I will let you in on a (not-so-secret) secret.

Unitarian Universalists are not the only folk who hold pluralistic and non-conforming beliefs!  For some of us, this is not news.  But for myself, around the year 2007 living in Missouri, it was a great surprise to meet a Christian who was becoming a minister and didn’t believe hell existed.  He even said most of his friends who were becoming Christian ministers also didn’t believe in hell.  My mind was blown.

Around the same time, I was speaking with a teaching colleague (I was still an elementary school teacher at this time) who talked about her attendance at a Christian church, but privately to me also said she was completely an atheist.  However, she had developed such deep community at her Christian church, it felt like home, even if her theology did not actually match the congregation.

For some of you this may be news.  For others, you already know this lived theological pluralism and expansiveness to be all around us throughout life.

Now, pluralism is an important aspect of Unitarian Universalism.  It’s found in the principles and sources which make up the current article 2 of the UUA bylaws, and it’s also found in the proposed article 2 revision.  It’s an important aspect of many popular readings and sayings that come up in our tradition.  But I would argue that just having pluralism is not something that makes Unitarian Universalism unique or noteworthy.

So, I was taken by surprise by the eclipse. I wasn’t surprised it was happening of course. So many people were talking about it! It was a source of constant conversation. But I was surprised how awestruck I was by the event.

Even without looking directly at the eclipse (as I had no eclipse glasses), it was fascinating to notice how everything around me looked the same, yet different in a way that was hard to describe. In one way, it looked like a normal sunny day, but in another, the light kept decreasing and dimming.

What increased my awe was contemplating on the series of effects that had to come together for the eclipse to happen. After all, there are so few times that the orbital paths of the moon and the earth come together in the correct placement to make an eclipse possible. But I realized part of what made this event seem so awe-inspiring to me is that I could more simply see and grasp the interdependent events that had to come together to make the eclipse happen. It’s just two orbital paths interacting in a predictable, though uncommon, way. Predictable enough that scientists can…well, predict it in advance! I wonder if the predictability and simplicity made it easier for me to appreciate because it was easier to contemplate the interdependent steps to make the event occur.

What becomes even more awe inspiring though, is realizing how interdependent everything is around us. Every natural event is a product of many smaller aspects coming together over time. (And truly, the eclipse is not so simple! What were the exact minute details that had to come together to create the Earth and the moon? What small factors caused their orbits to be what they are?)

In coming together as community, we also have awe-inspiring events. For instance, what are the small events that lead to your friendship with someone else? What events had to come together for you to relate to and care for this person you are in relationship with? You could consider events that caused you to meet, events from the time you both were born, or even events that led to their birth. Any and all of these might be important!

In September of 2020, my mother’s chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) had worsened to the point that it was suggested she enter hospice care. She was living in Missouri in the home she had lived in for 38 years. I was living in California and working as a hospice chaplain. The next day, she had a fall at home. The hospice told me it was important to get there quickly and help make some choices. While the fall was not as bad as they had anticipated, they were right. My mother was entering a new stage of her disease and needed my support as she did. Over the course of the next month, she would decline quickly, entering an assisted living and after a couple of weeks going into a deep sleep followed by her eventual passing.

I remember in the beginning of that process (and really at so many points throughout) thinking “This is too much. What next?” For as you know, we were in the middle of isolating due to COVID-19. I was hopping on a plane and flying halfway across the country to figure out something I had never had to do before.

I think back to that time and realize a large part of what got me through was my spiritual community. I remember reaching out to a friend of mine who was also a hospice chaplain who gave me words of friendship, and also words of soothing. I checked in with the ministers I had connected with to wrestle with the meaning of everything challenging that was colliding at that time. And I remember the group chat I had with some of my Unitarian Universalist minister friends. Some days we were struggling with isolation. Some days we were talking about the health care challenges with my mother and our other family members. Some days we shared pictures of the orange sky due to the fires in California. We held those challenges together, the sorrow, the pain. But some days, we would get on a voice chat and, from our separate houses play a rousing game of Mario Kart, water flowers on each other’s Animal Crossing islands, or even get on a video chat and try to put together the most ridiculous outfits we could find.

One of the places where community is most important is in the midst of the challenge regardless of if that struggle is personal, systemic, or even a large-scale crisis. Sometimes that is in holding the sorrow and remembering that we are not alone. Sometimes it is in the lamentation. And sometimes it is in the rich ground of resilience that we water with our joy and gratitude. While I hope that ERUUF is a place you come with your celebration, robust and lively, I hope that we also can be a place for soothing and comfort in the midst of times of challenge. And that as you are here for some time, you become part of that network of love that can both support and be supported by others as you need and as you can offer.

For more information on community and support opportunities:

This past Sunday, my sermon was on how building deep relationships might help us create a world that works for everyone.  There was one part I did not get to in that sermon.  I would love to share it with you here.

A few years ago, I started hearing the phrase “cultural humility” especially in relationship to the term “cultural competency”.  For those unfamiliar with these terms, I’ll offer my own understanding of them.  Cultural competency is the idea that we should understand someone else’s culture so that we might interact with them respectfully.  Cultural humility is realizing that we don’t know everything about someone else’s culture and experience, we are open to listening and understanding, and we work to be aware of our own experience and bias so we might better understand what are the experiences and stories we don’t understand.

Cultural competency is not a bad thing.  At it’s best, it can be the attempt to make a space more welcoming for people by understanding their experiences and practices.  But, cultural competency can also give the illusion that we have figured everything out and no longer need to learn beyond the experiences we currently understand.

I know that I do not know everything about anything!

To me, cultural humility is necessary if our aim is to build relationships and community.  We need to be ready to listen and learn about a person’s experiences while building relationships and communities.  We need to be open to understanding and know that we will find opportunities to grow.  In my opinion, cultural humility helps us remember that a person has identities that may impact how they experience life while also being an individual human being with their own opinions, thoughts, and feelings.

Grief can move in unexpected ways, often rising up seemingly out of nowhere, reminding us of pain and loss. However, even while being unpredictable and individual, one aspect of the grief experience that is more common than not is the challenge of anniversaries.  These might be the anniversary of the day of death, birthdays, marriage, or any event that was significant in your life.  These days can often bring back feelings we thought we had worked through, as we are reminded of an event that connects to our loss.

I post about grief and anniversaries this month because we are currently in the season of the year that contains extra anniversaries.  In the months from November through February, there are many holidays.  Those holidays may be times that you gathered with cherished family or spent time with a beloved who is no longer in your life.  That loss may be due to death, but it may also be because of separation, divorce, or anything that has changed the structure of your life.  Additionally, these are often the coldest and darkest months of the year which for some will exacerbate these challenging feelings.

What to do if you are feeling these challenges?

First of all, honor that this is an experience you are having.  If you are feeling grief, there is a reason why.  While the feelings may be uncomfortable or undesirable, it can be good to let yourself feel them.  For some, it can be helpful to have a therapist or mental health professional on that journey with us.  And if something comes up that you weren’t expecting, you can reach out to our ministry team at or check in with volunteers at the Pastoral Care table after service who can provide a listening ear or help connect you with someone who can.

Second, do things that are supportive and good for your emotional health.  Give yourself lots of compassion.  You may find that you can’t follow through on how you usually engage a holiday.  That’s okay.  It’s good to not avoid or cancel the holiday, but you may want to see if you can find a different way to engage it.  Be realistic about what you can do.  If your body has been still for a long time, take a walk or do something physical to shift your energy in a different way.  Avoid relying on chemicals such as alcohol to circumvent or numb pain as they can often have complicating side effects that can make grief feel worse.  And connect with others who love and care about you as much as you can.  Spend time in supportive environments whenever possible. If you need a place to be, our Sunday services, Jazz Vespers, and Winter Solstice Gathering are all opportunities to be present with others.

Have you seen those mini-libraries on the side of the road? They often have books in them and the concept is that you can take a book if one looks good, but also you can leave a book if you have one to donate.

I sometimes think of generosity the same way. Especially when I give something of myself and someone responds "I owe you one" or "I'll pay you back soon." I figure I did something generous for that person and there's no expectation that they reciprocate to me personally. But, I do have the hope that at some moment, when that person has a chance to be generous and they can do so, they take that chance. It's like the mini-libraries: when you need generosity, accept it. When you have a chance to offer generosity and you can do so, do it.

The difference between the mini-book library and the giving of our generosity is relationship. When we place a book into a mini library, we put whatever we have to give hoping that someone will find it useful. When we offer generosity as opportunities arrive, we have the chance to more deeply understand what someone actually needs and make an offer of support based in that need. This is sometimes called the “Platinum Rule” as opposed to the “Golden Rule”: instead of “treat others as you’d like to be treated” it’s “treat others as they would like to be treated.”

This is a more complicated way to give! It requires that you know an institution or an individual well enough to have some idea of what would be useful. Sometimes it requires more conversation and thought.

But sometimes it is more simple too. If we live into the relationships around us, we will find opportunities to give are often right in front of us. And if we would like to give more, that can be an invitation to build new relationships.

This morning, I sit and type in a Waffle House. Growing up, Waffle House was where my Grandma Jeanette and I would often go to breakfast when I was visiting her. I still remember the songs she would choose on the Waffle House jukebox! And the flavor of Waffle House pancakes is still very specifically delightful to my tastebuds. She was my favorite grandparent. We would go to shows together, sing together, and be creative together. I would visit her about two weekends a month and they were some of the happiest times of my childhood.

I also recall, as she neared her death, her relationship with my mother became much more contentious. Grandma Jeanette, my favorite grandparent, would say things to my mother that were so hostile, I don’t want to type them here. I witnessed the deep pain this brought up in my mother as these comments were often related to family complexities that my mother had never healed from.

Both of these truths about my Grandma Jeanette travel with me in thinking about the grief that her death brought to my life. In that grief, there has long been an understanding that one person can be complicated: both lovable and painful, and possibly a multitude of other experiences within their one personhood.

Indeed grief contains a multitude of possible understandings and inheritances as every type of grief is a bit different, each situation is different, the people involved are different, and we are different as we move through our lives. So I’ve asked some of our Pastoral Care Team to contribute some words about understandings, joys, and challenges that they have received as part of their grief journeys:

“[My loved ones who have died], I remember them always, the good and bad.”

In the past year or so, I have often reflected about the newness which we are welcoming into our lives, especially as we move forward from the most intense points of isolation connected to COVID-19. This week at ERUUF it was moving to two services each Sunday, a cause for much celebration! While there are many aspects of newness in all avenues of life over the past couple of years, ERUUF has felt quite celebratory in it’s welcome of the new in the short time I have been here. This has been a wonderful experience for me, as one part of my spiritual grounding is the idea (held in more than one spiritual tradition) that nothing about our world or experience truly stays the same. Everything is constantly shifting and changing, sometimes in the smallest of ways, and sometimes much more noticeably. This change is neither good nor bad on the whole. But I think it is healthy to celebrate that newness can bring joy and possibility.

And also, while I may believe change is always around us and in us…while I may believe that there is no truly going back to what is how it was…there is an importance to recognizing the warmth and joy of the familiar. ERUUF’s move to two services is both new and familiar. For many who have been here a while, it may bring some comfort to see that bit of familiar structure re-arrive! In the same way, familiar traditions such as the recent Ingathering and the upcoming Connections Fair provide us touchstones for our travels through the year as well as memories and reminiscence of why we have come to be where we are on our journey. The familiar can keep us connected to those pieces of our life that, while they may shift, are more persistent and grounding.

So, as we travel into this September, I hope for you a blend of newness and the familiar. May we see the old in the new, as well as the new in the old. May we take the opportunity to offer care and community to each other when the old and new enter each of our lives in challenging ways. And may we come together in celebration of aspects of both frequently and with vigor!

Growing up, my mother was always wary of January. She noticed that every year, she would be excited to prepare for and celebrate the December holidays. Then suddenly, when January arrived, all the excitement dissipated. We were left with cold, snowy landscapes and a strong dose of Missouri monotony.