IT'S YOU!!
October 6, 2002The Reverend Anne Felton Hines
When I was growing up, one of my favorite recordings was a musical comedy by Stan Freberg. It was called, "The United States of America," and covered the history of our country from the discovery of the "new world" by Columbus, up through the Revolutionary War; of course, all of it seen through Freberg's outrageously twisted lens.
Those of you familiar with this work of Freberg's may remember the scene where George Washington is about to make his famous crossing of the Delaware with his soldiers. The weather is terrible; spirits, as well as supplies, are low. But according to Freberg, General Washington has more important things on his mind: He's having trouble deciding which boat to use for the crossing. Should he pick the one with Donald Duck as the masthead, Mickey Mouse, or Goofy? His aide can be heard imploring him to hurry: "Sir, the men are beginning to freeze." But Washington ignores him, instead standing in each of the boats, and asking his aide: "What do you think about this one? Is it me? Is it me?"
He finally settles on the boat that's "him," but then has trouble deciding what sandwich to buy for lunch: Tuna, or ham on rye? His last comment to his aide is, "I guess I'll take the tuna, but, I dunno...do you think it's me?" The aid shouts, "It's you, General; for God's sake, it's you!"
I was reminded of that scene a few summers ago when I was visiting my sister and her family on Cape Cod. We'd all driven into Provincetown one day, with no purpose other than to wander up and down the streets, and, of course, shop. Not long after we arrived, I slipped into a hat shop; I've always loved hats -- though I rarely actually wear them; I usually feel too self-conscious - like I'm drawing too much attention to myself. (I know…you're probably surprised to learn that's an issue for me; but it is!) Anyway, I began trying on some of the hats in the shop; none of them grabbed me. But just as I turned to leave, a rather unusual hat on the counter caught my eye. In fact, it was more than unusual; it was outrageous!. I didn't even have the nerve to try it on; there were just too many people around. Still, the longer I looked at it, the more it called out to me.
Finally, I went out and found my sister, and brought her back to the shop to see this strange creation, and she insisted I put it on. Once on, she exclaimed, "Oh, Anne; you've got to get that; it is so YOU!" Still, I resisted -- partly because of the cost (I think it was 30 bucks!), and partly because I felt so self-conscious in it. Where would I wear it, after all? What would my congregation think about their minister appearing somewhere in it? Professional it was not!
But Judith kept insisting, and finally I gave in. I handed over the $30, and put my new acquisition on. (Put Carmen Miranda hat on.) And as I wore it through the streets, one person after another would stop me and exclaim, "What a great hat; where can I get one?!" And I'd have to deliver the bad news that mine was the last one in the shop. But the greatest moment came when a man standing in a doorway called out to me: "I love your hat; it's so YOU!" I answered, "You don't even know me!" He said, "Doesn't matter; I can tell -- it's you!"
"Is it me?" we ask. "It's you!" comes the reply. What does that mean? How is it that others - sometimes total strangers -- can see something in us that we ourselves have not seen…or have perhaps forgotten? How much of ourselves do we hide from others? How much of ourselves do we hide even from our own consciousness?
Great prophets through the ages have admonished us to "let our light shine." The Buddha supposedly said to his followers, just before dying, "Make of yourself a light." But how do we do that if we aren't aware of what our light is; or if aware, are afraid to let it shine?
There was an eight-year-old child who was asked what she wanted to be when she grew up. "I'd like to be myself," was her reply. "I've tried being other things, but I always failed." I wonder if she succeeded in being herself? Or is she now in her 20s or 30s, or even 50s or older, and still saying, as so many of us do: "If I could just learn to be myself!"
We live in a culture and a time which seemingly strives to set people free; which encourages us, supposedly, to express our true selves. Yet at the same time, we live with labels and categories that lock us in before we are even known. We are labeled liberal or conservative, gay or straight, old or young, beautiful or plain. And we wear some of these labels from the time we are children. How are we to even know who we are and what we want by the time we're adults, with all these categories -- let alone have the courage to be who we really are?
Norman Cousins said, "What's tragic is not death, but what dies within us as we live." It is too easy to let die within us our authentic and beautiful selves, in deference to what others want us to be -- or at least, our perception of what they want us to be.
But how can we practice our Unitarian Universalist Principle of "acceptance of one another" if we don't first accept ourselves? And that means being "at one" with ourselves, at peace with who we are, and willing to celebrate that. The philosopher Erasmus contended that "the greatest point of happiness" comes when a person "is willing to be" what they are. That's exactly what that wise little eight-year-old had learned.
Some of you may be familiar with the game, "Dungeons & Dragons." I guess it's usually played as a computer game these days, but I learned it as a role-playing game some 20 years ago, while I was in seminary; we used only ourselves and our imagination. A former student of the school, Marsh Agobert, called himself a "dungeon master," and offered to lead a group of us through this fascinating game.
Now, the first thing one does in Dungeons & Dragons is to choose a role to play (there are only 4 possibilities, I think - cleric, warrior - that sort of thing). And then one chooses what's called an "alignment" -- either "lawful" or "unlawful." These "alignments" carry no judgement of good or bad with them; they simply reflect one's essential nature. I immediately claimed "unlawful" as my alignment, with a great deal of relish, and looked forward to plunging into the game.
But as the game progressed, I kept making mistakes, and getting myself and my teammates into trouble. I wasn't able to think the way they were thinking, and often found myself confused. After a while, Marsh stopped the game and announced that he had just put a spell on me; he then led me out of the room. Once outside, he explained to me that under the spell, my alignment would be changed to "lawful."
I was horrified! "What do you mean?" I cried. "Why would you do that?!" "Because that's what you are," he replied; "you are a lawful."
"No, no," I insisted; " You don't understand. I've been trained in Civil Disobedience. I support radical causes. I'm a Socialist and a radical Feminist! How can you say I'm a 'lawful?'"
"Because," he said, "none of that other stuff counts. What counts is how you respond to situations, and your response is always to play by the rules. You are a lawful; that is your nature. To try to play the game differently will only get you killed off."
I was crushed; I'd so wanted to be the kind of person who disrupts the status quo, who pushes the boundaries, who never cares what others think. But over time I've had to admit that Marsh was on to something; I am a "lawful." I do play by the rules, even when participating in protest rallies and pushing boundaries. It doesn't mean that I'm incapable of going against the grain of what's acceptable, or am unwilling to; it only means that in such an instance, it takes extra energy from me and extra care; it isn't my natural way of being.
Marsh saw something in me, just as my sister Judith had in the hat shop. Only, Marsh saw an aspect of myself that was contrary to my self-image; indeed, I was ashamed of it. Nevertheless, it was an aspect that was important for me to own; knowing it keeps me out of trouble. More importantly, Marsh pointed it out to me without the harsh judgements I carried; he handed it to me as a gentle gift, wanting only for me to accept myself fully as who I am.
That is what we in a religious community can offer one another: the gift of recognition; the gift of encouragement to be fully who we are; the gift of "acceptance of one another." This church is where one ought to be able -in the words of Emil Zola, to "live out loud."
Yet even in our churches, we do not always encourage those who seem different from us to "live out loud." Last April, a member of the Mission Viejo UU church, Dave Kinnear, and I presented a workshop at our District Assembly on intolerance in our congregations, particularly towards those UUs who find themselves in the theological or political minority. It was startling to hear the stories of some of the participants, and learn the pain they'd suffered from fellow UUs. And while as a religious association we have become very accepting of gays and lesbians, those among us who are bi-sexual or transgender still struggle to be fully accepted and understood within our congregations.
This coming Friday, the 11th, is National Coming-Out Day - a day when "closeted" gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people are encouraged to "live out loud," by proclaiming their sexuality - at least, to one more person or group than they've "come out" to before now. And it's a day when those in the sexual or affectional mainstream are encouraged - indeed, challenged - to open their minds and hearts to those who have felt the need to hide.
I came face-to-face with my own bias about transgenderism when I was still the minister of the San Dieguito Fellowship in Solana Beach. A heterosexual couple, Dale and Marny, who had been UUs in another part of the country, had recently begun attending the Fellowship.
Shortly after their arrival, Dale informed me that he was a heterosexual cross-dresser; he wanted to know if the congregation would be accepting of him. I told him I wasn't sure how people would react; the majority were very open to lesbians and gay men, but the issue of transgender people hadn't really come up yet. But I assured him that of course I would support him.
It turns out that most people were completely welcoming of Dale after he announced to them that he was a cross-dresser; it seemed to have no affect on his relationships there. But recently, when I was recalling that early conversation with him, I suddenly remembered how relieved I had felt when he assured me that he wouldn't be coming to church in female clothing; that he would leave for the privacy of his home. I think I may have even said something like, "Oh good; wearing women's clothes on a Sunday morning would probably make it much more difficult for people to accept you!"
Now, when I think of that conversation, I feel ashamed of myself; for why should anyone have to hide something so integral to their being as their gender identity, in order that those of us who reside in the sexuality "mainstream" can feel more comfortable? It's not good enough to profess that we are welcoming of all people, if we then discourage some from "living out loud" when it causes us discomfort.
There is an exercise conducted sometimes in workshops as a way for people to get to know one another without the usual trappings of persona. Each participant is asked to introduce ourselves, but without ever saying what we do for a living, or how old we are, or whether we are partnered or not. We must strip ourselves of all the facades behind which we normally hide, and try to get down to the essence of who we are. It's difficult, as we tend to identify ourselves by superficialities: I'm a minister; I have two children and two grandchildren; I'm 57; etc. But none of that says who I am, at heart. None of it really says where my passion lies. My Carmen Miranda hat may say more about my essence than do those facts of my life.
So... who are you? Where does your passion lie? How would it be for you to "come out" of whatever closet might hide your essence?
The path to intimacy -- whether that be with another human being, or with the Holy Spirit of Life -- begins with a deep knowing and sharing of ourselves. We become open to others and to our understanding of the Eternal, not by being who we think others want us to be, but by being who we truly are, and loving that. The path to one's God is simply an extension of the path to oneself.
We must stop the voices that tell us who we should be, and get back to that one, clear voice within us, which says, "This is who I am; this is who I celebrate; this is the me I will love." That might mean painting your toenails with glitter, or wearing an outrageous hat with plastic fruit on top!
But more importantly, celebrating who you are might mean taking the risk of speaking your truth openly and clearly. It might mean living your faith and praying out loud. It might mean entering a love relationship that could cause you to be hated or feared by others. What's important is to be able to look at ourselves and say: "It's me!"
I want to close with one of my favorite stories - perhaps you're familiar with it. It's of the beloved old Hassidic rabbi, Zusya. He had grown old, and was nearing death. One day his students gathered around his bed, listening carefully to any final lessons he might give them. Finally one of his students asked him: "Rebbe, are you not afraid to meet the Creator of the Universe? Do you not fear what he will ask of you -- what judgments he will make? What if he asks why, during your lifetime, you were not more like his servants Abraham, or Jacob, or Moses? How will you answer him?"
Zusya breathed heavily and laboriously, as he pondered this question. Finally he turned toward his student, and said clearly: "When I meet the Creator of the Universe, He will not ask me why I was not more like Abraham, or Jacob or Moses. He will only ask why was I not more like Zusya?"
Do not wait until your meeting with the Creator of the Universe; it may never come! Indeed, do not even ask why you have not been more like yourself. Instead, simply and joyfully be no other than yourself -- in all your unique wonderfulness.
Be yourself; you are beautiful. Be yourself; you have a light that shines. Be yourself; you are made of the same stuff as the stars and the trees and all Creation. You have "the life-throb of ages dancing in your blood at this very moment."
It's you!
Love it!
© 2002 Anne Felton Hines. All rights reserved.
