Come into this sacred space.
Leave nothing behind.
Bring your love and your heartbreak,
your fear and your defiance,
your grieving and your dreaming.

Come with your entire self.

In this community
you are worthy,
and you are enough,
and you are a blessing.

Come,
and be whole.

When I was twenty years old, I spent a Summer in the deep South – and I mean really deep. South America deep. I worked as an intern at a small Community Youth Center in Cerro Navia, a población, or poor neighborhood of Santiago. The country had emerged from the dictatorship of Agosto Pinochet only two years earlier, and the people I worked and became friends with were among those whose communities had suffered the most at the hands of that government – economic injustice as well as the more brutal aspects of the regime. Some of them had friends and family among the disappeared.

During those difficult years, they learned to come together with and for each other. The Catholic Church in Chile at that time taught the theology of liberation, and a preferential option for the poor. So the church members gathered weekly for meetings – conversations about how they could improve their lives and society. They sang, they loved each other, and they helped one another. There was suffering, to be sure, especially in the early years of the regime, but the people also grew stronger and closer and more kind. My Chilean friends in la comunidad de base, the Christian base community, were some of the most generous and warmest human beings I have ever met in my life, before or since. They also had the most wonderful sense of humor, which held them through all those years.

By the time I arrived, Chile was in the process of electing a new President. In the thirty-two years since, they’ve had their ups and downs, but democracy in that country recovered and remains strong. I can honestly say that Chile today is a more just society than before the dictatorship – no thanks to the General.

I’m not ready to say that our country is facing what Chile had to deal with. We may get there; there are any number of frightening possibilities. But at least this election, for all its flaws, was largely democratic. I know many of us are scared. I know many of us are grieving. I know many of us are angry. Me too, on all three points. And the truth is, yes – there will be losses, and violations of human rights, and denial of science, and hard won freedoms that now will have to be hard won again.

I’ve been thinking about my Chilean friends a lot this week. I thought about them when we gathered here on Wednesday night – a couple dozen of us, just talking through it all, putting our feelings and thoughts and internal conflicts right out there in the safety of our circle. We were making meaning in the same way that they did. I thought of the steps they had to take to protect the people among them who were most vulnerable, and the solidarity they created.

I thought about the way they turned to the Bible for guidance, reading the sacred text with their own lives and struggles in mind. In the scripture they found strength for their cause. They found teachings about love and justice, and they took them into their hearts and lived those words – with each other, and out in society.

As Unitarian Universalists, we find truth in many places. Some of us will turn to the Bible, perhaps those same passages. Some will find other teachings – The Q’uran, perhaps, or the wisdom of poets and sages, activists and exemplars. I have been remembering my Gandhi and my Martin Luther King this week. We don’t have one sacred text that we all turn to together.

In a sense we have all of them, because we have each other, and each of us draws from our own sources of wisdom. The sacred teaching can be anywhere and anything. People have been sending me quotes and readings all week. “This is what gives me strength right now,” they tell me, and when I read the poems and the quotes, they give me strength too. The sacred words can be anywhere.

But I’ll be honest – I still didn’t expect them from my sister. Don’t get me wrong. I love my sister; I respect her deeply. She is as dedicated to social justice as anyone I know – but very often she’s the sort of person who speaks in epithets rather than lofty words – or at least she used to be. I’d give you an example, but I can’t repeat that sort of thing, at least not from the pulpit or without blushing – and it’s not like I’m a prude. It’s just that her brand of radicalism has often tended towards the “no ‘Mmms’ left to give” variety. She’s very good at rage.

So I expected rage from her this week.

But when I pulled myself out of bed on Wednesday morning, after a mostly sleepless night, wondering what I could possibly give to my family, my neighbors, myself, you – there she was in my inbox.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said, “the last 6 to 9 months, that my 50s, which start in a few weeks, were going to have a theme, as my 20’s, 30’s, and 40’s each did. Loving others radically, like wildly and with abandon, while having healthy boundaries. I’ve been thinking about all the… almost anarchistic ways that could look in practice. I don’t necessarily mean hold hands and sing Kumbaya with anyone and everyone. Sometimes loving others means finding the light deep down somewhere to fight like hell for your loved ones and the greater good, more / harder / in new ways.”

“Well,” she said, “I guess we’re gonna get that party started.” I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated her more.

Folks – we need one another. And we’re going to need one another more and more in these times. We need community that is strong, and just, and love-centered. We need to provide sanctuary for those who are targeted, we need to give solace to those who are grieving, and we need to be a support for each other and a voice for justice in what I believe is a severely troubled age. And while we do all of that we also need to be a haven and a home – a place where we can still embrace joy and laughter and positivity.  I refuse to give that up.

Many of us are mourning right now. If you are not, you have a place here too, but understand that in this congregation our values call us to justice, and pluralism, and equity, and freedom, and when those values are threatened, we’re going to do something about it. We will not be silent.

What we do begins with rooting our community and activism in the spiritual discipline of love. That’s the language of our UU values. I recognize it’s new language, but I’m here to tell you, it is language we need in times like these. “We are accountable to one another for doing the work of living our shared values through the spiritual discipline of love.” “Love is the power that holds us together and is at the center of our shared values.” These are our words as Unitarian Universalists.

That means love runs through everything we do, and it also means that we forget love at our peril. This is the hard part. It is so easy, when we face the bile of hatred, to give ourselves over to the hatred that would insinuate itself in our own hearts. That’s how evil replicates in the world, furthering the separation and division that is a curse of our age. That’s how hatred feeds on itself, and we can’t let it happen to us. We must resist the temptation to hate our neighbors. Our faith teaches love. It is time to embrace that. Times like these call for radical transforming love.

I know it’s hard. I know it, because I feel in my bones the hate and the fear. But the only way to respond to hatred and fear, and remain true to our humanity, is with love. And our humanity is too important to let go.

But understand this – love is not a feeling. At least the kind of love I’m talking about is not a feeling. Love is not approval. Love is not politeness. Love is not “agreeing to disagree.” Love doesn’t mean liking somebody or being friends with them. We may choose some of those paths as we interact with those whose action or inaction has caused real damage, we may embrace friendliness, but it’s not a requirement, and it’s not what I’m talking about.

I’m talking about the fierce and demanding love that allows us to hold on to our humanity no matter how bad the times may get. Love doesn’t require affection, and it sure as hell doesn’t require acquiescence. Love is a spiritual discipline, and like any serious discipline, it takes work.

It begins with us – with me and you and the people closest to us. It begins by taking care of our needs in these times. If that means checking out for awhile, going outside to enjoy this yet beautiful Earth in this yet beautiful part of the world, please do that. You deserve that. If it means tuning out the news for awhile, do it. I’m a news junkie and I’ve barely looked at a paper or turned on the radio all week. If it means letting go of your feelings about the state of the country long enough to be with friends or family who feel differently than you do, it’s okay. If it means holding onto those feelings and finding somewhere else to be and someone else to be with, that’s okay too. Love begins with us.

Then we turn to those who are most in need – the outcasts, the vulnerable, the immigrants, the transgender, the gay or lesbian or bisexual, the poor, the people of color, the disabled, the survivors of sexual violence, the women losing reproductive rights – and I recognize that I’ve already named at least half the room and could keep going. We turn our love and effort to the creation of a community that is safe and affirming and has your back. We need communities like this one. We need congregations like this one. We need a religion like this one. We need love like this faith teaches.

Then we do something very difficult; maybe the hardest part of this whole thing. We nurture understanding and compassion for all people. And yes, all means all. That may not happen quickly, for some of us, and again – I’m not saying you have to like everybody or make friends with them. I’m not saying don’t be angry or even bitter, if bitterness is what you feel. But Fascism flourishes where the ground is fertile, where human compassion gives over to resentment and grievance, fed by misinformation and fear. Of course, there are real extremists out there – you only have to read the hateful and terrorizing texts that so many young women and people of color received this week to that know that’s true. But I don’t believe it’s half the country. The sad truth is that if you’re not paying attention, it’s far too easy to mistake mean spiritedness for righteous anger. The victims of propaganda are not only those against whom it is directed.

I recognize that if you are one of the people who has been targeted, that may be cold comfort. And it’s not an excuse. But it might be an inkling of hope.

It helps me to remember that a lot of people are just trying to get through the day and do their best for their families, and they may not thinking too deeply about all the issues. Carl Sandburg described “the people” as “sleepy, weary, enigmatic… a vast huddle with many units saying: I earn my living. I make enough to get by and it takes all my time. If I had more time I could do more for myself and maybe for others. I could read and study and talk things over and find out about things. It takes time. I wish I had the time…. They buy me and sell me… it’s a game… sometime I’ll break loose.”

I think it’s important, as we work to create the kind of society in which Fascism cannot flourish, that we act with love and compassion. And while there are deep and painful divisions in our country right now, there is also a human experience common to all of us. No human being is merely a set of opinions. People are complicated, with day to day challenges and setbacks and dreams. Everybody suffers, sometimes. Everybody feels afraid, sometimes. Everybody makes mistakes, sometimes. And every human being is inherently worthy. Every human being needs and deserves loving community.

That is what our faith moves us to create in times like these. Our Universalist ancestors called it “the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth.” Martin Luther King, Jr. called it “Beloved Community.” It takes patience, because this is hard work, and it takes organization, and perseverance. It takes a willingness to keep going even when immediate results are hard to see – I guarantee you, it makes a difference, even when that difference is the preservation of your own spirit. It takes a commitment to keep going even after things have started to go pretty well. Our goal is realized across generations. It will be realized, but it will take our attention and our dedication, and the transforming power of our love.

And remember – times like these are not new, even if they are new to some of us. But it wasn’t so long ago in our country that human beings were bought and sold as property, and we overcame. It wasn’t so long ago that women couldn’t vote, and we overcame. It wasn’t so long ago that segregation and discrimination were as much a fact of life as going to the grocery store, and we overcame. It wasn’t so long ago that being openly lesbian or gay or transgender meant being an outcast for life, and we overcame, and we’re not giving it up.

Love did that. Love made all the difference. Love in the face of fear. Love in the face of hatred. Love in the face of oppression. Love in the face of anger. Love in the face of everything that stands against love. This is what we stand for. This is who we are.

And yes. Yes, we will overcome.

  

Sacred Love,
Be with us.
Fill our hearts with your balm,
driving out hate.
Be with us when we are angry,
loving still.
Be with us when we are afraid,
holding us in your arms.
Be with us when we are hopeful,
helping us find joy
in this yet beautiful world.

Sacred Love,
Be with those
who have stoked the fires of intolerance,
who would turn us from one another.
Fill their hearts,
and open their minds.

Sacred Love,
abide with us
and be with us
through all the days ahead –
through the work,
the struggles,
the everyday
and the extraordinary moments.
Give us courage
and bring heart
to every step
and every soul.

Amen,
and blessed be.