A Sermon by the Rev. Daniel Charles Davis

for the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Winston-Salem, NC

February 26, 2006

In a recent column George Will commented on research that shows conservatives are happier than liberals. Mocking liberals, he writes:

But, then, conscientious liberals cannot enjoy automobiles because there is global warming to worry about, and the perils of corporate-driven consumerism, which is the handmaiden of bourgeoisie materialism. And high-powered cars (how many liberals drive Corvettes?) are metaphors (for America's reckless foreign policy, for machismo rampant, etc.). And then there is -- was -- all that rustic beauty paved over for highways. (And for those giant parking lots at exurban mega-churches. The less said about them, the better). And automobiles discourage the egalitarian enjoyment of mass transit. . . You see? Liberalism is a complicated and exacting, not to say grim and scolding, creed. And not one conducive to happiness. [1]

In a way, I agree with him. I would be happier if I did not worry about pollution, but I do enjoy breathing. I would be happier if the government were not selling the national forests, but I do enjoy trees. I would be happier if people were not dying in war, because I enjoy peace.

I would be happier if my tax money was going to help the sick and the poor, but instead it goes for war. I would be happier if I just did not care. I would be happier if I was selfish. I would be happier if I cared only about my child’s education and not about every child’s education. I would be happier if I just worried about myself. I would be happier if I could just pretend that the cheap things I buy from China were not made by oppressed workers. I would be happier if I just stopped paying attention.

I believe in the bumper sticker that says, “If you are not outraged, then you are not paying attention.”

I am outraged. They say that ignorance is bliss, but I feel ignorance is too high a price to pay for happiness.

So were does that leave me? It leaves me outraged. What do I do with my outrage? Well, sometimes I listen to music . . . Green Day, and System of a Down. This is loud music, angry music. It is politically aware. It lists the problems of the world. And these two groups use the f-word a lot, more than a minister – even a UU minister -- should hear. It feels good to get this angry. But it is a temporary high. When the music stops, I wake up with a hangover of concerns.

So I try to detach from my emotion. I seek understanding. I have heard that knowledge is power, so I listen to Public Radio. Perhaps I can listen to intellectual debate and develop wisdom, wisdom that will lead the way to a better day. But soon I am screaming at the radio, using the f-word more than a minister – even a UU minister – should..

Is it possible to be well-informed and hopeful? How can I reconcile my soul to the facts that my country has destroyed the infrastructure of Iraq and that many are still without electrical power or clean water? How can I reconcile my soul to the thousands that we have killed? How can I watch as the country dissolves into civil war? Do I have the right to turn away and pretend it is not happening. It feels hopeless. Both our continued presence or quick withdrawal could make things worse.

But at the same time I feel all my grief and anger is a waste of time. I lose energy by always venting. Yet if I deny my feelings, the pressure will build until I have a stroke. I cannot let rage and grief destroy me. Then I will not be able to be effective in bringing peace to the world. If I have no peace within myself, I will have no peace to share with others. I need to look for hope.

Preparing for this sermon, I thought of poetry. Poetry often takes me out of my worrying mind and into the subjective world of metaphor, where everything is possible. I typed the words peace poems into my search engine and found a site sponsored by the U.N.

Submissions were accepted from 16 September through 24 October 1997 in English, French, and Spanish. Submissions were limited to one per school and school level. Poems came in from 38 countries around the world.

http://www.un.org/Pubs/CyberSchoolBus/peaceday/poem.asp

Here are a few of the couplets and where they came from:

From peace we come and to peace we go,
meanwhile peace is something we don’t know.
            – Riversdale, South Africa

From my mother’s womb I came out yelling for life.
It’s great I am surviving—but there’s no peace.
            – Kampala, Uganda

I wish I could have stopped what caused the first human to be violent to another.
Then maybe the world would still be living in peace.
            – Khamis-Mushayt, Saudi Arabia

Peace without
Comes from peace within.
            – Brisbane, Queensland, Australia


Let it touch you, melt you and mould you.
            – Tema, Ghana

Peace is in the waves at sea.
Peace must begin with you and me!
            –Gander, Newfoundland, Canada

Increase peace;
let it be whispered into your ears.
            – Parainen, Finland

Open your hearts for the sake of peace.
Let’s make the world a better place for all of us
            – Rawalpindi Cantt, Pakistan

Peace is hope in your heart.
Peace is faith and not fear.
            – Rochester Hills, MI, U.S.A.

You are not alone; around you, there is peace.
All people in the world are your friends.
            – Beijing, China

Peace is working together,
a preparation for the future.
            – Virginia City, NV, U.S.A.

From children around the world we hear the words of hope. They inspire me to keep trying. I resonate with the child from Uganda who said, “From my mother’s womb I came out yelling for life. It’s great I am surviving – but there’s no peace.” Yelling for life. That is a place to start healing, recognizing the pain of existence, yet striving to persevere. So for me, listening to angry groups like Green Day is a place for me to start yelling for life. Earlier I sang their words: “My shadow's the only one that walks beside me . . .” [2]

All of us need some time to walk alone, to meet our shadow side, to confront our rage and despair. Some do it by taking a long walk, exercising their muscles, getting their hearts pumping, releasing the rage kinetically; some by praying, and I am not talking peaceful meditative prayer, not grace, not “now I lay me down to sleep,” but of lamentations like the tortured words of Jesus on the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mark 15:34); some with the cathartic release of music – loud, throbbing, overwhelming.

We need to find ways to confront and release our rage. When we confront our own rage and despair, we realize we are not so different from our enemies. But we cannot stay in our rage. We must trudge through it. We blast through the wall of rage, not for the sake of blasting, but to open a doorway to new possibilities, a place where we can “imagine all the people living life in peace.” [3] Perhaps, like the child from Michigan, we will realize that peace is hope in your heart; peace is faith, not fear.

If we have hope, we can reach out to each other. When I am down and troubled and I need a helping hand, I have found it in community. This fellowship, which I am supposed to minister to, has ministered to me. I offer you my thanks and gratitude. I step in here and I find hope for the world. Our children are being taught to hope. I sense a warmth among the adults when we share a potluck dinner. I see the beauty of the sacred space you have built.

We need each other, to share our joys and sorrows and work toward a world of hope.

We find that others have survived their private pain. We accept one another. We listen and learn from each other. We realize we are not alone.

Recently I stood at the site of a murder, doing a vigil for healing, singing about love in Spanish and English. The wind and the rain had blown out the candle I was holding, but there was warmth and light rising out of our shared pain, and afterwards a vat of coffee appeared. Mugs were dipped in and passed around. We reached for sweet bread that was broken for us. We smiled across the language barrier and knew that things could get better. We shared a communion of hope. We felt the truth of an unknown child in Beijing who said, “You are not alone; around you, there is peace. All people in the world are your friends.”

Human history is full of war. That cannot be changed. But each new day brings possibilities. We can either embrace hope for the future or be overwhelmed by the pain of the past. Each day we can be reborn yelling for life. Each day we can seek friendship. We can believe the child from Nevada who said, “Peace is working together, a preparation for the future.”

Not all of our efforts will be met with success. But let there be joy in trying, hope in relying on each other. Peace may be an imagined dream. But to let the dream die is suicide, not only for ourselves but for the world. We will never know peace unless we believe in peace, and work together to create peace.

I leave you with these words from an elementary school student from Taylorsville, Utah: “What is peace? The most beautiful thing the world can make. Is it true? We don’t know, but it’s a great thing to reach for.”

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1. George Will, “When it comes to happiness, conservatives win by a smile,” Feb. 23, 2006, Chicago Sun-Times.

2. Green Day, “Boulevard of Broken Dreams,” Copyright 2004.

3. John Lennon, “Imagine,” Copyright 1971.