Landscape of a Dream

A sermon Offered by Rev. Tim Kutzmark
March 26, 2006 • Unitarian Universalist Church of Reading

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CALL TO MEDITATION

Some place where there isn't any trouble?  Do you suppose there is such a place, Toto?  There must be.  It's not a place you can get to by a boat or a train.  It's far, far away -- behind the moon — beyond the rain — somewhere over the rainbow.  Where the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.
—From the film “The Wizard of Oz”

THE FIRST READING

A selection from L. Frank Baum’s one hundred year old “The Wizard of Oz.”
Dorothy stood in the doorway with Toto in her arms, and looked at the sky.  Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer’s wife.  When Dorothy stood in the doorway and looked around, she could see nothing but the great prairie on every side.  Not a tree nor a house broke the broad sweep of flat country that reached the edge of the sky in all directions.  Uncle Henry sat upon the doorstep.  Aunt Em was washing the dishes.  From the far north they heard a low wail of the wind.  Suddenly, Uncle Henry stood up.  “There’s a cyclone coming, Em,” he called to his wife.  Then he ran towards the sheds where the cows and horses were kept.  Aunt Em dropped her work . . . “Quick, Dorothy!” she screamed; “run for the cellar!”  [But] Toto jumped out of Dorothy’s arms and hid under the bed, and [Dorothy] started to get him.  When she was halfway across the room there came a great shriek from the wind . . . a strange thing then happened.  The house whirled around two or three times and rose slowly through the air.  Dorothy felt as if she were going up in a balloon. 

THE SECOND READING

“Where the Rainbow Ends” by Jameson Currier

Hope is really all we have, I thought, while sitting on the railing of the upstairs deck, the sunset falling warmly against me.  Behind me, Tony, shirtless and wearing baggy boxer shorts, was sweeping the deck and I listened to the rhythm of his broom against the wood, trying to blend the sound into the ocean waves, trying, really, to detect some encoded message, trying to find some sort of revelation to life.  I hope, you hope, we hope, was all I could come up with.Weren’t we all hoping that time would not give up on us?  Weren’t we investing, after all, in the possibilities of the future?

Landscape of a Dream
A Sermon Offered by Rev. Tim Kutzmark

When is it ok to dream?  Not those sleepy-time dreams, when eyes are shut, body is slumbering, and mind is transported into the wild unconscious.  No, when is it ok to dream wide and awake?  When is it allowable to let our heart and mind take wing and fly?  What is it that shapes those dreams into reality?

We each come from many different realities, many different religious backgrounds, many different childhoods, many different adulthoods.  We have each walked many different paths through life.  As poet May Sarton writes: “It’s taken time, many years and places.”  And yet, with the exception of Ruth White who was born into this congregation, something ultimately brought each of us to this one place.  Something led each one of us to this one place, this spiritual, this religious, and this humanist home. 

What was it that led each of us here?  Were we each dreaming the self-same dream?

Young Dorothy Gale had a dream inside of her, created in part by the environment that shaped her.  Her home was in a place that was harsh and unforgiving.  As author L. Frank Baum tells us, “Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer’s wife.  When Dorothy stood in the doorway and looked around, she could see nothing but the great prairie on every side.  The sun had baked the plowed land into a gray mass.  Even the grass was not green, for the sun had burned the tops of the long blades until they were the same gray color to be seen everywhere.  Once the house had been painted, but the sun blistered the paint and the rains washed it away, and now the house was a dull and gray as everything else.  When Aunt Em came there to live she was a young, pretty wife.  The sun and wind changed her, too.  They had taken the sparkle from her eyes and left them a sober gray; they had taken the red from her cheeks and lips, and they were gray also.  She was thin and gaunt, and never smiled now.”    (L. Frank Baum, The Wizard of Oz, p. 2) 

This harsh Kansas land is not the landscape of lullabies.  And yet, for some of us, this Kansas land might seem like the landscape of our own lives: dried out, worn, spiritless, the smiles burned away.  For some of us, this Kansas land might seem like the conservative religious landscape beyond these walls: unyielding and unforgiving.  For some of us, this Kansas land might seem like our country’s current political landscape: polarized and oppressive.  For some of us, this Kansas land might seem like the social landscape we live within: a hierarchy of class, color, connections, and consumerism—a hierarchy that crushes out difference and diversity.

Don’t we dream of something more?

One hundred and seventy-nine years ago next Sunday, forty-six people decided to dream of a different way.  One hundred and seventy-nine years ago next Sunday, forty-six people dreamed of creating a nurturing, affirming place for spiritual and social transformation.  One hundred and seventy-nine years ago next Sunday, forty-six people at the Third Parish Church in Reading decided that their landscape of religion and politics and society was far too harsh and unforgiving.  One hundred and seventy-nine years ago next Sunday, on April 2, 1827, this congregation dreamed of and created.  We’ve gone through several names, several incarnations, and several locations since them, but the dream of liberal religion in this region has remained the same.  One hundred and seventy-nine years ago next Sunday, the question was asked: “If we dare dream, will they come?”  If we dare dream, will they stay?”

We are part of a long line of people who have come and stayed.  We are the people of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Reading, MA.  And here we have gathered, gathered side by side.  Here we have gathered—dreamers side by side. 

But is dreaming enough?  Is dreaming enough?

Have you heard the story of Larry Walters?  He was a first class dreamer; he might even have rivaled Dorothy Gale and her Land of Oz.  Since Larry Walters was a child, he dreamed of flying up, up, and away.  Bad eyesight kept him from being a commercial pilot; he became a truck driver instead.  But he never stopped dreaming, sitting evenings out in his back yard in an old aluminum lawn chair, looking up, up, and away.

Larry Walters’ story continues in The New York Times, July 3, 1982:

A regional air safety inspector reports that a flying lawn chair was spotted by a Trans World Airlines pilot.  The chair was not empty.  According to the Police, Mr. Larry Walters, 33 years old, of North Hollywood went to a friend's house, inflated 45 six-foot weather balloons and attached them to an aluminum lawn chair tethered to the ground.  This morning, with half a dozen friends holding the tethers, he donned a parachute, grabbed some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, a BB gun, and a six pack of Miller Lite, strapped himself into the chair and had his friends slowly let him up. But instead of rising just a few feet over his neighborhood, he suddenly shot up 16,000 feet, right into the approach-corridor to the L.A. International Airport.”   Larry and the lawn chair took a 45-minute ride . . . before Larry got cold, shot some balloons out with a BB gun and crashed into a power line . . . briefly blacking out a small area in Long Beach.  Larry was not injured.  "Since I was 13 years old, I've dreamed of going up into the clear blue sky in a weather balloon," Larry Walters said.  "By the grace of God, I fulfilled my dream.” (Adapted and edited from article in The New York Times, July 3, 1982)

Meditating upon the lawn-chair balloon man, noted Unitarian Universalist author Robert Fulghum observes: “The human race sits in its chair.  On the one hand is the message that says there’s nothing left to do.  And the Larry Walters of the earth are busy tying balloons to their chairs, directed by dreams.  The human race sits in its chair.  On the one hand is the message that the human situation is hopeless.  And the Larry Walters of the earth soar upward knowing anything is possible.” (Robert Fulghum, specific source unknown)

Dreaming is important.  Dreaming is important.  But make no mistake; dreaming is only the beginning.  There comes a time when we need more than dreams.  Dreams may take us over the rainbow.  Dreams may take us into the approach corridor of the L.A. International Airport.  Dreams may take us into the plans for expansion of our stone church at 239 Woburn Street.  Dreams may take us into the growth of this caring community of memory and hope.  But what will sustain us once we get there?  What will sustain life the morning after the dream?

There is a second part to Larry Walters’ story:

From The Los Angeles Times, November 24, 1993:

“Famed as the lawn-chair balloon man, truck driver Larry Walters, 44, recently shot himself to death in a remote canyon in the Angeles National Forest near Los Angeles.  Relatives were unsure of the motive.”

It is not enough to simply dream.  It is not enough to fill colored balloons with helium and float up somewhere over the rainbow.  We need to build a foundation that will hold our lives once we touch back down on solid earth.  Without that base, we live in a fantasy world.  Without that support, we only dream a land that never can be.

At some point in our lives, we each have dreamed of finding a spiritual home, a church community that welcomes us whoever we are, whatever we are, wherever we are on our life journey.

For some of us, that dream brought us here many, many years ago.  We’ve put down roots, we’ve grown older here, some of us have grown old here.  We’ve dedicated our children and buried our friends and family here.  For others of us, our dream has only recently brought us across the threshold, and our freshness is just beginning to be woven into the possibility of this place.  But whether we are old timers, new friends, or somewhere in the middle, at some point each one of us dreamed of finding a church community that “points [us] to what is noblest and best in human life.” (Rev. Roy Phillips, source unknown) 

We dream a place big enough to hold all the pieces of our life—the good, the bad, the ugly, the messy, and the miraculous.  We dream a place that “insults neither our intelligence nor our conscience, that calls us to worship what is truly worthy of our love.”  We dream a place “where [our] children can come without being saddled with guilt; where they can learn that religion is for joy, for comfort, for gratitude, and for love.” (Rev. Roy Phillips, source unknown)  We dream a place that lets young and old together proudly proclaim: “In the light of truth, the warmth of community, the fire of commitment, we gather this day!”  We dream a place that, no matter how rough the day, no matter how hard the week, we can count on someone saying: “May you leave this place knowing you are good and knowing you are loved.”  We dream a community challenging us to hear the truth of the silenced and the oppressed.  We dream a community calling us to add our voice to the justice song.   A community challenging us to “take our light and our love and share it with the world.”  A community that dares to lovingly point a finger and say, “Wait a minute, you are blessed, and you need to do more.” We dream a community where we can do together what alone we could not accomplish.

This is the community our dreams have made, let us rejoice and be glad in it! 

But dreams need to be renewed.  Dreams need to be reviewed.  Dreams need to be anchored with reality.  Dreams need to be supported. 

This is our annual Canvass Time, when we covenant with each other to be partners in sustaining the reality of our beloved community, the Unitarian Universalist Church of Reading. 

This is the day we dream.  And this is the day we root ourselves in some grounding questions.  What does this church mean to you?  What is this church worth to you?  What is this church worth to your family?

This is the day we dream.  And this is the day we root ourselves in some grounding questions.  Do you have gifts, talents, and skills that will make this community stronger?  How can you share them?  What is it that you bring?  What can your presence and participation offer that no one else can?  How can you safely share some part of yourself, even if you already feel pulled in too many directions?   Could moving in the direction of this church help you feel more whole?

This is the day we dream.  And this is the day we root ourselves in some grounding questions.  Have you been blessed this year?  Do you have financial resources that could make this community stronger?  How can you share some part of that blessing?  Can you share 3-5% of your income, which is what we are encouraging people to pledge this year?  And no matter what you can—or are willing to offer—can your dollars become the foundation for one more year of open doors and expansive programs? 

I believe in this faith.  I believe in Unitarian Universalism.  I believe in the Unitarian Universalist Church of Reading.  I believe in you.  I believe in us.  I believe in who we will be together.  And that is why I am pledging 5% of my pre-tax income to our church. I pledge back to you—to us—$3,000.  If you are a member or active friend of this church, will you join me, will you make the dream of 5% from each of us a reality?  Will you join me in sustaining this place of freedom and faith for one more year?

And if you are not in a position to contribute great amounts of money to this church, what can you still offer?  Some of us can offer $10,000; others of us can offer $10.00.  There is no gift too small, be it financial, be it time, be it talent.  For it comes from your heart.  For it comes from our heart.

Let us share our hearts with one another. 

Perhaps you are a more recent visitor or friend who will not be formally canvassed out of respect for your newness to our community.  Perhaps, in fact, you are a first time visitor today.  Welcome!  This day belongs to you as well.  We invite you to join us in asking: “Why are you here this Sunday?  What spiritual dream is awakening within you?  How will you manifest that which waits beyond the dreaming?”

No matter who you are, no matter where you are in your life, no matter what your relationship to this church community, it is time to reach beyond the rainbow.  It is time to reach beyond the landscape of a dream.  It is time to invest in the possibilities of the future.

Blessed Be.  Amen.