A Fierce Unrest

In a well-reviewed (by NY Times) book, The Art of Choosing by Sheena Iyengar, the author cites her own research: “Members of more fundamentalist faiths experienced greater hope, were more optimistic when faced with adversity and were less likely to be depressed than their counterparts. Indeed, the people most susceptible to pessimism and depression were the Unitarians, especially those who were atheists. The presence of so many rules didn’t debilitate people; instead, it seemed to empower them. Many of their choices were taken away, and yet they experienced a sense of control over their lives.”

In my estimation choice linked to the spiritual notion of freedom is a cardinal value and virtue, too. My immediate response to the author's judgment regarding happiness and Unitarians was amusement mixed with a desire to argue. I had plenty of justifications why Unitarian are so, as well as why such a "realistic" outlook is not only fitting but good.

I remembered decades ago discourse about inner locus of control vs. external locus of control of one's own behavior, and that the former was evidence of a human being rising to the apex of self-actualization.

In the end I recalled a Unitarian hymn, "A Fierce Unrest" from a Don Marquis poem: "A fierce unrest seethes at the core of all existing things...."

If choice there were, though I believe it to be already a fact of the human condition, I wouldn't hesitate to choose a fierce unrest at the core of my own life.

The Passion of Barack Obama

On Monday Barack Obama hosted an Easter Prayer Breakfast that included a number of Christian leaders, some of whom serve as his administration’s advisors on faith based initiatives. His remarks clearly identify his personal faith as a Christian. He testified:

“I can … tell you what draws me to this holy day and what lesson I take from Christ's sacrifice and what inspires me about the story of the resurrection.

“For even after the passage of 2,000 years, we can still picture the moment in our mind's eye. The young man from Nazareth marched through Jerusalem; object of scorn and derision and abuse and torture by an empire. The agony of crucifixion amid the cries of thieves. The discovery, just three days later, that would forever alter our world -- that the Son of Man was not to be found in His tomb and that Jesus Christ had risen.

“We are awed by the grace He showed even to those who would have killed Him. We are thankful for the sacrifice He gave for the sins of humanity. And we glory in the promise of redemption in the resurrection.

“And such a promise is one of life's great blessings, because, as I am continually learning, we are, each of us, imperfect. Each of us errs -- by accident or by design. Each of us falls short of how we ought to live. And selfishness and pride are vices that afflict us all.

“It's not easy to purge these afflictions, to achieve redemption. But as Christians, we believe that redemption can be delivered -- by faith in Jesus Christ. And the possibility of redemption can make straight the crookedness of a character; make whole the incompleteness of a soul. Redemption makes life, however fleeting here on Earth, resound with eternal hope.

“Of all the stories passed down through the gospels, this one in particular speaks to me during this season. And I think of hanging -- watching Christ hang from the cross, enduring the final seconds of His passion. He summoned what remained of His strength to utter a few last words before He breathed His last breath.

“'Father,' He said, ‘into your hands I commit my spirit’ Father, into your hands I commit my spirit. These words were spoken by our Lord and Savior, but they can just as truly be spoken by every one of us here today. Their meaning can just as truly be lived out by all of God's children.

“So, on this day, let us commit our spirit to the pursuit of a life that is true, to act justly and to love mercy and walk humbly with the Lord. And when we falter, as we will, let redemption -- through commitment and through perseverance and through faith -- be our abiding hope and fervent prayer.”

In my estimation we each have a narrative by which we comprehend our individual lives. Try to imagine how Mr. Obama’s looks at his astonishing life, in light of his personal testimony.

Perhaps he sees himself as the classic Christian “suffering servant,” bearing scorn and derision for a greater good: “to act justly and to love mercy and walk humbly with the Lord.” And how does he endure? By committing his spirit to his God, as he offers up the sacrifice of Self.

Further imagine that most immediately Mr. Obama is understanding the travails and eventual success of health care reform, one of the most significant transformations of American society, through this classic narrative. (I think this is reasonable. And it was my immediate response upon reading his words.)

Let’s call this narrative “The Passion of Barack Obama.”

Immortality: Mind and Memory

Last week I officiated at a funeral and two memorial services.

In the Unitarian tradition the eulogy and remembrances are at the heart of end of life observances. This affirms that the deceased was this person and not that person, that she or he lived the life that circumstance shaped; but in the final analysis the deceased chose his or her path. We honestly remember and lovingly honor each life in its excellence and in its tragedy. And so I eulogized three unique personalities. Every human life matters is, indeed, sacred.

The great Russian poet Yevtushenko in his poem “People” intoned:

No people are uninteresting.

Their fate is like the chronicle of planets.

Nothing in them in not particular,

and planet is dissimilar from planet.

And if a man lived in obscurity

making his friends in that obscurity

obscurity is not uninteresting.

To each his world is private

and in that world one excellent minute.

And in that world one tragic minute

These are private.

In honesty and in love, taking my cues from those who loved and/or were closest to the deceased, I craft eulogies in my end of life ceremonies. Each occasion, though grief marbled, affrms the first UU principle--the inherent worth and dignity of each person.

And I talk about other things in the service that relate to the gestalt of grief and remembrance, including human mortality.

I also speak to the sort of immortality I believe in, linking immortality to love and to memory, saying “We must believe that whatever we have known and loved is ours, blended with mind and memory, joined to our souls. The dead are not dead if we have loved them truly. In our lives we give them immortality.”

I believe that this is so, the only sort of conscious immortality we hope for. We, the living, are the bridge to immortality. This is, when you think about it, an awe-inspiring power to possess and a sacred responsibility to wield—to keep alive, resurrect, if you will, the personality that has otherwise dissolved in time. (It was Jesus who at the Last Supper/Passover Seder told his disciples, "Do this in remembrance of me." He wanted to be remembered, one of the most plaintive appeals of the human condition.)

We have traditional yearly days of memory and affirmation: Memorial Day in Spring, All Souls/Veteran Day in Autumn, and today, Easter Sunday. I like the Jewish custom of a year of mourning that releases the mourner to a yearly remembrance, usually on the deceased’s birthday. That’s a good tradition. It grants freedom with responsibility.

I’m of the mind that ceaseless remembrance is the best, the sort recommended in a familiar reading that suggests that the spirit of the deceased is found through all that is beautiful, good, true in the world. You’ll surely recognize the words:

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am in a thousand winds that blow,

I am the softly falling snow.

I am the gentle showers of rain,

I am the fields of ripening grain.

This morning I want you to realize that relative to the life of a person you have loved and who has died, you are a link to their immortality. In this regard, to practice resurrection is to remember,-- perhaps without ceasing,—to remember honestly and lovingly. What an awesome power, what a sacred responsibility this is.

Hold it in your heart. Cherish it with your mind.

Practice resurrection.