A Leap of Faith

A Sermon Offered by Rev. Tim Kutzmark
May 1, 2005 • Unitarian Universalist Church of Reading

"To accomplish anything bold and beautiful in the firmament of time we must learn to change direction and fall gracefully." -Sam Keen

I don't know why I decided I would risk it. I don't know what bold yearning was driving me towards the edge. But one spring morning, I took a leap of faith. That day found me standing in a crowded parking lot, looking up. High above my head is a tall construction crane, rising fifteen stories into the clear spring sky. In the shadow of its cold metal frame, Jim, my incredulous partner, asks: "Are you really going to go through with this?" I smile quickly, and sickly, and make my way to the registration table.

First come the release forms, an endless stream of paper and pen, eliminating any legal recourse in case of injury or death. That done-two burly men approach me, holding out a black belted body harness. I step into it and-click, click, click-they lock it tightly around my waist and legs. I waddle awkwardly over to the base of the crane, and my harness is snapped to four long, elastic bungee cords.

How suddenly the important things in your world can change…those four bungee cords are now the most precious objects in my life, my link to the future. I am guided into a small, roofless yellow metal cage. The oily grinding of a motor clangs on, and I rise quickly, too quickly, up, up, up.

Looking down from the top of the fifteen-story crane makes everything but the pavement seem small. The crowd below joins in as a man with a bull horn begins to bellow: "10, 9, 8, 7 . . ." I realize this jump is not going to happen in my own time, in my own way.

"Step out on onto the ledge," commands the man who is with me in the little metal cage. I step out, a prisoner on a narrow gangplank two feet wide by two feet long. I do the only sane thing left to do. I grab hold of the railing behind me, holding onto the safety of its solidness. "Hold out your arms out wide to the side." I open my arms. Why do I suddenly feel like Jesus about to be crucified?

"7, 6, 5, 4 …" Every cell in my body is screaming: "Do not go forward. Do not move off the edge. Do not step into the unknown."

"3, 2, 1, Bungee!" I release my hold on life, and step forward, flying into the open space that is quietly calling my name.

It is risky business, this thing called life. It often feels as if we are balanced high on the edge of a shaky platform, far from the safety of the ground. Life can often feel as if we are caught in a count down we have not started but must somehow finish: 5, 4, 3, 2. Life often feels like a leap into the unknown.

Look around us. Look at the uncertainties of today's world news: car bombs, gunshots, terror-the unknown. Look at the political polarization in this country, listen to the new debate on moral values-how will it all turn out? The unknown. Look at our own personal lives; many of us are facing things that feel unknown-uncertainties in our job or marriage, a child growing and changing, our own aging, the loss of someone close. And look at this church community: searching for a new minister, launching a building project, financing that vision, growing more fully-all experiences of the unknown.

But the unknown-the edge-is not necessarily negative. The edge can be a place of remarkable opportunity.

Philip Simmons, in his book, Learning to Fall, writes: "I've always loved edges: the edge of night when color drains from the land, the edge of an argument where a fixed idea adjusts to other points of view, the edge of a body where skin meets air, or other skin. I love edges for the vantage they provide." (p. 143)

He continues: "Perhaps you have sat with someone who was near death, and found yourself drawn into [their] inner radiance, into a place where pain and fear give way [and you sense] the nearness of life's source . . . Or you have felt it in those ordinary moments . . . watching a child butter a slice of bread or a [flock of wild geese] settle in a field . . . suddenly nothing else matters and you feel like removing your shoes and bowing down. We all have within us this capacity . . . [to stand at the edge and] to break the bonds of ordinary awareness." (p. 152, adapted)

Is not this the hallmark of our Unitarian Universalist faith-to break the bonds of ordinary awareness? As Unitarian Universalists, we look at the world through a different set of eyes. Our Unitarian Universalist faith has always been willing to step to the edge and push forward the evolution of the human spirit. At our best, we take to heart these words by poet Muriel Rukeyser: "Look! Be: leap. Roar in the broad sky. Put your face to the wind. FLY."

But a word of caution: It is not wise to blindly leap. We must never step forward without being connected to something. That morning of my leap of faith, I jumped out into the open space only because there were four bungee cords holding onto me. And so it is with our life. We need to know there is something to hold us and guide us as we step forward.

So let me ask you: What allows you to step into the unknown? Our answer, is, I believe, the foundation of a spiritual life. Knowing where we ground our trust is the source of our courage, our hope, and our vision for the future.

I would like to share with you four strong cords, four core principles of faith, that hold me and guide me in my uncertain times. These allow me to get up each morning and meet a new day. They hold me at the moments of my greatest despair. They give me the strength to be a minister. They are personal, yes, but they are also rooted in our shared Unitarian Universalism.

First: I believe that there is goodness within all people. I don't shut my eyes to the hurt and harm that ignorance and evil can cause. I've felt it in my own life and I've seen it in the world. But as a Unitarian Universalist, I believe that the human heart can be cultivated. This is the historic foundation of our Unitarian Universalist faith. I believe in human worth and dignity. I believe that, given the right circumstances, everyone one of us can manifest that worth and dignity in our lives, and in the world. I believe this, deeply. How could I not? I have seen so much beauty and so much care in so many different faces, in so many different places: in the isolation of the Burn Unit at Massachusetts General Hospital; in a loving UU congregation in the suburbs of Richmond, VA; at the bedside of a child dying from cancer at Hasbro Children's Hospital; at a civil rights rally on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial; in the healing stillness of a spiritual retreat in upstate New York. I believe what my faith and my experience tell me. I believe in the goodness within us all.

Second: Despite the collective cynicism of our day, I believe we can still work together for the dawning of a more enlightened time. I believe we are moving slowly, ever so slowly, towards a better day. This was once a cherished value of Unitarian Universalism. And I believe it is still part of the profound religious vision we offer to the world. Even as we celebrate the beauty of each individual, we must realize that the true treasure of life is found only as individuals reach out beyond themselves. I'm not naïve. I read the papers. I know history. I hear the cries of greed, exploitation, power, nationalism, and war. But I also believe that peoples and nations are connecting and cooperating in ways never before imagined. Some national boundaries are being bridged; some bonds of unity are being forged to maintain peace and foster justice. Some people are reminding us that moral responsibility extends beyond the human world into the wondrous web of all creation. However imperfect we may be, we are fashioning new ways of being in relationship with one another. We can add our voices to this growing chorus of non-violence, mutuality, and accountability. Our Unitarian Universalist faith still envisions a "world community with peace, liberty and justice for all." We may not see that day, and many generations may not see it fully realized. But I hope that, one day, history will be written by the heart and not the hate. "To hold . . . each other, to fly together, and know that "we are" is more fundamental than "I am," is the beginning of that journey." (Sam Keen, Learning To Fly)

What allows me to step into the unknown?

Third: I believe that we are participants in an unprecedented exploration of spiritual truths. Prior to the last one hundred years or so, religious and spiritual traditions were kept mostly separate and isolated in different parts of the world. The world was barely connected. But today-through travel and the technology, through the mobility of ideas, through books and articles; through teachers and students-today, these different threads of religious thought are coming into contact with each other, informing each other, informing us. The many hidden schools of Buddhism are now talking to the mystical traditions within Judaism. Ancient earth based traditions are coming into contact with Orthodox Christianity. Science, too, is broadening this view. For the first time in the history of the human mind, we have access to the full breadth of spiritual wisdom. If we take this into our core, it has the power to redefine our experience of the spiritual and philosophical life. I don't know what it will ultimately look like, or feel like, but boundaries are mixing and merging into something timeless and new. Contrary to the words coming out of Rome these days, contrary to fundamentalism's backward glance, truth is not an immovable fixed point. The many facets of truth will only be found through ways both ancient and modern. And who better to lead the way than religious liberals? Religious liberalism is not a dirty word. It is who we are-an identity to be proud of. It is how we will contribute to the future of humanity. I believe that history will one day look back and call this time the real religious Reformation. This is a good time to have a brain and be able to use it. This is a good time to have a heart and be able to open it. This is a great time to be a Unitarian Universalist!

Lastly: I believe there is something greater than my own self. I believe there is something greater than each one of us, individually. It moves in my life and in the world. Each of us experiences this in a different way. We give it many names, or no names at all. But there is something awesome in this universe, and it holds my soul, and it makes me feel I can be whole. It makes me feel we all are part of something whole.

As we move into the unknown, I believe:

I believe that there is great goodness within all people. I believe we can still work together for the dawning of a more enlightened time. I believe that we are participants in an unprecedented exploration of spiritual truths. I believe there is something greater that holds us all.

Poet Patrick Overter writes:

When you have come to the edge
of all . . . you know
And are about to step off
Into the . . . the unknown,
Faith is knowing that
One of two things will happen:
There will be something solid to stand on
Or you will be taught how to fly.

We stand, together, on the edge of the unknown-in our world, in our country, in our personal lives, in this church community. May each of us remember those things that will let us take our next step, those things that will give us courage and purpose and meaning.

Let us take a leap of faith. We just might learn how to fly.

Copyright 2005 Tim Kutzmark