Poet Rio Cortez

How can we meet this moment with courage?

Simple, and yet seemingly so frightening.

We are called to stay engaged. Called by what, you say? By whom? By our shared faith, by our covenant with one another, by our individual and collective consciousness.

I don’t hear anybody calling! You say. Then maybe you not are listening.

Don’t only listen to the voices that are saying what you already know. Listen to the ones that challenge you, that defy your sense of reason, of order, of progress, of the way the world “ought” to be. Maybe those were just stories we told one another and ourselves for so long we believed them. And denial can be a very helpful tool! I learned a long time ago that if we all realized everything at once, we’d have a total psychic split. Reality is too much to comprehend. We take it in small doses. As we do, we become more connected with one another, with the Universe and its mysteries, until finally we disappear and leave this physical world for others to save or destroy.

This week, I will be talking about how we re-learn and re-know the world anew as we pass through it.

One of the things we are all coming to terms with in new ways is racism and the ways it permeates all of our lives.

Here’s a poem I read recently:

DRIVING AT NIGHT

Rio Cortez

For Laquan McDonald

I think it’s quails lining the road but it's fallen Birchwood.

What look like white clouds in a grassy basin, sprinklers.

I mistake the woman walking her retrieve as a pair of fawns.

Could-be animals. Unexplained weather. Maybe they see us

that way. Knowing better, the closer they get. Not quite ready

to let it go.

Laquan McDonald was one of many young Black men shot and killed by police. 2014. The poem explores the territory of how we think we know something by what we perceive, and yet, how often we perceive wrong. Here’s a link to an NPR series that goes in detail about his life, his killing, and the trial. Click here.

Laquan was what was called a “throwaway” kid. He was bounced around in the system. His life did not matter. My Seth would have been such a kid, too, if Eric and I hadn’t fought to have permanent custody of him. Would he have been shot down like Laquan? Maybe not, because he’s white… but then again, maybe so, because he’s autistic, and autistic kids are five times as likely to be assaulted by police as neurotypical ones.

In our book discussion of How to Be an Antiracist, which began Sunday, we started with the question, “what made you think or understand something in a new or different way than you had before?” I believe that GNUUC has the courage and the fortitude to have these talks productively. You have proved me right!

Truly, every day is an opportunity to learn something new.

It takes courage to admit we don’t know everything, that what we think we’ve known may be wrong, that indeed we may have been terribly wrong and may even have wronged others.

The root word for courage is the same as the word for heart. In French le cœur. In Spanish, corazon.

Take heart. You have more heart and more courage than you think.

The Byrds of Paradise (1994)

Even though we work as “a team” and consult with one another frequently (or maybe because,) Nathanael and I have never taken the time to sit down and get acquainted. I’m sure he’s heard or read bits of my “story,” (maybe more than once) as I use illustrations from my own experience, but I didn’t know a lot of his. For example: He was born in Norway! His parents were Baha’i missionaries. He left there for St. Louis at age three. (He was born the year I graduated from High School, 1973.) His parents and he and his siblings moved on to Hawaii, where he experienced racial animus against white people, who were minorities there. '

I told him about a TV series my nephew was in as a child star based upon that premise called The Byrds of Paradise. 

He also lived on Oahu and in Micronesia as his parents’ marriage ended, he stayed with his father, who went on to law school, he attended high school in several venues including by correspondence for one year, and finished in the white bastion of Amherst, Mass!

To me, this and his Baha’i faith go a long way to explain Nathanael’s exuberant, extroverted, and versatile ways. I think people who move a great deal and must adjust either learn the skills to do so or become extraordinarily withdrawn. By contrast, I went nowhere and was very provincial for about 30 years, as well as being super introverted, so I had to teach myself to have confidence in new circumstances.

I love this part of his story:

I got my first Lego kit, a Saturn rocket. I insisted on building something with the kit without following the assembly instructions. I required myself to use every piece. The irony was that there were these few pairs of pieces that, had I read the book, I would have understood were meant to be mated together to make HINGES. In the moment, I used them unmated for other improvisational purposes. But I often wonder what even more amazing thing I could have built if I had only taken a moment to read and understand hinges. Perhaps that informs my enduring enthusiasm to read the documentation.

Okay, there’s a lot more! But leaving out the mushy parts and the other stuff for another day, I pass the baton. Who would you like to know better? Give them a shout or email and ask them if you can interview them, by phone or just by email, as Nat and I did. If you’d rather, we can pair you with someone. 

As long as the GNUUC Building is closed, and Rev. Cain continues to work from home, these are the hours she will be in her virtual office and available to meet.

WEEKS 1-3 of each month:

Monday 8-4

Tuesday 8-4

Wednesday 8-4

Thursday will be her sermon prep day, Friday day off, Wed. eve & Sat. meetings. The fourth week will be off except for urgent matters, emergencies, and scheduled meetings. Please call, text or email to set a time.

Has it started to feel like this way of life, staying and working at home, wearing masks and taking precautions to go out, not seeing our family, friends, and fellow church members in person, has just become normal? Does it feel, some days, as if we will never return to what was before, that we will be stuck in this nether world for the rest of our days?

I know it does for me.

And, to be completely honest, it can lead to moments of discouragement, even despair. It can lead to days and even weeks of loneliness and bouts of anxiety. If you feel these things, you are not alone. In fact, I would say it’s perfectly normal to feel that way. Isolation is not beneficial for the human spirit. I hope you will reach out, to a trusted friend, a counselor, your minister (me), if these feelings become overwhelming. To make contact with me easier, I’ve established office hours which are posted here. They will also be on the website. Please send me an email  (cyncain@gmail.com)or text (859 221 3034) to set a time to talk. Know that while these hours are times I will always be available, I can be contacted any time in case of an emergency or urgent church business.

I, too, have felt anxious and uncertain. Looking deeply at my unease, I can see that it comes from being alone, from old habits of questioning myself, from shame I thought I’d conquered, and from fear about the future. It has been an enormous help to me to have re-connected with my first Buddhist teachers in California, and to sit with them three times a week, followed by discussion. Had there been no pandemic, I suspect I would never have been together with them again. Is there a practice that has calmed or soothed you in the past? Or can you explore new ones? Of course, if your sadness is crippling and you find it hard to function, please seek the help of a professional. It is never a weakness to acknowledge a depression or a similar challenge. Indeed, it is an act of courage for you and those who care about you!

Even as we gather each week, even as we have time to listen to one another, and to share our joys and our sorrows, I’m imagining ways we could grow into deeper connection, more trusting and accepting relationship. I see this happening in our covenant groups that meet regularly. I hope that our common read will engender even more of this. If you haven’t gotten the Ibram X. Kendi book, I have a recommendation for listening on either Audible (requires a membership) or Google Play books. Your library may also have free audiobooks you can “borrow” from home. I also have one more copy of the book to loan if you need one. Let me know.

Here’s a link to the discussion questions we will be using. Click here.

My intention for these discussions is that all voices and all opinions will be welcome. I think it’s fair to say that we do not have racists in our UU congregation, but that we do have a variety of ideas about the most efficacious ways to confront and eliminate racism in ourselves, our institutions, and our society. The first meeting will be Sunday, September 6, 2020, at 1:00 PM. A zoom link will be sent to all who signed up. (If you can’t make this time, please let me know as we may set up two times if we have enough people). See you then!

With Love,

Cynthia

“People are trapped in history and history is trapped in them.” James Baldwin

 It doesn’t matter whether you grew up in Nashville or even whether you grew up in the United States. Every place, every people has a history.

Right now, we in the United States feel we are in one of the greatest crossroads in our history. For me, it’s particularly effective that people who have been adversely affected by the policies and actions of the past four years are telling their stories.

It is through story, and through the particulars of story, that we come to know one another, and are moved to action. But also, those to whom we truly listened are affected too: they are healed; they become more whole.

What does it mean to say people are trapped in history?

One of my resources for this Sunday is a book called The Nashville Way. It’s a chronicle of the civil rights years in Nashville, through stories, stories told to an author, who is white and who was not from Nashville. The “Nashville way” he speaks of applies to both white and non-white Nashvillians. It’s a certain way of acting with civility, deference, following a script, that isn’t written anywhere but is understood.

The history is also trapped in them because until it has been told, it will cast a pall of dishonesty over all our interactions. Or, as the educator J.E. Windrow put it, in 1945, those who “buried their heads in a magnolia scented past” will never make progress. I believe this pattern still exists, and I also believe it can be found in some form in most urban US places, as well as in many other parts of the world.

I read several books about Nashville, but I can’t possibly tell the whole story of what occurred here, even if I gave a dozen sermons, which I doubt you’d appreciate! You may have or decide to buy some of these books. I especially recommend The Nashville Way and The Children.

You can also go online to read about the movement and some of the personalities.

Tennessee article with wonderful photos

MLK Symposium Papers

Civil Rights Walking/Driving Tour Map

So, I will be talking about a few things:

·        How these situations of disempowerment by race, class, caste are universal

·        How liberals have sometimes enabled them whilst trying to “help”

·        How to think about and discern whether/what you might do in response.

·        Why feeling guilty is a complete waste of energy.

There will be a Time for All Sages about the situation of the aboriginal people in Australia. Often, it’s easier to see the speck in someone else’s eye while ignoring the plank in our own. To go along with that, I’ve chosen some Aboriginal and Australian musicians. Hope to “see” you on Sunday.

Meanwhile: think happy thoughts and stay safe.

Cynthia

My father’s parents, Edith and Roland Cain, who died years before I was born and about whom I knew two things: he worked for “the railroad” and they were both from the “Eastern Shore.” My dad’s only brother, Named after his father, Painted the picture of his mother, and I believe they gave her the coat. Neither of them married until their forties, after their parents both died.

Billy, Shahzadeh, & Carmen

On my all-too-brief attempt to flee the isolation of the pandemic and get out on the open road, which lasted exactly four of the ten days I had planned, I nonetheless visited my paternal grandparents (ok, dead for seventy years but still) and a few of the places my ancestors lived as well as met some intriguing characters. There was Carmen, who worked at the cemetery, and valiantly spent an hour and a half trying to FIND the headstones of my relatives, running up and down lines of engraved granite markers, peering at his printout of the section, like a keystone cop, until he realized he’d mistaken a 4 for an 8, and drove back to the office, leaving me wandering amidst the dear departed in the hot sun, being assaulted by chiggers whose souvenir bites I’d take home with me. I saw his car pull over a few hundred feet away, and he hollered, OVER HERE! … and sure enough, there were my grandparents’ names, and, presumably, their remains. Later, I walked some trails at Assateague National Park and I met a little boy whose mother and aunts kept telling him in Spanish to hurry up, come on, we have to go. He tarried, disappointed they hadn’t seen the famous ponies. He wanted to converse with me in English though and told me his name was Lucero and I asked him what his family called him. He said, well some of them call me Shahzadeh. Wait, I thought, That’s not Spanish!  Somehow, I discovered his father was from Iran, and Shahzedah meant “Prince.” He kept asking me if I lived there or worked there (because of my encyclopedic knowledge about the ponies) and we chatted all the way back to the parking lot. On my way out of the reserve, I saw several ponies right near the road, and I hoped my new friend and his adults hadn’t left too soon to see them.

I stayed 2 nights at an Airbnb at the southernmost tip of the Eastern shore peninsula. The erstwhile town is called Cape Charles. The very eccentric man whose beach cottage I stayed in fit the description (he was an “artist”) but I was somewhat alarmed when I parked my car in the late evening and saw on the back window of his truck an “Infowars” sticker. Nonetheless, I stayed, and “Billy,” who was almost too solicitous, showed me around, then went off to a back part of the house. I took off at 6AM and got back at about 9PM. I did have a lot of plans, but I was also aware that I did NOT want to have a conversation with my host. I was avoiding him! He wasn’t there when I got back (I imagined he was at a meeting of the society for conspiracy theories) but came in shortly. I was hot and frazzled. He asked me if I needed anything, then gave me the most delicious piece of cold seedless watermelon I think I’ve ever had. I did not see him again.

The living room of my Airbnb in Cape Charles. The host, Billy, was an artist and everything was painted! There was also a lot of art made from found objects.

As I reflected upon my trip, and the many people I’d met, I saw how easily I had categorized people: Male, Latina, kid, Italian, Right-wing, creepy, smart, dumb, on & on. I realized how we do this every day. What if we were more intentional about those interactions, and what if we approached conversations with the goal of making the world a better place?

So: what are impossible conversations?

Join us by Zoom on Sunday (or watch later on YouTube) and see what you think.

It’s very unusual to see the Assateague (or the Chincoteague) ponies this close to the road. In July, they are rounded up, and the young ones swim across to the mainland where they’re auctioned off. This is the means by which these wild horses, origins unknown, are kept to a manageable size herd.

I’m back! That is to say, I’m turning my attention to GNUUC after several weeks of attending to family and personal matters, because I am still here, in Kentucky. But even though I’m a few hours away, my heart is with you, each of you, and Nashville feels like a “home” I shall return to.

I’m excited that the Board has asked me to stay on for another year. At the same time, I feel anxious and uncertain. In other words, I feel just like everyone else, not knowing what to expect nor how to meet each day.

Ministry of 25 years (as of June 4th, which I would have celebrated at our General Assembly had there been a General Assembly) did not prepare me for a pandemic, for long-distance pastoral care, for Zoom worship and online meetings, and for working in my bedroom/office.

A photo taken by my father in the 1920s. I found my way to these docks and had a seafood dinner. How curious, to be in the very place your forbears lived and worked and loved and died. “The Docks at Watchapreague” (a very small fishing town on the Eastern shore of VA)

I want you to tell me what you’d like to see me do more of. I’ve been spending a great deal of my time reading, studying, and preparing. I’ve also been maintaining a spiritual practice with some new elements that I hope to share with you. I’ve made numerous contacts and attended several meetings a week with interfaith groups in Nashville.

I think of all of you more than you probably realize. Please let me know if you’d like to chat and we will set up a call. Going forward, I will have open office hours when you can call and talk with me about anything from church matters to questions of faith and meaning. I may not have the answers, but I can listen, and I know how to help you find the answers that you probably already have.

This past week, feeling stir-crazy after more than four months at home, I decided to drive to the home place of my paternal ancestors. My dad died 25 years ago (yes, two months before I was ordained) and he left no clues about his family, other than a few vague remarks about how he spent his summers and a handful of photographs. I knew much more about my mother’s people, even though I barely recall her. But on my leave time, I got back into digging around through the Cain family as well as the McAllister, Purnell, Gillis, Outten, and Hammonds, all of whom lived in a very circumscribed place on a peninsula called the Eastern shore. These people were some of the original settlers, arriving in the 1600s, and fought in both the Revolutionary and Civil Wars (Union.) Dad spent all his summers there. I realized that it was a second “home” to him because it had determined so much of his loves, from carving decoys to making clam chowder and sweet potato pie.

I decided to make a visit, since the virus wasn’t bad there, and I’d mostly be walking in cemeteries, and spend some time following up on leads. It was fascinating, exciting, and foolish! After four days, I had a scratchy throat. I immediately concluded that I had coronavirus. It went away (probably allergies) but a hurricane warning followed, and I left early, driving home in one afternoon. I will go back, someday. For now, I’m home, this KY home, happy to be planning for our shared ministries, and scheduled for a CV test tomorrow!

I love you all very much, and I am so grateful to be working with you a while longer. Let’s get into some good trouble.

Cynthia

This very moment is fraught.

Fraught is a word from Middle English with the same root as freight. It means weighed down, loaded, filled with, as a boat or ship is when filled with freight.

This moment is heavy with anxiety, fear, rage, grief, hope, and love. For that reason alone, it is a time to stay awake, to pay attention, to not allow ourselves to be lulled into a sense of complacency.

Pay attention.

Don’t just listen to the voices of doom and despair. Limit your time on social media and watching news and see whether you feel better or worse. Instead, pay attention to the sounds around you, sensations of pleasure and discomfort, the taste of your food, the miracle of your breath. I’m not suggesting you do this 24/7, but perhaps for a few minutes each day, as an experiment. See if your mood shifts. See how you feel.

I love hearing from you, so let me know!

I will be on leave for the rest of this month so that I can be ready to return in August. Whether I return in body or in spirit remains to be seen! But rest assured I’m not going anywhere. When I get back, we will go ahead with the community book read, and I will post virtual office hours. While on leave, I will be paying attention, and trying to understand how I can best serve GNUUC this coming year. I welcome your input. Also, know that I can come back from leave in the case of emergency. Just leave me a text, e-mail, or message.

Are there things you need that you’d like me to do?

Some of my time since mid-March has been spent establishing relationships with interfaith clergy and laity in Nashville that I hope we can continue together. The spirit of cooperation and determination to work together is strong in these days.

It’s one of many blessings that has emerged.

Last night, I was asked to offer a benediction at a NOAH-sponsored school board candidate forum for District 9. By listening to the questions and the NOAH panelists, I learned so much about this city, its people, and its past. I’ve been remembering how important David Halberstam’s book The Children was to me years ago. The history of Nashville with racism and Civil Rights is fraught as well. Fraught need not be all bad. A moment can be both fraught with trepidation and with promise. The promise is what keeps me going, and I hope it sustains you as well.

Here’s the prayer:

Spirit of Love

Spirit of Hope,

We know that the young are our greatest treasure, and our most urgent priority.

We have seen their resilience, their courage, their unity and their determination.

Our task is not so much to mold them as to empower them.

Let us set about that task with humility. The future will be theirs, but it is up to us to ensure there is a future, and to prepare them.

They are telling us, even in these hours of confusion and frustration, that they do know a way. The way is knowledge. The way is cooperation. The way is peace.

As the Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh says, “There is no way to peace. Peace is the way.”

Jesus was called “teacher”. Moses was a leader. Mohammed was a prophet.

As it was in the Nashville in 1960 when Diane Nash, Jim Bevel, and John Lewis, students and followers of Rev. James Lawson, walked through fear and intimidation to stage those early lunch-counter sit-ins, so it is today, sixty years later. A child shall lead them, the Scripture says, and so in our choices we should not only teach but learn from our youth. We should listen and let them lead us when the time is right.

May Nashville once again be a place that is remembered for what we have done for the least of these.

May we turn toward, not away from our children.

For today, with so much at stake in this world, it is our obligation to serve them.

May it be so.

See you in August!

Cynthia

Everyone!

I’m very excited.

First: thank you for trusting and supporting me during these days of uncertainty and separation. I have felt the encouragement and enthusiasm of the GNUUC Board and all of our ministries as we plod, sometimes stumble, sometimes lurch through these days. We will all look back and realize that maybe we should have done this or that… but it is my hope that we shall also see in retrospect that we grew in wisdom and understanding.

This time of social distancing has created ministry opportunities for me that I hope will benefit our whole congregation (and beyond.) Because I am not commuting, and because so many community-based meetings and workshops have moved online, I’ve had the opportunity to meet and become familiar with many interfaith leaders and organizers from West Nashville and beyond. Here is a partial list of them:

• Weekly “Rabbi & Reverend” meetings with about 12-15 interfaith leaders

• Participation in the West Nashville clergy group

• Membership in Spiritual Alliance For Interfaith Reconciliation

• Workshops with Gamaliel (NOAH)

• Preaching seminars

• Our gift of almost $10,000 (funded by a UUA grant) to communities most devastated by the tornado has opened doors and created connections.

An example of what has occurred is that West Nashville clergy are making plans to host a billboard for 4 weeks in support of removing the Nathan Bedford Forrest bust from the Statehouse, and to follow up with our presence and continued support. Here’s a link to an article about the latest effort to have the bust removed. Still, as one person of color told us bluntly, that’s great but it has to be just a beginning. I know that many of you have devoted time, effort, and money to support marginalized people. The leading edge is figuring out what we can do as a community and in conjunction with other faith communities that we couldn’t do individually.

Because I had relationships with the Imam and a leader in the Muslim community, I was able to reach out personally after the anti-Islamic ad appeared in the paper. Their gratitude and good wishes for our community were abundant. Building relationships.

In addition, I’ve been doing some fairly intensive work and study in my Buddhist practice and with guided meditations, Neuro Linguistic Programming, and even hypnotism, which I hope will provide me with resources for our times ahead, or at least make me a calmer, healthier minister when we all join together.

I have a better phone!

When I return from leave at the beginning of August, I will set up a link with “office hours” during which you can schedule a phone meeting, to plan church events, to kvetch about anything church or non-church, or just to process how you are doing. Meanwhile, I’m still on duty for the next week so please text or leave a message if you’d like to set up a call. My cell # is 859 221 3034.

Don’t forget to check in on one another by phone, e-mail or snail mail, and to thank your leaders, volunteers, and pastoral caregivers for carrying the burden of planning and shifting gears day by day.

My love to all,

Cynthia

I knew nothing about this statue! Keep me informed!