The Easter holiday is supposed to be filled with joy and hope.

Even if you aren’t Christian, we in the temperate zones have the many rituals associated with Spring and renewal. We ministers are here to remind you that even when life ends, love goes on. And, sure, love in its many guises will go on as long as there is humanity.

But let’s face it. Some endings have no built-in resurrection, no easy explanation, and the best we can do is come to terms with them. When I’m no longer with you (and I just mean as your minister) I want to leave a few things behind.

Here’s the first. It’s three words: Come. To. Terms. Whether it’s your child, grandchild, client or Facebook friend, or you, sometimes the best advice when dealing with the irreconcilable losses and griefs of life is this: No, it won’t go away. But someday, you will come to terms with it.

Many of us are UUs because we think the literal interpretation of Biblical stories is nonsense, but worse than that, it causes harm. Easter, for example. The notion that suffering brings redemption has been used to subjugate women and explain their abuse by the Church for millennia.

And so on.

“Mama” by Kelly Latimore

This Sunday, I will endeavor to unpack the crucifixion story of Easter by discussing some similarities between the crucifixion of Christ and the extrajudicial killings and lynchings of Black people. Know that the sermon itself will not go into any disturbing detail, but it will mention these events, in case they are triggers for you. On a much lighter note, I will also be talking about Easter in a Unitarian village in Transylvania, our friends the Roma families (FKA gypsies) and showing you how to make beautiful, easy Hungarian Easter eggs!

And you’ll be treated to some beautiful singing by our own Tina Conti. Not to be missed!

Note that you will be getting a link on Sunday morning and can view the service at any time on Sunday. Details will also be on our website.

In April, I will be taking the remainder of my study leave and although I plan to travel, I will still be available via email if you need me. I do plan to come to Nashville several times in May and June, and I’d like to start a list of folks who are fully vaccinated (I will be) and would like to either meet or have me visit.

I hope your Easter is joyful and your April is full of blossoms!

With Love,

Cynthia

When I was in college studying literature, I had a teacher whose main subject was Linguistics. I took his class because my Dad’s brother Don, who died young, had taught Linguistics and I wanted to understand it. Turns out he also taught an occasional class on Irish Literature because he was Irish, and one of a small number of Irish Jews. We didn’t study Yeats or Joyce or Shaw; we read the stories of Peig Sayers and Tomas O Crohan, who wrote about their lives on the Blasket Islands.

He showed us his collection of slides from a trip he’d made to Ireland, and spoke so enthusiastically about the people, the land, the language, and the culture that I determined to visit as soon as I was able.

I felt an identification like I never had for any place or thing.

But life has a way of taking us along, and I didn’t travel to Europe until I was in my forties. Finally at almost sixty, I had an opportunity to visit Ireland. By then, I knew much more about the history of Ireland and of myself. I was about 90% Scots-Irish, so even though my ancestors were primarily in the north, it seemed more understandable that I might have this strong affinity.

Even more so, it seems to me that something that is taught to us or that we learn at a certain age can become a lifelong passion. I spent nearly a month there eight years ago, and hope to return. I wasn’t able to visit the Blasket Islands, but I visited the gravesite of Peig Sayers and it was like a pilgrimage.

CLICK HERE for a brief video about the Blasket Islands. Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

As we approach the one-year anniversary of our first “pandemic” Sunday, I am sharply aware of how much has changed.

The seasons have all turned. The Still Spring garden at GNUUC has blossomed, wintered, and been tended and enjoyed. Our community has also weathered the year, making adjustments to separation, loneliness, and so many unfamiliar and sometimes overwhelming ways of doing things.

We were dragged kicking and screaming, or perhaps just whimpering, into the 21st century. We zoomed, we socially-distanced for holidays, we had cocktail hour online, we finally saw Hamilton. Many of us learned new skills and enriched our knowledge of the world, once we accepted that we’d have to “travel” digitally. The air became cleaner. The White House became more dignified. We prayed, sang, and held our breath through several elections and… guess what? We are still here.

A few dear ones left us, and for that we are deeply sorrowful.

When I made arrangements to come to Nashville part-time to work with GNUUC, I told the committee that I would stay as long as I was able depending upon my health and my family. And by family, I mean primarily my 16-year-old son Seth, who, because he is on the Autism spectrum, struggles daily. The pandemic has not been easy for any school kids, but for kids with disabilities, it has been excruciatingly hard. Seth begged me not to ever leave him again after I returned from serving in NJ for 2 years. We all thought the Nashville arrangement would be fine, because he was older, would be busy with band on weekends, and because it was closer and I’d be home for a few days each week. And it was fine, until COVID happened. He is failing classes, fighting anxiety attacks, and generally unhappy. (And that is with both of us here at the house.) ASD people need predictable schedules and lots of support.

My heart has been torn, because I love each one of you so much, and wish I could stay on a bit longer. At the same time, I can not say that I am the person to give you the best ministry with these other demands. I look forward to seeing many of you after I’ve had my second immunization in April, and to staying connected to hear all the great things I know you have in store!

Love, Cynthia

In High School, we read Julius Cesar, and I had one line: “Beware the Ides of March.”

I was the soothsayer. I had to put all my acting skills into those five words.

Had someone told us, one year ago, that we’d be virtually imprisoned in our homes, separated from our loved ones, fearful of an invisible virus, having to take extreme measures to go out in public, and witnessing the deaths of hundreds of thousands of Americans, the sickening of millions, the unemployment and displacement and despair that come with such an epidemic, all while going through a brutal and barbaric political campaign and election cycle, we couldn’t have imagined it, but my guess is that most of us would have imagined it with sheer horror.

I don’t mean to imply that the pandemic has been easy in any way — far from it — there have been many losses and tragedies for us all, but we have survived. I believe our connections and our commitments have grown stronger and more caring, even as most of us have only seen one another on screens.

The last time I spoke at GNUUC was March 15th, 2020. When I left that day, I left all of my sermon notes, my books, my files, and a good deal of my clothes in Nashville. I could have come back for a day or two, but I haven’t. The thought of being there and not seeing you was too depressing, and I’ve been vigilant about staying well until I could get immunized. I got my first injection yesterday, as Kentucky opened the 1C category! My second will be April 1st. I know that doesn’t mean we will all be back to normal, but it feels like the beginning of the end, or the end of the beginning, and I look forward to seeing you again.

I’ve started a conversation with the Board and leadership about moving in the direction of retirement later this year. It’s been a very difficult decision for me, mainly because I love GNUUC so much. But my health and family really leave no options. The Board and I will keep you well informed as our discussions progress.

This year, the Ides of March will be on a Monday. We will be in the second day of Daylight Saving Time, my very favorite time. Here in central KY, it’s light until almost 10PM in June.

This year, I don’t want to be the soothsayer! I hope we don’t have to beware the ides of March, or April, or May. We all deserve a break.

With Love,

Cynthia

My daughter and a church member on the roof of a house we built in Biloxi after Katrina. He died much too young a few years later. Yesterday our congregation had its first death (not from covid) since the pandemic began. Life is #holy #uulent2021

By now, you will have heard that Tom Christenbery, husband of David Frese, member of GNUUC since its beginning, died suddenly on Tuesday morning. We hold David in our love and care, and will share news of ways we can help, and of services if they are planned.

David and I were just texting on Monday, and sharing some fun and delightful memories of childhood, snow, food, pets, traditions. From our exchange, I know that he and Tom had a beautiful last day together.

David also encouraged me to share some ideas as I had done during Advent. I’d already been considering doing this, so I got busy looking for a way to celebrate the 40 days of Lent for UUs.

Although we do not observe Lent as a sacrament, and the majority of UUs are not Trinitarian even if Christian, it touches upon practices that pre-date Christianity and that occur in many spiritual paths. Self-discipline and self-awareness are especially significant this year. Most of us have been forced to give up some things, and to forego pleasures: dining out; travel; visits with extended family; even simple things like browsing the aisles at the supermarket. Could I really be asking you to “give up” something else for Lent?

Yes and no.

You don’t have to practice self-denial unless you think it would be helpful. Simply using these forty days to increase your proximity to God, the Holy, to your own Wisdom is more than enough.

I will be sending you a missive each day based upon a word assigned by some UU folks who enjoy Lent. It will include a photo and a few brief thoughts.

As ever, feel free to ignore them if they aren’t your thing, or let us know if you’d rather not receive them!

This is today's word: “Holy”. The rest will come by e-mail.

Over twenty years ago, I took the Buddhist vows. They are simple, yet meaningful enough that one can work on them for a lifetime and not completely understand them. What I remember about that morning is that I was on retreat with my teachers, Caitriona and Michele, at Manzanita Village in San Diego County. It was about a two-hour drive from my home in Riverside. I learned about them from some friends I had started practicing meditation with, Charlie and Richard. We met weekly at their home for sitting practice. I met Charlie when she and I were in a group of homeschool parents.

Taking the vows is called “taking refuge.” One takes refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the sangha. Each of these three entities is essential to the novitiate. Even if you take refuge as a layperson, you make a promise to honor and strive to obey the 5 precepts. Put simply, they are:

No killing

No stealing

No sexual misconduct

No lying

No intoxicants

These vows can be understood very strictly (no killing means vegetarian diet) or more openly, as intentions or goals. But there is an expectation that they will be recited with others at least once every three months. I failed to keep that promise and the others in so many ways that by the end of one year I could no longer claim to be a Buddhist. Nonetheless, Buddhist practice, study, and meditation are precious to me, and are the spiritual practice to which I return.

Buddhism is less a religion than a psychology. I find it compatible with Unitarian Universalism, and in fact, a much-needed complement, because our faith does not offer an easily accessible spiritual practice to support our individual and collective enterprise.

I also love the five precepts! Even though I fail at them constantly, I find the expression of them, especially as interpreted by Manzanita Village CLICK HERE inspiring and worthy of my striving. I say this to tell you that you don’t have to be “a Buddhist” to benefit from the forms and practices.

This Sunday, I will speak about the idea of community: the sangha, and the five hindrances to mindfulness. I invite you to think about the many communities you are a part of, from bowling leagues to storytellers, and what if any “precepts” or guidelines, written or unwritten, that pertain.

See you Sunday,

Cynthia

Helene Young, at 101, visiting our UU Congregation in 2016. She is the sister of Peace Pilgrim, who walked all over the United States to promote peace and harmony.

First, many thanks to those of you who attended our virtual service this Sunday. I hope you enjoyed meeting Michele and hearing about her creative process. She sent me a note later saying: “What a lovely service and group.
Thank you for making me a part of that. Sweet dialogue in the breakout room.
Take care and much love,
Michele”

What I love about GNUUC is that I feel confident that you would welcome and appreciate our guests. Your openness to new and different ideas is impressive. Although it may seem like a no-brainer that we UUs would be curious and affirming, we are also opinionated, and outspoken. I am so grateful to have been working with you, and I feel a sense of grief and loss that it has been nearly a year since we’ve been together, shared a meal, exchanged hugs and greetings, laughed and listened to one another.

I don’t know about you, but I have felt unexpectedly sad since January. It’s true that the political situation has improved dramatically, yet at the same time, so much damage has been done to what we may have perceived as our democratic institutions that is is breathtaking to assess.

I’ll be talking with you in February about “Beloved Community”: how we can continue to persevere as a community within larger spheres of connection, and I welcome your input. I’m continuously astonished at the ways you’ve found to stay in touch with and support one another!

Meanwhile, I think a great deal about the eldest in our society. I was surprised to learn that more than one-third of COVID deaths have occurred in nursing homes and long-term care facilities. Along with the inequities and the racism that has been made manifest, a blatant disregard for our elders is now apparent.

I have always loved old people. Now that I’m becoming an old person, I understand that we may be diminished physically but that we are fully ourselves as long as we live. Even those who struggle with dementia are no less fully human.

Today we learned of the death of Sir Thomas Moore, the British man who at age 100 raised 45 million dollars for the Health service. He succumbed to the coronavirus, but he proved that you can make a difference in some way even at 100. It’s a feel-good story, but it matters. We don’t need to raise millions of dollars; just making a difference in one person’s life is worth celebrating.

I had the opportunity to meet a woman who was still living alone, riding her bicycle daily, and playing piano at age 101 when I served the UU Congregation of the South Jersey Shore. She also died this past week at age 105.

Helene Young was the sister of Peace Pilgrim, a woman who dedicated her life to walking across the country and advocating for peace. CLICK HERE to read more about her. Her sister died in 1981, but Helene worked to preserve her legacy for another forty years. Spending an afternoon with her was a precious opportunity, and made a difference in how I think of “old” age.

Helene attended our UU services from time to time, saying that if she did join a church it would be the UU Church, but she wasn’t one for organized religion.

One thing Michele and Caitriona remind us of in our Buddhist meditation is the presence of the ancestors. They are a part of us, in spirit as well as genetically. We call upon the ancestors for strength.

Today, we have living treasures among us, people who still remember WW2, people who lived long before cell phones, computers, and even television. Can you make contact with an elder, either in our church community or elsewhere, and listen to their stories? It usually takes just a question or two to get started. Let me know if you do!

Remembering,

Cynthia

Visiting Helene at home with Colby Tippins, a member of the UU Congregation of the South Jersey Shore, in 2016

I have been doing the same thing most of you have been doing this morning.

Watching… and sobbing. I know this Inauguration and change of power in our government does not alter many of the things that we as liberals still must stand against. Racism, capitalist greed, voter suppression, climate change, on & on.

But today feels like a breather.

Today we can celebrate the fact that humanity, decency, and integrity still exist.

I know liberals, and I know how cynical we can be. But just for this time, let’s allow the words of the beautiful, talented Amanda Gorman, a 22-year-old poet who like Biden (and me) overcame a speech impediment, as she both faces the harsh reality of what happened just 2 weeks ago and offers a glimmer of hope. CLICK HERE to listen again, or if you missed her amazing poem.

When I returned to ministry from semi-retirement, it was in no small part due to a feeling that there must be something I could do to give people hope, to provide a container for people to get through what was a more and more harrowing series of national events.

But whatever I thought I was doing, what happened was that you saved me. You helped me with your kindness, your warm welcome, your understanding and patience with me, even as we’ve faced this oxymoron called “virtual ministry.” You renewed my faith not just in human nature, but in liberal religion and in Unitarian Universalism.

I thank you, and I love you all.

Cynthia

My elder granddog (Gia, age 13) visiting the farm. One thing we can all agree on: puppies are cute.

Dear, dear people:

I, like you (I assume), have been inundated with a barrage of images, sounds, facts, lies, opinions, and prognostication about the Insurrection of January 6th. Perhaps like me, you weren’t surprised. Maybe you were shocked only that there was so little preparation, so little defense. As your Minister, I don’t need to tell you how to feel or, for that matter, to repeat or curate what you’ve already read or considered.

Here’s what I would love to suggest:

This event should have horrified all of us. But those of us who experienced childhood trauma may be particularly affected by the news of this past week. Why? Many reasons. Childhood trauma, even when dealt with, creates deep wounds in us that must be acknowledged. In much the same way that certain sounds and signals re-traumatize vets with PTSD, violence of the past week took many of us to a place where we’d been betrayed, bullied, violated, abused, and attacked with words and actions.

For me, those insurrectionists (I feel like that word gives them too much credit, since they were more of an angry mob) triggered every memory of white, entitled men (and these are NOT ALL MEN, in fact they’re a minority) who’ve intimidated, demeaned, and objectified me. Behind the subtle “humor” and good-natured “kidding” lies a rage that can be unleashed at any moment. Women, people of color, marginalized people, and many men know this.

Furthermore, some of us were not just the bullied but were also the bullies. We like to think we are nothing like those people. But if we are honest we all have a rageful, vengeful, maybe even a violent self somewhere in us. I know I do. It’s not the place I order my life from, but it can come out if I think I’m defending something or someone I deeply believe in.

So. We may regress in some ways that surprise us. Eating too much or unhealthfully. Slipping away from routines that we rely upon to stay healthy and steady. Watching too much TV or spending all day on the phone “doom-scrolling,” as one pundit called it. I found myself retreating into a documentary about Scientology on Netflix.

A colleague mentioned on social media that a HS classmate had contacted her on LinkedIn. She was aghast that he clearly disremembered having taunted her for being Jewish and had even put a swastika on her locker. She wondered what to do. Some replies suggested she ignore him, others that she confront him.

I didn’t have a suggestion about what to do, but applauded her for being vulnerable and reaching out to us. Colleagues she knew well, and others, like me, she knew mostly online. Her post gave me the incentive to think about my own responses, and also to think about ways I might have been complicit in bullying long ago. No, I didn’t paint swastikas or anything like that, but bullying takes many forms.

Reach out. Try to take care of yourself, but don’t pile judgment on top of shame by scolding yourself if you don’t. Avoid people who make you feel worse. Join your church family, even if you don’t feel like it. Someone else may be encouraged by seeing you there. I love you!

Cynthia

Our new grandpuppy, Haze! Her older sister Gia is completely traumatized.