What Would You Kill For?

A sermon prepared by Rev. Tim Kutzmark
Sunday, March 11, 2007 • Unitarian Universalist Church of Reading

The night she came to the emergency room, no one expected her to live.  She was eighty-six years old, and the fire had ravaged so much of her body.  There was no possible way she’d stay alive, the doctors thought.  There just couldn’t be enough life or energy left for the great healing that would be needed.  Little did they know the gift she would offer them from within her own broken body.

She had been in the garden that day, raking leaves.  She loved to garden, loved to smell that warm heavy scent of freshly seeded soil, loved to help make things grow.  In her garden, she became part of life’s abundance.  Her neighbors cherished her.  Not so much for her words or company, for she was private and kept to herself.  But she was known and loved for sharing the things she grew in her garden.  Opening their door early on a weekday morning, neighbors would discover a fresh bouquet of daffodils tied with a small blue ribbon, or, perhaps, the most beautifully shaped shiny red pepper.  “It wasn’t really alive,” she would say, “unless it was shared.”

She’d lived through The Great Depression—that time when life dried up, and surviving was the most anyone hoped for. Scarcity seemed the norm.  “But The Depression wasn’t all bad,” she would say.  “I learned that there was always more there than I imagined.  I’d have a potato or two, and think I was going to starve.  I’d think, ‘I’ve got to hold onto this, keep this for myself, for when I need it most.’  But then, someone else would come by with some onions, my next-door neighbor Clara had some carrots, and my sister Jean had flour and would bake bread.  Suddenly, we had made a meal. Suddenly, we had abundance.  On our own, we wouldn’t have had squat.  But together, we made a pretty good stew.  The Depression taught me that true scarcity is in my mind.  True scarcity is our belief that we don’t have enough . . . to share.”

The day of her accident, so many years after The Great Depression had ended, she was burning leaves in a deep pit in her yard.  She slipped on the wet grass at the edge, steadied herself for a moment, and then fell into the burning.  Unable to get herself out, she lay in the smoldering fire for several hours until a neighbor discovered her.

As she was brought into the burn unit, as she was put on the examination table, she started talking about her faith, her God.  One of her doctors remembers, “There we were, cutting off her clothing, preparing to put her in a drug-induced coma because that was the only way her body could perhaps survive the next weeks, and there she was, telling us about the love of God that was surrounding us.  It was amazing.  I don’t believe in God, not in the traditional sense, but I thought, ‘If she still has faith in God in her condition, then I might as well have faith in her.’  I think we all worked harder to save her.  I think we all did something more, even if none of us could say exactly what.  I think she reminded us that we had gifts and strength, and love to share.  And share them we did.  We saved her life.”

Saving Life.  Naming love. Sharing more. Creating abundance.

When asked about it later, this amazing woman commented, “I was raised to believe that you never went anywhere without offering a gift.  I was raised to believe that you never took something without sharing something back in return.  This is what it means to be a religious person.  This is what it means to be a person of faith.  To know that we are all part of the great flow of love, the great circulation of life.  It is us.  We can be part of the flow, or we can stop it up and keep life from happening.” 

She continued: “That night, I was receiving something, such kindness from the doctors and nurses.  They were holding me, helping me.  In their own medical way, they were loving me.  I wanted to give something back, I wanted to love them back.  I can remember lying there on the table thinking, “I’ve got nothing with me to give.  I’ve got nothing more I can share.”  In some way, that hurt more than the burns.  But then I thought, there’s always something to share.  There’s always a gift in everyone for every situation.  And so, I offered them what I had.  I offered them my faith.  I told them that they were going to be held—no matter what happened—in a great, great power of healing and love.  I told them not to be afraid, but to trust however life unfolded itself at this moment.  That was my gift.  I reminded them of what was true.  I offered them my blessing.”

What blessing do you have that you can share? 

What blessing do you have that you can share with this spiritual community?

This is Commitment Sunday here at UUCR.  This is the day we ask each other to remember what is already sacred and true about this church community. This is the day we ask each other to dream of who and what this church community can become.  This is the day we remind each other that we each have abundant gifts to share: gifts of time, talent, participation, help, smiles, kindnesses, and yes, gifts of money.

If you’ve already been sharing yourself with this community, first and foremost, thank you for  sharing your heart’s song with us.  I see how much time and love and dedication so many have already shared.  I look in your faces and I am humbled by the commitment I see.  

I see the hours spent in planning and guiding our sanctuary expansion and new construction.  I see long days in the hot sun weeding and transplanting bushes.  I see late nights as our Governing Board and Board President create policies and make decisions that might not be obvious or glamorous, but are shaping the life of this congregation.  I see the Program Council organizing the vibrancy of all we do together.  I see you who keep our church campus buildings neat and clean and in working order.  I see you who maintain our website and our email news, who videotape our services, who work the sound system. 

I see you who are part of the canvass team, visiting us in our homes to talk about why our church matters to us.   I see you who are devoted to our children, who give up your Sunday mornings week after week to teach other people’s children.  I see you who plan children’s programming. I see you who spend Sunday evenings with our teenagers. 

I see you who keep us connected to our partner church and our religious heritage in Transylvania.  I see you who handle building rentals and room use schedules.  I see you on the Personnel Committee who are working to help us be in right relationship with our growing staff.  I see you on the Safe Congregations Committee who work to keep this a safe and affirming place for all ages and individuals.  I see a Long-Range Planning Committee focusing us towards the future.  I see a Membership Development Task Force that worked to make sure we all feel more connected to each other as we grow.  I see you who archive the history of our liberal faith in Reading.  I see you producing our folk music Coffee House. I see you making this church a community that celebrates the many forms of family, the many ways human beings love one another.  I see you who have raised our awareness of global warming and sustainable life on our fragile planet.

I see you who watch over our finances, who update our database, who bring flowers to Sunday services, who make the magic of our Kris Kringle fair come alive, who give us social hour and pot luck suppers and auctions, who welcome visitors and new members, who hand out the orders of service, who create beautiful music and meaningful worship, who offer gentle comfort through our Caring and Sharing Committee and our Shared Ministry Committee, who point the way towards a more just world through our Social Action Committee, who lead spirituality groups and Chalice Circles, who create adult enrichment experiences, who fold and stuff and stamp and answer phones for the church office.  I see you who have dug deeper and deeper into bank accounts to fund the ambitious vision of our Building Our Future construction project. 

I see each of you, whom I have come to know and love, and I thank you.  We all thank you. 

And with that thanks, I also ask: is there something more that you might share?  Can you perhaps offer yourself and your gift in another way that you haven’t even considered?  In a way that doesn’t drain you, but that might nurture you as much as it nurtures us?  Is there a talent or a passion or an interest you can explore with us?  And, yes, I am not ashamed to ask: can you increase your financial support?  Can you increase your pledge and give more than you had ever thought was possible for you?  There are so many more dreams that need your extra support in order to come alive. 

It is becoming our tradition here at UUCR to ask you to consider pledging 3-5% of your income to this community.  For some of us, that is not feasible: we’re struggling to make ends meet, we live on fixed incomes, we live with debt, we have kids’ college tuition, we may not have a job (or we have a job that barely pays a living wage), we may not have a spouse with whom to split living expenses.  And know how true it is when I say these words: this is your community always.  For there are many ways to share the gift of yourself, and money is not the be-all and the end-all of who we are.

But for many of us, who are currently blessed with the means, I ask you, I ask us, to consider sharing more fully.   I don’t ask anything I don’t do myself.  I pledge 5% of my pre-tax income to our church.  I would love to see so many more of us do that as well.

I also see people who are new to this church, or others who until this moment may not have shared as much here.  First and foremost, let me say how happy we are that you are here.  Welcome home, please make yourself comfortable and savor this amazing spiritual community.  And I also ask you a question.  What abundance is in your life?  Can you, from the heart of your life, offer some time, an idea, a helping hand at a pot-luck or coffee hour or at the front door welcoming us as we enter? 

Church is not created by accident.  Church is created by us.

Author Wayne Muller writes: “It is impossible that you have nothing to offer.  Perhaps you are unsure of your gift, or you are afraid to share it.  Perhaps you are simply waiting for the perfect opportunity.  What are you waiting for?  It is alive inside you at this very moment.”

And let’s not forget the children.  Will we share with our children the lesson that wise elderly woman learned years before her accident.  Can we help them learn to live out her words: “I was raised to believe that you never took something without sharing something back in return.”  Do we teach our children how to be stewards of their church, how to share a helping hand, how to help deliver a meal when someone is sick, how to write a card to someone whose loved one has died, how to help clean up after coffee hour rather than eating and leaving the mess for the grownups to deal with, how to serve vegetables at the homeless shelter, how to tidy up Loring House after a Youth Group meeting rather than expecting staff to do it?  Do we teach this to our children—do we let them practice it here, now—or do we teach them that church is a place to come to simply get something?

How do we all become more connected to the outward flow of love and service that is our message, our morality, and our meaning?

See, our world needs this church.  Our culture needs this church. 

We live in a culture that teaches us that there isn’t enough life to flow to everyone.  There aren’t enough resources to flow to everyone.  There isn’t enough money to flow to everyone.  There isn’t enough worth to flow to everyone.  And we’ve structured a world around that kind of thinking, a world that hoards the resources and the worth for a certain group, and limits and excludes others.  We create societies where only one color or one class or one religion or one type of person counts; anyone who isn’t that way isn’t going to get the best neighborhood, the best education, the best job, the best paycheck, the best chance, the best future, the best life.

We live in a culture that bows down before the myth of scarcity.  We live in a society that creates structures and systems to sustain that scarcity.  There are only so many openings on the team, and someone won’t make it.  There’s only one gold medal, and silver and bronze aren’t it. There’s only one chance, and only one person will get it. 

Our culture teaches us that there isn’t enough to go around, and we’ve got to hold onto what we have or we’ll become part of the have-nots.  If there isn’t enough to go around, we’ve got to keep something back for ourselves. If we don’t hold tight to what we have, we’re going to lose it, we’re going to lose everything.

And yet, there are people who dare to dream of another way.  There is a faith that dares to dream of another way.  There are people who dare to gather and try to live another way.  There is a faith that dares to build and share in another way.  And there are so many more of us than we imagine.

We don’t have to buy into the rumors of scarcity.  We can become people of open-handed abundance.

For you see, there is an energy flowing through the universe.  There is an energy flowing through this church.  We call it many things: life, love, God, creativity, passion, Higher Power, human connection, generosity.  We call it spirituality, we call it humanism—all the things that allow so much to come together to shape this community of faith, comfort, and action. 

Let us together create the flow.   Let us together become the flow.  Let us together become abundance.

May it be so.  Blessed Be.  Amen.

©Copyright 2007 Rev. Timothy A. Kutzmark
All rights reserved.