Rev. Joseph Boyd I’ve been thinking about how every day is an opportunity for a new beginning – a chance to start over, rediscover our starting point, and recommit ourselves to what matters most to us. I think this moment is that opportunity. I’m so proud of our board of trustees, Covid-19 committee, and all the people behind the scenes who are helping navigate this community through trying times with a sense of purpose, and yes joy. It is a joy to be with you this morning, and together in our coming together like this, we show that love is a present possibility. I feel so fortunate to be with you live from the Northside of Youngstown on Elm Street, home to Rodef Sholom, a Reform Synagogue, Neville’s Temple, and all the people who come to enjoy the beautiful Wick Park neighborhood right across from our church. You and I are in a wondrous moment in history. The present moment we are in is not just the present – this moment holds the entirety of the past, the entirety of the future, and a present that is ungraspable, and so thus cannot adequately be understood.
We are living and breathing in this moment the beginning of a universe we did not create, and yet are tied to inextricably, bound to us, like a mother to a child. We are so close to one another, so close in fact, that we cannot even adequately fathom it. Our bodies who breathe of their own accord, the breath of the ages, the breath of the future, the breath of this moment. We are partakers in that great legacy, and we each get to decide what will be our response to that great majesty.
We are connected to our neighbors in a way that is beyond present concerns, and yet is bound up in and impacted by present concern. We are worried for our world – in the United States, in Afghanistan, in every land at this present moment that has a human population. We are worried about the threats to health and well-being, and many of us are feeling we no longer have a clear vision for the future. But the truth is, the future is now, in this moment.
So how will you care for the future at this moment? How will you respond to the awesomeness of that proposition? How will I respond, and how will we live for what is noble, rather than what is simply convenient?
I’m proud of our church leadership for keeping the greatest value at the forefront of all our policy decisions: ahimsa. Living in such a way that we create the least amount of harm we can, while finding ways to manifest and express our great fortune at being alive at this moment. That’s the moment we are in: a moment of great fortune, a moment worthy of celebration. You might rightly ask: Why celebrate now? Numbers of Covid-19 cases are rising across the nation, there is violence on every corner of the globe, much of which our country is responsibility for, and the future seems precarious for even the most fortunate. Why celebrate?
The answer is simple. We celebrate because we’re still here, and to lose a sense of joy and celebration is to diminish what it means to be human not just for this generation but for the future. We don’t celebrate because things will work out the way we want, or the way we hope. We celebrate because we’re here, because the earth is looking for a human response to the catastrophe we are in, and celebration of what is noble, good, and worth preserving is at the very heart of our life.
There are many things that will rent real estate in our heads, and can muddle and confuse our intentions. We can so easily get caught up in dire predictions, opinions that are learned and savvy, but lack true vision for the future of our species. We are learning a great and powerful lesson that has been a long time coming: we belong to the earth and we belong to each other. Ideas of ownership that dominate our economy and dominate our thinking, are becoming outdated, passé, the mind of a dying era. To think that we own our life, that it is ours, like a possession that we need to keep safe is to limit the potential of our life.
To see all of this happening simultaneously in this moment – you, me, and everyone – that is our life, and that is a life without borders, without hindrance, and beyond concepts of ownership. We are in it, of it, created by it, and creating out of this moment. We are the inheritors of ideas that are looking for a process of transformation, so that we might face our present crisis with an expansion of who we think we are, rather than a diminishment.
At the core of this expansion, is the commitment to value all human life, including our own as inherently worthwhile. In a capitalist system like ours, you might ask: What is it worth? Beyond any concept we have, is the answer. There is no limit to what our life is worth – your life and mine. Your life is precious not because it’s yours, but because you belong to something that is beyond comprehension: the entire past, the entire future, this expansive moment.
Your life is part of every body that has inhaled and exhaled, and you are part of every plant, animal, and sunset. Each new horizon in the sky is only a fraction of the greatness of your horizon. Each new sky is completely your sky, and the sky for all peoples. Do you now see how the only response to this magnificence is joy, celebration, and hope?
We hope not for what we want to happen, but for what has already happened and is happening this very moment through your life and mine. We include all creatures here in this space with us, virtually, in person and beyond. We record our greatest intentions this morning for our lives and for posterity, because my concern is not the end of our species. My concern is the survival of our species who have lost heart, vision, and daring. My concern is a human who no longer wonders at their existence, who fails to see how intimate their life is with everything that is alive. My concern is a flattening of the human spirit that supposes they know who they are and what the world is. And this is believed without any irony, humor, or wonder.
When we truly listen, we let the world tell us what it is, rather than suppose we know. And if we listen close enough, we are guaranteed to be disturbed. And if we listen closer still, we will discover a space at the heart of that disturbance, a space that opens awaiting our response, even if we think we are the only ones who will notice the response.
Letting ourselves be seen by each other, actually noticing each other, being felt by the presence of another: don’t underestimate this great power during this time. Showing up and being present to the world and each other as we are, with the intention to not cause more harm: this may be our greatest power, and our greatest joy. We get to witness each other live, struggle, and triumph. We get to witness our comings and goings, we get to witness passing away, and the memory that reminds us of eternity’s possibility.
It is an amazing grace to be present, witnessing each other with intention, at this very moment. It is amazing grace to be saved when we are certain of damnation, to find new joy and new life when we are convinced of despair and misery. It is an amazing grace to get the opportunity to have a new beginning, and for that new beginning to start with us.
How will you respond to this new beginning? The entirety of the past is here, and so is the future. We get to see what is possible today. We get to notice and sense what may be possible for us on this today: what may be our contribution to the order of things. Contribution is not a mere duty, a responsibility, something that is forced on us by our own conscience or by external forces. A contribution is the highest form of celebration; it is the greatest symbol that we have survived defeat. A contribution reminds us that we are still human, and to be human is to be beyond humanness, it is to be a creature, it is to be this soil, it to belong to the history and the destiny of this place.
We celebrate the opportunity to be together any way we can, knowing deep in our hearts, that nothing can bring us apart. We are bound together by a fire of commitment to love and serve every creature great and small on this beautiful blue planet, and perhaps beyond. We are here as representatives, as reminders, that each of us gets a new beginning. You don’t need to be good to get a new beginning. You don’t need to be without fault. You don’t need to be righteous to get a new beginning. You get a new beginning simply because you’re alive on this day: you didn’t earn it, you probably didn’t ask for it, and it is your right to try to ignore it. But this new beginning has a power that endures, reminding you with every breath you take, until the moment you can accept it.
I think the prospect of being outside has reminded me of religious revivals, and I think we are overdue for a revival of the human spirit and consciousness.
It is time we revive what we believed to be dead, and to walk not just as automatons with intravenous commentary, but human beings with majesty beyond full reasoning and comprehension. It is time we return to what is fundamental, that which is noble, that which is good, that which is non-violent.
Doing our part to end what is oppressive, and reminding each other of the prospect of celebration: that is the mission of our church. Doing our part to end systemic violence: racism, bigotry, and limited thinking based on outmoded ways of being. Doing what we can to share our humanity with the broken, with the broken hearted, with those who receive the brunt of our delusion of separateness. Doing what we can to act boldly with humility, willing to be corrected, willing to learn, willing to grow. Doing what we can to not just resist, but create: to create shelters for the spirit, to not lose sight of the music and joy at the heart of creation, the heart of you and me. That is our church’s mission, and I have a newsflash: the church doesn’t exist.
You are the church. You are the ones who are living this new way with passion, commitment, and joy of relationship. This is not a heavy task for one person. This is not a heroic path. This is the path for a normal human being at every stage of life, including elders, who are guiding us with commitment into a new age. You are the ones who make sure that no creature is left out of the amazing grace of this day, a day of new beginning.
As we depart from here, and go back into our lives, take a breath for all the creatures of this earth. Just one breath, wishing peace and no harm to any creature. Take one breath in gratitude for the opportunity to live on this day, and make a contribution. This contribution should not be heroic, it should be human, a human size contribution. We are in this together, every person worshipping virtually and in person on Elm Street, every person living their life, doing what they need to do on this day. We are alive for the sake of tomorrow and for the sake of the past, and both need to be told that there is a new beginning.
We are beginning to become more human. We are beginning to become more vulnerable to our relationship with the earth and with all creatures: birds, plants, and fellow humans. We are beginning to feel the weight of compassion, and we are beginning to feel the freedom that comes in being able to make a contribution. We are beginning to notice new horizons, and the sky that has been there all along keeping us company without our awareness. We are beginning to notice all who are keeping us company on this day, and the awareness of that company, of this community, is beginning to transform us into who we’ve always been: a fellow creature that is vulnerable to violence, vulnerable to disease, and vulnerable to death. And instead of that vulnerability shrinking us, through the love of a community like this, that vulnerability is expanding us into who we are, and who we might be.
