We Are Groot

Color_Stripe

We Are Groot

Listen to the sermon here:

We Are Groot

Or, watch and listen to the sermon on Facebook

Groot Hat

Color_Stripe

When I was initially working on this sermon, as evidenced by the description of the worship service from January, I thought the focus should be more on our first principle, the inherent worth and dignity of every person. But the more I’ve worked through it, the more I’ve found this story to be about the seventh principle — the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part.

That’s quite a mouthful. You’d think it could be shorter, you know, maybe just “the interdependent web”. But humans sometimes aren’t that good at recognizing the bigger story, especially when we’re in pain, or mad, or afraid. And us Unitarian Universalists in particular, sometimes we like to believe that we’re exceptional to the point of being set apart from others, removed from the things that we think we’ve rejected or left behind as our tradition has progressed. So we need this big mouthful of a reminder that we are deeply, deeply set into this web of existence, whether it’s moving us to joy or to sorrow.

The interdependent web of all existence. Even the pieces we don’t like.

The interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part. We are intimately, inextricably connected to the people we dislike. Dare I say it, we are inextricable from those we hate.

We are a part of those who we try to shut out and disown as not being us.

This brings me to the reading, often titled “The Faith of the Canaanite woman”. I think it should have a subtitle: “In Which Jesus Is Wrong.”

I love this story. It’s one of the best stories for a perfectionist, overfunctioning person like me who’s spent years learning that mistakes are inevitable, that we are flawed beings always learning how to be better to each other.

And there’s lots of different interpretations of this story in Christian exegesis, and lots of different ways of working the text so that Jesus is still perfect. Perhaps those versions of the story speak to you, and that’s perfectly ok. One of the things I love most about Unitarian Universalism is that not only do we embrace different stories, we embrace different sides of the same story. We say, “Yes, and.”

So this morning, we’re focusing on the idea that Jesus was wrong. He gets called out on it, and instead of doubling down in his wrongness, throwing a tantrum, or any other deflecting behavior, he says, “Oh my gosh, you’re right.” And then he makes amends.

Think about the power dynamics here. A desperate women from an oppressed, systematically maligned population shows up asking for help for her child from a healer. This healer, who knows he could ease this child’s suffering, says, “No, I don’t think so. You’re not the right kind of people. In fact, I’m not sure you’re even a person. You’re like a dog.” (Which, I just want to point out, I know for many in this congregation, is not an insult. But apparently it was for Jesus. That’s another sermon).

And this woman, who has already made herself vulnerable just by showing up and begging for help, doesn’t back down. She says, “Even dogs get scraps from the table.” Even dogs are part of the household.

Even if I’m willing to debase myself to agree with your assessment of me as less than you, I’m still a part of the interdependent web and you should respect that.

I am willing to believe in you and your power to save my child. Why won’t you believe in me?

And there it is. Jesus realizes that he actually knows nothing about her life, or what difficult choices she had to make to survive. He has judged her worth solely on her identity as a Canaanite. He reacts like a bigot.

Now, this is not to say that the Canaanite woman is perfect. We don’t know anything about her, or her past behavior. She could be toxic in any number of ways– but not just because she’s a Canaanite.

And that’s the point of the story — that in this moment, it doesn’t matter. In this moment, right here, she is asking for help for someone she loves from someone she knows can help at no risk or loss to himself. Whatever she may have said or done in her past is irrelevant.

So how does this tie in to Guardians of the Galaxy?

I love genre stories, because they help us get understanding about our own lives by removing us from it. When Nichelle Nichols, who played Uhura on the original Star Trek series, was considering leaving the show, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. asked her to stay on. He told her how important it was for black people, especially young black children, to see themselves on television as something other than a servant. Star Wars tells us a story about the search for identity and resisting imperialism. Superheroes awe us with their powers while teaching us how to process the power of our emotions and actions in the world.

And sometimes, those heroes are anti-heros. The Guardians of the Galaxy are our Canaanites, and unlike the Canaanite woman from our others story, we know all about the history of this motley crew of criminals.

Peter Quill, con man and thief. He was kidnapped from earth as a young boy, after the death of his mother, and maintains emotional distance from those around him as a protection.

Gamora, thief, assassin for hire. Her family was killed in front of her when she was a child, and she was “adopted” by the man who did it. He turned her into a living weapon. She is fighting to both survive and find a way out.

Drax, a man consumed by a need for violent revenge after the slaughter of his family. He solves problems with brute force.

Rocket. He’s a freak, a mistake made from the progress of science without the temper of ethics. He is, more than any of the rest of them, alone in the universe, carrying memories of torture and abuse and living with the constant ridicule and mocking of those around him every day. He is cruel, and angry.

All created by the systems in which they existed. All have had to live for most of their lives with no one validating their inherent worth and dignity, so they are forced to carve it out for themselves, often resorting to brutality, fear, and avoidance rather than right relationship.

And yet, when push comes to shove, when they realize that they can contribute in a meaningful way to the larger community, to the survival of the very people who malign and oppress them, they rise to the occasion.

And then there’s Groot, the giant tree-being. Groot enters this story as Rocket’s muscle, giving him physical and emotional support in a world that created him and then abandoned him. While Groot can only vocalize the words “I am Groot,” he understands everything said to him. Groot becomes the force binding them together, the one among them who can create beauty amongst ugliness.

All of this is important for the moment that made this movie worth a sermon. You have to know how awfully these people have been treated to understand how huge it was for them to join the fight to save the world that had abused them. You have to know how criminal their choices have been to understand the risk they took by contacting the NovaCorps, the military and police forces of the first planet to be attacked.

You have to know how little they think of themselves, how little expect from their lives to understand how shocking it was that Groot sacrificed himself to save them. In that moment, when Groot uses “we” for the first time, he is using his power to heal those he cares about. He is telling them, you showed up, and so you are worth saving.

So where do you find yourself in this story?

Maybe you’re one of this mercenary crew, asking for someone to believe in you, to believe that you can change the world even as it’s trying to tear you down. Maybe you’re one of the NovaCorps, having to decide whether or not to give these people a chance despite their history.

And yes, I know that there are people, that there are relationships, that are so toxic we must, one-on-one, break those ties, for our safety and for the safety of others in our care. I’ve had to do this myself. There are people I will never let back into my life. One person cannot take down a Ronan, bent on destroying everything them just because they can. And people like this do exist.

But these toxic, destructive people remain part of our interdependent web. Even if we can’t be in direct relationship with them, we will always be in indirect relationship with them, and so by pouring love and and kindness out into that interdependent web of all existence, we can support them from a distance. Intimacy is not always required to provide care.

A large, healthy system, like the one this congregation has worked so hard to become, is strong enough to take a risk as a community when the risk is too great for one single person to bear. Like the criminal protagonists and the NovaCorps, we are stronger when we work together to fight a common enemy for the good of all. Like Jesus, we have the power to heal those who come to us, who willingly join with us.

And here’s the really difficult part of the story for us to bring into our daily lives. After the Guardians defeat Ronan, after they save the planet, and stop the spread of destruction to the rest of the universe, NovaCorps erases their criminal records. Builds them a ship to replace the one they lost in the battle. And then lets them go free.

They are given a clean slate, and the chance for a new beginning. The past is forgiven, but not forgotten — there is an understanding that if they break this new covenant, there will be repercussions. But until that happens, they will be treated like any other member of the community. I love this, because it’s not a magical panacea that erases everything about their lives and personalities.

Your past is always a part of who you are. Their personalities have not changed, but now? Now they have a vision of the future in which they are empowered to make better choices, despite the systems of oppression that have formed them. The sequel hasn’t come out yet, so I’m sure we’re going to see some bad choices yet to come. They’re flawed. We’re flawed.

But as the story of the Canaanite woman tells us, even Jesus was flawed. Groot was flawed. We can be flawed and still be powerful beings co-creating the universe, one choice at a time. We can still recognize the respect the ways in which we are connected to one another, from our closest friends and family to strangers on the other side of the globe.

We are Groot.

Color_Stripe

Ten Days of Returning

Color_Stripe

Ten Days of Returning

Listen to the homily here:

Ten Days of Returning

Or, watch and listen to the homily on Facebook

Color_Stripe

I spent this summer working as a chaplain at Vanderbilt. And one of the most heartbreaking encounters I had was with a person I’ll call Alex.

Alex had been admitted for observation, as they had a lot of medical problems with as yet no concrete source. And without knowing why Alex was suffering so much, the doctors couldn’t treat them. And over the course of my many conversations with Alex, they confided in me, through uncontrollable tears, that they believed their physical suffering was a punishment from God.

I’m sure you can imagine what my gut reaction to that was. But my job as a chaplain was to listen, to help a person through their own theology, not to convert them to mine. So I asked Alex to tell me why they believe that.

“I’ve done awful things in my past,” they said. “I used to sell my body, as a prostitute. I did drugs. I was so sinful. And then one day, one of my clients, told me they loved me and wanted to marry me. They brought me to Jesus. They saved my life.”

Knowing that they would be admitted to the hospital for several days, Alex had brought comforting mementos. Their partner had died, but Alex showed me their love letters and wedding photographs. They played me voicemails from church members that they’d saved, messages of love and support. And the tears just kept flowing, because of that unspeakable thought that God is punishing them for past transgressions.

By all accounts, Alex’s conversion was genuine. Their participation in church life after the death of their partner was very clear, and that community knew their life story and welcomed them wholeheartedly. This sense of punishment was not coming from the people who had taught them religion.

So I nudged a little bit, asking them to think about the contradiction between how they describe the forgiveness freely given to them by their partner and their church, the forgiveness they clearly believed Jesus had given them, and this plague on their body they also feel was sent by God.

“I know Jesus loves me, and has forgiven me,” Alex said. “I know my love and my church has forgiven me, truly. <beat> I just can’t forgive myself.”

And there it is. That immense power that each of us has within us to define our reality. For better or for worse.

Tonight at sundown is the beginning of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year and the entrance to the Ten Days of Teshuvah. Now, in our Western culture, teshuvah is often translated as “repentance”.

Using repentance, on its own, is not a bad thing — it’s about recognizing one’s faults and committing to improving our behavior when we’ve done wrong. In our faith that is built on covenants, on making promises to one another about how we will be with each other in community, it’s important to be able to change for the better.

But repentance has a lot of emotional baggage that comes with it as a word in our culture. Sadness. Remorse. Even shame. There is the implication that when one repents, those parts of one’s life are erased, forgotten, or at least that they should be. That is where Alex was living. The other people in their life, the ones who taught them about love and forgiveness, were recognizing their whole self. They saw Alex’s past as an integral part of who they are, as part of the entire life that led them to be a loving partner and devoted member of a community spreading love and generosity in the world.

But Alex can’t escape the thought that they needed to be perfect all along. That to be worthy of that love and acceptance, that they need to somehow purge these experiences that have helped to make them who they are today. Alex is fighting being made whole in love.

According to many Jewish linguists, a more accurate translation of teshuvah for Western culture is “returning”. Not only does it carry less baggage than “repentance”, but it implies a cyclical, ongoing process around a centering point. Instead of a cutting off from the the past, teshuvah becomes about integration, and wholeness. In order to truly live out our full potential as human beings, we must be willing to recognize all of our past as part of our selves.

I talk a lot about how our Universalist heritage calls us to radical hospitality and loving those who we want to hate, usually in the context of others. Today, that radical hospitality and reaching out in love is for ourselves. These ten days of teshuvah, of returning, are an opportunity for us to say “I am loved. All of me.” All the forgiveness in the world from others means nothing if we’re not willing to forgive ourselves.

Color_Stripe