How to Stop Running in Circles

A Sermon Offered by Rev. Tim Kutzmark
October 2, 2005 · Unitarian Universalist Church of Reading

We must stop.
We must sit down in a circle
And reason together.
—Marge Piercy, adapted

Last year, I moved back to Boston from Richmond, Virginia. My partner and I rented the top floor of a monstrous, drafty, three-story home on Rt. 9 in Newton, close to the 128 on- and off-ramps. Thus began one fast-moving year. Each day I would get up before the sun, meditate and pray, eat breakfast, jump in my car, and drive my way down Rt. 95 through morning rush hour to Providence RI, where I would work all day as the chaplain at Hasbro Children’s Hospital. Each evening, at rush hour, I would repeat the commute in reverse. The trip was a minimum hour drive each way, and sometimes, thanks to a wreck or weather, it could take up to 90 minutes or more one way. And so, last year, I never seemed to stop driving. My life felt like a never ending circle between Boston and Providence, an endless loop of driving to work, walking through hospital halls, driving home, shoving dinner down my throat, conducting a search for a new congregation, walking the dog, squeezing in a few hours of sleep, and then driving my car, walking halls . . . you get the idea. It felt like I never was able to sit down with my partner, I felt like I was never able to sit down and have a real conversation with friends—you know the kind I mean—where you talk about things that matter, where you hear what is spoken, and, when you speak, your words come from a considered place deep within. I was craving connection to something more than forward motion. I was craving connection to something more than the speed of the world around me.

It all came to a head one late autumn day. It was my time to do laundry. I descended the three flights of stairs to the basement, only to find that the washing machine had broken down sometime during the week. It had been years since I had needed to take my clothes to a Laundromat, and I had no desire to start then. But I got in my car, drove to the “Fold and Fluff,” dumped my clothes into one of those large, glass-front industrial size front-loading washing machines, dropped in what seemed like $50.00 in quarters to make it spin, and sat down.

Within seconds, I was mesmerized by my clothes tumbling around and around in a circle in the water. Round and round in a circle they raced, an endless loop, getting nowhere. Suddenly, I realized that I felt like those clothes. My days felt like those clothes. Spinning round and round in a circle, in an endless loop, getting nowhere but worn and weary . . . barely connecting to anyone or anything, including myself.

Life can often make us feel like we have been dumped into one of those large, glass-front industrial size front-loading washing machines. Our minds can often feel like one of those large, glass-front industrial size front-loading washing machines: our thoughts, our worries, our obsessions, our projections, our fears spinning round and round in a circle in our head, around and around, in an endless loop, getting us nowhere.

The world around us can also feel the same way, as our friends, our partners, our spouses, our children, our grandchildren, our great grandchildren all seem to spin around us, faster and faster, with no time to sit, talk, connect, communicate. No time to simply be together.

How many of us have ever said: “I feel like I am running in circles!” How many of us have ever said: “It feels like the world is spinning in circles.” How many of us have ever said: “Stop the world, I want to get off!”

When did the concept of being in a circle become so dizzying, so disorienting? When did the concept of an endless loop become so defiled, so profane, so negative?

At one time, the circle was the source and sustainer of life. In ancient times, the fire circle was a center of existence. The fire circle was where food was cooked, where warmth was found, where stories were told, were decisions were made. The fire circle was where safety was secured, where prayers were uttered, where gods were worshipped. The fire circle was a place where connection was made.

In ancient times, the family circle was a center of existence. It was where babies were born, children were reared, traditions were taught, and lessons were learned. It was where generations were mingled, age was respected, and death was honored. The family circle was a place where connection was made.

In ancient times, the spiritual circle was a center of existence. It was where questions where asked, mysteries explored, and wisdom passed on. The spiritual circle was a place where connection was made.

The circle was where we had the time to stop, sit, reflect, and share.

For some ancient peoples, the circle was the symbol of time itself. The Babylonians looked at a circle and saw a perfect representation of time’s passage—not one that was linear or thrusting forward towards final completion, as in our Western way of thinking, but a notion of time that was cyclical, repetitive, and infinite. This was a type of time they witnessed in the natural world around them. The circle symbolized the turning wheel of the year through the cycle of the seasons; it was the cycle of day into night and into day once more; it was the cycle of joy into disillusionment into hope restored (A Dictionary of Symbols, Jean Chevalier and Alain Gheerbrant). This turning wheel of life was the source of reincarnation in the Hindu, Buddhist, Sikh, and Jain traditions; it was the root of resurrection in the Jewish, Christian and Muslim traditions. We can see it today in earth-based and pagan spirituality—the endless loop of life spinning on.

Says Celtic scholar John O’Donohue: “We come out of the darkness of winter into the possibility and effervescence of springtime . . . We come out of the night into the day. All creativity awakens at this primal threshold where light and darkness test and bless each other. You only discover balance in your life when you learn to trust the flow of this ancient [circular] rhythm.” (Anam Cara, pgs. 4-5)

But the circle symbolized more than the balance of time. For some, the circle was the sign of Divinity itself.

There is a wonderful old tale from Eastern Europe, told about the Baal Shem Tov, a legendary 18th century Jewish mystic:

Once, Rabbi Dov Baer was summoned in the dead of night to the study of the great Baal Shem Tov. When he arrived, Rabbi Dov Baer saw the master, a holy aura around his face.

“Do you study Kabbalah?” the Baal Shem Tov asked. “Yes,” replied Rabbi Dov Baer. The Baal Shem Tov beckoned the Rabbi to come closer, and when he did, said in a low voice, “What is it that can only be taught in a whisper?’ “The deep yearning of the heart to belong” the Rabbi replied.

Rabbi Dov Baer told what happened next:

“At that moment the Baal Shem Tov sat on the floor and curled up in a ball, and all at once he was surrounded by a fiery circle and I could no longer see him . . . I saw the circle of fire burn as if it were a single flame, white and pure, which seemed to resemble a living figure, some kind of spiritual being. Indeed, at that moment I was certain that in the circle had appeared the very Prince of Presence, Adonai, the Living God.” (Gabriel’s Palace, p. 202, adapted)

Divinity revealed in a circle, time captured by a circle, life sustained through a circle.

At the age of nine, Black Elk, the Native American medicine man, received a vision. He saw a great circle, representing the oneness within all creation, the spiritual connection linking us all. He remembers:

Then I was standing
On the highest mountain
Of them all,
And round beneath me
Was the whole hoop of the world.
And while I stood there
I saw more than I can tell
And I understood more than I saw.
For I was seeing . . .
The shape of all things
Of the spirit . . .
And I saw that the sacred hoop
Of my people
Was one of many hoops
That make one circle,
And I saw that it was holy.

How can we reclaim the sacredness of the circle? How can we reclaim the sacredness of our life? How can the many hoops we jump through everyday be transformed into something that reveals the holiness of all things?

One simple but powerful way is to become part of a Chalice Circle. Chalice Circles is a new program beginning here at our church next month. It is open to everyone and anyone. It is also a phenomenon that is sweeping through Unitarian Universalist congregations throughout the country. Its premise is simple: we are all seeking a deeper connection to ourselves and to other people; we all crave a place where we are known and can know others; we all need a place where we can discuss the questions in our heart.

And so, small groups of 8-10 people agree to meet together twice a month for seven months. We sit together in a circle, facing each other, so we can see everyone clearly, and we ourselves can be seen. We light a chalice, the symbol of our faith, a fire that harkens back to the fire circles of ancient times. We are guided by a trained facilitator, who will walk with us on the journey we take together. We are presented with a theme, a subject that awakens thoughts and feelings. One week, it might be to remember the things that bring us great joy. Another week, we might discuss the dreams that we never pursued, and why. We might gather around the question of what gives us inner strength in uncertain times.

And an amazing thing happens in these circles. We find ourselves having real spiritual conversations—you know the kind I mean—where you talk about things that matter, where you hear what is spoken, and, when you speak, your words come from a considered place deep within.

I had the great privilege of starting a Circles program with my previous congregation. And I am in awe of what I saw happen to people. I saw barriers break down, I saw hearts open, and I saw joy overflow. I’ll never forget one day, as our Women’s Circle hosted a luncheon for new church members. I saw women of all ages and backgrounds, women who would never have come into contact with each other in the day-to day-life of our church, and these women were friends. They were cooking and laughing together. They had found something holy in being a circle together. Phil, a member of our Men’s Circle told me, “It was a time for myself, a quiet time of self study, to focus on my feeling and purpose in life. Whatever the topic, it seems to be exactly what I needed at the time.” Vince, another circle member, said: “I have felt supported, enlightened and connected . . . connected by the way the others are willing to share their joy and pain on their journey.” Jodi called the circles “a place to rest if we need it” and Tina summed up her circle experience, saying: “By sharing and listening to others, I feel that I have deepened my awareness and appreciation for life.”

What will you find if you come to a Chalice Circle? Some of us might find ourselves. Some of us might find Divinity. Some of us might find a friend. Some of us might find stimulating conversation. Some of us might find the time to stop and sit still. Some of us might find the intimacy we have been missing as our church grows and changes. Some of us might find….well, you’ll just have to join the circle and discover for yourself.

The signup sheets are in your order of service. Beginning in November, circles will meet during the evening, during the day, and during the weekend. If none of those times work, and another time would, let us know on the sign up sheet [note to those reading this sermon: sign up sheets can be provided by the church office. Call 781-944-0494 for more information].

Remember, the fires are being lit. The guides have been summoned:

Nora Buckley
Ruth Goldberg
Clyde Hardin
Jasmine Hatzopoulos
Paula Koppel
Margaret Soli,
Dru Wood-Beckwith

Remember. The fires are being lit. The circles are being formed. There is a place for you. There is a place for us.

The best way to stop running in circles is to sit in one.

May it be so. Blessed Be. Amen.