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Reflection, March 2002 (as
published in First Days Record)
By Jennie A. Barrington, Minister,
the Church of the Unity, Unitarian Universalist, Winchendon, MA
“Is the Answer Blowing in the Wind?”
Jennie A. Barrington
How does one speak with people about the Holy Spirit nowadays? Is it
even worth it to try? It’s not something one hears people talking
about, by that name, in UU churches, or even in many Christian
churches, or on the sidewalks, in coffee shops, or at parties.
Yet at the community vigil we held here, at the gazebo in the park, on
the Sunday evening after September 11th, a local folk singer led us in
singing “Blowin’ in the Wind.” Everyone knew all the
words. Hundreds of us sang that something restorative comes to the
broken places in the world, re-connecting us to a vision of a better
way, infusing us with a sense of encouragement, justice, compassion,
and beauty. Then it seems to move on. But we are left feeling that we
were, at least for a time, changed.
A few months ago, some UU Christians posed the question, “How are
we to tell what has been the movement of the Holy Spirit, versus, say,
just a really splendid moment?” They did not dwell on the
question, but I did. I recalled several experiences which might pass
such a test, then rejected all but three. We UUs don’t call it
the Holy Spirit, per se-- But we do sing, “Spirit of Life,”
currently one of our most popular hymns. We ask that the spirit of life
come to us, stir compassion in our hearts, give life the shape of
justice. Crowfoot posed the question:
“What is life? It is a flash of a firefly in the night. It is the
breath of a buffalo in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which
runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.” [Crowfoot,
last words, 1890]
No, we UUs don’t talk about the Holy Spirit by that name. But the
first of the three experiences I came up with is as resoundingly UU as
we get-- our General Assemblies. More than once, at each GA I’ve
attended, I have needed to speak with a particular person face-to-face,
that we might encourage and empower each other to keep pressing on with
our religious work. And, barely had the thought formed itself, then
there that person was, directly before me. Out of over four thousand
UUs, the minister, lay person, district executive, or youth appeared,
so we could connect in conversations which are still remarkable to me
today.
As Annie Dillard writes:
“The secret of seeing is, then, the pearl of great price…
But although the pearl may be found, it may not be sought. The
literature of illumination reveals this above all: although it comes to
those who wait for it, it is always, even to the most practiced and
adept, a gift and a total surprise… I cannot cause light, the
most I can do is try to put myself in the path of its beam. It is
possible, in deep space, to sail on solar wind. Light, be it particle
or wave, has force; you rig a giant sail and go. The secret of seeing
is to sail on solar wind. Hone and spread your spirit till you yourself
are a sail, whetted, translucent, broadside to the merest puff.”
[from Pilgrim at Tinker Creek]
That spirit which is holy takes us by surprise, and seems too fitting
to be mere coincidence.
The second type of experience which comes to mind is those meetings
-whether at church, in the community, or the workplace- in which people
become polarized around Yes-No, Is-Isn’t, Spend-Save, or
Right-Wrong, such that no workable solution seems possible. Then
someone unfreezes things by seeing and naming the way that we all, at
heart, want the same thing. I am proud of the times that someone has
been me. But isn’t it usually the youngest or newest person in
the group? She or he calls us back to the purpose and mission for which
we gathered in the first place.
That spirit which is holy breathes humility, charity, and forgiveness
into conflict situations, so we can creatively find alternative
solutions to disputes.
Thirdly and finally, I’m recalling an open air bluegrass
“pickin’ fest” last summer, when musicians from all
over New England gathered at a home in DownEast Maine, to play and sing
one weekend. New to that sort of thing, I watched and listened closely,
trying to learn how choices were made, how the event would proceed.
Several circles formed, of mostly performers, with some listeners. But
people weren’t just jumping in with whoever was loudest or
fastest on the uptake. There were pauses between the songs, in which
the veteran musicians were trying to discern something from beyond the
reach of our immediate senses. One or two might begin to pick or hum
softly, until a melody clearly emerged. At one point, a man began
playing so as to cut the pause off a bit short. But a woman, standing
with her guitar, newer at this but already looked to with respect,
said, “Wait-- We’ve got one coming up over here.” The
man stopped playing, and we all listened as the other musician’s
song rose from the circle, pure, true, providential.
That spirit which is holy is the beauty, order, and purpose in the
universe, the strains of which we can perceive, when we stop trying to
be sooner, louder, higher, smarter, and more virtuous than other people.
Some would call it the Tao, or “the way.” Tao literally
means "moving ahead," but is also referred to as the way of nature, the
way of ultimate reality, the way of the universe, or the way of human
life. The Tao is a force which flows, like a current or a river, and
which pre-existed chaos. Within the Taoist philosophy, no creator god
was necessary. The Tao is constantly trying to create harmony, balance,
and unity. It is that which is in nature and causes healing. The
ultimate goal of Taoism is to achieve oneness with the Tao and with
nature. As Chuang Tzu wrote, "Happiness is harmony with the
inevitable." Another way of describing the goal is the attempt to come
into a direct relationship with the real world. We do not need to
impose order on nature, but rather, conform to the pre-existing perfect
order. One way to do this is to go somewhere where human beings have no
influence, observe it, and let it teach you. Emerson and Thoreau
practiced this method. Just by living there, attuned to the weather and
seasons, Taoists believe, you will be patterned in a much healthier way.
Is there a divine force which flows through the world, righting the
wrong, almost imperceptibly? That belief is not for everyone, of
course. For some, “god” does not move, nor act to change
things, but simply is; more like the verb “to be” than
“to do.” A view of the divine as immutable and omnipresent,
rather than omnipotent, is comforting, reassuring, and strengthening to
many.
But if, for you, “god” moves, singing Bob Dylan’s
folk song or our hymn by Carolyn McDade is a good start, but only just.
If, to you, a divine spirit moves which can help and heal and
harmonize, then what is that spirit? And why is it holy, and not just a
random moment of earthly splendor? When we avoid that question, we
water down the sacred and make it mundane. Seeking that answer can move
us forward as religious people and as a religious movement.
In the words of Sara Moores Campbell:
“We receive fragments of holiness, glimpses of eternity, brief
moments of insight. Let us gather them up for the precious gifts that
they are and, renewed by their grace, move boldly into the
unknown.”
Is the Answer blowing in the wind? What makes it an Answer, among
answers? Ask the question. Go out into the open air at dusk. Wait.
Ponder the subtleties. Let me know.
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