by Connie Goodbread, UU Southern Region Congregational Life Staff
I bought my husband, Bob, a t-shirt at General Assembly which has printed on it, “God bless the whole world, no exceptions.” He got it for Christmas two years ago.
At this time of year, I am reminded of what could be. Even in the shadow of tragedy, there is a promise of hope and goodwill. On December 7, 1914, Pope Benedict XV suggested a temporary hiatus of the war for the celebration of Christmas. The warring countries refused to create any official cease-fire, but on Christmas the soldiers in the trenches declared their own unofficial truce. The troops sang Christmas Carols together. They left their trenches and crossed no-man’s-land to offer up a Merry Christmas and Fröhliche Weihnachten. Afterward, many soldiers wondered it they could go back to killing. Might they go against orders and spare one another, lay down their weapons, and wage peace? It was not meant to be - officers’ threats of disciplinary action brought the idea to an end. Even so, this event serves as heartening proof, however brief, that beneath the brutal clash of weapons, the soldiers’ essential humanity endured. http://www.history.com/topics/world-war-i/christmas-truce-of-1914
It is so much easier to wage war than it is to wage peace. Waging peace means we must look at our role in the reality of what is going on around us. Waging peace means that we must take responsibility for the things of which we are not proud. We must try to make amends. Admit we've done wrong. This is true as individual human beings and as nations. What is our responsibility? What have I done and what have we done that has been less than helpful to a hungry, parched, weary, and hopeless world?
I have suggested on more than one occasion that we go forth and wage peace. I have had pushback on this suggestion. Mostly from folks who do not like the language of war. “Could you say that in a different way?” or “I wish you would suggest that we go forth and create peace or go forth and be the peace we wish to see in the world.” I understand that feeling and the desire to take the language of war out of the way we speak, yet other ways of saying this don’t convey the message I wish. I mean - go forth and wage peace with the same ease, commitment and passion that you would use to wage war. What would that look like?
My husband Bob and I live less than 2 hours from Disney World. For Christmas last year, we bought annual passes. We have never done it before, and probably won’t do it again for a long while, but it was fun for this one year. We have run over there for parts of days. When we drive by we just stop in and eat or watch the castle show in the Magic Kingdom. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XlRJxHwPnEY This YouTube video gives you an idea of what the show is like.
Because we can just walk in whenever we want, we have done several things that we would never have thought to do prior to this year. One example: we love the castle show so much, we just stop, camp out under the Walt and Mickey statue, and wait for the show to begin.
Every time we have done this in the past year, a community of people gathers. It is a real community. We feed each other, watch over one another, make sure that the children can see, share wisdom and space. We sing all the Disney songs in English - even when our natural language is Portuguese, Japanese or Hungarian. We laugh, we dash away tears, we are amazed, transformed, as if by magic. In the end, it is always difficult to say good-bye. There is a longing to make it last. We want to hang on to the peaceful, caring community that has formed. We touch, we smile at one another, we are grateful for this brief time we had together. It is, for the briefest moment, perfect. It is beloved. It is community. It forms spontaneously and with purpose. It lasts for two hours at the most. It is touching and real and full of possibility.
A few weeks ago, the last time we did this, Yumiko, a young woman from Japan, made Bob and me an origami Duffy (a Disney bear). As the fireworks ended and the music faded, we all looked at one another with that longing of not really wanting to let go and yet knowing it was time. Yumiko smiled and bowed and pressed the bear into my hand. I looked down and smiled. I thanked her. I was touched. I didn’t think to open it until the next day. It is a thank you note. It says, “Thank you for your kindness. I spent special time!! From Yumiko (Japan)” It sits on my desk and looks at me. It will always sit on my desk. We waged peace with the same ease, commitment, and passion that we would use to wage war. We all did it together, everyone that was in our small community under the Walt and Mickey statue.
At this time of year, when we often take the time to reflect on what we have accomplished or failed at, when we just might open our hearts to people and possibilities, I wish that we would find some time to wage a little peace. “God bless the whole world, no exceptions.” Peace on Earth and goodwill to all - all the people - all the Earth. “God bless us, every one!”
by Natalie Briscoe
I woke up a few mornings ago to find myself in the center of the holiday season. I found count downs on every webpage I visited, heard carols at nearly every outing, watched the commercials filled with anxiety and pressure on television, and felt the palpable disorientation at Starbucks. The scurry and the bustle of the “Season of Joy” are definitely at hand, with all of the pressures and expectations that go along with it.
Many of us long for the perfect season, seasons of an older age when magic was real, anticipation was titillating, and peace ruled throughout each home and each land. We are told through a lot of advertising exactly how much that perfect season will cost, and how long we must stand in line to acquire it. We are told which holiday is the correct holiday to celebrate, which holiday might be acceptable to bring up, and which holidays are not to be mentioned. We are told that we are not only supposed to have elaborate decorations and elaborate meals, we are also supposed to have swarms of family and friends around us at all times, and that these waves of people will bring us good tidings and cheer and cause us to be ever-so thankful for the love in our lives, even when we are lonely and in pain and deeply hurt by those who would call us family. We are told that the holidays will bring up fond memories of days past, not memories of loss and disappointment. We are told that if we don’t have a festive and beautiful holiday season then there must be something wrong with us.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I love the holidays. I host a large Thanksgiving dinner at my home, complete with a gaggle of loud and messy children running around. I can’t wait to get the holiday tree up, the lights strung, and the decorations put out. I love holiday baking and gift-giving and extra time spent with loved ones. I had very happy holidays as a child, with a bounty of food, gifts, and family. I look forward to recreating many traditions each year with my children.
But the holidays are also filled with the pang of loved ones who are no longer with us, and the dread of family members who feel the need to impose all of their expectations and needs and wants onto me and my holiday plans. I scour the internet for lists of safe dinner and family gathering conversations for when the politics are different and the cider is spiked. I rehearse my speeches for clearly telling people that yes, it’s okay to swear around my children, but no, it’s not okay to tickle them or pick them up without their consent. I get ready for the pies to burn or the television to break or the schedule to be thrown out the window, and I try my best to let go of the things which I cannot control.
The holiday season is often a pressure cooker for our social interactions. Some irritations that would not be given a second glance are suddenly boiling to the top during the season. I am often reminded of the Ram Dass quote, “If you think you’re enlightened, go spend a week with your family.” The people we love most often have a tendency to push all of our buttons and stand on every last nerve we have.
I was listening to the radio in the car last week, and during one particular show on which so very many things are considered, the hosts of the program were discussing the effects of dating apps and social media on the cultural expectations of friendships, family, and marriage. One host said that we are “living the lie of uncomplicated connection.” His argument, which struck me so deeply, was that people expect our interactions with each other to be simple and free of any uncomfortable moments. Don’t like someone? Swipe left. Don’t want to listen to someone? Un-friend them. Simple. Clear Cut, Customizable. Easy.
And false. If everyone had a Facebook page that said we are “In a Relationship” with Humanity, the relationship status would be “It’s Complicated.” Human beings have two common but separate needs – the need to be an individual and the need to be part of a group. These competing needs create tension within each of us and within systems that we create and participate in. Throw in a heaping scoop of cultural expectations around the holidays, and you basically have a recipe for a meltdown.
We want to be seen as individuals who have grown, changed, and accomplished so much. We want to be recognized for our hard-won integrity. We also want to feel a part of something much larger than ourselves, to know that we are dipping our hands into the continuously flowing river of life. In our families, we want to know that we are loved and accepted and cherished. In our congregations, we want much the same thing.
In our congregations, however, our Faith Tradition of Unitarian Universalism gives us wonderful tools for navigating the tensions between being an individual and being part of the group. These tools are our Covenants. They are the way we practice our religion.
There is probably no more important statement of identity than a congregation’s covenant. It tells people who you are, what you hold most important, and how you agree to be with one another. Our foundational covenant, the Covenant of the Seven Principles, clearly states the need to be separate individuals (We covenant to affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every human being) and to be part of something much larger (We covenant to affirm and promote the interdependent web of existence of which we are all a part). The human condition is stated clearly in the First and Seventh Principles, and the tension between them is managed through the middle five Principles.
Our covenants are sacred and simple promises we make to one another about how we will be in the world. Bringing our covenants to life is both difficult and rewarding. It brings Unitarian Universalism and our values of hope, love, justice, courage, and joy into the world. It grows us as individuals as we learn how our own integrity calls us to manage these competing tensions, and it grows us as groups and congregations as it incarnates the Beloved Community.
Relying on your covenants can also be helpful to navigate these often treacherous waters of the holidays. We can ask ourselves, “What values do I want to incarnate in the world?” and “Is it possible to choose kindness in this interaction?” In these ways, our simple, deep promises with one another and the world can bring about great peace, no matter how small the effort. And after all, isn’t that the reason for the season?
