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This month UU congregations across the world are considering the question, “What does it mean to find our center?” What is our center? One of the great gifts and also challenges of our faith is that we don't, like so many others, come together to find inspiration in a single story. We don’t all believe in the story of Christianity, or Judaism. We find inspiration not just in these stories, and the stories of the Buddha and the ancient Greek philosophers, but also in science, nature and contemporary thought and writers. We don’t come to a single, laser focused point in our tradition. Instead, together we create a sacred space where different inspirations are welcomed. In our hymnal we can find a reading accredited to Lau Tse: Thirty spokes share the wheel’s hub; It is the center hole that makes it useful. Shape clay into a vessel; It is the space within that makes it useful. Cut doors and windows for a room; It is the holes that make it useful. Therefore profit comes from what is there; Usefulness from what is not there. Our center is what is NOT there. This center allows us the freedom to live in integrity with our hopes, aspirations and values. There need not be conflict. As we consider our center this month, let us ever keep in mind that there is room enough for all. Rev. Joe

I don’t think it’s really possible that a modern person understands, viscerally, the depth of night. We know what it’s like to have no lights on in our homes, but even then, mostly, there is the ambient light of other humans. There are always other houses, street lamps, large cities whose glow pollutes the holy darkness that is the night. Humans who lived before 1879 understood how dark the night was. As early as 1880 Wabash, Indiana introduced electric street lamps, and by the 1920’s most cities had electric lights. On December 21st we will have our longest night of the year. Our ancestors understood this annual event and created rituals and ceremonies that were celebrated around the longest night of the year. Beginning in late November (the 24th this year) Christians observe a four week long time of anticipation, called Advent, where they await the birth of the Christ Child, which culminates in Christmas. Buddhist observe Bodhi Day, the day that marks the enlightenment of The Buddha. People of the Jewish Faith celebrate Hanukkah, which commemorates the liberation of Jerusalem in 165 BC and the reconsecration of their temple. With only enough oil to last 2 nights, the lamp stayed lit for 8 nights, and they consider this to be a miracle. This year Hanukkah will be observed from December 18-26. In the midst of these holy days for these faiths comes the longest night of the year, a night when people in the British Isles burned the largest log through the night, this annual celebration is of course Yule. And lastly in order of date and time of first celebration is Kwaanza which begins on December 26 and is a modern celebration of the values of the people of the African Diaspora. Light is the human response to the mystery that is the night. For most of human history night was a very dangerous time. May these commemorations of hope, comfort and joy bring to you a sense of well being this season.

A few years ago I opted to subscribe to a program, written by UU’s, that offers us a chance to worship along common themes along with other congregations. This service provides a theological theme for the month, and that theme carries through the worship life, the religious education life and the small group ministries life of a congregation, as the congregation chooses to engage with it. This service is called Soul Matters. I don’t know if it’s the autumnal colors, or the arrival of sweater weather, but this month’s theological theme is Change. Change is something that, as part of a growing, living tradition, are deeply engaged in. Unitarian Universalism calls ourselves a liberal faith, which means that we are a people who are willing to engage in self-reflexive thought. We do not take the past to have all the answers, we are not prisoners to words written thousands of years ago, or concepts that pre-date the printing press. We encounter an idea, we examine it carefully, and we decide, individually and collectively, if we want to integrate this concept into our lives. Change can only happen with movement. In the 1920’s and 1930’s the modern Humanist movement not only began, but really began to interact with Unitarianism. Some of our ancestors, both Unitarian and Universalist, were signers of the 1933 Humanist Manifesto (and its subsequent revisions.) At the time there was a great struggle in Unitarianism from the church that was (rooted in Biblical Unitarianism) to the church that would become, the one we know today. Almost 100 years later there is another shift coming to Unitarian Universalism. I won’t claim the ability to foretell what this next chapter in our faith will be as it is just beginning and will take decades to really rise to a prominence, but as happened a century ago those people who are comfortable where we have been are struggling with the change that is not just coming, but just beginning to manifest itself in our congregations. John F. Kennedy wrote: Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past and present are certain to miss the future. When we are on the side of change, this is an easy concept to embrace. When we are on the side of stasis, this statement is a real challenge. The key to successfully navigating this, or any change, in a congregation is the way we treat each other as we consider the future together. Corretta Scott King tells us: It doesn't matter how strong your opinion is. If you don't use your power for positive change, you are indeed part of the problem. One thing in life is certain, and that is change. The question I’m left with is how do we step into the coming changes with a focus on that which mirrors our values as Unitarian Universalists. How do we lead with love and kindness?

The word Belong is said to have entered the English language in the mid-14th century, the time of the English Poet Geoffrey Chaucer. Here’s an example of Chaucer’s writing at the time, where he addresses death and the afterlife: “His spirit chaunged house and wente ther, As I cam nevere, I kan nat tellen wher.” ― Geoffrey Chaucer My best guess at a modern version of this quote goes like this: “His spirit changed (transitioned/moved on?) and went somewhere else. As I have never been, I cannot tell where.” The word belong has roots in Old German, and so it’s clearly not a new concept. I think there exists a tension in Unitarian Universalism about belonging. Humans are social animals, and so on some level part of us longs to be with other people, and also we are a people of very strong individualism. One of the podcasts I regularly listen to, Freakonomics, in a recent episode discussed cultures that are looser or more strict, and the continuum of collectivism and individualism. The United States is widely seen as the most individualistic national culture, and has been for a couple of centuries. We have this call to be on our own, to be self-sufficient, to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps. Some have a false narrative that they are “self-made,” as if any of us could survive infancy on our own. None of us are completely self-created, and none of us can live completely on our own. We belong to many groups, biological families, families of choice. Neighborhood and towns, houses of faiths and groups completely organized by affinity. As the quote from Chaucer above teaches us, there is a great mystery before we live, and a great mystery after we die. That is all we know. In this, if nothing else, we all belong, be we philosophers, scientists, dreamers, theologians, kayakers, bakers.

I’ve always loved Autumn. The temperatures cool down, the leaves change and for a goodly portion of my life a new school year begins, and I love a new beginning. So many possibilities. It’s possibilities that I write about today. There was a time when there seemed to be naught but possibilities in the future. Where one went to college, or not, the career or job you chose, or chose you, for example. Along the way through each of the decisions, a few unused possibilities got cast aside. Had you wanted to be an actor when you were a kid, but the sciences called you away? Were you once a dedicated dancer, but then as you focused on other things your body became less able to perform at the level it once did? I know this last sorrow personally, but through music. There was a time when I played music about 30 hours a week. I was very dedicated and not too shabby at it, either. But as other responsibilities approached, I had the opportunity to play less and less. I still love to play, but I’m no longer the player I once was. I’ve gotten older, and the adjustment to playing in a concert band while wearing progressive lenses are my new reality. But aside from physical process of playing an instrument, I’d like to think that I’m capable of producing more nuanced phrases, both in playing and writing. As I’ve tasted more of what life has to offer, I’ve honed my skills. I have adapted and matured, I think because I have remained open to possibilities. This month we’re going to focus on embracing possibilities at UUFalmouth. We’ll do a little letting go of what was and reaching forward toward what could be. As certainly as it will involve some grief and tender feelings as we let go, there will also come excitement and imaginings of what might be next. And next after that. We are a forward thinking people, but we will only remain forward thinking if we keep looking in that direction. Certainty is the death of growth. Wonder is the humus of it. Let us dig around in it.

It used to really bother me when someone would say to me “I’ll pray for you,” of “Have a Blessed Day,” or some other well-meaning but clearly religious line of departure. It used to bug me because I wasn’t sure I wanted what every prayer the speaker had to offer on my behalf, nor was I all that jazzed about having to have my day constricted by the speaker’s idea of what it meant to be blessed. I thought of this as the speaker trying to lay their theology over me like a blanket that I just did not want. As if their concern, and their expression of it somehow obligated me to accept their kindness in the format and language in which it was offered. At some point, I realized that their blessing was really more about a kindness than recruitment. They weren’t necessarily trying to get me to believe the way that they did. I started listening to the intent rather than the language. And that freed me up to really begin embracing blessings. I began to understand that a blessing does not necessarily have to be rooted in an idea of the kind of intercessory G-d of the Abrahamic tradition. A blessing could be, and has become for me, a moment of awareness. A moment, taken out of ordinary time, to be reminded of the beauty in the world around me. Your morning walk can offer you any number of blessings, as can sitting in a favorite chair. If petting an animal is your thing, there blessings abound for both you and the animal. If you have been like me and struggled with some religious language, I encourage you to change your relationship with some of those words. We can expand our understanding of words like blessing, and prayer, and no longer hold in places of pain or discomfort for us. The path to more spiritual maturity, more freedom, lies in taking these words that trigger you and working with them, so that you are no longer their prisoner. For so long we have reacted to words and concepts instead of thoughtfully responding to them. This month, spend a little time with religious words that constrict you. Look them up in the dictionary, on line at your favorite etymology site. Really roll around in the dirt with these words. In doing so, you may well be able to freer than you’ve ever been. Your minister, Rev. Joe

We come to May, the air crisp with the late Spring, and the Cape gearing up for the Summer. A Summer sure to be full of visiting families and our own kin, chosen and biological. The magic of Summer is coming, and we are all very excited. Last August when I arrived on Cape Cod, I was stunned by both its beauty and its ordinary vignettes, beautiful in their own way. Of course there is the water, the beautiful beaches, the stunning parades of people here on weekends. But, to me, more impressively, were the simpler, out of the way places of beauty, and the way it was clear to me that Cape Codders took care of each other. One of the first, and for me yet most enduring, examples of this is the Hand in Hand Thrift Shop. I love a good thrift shop and this one did not disappoint! Lest you think this is a commercial for this place, let me tell you why I liked it so much. The shop is evidence of caring and nurturing. Not only is it a place where one can find things one needs at a very reasonable price, but the shop is a place where people can share their abundance with those who may not have as much. It’s part of a foundation of helping hands where neighbors help neighbors. It’s a part, the most visible part, but not the only part. I could see this from the moment I first walked into the store down the street from our Meeting House, and it really humanized the Cape for me. Not being a native of New England, I had this idea that only very wealthy people lived on Cape Cod. I had visions of sailboats and big houses. I thought I’d see lots of boat shoes, you know those Sperry Boat Topsiders, everywhere. The Hand in Hand shop showed me that there would be a whole spectrum of people here on the Cape, and that the people who lived here tried to care for one another. This, to me, was a beautiful relief. Caring people, nurturing beauty. I knew I was going to love my time here.

Someone sent me a joke about the 12 weather seasons of New England, and I think we might be entering The Spring of Deception according to this calendar. I see nature awakening around me as we go on our morning walks. Bits of green pushing up through our front lawn with heretofore unknown future flowers. One of the joys of your first year in a new home is you often don’t know what bulbs were planted where by the previous occupants. And so I see crocuses popping up and I hear the very beginnings of the music of the peepers, but I remain dubious about the season changing. I’m nervous about the approach of “Third Winter” and “The Pollening” before Spring actually arrives. For now I’m taking what I can get. A nice sunny day for a walk in our local park, or a lunch time visit to Silver Beach, a place that’s become a favorite spot for me. And also I see more people out than I have for a while. Out of doors without masks, indoors mostly with masks, which is a perfect visual metaphor for how life is right now. We’re not out of the pandemic yet, and who knows if another variant will send us back into more cautious times, but still we’re trying to live our lives in the place that is the new normal. Maybe the new normal means keeping a mask in your pocket as you go about your daily business, just in case you need to pop into a store for something, and feeling bold enough to take your mask off as you walk in a park. I can think of worse things than a mindset of preparedness intertwined, like the The Two Aspects of Taiji, known also as the yin-yang symbol of Chinese philosophy; alongside a readiness to take the chance to remove your protective covering when you feel so emboldened. As the natural world awakens from its months-long slumber, may you stretch your mind, body and spirit in this new season. Your minister, Rev. Joe

I sit down to write my monthly column on the first day of atrocious violence committed by Russia against the people of the Ukraine. I stared for a long time at a blank page, a blinking cursor, waiting for words to come. In March we are asking the theological question “What does it mean to be a people of renewing faith?” And I wonder how to hold this hopeful message in such a time as this. This invasion happens two years into a global pandemic. This invasion happens at a time when I, as a person, am tired. This invasion happens as the rest of the world prays for peace. How can I renew my faith at this moment? Perhaps the answer is this: it is a moment, precisely this moment, that I need to dig deeper into my faith in humanity. I need to reassert my belief that it is required of each of us to lift up the value of each person, to reassert my understanding that we are all interconnected. My heart breaks not just for the civilians of the Ukraine, but for the Russian soldiers who will one day have to come to terms with the violence they bring down on their cousins. I hope my faith is strong enough to hold them in care when that time comes. Faith is not easy. Cheap, knee jerk reactions are easy. Faith is hard. Faith doesn’t mean that I have all of the answers, but that I must keep seeking them. Faith does not mean that I know what to do at this moment. Faith is…. As the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr teaches us: Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase. My first step is to remember that I have faith in our shared humanity. My second step was to call the Priest of the nearest Ukrainian Orthodox Church, to offer assistance to their cleric, born himself in the Ukraine, and ask, clumsily, awkwardly and honestly “Can I be of help?” My third step is yet unknown. I can’t see that far ahead, but I will keep stepping. Your minister, Rev. Joe

“At a gathering convened by UUA co-presidents Rev. Sofia Betancourt, Rev. William Sinkford, and Dr. Leon Spencer in Atlanta in 2017, UU leaders of color were asked to share their insights into how the Association could continue moving forward in the midst of another racially charged moment.” This is the preface of a UUA publication called “Widening the Circle of Concern, published in 2020. This study, the first one by the Commission on Institutional Change, is helping us take a hard look at our Unitarian Universalist faith, our history and our present moment. The report, in its entirety, has been published by the UUA, and it’s an interesting read, it was for me. It challenged a lot of what I thought I knew, about the way I often thought about things and made me question my own role and position within Unitarian Universalism. Our theological theme for the month of February is Widening the Circle. And it makes me ask the question, how big is our circle? Who is within it? Who is on the margins of it, and who exists outside of our circle entirely? As a Unitarian Universalist Congregation, we are in a covenant with the other 1,100 congregations. We are both independent and in a covenant. We are not compelled to be in covenant with the other UU congregations, and some Unitarian, Universalist and UU congregations exist outside of our covenant. UUF has chosen to be a member of the covenant, which binds us to greater Unitarian Universalism. I ask again, how big is our circle? How big would we like our circle to be? What’s stopping us from having the most expansive, welcoming, inclusive congregation? These are questions that we need to be asking ourselves. These questions can be big and scary and I’m here to help. I’m here to hold open the space when we’re nervous, to meet you in your tender places in complete non-judgement. I want to help you ask yourselves: what would it be like to be more? As we walk our way through February, asking ourselves how we widen our circle of concern, I encourage you to be brave, bold, vulnerable and full of grace to each other and yourselves. It’s time we start thinking about why we are here, and what our place in this grand world could be. Your minister, Rev. Joe

When I worked in a boutique law firm I learned the phrase: “Intent is 9/10ths of the law.” The attorney who taught me that was really trying to get me to consider law school. Though I appreciated his vote of confidence at the time, clearly I chose a different path. These many years later, this phrase still pops into my mind, but now I see it through a more theological and philosophical lens. The word religion has its roots in Latin, of course: religare, to bind fast together. As this word traveled through time its meaning has deepened. It came to English through Old French as religio which had come to mean obligation, bond, reverence. Our modern understanding of the word, at least in the U.S. and other Western cultures, tends to have been associated with Christianity in particular, but the word religion is not dogmatic. The argument can be made that the word religion is about intention, not tied to a specific theology. Religion practice is a way of repetition and ritual used to find what is of ultimate value to you. Religion of course can be Christian, but it can also be a habitual walk along the shoreline, if that helps you to find your center and focus your spiritual life. As Unitarian Universalists we have often forbidden certain words from being uttered in our sanctuaries because of the connotations the word might have. But to ban these words is to surrender them to those who would use them to gain an authority that we don’t want these folks to have. If you live with intention, aiming toward your values and your moral code, you are practicing religion. As your minister, I of course endorse and encourage this kind of radical behavior. A spiritual path is one in which you strive to become your best self. This is 9/10ths of a religious life. Rev. Joe

I was invited to submit a meditation on joy this fall, and my submission was accepted and published. Joy Is Hard by Rev. Joe Cherry Joy is hard. Joy requires us to feel safe enough, to be safe enough, to open to vulnerability. To feel joy, you must be brave. Joy walks into a room after the space has been cleared. Cleared of shame, Cleared of doubt, Cleared of self-recrimination. Joy is hard. Joy is hard and joy is worth the hard work of preparation. Preparing oneself and setting down all the defenses all the shoulds and could'ves, all the should not haves and might haves. Joy is worth the work. You are worth the work. You can start small: the simple pleasure of your favorite tea, the grand freedom of a full belly laugh. Invite Joy to be your companion. Joy is something I’d like to have more of in my life. Joy feels freeing and light hearted. Like many others, I have been struggling with the state of the world in the past couple of years, and I don’t mean just the pandemic and the complications and limitations it has introduced to our lives. I think about the political polarization in our nation and how more and more it seems harder to find a middle ground with people who are not of like mind. I sometimes worry that our congregations, where so many say they just want to be with like-minded folks, have become places of comfort, not growth. I heard a podcast recently, How To Build A Happy Life, where the host examined the problem of raising people to have an easy time, to raise children in a cocoon of safety, and how that may prevent us from developing coping skills, and may actually rob adults of happiness. This wasn’t some crummedgon who talked about how he walked to school 7 miles uphill both ways in the snow. The show is hosted by Arthur Brooks, a PhD in Social Science and Harvard professor. Is our searching for the comfortable and familiar actually decreasing our capacity for joy? I was also exposed to the idea recently that the reason that time moves so slowly for the young and so quickly for older people is that younger people are constantly being exposed to new ideas, new challenges, and older people are not, so they have less new experiences which makes time appear to move more quickly. Joy is also more possible if we do our best to work against what is called Negativity Bias, which is defined as: our tendency not only to register negative stimuli more readily but also to dwell on these events. Inviting Joy would seem to be, then, an intentional act. To be open to new ideas and new possibilities, to take in new information, to step out of our emotional safety and into a wider field, and to also notice, and then let go of negative stimuli. As we enter the full on holiday schedule, I encourage you to let go of perfection, to embrace what is good, rather than to wish for what is better. To not only demonstrate kindness to others, but to accept it graciously when it is offered to you. This of course cannot guarantee joy, because nothing can. But to do the opposite will surely make joy harder to find.