SO?!
August 15, 2004The Reverend Anne Felton Hines
It was fairly early in my ministry that I found myself in a meeting of the Pacific Southwest District’s UU ministers one day. Our guests were the two candidates for the presidency of the Unitarian Universalist Association. They had each shared with us their visions for our movement, and it was now our turn to ask questions of them.
I remember that I had some questions – important ones about how each of them would use their position to heighten the public’s awareness of UUism, and what their views were as to the church’s role in issues of peace and social justice. But I remained silent. After all, I thought, what if the questions I raised were ones they’d already addressed, and I just hadn’t been paying attention? Or what if I became inarticulate upon opening my mouth? Or worst of all, what if my questions were just plain stupid?
At some point as I sat there listening to the conversation, I noticed that none of my women colleagues were posing questions. In spite of the fact that the group was almost equally divided between men and women, and that all of us were viewed as leaders by our congregations, accustomed to standing in front of large groups every Sunday and holding forth on various topics – still, none of us women ministers seemed to have the courage that day to speak up! One finally did – Carolyn Owen-Towle, minister at that time of the San Diego UU Church, one of the largest in our District; but she was the only one.
Some eighteen years later, just this past April, I again was sitting in a group of my colleagues from the PSWD. And again, I found myself holding my tongue – afraid to challenge some idea for fear of sounding ignorant or inarticulate. Yet these were not only my colleagues; many of them were close friends as well – people I knew loved and respected me.
And I realized that even after all these years as a religious leader, and knowing that most people see me as anything but fearful of speaking my mind! –still I have an embarrassing tendency to wait and see how others act before I act, or hold back my own thoughts until I get a sense of the tenor of the room. I realized how afraid I am sometimes to risk.
I suspect that most of us have these inner voices or “critics” from our past that stop us at times from being who we really are – that shush us up and hold us back. Perhaps the voice is a parent telling us to “Pipe down, honey.” Or perhaps it’s classmates ridiculing us for giving the wrong answer. Or a trusted teacher advising us to follow a career path more “suitable” or “practical” than the one we’d first chosen. We start out in life so eager to reach out fearlessly for anything that captures our heart; and by the time we reach adulthood – and usually long before that – we’ve reined in our heart, and learned to take few, if any, risks.
But recently I heard the minister of another faith suggest that “the greatest affirmation we can utter is the question, ‘So?’” What would happen if every time we begin to censor ourselves for fear of what others might think, we’d ask ourselves, “So?” When we hear a voice inside us saying, “You might be wrong,” what would happen if we told that voice, “So?” What if we risked our “significance” – challenged the very way we’ve defined ourselves, or how we think others have defined us? What difference might that make in our lives, and even in the lives of those we touch?
Posing that question does more than merely challenge our fears; it helps us to really look closely at what it is that holds us back from taking the necessary risks that would allow us to “inhabit” our lives rather than inhibit them. It lets us peel back the layers, much as we might peel back the petals of a flower, until we get to the heart or the core of our fear. And as we examine each uncovered layer, we can begin to ask, How realistic is that fear? If realistic, what can I do to address it? How can I prepare myself for its possible outcome?
When I began to think about ministry as my calling, I had all kinds of reasons why I couldn’t possibly do it – why it was far too risky. Indeed, I thought it was a pretty crazy idea, and assumed everyone I knew would agree. So I decided to present arguments right up front, before anyone else could; laugh at my idea before they could!
I told one friend that I couldn’t be a minister because I knew nothing about church finances. “So?” he said; “Make sure you always have a strong Finance Committee Chair.”
I told my minister, Bob Kaufman, that I didn’t know any women in the ministry. “So?” he said; “when have you ever let that stop you?!” And he proceeded to schedule a Sunday for me to preach a sermon.
I told my therapist that I was sure I wasn’t smart enough to be a minister. “So?” he said; “it’s about time you begin competing with the men!”
And I told the Seminary itself that I couldn’t afford it financially. “So?” I was told; “you shouldn’t let money stand in the way; there’s lots of help available.”
So what could I do? The people I trusted had all trashed my arguments. I had no choice but to move ahead!
Challenging our fears by asking “So?” also helps us discern whether the voices trying to discourage us from forging ahead might just be right. Not all risks are worthy or wise. Sometimes we shouldn’t act; sometimes we should keep our mouth shut!
I saw a t-shirt the other day that I wished I had. It said, “Lord, please keep an arm around my shoulders, and one hand over my mouth!” I hate to tell you all the times I’ve needed a loving but firm hand over my mouth!
But probably more often what we need is a loving but firm hand nudging us to trust our wisdom and take a “leap of faith.” And perhaps what sometimes holds us back is not knowing what the results will be of such a leap. We’re unsure whether, as one of my favorite quotes says, “there will be something solid for us to stand on,” or whether “we’ll be taught how to fly.” Our fear is that neither grounding nor flying lessons will be provided, and we’ll simply fall into an abyss of failure and/or humiliation.
Rachel Naomi Remen, a doctor who works with cancer patients and the author of Kitchen Table Wisdom, grew up in a family that loved jigsaw puzzles. But her father insisted on hiding the box that each puzzle came in, so that the family would have to put the puzzle together without knowing ahead of time how it was to turn out. It would of course take much longer to complete the project, but it also was far more rewarding once completed. Remen wrote that she “especially loved the time when the first hint of pattern would emerge and (we) could see what had been there, hidden, all along.”
Isn’t that what also happens when we allow ourselves to move through our fears, and follow a path that is unknown and holds some risk? Is it not all the more satisfying because we have gone where we were afraid to go – where we did not know the picture at the end?
Dawna Markova, author of our Meditation reading this morning, points out that “our lives are all that really belong to us,” and so how we live them is what determines what kind of persons we will become. If we think about who it is that we most admire, either living or dead – who we hold up as heroes and “sheroes” – is it not the people who were willing to risk their comfort in order to live their lives most fully?
I imagine that when Mayor Newsom in San Francisco first thought of issuing marriage licenses to gay and lesbian couples, someone told him all the reasons he shouldn’t do it – not the least of which might have been that it could hurt his political career. But he said, “So?” – and began a movement that has blossomed into a quest for equality that will not be stopped, in spite of Thursday’s court decision that Newsom lacked the authority to do it.
Probably every athlete competing in the Olympics could tell us stories about hardships they had to overcome, or doubts about their abilities to win. But some voice in them said, “so?” – and they pushed forward.
When the Jesuit priest, Fr. Boyle, began contemplating working with gang members in East L.A., I imagine he was warned that his life could be in danger, and that these young men and women could never be helped. But he said, “So?” – and founded the very successful “Homeboys, Inc.” that has transformed the lives of so many kids who others had given up on.
How much better our world would be if our political leaders would lead with integrity instead of fear; would ask, “So?” when told they might not get elected if they were to do what’s right instead of what’s easy.
Challenging the voices of fear begins in small and creative steps. I heard recently about a man who, upon discovering gang graffiti on the wall of his home, painted a large heart around it. And another story of a peace activist handing out flowers to the pro-war agitators across the street.
Indeed, for some time now, I have imagined offering some kind of “peace offering” to the noisy agitators who shout at our West Valley peace vigil each Sunday; but I’ve held back. I need to start questioning my fears. What if they shout even louder, right at me? “So?” What if they shove me, or even spit at me? “So?” What if my own vigil colleagues ridicule me, or are embarrassed by my action? “So?” The worst that might happen is small compared to the good that such a gesture might encourage.
A religious community such as Emerson is a place that can help each of us challenge the voices that tell us “No,” so that more and more we can approach our living with a joyful “Yes!” And one of the ways our church helps is by approaching life as a community with a “Yes!” – by challenging our collective fears and taking risks as a religious body.
When we voted a few weeks ago to hang a banner on our fence declaring that, “Emerson stands on the side of Love,” we were reaching beyond our fears of recrimination, and saying we’d rather take risks than ignore our Principles.
When we voted to move ahead with hiring a Coordinator of Religious Education, we were reaching beyond our fears of financial insecurity, and saying we’d rather take risks than remain stagnant.
And as we begin opening ourselves more and more to our immediate neighbors, particularly the youth, we will be reaching beyond our fears of them, and saying we’d rather take risks than turn our backs on those whose lives are different from ours.
Last April, shortly after the Ministers meeting where I found myself so reticent to speak up, I was browsing among the booths of various UU artisans. One of the booths had a series of small stones with words engraved upon them. There was “Love,” and “Serenity,” and “Truth,” etc. But the one that I knew was meant for me was the one which said, “Risk.” It now sits on my computer at home as a daily reminder to say, “So?” every time my inner voices present me with reasons I should keep quiet or not act.
Today marks my two-year anniversary of being your minister. We are embarking on the year when all Hell is supposed to break loose; so I’m figuring, why not make it a year of risk-taking – a year when we, as a religious community – as a congregation and minister – challenge ourselves every time we begin to back away from some new idea because of fear? Someone once said, “If you’re skating on thin ice, you might as well dance!” So let’s dance some risks this year!
I’m not talking about being reckless – of taking risks without fully understanding the possible consequences and preparing ourselves for them. What I am talking about is a commitment to stand together as we move forward toward our visions of creating peace and justice in the world, and making a difference in people’s lives. What I’m talking about is a commitment to not back down out of fear.
And who knows? Perhaps in so doing, we’ll become more able to expand the risks we take in our personal lives. As we learn to say “So?” as a religious community, perhaps we will become more emboldened to challenge ourselves individually with the same question….
“…So that that which comes to us as seed will go on as blossom, and that which comes to us as blossom, will go on as fruit.”
And so it may be. And so it is. Amen.
© 2004 Anne Felton Hines. All rights reserved.
