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REACH Fall 2001
CONTENTS
ADULT
CURRICULUM
LEADERSHIP
PARENTING
SOCIAL ACTION
TEACHING
WORSHIP
YOUNG ADULT
YOUTH
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MYSTERIES presented Saturday, September 30, 2000 at the Icaghowan Youth Conference in Amery, Wisconsin, by Rev. Victoria Safford NOTE: The setting for this service was a weekend youth conference, attended by 150 middle school and high school students from throughout the Prairie Star District. The presentation was about 75 minutes long. The charge from the Youth Committee was this: Our theme for the whole conference is "Mysteries" meaning mysteries of creation, but also secrecy, conspiracy, secret agent stuff, spying and government intrigues, etc. Please speak about mystery, and please do not be too boring. The worship space was a large common room at a wilderness conference center. As participants entered, they found a circle of unlit votive candles in front of the stone fireplace, where I was sitting. Ancient chants on tape were playing as prelude. It was 10:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning.
OPENING COMMENTS AND INTRODUCTION (10 minutes)
Everybody is wonderin' what and where they all came from.
Some say once gone you're gone forever and some say you're gonna come back.
I like to believe that we're like that, though historically we haven't been. Typically, and traditionally, we've been empirical, analytical, scientific, scholarly people constantly trying to figure things out, especially on the Unitarian side and the humanist side. Even a hundred years ago, Emerson called it "corpse cold," intellectual religion and he left the church. But I like to believe we're changing. I like to believe that that wonder (and its counterpart, terror) have found their way back among us. Yesterday I walked through one of the RE classrooms at the church I serve in Mahtomedi, Minnesota, to see what the first and second graders had written about God. And there in their slightly mysterious handwriting were posters with wild pictures, some very literal (kings and queens and trees), and others very abstract. Their writing made me catch my breath:
At dusk when the light seems to come through the clouds, that's God.
These are seven year-olds, little Buddhas, mini-mystics, and I thought, if we have to have sermons on Sunday, these are the people who probably should be preaching them. They know about mystery. Your theme is also about secrets, mysteries that wouldn't be mysteries unless someone wanted to keep them that way. I grew up during Watergate, the era of missing audiotapes and the secret bombing of Cambodia, the heyday of the FBI and its wiretapping of left wing activists and ordinary people, the outrage of Agent Orange (a terrible secret still unfolding) and Karen Silkwood and all those assassinations that many people still believe were directly, or indirectly, or somehow remotely connected to the government's intention. It was an age of deep suspicion and it bred terrible cynics, people who expect that their government will lie to them, spy on them, poison them, and regularly wreak havoc all over the world through clandestine murders, insurrections, and fake revolutions funded with our tax dollars. I grew up during Vietnam but came of age during Grenada, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Guatemala, Cuba, and all kinds of "mysterious" interventions. I came of age in a time of terrible and justified cynicism, an age of secrecy and covert operations, and often I regret this. I want to be a mother who can smile at her six-year-old so proud to recite the Pledge of Allegiance, and not be totally conflicted every time the child says it with her little hand over her heart. But sometimes this sensitivity to intrigue, this alertness to the possibility of top-secret goings on, can serve me well. This week I was part of a citizens' panel called the Interfaith Alliance (we monitor activities of the Religious Right) and a parent from a nearby high school came to see us for advice. His daughter had come home from a pep rally at which a group called POWERHOUSE MINISTRIES had been the entertainment. They'd been hired by the principal, who claims not to have realized that they are a militantly evangelical Christian group. Throughout their performance at the rally, with 2,000 high school students in the audience, they began making all kinds of subtle inferences, bending metal rods into the shape of a fish or a cross, and inciting the crowd to frenzied cheering about Jesus. And then all of a sudden, they stopped their music and launched into an impassioned, homophobic diatribe, a vicious message of hatred and bigotry -- very ugly, very dangerous, very scary. The crowd went wild and seemed to love it, but we know that there were people there, students and teachers and staff, who were terrified and outraged. The man's daughter said the event was videotaped -- she saw the students taping it and heard that teachers viewed the tape the next day. But when her father called the principal to ask for a copy, the principal denied that any tape existed. And well he should -- because in hiring this group, he certainly broke trust at his school, and there's good reason to believe he also broke the law. So our panel encouraged this father: Explore the mystery. Crack it open. Shine some light in there. But the real mystery is not whether this tape exists or not, or whether the principal knew what we think he knew or not -- the real mystery is where hate comes from, what section of the soul it breeds in. The real mystery is where courage comes from : the courage of that girl who told her father, and the courage of the father who told us, "I'm not anti-Christian. I go to the Lutheran Church. But I can't live with a school that breaks the human rights and human spirits of its students." The mystery is, where do such bravery and imagination come from, what section of the soul? These are questions for you to keep in mind now as I tell a story. In a moment I'd like to ask you to break into small groups to do some conjuring together, and then I'll invite you back to this large circle. But first the story.
SETTING THE STORY: THE ICE MAN OF TYROL
At the time of his discovery, there was great confusion about whether he was found actually in Italy or Austria, and he was shipped back and forth several times by angry and possessive scientists. But now he has been pronounced Italian, and this week [early September 1999] they began thawing him. Researchers intend to study a fungus in his lungs, explore bone samples, put an endoscope into his intestines to find out what he ate in his last days, and take a look at his DNA." I want to play this story out a little more. Suspend what you think you know is true, especially those of you who are scientifically oriented, and imagine with me if you can, that in the course of all this defrosting this week, not only the intestines and lung tissue of the Ice Man softened up, but much to the shock and horror of the scientists in Italy, his brain and heart were found to be not frozen, but functioning. Imagine with me that in that laboratory they have discovered that the Ice Man was not dead, but sleeping all this time, 5,300 years. Eight scientists are in the room, taking notes, observing, when suddenly the silence is shattered by a strange, thin groan. Eight women and men are witnesses as he slowly turns his head, opens his eyes. Now, I want you to tell the story of what happens next.
WORK IN SMALL GROUPS ON TWELVE QUESTIONS (20 minutes)
QUESTIONS FOR SMALL GROUPS
CONTINUING THE STORY (20 minutes)
CLOSING WORDS (5 minutes)
In closing, I read Mary Oliver's poem, "The Summer Day." |
Page last updated December 14, 2001
All material copyright © 2001 Unitarian Universalist Association