Wake Now Compassion...

My Sermon "Wake Now Compassion..."
Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Marin, California

The reading was from "Here if You Need Me-- a True Story" by Unitarian Universalist Minister Kate Braestrup. Kate is the chaplain for the State of Maine's Game Wardens. Her work includes praying over the bodies of hunters, snowmobilers, and hikers, and counseling the wardens themselves.
In this excerpt, Kate is preparing to say Grace at the annual Game Warden's Dinner, a dinner cooked by a group of wardens including Fritz Trisdale. (The reading followed here)

Sermon:
Although it's not traditional here, I'm going to start my sermon with a Gospel reading. I found this tiny bit in the Gospel of Thomas, the most recently discovered of the major gospels... and I'm only going to give you a fragment of saying number 6, though there is a similar sentiment in Luke chapter 11:
"His disciples asked him and said to him... How should we pray?" (Five Gospels, Hoover, Funk)
That's all... just that simple question. In the two different gospels where the question is asked, Jesus gives very different answers. In the Gospel of Thomas, Jesus replies that God knows everything anyway, and in Luke Jesus responds with a version of "Our Father"-- the prayer commonly called "The Lord's Prayer."
But... I am savoring the answer to "How shall We Pray" we find in Kate Braestrup's book when she writes: “Heigh Oh Silver!”
As a Unitarian Universalist, I’m much more comfortable with a prayer that begins “Heigh Oh Silver” than one that begins “Hail Mary” or "Our Father". But over the last two months I’ve actually said more Hail Marys than Heigh-o-Silvers.
I want to thank Sally Schroeder for asking me to be with you today. Sally and I go back a few years, when we both lived near Princeton New Jersey.
I lived in a community called Kingston, and like most of the men in town, and a few of the women, I served as a Volunteer Firefighter.
Kate Braestrup's memoir of the Maine Game Wardens touched my heart in that it resonated with my firefighting past.
Kingston had lots of open space, and when someone gets lost—a suicidal teenager, an Alzheimer sufferer—the fire companies are the quickest way to get lots of people searching the forests and swamps.
Elsewhere in "Here If You Need Me" Kate Braestrup tells about another lost-person search, on an icy, rainy November night.
Chaplain Braestrup is asked by one of the wardens: "Listen, Reverend Mother, as long as you're here, could you pray for it to stop raining?" Kate replies: "I'm a Unitarian Universalist. We don't DO weather." (109)
So, from Braestrup’s point of view, UU prayers should not ask a supernatural power to change atmospheric patterns. And, believe me, I’ve been out on lost-person calls on snowy nights, and if I thought they’d do anything, I might have acted differently.
Two summers ago I saddled up my minivan left New Jersey, an engineering career, and volunteer firefighting and drove across America, to come out to Starr King School for the Ministry in Berkeley. My goodbyes didn't include a prayer, but "Heigh o Silver" would have been a perfect.
At School when I inquired how to pray, the students who were further along would say: “Charlie, wait until you are a Hospital Chaplain Intern — then you will learn how to pray!” So I waited.
As with many denominations, the training of Unitarian Universalist ministers includes a critical step, called C P E. That stands for “CLINICAL PASTORAL EDUCATION”, and it’s a process in which we learn how to be a pastor in a clinical setting.
Each ministerial candidate is required to do CPE. We can choose to be a chaplain in a Hospital, a Prison, a Hospice organization, or a Mental Health facility.
My choice was a VA Hospital.
I wanted to work with Military Veterans, and specifically to work at the Palo Alto VA because that hospital has a wide variety of units.
It has almost 1000 beds, and everything from Hospice and Nursing Home units to addictions, blindness and spinal cord injuries, as well as the usual heart bypass and hip replacements.
So two months ago I appeared at the Palo Alto VA Hospital… ready to learn how to pray, to pray and also to be present to patients.
There is a saying. A chaplain must meet patients where they are.
If a patient is Jewish, I am a Jewish chaplain.
If they are atheists, I am atheist.
If they are Catholic, I am Catholic.
But I’m not a Rabbi, or a Priest or even a Minister. If a patient is Catholic and wants communion, I arrange to have a Eucharistic minister to come to him—or her, though most patients are male.
If a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter Day Saints wants to talk, I will provide a compassionate listening ear. If they need a ritual, I will contact the Mormon minister on call.
I spent some time wondering... is working for the VA really working for the military-industrial complex? Another of our chaplain interns was actually challenged on this point... challenged so strongly that his ability to be ordained came into question. But he and I see it this way:
A recent study shows that one-in-five returning OEF/OIF (Those are the official names: Operation Enduring Freedom, in Afghanistan, and Operation Iraqi Freedom) …one in five… has symptoms of what is called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and is at a higher risk of suicide. Last year a national suicide hotline got 22 thousand calls from veterans.
In my opinion, it does not matter that our incursion into Iraq was based on deception and out-and-out lies... the soldiers who fought and are fighting there are human beings.
AND If a Gulf War veteran is suffering Gulf War Syndrome, he or she deserves to be cared for spiritually as well as physically.
And those my age, who were drafted into Vietnam-- only to have their sense of safety permanently destroyed-- they also demand our attention. They were IN THE WAR, but they were NOT THE WAR. They deserve dignity, just as all human beings deserve to know that they have worth and dignity. So I chose the VA.
One thing I should tell you... because of privacy concerns in healthcare, in this sermon I will be fictionializing patient names and information.
For our internship each chaplain selects several units to cover, one or two days per week. The rest of the time is spent doing classwork.
Of the twenty possible assignments, I selected THREE to work with all summer.
One is a ward full of Vietnam-era vets suffering from alcohol and drug addictions. And when the alcohol is withdrawn, the nightmare of Post Traumatic Stress reappears... sometimes with hallucinations.
It is a locked ward where patients have no belts or shoelaces -- a precaution to prevent suicides.
Another of my wards holds paraplegics and quadriplegics, some on ventilators.
And my third ward is a relatively normal hospital ward, full of old farmers, car salesmen and teachers spending a few days or weeks in surgical recovery for cancer, diabetes related conditions, back problems, and things like that.
How would you pray for these precious people?
Maybe you have had a friend waiting for a cancer biopsy result. What would you say to your friend other than "It is God's Will"?
Maybe you have a friend who suffers from the disease of alcoholism, drug addiction or depression, whose life spirals into chaos. What do you say to your friend that doesn't drive you two apart?
Maybe you have a friend who has lost physical abilities, through accident, through disease, or simply because of how they were born. What do you say to your friend when "Don't Worry" just sounds hollow?
And what do you say to yourself? How do you comfort YOURSELF when you are in relationship with struggle?
I must confess, I have had friends in all these situations, and I've never known what to say.
At the start of my internship I also had to be explicit about my personal goals. The other five interns also wrote out their own goals, and then we shared the documents, so each of us could help the other.
One of my goals was to "Experiment with Prayer"... and for how little I knew of prayer, I might have just as reasonably said, "Experiment with Heart Surgery". But once stated, you know, a true desire cannot be withdrawn. And so I have been mindful of this goal in my work.
For example, as part of the addictions unit I learned the "Serenity Prayer"-- a standard part of Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, though it dates back at least to the time of theologian Reinholt Niebuhr...
God, grant us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change.
The courage to change the things we can.
And the wisdom to know the difference.
AA leaves the understanding of "God" to the particular group and individual. The one AA meeting I attended was in a church, and the serenity prayer had a Protestant Christian preamble, but this need not be so.
The patients in the addictions unit are mostly desperate, and in dire straits.
They have burned bridges with family and friends, lost house, car, savings, job, and sometimes health. To accept that the ex-wife, the condo or their drivers license-- accept that all these things are gone... that is a step toward recovery. And while I don't participate in their AA meeting, my job is to support the words of that prayer.
And one step at a time, the VA will help them build a new life... if they can learn serenity, and work to change.
The spinal injuries unit has not involved saying any prayers. For these men and women, the "things I cannot change" are as obvious as morning bowel care. They will never be what they once were.
For them, prayer takes the form of presence.
To listen to their lives and hopes, to be with them as they suffer setbacks when bedsores reappear and progress when they are healed again, to embody a sense of their worth, that is my prayer for them. It is a prayer of joy.
The surgical ward has had the most prayer in it.
One day I was asked to pray the Hail Mary and the Our Father in Spanish… I took German in High School.
My pro-nun-cia-tion was horrible, but the patient was,...... thankfully patient, as I read the words off a tiny card.
Another prayer was with a young veteran's family, where we all held hands.
I asked him to start... His start included an invocation of "Our Lord Jesus Christ" and statements of humility and unworthiness... and he continued for several minutes asking for blessings on the hospital, his nurses, and even me. When he had mentioned everyone and everything I could imagine to lift up in prayer, he turned it over to me. All I had to do was say "Amen!"
I had given my first fundamentalist prayer.
And consider George... "George" is an old veteran recovering from a painful procedure. I sat at his bedside as he talked of his life, losses and what he held dear. When it came time to go, George started the prayer in his traditional way, but he didn't do the whole thing. He let me take over:
Let us be mindful of our friend George as he does the hard work of recovery,
Let us be mindful of the love he felt for his mother and his father, and the love he feels for his children. (And, after a few more like that I said:)
May he find peace amidst the work of healing. May he get enough sleep, (and so on)
Amen.
I was nervous. My mind raced... It was awful... but it was perfect.
Back in our reading, Kate Braestrup gives a prayer: "Oh God, whose name is love and whose work is justice, I offer thanks to you for this day and for this fine and funny company" (104)
And now I understand.
Prayer is like my goals for the summer. It is the way to make explicit, to expose, develop and place in public view that which is within the heart.
For Kate, it was the love she felt for the Game Wardens of Maine.
For the recovering alcoholic, prayer can be a reminder of need for inner peace and an affirmation that there is a way to change.
Prayer can also expose sadness, loneliness, fear, and anger. Prayer speaks personal truth into the world beyond the self.
I can see how directing your prayer to "Abba"-- the Aramaic word meaning "DADDY" could be comforting-- Abba, translated "Our Father" is the word used in Luke at the start of the Lord's Prayer.
And I can understand how using a female name for "the divine" provides more comfort to others.
For Reverend Braestrup, "God whose name is love" is beautiful, biblical, non-AN-THRO-PO-MOR-PHIC and not gendered.
But others do not need God as a witness. Declaration to the community, declaration to the trees or the sea or a picture on the wall, all these are prayer if they come from the emotional center we call the heart.
Where one person might say, perhaps: "Oh Lord may this snowstorm stop and my daughter arrive home safely." It's not about the weather. Another person might say: "I love my daughter, and am afraid for her as she drives through the snow."
Both statements name the emotions of the heart. Each could be a prayer.
And so, last Sunday, after I heard of the murders at the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church, I thought for the first time that prayer might be worthwhile in my life.
I have no illusion about being able to change weather patterns, to change the past or change what occurred that day. I cannot undo the damage of the shotgun blasts. I cannot give them life again. But I can speak my emotions to the world.
So with this definition, do you think we can pray together, TODAY?
I want to add a COMMUNITY PRAYER here in our order of service.
Let's change roles... a moment ago you were audience, now you are a participant.
I want to give some time for those of use whose hearts were touched by the attack in Tennessee, and who want to try verbalizing it in prayer.
For some of us, the children on the stage, witnessing the events at the door is a vision of profound sadness. For some it is the bravery of Greg McKendry, the usher... and the bravery of the parishioners who tackled the gunman.
Perhaps it is the loss of innocence in liberal religion -- an awareness that violence can touch us even during our worship service.
Or is it the sad story of Linda Kraeger, a visitor to church that Sunday, who was also shot dead.
Let's take a moment, let's give ourselves space to speak the prayers of our hearts to our assembled community. May we take a few minutes?
Here's how it will work. We are creating a shared prayer... each of us contributes a sentence. If you wish to help create our shared prayer, stand or raise your hand, we'll point at you... and shout it out your statement or whisper your words.
It is the saying, not our hearing, that is important.
And I will start, using Kate Braestrup's formulation:
"God whose name is love and whose work is justice," we turn our attention to the murderous attack at the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church. May we share this morning with this our community the emotions and meditations of our hearts.
May we remember the loving action of the usher, Greg McKendry.
(a community sharing of prayers followed)