Inescapably

The sermon is titled "Standing on the Side of Love."

I can’t hear it. All I can think is:

Love doesn’t take sides.

Love is the field on which our petty battles rage,

each, on our side, glares across at the Other,

mindless of the supporting ground.

Love is the humble crawlers that clean up our carnage,

unsophisticatedly present, but oh so surely

setting things right once again.

Love is the quiet leafy stuff that empearls our ugly achievements,

growing and dying with infinite grace,

a dignity beyond interests, beyond divisions.

Love is the cool water deep underground,

the dying stars that birthed it,

and the flowing, glowing rock still below.

A dividing line creates two sides.

A square, six.

A box, eight, and so on;

Too many sides; insides, outsides, our sides, theirs.

Love’s infinite sphere has none,

yet encloses all spaces,

Infuses all particles.

You cannot stand outside the universe.

You cannot stand outside yourself.

No, my beloveds, you are not standing on the side of Love.

You are Love, all of you, on every side,

within, without,

inescapably.

The Tea Party and Occupy Wall Street Should Be Friends.

I know, I can hear you laughing from here. Or maybe you’re laughing while also trying to sing “the cowboy and the farmer…” Bear with me.

In broad terms, the Tea Party says “Big government is the problem not the solution” and the Occupiers say “Greedy corporations are the problem, not the solution.” Am I the only one who agrees with both of these?

I believe in the creative power of individuals. Many of humanity’s greatest leaps forward have come through outstanding individuals who were willing to take fantastic risks to promote a wacky idea. Some of those people are entrepreneurs and some are activists. Besides a bold and creative spirit, what they have in common is that they make positive change even (especially!) in the absence of personal wealth, government funding, noble birth, or pre-existing celebrity. I’m talking about Thomas Edison, Susan B. Anthony, Steve Jobs, Eli Whitney, Harriet Tubman, Benjamin Franklin, Henry Ford, George W. Carver, Bill Gates, and Martin Luther King Jr., among thousands of others.

I want to live in a society that gives these folks the greatest possible freedom to improve my world.

Among many other things, that means fewer government grants to entrepreneurs and activist community groups, because these folks wouldn’t have received such grants! (Can you imagine the state of Alabama giving a “community improvement grant” to MLK in 1964?!) I could go on and on about silly regulations, complicated tax codes, K Street, incentives for bad behavior, the war on drugs, etcetera etcetera, but you already know all that. The point is, we need some government to write and referee the rules, mediate disputes, and defend the nation, but it is all too easy for government to take on tasks that are far-better handled by activists or entrepreneurs, and when that happens, government becomes the problem, not the solution.

It also means not letting big corporations (or unions, or PACs) rig the system against little ones, or to run amok in every environment (the green one, the litigation one, the legislative one, the financial one). Freedom without responsibility is anarchy. I could go on and on about the financial crisis, Monsanto’s predation on small farmers, mountain-top removal, influence peddling, the military-industrial incest-fest, etcetera etcetera, but you already know all that. The point is that we need capitalist corporations to create wealth, provide meaningful work, and structure economies efficiently, but when they amass too much wealth, with no accountability for impacts beyond profit, it is all too easy for them to become oppressive behemoths that hinder the achievement of those same goals, and when that happens, big corporations are the problem, not the solution.

Here’s the deal: I want a small, flexible government that lets people succeed or fail on their own, and uses a minimum of regulations to maximize responsible freedom. I want a free and responsible marketplace, where I am fully accountable for my behavior, and so is the CEO of Goldman Sachs. I don't want my neighbors to watch me die of starvation, but neither do I want to support someone who is fully capable of supporting herself. I think this is pretty much what most people want, including both the angry conservatives who forged a new political party and the dancing liberals pitching tents in downtown Manhattan.

If Tea Party activists and Occupy activists can pierce the fog of cultural warfare, their unlikely mating might birth something truly amazing. The dancing maid and the bitter lad make hasty love on a battlefield, and conceive… liberty!

Appreciation (for Steve Jobs)

Think Different

Truly madly deeply different

Faster stronger lighter brighter

Cleaner cooler smarter smoother

Tools on my desk, in my hand, warm in pocket

Like the Tardis, vaster inside than out

Reaching entire worlds with my fingers

All the way back to the mouse, fonts, color.

Different you sought, different you were

Be we Mac-soldiers or DOS-geeks

You inspired, forged, created, cajoled

Invited us into this new age of power and beauty.

Thank you, Steve.

There Is No Such Thing As Teaching

There is no such thing as teaching.

There is learning.

There is mentoring.

Without learners pulling in the threads of knowledge

no amount of pushing those threads

can transport knowledge,

can manufacture learning;

The teacher's planning is irrelevant.

The teacher's skill is irrelevant.

The teacher's attitude is irrelevant.

The teacher is irrelevant.

The learner is all.

Do not attempt to teach.

Await a learner to mentor.

A Skinhead Called Me A Racist

Racist?

Meaningless.

Not "devoid of meaning,"

Rather, "too many meanings."

Precisely, three.

Racist the first:

Filled with disgust, distrust, certain of

Them as less-than, other, filthy.

Relishing the poison of the past,

Spewing unabashedly the putrid.

Racist the second:

Dancing with trepidation and guilt

Unexpressed, polite, concerned.

Eschew, renounce, withhold, deny, but

Avert the eyes, lock the doors.

Racist the third:

Embracing the term, knowing

The sunflower in cyanide soil strives clean green, but

carries the poison inside.

Acknowledgement, attentiveness, humility.

Racist is as racist does.

The fuming skinhead couldn't miss!

In the soil, the air, the water, the breast milk

The taint's in both of us... ALL of us.

That's me, Racist, rounding third.

Darwin Did Not Kill God

Darwin did not kill God.

Darwin opened God's toolbox, like a young child exploring the cellar, and God smiled from the shadows. Little Charlie hefted out one sharp tool, feeling the weight in his hand, wistful but certain as a child discerning the truth about Santa.

Einstein did not kill God.

Einstein opened God's dresser, like a child playing dress-up with Mommy's clothes, and God smiled from the doorway. Albert searched every drawer, exasperated to find only one radiant garment, then wide-eyed with wonder at a perfect fit.

Hubble did not kill God.

Hubble opened God's purse, like a teenager seeking confirmation of a fair allowance, and God smiled from close beside. Young Edwin peered into a vast chamber, much larger on the inside than out, containing riches to make him gasp like a drowning man finally breaking surface.

Copernicus did kill god.

Copernicus upended the heavens, like a sand clock run out, and god was swept away on outrushing tsunamis of sunlight. Gone indeed is the angry old greybeard; vanished also his throne in the sky. But Earth was not commanded forth by that smiteful sky-man; we emerged from God Herself, no less miraculous than stars, oak trees, oceans, and eagles.

No, God is not dead. She openly shares Her tools, Her clothes, and Her riches, still smiling from uncountable legions of faces. Ours is a God who created not one sun, but 400,000,000,000,000,000,000 suns, breathing them gently in on Her 14,000,000,000 year song. How glorious the gentle and artful God of Charlie, Albert, and Edwin!

God dances in our twinkling universe of galaxies, stars, planets, and creatures; an infinite community of celebrants; a single miraculous Oneness, re-creating Its own conscious Self to shout songs of praise and connection.

Ode To An Educator

In the day-to-day pinball of an educator's work, it is so easy, so urgent, to attend to the immediacy of the next little crisis, and so hard, so indulgent, to lift your eyes to the horizon, and take in the overwhelming immensity of the accumulated Good done on all those many days in the classroom.

Today we take your hand and urge your gaze yet higher, to the panorama of stars ignited, hand-to-hand, from hands you held, fragile, trusting, needing your self to find their own inner fire. May your hands still feel the warmth of all those little hands, now brimming with love, and may your heart have courage to carry the fullness of spreading galaxies of Truth, radiating out from the center where stand you, a Teacher, creating new worlds one child at a time.

Written in October 2009, for the miracle that is Trish Brandon, Director of Religious Growth and Learning at the Unitarian Church of Harrisburg, PA.