Lacrimae Rerum

a sermon preached by the Rev. Dr. Eugene "Woody" Widrick
at the First Religious Society in Carlisle, Massachusetts
Sunday September 19th, 2004

Last week your minister gave a sermon on a subject bought at the Service Auction. Following his lead I begin today by fulfilling a request and telling you that probably one of the true bits of wisdom I have to share with you was taught to me by a professor at Andover Newton Theological School: Life is a process. You don't have happiness, you grow it and live it. And I could ramble on but won't.

Years ago we lived in a mill town in the western part of Massachusetts. The mills which had not closed before we moved there were in the process of closing after we got there. There was a stationery shop downtown, and in the back was a section opening onto a parking lot which was used as a bookstore. I like to hang around in bookstores and got to know the woman who ran that part of the business. One day we were chatting about I forget what and she told me about her aunt. When the aunt was young and fresh out of school she took a job in a local mill. As those things go, she caught the eye of the foreman on her shift, a man at least 10 years older than her. After a short but traditional courtship the couple were married. Several months later she showed up at her parent's home. I want to come home, she told her mother. You can't come home, her mother replied, you have a husband. Mama, he drinks, he hits me, he abuses the girls in the mill, he goes to the brothel. You will not leave him, you will not shame me in front of the priest and my neighbours, you will not leave your
husband, you made your bed now lie in it. They had one child, a girl, contemporary with my friend. About 20 years later the husband, health ruined by alcohol, died. After the funeral arrangements had been made the daughter was alone in the house
with her mother, and, passing her bedroom, heard her sobbing. She stepped into the room, put her arms around her mother and said, Don't cry for him, he was a beast, he mistreated you, he hurt you, he lied to youâ¤|. He is not worth crying for, you are better off without him. I know, the mother replied. I am not crying because he died, I am crying for what might have been.

My Grandmother Widrick stood four feet 11 inches when she wore heels. A Mennonite, I never remember her in anything but a dark dress ⤓long sleeves to the wrists, long skirt to the tops of her shoes ⤓ an apron, and a black head covering [what we called a bonnet] as befit a widow. My great grandfather, John Moser, had arrived in the United States in 1858, fleeing the mandatory military service in Alsace. My grandmother would tell of him, how he came here to build a farm on pretty miserable land in Northern New York, would walk seven miles to work in a lumber mill to get money to buy supplies for the winter, flour, sugar, coffee, warm clothing. Cleared land with an ax, plowed the rocky soil and labored until dark. But, she said, after telling about all these things, he would lean back in his chair and say It was for the wonderful freedom, The wonderful freedom.

In the history of America there has been the recurring theme of inclusion, expansion of freedoms, protection and extension of civil rights. When our nation was founded -- under the banner of : All men are created equal, Endowed with inalienable rights of life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness -- it was pretty obvious that slaves were not included as they were considered only 3/5ths of a person and property, women were not included being chattels of men, and the definition of "men" was basically understood to be property owners. But we struggled with the founding concepts and ended slavery and gave full citizenship to women, still struggle to achieve justice for native Americans,

In the history of Unitarianism we talk about the three recurring themes of Freedom, Reason, and Tolerance: Most notably after the 1500's when we became an organized movement, but also in the thinking and writing and actions of our spiritual ancestors. Freedom and tolerance meant not only wanting the right to worship and think as we must, but wanting other people to be able to do the same. The leader of the Transylvanian Unitarian thinkers in the 1500's engaged in a public debate with a representative of the Catholic church. Before the official part of the debate began the Catholic turned to David and said "When I win this debate you will burn at the stake." David replied "When I win the debate you will be free to go and worship as you please." David won according to the panel of judges. In more modern times it was considered wild radicalism and probably against the laws of God and nature in the middle 1800's when the Unitarians and the Universalists were among a few groups ordaining women as ministers. The Universalists preached the apokatastasis, a double barreled Greek word for the concept that at the end of time God will restore everything and everyone to a state of peace and happiness. Everyone ends up in Heaven [even, in some thinking, including all "sentient" beings ⤓ beings who breath air].This is pretty funky stuff for modern, well educated congregations, but in practice it meant that the Universalists, as the Unitarians, validated all religions, believed in the value of all people. In practical terms this led to such actions [among many others] as opening a college in Medford, Massachusetts, in 1852 with the unusual provision for those times that neither students nor faculty would have to swear to any religious creed or belief: now Tufts University.

We all have Personal hopes and dreams as those of the woman crying for what might have been, the happiness anticipated and denied to her and her daughter and her husband.. My great grandfather, with the dreams of religious and personal freedom common among persecuted minorities, wanting a place where he could work and worship, raise a family and be left in peace. The dreams and hopes of our spiritual ancestors seeking the freedom to think, the right to use reason, and the acceptance of the varieties of human beliefs and lives, the time when [to quote Julian of Norwich] "All will be well, all manner of thing will be well.". .

Perhaps the word is altruism. The lad Arthur in our reading cries not only for himself and what he wants, he cries for other people, mourning the dead, wanting good things for the living.. Emily Dickinson, in her delightful poem, depicts herself as shut out of heaven, and goes on to ask why? Did she sing too loudly. If she were the gatekeeper she would not shut out those who rejected her..

Altruism is caring about other people -- even strangers. It is the Christian principle [Luke 6:32] "If you love them which love you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners love those who love them." In the Christian Century for September 21, 2004, is a short article about saints and heroes. Heroes, we are told are the center of the stories about them, whereas saints are part of a larger story -- “ there are 64 references to saints in the Christian New Testament, always plural. Saints are saints in community. Altruism is the awareness that we are part of a community which reaches far beyond the borders of our house, our church, our social circle, our community, even our nation. There is an old hymn that consists of one line [Hymns for the Celebration of Life, # 151] that goes "We live not for ourselves alone, In others' good we find our own, Live's worth in Fellowship is known."

Or, as it has been put, the difference is to ask, "What is it like for them?" [New Yorker, Sept 13, 2004. p 94]. What is it like to be that person, to live that person's life, to have their joys and sorrows. Isn't that one of the reasons we light Candles of Community? We want to share with one another, to know the depths of one another. John Wesley [1703-1791], founder of the Methodist church, had a favorite question for clergy and lay people alike, "How is it with your soul?" Again, perhaps a bit funky for modern times, maybe we should try it, walk up to someone and ask "How is it with your soul? And see what kind of response you get. But still an important question to ask, not only of others but of ourselves. What happens in the depths of your being? And practically, when we deal with other people, "What is it like for them?" The question that encourages us to make buildings handicap accessible. The question that encourages people to work on Habitat for Humanity houses. The question that encourages people in the work of providing medical care and families for children ill or abandoned in distant places.

Altruism is what makes us refuse to believe that "Some animals are more equal than others" as George Orwell had the pigs proclaim in Animal Farm.

The question "What is it like for them?" is what helps open our hearts to other people.

And raises, at least for me, as a for instance, how terrible it is that politicians, to gain votes, are now, for the first time since our country came into existence, promising to change our Constitution to take away the civil rights of people. For 228 years we have struggled toward inclusivity, no denial of civil rights based on religion, race, ethnicity, gender. But we can get votes by promising to punish people for sexual orientation, so we promise. "That wonderful freedom," Is the promise, but we are now told that some people are more free than others.

Religion, our faith tradition, teaches us the oneness of all creation, and the value of all live and inclusivity. Giordano Bruno was burned at the stake in 1600 for heresy in Italy ⤓ his crime was to believe that the universe did not revolve around the human being, but that God poured through all things, of God he said, "If God is not the soul itself, / he is the soul OF THE SOUL of the world" [Heather McHugh, What He Thought (poem)].

We shed tears for ourselves and our lost dreams, but we need to know that everyone has dreams and hopes and fears and they deserve some of our tears. some of our tears need also to be for them. Our salvation lies in not being alone, in being in community with other people, in caring for them and having them care for us.



OPENING WORDS Words of Anne Frank from her Diary of a Young Girl:

How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a minute before starting to improve the world.



READINGS:

Crossley-Holland, Kevin: Arthur: King of the Middle March. [Vol. III of the Arthur trilogy]. London, Orion, 2003. Pp. 151-152.

A teenager named Arthur has left his home on the Welch border by Offa's Dyke, to accompany his lord as armies gathered from all over Europe for the Fourth Crusade. The Fourth Crusade was diverted from the journey to Palestine long enough to capture and sack Constantinople, the capitol of the Christian empire of Byzantium in 1204. Young Arthur is sleeping on the deck of a ship in the Mediterranean prior to the capture of Constantinople::

For a long time last night I lay on deck, under the main mast, swaddled in skins.

I stared at the glittering stars, so beautiful, so merciless, and thought how night swallows almost everything.

Then I thought of my own hopes and sorrows and how I used to write them down. . .
I want to please God. I want to be a knight of the heart, and I'm eager to enter Jerusalem, but sometimes I have nightmares. â¤|.I want to meet my poor mother. For Gatty I want all she's worthy of, and more. I want Bertie to live for years and years, and Simona's father to spit the ocean out of his blue mouth and come back to her. I want my father to praise me. I want him to die. I want Lord Stephen to know I know how well he has fathered me. I want to marry Winnie. And couldn't Serle marry Tanwen?â¤|.

Tears were streaming down my cheeks, hot and icy cold, and she was on her knees, bending over me, and for a moment I thought she was my mother.

⤘Arthur!' she whispered.

⤘It's nothing," I said, rubbing my eyes.

⤘Everything.'

⤘This cold! I makes my eyes weep and my nose run.'

Simona looked down at me. ⤘Sunt lacrimae rerum,' she said gravely.

⤘What's that?'

⤘The tears of things' said Simona. ⤘All human sorrows, all our longings. That's what you were weeping for'

Then Simona flopped down beside me. She wriggles under my sheepskin. We sleep like that.

Second Reading:

Why -- do they shut Me out of Heaven?

Did I sing -- too loud?

But -- I can say a little "Minor"

Timid as a Bird!



Wouldn't the Angels try me --

Just -- once -- more --

Just -- see -- if I troubled them --

But don't -- shut the door!



Oh, if I -- were the Gentleman

In the "White Robe" --

And they -- were the little Hand -- that knocked --

Could -- I -- forbid?

-------------Emily Dickinson