“True belonging doesn’t require you to change who you are; it requires you to be who you are.” ― Brené Brown

This is one of the singular challenges and opportunities that in the end seems impossible for us to ignore: What does it mean for us to belong? The tricky part of this dilemma is that it does not get answered by armchair speculation, or philosophy, or by an answer passed to us by some tradition. The only true response to this question for each of us is our own unique daring risk: putting ourselves in a situation where that sense of belonging may be possible.

I was rereading Brian Friel’s play Faith Healer, about a man with an unusual yet unreliable gift: the gift to offer hands-on-healing. (We are hoping to produce this play at UUYO later this fall– stay tuned!) In one of the monologues a character describes the healing he witnesses and it goes against his commonly held assumptions. There is no shouting for joy, no dancing, no obvious celebration when the healing occurs. Instead there is silence and a feeling of contentment: a gentle homecoming, coming home to yourself.

I am thinking of this description as we approach our homecoming on September 11th in our sanctuary, as our Summer services end in Channing Hall. There is no need for us to extrovert ourselves unnecessarily or celebrate in a way that is prescribed and imagined. It is an invitation to be content with ourselves: our abilities as well as our failures, our humanity and divinity/mystery. We get a chance to rest in who we are, and allow a natural response to come from that place.

We have many upcoming opportunities for belonging in September, and I encourage you to go where you are led. There will be opportunities for celebration of the Fall Equinox with food, drink, and good company. There will be opportunities for learning, for worshiping, for discussing, and meditating. There will be opportunities to show up for our community, with the intention of peace, wholeness, and justice. One of the things I love about our church community is the numerous ways we get to belong. In September, join us, try it, take the risk that you may belong.

To Belong: A Poem

I hear the cicadas outside a door that I leave open

In late Summer

As I hear about the children who are already headed back to school

Seems early to me, but perhaps not too early

To Belong

I remember that feeling of leading up to the first day of school

Trapper keepers and supplies, a calculator, fresh sheets of lined paper

New clothes, or clothes that were worn

But new to me

A wondering about what the year may hold

Nervousness about meeting friends

How we might’ve changed

Nervousness about being a stranger

Mute in the roar of conversation I could not quite dive into

Waiting impatiently for just the right time to jump in

It took me years To belong

To approach the impatient waiting

With an openness that neither pushed nor demanded A response

But a feeling that this was enough This waiting too was enough

To belong