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Service - Rev. Kenneth Collier
Prelude
Pity Me On My Pilgrimage to Loch Derg
from Hermit Songs – Samuel Barber
Kathryn Palmentier, soprano
Chalice Lighting
Kenneth Collier
The symbol is the same:
Chalice, grail, and cup;
Cauldron and cave.
It begins in darkness.
Empty. Alone. Forgotten. Forsaken.
"Alone with the beating of my heart."
And behold, the darkness conceives;
The darkness nurtures and gives birth.
A light appears in the darkness.
The chalice, like a great egg,
Opens and the light goes forth
Into the world. Chalice and flame
Flowing together in the great circle
Of time and life and eternity.
Bell Ringing
Kenneth Collier
We begin in the cave, in the darkness.
We live our lives like a great circle
And return to the cave and the darkness
Embraces our souls like a Great Mother.
Hymn
Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child
No. 97
First Reflection
The Meaning of Tenebrae for a Non-Christian
Kathryn Palmentier
Tenebrae is the commemoration of the day of Christ's death. This comes at
the
end of Holy Week, the week leading up to the definitive event of Christian
belief: the death and ressurection of Jesus at Easter. Why do I want to
participate in this service, when I can clearly say I am not a Christian?
I
am not a religious Christian, but I feel I am a cultural Christian. We live
in a culture that is closely tied to European history and traditions. Art,
music, and literature all reflect the dominance of Christanity and can't be
understood without some familiarity with the scriptures and the religious
themes.
As a singer, I am an acknowledged glutton. I want to sing ALL the good
music, but I have always been especially satisfied by sacred music. I am
deeply touched by the Mass settings of Mozart or Josquin and the Passions
and
cantatas of Bach, and I can't simply ignore the texts or purpose for which
they were written. I have had to find a respectful way to acknowledge and
participate in this religious expression without feeling literal
identification with it. I look for and try to touch the universal human
experience. To be inspired by the composer's inspiration. To be aware of
the core feelings, core values and core situations or relationships
expressed.
I was raised in a Unitarian family. I stopped attending while I was in
college and came only sporatically for more than 20 years. I rejoined this
congregation about 4 years ago. I have experienced the sense of alienation
from the church, which is part of the story of Jesus's life. He wanted a
spiritual renewal in Jewish religious practice and objected to rituals which
had lost their personal connection and had become almost commercial
enterprises for the temple. I became angry at many of the services I
attended and felt alienated by the hyper-rational humanism which avoided and
neglected the poetry and music which I find is a powerful part of my
religious expression.
Tenebrae was celebrated in the church of my childhood, First Unitarian
Church, Chicago. During the service the church was slowly darkened and
remained completely and profoundly dark for several minutes at the climax
of
the service. I remember being deeply moved by this service and have felt
since that time that UU sevices that avoid addressing spiritual death and
resurrection are missing something important.
Traditional Christian churches use this time of the year to bring the
experience of loss, of grief, of despair, into worship. Sacred texts that
particularly address mourning are given special emphasis. The church building
itself is stripped of color and decoration. Everything is prepared to help
the church members remember their own losses, acknowledge them, mourn them,
and then, let them go, so that healing, recovery, and return to joyous life
is possible. This period of Lent makes the joyous celebration of Easter more
meaningful by re-enacting the spiritual and emotional journey from hurt to
healing, from dark to light, from death to re-birth.
The means of touching these experiences is through story, specifically,
the
story of the last week of Jesus's life, when he came to Jerusalem with his
followers for Passover, was killed by Romans, and reported to be seen alive
and well three days later, the tomb found empty. This story is often labeld
"the Passion of Christ". The word "passion" is used with
its ancient meaning
of "suffering", thus, "The suffering of Christ".
Tonight, we gather to hear the story of Jesus's last days. To touch the
experience in music, readings, and candle light. To reach into the dark
places of our own souls, when we have betrayed another for payoff that proved
worthless, like Judas. When we have failed to act with courage and
commitment, like Peter. When our commitment seems to bring us only betrayal
and even death, as it did Jesus. When we have come to church to reaffirm our
community of faith, and we find ourselves alienated by what we find here.
When we feel that proclamations of Joy, Peace, Tolerance, and Love are empty
words of hypocrasy. When we feel that there is no place for that which we
hold dear. When we feel that UUs are too busy feeling superior to
Fundamentalists, Evangelicals, Republicans, to recognize the failings and
weaknesses of our own attitudes and actions.
Tonight, in this place, I will silently remember my failings, and try to
forgive myself. I will remember those who have failed me, and try to forgive
them, recognizing our common humanity. I will mourn my losses: lost dreams,
lost oppportunities, lost relationships. I will gather strength to begin
again. I will remember the times when I HAVE acted with integrity and
purpose. I will remember the times when I have reached out with compassion
and love. I will celebrate my passage from dark times to renewal, love, and
light. And I will remember that I have not made that journey alone. I have
been sustained by friends, old and new, who have given me the gift of
acceptance and love.
Reading
The Passion of Christ Compiled from the Gospels
by Kenneth Collier
Now, after Jesus was betrayed by Judas and arrested, he was taken to the
Sanhedrin to be examined, and Peter, one of his disciples, followed along
behind. Peter waited outside and went to the fire the servants had built to
warm themselves. As the servants were gathered and talking about the events
of the evening, one of them recognized Peter and said, "Surely you know
this
man, for I have seen you with him." Peter responded that he had never
met
Jesus. And a little later, another servant said, "Aren't you one of his
people? Haven't I seen you listening to him teaching?" And Peter began
to
get afraid and angry and said again that he did not know him. And then yet
another said, "But you're a Galilean. I know I've seen you among his
followers." And with an oath, Peter swore that he did not know Jesus.
Immediately, the cock crowed, and Peter was ashamed.
Meanwhile, the Sanhedrin examined Jesus to catch him in heresy. Many came
and testified against him, but Jesus simply maintained his silence. Finally,
they decided to hand Jesus over to Pilate, the Roman Governor, claiming that
he was guilty of sedition against Rome. But even Pilate could find no guilt
in him. Yet, for political reasons and because he really didn't care one way
or another, Pilate handed him over to the soldiers to be crucified.
Following the usual procedure, the soldiers, stripped Jesus and beat him
severely and forced him to carry the cross up the hill where crucifixions
were held, called "Golgotha" in Aramaic and "Calvary"
in Latin. On the way,
someone forced a crown woven of thorns onto his head and all mocked him and
even spit on him. But those who were his followers, followed along behind,
quietly and afraid. When they reached the hill, the soldiers bound him to
the cross and left him to die, naked, bleeding, and in disgrace. And still
his followers watched, quietly.
While hanging on the cross and dying, Jesus quoted the scriptures, the
Psalms. First he said, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"
which is
the beginning of a Psalm that opens with despair and ends with praise of God.
And just before he died, he said, "Into your hands, I commit my spirit,"
a
Psalm that opens with a plea for help and ends with the words "Be strong,
let
your heart be bold, all you who hope in God." And then he died. One of
the
Roman soldiers who was there and had watched him and listened to him
teaching, remarked with sadness that he was truly a good man.
Among Jesus' followers was a wealthy man named Joseph from the town of
Arimathea. Joseph went to Pilate and asked for Jesus' body that he might
bury it. Pilate agreed, and the body was taken down and turned over to
Jesus' followers. They prepared it as well they had time, wrapped it in a
fresh shroud, and laid it in Joseph's tomb. And then they sealed the tomb
with a huge stone and went away to mourn.
Music
Crucifixion
Samuel Barber
from Hermit Songs Kathryn Lewis, soprano
Second Reflection
Thoughts from the Cave
Kenneth Collier
We all find ourselves in the cave from time to time, and the climb out often
requires of us that we give something up, change, become something new. It's
not easy. Dreams often have to be let go of. Hopes, effort, money. One's
whole projection of oneself into the future sometimes has to be transformed.
Relationships sometimes have to end or be radically re-made. You often
loose track of people whom you have loved. And sometimes your understanding
of who you are, what the existentialists call your life project, has to be
reconstructed. Hard, painful work. Work that can feel like a kind of death,
a kind of being sealed in a stone tomb.
It's not always this hard. There are certainly levels of the cave, and to
be sure some are deeper than others. But we all know one level or another.
The myth of death and resurrection is about being in the cave and climbing
out again. Tonight we remember the death. Sunday we will celebrate the
resurrection.
At the moment, my life is not in this kind of place, but I remember my
cave-times quite well. Let me share one of the deeper ones with you.
Counting kindergarten, I spent 21 years of my life preparing for a career
in
Academia. I worked my way through a PhD dissertation on a very esoteric
topic, using a logical system that was new, highly controversial, and filled
with difficulties. I found a tenure track position in the Humanities, was
offered, and accepted the position two days before there was a hiring freeze
at the university. And then, in 1971, there I was: Instructor, in a few
months to become Assistant Professor, in the Philosophy Department at
Southern Illinois University at Edwardsville. 21 yers of work had come to
fruition, and everything should have been as I wanted. But it wasn't.
Even though I had spent all those years as a student, I soon discovered
that
Academe was not what I expected. Why not? It was certainly intellectually
stimulating. Working with students was fun, and I was a good teacher. But.
There was campus politics. I know, there's politics everywhere, but
academic politics is of a particularly vicious nature-or at least it seemed
so to me. And there was the drudgery of it all. Now, if you ever find a job
that has no drudgery, I'll take it. But, for example, to read students'
papers-25 mostly poorly written papers on the same topic-was true drudgery.
But none of this was really it. This is really minor and could be put up
with if there was enough love for the work. And that was the problem. I did
not love the work enough. You might have thought that I would have figured
that out in 21 years of preparation, but I didn't. There was something about
the disciple of Academia that felt all wrong to me. I was OK when I was a
student, but when I became faculty, I just couldn't pretend any more. I had
all the credentials of a scholar. I could even maintain the facade of a
scholar, spending the rest of my life doing, at best, mediocre, peripheral
work. But deep inside my heart I knew that I was-and am-not a scholar. I
would never be able to live up to my own standards of scholarship. The
facade had no building, no foundation, behind it, and I was living a life
that was very much less than authentic. A lie? Well, in a word, yes.
And so there I was, in the cave, in the dark, alone and lonely. The
existentialists call it alienation. I thrashed around a lot during the final
three years of my life as an academic. I knew that I could not, with any
degree of integrity, continue living this life. But I did not know what else
to do. And so I did the only thing I could do: I hung out in the cave until
the light was kindled. Eventually it was, and I realized the truth: I am
not a scholar; I am a minister. That started a new life project, a new
pilgrammage, a new journey-the metaphors are rife. And here I am.
I do not want to pretend that the journey out has always been easy or
without its own anguish and occasional slides back into the cave. But I have
never once regretted this transformation. "A journey of a thousand li
begins
with a single step," says Lao Tsu, and the single step that began this
journey was my application to Starr King in 1976. Tonight, though, I don't
want to concentrate on the journey out. Tonight I want to concentrate on the
time in the cave, the dark time, the time of waiting and dormancy. The seed
waiting in the Earth through the cold winter rain.
Usually our instinct is to run from the cave, to run as fast our feet can
carry us. This evening, the message is that the cave is necessary and that
as difficult and painful as it may be at the time, it is OK to be in the cave
and to be depressed, alienated, in grief, or whatever other version of
darkness you may experience. Wherever you are, wherever you may have been,
wherever you may be in the future, it is all right. It is all right to let
the darkness transform you and make you new once again. We are not called
upon to be perfect; we are only called upon to be human. And that is enough.
Meditation
Kenneth Collier
And so here I am.
Again. I have been here before.
Alone in the darkness.
Waiting. I have waited before.
Alone and shivering
In the damp darkness.
The seed disappears into the Earth
And lies in the hard ground
As the cold rain falls.
Hymn
O Sacred Head Now Wounded
No. 265
Candle Lighting
The Congregation*
Music
Pie Jesu from Requiem, op. 48
Gabriel Faure
Kathryn Lewis, soprano
Responsive Reading
Rolling the Stone Away
No. 628
Closing Hymn
Find a Stillness
No. 352
Closing Words
*Members of the Congregation are invited to come forward and light a candle, either in silence or with words.
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