Rev. Dr. Michael Tino
Lead Ministry Team, Church of the Larger Fellowship

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The results of the 2024 U.S. Presidential Election have been devastating for many of us. The election of Donald Trump to a second term as President is more than worrying for all of us grounded in a commitment to love and liberation — we know that his fascist and authoritarian agenda threatens the lives and well-being of many of us and our beloveds. The following message was shared online by Rev. Dr. Michael Tino on the day after the election.

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November 6, 2024

Beloveds,

I am trembling today with grief and fear. I am finding it hard to breathe, even as I force myself to focus on ways of breathing meant to calm my body. I hugged my child extra long this morning as she left for school—it was all I could do at that moment.

I am reminded again and again of my relative privilege right now. My BIPOC friends remind me that this is exactly who the United States has always been. It doesn’t make it easier. I am mourning a nation that has never really existed, and knowing that doesn’t make the grief less.

Perhaps you are feeling some of this, too. Please know that you are not alone.

At some point, we will figure out what we need to do next to protect those who are most vulnerable right now. At some point, we will be part of a movement to save the lives of those who are threatened by the fascist agenda that won the day in yesterday’s US elections. That doesn’t need to be today (even if we know it’s coming).

Right now, I am reminding myself that I am part of a faith grounded in love. A faith that always has been and always will be profoundly counter-cultural. I am leaning on my faith ancestors to guide me, and I am trusting that my faith community will rise to the challenge presented to us.

I invite you to pray with me (or center yourself, or meditate):

O love that will not let us go, remind us of your presence now.
Remind us of your power now.
Remind us of your tenacity now.
Fill us with your strength that we might know ourselves connected to a love greater than we can imagine.
For we will need that love as we move forward together. Amen.

Yours in faith,
Rev. Michael

Christina Rivera
Lead Ministry Team, Church of the Larger Fellowship

Family is one of those topics that can be both celebrated and filled with tension. Sometimes at the same time! It can bring to mind images of parents, children, siblings—those bound by blood or marriage. And within a liberatory theology, family is something more. It can be a chosen, dynamic, and inclusive concept that welcomes all, just as we are. When we speak of family as Unitarian Universalists, we are called to expand our definition beyond the typical Western idea of family. We are called to understand that family is not something we have but something we build, together.

Western culture is generally considered to be an “I” culture. These cultures have characteristics in which the person is the center and include the idealized version of the nuclear family: mother, father, children. However, if we just scratch the surface of Western culture, we find the vast influences of the global Southern majority and our “We” cultures, in which the community is the center. A “We” culture includes chosen family, identity families, and community family. And while “We” culture is not as widely acknowledged; it is more widely practiced.

The exciting news is that our newly affirmed UU values centering Love, Justice, Equity, Transformation, Pluralism, Interdependence, and Generosity can help us in our framing of family. Family doesn’t have to be confined to those who share our DNA but rather, it can embrace those who share in the journey of life with us. In this sense, family is a covenant of love and support, a relationship defined by care, mutual respect, and shared commitment.

And in thinking about that covenant of love and looking at the “I” culture of family, we can see how it can feel limiting and sometimes even harmful. We must ask ourselves: what about those who don’t fit that mold? What about those who find their deepest sense of belonging in friendships, in chosen family, in their communities? What about family who have hurt us?

I think some of those questions can be answered if we look to the lessons from “We” culture. A culture in which family can be the person who sits beside you during difficult times, the neighbor who cares for your children when you’re in need, or the community that rallies around you in times of celebration or sorrow. These relationships are just as sacred, just as valuable, as those bound by biology.

In fact, they may be more intentional and powerful precisely because they are chosen. And they have the added benefit of being able to ask harmful people to move away from community for the time it takes for them to heal and take responsibility for actions. This isn’t a shunning, but rather in the best practice of family, accompanied by non-affected individuals, the person doing harm can have support while they seek to address the issues which led them to harm.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that “We” cultures have it all figured out and that everything is perfect and rosy. Harm still happens, conflict still exists. But still — no one is thrown away. No one is beyond the hope of God’s love. We simply understand that we don’t need to participate in harm by saying, “oh, that person is family so that’s why they get to keep doing what they do and hurting people.” Rather we say, “you need some time out of community with some folks who can help you heal so that you don’t continue to harm others.” It doesn’t always work, and that is the beauty of our UU commitment to covenant. We can keep practicing so that we do better the next time.

At its heart, family—whether born or chosen—is a covenant. It is a promise to care for one another, to show up when it’s hard, to forgive, and to grow together. As a UU community, we strive to model this kind of covenant at the CLF. We strive to be a  place where individuals find the family they may not have experienced in their own lives. It is within these sacred spaces that we nurture one another, celebrate milestones, and bear witness to life’s sorrows and challenges. Our Unitarian Universalist values challenge us to constantly examine and dismantle systems of oppression that prevent people from forming families in ways that reflect their truth. Whether it’s advocating for marriage equality, defending reproductive rights, naming the ongoing genocide in Gaza, or ensuring access to healthcare and childcare, we are called to create a world where every family can thrive. We must continually ask ourselves: Who is the “We” we are talking about and centering? Who is being left out? How can we do better?

In my own life, I have found that family is not something that has stayed exactly the same from season to season. It is one that changes and requires constant attention, love, and patience. We never get it 100% right, we are always asking for grace.

In the end, family, like justice, is love made visible. It is the place where we practice our Unitarian Universalist values, where we learn what it means to live in covenant with one another. Whether through birth, choice, or circumstance, we are all called to create and nurture families that reflect the beauty of our shared humanity. And in doing so, we honor that divine spark of the holy which is within each of us and live into the beloved community that is at the heart of our faith. So say we all and amen.

AISHA HAUSER
Lead Ministry Team, Church of the Larger Fellowship

One of the most impactful trips I have ever been on in my life was with a friend to Olympic National Park in Washington State, specifically the Ancient Forest, an area that dates back to pre-contact, when only the indigenous people lived and thrived on this land, before the arrival of European settlers.

We were completely cut off from any of the digital and online life we were living. Being this off the grid took a bit of getting used to, however I quickly found something shifting in my physical body and my emotional state.

I felt calmer and inching closer to feeling relaxed. I hadn’t fully appreciated that there is a different kind of relaxation one feels when fully unplugged from anyone who isn’t in your physical presence.

Going into the ancient forest helped ground me while paradoxically allowing me to become more expansive at the same time. 

Old growth and ancient grown forest ground contains layers upon layers of flora and fauna. In fact, the word “flora” means goddess in Latin. How fitting that divinity is part of the naming of these natural and sacred living entities.

The quiet of the forest is not silent. There is the rustling of the trees, the sound of a stream, birds chirping and the muffled sounds of our feet along the forest floor.

I felt myself release tension as I walked.

I placed my palms on the trees, leaning on them for comfort and solace.

It was truly a cleansing experience, a forest bath.

According to the National Geographic website:

The term emerged in Japan in the 1980s as a physiological and psychological exercise called shinrin-yoku (“forest bathing” or “taking in the forest atmosphere”). The purpose was twofold: to offer an eco-antidote to tech-boom burnout and to inspire residents to reconnect with and protect the country’s forests.

While the term ‘forest bathing’ may be relatively recent, humans have found ways to heal and cleanse while communing with nature throughout millenia.

Jesus prayed at the foot of olive trees in the Garden of Gethsemane.

The Bodhi tree also known as the Wisdom Tree is believed to be where the Buddha found enlightenment.

Integral to Pagan practices are communing with nature often among the trees.

While I did not find enlightenment during my time in the ancient forest, what I did find was a deeper connection to myself and the earth. 

Rev. Dr. Michael Tino
Lead Ministry Team, Church of the Larger Fellowship

Recently, I’ve heard more and more people wondering what is the place of covenant and accountability in Unitarian Universalism. In some circles, they have become almost dirty words–signs that we are somehow abandoning the individualist faith that so many people mistakenly think we are. And yet, both of these concepts are central to our faith.

Covenant consists of the sacred promises we make to one another. It is not a fixed set of beliefs, but rather a living understanding of how we are in community together. Covenants define the practices of Unitarian Universalism as well as what we are striving to create together.

As a faith movement, our congregations are bound to each other in covenant. That covenant is expressed in Article 2 of the Unitarian Universalist Association by-laws. It lives there because covenants and by-laws, unlike creeds, are meant to be changeable. As our understanding of our faith deepens, as our understanding of our world develops, and as the circle of our faith widens to welcome in those who have too long been marginalized, we must adapt the promises that hold us together.

And so it is that our covenant has been updated recently. Rather than simply asking our congregations to “affirm and promote” principles (a phrase that I came to see as the faith analog of the meaningless phrase “thoughts and prayers”), our new covenant asks us to engage in specific actions to live our faith in the world. It asks us to understand power, how it is abused to lead to oppression and exploitation, and to actively work to dismantle those things in our world. It asks us to commit to changing, growing, and repairing damaged relationships. It asks us to create fully accessible and inclusive communities, and to embrace our differences as we learn from one another.

These are good promises, solid promises that, if we keep them, will help us center our faith in love and live from the values we claim: justice, equity, transformation, pluralism, interdependence, and generosity.

But what if we don’t keep our promises?

That’s where accountability comes in.

In 1646, the congregations in the New England colonies brought delegates together to discuss how they would be governed. The 1648 Cambridge Platform has served since then as the basis for what we call “congregational polity,” the way in which Unitarian Universalist congregations still come together. Even in 1648, congregations realized that one of their responsibilities to each other was to be able to hold each other accountable to the practices and ideals of their faith.

How this happens has changed a lot since 1648, but it has not ceased to be part of the relationship among congregations. We are collectively responsible for the covenant of our faith. And so, we have to be collectively responsible for asking our sibling UUs to be accountable to that covenant.

Accountability does not mean punishment, nor does it mean banishment, like so many people seem to fear. It does mean that we are allowed to ask each other to do better. It means that we are allowed to point out when each others’ actions fall short of the values we claim. Yes, it might mean that we are going to have to get used to giving and receiving constructive, loving criticism.

For too long, our faith has been mired in a hyper-individualism that is good for no one. We are not the faith where, as some claim, one can believe or do whatever one wants to. We are instead a faith where we proudly center our interdependence with one another, a faith that insists that none of us are in this alone.

In the back of our hymnal is an uncredited (anonymous) reading that blesses us with these words: “May we know once again that we are not isolated beings, but connected, in mystery and miracle, to the universe, to this community, and to
each other.”

To these words, I add this: May our connection to each other be grounded in covenant. May it be a connection of mutual accountability and growth. May it be a connection that helps us all live with love at the center of our lives. 

Companioning One Another Through These Times

by Nicole Pressley
Organizing Strategy Director, Side With Love – Unitarian Universalist Association

On November 15, 2015, the Minneapolis Police Department killed a black man named Jamar Clark. That night, community members, organizers, and activists formed an encampment outside the Fourth Precinct to demand the release of the body camera footage and justice for Jamar Clark. For 20 days, as the Minnesota winter set in, businesses, organizations, unions, and people came together to build and sustain community. Meals were served, warm clothing was provided, and systems of care, security, and conflict resolution were designed. People danced. People sang. And people preached.

On a very late night, as many of us huddled under the propane heaters donated by the Sierra Club, Rev. Danny Givens preached a sermon about Henrietta Lacks, a black woman whose cells were used without her consent to lead to breakthroughs in science. He called us to remember the many ways in which that violation of black bodies feeds heteropatriarchal capitalism. He invited us into the powerful call to ground our work demanding justice for Jamar Clark in a broader demand to dismantle state violence and commit ourselves to black liberation.

This was the beginning of my journey into Unitarian Universalism. Rev. Danny Givens worked at Unity Church in St. Paul. At this encampment, I experienced “church” and activism in a new and powerful way that transformed my relationship to both. In my prior experience, sermons were delivered from ornate pulpits in the comfort of a building, not on a cold wet street under the threat of arrest and violence from police and white supremacists. The primary subjects were usually men whose stories felt too far away to be easily relevant to the struggles I find to be critical, as a black queer woman. Instead, he elevated the story of a black woman. Instead of focusing on salvation as a reward for our good deeds after death, he opened us up to the possibility of transformation and liberation as an urgent spiritual and political practice.

I reflected on this moment recently as I stood in solidarity with students at their encampment at Northeastern University. I was in Boston because I had the honor of being the respondent to the Minns Lecture, an annual Unitarian Universalist theological presentation, offered by Rev. Jason Lydon a few days previous. Rev. Jason spoke about the UU Service Committee’s National Moratorium on Prison Construction. He opened his remarks with the connection between the police violence against students on Emerson College’s campus and that of the cruelty of the prison system.  At the Shabbat service that followed the early morning raid and arrests of Northeastern students, attendees discussed the police repression on Emory’s campus and at Stop Cop City actions in Atlanta. In the midst of this political action, the U.S. Supreme Court heard a case on the criminalization of encampments of unhoused people across the country. With the Court’s ruling in favor of criminalization, students at elite universities and their unhoused neighbors will sit in the same jails, with the same charges, and for different reasons with vastly different resources. I think about how our jails will fill with trans people, medical professionals, and people seeking abortions, because life-saving care is also criminalized.

“If they take you in the morning, they will be come for us that night.”
—James Baldwin

Baldwin wrote these words on November 19, 1970 in a letter to Angela Davis in solidarity after her arrest. These words are not a warning like those we usually hear, “you’ll be next,” or, “first they came for…”. It is an understanding. Baldwin knows, deeply, that being targeted by the state can happen to anyone who finds themselves out of favor with those in power. LGBTQ, BIPOC, and disabled people, union organizers, sex workers, the unhoused, even women in bathing suits have found themselves the target of state based violence.

Criminalization as a tactic is not new, yet under increasingly fascist conditions in this country, we may find the connections between our struggles more easily.

As I wrote in this year’s 30 Days of Love, a project of the UUA’s Side with Love campaign: “before criminalization becomes a political tactic of disconnection and domination, it is first a spiritual acquiescence to dehumanization and disposability. We deny a moral mandate of mutuality in search of the protection of power over others.” Too often, we take up solidarity in a reaction to a threat. We use it as a political strategy, attempting to build larger coalitions as a means to pass or block legislation or win some other material demand for our communities. I hope that instead, like Baldwin, we can begin to know in our bones that our liberation is inextricably bound — that maybe, we are not just all we have, but we, together, are all we need. 

My childhood consisted of navigating what it meant to grow up Egyptian in America. My mother spoke only in Arabic, and she very much passed on the traditions of our culture to my sister and me. She cooked delicious Egyptian meals, told us stories from her childhood and she taught us the ways to be a good Muslim, in an effort to raise us as devout as she was.

One of the lessons that I embody from my childhood is that of generosity. Not only of money, but also of spirit. The Muslim faith mandates generosity and giving to those who have less.

While I have never been a devout Muslim the way my mother still is, I remember that she donated money every year to help feed poor Muslims during the Eid (the feast marking the end of the holy month of Ramadan). She did this even when we were on public assistance. One year, I let her know that I thought we didn’t have enough to give to others, but she responded  that since the government was helping us, we were mandated to help others.

My mother and I have had our share of disagreements and challenges over the years, but her spirit of generosity is one lesson that I have held dear and been grateful for, and that I try to replicate. In my personal life, this is something that I have easily embraced. This is not something that is as prevalent in modern U.S. society.

It has been more than a little disheartening to witness the dialogue about student debt forgiveness and universal basic income. I have heard people lament that they had to pay off their debt, so why should anyone else be “let off the hook.” When I bring up universal basic income people immediately dismiss it as unrealistic and one person asked me what the incentive would be to work. I responded by asking what the incentive is now. Is it death? Is that really the society we want to maintain? Don’t we want to support people not only living, but thriving and experiencing joy and creativity in ways that nourish our spirits?

These are just two examples of the ways I experience a lack of generosity of spirit in the United States. We find ways to make people “earn a living.” Instead of affirming the value and inherent worth of every person by offering a universal basic income, universal healthcare and free college education (thereby preventing student debt to begin with), this country asserts a scarcity mentality and creates barriers for thriving.

There is no reason to live this way except the stories we tell ourselves. While I know that the idea of transforming our systems is daunting to think about, we do have it in us to practice a generosity of spirit in the ways available to us.

I have witnessed examples of mutual aid that not only centers generosity of money, but also food donations. One wonderful example is Lasagna Love (lasagnalove.org), a continental organization that pairs people who want to cook a homemade lasagna with folks who would love to receive one. What a caring and generous way to affirm community care.

If you are interested in finding out what mutual aid programs exist in your community, and you have access to the internet, you can check out Mutual Aid Hub (www.mutualaidhub.org) for a map and list of organizations. The website hosts the networks across the United States, the organizers want to connect people but they do not vet or endorse any of the programs; please research once you find one you would be interested in.

These are ways that communities are embracing a generosity of spirit and community care. These initiatives feed my spirit and offer hope for the ways that society is already shifting to one that rejects scarcity and embraces abundance.

Perhaps you have seen the widespread cartoon image that illustrates the difference between “equality” and “equity” [above]. First drawn in 2012 by Dr. Craig Froehle, it shows two panels. In each, three people of varying heights are trying to watch a baseball game over a fence, and they have three crates to stand on. In the scenario labeled “equality,” everyone gets one crate, which allows the tallest person to tower over the fence, but the smallest person still can’t see the game. In the scenario labeled “equity,” the crates are distributed so that everyone can see over the fence.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this cartoon as Unitarian Universalists discuss naming equity as one of the core values of our faith. Specifically, I’ve been thinking about why there is a wooden fence in the first place, and about all of the people in the stands whose access to the game doesn’t depend on the distribution of crates.

If someone were to attend the game in a wheelchair, they’d need more than crates to see over the fence. They’d need an expensive ticket, and a ballpark policy that carves out appropriate and desirable places for wheelchairs to be. (It is purely coincidental but illustrative that this week, a friend who uses a wheelchair and loves baseball took to Facebook to decry the ways in which several major league teams make it harder for him to attend games by putting additional steps in place if one wants to buy a wheelchair-accessible seat.)

It seems to me that true equity is that everyone has access to the game in a way that fits their bodies and brains and not their wallets or the willingness of someone to give them a temporary boost.

It wasn’t until I decided to write about this cartoon, though, that I learned that its original creator researches inequities in healthcare. This makes the difference between getting into the ballpark and trying to see over the fence even more stark. For too many people, inequity leads to death.

I have hope that our Unitarian Universalist embrace of equity will be deeper and more meaningful than a cartoon. Part of the proposed language for what would be our core values reads that “we covenant to use our time, wisdom, attention, and money to build and sustain fully accessible and inclusive communities.”

If we are really serious about equity, then, we will work to make our communities—inside and outside of our congregations—fully accessible and inclusive.

This means accessible and inclusive to all bodies. This means accessible and inclusive to different ways that brains work. This means accessible and inclusive to people with different financial means. That means accessible and inclusive to people with histories of trauma and also those who are imprisoned.

It also means that Unitarian Universalists are called to understand ourselves as part of accessible and inclusive communities, so that when we build structures that allow everyone to be part of things, they don’t come across as unfair or unequal.

Have you ever complained that someone else got a crate to see over the fence, even if you didn’t need one?  Sadly, over my years as a minister I’ve fielded way too many similar complaints.

Instead, let us tear down that fence and let everyone into the game. Let’s create space where we can all have the place we need to participate, and where we don’t resent the full participation of others.

What does it mean to value equity? How does it look?

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Darrell
CLF Member, incarcerated in CA

To be honest, at first I thought this theme might be about real estate. Then my mind switched gears and I began to grasp the foundational meaning of the word equity — value! Upon taking the backseat of my life’s vehicle (I tend to let the Universe do the driving nowadays), I’ve become more conscious of our society in regards to our behavior towards ourselves and others.

When I was in my late teens, an older guy once told me, “people that live in lower class environments are blind to their true worth and potential.” Hopefully this same individual has come to the realization that this imaginary blindfold can be worn by individuals from all walks of life, expanding all over the planet. Do we exhibit self-value when we fill our bodies up with harmful narcotics? Are we expressing our self-value by overindulging and drinking alcoholic beverages? Is self-value being shown by the clothes we wear, cars we drive, people we socialize with, and the amount of money we possess? What is self-value anyway?  Does self-value (or acknowledging that you have self-value) determine how you treat or value others?

Someone asked me a few years ago if I would rather be loved or valued. What a profound question! Not knowing the meaning of self-value back then, I decided to choose love, because I was ten times more familiar with its existence. If you were to ask me that same question right now, I would say both — but overall, I would rather be valued.

Why? Consider the society that we all are experiencing together. This country runs off capitalism. I hear people say, “money isn’t everything,” and I would concur. But let’s be honest with ourselves for a moment: everything you need to survive in this society only becomes available through the exchange of currency (food/clothing/shelter). This economy has a strong influence over its inhabitants that leads them to place value on people, places, and things when, in all actuality, the majority of those objects (or subjects) have no value at all.

Let’s face it, everybody might not love their boss, but we all value our paycheck because it helps pay our bills, provides clothes for our children, keeps gas in our cars, and so on and so on. This emotion that we call love can be fleeting at times. We all know what it feels like but half of us have a hard time expressing it, because of fear of getting hurt or it not being reciprocated. Some of us don’t even know what love looks like when other people display it to us through their actions. I see way more conditional love then I see unconditional love (which is true love).

This is my suggestion on what I believe this country needs to place value in: God/higher power/nature/knowledge/wisdom/and understanding of various aspects of the Universe and how we correlate to them. We need to place value in our physical well-being, mental well-being, emotional and spiritual well-being and the well-being of our Mother Earth. We need to place value in positive, powerful, and uplifting beliefs about ourselves and others, and build a positive attitude towards life, self, and others. We need to value unconditional love, family ties, real friends, discovering one’s purpose in life — and so much more.

As I continue to build equity in my life experience, I am forced to go with the flow of the collective consciousness that sees value in some of the most ridiculous things. I will never confirm their beliefs, nor will I condemn them. I will only adapt and use my awareness of this knowledge in a way that will empower me and along the path towards true prosperity. We are all more than worthy!  

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Kathleen
CLF member, incarcerated in VA

First, let us look at what equity means.. Webster’s dictionary defines equity as: the quality, state, or ideal of being just, fair and impartial. The first thing that stands out to me in that definition is the word ideal. I’ve been feeling a lot lately that as Americans, we are not living up to our ideals, equity being one of them. I feel that this is because we are often alienated from one another due to our so-called differences. I think that equity means putting aside our differences and looking through them, to the throbbing, pulsing, living divinity that exists in each one of us.

Equity means that I want for you what I want for myself. Equity is not selfish. As a trans woman of color, I think the more we fight for equity, the more it becomes exacerbated in the media, and people become fatigued by slogans. Many people are tired of hearing us rally for justice in an unjust world. So what do we do, where do we turn?

I think the key is trying to relate to each person, even when they do not want to relate to us – whoever they are. Because in the big picture, it really isn’t us vs. them. It’s just us. I think it’s time for the world to see that.  

Seamus Vonn-Jernigan
CLF member, incarcerated in OR

 

Oh Great Creator,

We are humbled to have been created by you and to witness your creativity flow through us daily. We understand that we are your instruments of peace, play and innovation, and intend to funnel your imagination through our very existence.

We are your hands, that sculpt the clay and paint the canvas.

We are your eyes, that capture a photograph and perfect a design.

We are your ears, listening to the harmonies among the song of birds, crash of waves, cries of babies and the wisp of the wind.

We are your feet, that dance across the stage, and your arms, that conduct a symphony.

We are your words, that form haiku and fill pages to create great novels.

We are your voice, that sings in the choir and whispers our prayers
at night.

We are your laugh, that fosters joy and heals our souls.

We are your mind, that seeks the truth and guides us to think
objectively.

We are your heart, that allows us to love our neighbors and forgive our enemies.

We are your spirit, that shepherds us to share peace and compassion with each person we meet and to extend grace to all, especially those who appear to deserve it the least, as they need it the most.

We are your creation, and your creativity lives on through us.

What we dream in our minds, help us to believe in our hearts. What we believe in our hearts, help us to cultivate in our lives.

In the name of the Great Creator,

Amen.

Thomas
CLF Member, incarcerated in IN

 

When I think about transformation, I often think of when people say they had a “transformational experience,” or when, as religious professionals, we look for the ways in which ministry can be transformational for our congregants.

And it gets me thinking: What is all this transformation about? In my experience, a lot of people really don’t like change. Even people who say they want to be “transformed” also can really not like change! Why would we seek that which we can’t actually embrace? I tend to think it is because our entire human experience is leading to an ultimate transformation which we cannot know the result: death. So sometimes we are, at best, ambivalent, and other times outright hostile to change.

Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower is one of my favorite books about Change. Because in the book she explores the idea that God is not some distant almighty spirit, but rather the very up close and real experience of Change (capital C.) What an exciting idea to explore! Her most often quoted refrain from the book, and that which the central characters revolve, is “All that you touch You Change. All that you Change Changes you. The only lasting truth is Change. God is Change.”

When I first read that phrase as a young adult, it blew my mind! I loved it. I loved the capitalizations which conveyed the idea that what we’re reading in the capitalized word carried with it the reverence of the word God. Here was a religion I could get behind. The idea that I could continually be both transformational and transformed?! Wow!

This idea helped me look at the changes in my young adult life in a new way. It helped me realize that while there was change that I couldn’t control, I could still make that change part of my life. And it helped me realize that I had a deep responsibility for the Change that I created in the world. That Butler chose to capitalize the Y in “All that you touch You Change” was something I thought about frequently. That I continue to think about when faced with difficult situations and decisions.

In Parable of the Sower, the people who couldn’t change, couldn’t adapt, those who desperately clung to racism, sexism, and fascism, did not survive the new climate changed landscape. They met the ultimate Transformation while resisting the very changes which could have helped their survival. And when I think about the difficulties we face as Unitarian Universalists, I think about what it is we are resisting and could those things be the very things that can prepare us for survival?

In creating the community structures of Parable of the Sower, Butler relies heavily on the community building foundations seen in the “We” culture communities in which she was raised. “We” culture communities in the U.S. are most often found in Black, Latinx, Asian, and Indigenous peoples as well as other BIPOC communities. Among many “We” cultural values, most strikingly, the requirement of putting group needs ahead of the individual needs is foundational in Parable of the Sower.

So I wonder: What would it look like to put the needs of our entire faith community ahead of our individual needs? What are the needs of Unitarian Universalism at large? How do we meet those needs even when it feels like we are not getting what we want as individuals? This feels a lot like the conversations which are going on right now around the proposed changes to the UU Principles and Sources, often referred to as Article II.

As we’ve written about in recent issues of Quest, our denomination is in the process of adopting new language to articulate and ground our faith community. This new language is framed as seven UU values: Justice, Equity, Transformation, Pluralism, Interdependence, Generosity and Love.

I wonder if haven’t we actually already made these changes in spirit. Haven’t we already touched, and thus Changed how we practice Unitarian Universalism? What if the proposed changes — the new UU values — are simply the language catching up to the spirit of Unitarian Universalism?

Perhaps we have already touched and been Changed. Because in the end, Change cannot be successfully resisted but it certainly can be influenced. And we can do so together. ′

How do we remain open to change and transformation?

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JACK
CLF Member, incarcerated in MA

Transforming is the action of changing every day, and each and every one of us is witness to transforming experiences whether we know it or not.

For those of us in prison: we meet new inmates, new staff. We are exposed to expressions of concern, love, happiness, sadness, sorrow, and even fear. Every one of our senses meets something new or different, something we had not noticed before, something we had not heard before or smelled before, and we can be open to being transformed by them.

So often we think over the years that nothing is new, and prison life never changes; one day in prison can seem like any other. You know what day it is only by what food is served. But each day is new, each day is different. Each day has the opportunity for us to think differently, discover something new, something we didn’t know before. You may discover someone you had only passed in the hall, someone different from those you talk with every day.

Journaling is one of the best ways of always looking for that one thing, that one day that was new. It may be the one thing that transformed your day into something different, or that offered you the opportunity to be transformed in ways we had never thought possible. Use your senses. Look around. Let your mind out of the cell around you. Let your thoughts roam. Dare to be transformed, to welcome change.

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JACOB
CLF Member, incarcerated in AR

Being open to change and transformation is an important part of growing spiritually, maturing and succeeding in life. Transformation is to change or alter in some way shape or form. To remain open to this means to put yourself in situations, to experience new things, to learn — especially to learn of other cultures and religions and practice the knowledge you’ve gained.

By keeping your mind open, you stay open to growth, change, and transformation, but you have to want to.

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JASON
CLF member, incarcerated in IL

Transformation is an interesting word, especially for someone who has been in institutions for as long as I have.

As I write the word transformation, it makes me think of who and what I used to be. When I was younger, I was full of hate and fear. I acted impulsively and reacted to what people said or did towards me, which got me into a lot of trouble, as well as a number of fights.

Now, I’m no longer filled with hate, and though I still have some fears, they are nowhere near as bad as the ones I used to have. Now, instead of reacting to what people say or do, I take a mental step back, think things through, and then respond to them.

Now, because of the changes I have made and continue to make as I work to transform myself into the person I want to be, my life is a lot less stressful than it could be.

Frances Koziar
CLF member

Our transformations
are our own, paths we choose
but are never forced to take.

What doesn’t kill you does not
make you stronger, but—
you can choose for it to,
learn lessons from your suffering
that help you create what you believe in.

And those transformations are yours
to be proud of, no one
gets to take credit for the good inside of you
or the skills you have worked on, especially
not those who have abused you.

Because you choose your self
if not your path, and that has always
been your strength.

Kay Anderst
CLF Member, incarcerated in KS

When I read that April’s theme was Transformation, I decided that it was time to share my story with the world for the first time. 2024 is a big year for me, as I have begun the Male to Female (MtF) transition process. It took a lot of prayer and soul searching to get to where I am now.

My journey begins in rural South Dakota. My parents are immigrants, I am a first generation American. We are of Eastern European and Jewish descent, so old Testament laws and morals were imprinted into me as I grew up. There was right and there was wrong with no shades of gray or alternate choices. The result of this strict upbringing was inner turmoil as I got older. I saw that my orientation and gender identity were not compatible with what I had been taught.

How can God love me, I thought, when every thought and action I took were tainted by sin? Why did He make me so broken, so against everything He wanted mankind to be? These questions haunted me every time I tried to pray.

In my 20s I turned away from God completely, going years without a single prayer. I embraced a bisexual identity and found a measure of happiness. After a time, I figured out that I was transgender, and it was only then did the pieces start to fall into place.

I was then angry with God. How could he do this to me? Was he asleep at the switch the day I was born?

My turning point came when a woman I was dating told me something. She said that God didn’t make mistakes, and that He put me here on earth because she liked girls like me. I was like this to be there to love her. Something else she pointed out was that there were millions like me, all through history. Would God have allowed so many of us to be made if not by his will?

This happened right before I came to prison. While it helped me make the final decision to make the MtF conversion, I have spent the last 4 years in hiding, biding my time until I felt it was safe enough to come out into the light. While difficult, God has helped me through this dark time. My personal relationship with Him is the strongest it’s been in my entire life.

So now is my time for change and transformation. It’s not an overnight process; in fact it will take a couple years. I will face many challenges ahead, but I know that what I do is by design. This is what He wanted of me. This place, this prison, is no longer my place of confinement.

It is now God’s tool of transformation and change. I am right where I need to be. I will emerge from this cocoon in 2 years and like a butterfly, I will be free to live the life and be the woman he always wanted me to be.

If anyone reading this is contemplating similar choices, or has been down this road before, your welcome to share your story with me.

You may contact me at: Kay Anderst 18611-273, PO Box 1000 USP 2, Leavenworth, KS 66048.

When my daughter was nine years old, she asked me which religion was the “right one.” The reason this was even on her mind is that my children are part of an interfaith family. Their father was raised Jewish and I was raised Muslim. When we married, we had a secular wedding and for a time chose not to raise our children in either of the traditions exclusively. We thought we could get away with raising them with no religious identity. However, this turned out not to be the case.

At the time we were living in New Jersey and my children’s best friends (also siblings) attended a conservative Christian congregation. I would let my kids attend programs with them mistakenly thinking it would be benign. This changed after my daughter returned home at age 5 declaring to her Jewish father, “Jesus is the light of the world.” To which he responded, “No he’s not, we’re Jewish.”

I realized at that moment that we weren’t being intentional in how we raised our children and they were clearly wanting to engage in some kind of religious community, even at their young age. It was age appropriate, wanting to belong.

I had already known about Unitarian Universalism and promptly looked up the closest UU congregation. Thankfully, there was one just two towns away, in Ridgewood. We attended together and the rest is history.

One year later, I was the religious education coordinator for a small congregation in Orange, NJ and from there I dove deeper into the world of faith leadership, eventually becoming credentialed in religious education leadership, a long and thorough process demonstrating competencies in leadership, faith development and the UU faith, among other things.

The reason we chose a Unitarian Universalist community is that it is pluralist. UUs do not claim to be superior to any other faiths and we affirm that there are many paths to what we understand to be spirituality, whether or not that includes belief in a deity.

This is a profound and sacred notion for the modern era. Especially because it seems that the world around us is doubling down on religious extremism. Religious dominance causes intolerance of those who are of a different faith, or choose no faith at all.

Truly embracing pluralism and the freedom to coexist in the same society while maintaining your own religious identity is a transformative idea. We are witnessing in real time the impact of religious extremism, whether it is anti-trans laws that purport to “protect children” or taking away the right to bodily autonomy, this kind of thinking is oppressive at its core.

The path to a liberated society includes embracing pluralism and not holding up any one religion over another.

As for my children, they continue to be on their own path. I will not share where they are, as this is their story to tell. I will share that their values and who they are is shaped by growing up as part of a Unitarian Universalist community.

What does it mean to be pluralistic in our beliefs?

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Jack
CLF member, incarcerated in MA

Is God an old man in flowing robes with a long beard who looks down from on high? A Lord and Lady offering blessings to those in worshiping circles? A pantheon of Gods, each representing another face of a Supreme Being? Or Gaia, Mother Earth, in which we and all were created?

Is Jesus a prophet? The long awaited Messiah? A forerunner of Mohammed? An issuer of great wisdoms like the Buddha? On the son of a supreme being — but then aren’t we all sons and daughters of the Supreme Being?

Is Heaven a place of pearly gates, streets of gold, food aplenty, where we all learn to play harps and praise our God; a place where all earthly pleasures are ours? Is Hell a place of fire and brimstone, a land of ice and perpetual cold, where our earthly bodies are eternally tormented?

Is Heaven and Hell the legacy we leave behind, the kindnesses we showed, the ones we befriended, fought, touched, challenged to be better, to show love for all? Or is it the pain we left behind to be suffered generation after generation?

Does it really matter? Does it really matter how we envision a thing beyond human comprehension? Does it really matter what happens to our earthly bodies after death? Does it matter what name we use for those forces of creation?

Names come and go. Visions change as our lives change and evolve from a primitive society living on the land to a people of computers, space travel, and seeking to understand the stars.

What does matter is how we lived our lives, how we respected each other, and how we had reverence for all creation of the heavens and the earth. What does matter is not what we will gain or suffer after death but the legacy we leave for future generations. Will they show the love we shared or the pain we caused?

The future of and those who live beyond us is not written in stone—yet—but you are the sculptor with the hammer and chisel who will write it. What will you write? 

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Jacob
CLF Member, incarcerated in AR

Pluralistic is, by definition, holding to the doctrine of pluralism, which is accepting and embrace diversity in all of its forms. The act of accepting and encouraging diversity leads to a better acceptance and love for others. It helps us to remember the fact that the Divine is Love; accepting others and their differences is a step to acting in Love and embodying the true essence of Love.

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A Utopian Crucible

Lauren Silverwolf
CLF member, incarcerated in TX

Oxford defines pluralism as, “the acceptance within a society of a number of groups with different beliefs or ethnic backgrounds.” This does not sound like the world we live in today, but it does sound like somewhere I would bleed to see become a reality.

I joined the U.S. Army at the age of 18, straight out of high school. I was an Airborne Infantryman, and I swore to defend the Constitution. What I wanted was to defend the principles of being truly free, of being accepting of all who came to us, and of being what we proclaimed ourselves to be in word, although never truly in deed. I would love nothing more, and I would serve again to defend a truly pluralistic society.

I would like to introduce two more terms to define what this would look like: utopia and crucible. Again, we go to Oxford: utopia is defined as, “an imagined world or society where everything is perfect,” and crucible is defined as, “a container in which metals or other substances may be melted or heated.”

This may seem completely out of context, but think of a society like the crucible. If we melt together, we become one out of many, and if we could coexist in this manner, most of our reasons for war or violence would diminish, creating a utopia. Pluralism seems far off, to my eye at  least, but I believe it is achievable. The day we see it, we live truly in a Utopian Crucible.

Chaos and Concord battle in the collective mind.
Chaos whispers to every tribe, religion, and race

“Fear ‘the other’
They covet your power
They envy your advantage.”
She sings to each group,
“You’re the stronger, the higher, the better,
You’re the blessed. Privilege is your right.”

Concord’s small voice speaks of equity, justice and peace.

“Like us, ‘the other’ has tradition, history, community, art.
Like us, they are right to exist.”

“No,” cries Chaos.

“Only the strong, the worthy, the majority can rule.
The vote is your modern weapon for keeping them at bay.
If you cannot defeat them,
feign tolerance to hide your enmity while you bide your time.”

“Tolerance is not enough,” Concord interjects.

“We must be happy for them and their community.
Erasing a culture is not up for ballot.
We can’t hide our violence and bias behind popular votes.
It kills freedom, feeds Chaos, it is cruel.”

“Conquest and conformity,” Chaos asserts,

“is the only way to happiness.”

“Belief that, someday, all will accept the same beliefs,

the same god, the same history,
only perpetuates sadness and despair.”
Concord challenges,

“pursuit of happiness is not by forced acceptance.

Happiness grows

by being happy for each other,
by supporting each other’s spiritual growth,
by helping each other build meaning,
by trying to understand and encourage all those around us.”

May Concord’s voice be heard.

 

Recently, several people have taken the time to write to us about the ways in which we talk about Israel and Gaza, especially on our weekly talk show, Voices of Unitarian Universalism (aka The VUU). I thought that our wider community would be interested in my response.

It is correct to say that the CLF Lead Ministry Team has taken a clear stance on the current state of the conflict. We believe strongly that the preservation of life is the value that should be most paramount. I have been taught by Jewish teachers that this value is in line with the highest teachings of Judaism. We believe that all lives are worthy of preservation, even if all lives are not equally threatened by violence at present.

We also believe strongly that those with the most power to preserve life have the most obligation to do so. On a recent show of The VUU, my co-minister Christina Rivera eloquently spoke about the power imbalance present right now in Gaza, and why our stance is that Israel needs to be responsible for a cease-fire. Some have noted that Chris made them think; for this we are grateful.

We have not taken a stance on Zionism, nor will we; it is simply not our place as non-Jewish people. We understand why criticizing the actions of the State of Israel might make it seem as if we have done so, but we are clear that the actions of Israel are not on behalf of Jewish people everywhere. We have strongly opposed anti-Semitism in all of its forms, as we oppose all forms of hatred, oppression, and violence.

We have invited Jewish UUs onto the show who share our viewpoint on the abhorrent ways in which current Israeli leadership is dehumanizing Palestinians, abrogating treaty obligations, and murdering innocents. To be frank, we don’t want to feature voices who might support that. I don’t think that academically debating the term “genocide” is worthwhile as hospitals and refugee camps are being bombed. It’s a strong word on purpose.

We are committed to continuing this dialogue in the future. We are working on having Jewish UUs speak on The VUU about the ways in which anti-Semitism is rearing its ugly head around the world. When we do so, we will invite people who have been chosen by Jewish UU communities as leaders.

We hope that the CLF community appreciates the values with which we have come to these positions. We hope that you will continue to let us know how we can live out those values, when we agree and when we disagree with each other.

 

Interdependence has been a central concept to our Unitarian Universalist faith since our current principles were adopted in 1985, and yet, too often Unitarian Universalists have focused on the implications this has for our relationship with the natural world around us, without understanding that we, too, are part of that web.

What does it mean to acknowledge our place in the web of all existence?

Our Universalist ancestors taught us that we all end up in the same place when we die. Centuries ago, they meant that all souls would be in heaven, but I like to expand this theology and filter it through my scientific brain.

I am regularly stopped in my tracks by the unfathomable beauty of this notion that we are inextricably bound to one another. All of our being ends up in the very same place when we die—the same place it came from in the first place, the same pool of atoms and energy that has created all life since the formation of our Earth, the same protons and neutrons that will create all life for the duration of our planet’s existence.

We are one with the stars. With the planets. With the oceans and mountains and ice caps. With the forests and the deserts and the fauna running through them. We are also one with one another. This unity of existence has profound implications for how we live. We need to learn together to make decisions that consider the other beings with whom we share our fragile planet.

The theological notion of interdependence exists in relationship with other parts of who we are, and the most important has yet to be inserted into our principles. The most important concept that interdependence relies upon is accountability.

When we are accountable to someone or something, we hold ourselves responsible to them. When we are accountable, we allow others to measure our success. In justice work, we talk about accountability to those who are most vulnerable, those who are oppressed, those who are the targets of discrimination and hatred.

When we practice accountability in justice work, we take instructions from those who are most effected by the work we are doing.  When we practice accountability, we learn to live the tenets of interdependence.

We understand that climate change is changing our oceans. Carbon dioxide is acidifying them, hotter temperatures are melting ice and causing sea level rise. We understand that we are interdependent with the beings of the ocean, and that our fate as humanity requires that we address their fate.

What does it mean to be accountable to them, though? What does it mean to be accountable to the people of Kiribati, whose island nation is disappearing under the sea? How do we live understanding that our actions might determine whether or not they have a home in a decade?

We understand that modern agricultural systems are wreaking havoc on our planet, on its soil, on its beings, on pollinators and birds and animals. We feel our interdependence with the earth when we eat. What does it mean to be accountable to this knowledge?  How do we change our behaviors to take into account the needs of those most vulnerable to this change?

At CLF, we also understand that the addiction of dominant U.S. culture to mass incarceration is a direct descendant of the systems of oppression that founded this country. The United States began with slavery and genocide and continued into an era of terrorism at the hands of private individuals, and now it is the government itself practicing that violence.

We ask ourselves often what it means to be accountable to our incarcerated siblings, who are the targets of this violence. We ask ourselves often what it means to be accountable to Black and brown communities torn apart by systems of injustice. And now we are asking how our larger faith movement might be accountable to the voices of our incarcerated UU members. It changes the way we do things to practice that accountability.

I have heard some recently say that accountability is something they fear—because accountability requires those of us with power in this world to exercise that power as power-with, and not as power-over. It requires us to take directions, to listen, to understand relationship.

Instead of being something to fear, however, I invite us to think about accountability as the way in which we live our commitment to interdependence.

How do you relate to and honor interdependence?

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DAVID
CLF member, incarcerated in AR

I find this concept to be new and exciting. Throughout my life I’ve been taught to depend on God and family only when I need help through hard times and to help those in need, but with the undertone of looking down on them, because they didn’t have family like I did to support them. In prison, my family is not here to help me, so I must make a place in my heart for my fellow prisoners, and accept their help as I also help them.

Through sharing this newsletter and talking about what I learn through the CLF, I have found people I can create a community with, and be interdependent with. We lean on each other by learning together through this church and community in written letters. We devour our mail from the CLF as soon as we get it, and can’t wait to get a pen pal (hopefully one from Boston, since the Red Sox and the Patriots are my two favorite teams!). 

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Connectedness

JOSEPH
CLF Member, incarcerated in TX

“Every man and every woman is a star.” Those words, from Aleister Crowley’s Liber AL vel Legis, illustrates both the simplicity and complexity of the human condition. We are all special and unique, and are part of the larger cosmic dynamic set in place at creation. While special and unique, humanity must remember that they are not the center of everything, that the energy of others is necessary for vital existence.

Animism states that everything is alive and interconnected. This is true in the objective and subjective sense, in the microcosm as well as the macrocosm. We do not think twice about swatting a mosquito that bites or annoys us, but even those creatures play their part in the world. One may wonder how he/she/they are connected to the planet Jupiter, for example, as that planet is so far away from us on Earth. However, the universe is ordered. Jupiter is a sort of shield for Earth, taking hits from meteors that would end life on Earth. What benefit Jupiter receives from Earth is, as far as I know, unknown. However, because the universe is ordered, and reciprocity is one of the highest laws, one can rest assured that Jupiter also benefits.

The connectedness of humans comes through largely on the sociological scale. “People need people,” as the saying goes. However, the exchange goes far deeper than mere sociological “obligations.” People need people because nothing happens in a vacuum. We need each other to work out ideas, create the next generation, and bring about progress. These things all sound sociological, but in reality, they are the building blocks which enabled society in the first place. We not only need each other personally, we need each other professionally.

Remember, everything is alive and interconnected. As the form of creation with the highest ability to reason (as far as we know), humans are charged with recognizing our connectedness to the rest of creation, and being good stewards. Show me any religion, and I will show you the mandate for humanity’s stewardship. However, we must start with ourselves. If we cannot recognize and utilize our connectedness with each other as humans, the rest of creation will suffer.

Every human deserves the respect of every other human, and until the day this truth becomes manifest, our interdependence will remain a shadow of what it could be. Crowley’s formula, based in the Greek word Thelemn, stated: love is the law. Love under will. How strong is your will? Strong enough to hold the basic law of love? Reconcile your head and your heart, and you will find true connectedness with the rest of humanity, the world, and the universe.

Nambi Pambi
CLF member, based in TX

A girl with a curl and a ton of sass
Went
to class.

Killed in (and by) NYC,
She quit the act
To teach the facts
In Chi – Shy town.

Having no idea that even though the earth was round,
A person without a net
could still fall off.
Sissy pushed
And pushed
The stone up the hill of affiliation by achievement.

And then, She thrashed, and
She crashed, and
Her fragile health fell into a million pieces of relationships,
Broken by unavoidable need, ugly crying, and underutilized potential.
Oversharing, overcompensating, and
Overwhelming disability took care of the rest.

With characteristic persistence she fought to file down the jagged edges,
to pivot on the axes of former privilege
until they were smooth again,
And all her,
Again.

To no avail.
“If you have your health”… they say.
But what do they say next?
Now she says, some day, you’ll all understand.
Some day you will all need more than an occasional hand.

What a world we live in;
The definition of a support system,
or its politicization
or vilification
or our procrastination
because we are all so busy resisting.

Everyone has a battle to fight, a bullet to bite, a goal,
in sight.
But nonetheless,
She is going blind.
Who will be her eyes.

TIA
CLF member, incarcerated in KY

Love is the wish for all human beings to have happiness. Compassion is the wish for all human beings to be free of suffering and what causes suffering. Prejudice and being judgmental alienates us from each other. A quote from Mother Theresa captures this well: “If you judge people, you have no time to love them.”

The monk and theologian Thomas Merton also spoke to this, saying, “the whole idea of compassion is based on a keen awareness of the interdependence of all living beings, which are all part of one another and all involved in one another.”

Spiritual practices like meditation and prayer can be used as tools to calm our mind, make us more peaceful, eliminate worry, develop concentration and understanding, as well as control our anger and jealousies, and rid us of negative actions and guilt. It is a tool of transformation; by taking the time to reflect on ourselves and our faults, we can change them.

How you treat someone is dependent on you, and you are only responsible for your actions, not everyone else’s. You can choose to change or transform anything you don’t like about yourself. You choose who you are and also who you associate with.

Many of us were reminded of the central role of community and chosen family in our lives by the articles by Aisha Hauser and Christina Rivera in the most recent issue of the Worthy Now Newsletter. I was forced to create my own chosen family starting in 1990, when I was disowned by my family of origin for coming our as LGBTQ. I’m male to female transgender, and I’m not a devout Catholic, which didn’t earn me any familial credits. Since then, I’ve seen no one, and not been invited to any family functions, or been notified of any births, weddings, or deaths. Looking back at this time, my one regret is not finding the Church of the Larger Fellowship or Unitarian Universalism earlier — though I know I may not have been ready to join the community at that time, given the long spiritual journey I’ve been on and the religions and philosophies I’ve studied in the time past 30 years.

Prayer now helps me to center myself in love and compassion. I’d like to offer a prayer that may also speak to you:

Prayer for World Peace

Peace be spread throughout the Earth!
May the orient express peace,
May peace come from the East and go West,
May peace come from the North and go South,
And circle the world around!
May the garments of the Earth,
Be in the place to magnify the Divine.
In this day and hour of this night,
May the world abide in an aura of Divine Peace.

Recently a Young Adult Unitarian Universalist I know asked me “I know Love is at the center of our faith but how the hell am I supposed to love my oppressor?!” This is such a good question. As we embark on a new year with the knowledge a genocide is happening on one hand and constant consumer messaging on the other, how do we center Love?

To be clear, there are as many different kinds of love as there are grains of sand on a beach. Family love, friend love, partner love, pet love, etc. But when we talk about Love being at the center of our faith, the most relevant love is called Agape Love. Agape Love is known for its qualities of empathy and sacrifice. It wants the best for everyone and is intended for everyone. In the Christian faith, from which both Unitarianism and Universalism was born, it is the love God extends to us and the reciprocal love we extend to God. That love includes all things and all people. It is a covenant of unending care.

What Agape Love is not is absolution. It does not mean that we do not hold each other accountable for wrongs. It does not mean we do not name a genocide as a genocide. It does not even mean we have to like one another. We can go so far as to hate someone and still find Agape Love for them. This is because even in our hatred we still must see the humanity in the other person. Even if they have acted in inhumane ways, Agape Love, our UU Love, calls us to uphold their worth and dignity as we hold them accountable for the terrors they have committed. See the difference there, we can hold people accountable and uphold their humanity. We can Love them.

So after I got through that mini sermon, of course this UU had more to say! Here’s a replay of the rest of our conversation:

young adult: So I can tell them I love them even if I hate them…that seems hypocritical.

me: Why are you even talking to them if you hate them?!! If they’ve done something so terrible to you, why are you allowing them into your life?

young adult:  Well you just said I have to affirm their humanity, don’t I have to engage with them to do that?

me: Goddess no! Agape Love says that you affirm their humanity, it doesn’t say that you are solely responsible for that.

young adult: So I can hate them and love them, just from a distance?

me: Yes, set a boundary. Make sure that their access to you is exactly as much or as little or as none as you want. There is no need to take care of your oppressor or abuser. Agape love means that when they are held accountable for their actions, it is done by someone else and it done while keeping their humanity intact.

young adult: Well what about revenge, what if I want them to suffer?

me: Ah, that’s really getting to the crux of it all isn’t it? It’s not about not wanting to love them or not. It’s that we want them to feel what we felt, suffer the way we’ve suffered. And we know that if we’re called to Love them, we can’t allow them to suffer. Even if we have. Even if we have at their hands. That’s really what this conversation is about isn’t it?

young adult: Well, yeah.

me: Will their suffering heal you? Will it make the world a better place? Will it in any way change what happened in the past?

young adult: No but…is this like the time you told me that hate is like drinking poison hoping that the other person will die?

me: Do you think it’s like that?

young adult: Hmmm, maybe. I’m gonna have to think about it.

me: Absolutely, that’s part of our faith too! And if you can, please let me know what you come up with because that’s how I learn and grow as a Unitarian Universalist too.

So beloveds, there it is. Let me know what you think so we can learn and grow together.

What does it mean to center the value of love?

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Hank
CLF member, incarcerated in LA

Through my eyes, I see all humans with equal vision, regardless of diverse qualities, color, gender, and belief — this is what love looks like to me. Through my senses, I perceive all as one and the same, directed by cosmic order, consciousness, self, God or Guru, which are all synonymous — this is what love feels like to me.

Through my ears I hear and hold no judgment, condemnation, ridicule, or punishments for whatever is said — this is God, through me, in me at all times. Love is God, and God is love: not separate from me, and never forsaking me, for me are one and therefore I am.

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Donald
CLF member, incarcerated in CO

Love is a simple yet complex emotion for us to truly describe. However, we seem to know it when we feel it. Problems arise when we grasp at, try to control or desire love. Problems also happen when we reject or do not reciprocate love.

Love is at its best when we just allow it to be, and in turn, when we just “be” in it. Love exists outside of us, sometimes with, sometimes without us. We are not necessary for love, but love is a necessity for us.

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What is Love?

Ryan
CLF Member, incarcerated in FL

L-O-V-E. Probably one of the most misunderstood words in the English language. Mostly due to the fact we only have one word for it. The Greeks however have multiple words to describe different types love. Here are four of them:

Eros, the easiest, is physical love. This is where we get words like erotic. It’s the love of how things look/feel/smell/taste or any other physical property. This might be an initial feeling towards someone we’re attracted to.

Philia is brotherly love. Think of philanthropy, coming together to raise money for a cause. This describes the love towards friends, co-workers and even humanity as a whole.

Storge is familial love. Not a common root word in the English language, but this is the love one typically feels towards parents, children, siblings or cousins.

The most powerful form of love is agape, or unconditional love that continues despite and perhaps even due to our flaws.

This is sometimes the hardest to achieve because as humans we put conditions on so much, usually unconsciously. This is what we as UUs strive for, especially in our acceptance of the LGBTQ+ and incarcerated members. This is the love to strive for.

What about your love?

Elaine
CLF member, incarcerated in AR

Desperate and alone, this trans heart has been,
forever seeking its needs in places bereft of such things.
Trying to make due with what’s at hand,
knowing its needs would never be met.

Dark and tainted this trans heart has been,
always ignored and forgotten in a world so cold.
Always being refused and abused,
rarely has it known the warmth and light of real love.

Hated and jaded this trans heart has been,
just for refusing to adhere to the world’s ignorance and lies.
Never rewarded for standing true to itself,
but always cast aside, unwanted by others.

Begging and pleading, this trans heart implores you,
those who have the capacity for love and caring.
Don’t let others rule who and how you should be,
let you heart judge; it knows the deepest truths.

Danny
CLF member, incarcerated in CA

Drops of water fall
Onto sidewalks and raincoats
Gloomy clouds stretch on
Shifting winds and sunshine say,
“This will not be forever.”

---

Part I: the beginning of things, when cycles are born

When the world was very young, there were not yet any seasons. There were not even any days — the Sun and the Moon shared the sky in harmony, quietly watching over the world together. After time had been passing for some time, the Sun suddenly realized that he was tired. 

The Sun said to his friend the Moon:

“Moon, I have realized that I am tired, and would quite like to rest. What if we traded places here in the sky, so that we each get a break from watching the world, and have some time to rest?”

The Moon thought this was a wonderful idea, so they tried it out: each taking a turn to watch over the world in the sky, while the other rested. This is how the day and the night were born. This new cycle suited the Sun and the Moon very well — so well, that they decided that they each wanted their own larger cycles, in addition to day and night, so that they each had more time to rest and be renewed.

The Moon decided that she would wax and wane, showing up a bit less each night, until she was able to take an entire night off, and then come back slowly until she was in her full, beautiful glow. And so the months were born. 

The Sun decided that he wanted a longer cycle: he would go to sleep just a bit earlier every night and wake up a little later every morning for six months in a row, and then, more fully rested, he would start getting up earlier and staying up later for the next six months. And so the years were born. 

The Sun and the Moon loved their new cycles even more than they had loved the days. So much more felt possible in the world when everything worked in cycles. In fact, the Sun and the Moon felt so energized by their rest times that they decided they were ready for more life to join the world: in each new cycle, they introduced a few new beings. One new being at a time, they added mountains and rivers, trees and mushrooms, grasses and flowers and animal beings of all sorts. After many, many cycles, the world was full of beautiful new forms of life.

Each time a new being was introduced to the world, the Moon whispered to them: remember always that this world works in cycles. There are times of great light and activity, and there are times of darkness and rest. This is the great rhythm of the world, and all beings must follow this pattern in their own way. 

The mountains and rivers and trees and mushrooms and grasses and flowers and animal beings of all sorts followed these instructions, and they each found their own cycles. And for a time, all was well. 

---

Part II: Squirrel arrives, disrupts the cycle

The world continued on for some time, with the mountains and rivers and trees and mushrooms and grasses and flowers and animal beings of all sorts living on, each in their own cycle. Things were going well, so more and more creatures were added to the world: now the world had Owl and Crow, Deer and Spider, Hedgehog and Fox and Bunny Rabbit. Some beings struggled more than others to learn about the rule of cycles, but especially by the time the year got dark and cold, they always seemed to find their natural rhythm. 

One day, Squirrel was born. Squirrel was small and fast and so happy to be in the world. He was so excited, in fact, that when the first instructions from Moon were whispered in his ears, he didn’t quite absorb them — he was already scampering away, running up the nearest tree to explore and learn as much as he could about this new world he had found himself in. The other animals saw this, and it worried them a bit, but little Squirrel was so cute and inquisitive, they all figured that he would learn the way of the world sooner or later.

Squirrel arrived in the world on the summer solstice, when Sun was at his brightest and most full. Everything was blossoming and bursting with life, and Squirrel saw that the world was full of abundance. Even though every day after Squirrel was born, the Sun went to rest a little earlier and woke up a little later, each change was so small and Squirrel moved so quickly, that it was many months before he fully noticed what was happening.

A few months in, the days had become darker and colder, and the trees had started to shed their leaves as they prepared to rest for the darker months of the year. Squirrel finally noticed these changes, and one day, he asked Owl (who had been around for many years, and always seemed to have the answers) what was going on. Squirrel asked:

“Old Owl, why have the days become so dark and cold? The world had such abundance and warmth when I first arrived. Has something gone wrong?”

Owl replied: “Oh little Squirrel. Did you not listen to Grandmother Moon when you arrived? Our world works in cycles — the Sun and the Moon each rest in their turn, and so must we. There is abundance also in our rest.”

Squirrel heard what Owl had said, but quickly dismissed it. Squirrel was very young, after all, and had some of the arrogance that often comes with youth. He thought, “Surely that only applies to the old beings who have been here for many years — I don’t feel tired at all! I’m so small and quick, I’m sure I’ll be able to zoom right through this cycle thing without missing anything while resting. I’ll stay awake all the way through these long nights and soon enough, the Sun will be back to brighten the long days again.”

The days kept getting shorter and the nights kept on getting longer, and most of the beings in the world watched this great cycle turning and responded in their way. Many of the trees shed all of their leaves, and the plants closed up their flowers. Crow and Hedgehog and Spider and Bunny Rabbit cozied up their homes and rested all through the long nights. Even old Owl, whose way was to stay awake through the long night and to sleep during the day, still honored this cycle in her own way: she grew a thicker coat of feathers to keep her warm in the beautiful cold and dark world. 

But Squirrel, in his youthful arrogance, did not respond to the cycle’s turning. Squirrel pretended he was not cold and did not grow a warmer coat, but instead kept on moving so quickly that no other creatures could keep track of where he was. And even though it should have been Squirrel’s way to sleep through the long nights, he kept himself awake, wandering far and wide when he really needed to rest. 

Finally, the world got to the longest night of the year, the turning point in its cycle, and the Sun went down for his deep, restful sleep. The Moon, who lived on her own cycle, was up full and high in the sky that night, watching over all of creation, as she always did.

As the Moon watched the world that night, she was pleased to see so many beings still following her important first instructions: some were awake, as was their way during the nighttime, and many were resting, as was their way. All seems well as the night went on and the Moon made her way through the sky.

Then, when the night was almost over, the Moon spotted something strange: there was little Squirrel, wearing much too thin of a coat of fur, and staying awake in hurried activity even though she knew full well that was not his true way of things. Moon suddenly felt a flash of anger that this being she had brought into the world was ignoring her instructions so fully! Were none of the other beings seeing this and helping him learn? In her anger, the Moon stormed away from the world — leaving the dark night without even the light of her presence. The Stars, who always watched the world kindly from their far-away homes, saw the Moon leaving and thought they should follow suit. The Sun, without the Moon returning to wake him and start the next day, slumbered on. So the world was left in darkness without Moon or Stars or Sun: the cycle of the year had stopped turning. 

---

Part III: Squirrel learns to rest, everyone learns to turn the year around

It was Owl who noticed first. She loved the dark, so it was not the long darkness itself that she minded — but her heart felt it the moment the Moon and the Stars had left, and she knew something was wrong. There was an unnatural stillness to the world: the year had stopped turning. 

Owl, even in all her wisdom, didn’t know what to do. The year had never stopped turning before! How could she call the Moon back and keep the cycle going?

Owl decided she needed help, not just from her animal friends, but from all of the beings of the world. She flew around waking everyone up: the trees and the flowers, the deers and the spiders, the mountains and mushrooms, telling all of them, “Wake up wake up! The Moon has left us, the year has stopped turning!”

Soon, all the beings were awake, disoriented and confused in the pitch darkness. Owl was trying to get everyone ordered, to see if they could come up with a plan, when she felt a little tug on her bottom feathers.

She looked down and saw Squirrel, small and tired and shivering in his too-light fur coat. Tears were streaming down his young face, freezing in the cold night air as they fell. He tried to speak, but words failed him.

Owl said: “Oh my dear, it can’t be as bad as all that! What’s wrong?”

Squirrel, speaking through his tears, said, “But Owl, it is, it is! It is all my fault that the year has stopped turning. The Moon saw me running around when I should have been resting… It’s because of me that she felt so angry that she left the sky altogether. I don’t know what to do!”

Owl sighed, and was still for a few moments. The poor young Squirrel in front of her was so very tired and distraught — Owl knew that more than anything, before anything else could happen, Squirrel needed to sleep. Owl thought back to her earliest days and remembered a song that a grandmother of some kind had sung to help the beings of the world learn to fall asleep. 

Owl said, “Dear child. Rest now — the year has stopped turning, so really, we are in no rush. Let me help you fall asleep.”

And she started singing:

Return again *
Return again
Return to the home of your soul

Return again
Return again
Return to the home of your soul

The other beings who had been woken up in all of the commotion started to listen in — and particularly the older ones, who had been around in the very first cycles of the world, realized they knew the song too. 

Return again
Return again
Return to the home of your soul

Return again
Return again
Return to the home of your soul

Before long, all of the beings of the world, all of the mountains and rivers and trees and mushrooms and grasses and flowers and animal beings of all sorts were singing. It felt right to all of them, somehow, to join together in song when the world was suddenly so strange and uncertain. Little Squirrel, who had been so very exhausted from trying to outrun the turning of the year, was soon fast asleep — but the other beings of the world kept on singing. 

The sound grew so loud and resonant that even in her far-off place away from the world, the singing started to reach the Moon. She inched closer and closer until she could hear them clearly:

Return again
Return again
Return to the home of your soul

Then the Moon, the great grandmother of the world, realized: they were singing the song she had taught them! The anger in her heart started to soften, and she realized how hasty she had been to leave the world. After all, the beings she created were all still so young (that little Squirrel especially!) — of course they didn’t understand how very important cycles were yet. And now they were singing the very song that she had created to help them fall asleep! All was not lost after all.

And so, slowly but decisively, moving to the rhythm of their singing, the Moon returned to the world. She appeared again low in the sky, to the exact point she had left, just staying for a moment before going on to wake up Sun. 

The many beings of the world, still circled up in song as all of them knew they should be as soon as they started singing, started to feel a lightness in their hearts. The sense of unnatural stillness began to shift. Just as the sun started peaking over the horizon line, they all realized together: the year had started turning again. 

Little Squirrel, exhausted from his distress and his long refusal to follow his natural rhythm, slept for most of the month of this re-started year. When he woke up, the moon had gone through her full cycle, and was back in the dark, cold sky in her beautiful fullness. He saw her just for a bit, when she was low in the sky at the beginning of night. The young Squirrel was still moving as quickly as ever, but with purpose this time: he had much to gather to keep himself warm and fed before returning to a restful slumber for the rest of the night. Squirrel had found his natural cycles of things, and honored it as best he could. The Moon was glad, and she hummed an old familiar tune as she traveled, as ever, through her cycle in the sky.

All was well. 

---

* “Return Again” by Shlomo Carlebach, Singing the Journey #1011

Return again,
Return again,
Return to the home of your soul.

Return to who you are,
Return to what you are,
Return to where you are
born and reborn again.

In the quiet moments of reflection, I find myself thinking about my own life story, each page revealing moments of growth, resilience, and transformation. I wonder, where are there places in my story where I did my best? My least? When did I show up for myself or others? When did I disappoint? When did I choose to make amends? When did I chose to pretend I was infallible? All of these things are human, and owning up to them is how we get a clear picture of who we are, through the stories we tell. These stories, the tales we tell about ourselves, are the keys to unlocking the doors of personal and spiritual growth.

Think about a time in your life when everything shifted, when the world seemed to pivot on its axis. These are the turning points, the moments of realization that alter the course of our stories. Perhaps it was overcoming a challenge, navigating a difficult choice, or coming to terms with a decision you made. What story did you tell to get you through that moment? Did you make something up that you could aspire to? Did you own up and lean into honesty?

Adversity is not the end of the tale, nor a stopping point, but an opportunity for growth. It’s not the smooth, easy paths that define, but the rocky terrains that build us. Each obstacle becomes a stepping stone, a testament to the resilience cultivated through the struggles faced. Loneliness and isolation were experiences that many of us faced during the COVID 19 lockdown, and too many are still in this space. Enduring this kind of long-term struggle has given most of us a greater sense of connection when we are in the presence of others, in person or online. This is one of many examples of adversity shaping us. What struggles shape you? How do these points of adversity influence your overall story? Do they define you? Are they stepping stones for learning?

I think about the unwritten pages of my story. The narrative is far from complete; the journey of transformation is ongoing. What will the next chapters hold? How will my story continue to evolve? These questions excite me. Encourage me to have hope for a future. To dream big, knowing that anything is possible because I have the capacity to imagine my story. To create the reality I want. It also gives me incredible focus to determine what I really want. If I dreamed to have a big, beautiful thriving garden but no space for one, I would think about what I wanted from that garden. If I want beautiful flowers that I could see all around me, then I can draw or paint them on every scrap of paper I can find, and put them on the walls around me so that every place I look I see beautiful flowers. The method is different, but the result is the same. Dream big.

In the stillness of your own reflections, your own dreaming, consider the stories you tell yourself. What tales shape your understanding of who you are? Are they stories of resilience, growth, and self-discovery, or are they narratives that hinder your potential for transformation? Take a moment to explore the narratives that guide you and reflect on the power they hold in shaping the person you are becoming.

Our stories have the power to script the future chapters of our lives. With intention, we can embrace the story that unfolds with each word, each reflection, and each move forward. After all, the story we tell about ourselves is not just a recounting of the past; it is a living, breathing narrative that shapes the person we are becoming.

What are the stories that shape you?
What role does storytelling play in your life?

---

Jacob
CLF member, incarcerated in AK

This has been a harder question for me to approach. Many times we hit the point we want to ignore or hide the truth about the stories that have shaped us, either because of embarrassment, fear, or some other now silly-seeming emotion. As I sit here, though, I realize that if those stories had not shaped me, I may never have made it so far in life before incarceration or even possibly death.

To start, a bit about my familial/social setting. My mom’s side of the family is from Iowa, and my dad’s side of the family is very Hillbilly, Good Ole Country boy types from the Northern Hills of Arkansas. All of that meant a very big learning curve for a child.

The stories of Hedge Witches, Shamans, and Healers are accepted truths from my dad’s side of the family. On my mom’s side, there were hardcore Catholic rituals, teachings, trainings, and underpinnings. The two do not readily mesh, but I always enjoyed walking in both paths of my family, learning from both sides.

Then, you add in the fact that I am homosexual, and could never hide my effeminity. My father and his fifth wife loved to give me lectures on the stories of Sodom and Gomorrah, fixating on the homosexuals while ignoring the full stories. They never appreciated me pointing out the key fact that is was the culmination of the sum of all of the inequalities that led to their destruction. Often this would lead to arguments and anger on both sides.

Disney Princess stories such as Mulan, Cinderella, and Beauty and the Beast made me think, “If they can find love then maybe someday I can as well.” Or can I?

The stories of various novels, like the Ramona series, gave me an escape from the pains of daily life, while motivating my curiosity and creativity.

The stories that family and friends told of their experiences and things they had seen helped shape my ambitions and drive to leave our small town. Grandpa, my dad’s dad, would tell of the antics of his peers and family. Often these would make me not want to be trapped in those same patterns. My Grandma, my mom’s mom, would point me to stories of succeeding, being yourself and fighting for something. These encouraged my drive to help others as well as be an outspoken advocate.

All of these stories have pushed me on, opened my eyes to things I may have missed, as well as motivated me to leave the hills and to see what I could learn and do.

Overall, storytelling has greatly shaped my life. Now I write fiction and non-fiction stories in an attempt to help others in similar situations push through and succeed. We have to share our stories, our truths, and our experiences to help others know that it’s possible to push through it all. 

---

Comfortable

Barney Silk
CLF member, incarcerated in TX

They say I must have grown up with a ‘chip on my shoulder,’ but I’d like to see you come and push my boulder. Or walk a minute in this mile I call my life, and see how well you manage strife. I grew up watching other kids get things they never had to earn, that was a tough lesson I had to learn.

Because you see, I grew up in poverty and never knew what it was like to be rich, having to cut steps in the dirt to get to the mailbox from the ditch. Or wondering how me and my Grandma would make it another day, when black eyed peas and cornbread proved to be the only way.

So please don’t sit in judgment of me from the comfort and confines of your nice big home, because ain’t no one ever just throw me a bone. And don’t try to say, “you know what it’s like,” because I’m no fool, see you don’t know anything about the beatings and sexual abuse when I came home from school. Or about the times I was almost killed, lying torn and bloody in an old farm field.

And I’m not just some writer whose dream it is for his name to be called out from a crowd by a Raven fan, I’m comfortable enough just being a man. Because you see I’m a Silk and I know what it’s like, to not have all the tools yet still get it right.

---

Gary
CLF member, incarcerated in SC

Growing up in the South of the 1960s, my pre-school days were spent in the tender care of my maternal grandmother. These were seemingly innocent times long before video games, cell phones, or computers. The turbulence of the time, the Civil Rights Movement and War in Vietnam, were far removed from the fresh-baked bread smell of Grandma’s Kitchen.

My days were filled with tomato sandwiches, iced tea with lemon, and snow cream in the winter. But each day came with “naptime.” And naptime always came with one of Grandma’s “Lake Swamp Stories.”

Grandma was from a “little speck of a place,” as she termed it, called Lake Swamp in the South Carolina lowcountry. About 30 or so miles outside of Florence, Lake Swamp was little more than a local school, a tiny grocery store, and a barbershop.

Her daily tales were like a fantasy world to my childhood ears. No TV? No refrigerator? No indoor bathroom? I was fascinated.

The 1920s in rural South Carolina may initially seem a quiet, pastoral scene. Yet, Grandma’s stories of barn dances, alligators crawling out of creeks, thundering circuit-riding preachers, and huge Sunday dinners seemed like an amazing place in time.

But beyond being mere childhood pre-nap stories, Grandma’s tales gave me a unique sense of identity. She, unknowingly, lit the fire for my own love of writing and fed that flame with the basis for many of my short stories.

The 1960s were truly not “Leave It To Beaver” innocence for many, if not most, especially in the South. But my Grandma carved a safe space for my childhood and, importantly, gave me a love of writing.

Gary
CLF member, incarcerated in SC

Over a pot she’d dice wild onions
add a “mess” of greens cut from her garden
toss in a chunk of salt pork
then feed us lip-smacking joy
Wells of goodness from humble fare
the magic of a Grandma
a quilt from precious scraps
a christening gown, an old shawl
cornhusks made into dolls
snowcream dusted with cinnamon
and just a speck of rum
Tuberose snuff, yeast-baked bread
pillowy, soft, just life her hugs

Leo Cardez
CLF member, incarcerated in IL

 

“Corners,” my newest celly, is middle-aged and polite — the sort of man who carries the normal toil of the world. We have a lot in common and often spend hours talking about this or that. He’s easy to talk to, quick to grin with a wry sparkle to his eyes when he shares stories that are close to him.

Neither of us are much for idle chit chat or gossip, but occasionally we open up about our fears, hopes, and dreams and it can be quite powerful. I can always tell when he’s getting into a story, he leans forward pinning me with the force of his words. Stories of his past life, pre-prison, are tinged with regret; nothing more so than the loss of his daughter. She’s not dead, but when he came to prison in many real ways he died to her. Prison is certainly a type of death. Are we buried yet undead or are we dead yet unburied? She was only 8 years old when he came to prison and he still recalls her bright pink pajamas with the footies she was about to outgrow in another growth spurt. In fact, he told me, there has not been a single minute in a single day since he left that he hasn’t thought about her — not a moment has slid by when the world was not still oriented toward her. His words shook me to my soul. The depth of his tragic story of multi-generational addiction and abuse pinched the oxygen from the air. Yet, by all measures, it was clear to me he had learned to use his grief as a weapon for his faith and inner recalibration.

I see myself in all his stories, it is as if I’m speaking through him, only the names and dates are different. I suppose that is the purpose of good storytelling: be tiny and epic at the same time. The best stories are local slices of Life. They concern the neighborhoods where we grew up, our closest friends, and favorite things. They are close to the bone, the flesh of our lives. And yet, they are universal, too, because they speak to our shared humanity; the fears and hopes we all share as sons, brothers, fathers, and friends. Stories of prison woes, I’ve learned, are very similar regardless of age, nationality, or culture; what happened to one, happens to all.

Corner’s story is rooted in suburban privilege, but the story arc plays out similarly around the country’s prisons: an unfair criminal justice system, fear, loss, and the desperate attempt to find and hold onto hope and purpose in our cold, austere world.

It is an undeniable truth, when we open our hearts to hear each others’ stories — we oftentimes find ourselves in them; we realize we are not so different after all and others’ experiences can become our own. I’m confident employing shared storytelling as part of a larger restorative justice effort, connecting victims and offenders, would certainly break down barriers, shatter stereotypes, and be a conduit to true healing. But, that’s a bigger story for another time.

“There is no agony like leaving an untold story inside of you,” Zora Neale Hurston wrote in Dust Tracks on a Road. That quote is the principle that guides my writing. As much as my writing may have a self-help angle or sense to it, what I really want to impart is the human pulse of the stories. The essence of their message is that we’re all in the same boat just trying to get through this harder-than-we-could-have-ever-imagined thing called life. We need, nay, we must, share what we’ve endured as a means of catharsis and connection. I’ve often encouraged my fellow inmates to write their story. I believe everyone in prison has a novel inside of them waiting to bloom, if only they’d sit down to write it.

Corners’ stories keep unfolding, every one as poignant as the last and as we get to know each other the recitation and exchange of these stories is where the common ground begins to emerge. It is how respect and friendships are built.

My greatest fear is that my own daughter may follow in my addiction footsteps. I’ve read that young people today have the highest rates of anxiety, depression, and suicide in history. Many experts believe they are symptoms of a generation being raised during the digital revolution. As connected as the internet has the capability to make us, apparently today’s youth has never felt more alone and unheard. Stories are unfolding in them and they need to express them. I encourage my daughter to seek help, if and when she feels she needs it; to talk about her feelings. And she does. She’s putting cracks in the emotional walls that hold her hostage, so eventually the whole thing will fall. That’s what happens with enough time and pressure, even the hardest rocks will eventually turn to dust. But, the waiting and continuous effort needed to break down the walls is what is heartbreaking. But, that’s why we must continue to share all those stories we keep hidden in secret chambers of our hearts — they are what make us and what may save us all.  

There is a famous joke about early-20th century U.S. President Calvin Coolidge, who was known as a person of few words. One day, it is said, Silent Cal, as he was known, went to church and his wife Grace stayed home. When he got home, Grace asked him what the sermon had been about. “Sin,” replied Cal. “What did the preacher have to say about it.” Grace asked. Cal paused, sighed, and replied, “He was against it.”

Theologians for millennia have disagreed about the nature of sin, and whether and how sins are ultimately reconciled. Some have declared that, thanks to the great harm done to people perceived as committing sins in the name of religious judgment, it is not even a useful concept.

I believe that having a moral code is useful, and that looking at our actions through the lens of that moral code is a worthwhile exercise. I also believe that we, as Unitarian Universalists, need to be careful not to make “sin” into a permanent mark against someone. Sin is not a useful concept if it is used to make people into the dehumanized “other.”

James Luther Adams, a famous 20th century Unitarian/UU theologian once wrote, using the unfortunately gendered language of his time, “It cannot be denied that religious liberalism has neglected these aspects of human nature in its zeal to proclaim the spark of divinity in man. We may call these tendencies by any name we wish, but we do not escape their destructive influence by a conspiracy of silence concerning them.  Certainly, the practice of shunning the word ‘sin’ because ‘it makes one feel gloomy and pious’ has little more justification than the use of the ostrich method in other areas of life.”

I agree with Adams.

So what is a Unitarian Universalist theology of sin?

Many Christians define sin as that which separates us from God. This, of course, asks humans to pretend that we know what it is that God wants, and we know the danger that thoughts like that have wrought in humanity. I believe that sin is defined as a separation in relationship as well, just not necessarily our relationship with a divine.

Once again, I turn to Adams, who declared that Unitarian Universalists “deny the immaculate conception of virtue and affirm the necessity of social incarnation.” What does this mean? Virtue—and its opposite, sin—are defined by relationships. There is no such thing as goodness or evil in and of themselves—both are defined by the effects of our actions. The effects of our actions on other people as well as on the interdependent web of existence of which we are a part.

Sin is what separates us from one another.

Sin defines people as “other.” It makes them invisible when they are right here in front of us. Sin silences. Sin abuses. Sin gaslights. Sin knowingly harms another and then blames them for overreacting to that harm. Sin creates systems of oppression that target people for who they are, and makes those systems of oppression replicate themselves again and again.

My colleague the Rev. Molly Housh Gordon draws upon womanist theologians in her understanding of sin. She writes, “I have come to think of sin as an ethic of domination that desecrates particular lives as well as perpetuating sinful systems. Drawing upon the work of womanist theologians like Emilie Townes and Delores Williams, I conceive of sin as the exercise of control over another in a way that objectifies, or, in Williams’s words, ‘invisibilizes’ others and our connection to them. This domination destroys difference—tearing the fabric of the web of life.”

Gordon continues, “Sin is the acts of domination and annihilation that result in part from our illusions of separateness. Our sin is every moment that we forget or violate our relationships within the web of interconnection that binds together all creatures and our world.”

Sin is what separates us from one another. It is what breaks relationships. It is the point at which one stops listening, the point at which one stops caring. It is the point at which we believe another to be irredeemable.

And sin is something we all must grapple with. We all do it. And we all must seek redemption for it when it occurs. It might not be a permanent mark on our souls, but it certainly is a permanent part of life as we know it, since none of us is perfect.

If someone asks you what your minister had to say about sin, you can tell them I’m against it. 

How do you relate to the idea of sin, and/or the idea of atonement?

---

Jacob
CLF member, incarcerated in AK

I do not find evidence to support the existence of original sin, and find it hard to believe that we all pay for one person’s actions. I do find that if you relate sin to the idea of karma within the Buddhist and Hindu traditions, it becomes more legitimate and likely. We pay for our actions either in this life or the next, and through our actions we can burn off good or bad past karma quickly. Ultimately, we have shaped what we are dealing with and as such have to handle it, whether by ourselves or with the help of others. 

---

Adam Scott LYTLE
CLF member, incarcerated in WV

I am writing as a 31 year old inmate, who got locked up at the age of 19 and sentences to 15 years to life.

Sin is not nails in our feet, driven into the floorboards. As individuals or groups we make choices, we make mistakes, and we even commit sins for personal reasons, some wrong and some for the right causes. God understands that, justified or not, “sin” will be “sin.”

“Atonement” is a strong word. It has throughout history been utilizes in so many different ways, from the most gruesome torture to a loving embrace to get people to “atone,” which means to make amends.

I believe that to atone means to be at peace, and to know that change will happen, to realize right from wrong and push toward what is right, no matter what evil stands in the way. It is also to gain intelligence and be happy knowing what you have discovered.

Life is short in general, be as happy as you can be and embrace your peace!

---

Christopher
CLF member, incarcerated in WV

How do I relate to the idea of sin and/or atonement? Because I’m a Christian who trusts in God’s words, sin is very real for me, and there is a very long history with sin and I’m tempted to get into it, but I’m pressed for time because I see parole for my first time in 2037 and I gotta get ready, so I’ll try to keep this short.

I relate to sin like this: I know what the difference is between doing right and doing wrong. Because of who I put my faith and trust in, to intentionally do wrong against a person, an animal, the earth, or property, first and foremost I’ve committed sin according to Christian scripture. Sin is an intentionally wrongful act. That is how I relate to sin, in a nutshell.

I believe most people, and not surprisingly most Christians as well, do not understand what atonement is. Atonement is an Old Testament word for a blood sacrifice from a pure animal for forgiveness and cleansing. It was the temporary practice until Jesus was able to sacrifice His pure blood on the cross. Fast forward to today, and now God’s forgiveness can be had simply by asking through prayer.

However, not everyone believes this way, so another way of relating to sin and atonement for me is this: when I intentionally say or do something harmful to any mentioned above, I know that I’ve done wrong.

I have done wrong to a lot of people in my lifetime, and even though I pray for forgiveness for which I receive every time, I know I still need to try and make things right with whoever I did wrong to. I have to start by asking for their forgiveness, but there is no guarantee that they will give it. If they do forgive me, I still need to try and repair anything else I may have harmed in order to complete my atonement to that person. It is the right thing to do. If someone damaged something of mine and I forgave that person, I still expect that person to try and make any repairs necessary to complete their atonement to me.

That is how I relate to atonement — but with God, I believe that He just wants us to ask, and it will be given. 

---

ASHER
CLF member, incarcerated in AK

In “Christian Apologetic Universalism’s Scriptural Exegesis” (CAUSE), a book by Jon Neil Herd, it briefly states that sin’s definition is to miss the mark.

I would further illustrate that it is to miss the mark of moral perfection inwardly, and to miss the mark of eternal life and zero suffering outwardly. Everyone of us can achieve this, and it can be accomplished through atonement, which means that we make amends for our ancestors by adherence to the truths we see all around us every day. We can achieve it by striving toward perfection inwardly, and by striving towards our many just causes outwardly.

The Bible speaks of Jesus Christ in this fashion. As a Unitarian Universalist, I believe that I should have hope in God, because Unitarian means one God and Universalist means for all people. Insomuch as we have differences of doctrinal ideas, we may all come to agree under our many banners of faith. That is awesome! And it pushes me onward to discover the deep mysterious truth.  

 

“Brothers of Healing” is an original song written by CLF member Maverik Storm. Maverik wrote this about the piece:

“I hope this can be an anthem for those who are healing, who know brokenness, and those who are committed to advocating for change. I hope that if this song reaches the hearts, minds, and voices of those who hear it and sing it, that they’ll share it. It is an anthem to be shared.”

 

The Church of the Larger Fellowship (CLF) is a great community of communities made up of people connected and committed to reminding each other that we are more together, that we can take turns at the resistance, that cultivating and growing communal joy is part of what helps us stay stronger and focused on the collective liberation and transformation of all.

One of the tasks of the CLF Nominating Committee is to help our community leadership stay fresh and strong. The CLF Nominating Committee knows that the lead ministry team and staff of our church need the energy and joy and enthusiasm of leaders to co-create our future. Does CLF help you grow your joy and keep your eyes on the prize? Would you like to join leadership teams to continue to work for liberation and transformation at church?

The CLF Nominating Committee is seeking individuals who are actively involved in our congregation to assist how we engage in ministry, leadership, and governance together. Specifically, we are looking for individuals to serve on the CLF Nominating Committee  who are committed to matching peoples’ gifts with opportunities to contribute and who understand the role of Nominating in widening the circle of care and leadership.

We are also seeking individuals to serve on the Church of the Larger Fellowship (CLF)  Board who are deeply rooted in Unitarian Universalism. The CLF Board and Nominating  Committee are explicitly seeking ways to incorporate CLF members with personal or familial experience with incarceration, as we continue the journey of involving incarcerated and recently incarcerated members in leadership opportunities.

Please watch for two opportunities in January 2024 to join a Town Hall meeting. We will chat primarily about CLF Board and Nominating Committee volunteer leadership opportunities.  However, there will be opportunities to hear about the broad band spectrum of leadership!  This is for the interested and the curious! The only invitation will be an invitation to additional conversation. Representatives from the CLF Board, Nominating Committee and Staff will be on hand to share their experiences and answer your questions. This will be an interesting time  to explore the ways you might contribute to CLF. And I am sure we will also have fun together.

Please let us know if you or someone you know is interested in this way of investing in our community. Email nominating@clfuu.org with the subject “Board/Committee Interest” and let us know if you would like to learn more about leadership opportunities at CLF, or if you think someone in your circles would be an excellent person to recruit.

If you do not have access to email, and are interested in CLF leadership, please mail a letter expressing your interest to the CLF Nominating Committee, 24 Farnsworth St, Boston, MA 02210. If you do not have access to Zoom, please let us know and we will arrange an alternate way to explore your interest.

— The CLF Nominating Committee Members: Debra Gray Boyd, Julica Hermann de la Fuente (CLF Board liaison to the Nominating Committee), Michele Grove, and Tie Resendiz

Altars, places to honor our ancestors along with displays of that which we experience as sacred, were never part of my upbringing. I didn’t start having an altar until well into my adulthood. A central part of my home altar is my connection to the ancestors. My ancestors include family and friends who died and some becoming ancestors too soon on their life path.

Our connection to those who lived before us can be deep and profound if we invite their memories into our lives. Not only their memories, but what they worked for and how
they lived.

Those of us who hold identities that have been the target of oppression know that our ancestors faced hardships we may never fully understand intellectually, but we carry the memory in our bodies.

As a woman born in Egypt and raised a strict Muslim in the United States, I have had to face challenges that include anti-immigrant sentiments when I was a child from those here in the United States, and in Egypt I was faced with misogyny and strict rules of conduct because of my family’s interpretation of the faith. I often felt stifled as a child and teenager, rules imposed on me did not apply to my male cousins of the same age. I was angry at the unfairness of it and  I finally left the faith in my early twenties.

I connect most closely with my female ancestors, especially my two grandmothers. I knew my maternal grandmother, Labiba (her first name) and I adored her. She was feisty, gregarious and honest to a fault. I am grateful that I remember my maternal grandparents. My grandfather Abdelgawed (his first name), was more of a quiet introvert, who was kind and generous. I have a picture of both my grandparents on my altar.

My paternal grandmother is my namesake, Aisha. By all accounts she was the life of the party, a vivacious, generous and welcoming soul. She died when I was young and I don’t have any memories of her. I was born in Egypt and spent my first year of life living with her in Alexandria.

There is a picture of me as an infant on her lap and it is the only picture I know of with the two of us together.

I will never know what my grandmothers had to endure as Muslim females who were mandated into behaving a certain way in order not to be ostracized. They made the best of their circumstances, that I do know given how generous of spirit they were and how I heard stories of their antics.

My grandmothers are the reason I am alive, they suggested to my parents that they marry each other. They were friends and loved to laugh with each other, host parties and socialize.

I think of them often with the knowledge that I am living the life they didn’t know was possible for a female. I am independent, a faith leader and working for liberation of all. I am my ancestors’ wildest dreams.

What is your relationship with your ancestors like? What shapes that relationship for you?

---

Shawn
CLF member, incarcerated in PA

My relationship with my ancestors is very, very important. I have relationships with them just like you would with your living relations. Because, as I see it, they are just as alive as our relations, they are just on another plane of existence, yet here with us. They are around you all the time. You just may not be able to see them. Some of us can.

Ancestor worship is important to Wiccans, Druids and Native Americans. The Japanese also have ancestor worship. You can learn from them because they lived in another time and/or place. You can talk to them and worship them. Revere them. They still shape our lives as they did in the past. They flow through our veins. So it is very important to have a relationship with them. I learn from them as I would with my living relations. We have remnants of them in our Megalithic structures.

---

Gary
CLF member, incarcerated in NC

Growing up in the South during the 1960s was tumultuous but also a time of tremendous change. Coming from Quaker ancestry, my forebears were active in the Underground Railroad at what is now Guilford College, Greensboro, North Carolina.

Heritage means many things. Just as each individual is unique but also complex, so too is one’s ancestry.

---

Jacob
CLF member incarcerated in AR

My relationship with my ancestors is definitely not what I want it to be. I have barely explored it and feel like I am ignoring parts of their sacrifices and wisdom. I know some of my father’s side but have not been in the situation where I have been able to explore my Cherokee ancestry. My great grandmother Easter Sunrise dropped off the Trail of Tears in Missouri. I do not know much of anything about my mother’s side of things. Who are her ancestors? Due to all of this I have decided to start trying to learn more of both sides. I truly want to know where I came from, where my ancestors’ beliefs came from and what shaped them. 

GARY
CLF member, incarcerated in NC

I am from persimmons,
from Karo syrup, and grits.
I am from the front porch,
wide, long, cool in the Southern heat.
I am from magnolias,
whose fragrance is the quintessential South.
I am from Sunday dinners and blue eyes,
from Joseph and Kathleen.
I am from the stiff upper lip,
from seen and not heard.
I am from back row Methodism.
I am from Glenwood and Randolph,
Guilford and Shropshire,
the Queen Anne II,
Icebox fruitcake, fried chicken,
homemade cream puffs.
I am from the Christmas ornaments
made of cardboard and glitter
that Pop bought during World War II
when metal and glass went to fight Hitler,
carefully preserved, precious, rare.
I am from Grandma’s tea set, fragile,
tea pouring from a dragon’s mouth,
Sitting out of reach upon the sideboard,
teaching me to value heritage, tradition,
family.

In a world marked by imperfections and the passage of time, the concept of repair takes on a profound significance. Repair is not merely about fixing broken objects or restoring functionality; it extends to healing relationships, bridging divides, and nurturing our connection with the world around us.

Repair, at its heart, embodies the essence of compassion, forgiveness, and growth. It’s not about sweeping problems under the rug; it’s about facing them head-on, armed with the belief that even the most shattered connections can be healed.

For us, this sentiment resonates strongly with our belief in the inherent worth and dignity of every person. This principle reminds us that every individual, no matter their background or circumstances, deserves respect and the opportunity to rebuild what might be broken.

Rooted in the Unitarian Universalist values, the idea of repair is not just a practical necessity but a spiritual calling that encourages us to cultivate compassion, empathy, and a commitment to justice.

Not too long ago, I was harmed inadvertently. My first instinct was to run, to put as much distance between myself and the people causing the harm. I’d never been in a position where repair was on the table, much less the next step in a relationship. Over time, I received apologies that were sincere and full of ownership and a change in policy and rules to make sure no one else would have to endure the same harm in the same way. I didn’t have to do or ask for any of these things, they did it on their own. As time went on, I realized they not only meant it, but they were eager to repair the relationship.

It’s up to me to accept when I’m ready. I share this live story because this is not the normal outcome. It is more often the case that harm is met with gaslighting, anger, or even outright denial. This incident showed me that there could be another way. Mistakes and harm, intentional or not, could lead to stronger relationships. I can’t predict the future to know if this will lead to lasting relationships that survive this ‘ouch’ but I can accept their apologies and allow repair with grace.

Communities can heal and thrive through repair. In a world filled with divisiveness, UUs stand as advocates for unity and harmony. Repairing the bonds that hold communities together exemplifies the transformative power of commitment to growth, both individually and collectively.

Repair is inherently tied to justice and equity. It involves acknowledging historical injustices, working to rectify them, and ensuring that compassion and empathy guide our interactions with others.

In the warm embrace of Unitarian Universalist values, the concept of repair takes on a transformative meaning. It becomes a guiding light, illuminating the path toward justice, compassion, and interconnectedness. Repairing brokenness, be it in relationships, communities, or the environment, aligns harmoniously with the principles that Unitarian Universalists hold dear. As we navigate the complexities of our world, may we draw inspiration from these values and strive to be agents of repair, fostering healing, understanding, and unity in all that we do. 

 

Scars

JeKaren Olaoya
from All the Pieces Fit

Scars
Are proof that
Life has moved forward
Has either hurt
Or healed
Changed

There is strength there
In the space between
Where the skin
Knits itself together

The power of what
We can’t see easily
Gives us strength
We didn’t know we had

There is beauty there
Where the healing happens
It seems angry like fire
But it is life
Eager to be repaired

There is no brokenness
Though fragile
Our skin is strong enough
To break only under
Extreme pressure
And we are mostly ok
After

Scars don’t take away from
Or make us less
It’s ok to be afraid
To show them

But know
You will always be
Worthy
And free to be
Whole
No matter how many scars
Grace your body
In service to who you are

What does repair look and feel like to you?

Have you experienced significant moments of repair in your relationship with yourself or others?

Jacob (Momma Bear)
CLF member incarcerated in AR

To me, repair means to mend, heal or fix. It is a way to fix, correct and heal what has been neglected, broken or allowed to decay. The hardest part of repairing relationships for me has been figuring out why. Why did they fall apart, flounder or just disappear? To help me with this I went through a year of therapy as well as Vipassana (or Insight) Meditation. Through this struggle I have seen things within myself that have caused the relationships to flounder, disappear, or become negative.

By seeing this I have tried to truly address and change these things. It has led to the creation of new relationships, but I have not been successful at repairing any of the old ones. Disappearing into the prison system seems to have made it so that the ones who were my friends and family could disappear, leaving me clutching thin air. 

---

Matthew
CLF member, formerly incarcerated in ND

Repair for me as I sit here comes from the heart of a sorry man. Change must always start with yourself and must do it for yourself — if you do it for someone else, you as the individual will never take the change fully to heart.

As you read this, I will finally be free and home after spending 7 years of a 10 year prison sentence in North Dakota. Take time to get outside and breathe some fresh air, read books that are educational to learn a skill to bring out here. Seek help for mental Illness — it is ok to be weak, you don’t have to be a tough person!

Remember: you’re placed on this earth for a purpose, and someone is looking up to you. If anything, help yourself so you get well to mentor the younger generations.

---

Kyale
CLF member, incarcerated in MI

After wronging another human being and becoming a convicted felon, I looked at the fences around me and made them a reflection of my personality and soul. At the time, I could not grasp the concept of being repaired because I believed that I did not deserve to have my self image repaired, nor did I deserve to have my life restored. As a result, I made suffering my penance, believing I had lost my right to pursue happiness, make meaningful friendships, and contribute to society in the ways I wanted to. When it was all said and done, I experienced so much misery and heart ache from these beliefs that I lost myself and all of my motivation to do the things I loved.

I never would have escaped that dark spiral if not for the love and charity of friends and volunteers. They came from all walks of life, some were free and some were incarcerated. They were Christians, Jews, Muslims, Wiccans, Humanists and Atheists. And though their beliefs about the origins of our Universe were different, they all embraced the same kind of love when they came to my rescue.

They showed me that prison could be more than just a house of suffering. Behind these bars I could grow and change for the better. They encouraged me to participate in classes and rehabilitation programs that introduced me to new ideas and new friends. My mind expanded, my heart grew, and I finally saw that my self-imposed suffering and solitude was doing a disservice to my neighbors. Why? Because we all belonged to each other, which meant they needed me to uplift them just as much as I needed them!

There is no “repairing” without a return to a prior state. In other words, I had this joy and purpose within me all along but had simply forgotten about them. It took a community and the grace of God to show me that I had so much more to offer than just my suffering. And when I finally committed to my right to experience joy, to pursue my dreams, to be loved and to serve others, I was repaired and restored because I was free to be me again.

Looking back on it all, that’s what repairing means to me. It’s about more than just fixing a broken person. We all have it in us to be happy, peaceful and productive, but it requires us to see ourselves clearly. To be repaired is to be returned to ourselves. We already have the power to forgive ourselves and to make the most of our lives no matter where we are. We just need to be reminded of this.

Thank God for the people who held up that mirror and said,  “Remember who you are.” It was this insight and help that repaired my relationship with myself, to stop punishing myself and start spending more time being that mirror for members of my prison community who need it.

And to you, the reader: who in your life is always reminding you about your best and authentic self? Who looks at your hopes and dreams and tells you they are beautiful and worth pursuing? Who tells you when it is time to forgive yourself? Who out there has repaired you by returning you to yourself? ′

 

Leo Cardez
CLF member, incarcerated in IL

There is nothing exactly like living in Hell, but there is something close to it: jail and prison. In my hell, where I lived for most of 2015, there is, as Dante understood, no hope. People think the worst part of being locked up is the loss of freedom. They are wrong. The worst part is the loss of hope and purpose. You wake up every morning realizing your nightmare will continue into your waking hours. The loss you have suffered is permanent. Life will never be the same. In many real ways you are already dead, just unburied. There is no healing, no improvement, but even worse, there is no possibility of any to come. The most unbearable thing about your unbearable life is that you will always be forced to bear it.

In the midst of my horrific incarceration experience, alone and desperate to stop hemorrhaging relationships, I wondered if those who hated me were watching somehow they might find my misery satisfying? I might have, if I believed everything that was said about me. On a particularly dark evening, I considered doing
just that. I doubted anyone could despise me more than I did myself —
I couldn’t even stand my own reflection. But one can only fall so deep into the well before being consumed by the darkness. I admit, I considered the coward’s solution, but in writing my final note, I could not find the right words to convey the magnitude of what I was feeling. I refused to settle and postponed my act of desperation another night. Night after night I tried, but there were no words big enough… Instead, I found myself simply journaling about my day.

I wrote about everything and nothing, whatever popped into my head. My only rule was raw honesty. I figured if this was to mean anything to anyone it must above all be true. I didn’t realize honest writing will tear your guts out. Like when I wrote about the shame and pain I saw in my mother’s eyes when she came to visit me in prison — knowing it was my fault, and worse,

I could do nothing to help her. That feeling of helplessness was like being stuck in a barrel at the bottom of the ocean with no options. There is nothing worse.

Still I wrote. Everyday. I wrote by the light of the morning sun through my dirty cracked window or glare of the hallway lights through my cell bars. I promised myself I would write every day, no excuses… and I have. Now, 7 years later, I have learned that writing to me wasn’t a diversion, it was my church. It offered salvation in the promise of change. Escaping Hell is difficult because sometimes there are too many people who enjoy seeing you there, but with enough effort, grace; and in my case, pens and paper, it can be done.

As I re-read some of my earliest journal entries, I marvel at the flawed, petty, unhappy person I was. I also noticed that as my writing evolved into a more positive realm, so did my actual life. My writing became prophetic. As I tried to make the best of things, every now and then, I succeeded. As I look around today I can see that writing has helped me appreciate life in a whole new light.

When my parents wrote to tell me they were proud of me, even as I sat in prison, I am not ashamed to admit: I wept. I cried again after my sister’s last visit, seeing her changed and beautiful from the inside out; having found what she had been searching for, though not in the places she had been looking. I owe all of it to the power of the written word. It has taught me how to look inward in order to look forward. It has provided me with the key to an escape hatch to the next chapter of my life.

The CLF held its Annual Congregational Meeting on Sunday June 11, 2023. Anyone who could not attend the meeting was invited to vote by mail ahead of the meeting. We received 248 votes by mail and 43 members attended the meeting.

CLF members voted for the slate of nominations presented by the nominating committee (272 yes, 3 no, 7 abstain) as follows:

– Rev. Dr. JJ Flag for Board of Directors for a three year term

– Heather Gatland for Board of Directors for a three year term

– Rev. Christe Lunsford for Board of Directors for a three year term

– Doreen Christiani for Board of Directors for one year (to complete an unfinished term)

– Darbi Lockridge for Treasurer for a one year term

– Mandy Neff for Clerk for a one year term

– Katie Resendiz de Perez for Nominating Committee for a three year term

CLF members also voted to ordain Steven Leigh Williams, a CLF Learning Fellow, as a
Unitarian Universalist minister (269 yes, 2 no, 9 abstain). Steven was recommended for ministry by the UUA Ministerial Fellowshipping Committee. The now-Reverend Steven’s ordination was on July 2, 2023.

Welcome! Welcome to Quest, welcome to the Church of the Larger Fellowship, and welcome to Unitarian Universalism.

This is a special issue of Quest meant specifically for those who are new to the Church of the Larger Fellowship (CLF) and Unitarian Universalism, and want to learn more about both. We are a community of spiritual seekers: Unitarian Universalism is a faith bound not by dogmatic beliefs, but by a commitment to love, learn, and grow with one another. We learn from and are resourced by many different spiritual paths and wisdom traditions, and embrace theological diversity within our communities. Our shared beliefs center around love and liberation for all people, and a commitment to creating more justice in the world. If that intrigues you, keep reading.

In this issue you’ll find the guiding principles and values of Unitarian Universalism, a timeline of our congregation’s history, and more about our shared theological commitments. You’ll also see some testimonials from members of the Church of the Larger Fellowship, the Unitarian Universalist congregation behind Quest, about the impact that the CLF has had on their lives.

Regular issues of Quest include reflections on monthly spiritual themes, poetry and artwork from our members, and opportunities to engage with the life of our congregation. The CLF is a congregation with no geographical boundary, and Quest is just one way that we connect with our 3000+ members, more than half of whom are currently experiencing incarceration. Our members who have access to the internet can join our weekly online worship services, take classes and be a part of small discussion circles, and our members who are not online have access to correspondence courses, reading packets, and pen pal connections. Please visit our website or write to us if you would like to learn more.

We hope to connect more soon—until then, enjoy this introduction to our vibrant, liberatory faith community!

Our Unitarian Universalist faith is bound by covenant — the sacred promises we make to one another — instead of by creed or dogma. The covenant that connects all of Unitarian Universalism is articulated in Article II of the Unitarian Universalist Association (UUA) bylaws. As of 2023, the language of that covenant is in transition; a new articulation of our shared faith values is under discussion, and may be voted in as the official language of our faith in 2024. We have included both the new language, and our existing Unitarian Universalist principles (which were adopted in 1985) below.

UU Principles

Principles 1–7: adopted by the UUA 1985
Principle 8: adopted by the CLF in 2020

We, the member congregations of the UUA, covenant to affirm and promote:

1. The inherent worth and dignity of every person

2. Justice, equity and compassion in human relations

3. Acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth in our congregations

4. A free and responsible search for truth and meaning

5. The right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within our congregations and in society at large

6. The goal of world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all

7. Respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part

8. Journeying toward spiritual wholeness by working to build a diverse multicultural Beloved Community by our actions that accountably dismantle racism and other oppressions in ourselves and our institutions

UU Values

Language proposed by the Article II Study Commission in 2022; up for a vote to adopt denomination-wide at UUA General Assembly in 2024

Love is the power that holds us together and is at the center of our shared values. We are accountable to one another for doing the work of living our shared values through the spiritual discipline of Love. Inseparable from one another, these shared values are:

Interdependence

We honor the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part. With humility and reverence, we covenant to protect Earth and all beings from exploitation, creating and nurturing sustainable relationships of repair, mutuality and justice.

Pluralism

We celebrate that we are all sacred beings diverse in culture, experience, and theology. We covenant to learn from one another in our free and responsible search for truth and meaning. We embrace our differences
and commonalities with Love, curiosity, and respect.

Justice

We work to be diverse multicultural Beloved Communities where all thrive. We covenant to dismantle racism and all forms of systemic oppression. We support the use of inclusive democratic processes to make decisions within our congregation and the society at large.

Transformation

We adapt to the changing world. We covenant to collectively transform and grow spiritually and ethically. Openness to change is fundamental to our Unitarian and Universalist heritages, never complete and never perfect.

Generosity

We cultivate a spirit of gratitude and hope. We covenant to freely and compassionately share our faith, presence, and resources. Our generosity connects us to one another in relationships of interdependence and mutuality.

Equity

We declare that every person has the right to flourish with inherent dignity and worthiness. We covenant to use our time, wisdom, attention, and money to build and sustain fully accessible and inclusive communities.

In the 1940s, as the German army began to impose its totalitarianism across Europe, many people fled in fear of their lives. At the time, the Unitarian Service Committee (USC) committed itself to rescuing as many refugees as possible. Their work was dangerous, and they saved the lives of many.

The documents created to help these refugees escape needed an official logo, so Dr. Charles Joy of the Unitarian Service Committee hired a graphic designer, Hans Deutsch, himself a refugee, to create one. The flaming chalice drew upon ancient religious symbols to be an official seal for the USC. The communion chalice, the holy oils used for blessing in many religions, the altars of Greek and Roman times, and lights put in the window as a symbol of hospitality are all evoked by the flaming chalice.

Throughout World War II, this symbol guided refugees to safety on travel documents, business cards, and in the windows of otherwise hidden offices.

After the war, the flaming chalice gained popularity as a symbol of Unitarianism, and then later of Unitarian Universalism. The ritual lighting of the chalice in UU worship became widespread in our congregations in the 1970s.

Our flaming chalice is still a symbol of life-saving welcome. Where it burns, its light beckons us all to live up to our shared principles and participate in the liberation of all people.

Despite the theological diversity within Unitarian Universalism, there are many things that we agree on and hold sacred within our communities. The following list is of 10 things that are important to know about what Unitarian Universalists believe, and how we try to be in the world.

1. Hell Outta Here
   We do not believe in hell nor any kind of afterlife eternal punishment.
2. Big Love
   We affirm that every person is worthy and deserving of love.
3. World Wide Web
   We know that we are interconnected with all other forms of life, and care about tending to that web of relationship and connection.
4. Curiosity Nourishes the Cat
   We are a people of questions and curiosity. Curiosity doesn’t kill our cats (or humans), it nourishes and expands their imaginations.
5. This Queer Pastor Loves You
   Many of our faith leaders are openly part of the LGBTQIA community.
6. Heaven on Earth
   We believe and work towards creating a more equitable and just society right here, right now.
7. Co-Exist
   We are a pluralist faith, we affirm all the wisdom traditions of the world and do not believe any one is better than another.
8. All Souls
   You don’t need your soul saved, your soul is already awesome.
9. Our Holy Trinity: Community, Liberation and Love
   We are a community of people trying to figure out what it means to be human and how to center love and liberation.
10. When Life Gives You Lemons, Turn to Community
    We affirm community care and nourishment. The world is a mess and we need each other more than ever, the CLF is the congregation without geographical boundaries. Join us
    from anywhere around the world and find community.

The following graphic traces the history of the Church of the Larger Fellowship from the first Unitarian “Post Office Missions” in the 1800s, through to the present day. To view a larger version of this visual timeline, click on the image below, or on this link.

 

How do you relate to transition? What role has transition played in your life?

Michael
CLF member, incarcerated in WI

I relate to transition as a beneficial force of life, a change to the inner attitudes of your mind to change the outer aspects of your life. Embracing transition has saved me through many hardships. Dying is easy — it’s living that’s hard.

Russell
CLF Member, incarcerated WI

I’m a man who welcomes transitions. I embrace transitory moments like a breathe of fresh air. I’ve learned that stagnation causes sickness, boredom, complacency, and above all: a lack of growth.

Imagine if a caterpillar never entered a cocoon? Transitions in my life have been my cocoons. Each time, good or bad, I have learned the hidden meanings of every stage I was forcing myself to develop through.

Poverty, heartbreak, loss, and worse have all given me the resilience to meet my transitions head on without running away. Running away would only temporarily delay the transition instead of get rid of it. I embrace it
all like the rough medicine it is because I know it will empower my greatest self.

The role of transition in my life will always serve as an instant reminder that I’m not done changing into the best version of myself despite what this world may think. I will always make an effort to keep myself in transition. After all, that’s what lets me know that I’m still alive! 

“Transition” has become a byword in the corrections field over recent years. It has come to encompass classes bearing such fanciful titles as “Thinking For A Change,” “Crossroads,” “Men In Transition” and “Ethical Choices.”

Yet, despite these, recidivism rates in the U.S. run from 41–79%. How is this possible?

As a prisoner now in his 32nd year of incarceration, I have taken part in the above named courses and many others and I have come to a conclusion.

Well-intentioned as they may be, transition services for the incarcerated contain wide gaps in content and scope of inmates addressed. Practical knowledge on such everyday mundane activities as navigating the internet, use of a cell phone, Facebook, Google, Twitter or any number of other such taken for granted resources which are totally foreign to most prison inmates.

America’s prison population is aging as well. I, myself, entered prison in 1991 at 31 years of age. Today I am 64. With this aging comes chronic health conditions and the need for transition services beyond job search skills, resume writing, and interview tips. Senior citizen prisoners will not likely be released to pound the pavement looking for a job. I dare say, employers would be reluctant to hire such for the insurance and health liability alone. Factor in the “scarlet letter” of being a convicted felon, and the elderly prisoner being released following a prison term of any length is left virtually with few or no resources.

Classes on applying for Medicare and Medicaid, senior citizen services, health care, opportunities for socialization and even such practical aid as transit services, Uber use, physician and dental appointments, obtaining copies of DOC medical files, housing options, and mental health — all are neglected.

In a recent transition class, a full 50% were above the age of 50, 20% were older than 60, five were over 65 and two were 70 or above. This is a typical demographic in American prisons. Inmates are locked away for lengthy terms to satisfy U.S. injustice and once their care becomes too costly, many are suddenly found “suitable for parole,” quite literally tossing seniors out on the street with a “gate check” and, if lucky, a 30 day supply of any current prescriptions and nothing more.

Who can forget the infamous scene in the film Shawshank Redemption when the elderly prisoner librarian Brooks was suddenly paroled. Having been in prison since before the automobile he was totally lost. He completed suicide.

Keeping prisoners for lengthy terms and providing no transition services to aid in a successful reintegration into society is a moral crime in which everyone is a victim.

Transition by its very definition means to evolve, adapt, and change. With our world’s largest percentage of the incarcerated (20%, while the U.S. is only 4% of the earth’s population), it is paramount, even critical, that the scope of transition be broadened to address the needs of an aging, growing prison population.

Donna
CLF member, incarcerated in CA

My experience has taught me that many adults who seek a new spiritual connection have, like myself, been particularly sensitized to the suffering of the world. Maybe some people have been taught to be sensitive in this way.

Either way, I would like to see us broaden our empathy for each other in beloved community by celebrating the gift of “a sensitized soul.” Whether we were taught it or given it as a result of grief and loss, whether we were given it as neglected or abused children or from social oppression, we have it.

I have spent most of my life begrudging and resenting my experience of a discontented soul and longing for the ease and comfort that privileged conformists appear to have. I realize now, at age 70, what needless suffering I went through by holding onto these resentments. I kept myself in soul-slavery, even though intellectually I was successful and creative. In my late 40s, the rage and terror of my wounded inner child (affected by childhood trauma and my repression of my true feelings) exploded in a violent crime. I went to prison.

After 20 years of recovery from my criminal and addictive survival personality, mental illness, and criminal acting out, I realize that I spent my first 45 years trying to change the world without validating and healing my wounded soul. Looking back I see how my wound was a gift — the gift of motivating me to take my own path in life and not settle for mindless conformity. What I’m trying to say is that celebrating our woundedness as sensitive souls can be a way of deepening beloved community and preventing younger sensitive souls from exploding, like I did. I feel validation of my worth and integrity as a sensitive soul trying to learn to live my ideals and validation of the inner and outer work required to accomplish them that could have gone a long way toward preventing me from living totally “in my head,” as I used to do.

The spiritual journey is counter-cultural in today’s world, yet, I believe, it is our only solution to maintaining our health and sanity in spite of today’s world. Wounded souls and sensitive souls need a community where we can experience unconditional acceptance. This doesn’t mean I agree with everything everyone else in the community does, but it does mean that I don’t judge others, and rather seek to understand and accept that their ways of thinking, feeling, and behaving are meeting their needs at this time. I feel only at the level of unconditional acceptance can we
motivate others by an example to grow. Self-righteousness and judgment only stop growth.

To me, unconditional acceptance is a relationship skill as well as a spiritual attitude. I have learned it in prison. In a communication class, I learned how to reflect others’ emotions as well as the content of what they were saying. We were taught: reflect the emotion first, as in, “it appears that you are sad.” The other person will agree or correct you right away. Once you have emotional rapport, then it is possible to discuss the content openly and creatively. Self-acceptance is also key. If I don’t unconditionally accept myself as imperfect yet growing, I can’t do this with others. Finally, loving boundaries are essential. My unconditionally accepting others is an attitude of validation toward them, not an invitation to hurt or walk all over me. The most loving way I have learned to set boundaries is with “I” statements, as in, “I feel uncomfortable when you talk down to me, please don’t do that anymore.” If it continues, it is essential to walk away when it happens again, to let the other person know you are serious. This, of course, presumes that the other person is mentally healthy and able to understand.

Introducing the “gift of a sensitized soul” into Unitarian Universalist worship and group thinking would, I feel, encourage deeper empathy and unconditional acceptance of each other within our communities.

The months of May and June often bring transitions related to academic promotions, graduations, and other milestones related to the culmination of years of dedication and hard work.

At this time of year, we often celebrate loved ones as they move from one phase of life into another. We wrap up another year in the school or church calendar, and move into the different pace of life that summer often brings.

Beyond these expected changes, transitions occur in all parts of our lives and often at unpredictable times. How we navigate a wide variety of transitions can reflect our capacity for change.

Transitions that are rooted in celebration are welcomed, and joy is usually inherent in the acknowledgment of weddings, births, and birthdays. The transitions that are more challenging are those that we didn’t anticipate and didn’t ask for. The reality of change may hit us harder when we unexpectedly lose a job, end a marriage or other relation, or when we or someone we love goes through the ultimate transition: that from life to death.

The world around us is in constant transition. Particularly now, in this time of pandemic, climate change, and worsening inequality, change is never-ending. Before the pandemic, more people felt able to have some degree of disconnection from the impacts of modern day life on the planet and how systems of oppression impact the vast majority of beings on the planet. The pandemic has been a flashpoint and a transition for humanity that we are still grappling to understand fully.

We know that the world will never be the same after the past few years. The impacts of oppression and the devastating results of extractive capitalism are harder than ever to ignore. The realities of our changing climate and the stresses of continued inequality are sure to mean more widespread, global transitions are ahead of us. Though many people have always been aware of these realities, some people with privilege still often plead ignorance through their own mental gymnastics and the mistaken belief that we live within a meritocracy. In the short term, privilege may afford some people a better chance at surviving climate chaos and other large global transitions, but the impacts will eventually be felt by everyone.

Amidst the uncertainty of the future and where major global transitions will take us, there are ways we can prepare to weather the coming (literal and figurative) storms as best we can. The tools, practices, and structures of spiritual community have a lot to offer us as we seek to become more resilient within the changes we are already experiencing, and any larger changes to come.

Ultimately, transitions that bring unwelcome change can cause fear and anxiety. This is a completely appropriate response to events that sometimes shake us to the core. Being part of a community and strengthening our connections to one another is part of what grounds us during times of transition. We connect to celebrate, to lament, to find comfort and to know we are loved and not alone. This makes a difference, no matter what type of transition we find ourselves in.

As a faith community without geographical boundaries, the Church of the Larger Fellowship finds ways to invite people into connection and care with each other. We want you to know that you are not alone. While our community does not meet in person in the way that brick and mortar churches do, we offer connection in every way available to us. Being imaginative with how we build community and strengthen relationships is one antidote to the uncertainty of unwelcome transitions and change.

As you navigate transitions in your current life, or anticipate changes to come, always remember: your community is with you. We will always hold your sacredness and belonging, through the many transitions ahead.

 

Often, when people find out that I was a scientist before becoming a minister, they make assumptions about how my brain works, or about how I must see the world. These assumptions are based in a perception of science as cold, distant, and rational. And while it is true that I bring a certain rational brain to bear on collecting and analyzing data, that skill is reserved for when it is truly needed.

Instead, my science background invites me to see magic and mystery in the world around me. It invites me to wonder at everyday occurrences—to find the special and the sacred in the blooming crocus, the varied songs of the cardinal, the laughter of children, and the storm blowing in from across the river.

My science background invites me to see all of these things as intricately interconnected to all of existence, and to marvel at how complex it all is.

My science background invites me to realize that the depth of that complexity means that it is impossible that humans will ever understand it fully.

Too often, people see science as an attempt to do just that—to understand everything fully. But any good scientist will tell you that every new discovery brings with it a new depth of understanding of what is still not known. Every question answered means two more questions asked. As Physicist John Archibald Wheeler once said, “We live on an island surrounded by a sea of ignorance. As our island of knowledge grows, so does the shore of our ignorance.”

My experience of science is that it asks me to see our world as full of wonder. Full of possibilities for understanding. Full of questions that are exciting to pursue.

Many times as a graduate student in cell biology, I holed myself up in a small, dark room with a very large microscope for hours as I experimented on immune cells taken from lungs.  My experiments examined the movement of those cells, and on testing whether the proteins I studied stimulated those cells to move.

It was amazing and humbling to understand that the things I did on the large scale made those cells move on the microscopic one. There, in that small, dark room, looking at those very tiny cells, I could not help but be overwhelmed by my connection to a vast and unfathomable universe.  I could not help but be filled with a sense of wonder and awe.

In this world away from that microscope room, I also see wonder and awe everywhere.

I want to invite you into this wonder-full way of experiencing the world. This way in which everything is an exciting and sacred thing.

When next you read about a scientific study, I want you to imagine the scientists who produced it. I want you to imagine them in their labs, or field stations, or conference rooms. Imagine them asking questions—lots and lots of questions. Imagine them getting more and more excited by the questions before them. And then imagining them figuring out how they are going to ask those questions in their work. Not how they will answer them—but how they will ask them.

When next you experience something you don’t understand (and for me, that is almost every moment of every day), ask questions about it. Change your questions and see if it changes your experience of that thing. Ask other people what their questions are and see if those questions change your experience. Enter into the world of wonder. It’s a wonderful place.

How do you access a sense of wonder? What does wonder feel like?

Russell
CLF Member, incarcerated WI

I remember how excited I always got as a kid at an approaching thunderstorm. It always started with me smelling the charged Earth in the breeze. Then the feel of warm wind mixed with cool. The fast approaching thunder clouds signaled the parade of the oncoming natural light show. Fingers of lightning streaking across the deepening gray sky. Then the reverberating boom of cackling lightning growling down at us small people below. It always made me feel like a spy on Mother Nature’s most active display of beauty. The thrill of such power felt like a roller coaster that never lets you down!

And the softening of the end of the great scene let me feel relieved that I wasn’t set on fire on the spot by a stray bolt of lightning, each time I watched a storm. I was aware of the danger it posed. In nature’s everyday workings is wonder beyond my wildest dreams. A baby bird learning to fly, a car crash avoided in split seconds, a last minute three pointer from my favorite basketball player at the buzzer for the win.

All of these things seem ordinary at first. But when observed, one can easily tell that there is a hint of brilliance hiding in every act. What is there not to find wonder in once one realizes this fact?!

In a recent Quest article titled “Embracing the Living Tradition,” Rev. Dr. Michael Tino shared more about the work of the Unitarian Universalist Association’s Article II Study Commission, and the changes they are proposing to our Association’s Bylaws. These changes propose new language for how we articulate the center of this faith tradition, replacing our Principles with seven core Values. We have received numerous responses to that article and the proposed changes, some of which are shared below.

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Gary
CLF Member, incarcerated in NC

Inclusiveness is what drew me to the CLF. At 63, I have explored many faiths, endeavoring To chart a path and find a spiritual home.

I grew up Christian, as a member of the United Methodist Church. Being gay, I knew that the dogma of traditional Christian churches fluctuated from “love the sinner; hate the sin,” to outright abhorrence, considering me an “abomination” in God’s eyes.

Seeking a place, I drifted to the Roman Catholic Church, going from mild disdain to sheer condemnation. Yet, I found a certain measure of comfort in the liturgy and ritual, and a presence of the Divine amidst the incense, prayers and Eucharist. Still, I could not be me.

I joined the Metropolitan Community Church (MCC) — the “gay” church. At last, I thought, I have found a place. I became sadly disillusioned when the MCC visitors came to see me only to develop relationships with younger, better looking inmates they asked to be introduced to.

I left the MCC and explored Buddhism, seeking the inner peace so elusive in my life. While Buddhism did offer comfort, I wanted a connection to the Divine.

For 9 years I practiced Wicca. I even attended Wiccan Seminary and became a First Degree Wicca Priest — a Witch. I should also point out that I hold a degree in Pastoral Ministry from Seminary Extension of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary Nashville, TN.

I felt “at home” in Wicca, only to be again disenchanted by our Coven’s High Priest, who, contrary to Wicca belief, used our services to lambaste all other faiths and employed foul language to do so.

I briefly explored Humanism, but I fundamentally believe in “God.”

No, not an old bearded white man sitting on a gold throne, smiting all who cross “Him.”

Rather, I believe in the Divine God without sex, without race, who is love.

Then, I discovered the CLF. I can’t say exactly how it happened, to be quite honest. Maybe it was the work of that Divine Creator, who I had prayed to, begged for mercy, help.

It was in Unitarian Universalism that I found that beautiful inclusiveness, that spiritual liberty to embrace those elements of any or no particular faith, and to chart my own path. Here I could embark on my own spiritual journey, unique to me as my DNA.

I can combine the love of Christ, the wisdom of the Buddha, the ritual prayers of Catholicism, the peace of Islam the Mystical qualities of Wicca, and make my own spiritual “vegetable soup” using the very best of all faiths as I continue this beautiful journey called life.

The Article II as described in Quest captures the tradition of Unitarian Universalism as a living faith. UUism is not mired in dogma with an unwillingness to progress as humanity does. Who could doubt that were Christ to be on earth today that he would not avail the use of social media?

As I study the image of the new Article II language, I ponder the meaning of each:

Interdependence: No one is an island. As the Baha’i say, “The world is one nation, mankind its citizens…” We are all neighbors on this tiny blue speck in this great universe.

Equity: We are all equal. There is a sanctity in life. All lives matter. Race, ethnicity, gender, identity, sexual orientation, are of no consequence.

Transformation: Everyone has the capacity to “do good.” There are no “evil” people, only poor choices. All have the spirit of the Divine dwelling within, with the power of this transformation.

Pluralism: Every faith practiced by humanity has worth. Labels are but a device of humans and like race, gender, origin, has. no consequence. There is room at the table for all.

Generosity: It is only in giving that we can experience a taste of the very Divine which we claim to worship. Love one another is, perhaps, the greatest of all commandments. The poor, homeless, sick, aged, imprisoned, orphaned, abused — are not these our fellow humans equally created in the image of the Divine?

Justice: It is indeed sad that America ranks third in human history (behind Hitler’s Nazi regime and Stalinist Russia) to imprison such a huge percentage of its people. The US is but 4% of earth’s population, but this country houses 20% of the world’s incarcerated people. Justice isn’t justice until it is truly justice for all.

So you see, UU embraces the very best of what it means to be human. I, for one, am glad I was somehow led to the altar of acceptance, love, mercy, and a congregation where my past does not define me.

Thank you for allowing me this opportunity.

Larry
CLF member, incarcerated in NC

My reaction is simple: I love it. One of the main characteristics of the Unitarian Universalist faith that I felt so strongly about was what I will call “evolution.” This evolution of growth and the ability to honestly and continually re-visit the Association’s bylaws in order to not only stay current but ensure progress is, I believe, a necessity.

Doctrines and dogma have destroyed tons of potential in other organizations who may have otherwise progressed in spiritual growth. It’s sad, but very true. By embracing a living tradition, we are setting a fantastic example, one that I believe that great spiritual teachers such as Buddha, Christ, Muhammad, Moses, etc. would all approve of. I often look to the greats for inspiration, and this bylaw inspires me in and of itself.

In response to whether or not I am interested in learning more about the process and language, I definitely am. Today, I live and breathe spiritual knowledge mainly because of the deep impact it has had not only on my life but on those closest to me. Altruism has become a life-long goal and a driving force in many people’s lives who have been fortunate enough to find organizations just like this one. I thank you all and hope that Unitarian Universalism continues to be a beacon of light in a harsh world.

Prison life has beaten the hell out of me. It has helped me to learn not to be hardheaded, when God is trying to teach me something. For these lessons, I thank God.

Life is a painful struggle, but only the dead need not struggle. For these struggles, I thank God.

Working through the trials and tribulations that have made me stronger, and when that pain mysteriously turns into beauty. For the trials, tribulations, and pain, I thank God.

When I can use my strengths, to help others who are going through what I have endured — for what good is being strong, unless it can be used to help the weak? For those opportunities, I thank God.

Honest friendships, deep conversations, and a good laugh, even in the midst of chaos, I thank God.

The opportunity to focus my energy into making needed changes in my thinking; that even behind these bars, I can make a positive shift in my outlook. For these changes, I thank God.

Food, water, and shelter — for these basic necessities whom so many lack, I thank God.

For getting into shape and living a healthier lifestyle removed from my addictions, I thank God.

For all those who go out of their way, to make things harder than they need to be; For all the inmates who whine and complain about anything and everything;

For all the friends and family who turned their back on me in my darkest hour, and chose hate instead of love, anger instead of compassion, animosity instead of understanding, and rancor instead of forgiveness;

For all the frustrations that come with a life lived inside a concrete jungle on the fringes of society — all of which drove me to do what I didn’t before: give my life to Jesus Christ. For all these people, I thank God.

For this soul-saving intervention that has opened my eyes and heart to the importance of real family, loyal friends, unflinching love, and to the God who made it all.

For all of this, I will forever thank God.

Suzelle and Brad have been pen pals for years. They wrote this exploration of imagination together.

Suzelle:  Imagination is human magic. It gives us the power to make mental pictures and feel feelings beyond the input of our senses. It helps us believe, remember, reason, fantasize and solve problems! Imagination misused fuels our fears, but more often it beckons us toward a better life.

I always thought I had a good imagination. I’m a writer, an artist, and a songwriter… But I never imagined I could have a rich, beautiful, loving friendship with somebody like Brad the Dad, a young incarcerated Black man who grew up on the streets in poverty, fear, and violence.

Brad the Dad:  Imagine a child born to a single mother addicted to crack cocaine and alcohol. She has utter disregard for this child; his basic needs are at war with the merciless enemy, crack, and only one desire can be fulfilled. The child loses every time…

There is no father. Often, there are no lights, heat, or hot water; no food or rules; no love, attention, or affection. There’s only crack smoke, empty beer cans, and strange men coming and going day and night. And if the child cries from hunger, he’s fed punches to the face to shut him up.

Imagine a child who wanted to be Superman; who dreamed of being a lawyer or policeman; who dreamed of his mother loving him and his daddy being home. Feel the bite of cold, hard steel around his tiny wrists; the loneliness, fear and sadness of being locked in jail for trying to protect and earn the love of a mother who cursed the day he was born. Honestly, would it surprise anyone if this child answered the call of self-preservation and took to the streets?

Now imagine the surprise of this child grown to adulthood, in a prison cell, watching TV as a crowd of black and white people march through the streets, professing “Black Lives Matter!” I thought it was some kind of a hoax. Frustrated and angry, I asked myself, “Who are these Black Lives everyone claims to matter…?”

Suzelle:  It was my congregation and me that Brad saw on the TV news.  We were marching to fight the dismissal of charges against the police officer who murdered Jay Anderson, Jr., a young black man from our neighborhood.

Brad wrote to me. He asked. “Does my black life matter? Does my son’s black life matter? Or is it just the black lives who are dead that matter?” His question hit my face like a dash of cold water. We began writing back and forth.

Brad the Dad: Throughout the 20 years I’ve been incarcerated, I’ve always imagined myself as something greater than the six-digit number the prison system assigned me. I HAD to imagine in order to survive. I’ve spent more than ten years in solitary confinement, with one stint lasting almost four years straight. Having a vivid imagination and hope is the ONLY way to survive the hole for such a duration. You must be able to live in your mind and work towards something greater for tomorrow. I imagined myself as the most loving and understanding father the world has ever seen, and the most supportive, loving, and loyal husband a wife could ask for. I imagined I was smart; a scholar even, so I studied and read a lot of books. I imagined myself as a Freedom Fighter. Despite the barriers the prison administration placed in front of me, I never ceased to imagine. To believe. To hope.

Suzelle:  I didn’t understand Brad at first. I thought he wanted help from me. I asked a committee of my congregation to assist, but they returned only fear and suspicion. But Brad had imagined something far more powerful than help: he imagined honest conversations, a sharing of laughs and lives, caring support for his son.  In a word, he imagined kinship.  And that is what we now have — Brad and me, my partner, Brad’s wife, his son, and Lynn and Marc — a wonderful couple from my former congregation who wrote to Brad when I could not. We are a circle of kin, companions on life’s path. We love each other; we listen and learn from each other.

Brad the Dad:  I never knew exactly how I would bring my imaginings to fruition, but I always believed I would.  Now I can proudly profess to you that I stand here today as a loving husband of an amazing wife, who has enriched my life beyond anything I could have ever imagined; a supportive father of a wonderful son and step daughter. I am a college scholar with a 3.8 grade point average, and I am a staunch defender of the freedoms and liberties of all people, regardless of age, race, gender identity, or sexual orientation. So much love is reciprocated between my great friends Suzelle and Lynn and me, and their partners, whose friendship and support has helped me turn my imagination into reality. We have all dared to hope, believe, and imagine something beyond the boxes of each of our cultural or social demographics. I encourage you to have the courage to do the same.

What role does imagination play in your life?

Michael
CLF Member, incarcerated TX

Imagination has had a major role in my life ever since I was a little boy. My imagination started and grew, from my shoe box full of G.I. Joe vs. Cobra action figures. I’d create story lines, and they’d be my actors for my imaginative movie. To be honest, that carried on until I was 17 years old. At that time, I gave my action figures to my oldest nephew.

Then, I started writing short stories, getting critique and advice from my Reading and English teachers in high school. By 20, I went online to find out how a screenplay is properly written and formatted. After reading a couple of screenplays online, like Die Hard and The Sixth Sense, I started writing my own screenplays.

Every day, I have new ideas and imaginative plots for stories, screenplays, and novels. Being able to go into my world of imagination really helps me to be able to cope and manage a cool mind and time while in prison. Of course, movies, commercials, TV shows, classic literature and novels, really help to spark an idea and let my imagination fly and take me into a place of wonderful, awesome, and potential possibilities. I’d be one lost and crazy individual without my imagination. I’m very thankful for the imagination I have and hope one day, I can use it to help and bless others.

Michael
CLF Member, incarcerated WI

Your mind controls whether you live in a paradise, or hell. Imagination gives us the power to believe, and push the limits. My imagination has granted me ideas, innovation; the natural outcome of creative thinking. The proper use of imagination is to give beauty to the world.

Talib
CLF Member, incarcerated FL

When we’re incarcerated we lose a lot, but one of the main things we lose is our ability to connect to the world. We become very isolated, and we start to forget the world outside this one — our dreams even start to become defined by the parameters of prison. Our interpretation can become distorted through the prism that is prison.

Our imagination plays the vital role of keeping us connected to the outside world.

We use our imagination in a variety of ways: we tell stories about our life before incarceration, or imagine what we’ll be doing upon release. We imagine playing games with our kids, of having intimate moments with loved ones; we use artistic mediums to remember the world as we once saw it, or re-imagine it in a way that renews our connection to it. There is no shortage of inventive ways that those of us in prison use our imagination as a means to feel connected to a world that some of us haven’t seen in decades.

I will tell you the three main ways I use my imagination as a means of connection. First, I am a constant student. I enjoy learning; I love to study philosophy, sociology, and politics. I strive to understand reasons. My love of studying started with myself: I was 20 years old, facing down the rest of my life in prison, and did not understand why. I needed to figure it out. I wanted to know what happened to me that caused me to want to be someone who inflicted pain. This led me down a rabbit hole in which I found some of those answers, and also led to me finding myself, and being able to imagine how I fit in the world.

Next, I am a writer. I write a variety of things, but my passion lies with poetry and short-fiction: this is where I can play with ideas of identity and emotion. Writing helps me to imagine the world in new ways, the type of people that exist in it, and how we’re all connected to it. It allows me to imagine an existence beyond the walls. When I write, I am in a different world — connected to it, not in a prison cell.

Lastly, I use imagination with the people I correspond with. I have been told that I can be quite an inquisitive person, it is only because I desire to know. I’ve spent my entire 20s and almost all of my 30s in prison, and the experiences that people normally have at that age — things that helped them discover themselves — are things I didn’t get. I live somewhat vicariously through others’ stories. I rely on their information when discussing an array of topics, to hypothesize my own likes/dislikes and desires/needs. The more detail, the better I can imagine. It is through those interactions that I can see the world.

My imagination for me, and for others in my position, is about maintaining a connection to other people and the world. It is a necessary component to staying a person, instead of becoming a prisoner.

George
CLF Member, incarcerated FL

Imagination has always played a big role in my life. As kids we often imagine ourselves as superheroes or any other type of fictional hero. As we grow up, so does our imagination. As a teenager, I used to imagine myself as a firefighter or a police officer (still heroes, but more reality based). Now as an incarcerated man, I truly understand the power of a good, strong imagination.

Relaxed thinking is the key to your imagination, and imagination is the key to your power and talent. As an incarcerated man, I have time to think clearly. Once activated, it’s easy to find and focus on your power and talent. For some it’s drawing, and for others it may be writing or story telling. For me it’s all of the above. I tell stories in graphic novel form, so my imagination is always going, even while I sleep. For all people in the free-world or who are incarcerated, if you want to be successful or just happy in life, my advice is to slow down. Close your eyes and let your imagination guide you to your true calling. Blessed be.

Russell
CLF Member, incarcerated MD

I have discovered that the most powerful super power in the Universe is the imagination.

Imagination dictates every single thing I do. Many people may be unaware how our imagination creates everything around us. As a lifelong artist I know this to be true. Before I draw, I imagine. Before I sleep, I imagine. Before I awake, I imagine. It is a fact that dreams are mere imagination run wild.

What I do is allow my imagination to combine with the actions that will lead to my revealing the imagined thing simply by not interfering. In Buddhism, this is said to be what Zen is: the mind and actions moving effortlessly in unison.

My imagination gives me inspiration to contribute to a future world where everyone loves one another and shares all of earth’s resources for the good of the whole planet. Those that are using their imagination in the same way will quicken this imagining into physical reality.

If I never learned to just let my imagination live free I would be one of the most miserable people alive. I believe I only exist simply because I imagine it!

A poem by Ultra Vylet.

Would you like to represent the Church of the Larger Fellowship at General Assembly (GA) this summer?

The CLF is entitled to 22 delegates at the UUA’s General Assembly, which will be held both online and in-person in Pittsburgh, PA from June 21-25, 2023. You will be able to attend online or in-person workshops, programs, and worship services. Proof of vaccination for COVID-19 is required to attend in person.

As a delegate you will vote on association business during General Sessions. General Sessions will be held from 2:30-5:30pm ET on 6/22-6/24 and 2:00-4:00pm PT on 6/25.  Delegates should be able to be online or in person to attend the majority of these General Sessions. CLF delegates vote their conscience on matters related to the denomination of Unitarian Universalism, and are responsible for their own expenses. There is no set registration fee for delegates who are attending only for business virtually at General Sessions.

If you’d like to participate in GA 2023 in this role, please fill out the online application here. Visit the UUA’s GA website for details.

When Rev. Michael Tino reached out to me and asked me to reflect on persistence, I laughed and laughed. The dictionary definition of persistence calls it “an obstinate continuance in a course of action in spite of difficulty or opposition.” As a person with ADHD, I am pretty much the opposite of the definition of persistence. My squirrel brain is easily distracted and finds anything new more interesting than something old. I have been known to make to-do lists and then think I have already done the task. I am then surprised that my laundry is still in the bag by the door because I was sure that I had done laundry. I mean, I wrote it down!

This essay is already three days late.

In 2017, U.S. Senator Elizabeth Warren of Massachusetts read a letter from Coretta Scott King into the record on the Senate floor. As she continued to read it, Republican leaders, including Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell told her to stop. After much back and forth, the Republican majority voted to silence her for the remainder of the hearings.

Afterward, McConnell explained himself: “She was warned. She was given an explanation. Nevertheless, she persisted.”

That line became a full-throated rallying cry for many people. It resonated deeply within a broad U.S. culture that lays out the idea that persistence in the face of opposition is a sign of strength. Warren didn’t take no for an answer. We love that stuff. We read story after feel-good story of the person who tried for years to accomplish their goal and then did, through persistence.

If only we try hard enough, we are told, we will be able to succeed at whatever we put our mind to. Our single-minded commitment will overcome all obstacles. Persisting, someone decided, is something that a person does or does not do. Keep going. Don’t stop. Continue in the face of opposition. Just Do It.

But hand in hand with that idea is the ugly underbelly that if persisting will get us to our goal, then if we don’t accomplish something, it will be our fault for not continuing. Just Do It. And if you don’t do it, it’s your fault.

Nonsense.

Joking aside, there are plenty of things at which I’ve persisted. I have completed complex tasks, essays written, children fed, courses completed, and painted rooms. But I never did them alone. That’s the myth that we persist independently.

I think persistence is not an individual character trait. It’s a group activity, and we should understand it as part of community care.

Persistence is collective. It is in the endurance of actions of those who would not give up on me when I gave up on myself. It’s the support of our family and friends and even strangers. It’s the people who grow our food, even people we pay to help us do those things we cannot accomplish alone. Persistence is in the people who let me sleep on their couch while I commuted from Philly to N.Y. for school. It’s the people who took me in and fed and watered me when my mental health collapsed in on itself. It’s the people who send me cards with stickers in them to remind me I am loved. We move forward together.

Persistence is a group of people moving toward their goals. Taking turns, like geese flying in formation, take turns at the front, at that hardest bit. As a community, we take turns with the things we are best at and alternate our effort at the most challenging activities. We persist collectively in the face of collective opposition.

Wonder what happened to the letter by Coretta Scott King? Senator Jeff Merkley read it into the Senate record. Warren persisted, and then Merkley continued. Someone else completed the task she set out to do.

Persistence is a group activity. All of us persist together, supporting one another when and how we can, accepting the help of others. This group activity is part of how we all get free together.

What is the value of persistence? When have you struggled with it, or felt its benefits?

Michael
CLF Member, incarcerated WI

Persistence drives people to accomplish great things. I have struggled with persistence throughout my life, I put limits on the tasks I take on, and at times, I take on too many tasks. I keep it up, because I can feel the benefits of 90% of my persistence.

Russell
CLF Member, incarcerated in MD

Ever since my first incarceration at age 14, I have been meditating with the goal to escape my physical body. I sucked at meditation at first! I would either fall asleep trying to do it, or give up out of boredom. But I had read every book about the subject, so I knew that the goal to escape my body was possible.

One day in 2004 while I spent the summer in solitary confinement, I had read a book that gave me the key I was missing. It said: lay down. Plug your ears and cover your eyes, deprive yourself of all senses. Relax. Breathe easy, don’t concentrate on anything but leaving your body. Once you feel your body begin to feel loose, commit to forcing your consciousness up and out of your forehead, and don’t stop this course, come whatever may. I did this. I felt the looseness as if I were half asleep and half awake. Then came swirling white light in a cyclone type motion behind my eyelids that began to increase more and more as I looked at it and forced my mind upward and outward. Suddenly the swirling light began to make the sound of a tidal wave, like crashing water in my ears. It grew louder and louder as I forced my concentration upward. Without warning my body felt light as a feather, as if I was laying down on the floor of an elevator as it was going up.

This feeling increased until I felt myself being sucked through the cyclone like a wind tunnel. Within seconds I was surrounded by darkness so thick that it felt tangible. I was aware that this experience was real and that I was no longer in my body. I sought to prove it by waving my hand before my eyes. What I saw was an imprint of atoms that made up what was my physical hand. I had no words for this experience other than utter amazement. I saw no up or down, only space.

I became afraid that a guard might come up to my door and think I was unresponsive, so I sought a way to get back in my physical vehicle. There were no sounds to hear, nothing to see. Suddenly a thought occurred to me. Since I felt myself ascending, and I saw the light atoms of what made up my hand, if I pushed myself back down into my body I should be okay.

As I thought this idea, I began to feel myself descending. I kept pushing myself down until I suddenly heard voices, the same waves crashing and swirling white light. I had the feeling of being shocked awake as when someone makes a loud bang and one wakes with their nerves buzzing. Then I could feel the shirt over my eyes and toilet paper balls I used as ear plugs in my ears. I moved my hand before my face and saw only the fabric of my state shirt. I jumped up and screamed, “I did it! I escaped my body for real!” I was absolutely ecstatic with joy.

Were I not persistent, I would never have learned what exists beyond the physical world. My reward was a disillusionment about life and death that only comes from personal experience. Never ever give up!

The purpose of this class is to give the tools necessary to confront deeper issues based in fear.

Students will learn what fear really is and how it applies to them. They will learn that some of the negativity in their lives is based in their own fears, and hopefully begin a journey on a more positive path. Coming to terms with fear can lead to a more positive outlook on life and on people as a whole. This can result in more peace and happiness for the individual negating the need for negative expression (i.e. violence). Confronting one’s unhealthy fears in a positive way can influence genuine change. Students will also learn that some level of fear is natural.

What is fear & how do we master it?

Definition:

1. A feeling of alarm, caused by the expectation of danger, fueled by a basic lack of trust.
2. Anxious concern.

Judging by these definitions, fear can range from not jumping off a cliff because of the fear of being hurt, or buying coffee because you are running out. Fear can motivate you to do something as well as not to do something.

The 5 Universal Fears:

1. Being hurt
2. Hurting others
3. Abandonment
4. Inadequacy
5. Losing ourselves

These are the roots of other fears. Everyone has some level of these fears. It’s okay and natural. When we allow ourselves to act in ways that affect ourselves or others in negative ways, you may be experiencing an unhealthy amount of one or more of these fears. It’s time to confront this within yourself. Let’s break down these fears…

Being Hurt:

In what ways can we be hurt?

• Physically: any way to the body
• Mentally: any way to the mind
• Emotionally: any way to emotions
• Financially: any way dealing with money
• Materially: any way to do with material things
• Spiritually: any way to our sense of spirituality

Looking at this list, which one do you think affects you most?

Hurting Others:

In the same ways we can be hurt, others can also be hurt. Some fear hurting others. There are multiple reasons for this fear, but most are attributed to empathy or fear of consequences for doing so.

Abandonment:

This is in greater or lesser degree the fear of being alone or rejected. This fear can lead to poor relationships, isolation, depression, and bottled up feelings. Remember you cannot have healthy relationships if you have no trust.

People who have an unhealthy amount of this fear may contribute to one or more of these categories:

• People who have never dealt with being alone. People who always were alone or away from key members of their development (i.e. parents).
• People who have been in traumatic situations. Socially under-developed individuals.

Inadequacy:

This is the fear of not being “good enough.” This comes from setting your expectations for yourself too high, or from low self-esteem issues that may have a deeper cause that you need to confront.  Oddly enough, one common way this fear is expressed is defensiveness, though not all defensiveness is caused by this.  Another way this may be expressed is self-defeating attitudes.

Have you ever not done something because you thought you would fail?

Losing Ourselves:

This is the fear of losing our sense of self, how we want to be seen, or what we represent. People who have an unhealthy amount of this fear, may have at one point lived a shallow life with no purpose or direction. Or at another level, live in or worry about the opinions of others too much.

A thought that may go with this fear is, “This is all I have so I have to maintain it.” Some people express this fear with the fear of change.

Have you ever not talked to somebody because they were a “weirdo” and you don’t talk to weirdos?

What fear really boils down to is lack of trust in Yourself, Others, and/or A Higher Power or Greater Power. That being said, it is perfectly normal to have some fear. We would be dead without it. Fear is normal, fear is natural.

Ask yourself this question:

When have any of my fears caused me to act or think in a way that was negative?

When fear becomes that, or False Expectations Appearing Real is when it becomes unhealthy.

Unhealthy fear may affect our judgment and reasoning, it may harm our relationships, and it may affect our spirituality or our sense of purpose.

So how do we balance fear? A way to balance something may be to seek its opposite. There are many schools of thought on the opposite of fear but for the purpose of this lesson see fear as a lack of trust.

If fear is a lack of trust, the first step is to recognize where the lack of trust lies and to take it for what it really is. This does not mean to go around trusting everything!

A lack of trust in self can be helped with a buildup of self esteem.

• Set realistic goals for yourself
• Don’t compare yourself to others
• Learn from mistakes instead of holding them against yourself
• Challenge yourself
• Bask in your achievements, no matter how small
• Force yourself to smile sometimes
• Be honest with yourself

Do not confuse this with ego, which has its roots in self centeredness.

A lack of trust in others is a harder one to balance. First, determine if you are basing this fear off an experience with someone else. Look for another way to assess your relationships.

Trust in relationships is built with honesty and the acts of sharing deep feelings. This often requires you to share your feelings first. Don’t hold others to your own expectations. Learn to appreciate what makes others unique (the world would be boring without it).

A lack of trust in a Higher/Greater power comes with time and development. What’s the difference between a Greater power and a Higher Power?

A Greater power is anything greater than you alone (i.e. an organization, authority member, or a cause/idea). For those who have a Higher power, this comes with building your relationship with your higher power.

The same effort that goes into your other relationships should go into developing your relationship with your greater or higher power.

Become part of a greater purpose. You already have taken the first step. Build upon your knowledge on various subjects.

Keep an emphasis on the question of “why” when searching within yourself. This is only the surface of fear but it does give you a starting point. Remember that this takes time.

To all members of the Church of the Larger Fellowship, Unitarian Universalist:

Per Article VII, Sections 1 and 2, of the Church of the Larger Fellowship (CLF) Bylaws, the 50th Annual Meeting will be held via video/telephone conference call and screen sharing on Sunday, June 11, 2023 at 7:00PM EDT. Link to RSVP for Zoom link.

We will be distributing materials electronically to all CLF members for whom we have a current email address, and posting the documents to our website. All incarcerated members will automatically receive paper copies of the materials along with postage-paid ballots to return. Others may request hard copies mailed to you by sending back the form on the final page of this issue of Quest, or calling the CLF office at 617-948-6150.

All those who have access to the Internet or phone are encouraged to join our meeting via Zoom and participate in the discussion. Meeting materials will include absentee ballots for those unable to attend in person.

The purpose of the meeting is to:

• Report on highlights of CLF activities and finances
• Vote for the following leadership positions (see nominations from Nominating Committee in the packet):
  • Elect three members to 3-year terms on the board of directors,
  • Elect one member to 1-year term on the board of directors to fill a term vacated before the term was finished,
  • Elect one member to a 3-year term on the nominating committee,
  • Elect a clerk and treasurer for one year

We will elect a moderator from among members present to preside at the meeting.

Aisha Ansano, Board Chair

“Where do we find that space of connecting, of belonging. Really, that space  where there is no other.”  — bell hooks

Connection is a lifeline. To extend oneself, to belong to something larger. Inviting a conversation outside of one’s head or examining an internal relationship, perhaps to bring it into a state of balance.

That internal state of balance is one of the underlying losses during the pandemic that is rising to the surface for some of us as we emerge—in whatever ways we do, don’t or can’t emerge—from these last three years. There’s a yearning for a long-promised return to “normal” even when we know there is no normal and that what society has called “normal” was problematic, full of injustices and oppressive systems that continue to hurt so many of us.

Living through a time when our lives depended on our distance from one another and when breathing in the same space together could be deadly, some of us were able to question, “How can I possibly find safety and still have a sense of connection?” And some of us didn’t have the ability or choice to be safely distanced. At no time in recent history have we been so in need of connection and so uncertain about the means or the consequences of such contact.

Now, many of us are having to relearn how to connect and who to connect with. Even before we reach out to other people, we may have to go through a process of considering how connected or disconnected we are with ourselves. We’re, at once, catching up with and reinventing our lives and the process can be overwhelming. Even in writing this, we are feeling the challenges of reintegrating into some kind of new rhythm. We are bridging our own gap between what was and what is now, who we were and who we are becoming to meet this new reality. And we’ve needed a lot of patience and compassion, trust and love, both for ourselves and for each other, so that we can help create whatever happens next, personally and societally.

We’ve weathered our own losses and made dramatic changes to what we do in the world. And, like a snake shedding its skin, this new layer is still tender as we grow into it.

As songwriters, we connect best to ourselves and to the world through our music. What keeps us most rooted to the larger community is that we’re activist songwriters. Our job is to listen closely to people’s stories, especially stories that are silenced or obscured by dominant culture, and amplify those stories through songs that invite you to close your eyes and sink into a steady rhythm, shed a tear for a story of someone you’ve never even met, shout down an injustice or celebrate in joyful harmony.

Music creates a web of connection. It suspends a moment in time for us to get a closer look at what’s really going on, what we feel in our hearts and in our bodies: the loss, the pain, the power of what’s possible when we join together to create change. The song can reveal for us how we’re all connected in a moment in time. What things in our lives have we done that led to that moment. And what things have we not done that led us here. What needs have we paid attention to and what needs have we not.

In March of 2020, we started leading a weekly songwriting class that is still ongoing. We began the class so that we would have some source of income when all our gigs disappeared but we have found that it went much further than that, keeping us connected to our own writing as we pass on what we’ve learned over our decades of writing songs and giving our students an opportunity to hone and strengthen their skills, an expanding exploration into themselves—what they care about, what they love, what makes them laugh, what brings them comfort. We also started a weekly Sunday online gathering that included teaching our songs, inviting guest artists to teach theirs and joining together for monthly concerts. (The videos are archived on our YouTube channel and our Facebook page.) These gatherings lasted until the end of 2022 and were a touchstone for people—including some who were isolated because of health concerns, disability or geography—a place they could come every week, make friends and be in community. It was a touchstone for us, too, because it provided us with a routine for doing music and being part of and caring for a community. While we miss those gatherings, the demands of planning for and performing in person again require more of our time.

Writing, singing, performing with and to an audience has all shifted in these times but the power of music and song to connect us remains strong. Music super charges connection. The message goes deeper when it’s carried in a tender or powerful melody. It spreads farther as we carry these songs, sometimes through many years of our lives. As the CLF community knows well, people can still sing together, with the music physically vibrating in them and from them, helping to create a moment of sanctuary, even if our surroundings are not a sanctuary or a moment of collective power and unity, even when we are singing from our own separate spaces. May we each find that place of connection, of belonging. That space where there is no other.

How do you cultivate and sustain friendship? What role does friendship play in your life?

Russell
CLF Member, incarcerated in MD

This may sound ridiculous to some people but, I didn’t know what actual friendship was until I got sentenced to Life Without Parole. When I found all of my known family and the people I considered friends fleeing my side, I felt devastated. I felt betrayed, neglected, rejected, lied to, and despised by everyone that I ever knew who said they loved me.

In this abject abandonment I held on to one sacred truth: “I still love me!” I was the only friend I actually ever had regardless of who rode with me through my hard times or smiled alongside me on the ones that were good! And as long as that love resided in me, the people who were truly meant to be in my life would damn sure show up. Why? Because I never gave up on myself. Friendship means never giving up on a friend.

It took me hitting absolute rock bottom to learn that that’s where I’d find all the true friends I would ever need in this world! When I felt that I “lost” all these people I previously knew, the truth is that I realized that I never “had” them. Learning how to be my own best friend prepared me for being another person’s best friend, not to be quick to judge them in their circumstances, how do I know what I would do if the shoe were on the other foot? Be honest but understanding, not laying out ones faults but helping them through them. And above this, love them for loving you! Not to seek to use them for personal gain, or violate their privacy when you feel inadequate. In doing this, a Twin-Like bond will appear and the communication will always continue to improve. Friendship is a word made up of Friend and a Ship. If two Friends work together there will always be Smoooooooth Sailing!

“We are writing this in pencil, not etching it in stone.”  — from the Article II Study Commission Report 1/17/23

One of the defining characteristics of our Unitarian Universalist faith is that ours is a “living tradition.” We do not etch our faith in stone precisely because we hold sacred that it must change. It must adapt to new challenges, it must meet new understandings, and it must evolve based on new experiences and connections.

This change includes our most central language as well, which is why our Association’s Bylaws mandate regular reviews of Article II of the UUA Bylaws, better known as the Principles, Sources, and Purposes of Unitarian Universalism.

The current version of how we articulate the center of Unitarian Universalism is the seven Principles. Those principles were introduced to us in 1985, and were a significant change from the concepts that preceded them. Their passage was not without disagreement, some of which was rooted in a love for the 1961 language.

In mid-January 2023, the commission that has been faithfully working for the past two years released their proposal for an Article II that leads our faith into the future. Most dramatically, it replaces our Principles with seven core Values, each of which comes with a charge to each of us, expressed as a covenant.

The values are centered on Love, named as a spiritual discipline that holds us together, and are named as Interdependence, Pluralism, Justice, Transformation, Generosity, and Equity. There’s even a beautiful graphic representation of them in the report. There are more words, of course. And most of what we love about our current Principles lives on in some version in our Covenant.

Of course, this is the central document for the Unitarian Universalist Association, centered in the United States. It is not the guiding force for UU congregations outside of our Association—including non-UUA member congregations elsewhere in our world. It remains to be seen how this understanding of Unitarian Universalism might ripple out and be transformed as it meets the realities of other cultural understandings of our faith. I hope it changes as it does so. It’s a living tradition, after all.

I hope that CLF members will read the report and reflect on this new way of understanding our Unitarian Universalist faith. Delegates to the 2023 UUA General Assembly will vote on a final version of this proposal in June. We will likely hold engagement sessions over the next few months as materials come available to do so. Keep your email open for such announcements.

A little girl said to her make-believe best of friends:
“Today, I shall light a white candle.
No wait, maybe a green one, or
Perhaps an orange and a red.
There are so many to choose from —
Why not one of each color?
Yea! That will do,” and so she told her make-believe best
of friends,
“We shall see
A white light
A green light
A red light
A brown light
A black light, and even a
Blue light, and let’s not forget,
An orange light.”
And so she lit one of each —
Only to find that the rainbow of colors
She had hoped for, got lost somewhere in the dark.
Should she cry and wait for Mom to come
To help her look for the rainbow of color lights?
Her make-believe best of friends said,
“Wait, call no one. Look, do you see?
All the tiny flames, their heat and their light
Are the same, and just as bright.”
Even the space which separates one candle and the other
Can not change the sameness.
Oneness was born in the mind of the child.
Colors like skin and like many dresses were only robes
Which neither added nor subtracted anything from the flames of the chalice.

Colors are stronger than light:
They blind the darkened mind
From seeing the same flame in one, as in the other,
Including the reflection of “mine.”

Would you like to represent the Church of the Larger Fellowship at General Assembly (GA) this summer?

The CLF is entitled to 22 delegates at the UUA’s General Assembly, which will be held both online and in-person in Pittsburgh, PA from June 21-25, 2023. You will be able to attend online or in-person workshops, programs, and worship services.

Proof of vaccination for COVID-19 is required to attend in person. As a delegate you will vote on association business during General Sessions. General Sessions will be held from 2:30-5:30pm ET on 6/22-6/24 and 2:00-4:00pm PT on 6/25. Delegates should be able to be online or in person to attend the majority of these General Sessions. CLF delegates vote their conscience on matters related to the denomination of Unitarian Universalism, and are responsible for their own expenses. There is no registration fee for delegates who are attending only for business virtually at General Sessions.

If you’d like to participate in GA 2023 in this role, please fill out the online application. Visit the UUA’s GA website for details.

In 2019 the Rev. Bill Sinkford and the wonderful staff at First Unitarian Portland invited me to join them for “Seminary for a Day,” when we reflected together on how our inherited liberal tradition is accountable to the theological work of liberation. Such transformation is central to the promise I find in our living tradition. I rarely speak of liberal theology in isolation unless specifically asked to do so. This conversation, this accountability, and this transformation are why I consistently draw on my understanding of our liberal and liberating faith. So what does that ask of us in this season where we are working together on expressing our highest values in community?

Recently the Rev. Dennis McCarty in his blog “Thoughts from a Gentle Atheist,” reminded us of the central values of Unitarian Universalism. He writes, “The worthiness of the human condition is one… investigation, research, and intellectual growth is another. Openness to change produced by that intellectual investigation and research is a crucial third.” This promise is described in the current language of Article II as “a free and responsible search for truth and meaning,” and in the latest proposed draft for a revised Article II as both a promise to “collectively transform and grow spiritually and ethically,” as well as “learn from one another in our free and responsible search for truth and meaning.” The human worthiness that Rev. McCarty highlights is beautifully reflected across both versions, and both call us to the work of justice.

Latin American liberation theologies often speak of a preferential option for the poor, but also for a range of inequities in our living. The “preferential option” teaches that God themself, the work of the Church writ large, our values, and our wisdom are centered on those most impacted by systemic oppression. Traditionally one might say that if we want to know God, we need to live in solidarity with those facing the injustices of poverty and class oppression.

Unitarian Universalists might say that we are most able to co-create the All-Embracing Love that our tradition teaches us when we center those most impacted by long established systems of injustice. We save one another, and remake the sacredness of the world, through prioritizing what is truly needed for that remaking. Anything less drives us away from our faithful living.

Today’s Unitarian Universalism asks us to re-engage the largest questions of our living in the service of liberation. I want a Unitarian Universalism that troubles the waters of what we mean by freedom, just as the Rev. Dr. Mark Morrison Reed asked of us quite some time ago. I want a Unitarian Universalism that offers up its power and authority in the service of justice, and embraces new learning and surprise as sacred offerings. This especially when our beloveds directly impacted by injustice over generations somehow still welcome us when we show up in the spirit of lamentation, regret, determination, and a deeply invested discipline of hopefulness that together we might yet survive.

My hard-won hopefulness, as Ecowomanist scholar the Rev. Dr. Melanie Harris would call it, is that many of you might want to build a Unitarian Universalism together that is humble, that demands little from those who have been made to sacrifice much, and that prioritizes its commitments to faithful living even when we don’t quite know how to make our way. That is the Unitarian Universalism that I believe in. Right now, I think it is on a journey from liberal to liberation. And I am orienting myself toward the day when those words have new and fully empowered meanings in the world.

What does liberation mean to you? What does it feel like, and how do you access it?

Russell
CLF Member, incarcerated in MD

I often hold deep discussions over the tier between me and my Brothers in Chains. The object is always to get each other to share what we’ve learned from life and insights we’ve gleaned while doing time.

Often this leads to arguments, but for the most part it leads to self discoveries. When I find myself learning something unexpected from a brother I feel elated at the new information. Especially when it destroys a long held belief of mine that is ultimately wrong.

This is liberation to me. A changed view. A new realization, some witty information I’m made aware of, or simply something I’ve deduced via the open conversation that leads me to a feeling of evolving and getting closer to a certain truth. Often, these revelations come simply because I don’t look for them, but keep an open mind. It is often said that liberation can not be obtained in its actual form in physical life. I have discovered this to be a lie.

Liberation is anything that frees you from your current state of ignorance. We alone can prevent our own liberation. I strive to be liberated in my everyday affairs!

The following is adapted from a sermon that Aisha gave in CLF online worship on Nov. 6, 2022.

A few years ago, I was having a conversation with a friend about learning to love myself fully, especially my body. I was jokingly explaining that I never learned to dress myself in a way that was truly flattering to my body type. She explained that the problem wasn’t that I didn’t know, it was that I was conditioned through marketing to think fashion looked a certain way and only on certain bodies. Primarily what looks good on thin, white women — and those things simply didn’t look good on me.

She suggested I follow plus sized, Black women on social media. She sent me invitations to gorgeous Black models and activists who I continue to follow.

As their posts showed up in my feed, I was able to expand my notion of what is beautiful and as time went on, I was able to see myself through a more expansive and generous lens.

These fashionistas are unapologetic, fierce and simply beautiful.

One of the people I found myself in awe of was Leah Vernon, a Black Woman whose posts continue to expand my imagination with regards to fashion, because she does not exist in a prescribed paradigm. She is the author of a new book, Unashamed: Musings of a Fat, Black Muslim.

Through Leah’s posts and those of Black leaders like, Sonia Renee Taylor, Ijeoma Oluo, Jessamyn Stanely and adrienne maree brown, among others, I was able to change my perception of beauty through changing the default of what I was exposed to throughout my entire life.

Through a friend’s recommendation, I was able to challenge assumptions I held about myself and about beauty for my entire life. This has helped me experience beauty differently and in a much more liberated and loving way, for myself and others.

This brings me to an email the CLF received a while back about the assumptions the writer seemed to hold. The person, who is not incarcerated, wrote to us asking why they seemed to be getting the “prison ministry version of Quest.” They said that, though they support work with incarcerated people, it is not their work, and they have no interest in being a part of that ministry — they would simply like to get the traditional version of Quest.

Over two long email responses, I told this CLF member that as we center liberation at the CLF, we care about giving opportunities for all to grow an awareness that extends beyond an intellectual understanding that there are “people in prison.” For those of us who are not experiencing incarceration, reading the thoughts and feelings of those who are is powerful. I invited this member to consider the possibility that they have something to learn and be moved by something written by someone whose words you may not otherwise be exposed to, and emphasized that the Worthy Now Prison Ministry is not separate from the ministry of the CLF. We are one entity and one congregation that centers Unitarian Universalist values of community care.

This exchange and the response of this person to the changes in Quest, a publication that for decades centered primarily on the words of ordained clergy, had me thinking about assumptions being made about others.

We are a faith community that does not promise heaven or hell. In essence, we are trying to figure it out. Why are we here? What does it all mean? How do we navigate this beautiful, scary, joyful and painful thing we call life?

I don’t have answers to these questions and the hard truth is no one really does with any degree of accuracy. No one is an expert at being human, not even faith leaders.

What we can offer as faith leaders is a place to grapple with the questions and create a container that invites into an expansive and loving way of being.

Faith leaders receive training to become either ordained, credentialed, or lay leaders in order to have a shared understanding of the container we are creating. Faith leadership is not a science, it is where those given the sacred charge of ministry (in all its forms) choose to be in an accountable relationship with the members of the congregation and in many ways an accountable relationship to UUism itself. I center UU values in how I approach my faith leadership, a leadership rooted in religious education.

Revelation is not sealed, and as part of the search for truth and meaning, learning from those most impacted by oppression is a crucial way to learn the ways we need to do better and love more as we work to dismantle systems that actively cause harm.

When the three of us, the current Lead Ministry Team, started our leadership of the CLF, one of the aspects of this ministry we knew we wanted to transform was that of Quest and how this publication can more faithfully serve all of our members, both incarcerated and free world.  The three of us were in agreement that Quest can both include reflections and sermons from faith leaders and our members, both incarcerated and those that are “free.”

In the email I referenced earlier, this CLF member took exception to being called a “free world member.” In retrospect, I realize that this person is accidentally correct to take exception to this term.

As Fannie Lou Hammer said, “Nobody’s free until everybody’s free.”

Every day in the U.S., it is painfully clear how those in power who want to affirm white supremacy and patriarchy are doing all they can to make sure no one is truly free. The rights of half the population have been taken away with the overturning of Roe vs. Wade. There are hundreds of anti-trans bills across the United States and there are people running for office in the U.S. that are running on platforms of intentional disenfranchisement of those with target identities. While the CLF is based in the U.S, the results of policies enacted by the U.S. government impact people all over the world.

It is more important than ever that those of us in faith leadership positions center the voices of those most cruelly impacted by the systems of oppression that harm us all.

However, those with privileged identities have been deceived into believing they are separate and somehow protected from oppression. This is a lie. Humans are inextricably connected and the destinies of the most powerful are tied to the most marginalized, history has demonstrated this over and over.

Countries with wealth disparities like the ones we have now in the United States do not last, and in fact topple.

We have an opportunity to save ourselves by caring for each other and learning from each other by being open to the reflections from those who are most in harm’s way. Not only Black people, but also indigenous people, trans people, immigrants, those with seen and unseen disabilities, but also learning from people who are incarcerated, most holding some or all of the identities I just listed.

Let us embrace the opportunity to be nourished and impacted by the reflections of people we may never meet in person, but whose lives matter.

I want to share with you the words of Joseph, an incarcerated UU and CLF member. Joseph shared their reflection of the idea of sacrifice. They write:

The value of sacrifice is relative. Without sacrifice, I would not be here living life as I know it. If my mother hadn’t sacrificed her time and put her dreams on hold, then she wouldn’t have been able to raise me so lovingly. She was 20 years old, barely an adult and I feel certain I wasn’t planned. She probably had many other plans. Maybe traveling, concentrating on school. I thank mom for her sacrifice, it was very valuable to me.

Some sacrifices seem small to us but can be very valuable to the recipient. Perhaps you sacrifice some time once a week to go visit a nursing home. If you have spare time, you would normally watch TV or spend it on the internet, you could make a sacrifice that is of little value to you, but could be of enormous value to the nursing home resident who has no family.

Our sacrifices are offering to the group soul of humanity. No matter how small or large, if it does good for one, it is good for all. Depending on my commitment and intention, my sacrifice doesn’t have to be public. When things are done without my attachment to the result, they are more pure and powerful. Some sacrifice all their lives, in order that others may live. Some make small sacrifices of that social awkwardness to overcome that to share a kind word with a stranger. No matter how small a good thing is, it is still good.

In sharing their reflections in Quest, incarcerated CLF members — people who have had their freedom taken away — are now giving the gift of their presence and reflections.

It is incumbent upon those of us with more privilege to examine our assumptions and do what we can to learn from those most impacted by this cruel and harmful system we call the United States. It is incumbent upon us to center love, community, compassion and liberation.

May we be humble in how we receive and move through this faith community and the world.

Last night, I awakened
from a dream
I dreamed of an America
in which those sworn to protect
and serve, abused and killed instead
An America whose hunger turned barbed
wire into shredded wheat and
stomachs became caskets
An America where masks were discarded
and grown men hid under sheets
as they stormed halls of democracy
An America who forgot her history
her polls claiming hate was history
an animal extinct like polar ice caps
An America in which no one escaped the
brutality of law and order ran amok
or escaped the massacre in a nightclub
or massage parlor
or a high school
or a supermarket
An America that claimed there were “good” Nazis
but… didn’t Uncle Sam go to war
to stop the goose-stepping in ‘44?
An America where a wall grew in a
land that once told a foreign leader
to “tear down this wall”
An America where hatemongers
quoted the words of Dr. King
and you are no longer safe in a church
An America whose Statue of Liberty
was silenced, her torch gone cold
the ashes our new mascara
An America whose populace quaked
slouching towards a coming apocalypse
Was it just a dream?

Gary
CLF member, incarcerated in SC

Our theme for the month of November is comunidad // community. In honor of that bilingual theme and the Spanish-speaking members of our CLF family, some parts of this issue of Quest are in both English and Spanish. Would you like to see more Spanish language content from the CLF? Please write to us with your thoughts, we would love to hear from you! As always, we’re so grateful to be in community with you.

Nuestro tema para el mes de noviembre es comunidad // community. En honor a este tema bilingüe y a los miembros de habla hispana de nuestra familia CLF, algunas partes de esta edición de Quest están en inglés y en español. ¿Les gustaría ver más contenido en español de CLF?  Escríbanos por favor con sus pensamientos, ¡nos encantaría saber de ustedes! Como siempre, estamos muy agradecidos de estar en comunidad con ustedes.

Our hearts break open for the pain of the world. For the pain of our planet, whose delicate balance has come undone, and for all her creatures. For mudslides and floods, for rising seas and melting ice, for storms and droughts.

Our hearts break open for the pain of nations. For the cries of war, for the brutality of despots and dictators. For bombs and guns, trained on enemies whose hearts beat the same as ours. For leaders whose greed goes unchecked while their people starve, whose anger defies reason and ignores compassion.

Our hearts break open for the pain of communities. For hatred that marches down the street, and for history that has not yet been relegated to the past. For acts of terror that leave blood in their wake, for cries for help that go unanswered, for every time those sworn to protect instead inflict harm, for the brutality of our carceral state.

Our hearts break open for the pain in our homes. For sickness and death, for abuse and its aftermath. For those we desperately want to help but cannot. For relationships that require constant work, and for the anger that erupts to signal yet more work is needed. For children who struggle to keep up, bodies that no longer do what we want them to, and siblings who lose sight of what is most precious. Our hearts break open for the everyday pain that being connected and vulnerable brings to us.

Our hearts break open for the pain in our hearts. For the mistakes we’re still beating ourselves up over. For the imperfections we have yet to embrace. For relationships we have lost and fear are irreconcilable, amends we have yet to make with those we have hurt, and the unfinished business of forgiving ourselves. Our hearts break open for life.

If you care about the world, your heart breaks open on a regular basis. If you care about another person, your heart breaks open on a regular basis. This business we call life, it breaks our hearts open wide. Again and again. And as our hearts break open, we have an opportunity to put them back together differently—to put them back together connected to one another.

Juana Bordas, in her book Salsa, Soul, and Spirit, challenges us to move from “I” to “we,” from the individualism rampant in modern-day European and Euro-American society to a collectivism found in Native American, Latino, African, and African-American communities. As Bordas writes from her own experience, “Latinos cherish belonging, group benefit, mutuality, and reciprocity. Interdependency, cooperation, and mutual assistance are the norm.”

Forming real relationships in community means engaging in the vulnerability of exposing our hearts to the world. And it means finding ways to engage in healing our hearts together—as one community, as a “we” instead of simply a collection of individuals. Forming real community means finding ways of mutuality and connection.

Beloved, you are not alone. You are part of a “we” that extends beyond your understanding. Let us knit our hearts together in community and commit ourselves to mutuality, curiosity, reciprocity, and cooperation.

//

Nuestros corazones se rompen y se abren por el dolor del mundo. Por el dolor de nuestro planeta, cuyo delicado equilibrio se ha roto, y por todas sus criaturas. Por avalanchas de barro e inundaciones, por el aumento del nivel del mar y el derretimiento del hielo, por tormentas y sequías.

Nuestros corazones se rompen y se abren por el dolor de las naciones. Por los gritos de guerra, por la brutalidad de déspotas y dictadores. Por bombas y cañones dirigidos a enemigos cuyos corazones laten igual que el nuestro. Por líderes cuya codicia crece incontrolable mientras su gente se muere de hambre, y cuya ira desafía la razón e ignora la compasión.

Nuestros corazones se rompen y se abren por el dolor de las comunidades. Por el odio que marcha calle abajo, y por la historia que aún no ha quedado relegada en el pasado. Por los actos de terror que dejan sangre a su paso, por los gritos de auxilio que quedan sin respuesta, por cada vez que los que juraron protegernos hacen daño, por la brutalidad de nuestro estado carcelario.

Nuestros corazones se rompen y se abren por el dolor en nuestros hogares. Por la enfermedad y la muerte, por el abuso y sus secuelas. Por aquellos que queremos ayudar desesperadamente pero no podemos. Por las relaciones que requieren un trabajo constante, y por la ira que estalla para indicar que se necesita más trabajo. Por los niños que luchan para no quedarse atrás, por los cuerpos que ya no hacen lo que queremos que hagan y por los hermanos que pierden de vista lo más preciado. Nuestros corazones se rompen y se abren por el dolor cotidiano que nos causa el estar conectados y vulnerables.

Nuestros corazones se rompen y se abren por el dolor en nuestros corazones. Por los errores por los que todavía nos estamos castigando. Por las imperfecciones que aún tenemos que aceptar. Por las relaciones que hemos perdido y que tememos son irreconciliables, por las enmiendas que aún tenemos que hacer con aquellos a quienes hemos lastimado y la tarea pendiente de perdonarnos a nosotros mismos. Nuestros corazones se rompen y se abren por la vida.

Si te preocupas por el mundo, tu corazón se rompe y se abre regularmente. Si te preocupas por otra persona, tu corazón se rompe y se abre regularmente. Este asunto que llamamos vida, nos rompe y abre el corazón de par en par. Una y otra vez. Y a medida que nuestros corazones se rompen y se abren, tenemos la oportunidad de volver a unirlos de manera diferente, de volver a unirlos conectados con otros corazones.

Juana Bordas, en su libro Salsa, Alma y Espíritu, nos desafía a pasar del “yo” al “nosotros,” del individualismo desenfrenado de la sociedad europea y euroamericana de hoy en día a un colectivismo que se encuentra en los nativos americanos, los latinos, las comunidades africanas y afroamericanas. Según escribe Bordas a partir de su propia experiencia, “los latinos valoran la pertenencia, el beneficio grupal, la colaboración y la reciprocidad. La interdependencia, la cooperación y la asistencia mutua son la norma.”

Formar relaciones reales en comunidad significa comprometerse con la vulnerabilidad de exponer nuestros corazones al mundo. Y significa encontrar formas de participar juntos en la sanación de nuestros corazones, como una comunidad, como un “nosotros”, en lugar de simplemente una colección de individuos. Formar una comunidad real significa encontrar formas de reciprocidad y conexión.

Amados, no están solos. Son parte de un “nosotros” que se extiende más allá de su comprensión. Unamos nuestros corazones en comunidad y comprometámonos con la colaboración, la curiosidad, la reciprocidad y la cooperación.

Who makes up your community? What role does community play in your life?

On Community

Talib (Anthony)
CLF Member, incarcerated in IL

My community consists of two parts: 1) my fellow prisoners, and 2) those who correspond, speak on the phone, or visit. Each plays a necessary role helping me to maintain some semblance of mental and physical stability.

I’ve been incarcerated for almost 17 years, and if it wasn’t for my community I don’t believe that I’d be here writing this for you. They have been there in my loneliest moments, my rock bottom, and have talked me back from the edge.

The first part of my community that I’d like to talk about is my fellow prisoners. There are guys who I’ve known for over a decade, living day-in and day-out with them; they know me better than my own family does. There is your cellmate: when you live in a bathroom with another person for years, you can’t help but develop a bond with them. You eat together, sleep around them, celebrate birthdays and holidays together, and when you’re going through hard times, that’s who you share them with. You are at your most vulnerable around them.

Beyond the cellmate, you also develop a familial bond with those around you. When you do so much time, you are living a life, and when you have people that do that much time with you, they become your family — you end up sharing big life moments together. When a brother of mine became a grandfather, he shared that with me. He got off the phone and called out to me, beaming, “Talib, my daughter just had a kid. I’m a grandpa!”

There were years that I went without anyone because my family and friends on the outside had abandoned me to live their own lives. I had nothing coming in, no one to help, and I had to rely only on my own devices. I had to build a community of people around me in here who helped when I needed it the most: they supported my business, they would cook and send me something to eat, and if I was in desperate need, all I had to do was ask them for help.

A quick anecdote that puts it into perspective: my last night in a maximum security prison, my property was packed up, so I had nothing, and the cellhouse had already gone to commissary that day. My friends and neighbors all contributed food items and snacks, and they cooked burritos to celebrate my transfer to a medium security prison. They even threw me a going away party.

Now, I’d like to speak on the second part of my community: those who correspond with me, speak on the phone, or visit from the outside. I’d like to speak directly to those who are reading this who write to individuals in prison — you are so important. You are our connection to a world outside of this one, and sometimes a connection to a community that some of us have never known.

I know that it may not always seem like it, or maybe you have a pen pal who asks for so much that it seems they are taking advantage of you, but remember that you may be the most important connection that person has. Imagine that you have been starving for years, barely surviving on scraps, and then someone comes to you with a plate of doughnuts. Are you going to take just one and nibble on it? No, you’re probably going to devour as many as you can before the plate gets taken away. As a pen pal on the outside, you may be the first person who’s cared about them in a long time.

Sending books, magazines, and anything else; taking the time to write or answer the phone; and caring about our wellbeing all goes a long way in making us feel connected to the outside world. We lean on you out there. We do not have the means to connect to the world, nor the resources to obtain the means — you are that.

Human beings are social in nature, and community is key to our survival. It is no different for those of us who are in prison. We lose so much when we’re incarcerated, so we turn to connection and community to survive, mentally and physically. My community has helped me to make it through.

I appreciate all those in my community, inside and out. You’re the reason that I’m able to write this.

Correctional Community

Gary
CLF member, incarcerated in SC

Prison is a microcosm of the larger society. You will find individuals from virtually every walk of life serving time. I have met former doctors, dentists, attorneys, police officers, airline pilots, business owners, ministers and people from all aspects of society. Just as in every community.

Rare, however, is that sense of community behind these walls. Prison often acts to separate and even isolate individuals in a “me versus the rest of the world” mentality. Feelings of having to constantly be “on guard” and being unable to extend trust and friendship for fear of being taken as “weak” is bred into the atmosphere.

The foundation of any community is trust. Attributes of community are a sense of responsibility and unity. Overcoming the despair and sense of isolation requires the willingness to step out in faith, extend oneself, and become vulnerable.

Here at MacDougall C.I. in South Carolina there exists this sense of community. The Men Achieving Character or MAC Unit is built upon the community mind orientation to foster a prosocial environment, accountability, spiritual growth, and responsibility to each other and ourselves. Acceptance, zero-tolerance for violence or conduct degrading to humanity for oneself is enforced.

This bond is unique. It acts to reverse all the negativity so often found behind the wire and replace it with a spirit of community. Built upon teamwork, a positive mental attitude, and social responsibility, one is typically greeted by others with a smile and “good morning”; there are random acts of kindness and generosity, and an environment that encourages development of skills leading to a successful transition back into the larger society.

Acceptance, tolerance, kindness, a spirit of unity: all these are vital components of my community here.

“Where two or more are gathered
There I am also…”
(Adapted from Matthew 18:20)

In a recent conversation with other religious professionals at Liberal Religious Educators Association (LREDA) Fall Con—the annual conference for religious educators—Aisha Hauser, one of our CLF lead ministers,  invited us to name what gives us joy and what sustains us in these difficult times that feel like a slow-moving apocalypse. Some of us named family, and some of us named fun hobbies; what became clear in that conversation was that communal joy, and the sharing of it, was a key ingredient to gaining resilience in these challenging times. Community gives us strength and amplifies joy. Knowing that we are part of something larger than ourselves can be comforting, it can help us feel less buffeted by the challenges of our lives.

The Church of the Larger Fellowship is just that: a great community of communities made up of people connected and committed to reminding each other that we are more together, that we can take turns at the resistance, that cultivating and growing communal joy is part of what helps us stay stronger and focused on the collective liberation and transformation of all.

One of the tasks of the Nominating Committee is to help our community leadership stay fresh and strong. The Nom Com knows that the lead ministry team and staff of our church need the energy and joy and enthusiasm of leaders to co-create our future. Does CLF help you grow your joy and keep your eyes on the prize? Would you like to join leadership teams to continue to work for liberation and transformation at church?

Nominating is seeking individuals who are actively involved in our congregation to assist how we engage in ministry, leadership, and governance together. Specifically, we are looking for individuals to serve on Nominating who are committed to matching peoples’ gifts with opportunities to contribute and who understand the role of Nominating in widening the circle of care and leadership on Nominating and the Board.

We are also seeking individuals to serve on the Board who are deeply rooted in Unitarian Universalism. The Board and Nom Com are explicitly seeking ways to incorporate CLF members with personal or familial experience with incarceration, as we continue the journey of involving incarcerated and recently incarcerated members in leadership opportunities.

Please let us know if you or someone you know is interested in this way of investing in our community. Email nominating@clfuu.org with the subject “Board/Committee Interest” and let us know if you would like to learn more about leadership opportunities at CLF, or if you think someone in your circles would be an excellent person to recruit.  Thank you!

//

En una conversación reciente con otros profesionales religiosos en la reunión anual de Liberal Religious Educators Association (LREDA)—la asociación de directores liberales de educación religiosa—Aisha Hauser, miembra del equipo líder de CLF, nos invitó a nombrar lo que nos da alegría y nos ayuda a sobrellevar estos tiempos tan difíciles. Algunos de nosotros nombramos actividades creativas, y otros nombramos la importancia de nuestras familias; lo que quedó muy claro en nuestra conversación es que la alegría comunal, y el poder compartirla, es un ingrediente fundamental para generar resiliencia en estos tiempos de apocalipsis lenta.

La Iglesia de la Gran Comunidad es exactamente eso: una gran comunidad compuesta de otras comunidades más pequeñas, todas con personas conectadas y comprometidas a recordarnos los unos a los otros que juntos somos más, que podemos tomar turnos en la resistencia, que al cultivar y crecer la alegría comunal estamos ayudándonos a mantener la fuerza y el enfoque hacia la liberación y la transformación de todas las personas y todas las instituciones.

Una de las tareas del Comité de Nombramiento es ayudar a mantener un liderazgo comunal que es fuerte y vital. El Com Nom (nuestra abreviación cariñosa) sabe que el equipo líder y el personal que trabaja en nuestra iglesia necesitan la alegría y la energía y el entusiasmo de nuestros muchos líderes en esta gran comunidad, para co-crear nuestro futuro. ¿Te ayuda esta Iglesia de la Gran Comunidad a crecer tu alegría y mantener tu compromiso a la liberación? ¿Te gustaría unirte a los equipos de liderazgo que también están comprometidos a este cambio?

El Comité de Nombramiento busca a individuos que ya son activos en nuestra gran comunidad y que quieren asistir en nuestros esfuerzos de ministerio, gobernancia y cambio. Específicamente, buscamos a gente que tiene la habilidad de aparear los dones naturales de las personas con oportunidades para contribuir, y que entienden que este comité juega un papel importante al crecer el círculo de cuidado y atención en nuestra comunidad.

También buscamos a individuos que les interesa ofrecer sus habilidades en la Junta Directiva, y que ya tienen una profunda conexión al Universalismo Unitario. La Junta Directiva y el Comité de Nombramiento están conduciendo una búsqueda explícita de miembros de la Iglesia de la Gran Comunidad que tienen experiencia directa (en persona o en familia cercana) con el sistema de encarcelamiento. Deseamos seguir explorando oportunidades de liderazgo en particular para esos miembros.

Déjenos saber si tú o algún conocido tiene/n interés en este tipo de contribución a nuestra comunidad. Manda un email a nominating@clfuu.org con el tema “Interés en la Junta Directiva/Comité” y haznos saber a quien debemos invitar, o si quieres recibir más información.  ¡Gracias!

The CLF Nominating Committee: Michele Grove, Gail Forsyth-Vail, Debra Gray Boyd, and Julica Hermann de la Fuente

Down the cliffs to the black sand of the Pa’iloa beach, and right on the shore, was an opening. Not a comfortable one for me. It was just big enough to fit my body, but I had to bend down and contort myself a bit to make my way through it. Once inside and able to stand, I realized I was in a small lava tube that sat right at the shoreline of the beach. It was absolutely stunning. Black rocks wide enough to sit on and black sand everywhere, all as a result of lava flows hundreds of years before. An opening to the ocean let the Pacific in, waves crashing and settling right at my feet.

I won’t lie. It was scary. I’m not a swimmer. Those classes I took 30 years ago, without a lot of access to pools and large bodies of water in my everyday life, mean very little to me now. And so the idea that I was even in this tiny space with water coming in and out made me question myself. It was pretty and everything, but it seemed dangerous. A large swell could fill this little cave with water at any moment, and I’d be left with very few options to protect myself beyond trusting my body or mind to do what they need to do to get me out. Before I knew it, I was already in a space of worry and regret that I’d even bothered to go in.

But the word ‘trust’ stirred me in ways I wasn’t expecting. I was reminded of a book I’d been reading off an on over the last year called Undrowned: Black Feminist Lessons from Marine Mammals by Alexis Pauline Gumbs. In it, she offers these words about surrender:

And what happens if we just let go? Like dolphins who beach themselves on shore to eat, and trust the tide to bring them back into the water… What would it take to tune in with our environment enough to be in flow with the Earth, instead of in struggle against it.

As I began to reflect on the immediacy of my worry and lack of trust, and Alexis’ hopes for our surrender in her incredible book, I noticed my body start to settle into the moment. My breathing slowed. I started listening to the water and the sounds the waves made at different points of contact with the rocks and the walls of the lava tube I was finally able to sit down and rest in. I sat on one of those rocks for a long time, watching the water and feeling the waves as they ebbed and flowed. Truthfully, it was a lot to take in all at once. And it was okay that it turned out to be simultaneously tranquil and still a bit terrifying in the place where the waves and the land met.

Isn’t it not unlike the place where many of us find ourselves in our work of belonging and meaning-making?

Be well, dear ones.

What is the value of sacrifice? What are its downsides?

JASON
CLF Member, incarcerated in IL

Being in an institution, sacrifice takes on different meanings. Are you sacrificing time to help someone? Are you sacrificing your favorite food to save your money so that you can contribute to your religious service meal? Are you sacrificing your spot so someone else can experience something they haven’t, that you have?

Sacrifice becomes more personalized when you don’t have that much to begin with. So the value of sacrifice changes as well.

As an elder in the Wiccan service here, there have been times that guys from the service have called me out to the yard or out to a group room to have me help them. Knowing this is a possibility, I am happy to help, though not always right when I’m being asked. The sacrifice for me is knowing that there may be times I’ll be asked for help and even though I’m doing something else at the time, unless it’s something like legal work or something else equally serious, I will sacrifice what I’m doing to help my brethren.

Of course, the downside as shown above is the interruption of whatever I was doing. It can also mean loss of personal time that I might need to unwind from the stresses and pressures of being in an institution.

I used sacrificing a favorite food to save money to contribute to a service meal as an example. Some guys walk a delicate balance of what they buy off commissary and the very few things they eat from the dietary. So to have to sacrifice their commissary to contribute to a religious meal becomes a big deal. It then becomes a question of whether they are putting their health at risk just to contribute to a meal­—and for some that sacrifice is still worth it.

JOSEPH
CLF Member, incarcerated in NC

The value of sacrifice is relative. Without sacrifice, I would not be living life as I know it. If my mother hadn’t sacrificed her time and put her dreams on hold, then she wouldn’t have been able to raise me so lovingly. She was 20 years old when I was born, barely an adult, and I feel certain that I wasn’t planned. She probably held many other plans, like traveling and concentrating on school, before I came along. I thank my mother for her sacrifice — it was very valuable to me.

Some sacrifices seem small to us but can be very valuable to the recipient. Perhaps you sacrifice some time once a week to go visit a nursing home. If you have spare time, time you would normally spend watching TV or on the internet, you could make a sacrifice that is of little value to you, but could be of enormous value to the nursing home resident who has no family.

Our sacrifices are offerings to the group soul of humanity. No matter how small or large, if it does good for one, it is good for all. Depending on my commitment and intention, my sacrifice doesn’t have to be public. When things are done without my attachment to the result, they are more pure and powerful. Some sacrifice everything their whole lives so that others may live. Some make small sacrifices of their social awkwardness to share a kind word with a stranger. No matter how small a good thing is, it is still good.

LIAM
CLF Member, incarcerated in SC

For me, the act of sacrifice is allowing myself to feel the loss or absence of something that I took for granted. The immediate downside is that I no longer have the specific thing, but that feeling, like so many others, is temporary. The feeling that I get when I receive that missing thing is joy — pure, undiluted happiness. When I remember that cycle, I can learn to enjoy and cherish parts of my life more.

Most Sunday evenings, members of the Church of the Larger Fellowship with internet access gather for an online worship service. We are exploring ways to bring the spirit of those services to our many members who do not have regular internet access. The following is an abbreviated outline of a CLF worship service that can be read through or shared out loud in a gathering. Please feel free to make it your own, adding whatever music, ritual elements, and readings are most meaningful to you.

Opening Words & Chalice Lighting

We light our flaming chalice and enter into our worship service together with these words from CLF Learning Fellow, JeKaren Olaoya:

We light this chalice
As we come together
To center love
To create community
To honor the world we live in

Sharing of Joys & Sorrows

Every time we gather, we share what is most present in our lives. Whether you are arriving to this service full of excitement or with a heavy heart, take a moment to name that which you are carrying. You may write your joy or sorrow down, or share out loud with those in your gathering. We know that every joy shared is multiplied, and every sorrow shared is halved.

We hold these joys and sorrows with you, and say in response:

May we all be held in the heart of love

Sermon

Rev. Dr. Michael Tino; Lead Ministry Team, Church of the Larger Fellowship

Sixteenth century Jewish mystic Isaac Luria told a story of creation in which God, in order to make room to create the world, stored divine light in earthen vessels. Some of these jars broke, and the light that they stored scattered with the broken pieces of clay.

In Luria’s account of creation, the goal of humankind was to gather the divinity scattered with these shards, and to separate this sacred light from the sharp, jagged pieces of brokenness. Luria named this goal tikkun olam, the repair of the world.

Over the years, this calling has evolved into an understanding that the sacredness of our world is broken—torn apart by violence, oppression, injustice, and hatred—and that it is up to humanity to fix that brokenness in order to live up to our covenant with God.

Our Unitarian Universalist forebears saw this brokenness as well, and through the years handed down to us a religion that calls upon us to participate in the healing of creation.

Many of our Unitarian, Universalist, and UU ancestors have written about the calling of our faith to participate in the healing of relationships, including our relationship with the ultimate, about our calling to participate in the creation of liberation and justice, about our calling to participate in dismantling systems of oppression that divide humanity in part by assigning power to identity.

I feel like that’s something you hear a lot from us, from me. And while I could go on at length about it, today I want to go in a slightly different direction for this month in which we are focusing on healing: you are part of the world. We are each part of the world.

If we are to understand ourselves as part of the world and simultaneously commit ourselves to healing the world, we must see healing ourselves and others as part of that process.

Jewish feminist new-age storyteller and cancer survivor Deena Metzger writes about this connection.  Metzger understands the healing of the self—be it from diseases of the body or wounds of the soul—as integrally connected to the healing of our society as a whole.  While Metzger’s writing is concerned primarily with the physical healing of the self, it also addresses wounds of the soul–wounds of the spirit. She writes:

In my mind, there is a direct relationship between the healing of my body and the healing of the world. Where healing and peacemaking are one, they are the bridge between individual healing and the healing of the community. I do not ask for my healing without committing entirely to the healing of the other as the small possibilities of the healing of the world are sacred gifts extended to me as well. The world’s body. My body. The same. This is the very nature of healing.

Our Unitarian Universalist faith asks us to heal the world. It asks us to attend to the brokenness in our systems and our society. And it asks us to attend to the brokenness in ourselves, and the brokenness in our midst.

We each, every one of us, know something of brokenness. We have experienced it ourselves, we have witnessed it in others. And every one of us, know something of healing, of wholeness, even if that knowledge is hidden deep within our hearts under layers of scar tissue. Each of us has received negative messages of some sort about ourselves. Messages that make us question our self-worth, our inherent dignity.

Some of these messages are in the form of abuse, and out of respect for the diverse trauma histories in our community I want to name that and create a space for you to do what you need to do in order to protect yourself from the re-emergence of your trauma.

It is a sad reality that too often our brokenness comes from people who were supposed to love us, who were supposed to care for us, who were supposed to protect us. Too often, our brokenness comes from institutions—especially religious institutions—that were supposed to heal us, and instead they hurt us deeply.

I received those messages as well—messages that I was not worthy of respect and love because of who I was. I am thankful that they didn’t come from those closest to me, but they were present all around me. I internalized them. They broke me.

As a teenager, I didn’t know how to deal with that brokenness. I tried pretending I was someone I was not—that didn’t work. Ultimately, I rejected religion categorically because so many of the messages about my sexuality came from religious figures. I convinced myself that I would never find wholeness in a religious community, that all religion had to be avoided.

That led to more brokenness—deep within, I had a yearning for spirituality. A yearning for connection to something greater than myself. I had a yearning for a communal expression of our call to love and liberation, for a theological grounding to my justice work.

It wasn’t until I was a young adult that I learned that there was a religious tradition that preached love and acceptance, a tradition that insisted on the inherent worth and dignity of every person, a tradition that encouraged spiritual journeys and didn’t insist on a narrow theology.

Unitarian Universalism helped me heal some of the broken places within me. It helped me overcome the negative messages I had received about myself by teaching me that I was beautiful, that I was loved, that I was a bearer of the divine within me just as all people are. Slowly, the people I met who lived these values in the world again and again helped me put back together the pieces of me that had been broken off and hidden out of self-protection.

Our Unitarian Universalist religious community can be a place of healing for you as well.

In the context of religious community, we can come to recognize and name our brokenness.  We can also come to recognize and name our inherent worth and dignity. We can create communities of love to work on our healing—together. We can begin the process of healing. We can put together our own pieces of the jar holding the divine light within us.

Here you are loved.
Here you are whole.
Here you are holy.
Here your worth is affirmed.
May the love you find in this
community be a healing balm
to your soul.

Closing Words & Chalice Extinguishing

We extinguish our flaming chalice and close our worship service with these words from CLF Learning Fellow, JeKaren Olaoya:

We extinguish this chalice
As we depart this space
But never in our hearts
We carry the flame within

The following sermon was originally given at the service to formally install our Lead Ministry Team in their role as ministers of the Church of the Larger Fellowship, which took place on June 25, 2022, during UUA General Assembly in Portland, OR. 

Hello beloveds! What a joy to be here with you all this morning, celebrating the installation of the Lead Ministry Team of the Church of the Larger Fellowship! And what an honor to be asked to share a reflection with you all on this joyful occasion.

I have served on the Board of the Church of the Larger Fellowship for the past 4 years. I served as the Board liaison to the nominating committee, and on the search committee, and am now the President of the Board. And yet: when I was asked by the nominating committee if I would consider joining the Board, I was pretty sure I was going to say no.

I didn’t know much about the CLF at the time, and I didn’t think that I had the time or energy to serve on the Board. I was already feeling a little overwhelmed by all of my other commitments, and I had never served on a Board before, and I just didn’t think it was for me. I knew I would have to give something else up to do this work fully, that I didn’t want to say yes and then only serve half-heartedly. And so, I went into the conversation ready to say no.

I am so grateful that instead, I said yes.

I said yes because I learned what the CLF has been, is now, and can be. I said yes because my wildest dreams for Unitarian Universalism, my deepest hopes of what is possible for this faith, seemed possible because of the CLF. I said yes because I believe that the Church of the Larger Fellowship can help lead us to liberation. It is already doing so. I said yes because the CLF says yes — to justice, to radical welcome, to liberation. I said yes because there was really no other answer.

The Church of the Larger Fellowship has always held space in our denomination for folks on the margins— from our beginnings as a “correspondence church” for geographically isolated Unitarians to today, when over half our membership is incarcerated Unitarian Universalists, and many religious professionals, BIPOC UUs, and geographically- or otherwise-isolated UUs find their spiritual home here. The CLF has been, and continues to be, a place of radical welcome, a congregation that believes in the power of liberation and the potential of Unitarian Universalism to forge a way to that liberation. The CLF is a congregation that continually draws the margins toward the center, that invites us all to think about what is possible and how we might make it come true. The CLF is a place for big dreams and for trying new things, a place where there is so much space and excitement for innovation and experimentation.

The CLF has proclaimed, over and over, that the way we’ve always done things need not be the only way, and then forged ahead to make it so. Can we serve incarcerated Unitarian Universalists with love and dignity, in a system and a world that tries to convince them they have and deserve neither? Yes. Can we engage UUism and the questions of the moment through an anti-racist, anti-oppressive, multicultural lens? Yes. Can we call as the leadership of the largest UU congregation a collaborative team of religious professionals that break expectations? Yes. Can we do difficult, sometimes uncomfortable work with love, knowing that liberation is possible and that we can help make it so? Yes. Yes we can.

Cole Arthur Riley is a writer and poet who created the “Black Liturgies” project on Instagram. In her recent book This Here Flesh, Arthur Riley uses stories from her life to reflect on questions of spirituality and liberation. In a chapter entitled “Dignity,” she writes the following:

Our liberation begins with the irrevocable belief that we are worthy to be liberated, that we are worthy of a life that does not degrade us but honors our whole selves. When you believe in your dignity, or at least someone else does, it becomes more difficult to remain content with the bondage with which you have become so acquainted. You begin to wonder what you were meant for.

So, beloveds: what were we meant for? The wildest dreams of our spiritual ancestors could not have brought us here, and our wildest dreams may never take us where we need to be, but we are going to keep dreaming anyway, keep growing and shifting and trying again. We have a theological mandate for liberation, for worthiness, for honoring our true selves. We believe in our own dignity, and the dignity of others.

We are meant for liberation, for joy, for celebration. We are meant for justice, for compassion, for community. We—Unitarian Universalists, the Church of the Larger Fellowship, our free world and incarcerated and global members—we are meant for all of this, and more. So let us live into it, let us make these moves, let us believe deeply in liberation and act as though we do.

Aisha, Christina, Michael: the search committee chose you, the Board affirmed you, and today the members of the CLF install you, as our Lead Ministry Team, all because we trust your dreams for the future of this congregation and this denomination. This is a time for big dreams, for throwing open our arms and saying come, you have a place here.

But we cannot simply celebrate your dreams and leave you to fulfill them. We will follow your lead, yes, but we — members of the Church of the Larger Fellowship, and Unitarian Universalists throughout the denomination — we are also going to do this work alongside you. We must — that is the only way it can get done. Not because we don’t trust you to get it done — if I trusted any three people to make it happen, it surely would be the three of you — but because the work of liberation is collaborative, and is going to take all of us to fulfill it. Liberation is the work of community, of relationship, of coming together.

So beloveds — lead ministry team, CLF members, Unitarian Universalists — this is our time. Let us meet this moment, collaborate, and take a giant leap into together the belief that liberation is necessary, and possible, and that we all have a role to play.

Let’s create a world of justice and liberation now, together.

May it be so.

How do you cultivate awe and wonder in your life?

JOSEPH
CLF Member, incarcerated in NC

How do I cultivate awe and wonder in my life? These are actually byproducts of daily observations of my surroundings, and doing a mental or physical gratitude checklist. If I remain mindful of the many blessings and miracles of seemingly ordinary life, the ordinary becomes extraordinary.

For instance, every person, animal, insect, plant, mineral, atom, and subatomic particle has a purpose. That is an awesome wonder. Also, looking into the daytime sky, one sees the clouds floating by on the sun, giving life and warmth. And at night, we see the stars and the moon, luna in all her glory. How can we view these things without being awestruck? Even though at the moment I am deprived of these experiences, I still have the vivid memories that can not be taken away, and they will suffice until I am released and able to soak in the day and night sky without restriction.

Think about the human body and all its functions. The breath, the heartbeat, the blood stream. What a truly awesome, wondrous creation. Think about the miracle of the moment, right now, breathing, blood flow, consciousness, the mind, thoughts, memories, life. The knower that witnesses these things. The awesome power of love and compassion that can destroy hate and violence.

When I mentally or physically write a gratitude list, I feel wonder that I am even still alive to write it. I am in awe and wonder that I received this chance to start over, and enjoy the things in life that I had forgotten I enjoyed.

I pray that I will continue to be content with what I have right now, and have the desire and enthusiasm to keep doing the next right thing, making the next right choice.

ULTRA-Violet
CLF Member, incarcerated in FL

Awe here goes. How do I cultivate it? To prepare land for the praising of crops. To not only prepare the land that is my soul, for the production, experience and recurrence of awe, but to also both improve upon and develop by careful attention, training and study, a life which is awestruck.

Hmm… That’s an awesome question. An awfully intriguing notion; I find myself compelled to contemplation, of which I shall here expound upon. Awe here goes.

Homage, spectacular wonder and a smidge of fear, simultaneously felt in one moment or experience. That’s awe.

I think back to when I was a child. When this kaleidoscope of an emotion was more frequent, more common, yet no less powerful, yet no less enchanting.

We grow up and lose something, don’t we? We forget how to play with reckless abandon. Our imaginations lose their zeal. Our sense of wonder abates.

Why?? How??

Questions I pray liberate your mind and soul, should you find your answers.

As a child I knew. The world (contemporary society) tried to teach me otherwise, but I refused. My spirit rebuked their soul siphoning psychologically crippling delusional doctrine.

As an adult, my path of enlightenment which taught me to “empty thy cup,” has only strengthened my resolve. Preserving the purity, in which awe has so firmly taken its roots.

I still play in the mound of snow left by the plow trucks on the side of the road like a 5-year-old child (pretend bad guy sound effects and all).

After much theological, theoretical and politically correct intellectual discourse, I still imagine what could be, with awe for its potential fruition.

I daydream absurdities, fantasies and abstractions. So vividly creating alternate dimensions, to which I teleport often.

My cup ever empty, I wonder still of aliens, of outer space, of why they say animals don’t have free will. I wonder how orangutans figured out how to make boats and go fishing (yes! Orangutans make boats and go fishing). Did they learn from us or did we learn from them? I wonder how scientists and zoologists figured out that dolphins recognize their reflection.

I ponder why in this age of scientific advancements, where astrophysicists and astronomers can tell us of distant galaxies, suns and planets; their orbit, chemical and elemental composition, temperature and weather conditions and every minute details literally down to the core.

But I can’t go online or to the library and get a surface picture of the terrain of a single planet in this solar system (and I don’t mean the computer generated photos NASA loves to so factitiously parade). Yes, how could one not wonder…

Thus I prepare the land that is my soul for the resurrection of awe. To both improve upon and diligently develop, an existence which is auspiciously awestruck.

With homage, spectacular wonder and a smidge of fear, I stand at the cusp of a rabbit hold called life. And with honor strong, un-defiled amazement and a bit of fright, I smile like a child and dive headlong, awe here goes awe right.

One of the spiritual joys a religious professional receives is their installation to the congregation to which they’ve been called. Michael, Aisha, and I were called to be your Lead Ministry Team in 2020 and immediately knew that we wanted our installation to be at General Assembly (GA), not just because it is one of the only opportunities for CLF members to be together in person, but also to be able to share the spirit of our collaborative ministry leadership. Happily, June 2022 saw us with the first fully hybrid virtual/in-person GA in Portland.

We invited a team of worship leaders to dream with us about an installation around the topic of “A Theological Mandate of Liberation.” Saying yes to our invitation were:

Sermon: Rev. Aisha Ansano, CLF Board Chair

Music Director: Francisco Ruiz, Director of Music UU Long Beach

Chalice Lighting: CLF Board of Directors

Embodied Movement: Rev. Jessica Star Rockers, former CLF Learning Fellow

Voices of the Congregation: Lecretia Williams, Rev. Erien Babcock, and Rev. Dr. Althea Smith, CLF Learning Fellows reading the words of incarcerated UUs

Presentation of Stoles: Julica Hermann de la Fuente, CLF Board member

For those who have internet access, a video recording of the installation can be found here. We were moved to laughter and tears throughout the service. We appreciated how every celebrant wove our unique religious professional identities throughout the service. The embodied ritual gave us roots and wings and the music was FIRE!

 

 

An installation gives the called religious community an opportunity to reflect on itself and its future. We hope this installation gives you a sense of our shared calling to ministry and our shared Theological Mandate of Liberation. To quote our sermonator Rev. Ansano quoting Cole Arthur Riley, writer and poet:

Our liberation begins with the irrevocable belief that we are worthy to be liberated, that we are worthy of a life that does not degrade us but honors our whole selves. When you believe in your dignity, or at least someone else does, it becomes more difficult to remain content with the bondage with which you have become so acquainted. You begin to wonder what you were meant for.

 

 

Timothy
CLF member, incarcerated in NY

I was walking in the yard.
He looked like a mob enforcer — probably because he was.
I’d seen him often, fierce and intimidating. We never spoke.
He was looking up. I turned to see a rainbow.
“You have to search for beauty. There is none here in prison.”
“Is that a double rainbow forming?”
“Yes, they are rare.”
“Gorgeous.”
We watched with reverence. It faded away too soon.
“As a kid I’d run out after a rain to look for a rainbow.”
“Did you find many?”
“No. Almost never. But I kept trying.”
“Looking for beauty is always worthwhile.”
We continued talking.
Sharing awe made us humble,
dissolving barriers,
allowing us to act like old friends.
It was beautiful.

One of the many reasons I choose Unitarian Universalism as my faith is that I don’t believe in saviors. When I say I don’t believe in saviors, I’m really serious. I don’t find that having famous prophets has consistently served humanity. We can’t seem to put into context the fact that those revered and held up as messengers of the holy are simply human beings. Humans who have made enough of an impact on those around them that their stories live on for millenia. Their stories become embellished and larger than life. I love stories and learning lessons from them, but whether or not some of these stories are “true” sometimes get in the way of how we are called to be in community.

The life and experiences of Jesus of Nazareth changed the course of human history. He is credited with being the catalyst for starting a new religion, Christianity. The fact is, he never wanted to start a new religion. By all accounts, he wanted people to become better Jews, not leave the Jewish faith altogether. He preached love, compassion and pointed out the hypocrisy of the religious leaders of his time.

He didn’t claim to be God, he wanted those in power to stop abusing their power and offer care and mercy to those with no power.

Each of us has agency to affirm each other in the fullness of our humanity. We hold the spark of the divine, and we are connected to each other through that spark.

We cause pain and horror when we forget this connection to each other. History has shown us that time and time and time again, when the masses succeed in dehumanizing whoever is deemed the “other,” this has resulted in horrors perpetrated to those who are oppressed.

The United States, since the arrival of colonizers, has been in the business of dehumanizing entire populations in order to steal land and steal labor. It is the only way violent extractive capitalism flourishes.

Black and Indigenous people have borne the brunt of the dehumanization and now white women, with the overturning of Roe vs. Wade, are facing a renewed understanding of what it means to not be viewed as fully human, and how one cannot rely on a system created out of cruelty and oppression.

Black and Indigenous populations have been sounding the alarm and trying to scream from the rafters what has been the core truth of this country, that in order for those in power to thrive under capitalism, there are those that must be subjugated. As time went on and this country grew,  the list of who became dehumanized grew and grew. Now we have the highest population of incarcerated humans of any industrialized nation on earth, we have caged children whose only crime was to be traveling with their parents in search of a better life. It is all so overwhelming, I sometimes want the story of a savior to be true, I mean now would be a great time for Black Jesus to come back and save us, but the truth—as I believe it—is that no one is coming to save us, we must work together and affirm each other to transform this country.

I believe it is possible when we do what we can from where we are. I am clear in my support and affirmation of those with targeted identities, descendants of enslaved Africans, indigenous people, immigrants, those with seen and unseen disabilities, people in the LGBTQI+ communities and anyone else targeted, I am at the ready to fight for and affirm them. The ones I have trouble maintaining their humanity are those who are in power and the oppressors. I have had to remind myself that I do not condone (to put it mildly) oppression and I combat oppression in the ways I am able, and I also need to maintain that even those people who I distrust and abhor are still human. I do not want to fall into the trap of dehumanizing anyone.

I do have boundaries that I maintain, I do not pretend the world is not a scary and cruel place. I do not “agree to disagree” about the humanity of others. I do try to refrain from holding hate in my heart. I focus on liberation, rather than bitterness. It’s not easy; it is a spiritual practice for sure.

Yes, we must fight systems of oppression in all the ways available to us. AND we must remember that each day we can affirm each other and show up in love and with care.

It is this love, care and compassion that affirms community. Amen, Ashe and Blessed Be.

What does compassion feel like to you? What does healing feel like?

JASON
CLF Member, incarcerated in IL

For me, growing up in the nightmare of my childhood and the abuses I suffered, compassion was an unknown word and concept. It wasn’t until I was in a Department of Children and Family Services funded youth facility that I learned about compassion.

I learned from my therapist and his wife, who both worked there. They saw how messed up I was and how much I distrusted everyone and everything. So they both went above and beyond their responsibilities to show me how to trust, how a normal family is together (loving, supportive, caring). They showed me that it’s okay to make mistakes and that I shouldn’t have to fear severe reprisals, and how to actually start to live and not just exist. They showed me how to be human and in doing so, they taught me the meaning of compassion.

You ask what does healing feel like? As my therapist and his wife showed me their home and family life, and taught me what it means to actually live and know what a normal, loving family is supposed to be, the pain that I experienced in learning those lessons was unlike any I have experienced before or after.

I felt as if something vast and dark that had been slowly crushing and killing me was torn off by their compassion and kindness, leaving me crying with the pain of the realization of what I had been missing and what I had been so desperately searching for. It left behind a hollowness within me. Though I had been warmed by their compassion, at that time I still did not know what it meant to feel loved.

Healing, for me, has always been a painful experience. The hurts of my mind and soul have far outweighed those of my body. And for me, though it has been painful each time I have gone through a healing experience, I have come out of it wiser and more human. So, although I do not look forward to the pain it brings, I am always looking for ways to heal the scars and pains of the past.

BRANDON
CLF Member, incarcerated in ID

In October of 2020, I suffered a week of torment within which I was repeatedly beaten, extorted of property and medication, and sexually abused by a cellmate. What’s worse is that the correctional officer who put me in that cell had prior knowledge that the scenario might occur. The inmate I was housed with had not only been incarcerated for that sort of behavior focused toward women in his life, but also had prior instances of doing such to his previous gay cellmates. I tried to get staff’s attention without just telling, because I was already being beaten and had been threatened worse if I told.

I have spent twelve years in here (ten at that time), and in situations like this, I know that could have been in bad enough shape to be hospitalized by the time an officer would respond. Staff ignored me. After being moved I did not make an official report right away because I had attempted to poison my abuser by drugging him with atropine, the deadly poison found in atropa belladonna, a plant like deadly nightshade (I am prescribed medication that contains atropine).

Later, when I did make the “official” report, the C.O. I unofficially reported the situation to did not step up and say anything about my confessions to him. The investigation staff did not interview any of the witnesses who knew it was happening when it was happening. They found the report unsubstantiated the same day that it was opened, without notifying the police. They confiscated much of the paperwork that I had been filing, and warned me that if I continued with the paperwork, they would further separate me and another inmate to whom I was handfasted (married). They said they were giving me and him more freedoms than they’d typically give two inmates in romantic relationships. They went so far as to tell me that I was unable to use the grievance system on an issue that occurred over 30 days prior, but when I kept up the fight, they said they’d try to get an exception, though that was after I submitted forms to retrieve the confiscated documents for “legal reasons,” that prove neglectful behavior on their part.

Before that October, I would have seen compassion and healing in the achieving of a sound mind and heart from a past of broken and failed relationships. I would have seen it as smiling and my ability to be happy at last with the man I had chosen to marry. But after that October, even the happiness he had brought to my life was not enough to heal the nightmares and anxiety attacks that, like COVID, had become the new normal. I sought out the help of clinicians to help with talking about the rape and the relationship issues with my husband, but they only tole me to do the same things I have always done, like to count and breathe if I felt a panic attack coming on. And then they told me to think “happy thoughts,” as if I were Robin Williams being taught to fly by Julia Roberts in the movie Hook, after the children were abducted. However, unlike Robin Williams, that was “professional” advice that I would not accept. If I could just think happy thoughts… don’t you think I would be doing so?

It is now 2022, I am single and I have healed a lot from last year’s devastation of my severance ritual from my husband. It’s been a long journey, but the week in October 2020 still haunts me. I brought it up in a mental health evaluation that the prison’s medical contractor conducted. The psychiatric doctor responded coldly, saying “still?”, which elicited a cold response of my own: “yeah, still.” Today, I reflect on that appointment and I also ask myself, “still?”

The people I’ve reached out to for support have told me that things will get better in time, but the effects of the trauma that I’ve experienced may last forever. Where is the healing in that?

I had made a promise back then that was holding me back from the kind of self-protection that I would have normally engaged in. Yes, I was poisoning him — but the doses were low and would only cause drowsiness at that level; it was the justification I told myself as I risked his life. But after time moved on, I made myself a promise that if I had to, I’d engage in the defense needed. But the question is, what does healing and compassion look like to me now?

I am looking for the voices of compassion and of justice to stand against those in places of power that abuse that power, who don’t use their power to enact a compassionate justice. Healing looks like change. Reckoning those powers and replacing them with those who would protect others from suffering what myself and many others have experienced. The justice system as long been flawed and it punished consenting partners while ignoring a lot violence and rape. It also is a breeding ground of hate, not love. People in here do not always take an opportunity for rehabilitation and instead, the harsh environment makes us harder. And many leave as harder criminals than when they came in.

Compassion would mean reaching out to inmates, especially the LGBT communities within the prisons, and learning about the condition they live in. Joining groups that act against injustice in the justice system. Voting on laws that would help inmates, not harm them. And healing would mean change.

I hope that if you’ve suffered the same sort of experience, and you’re reading this now, that you take some comfort in knowing that you are not alone. This is a common problem and there are people, like us, who will fight the system until change occurs. And there are people outside of prison who are compassionate and will help people like us. We cannot give up, we will win. Blessed be.

Religious scholar Karen Armstrong has studied the teachings of religions large and small all around the world. And she has, as we all have, witnessed the strife in our world: the pain, the isolation, the injustice, the inequality.

And yet, she realized, no religion teaches that those things are acceptable.  All of the world’s religions, in fact, teach compassion.  They use different words and different concepts to talk about it, but all of them teach their followers to treat other people with kindness and respect.  All of them teach their followers that moral, good people help others.

In her book Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life, Armstrong asks us first to learn about compassion.  What do the religions of the world say about it? What have we been taught about compassion—from our heritage, from our families, from our experiences? And most importantly, what does Unitarian Universalism teach about compassion?

We’ve got a principle about it, certainly.  We covenant to affirm and promote, among other things, “justice, equity and compassion in human relationships.” And yet, how often does our practice of this principle stop with promoting justice?

What does it mean to promote compassion in human relationships?

How would our society be different if we made it the norm that we try to feel one another’s pain—that we suffer with one another instead of watching one another suffer. Justice and equity only require the latter—it’s compassion that requires the with.

Our Universalist heritage also encourages us to compassion. The promise of universal salvation, at its most basic, is that all of us are going to end up in the same place when we die (we can disagree about where and what that place is). I don’t think of heaven as a realm for the soul that is outside of what we know—I think of it as right here, in the midst of the world that we know.

Your being, mine, and everyone’s—all part of one, interconnected, closed system.  I am regularly stopped in my tracks by the unfathomable beauty of this notion that we are inextricably bound to one another. The promise of our connectedness requires us to realize our unity with all of creation.

In his 1945 work A Religion For Greatness, Universalist minister and theologian Clarence Skinner emphasized our religious call to work toward the unity of all beings, which he defined as “the coherence of what may seem to be separate, into a oneness. Unity,” he wrote, “means an operative harmony, a functional relationship which belongs to all the parts of a whole.”

Later in this work, Skinner also wrote, “This great religious experience of the unities and the universals, however, tends to direct [humanity] outward toward what is greater than the atomistic human.”

Clarence Skinner pushed to expand the notion of Universalism that his spiritual ancestors had developed.  He called us to a “cosmic mind-set” in which we all realized our connection with—indeed our unity with—everything that is, everything that has been, and everything that ever will be.

We are one with the stars.  With the planets.  With the oceans and mountains and ice caps.  With the forests and the deserts and the fauna running through them.  We are also one with one another.

This unity of existence has profound implications for how we live.

This unity of existence calls us to suffer with those who suffer, because we are they and they are we.

This unity of existence calls us to practice compassion. Our faith teaches us we must.

The CLF held its Annual Congregational Meeting on Sunday June 5, 2022. Anyone who could not attend the meeting was invited to vote by mail ahead of the meeting. We received over 300 votes via mail. 32 members voted in person at the meeting.

CLF members voted for the slate of nominations presented by the nominating committee (318 yes, 0 no, 12  abstain) as follows:

• Rev Jessica James for Board of Directors for a three year term
• Darbi Lockridge for Board of Directors for a three year term
• Mandy Neff for Board of Directors for a three year term
• Rev Dr JJ Flag for Board of Directors for one year (to complete an unfinished term)
• Darbi Lockridge for Treasurer for a one year term
• Mandy Neff for Clerk for a one year term
• Michele Grove for Nominating Committee for a three year term

CLF members also voted to ordain Dr. Althea Smith, a CLF Learning Fellow, as a Unitarian Universalist minister (320 yes, 0 no, 16 abstain). Althea was recommended for ministry by the UUA Ministerial Fellowshipping Committee. Althea’s ordination was on June 18, 2022. She is now Rev. Dr Althea Smith!

Integrity is not a trait that can exist on its own. The word is a noun that refers to an entity, quality, state, action, or concept. Whether describing a trait of character or expressing a property of strength, integrity is always related to something else. However it is used, an essential quality of integrity is its role in describing completeness and soundness for what it refers to.

As applied to people, integrity is the quality of being honest and having strong principles. By extension, integrity implies that any organization of persons is more vital when honesty and a striving towards principles promulgated for the good of the whole. These attributes are a source of pride for Americans. We like to believe we define our character as rugged individuals who, by sheer will of force, carve out for ourselves and our families a superior way of life that attracts other such people to form a “more perfect union” governed by fairly applied laws.

James Burke wrote a book in 1985 called The Day the Universe Changed. In the book, Burke describes how seemingly small random events, or isolated moments, can radically change our understanding of ourselves and the world around us.

I believe such a moment occurred on July 27, 2016 after the Republican National Convention concluded.

My wife and I watched an interview with former speaker of the House Newt Gingrich and CNN’s Alisyn Camerota. We were horrified to hear Gingrich explain what we now all understand as “alternative truth.” When confronted with the fact that crime in the United States had decreased, he insisted that facts don’t matter as much as feelings about crime. He said, “The current view is that liberals have a whole set of statistics which theoretically may be right, but it’s not where human beings are. People are frightened… As a political candidate, I’ll go with how people feel, and I’ll let you go with the theoreticians.”

I believe that was the instant that heralded the death of truth and the political weaponization of fear in our country. It is when temptation overtook our national ethos. We succumbed to fear and ran willingly into the darkness of disenfranchisement, supremacy, and othering. We have been damaged by the false narrative of “exceptionalism” that denies our actual past and obscures our present. Our nation is imperiled because many of us are willing to sacrifice integrity and the rule of law for authoritarian power.

Democracies operate on fact, science, and objectivity, along with law. When there is no basis for action, save feelings, there is no democracy. We knew that, but we abandoned our highest path because a messy democracy became too complicated for some to bear. Newt Gingrich and his ilk smashed our Achilles heel to herd us into temptation and usher us into an era of darkness.

The events of January 6, 2021, may have sealed our fate.

What does integrity mean to you?

Michael
CLF Member, incarcerated in TX

Integrity, according to Webster’s New World Dictionary, is, “completeness; unimpaired condition; soundness; honesty, sincerity, etc.” Some of the synonyms in Roget’s 21st Century Thesaurus are “honor, uprightness, goodness, principle, probity, purity, righteousness, virtue, simplicity, stability and unity.”

To me, integrity means being true to oneself, with actions of uprightness and goodness towards others. By being true to yourself you remain the same when you’re alone as with others. There is a saying: “who are you when no one is looking?” The “you” that your family, friends, classmates, co-workers see — is it the same “you” as when you are by yourself, or are you a different person altogether in both worlds?

By letting your actions be upright and good towards others, family or friend, stranger or foe, it makes no difference, for those actions show the world who you really are, the character that is built in you and the love that engulfs your heart. “Actions speak louder than words” has always been a true statement.

Some people are born with integrity, others have to work to integrate and cultivate it into their lives. Some have to work harder than others. Nevertheless, it’s a virtue and principle that everybody can have and should want to have. Everybody, I believe, should practice having one percent more integrity with every new dawn and day we wake up to. It could make a difference.

Christian
CLF Member, incarcerated in IL

Integrity to me means standing solid and firm in one’s own beliefs. Exhibiting good faith in a certain set of morals, principles, and values.

I hear that the pen is mightier than the sword; the tongue has been known to dismantle empires. The quality of a person’s integrity can only be measured through the weight of that individual’s actions. Though we are all animals at the end of the day, language and our intentions are two of the most fundamental elements in which the value of integrity is allowed to manifest itself within the physical realm.

The ability to connect and communicate with all, in pure harmony, in my opinion represents integrity in its highest form.

RANDE
CLF member, incarcerated in CA

A building or any such structure having integrity means that it is not only whole but sound. For a person, integrity is defined as the quality of being honest and having strong moral values. These definitions are closer than they appear. Let me tell you how.

Integrity, to me, is not only recognizing the wholeness of oneness of everything, but realizing that I am in unity with that oneness. And therefore, everyone is unified with that oneness.

This reminds me of one of Buddha’s revelations: that if we have lived many, like hundreds of thousands of incarnations, then it could be very likely that anyone you meet could have been your mother, in a previous incarnation. In addition, Jesus stated that he came to give one commandment: to love the oneness and each other as the oneness.

How are we treating each other? Is it even close to how you would treat your mother? Integrity is like that. When we treat each other with love, respect, and we “do no harm,” we would not be lying, stealing and all the other “thou shalt nots.” Integrity is not being divided or separated from anyone else. Recognizing blood color before skin color, the color of their flag, or the shape of their wholeness. Use unity as the basis of integrity and all the rest will take care of itself.

Ultra Vylet
CLF Member, incarcerated in FL

They wouldn’t show me the path in which to walk
Only the roads sidelined, with bodies in chalk
Vague directions and a god that refuses to be known
Look for me in darkness, the heartless child’s foster home

And so I cut my own path
Became my own god
Created my own ceremonies
Ordained my own laws

Instituted my own rituals
And sent my demons to hell
From the darkness I came
Illuminating myself

I created the light
And saw that it was good, you see
For no guru
Would show their wizen face
to me

And so my own master
No generic I’ve become
A unique soul
The esoteric sun

Whatever comes,
I will not be disrupted; the essence
My solar-systems spun
Spins spirit relentless

Energy vampires un-repented
Eternally burn on my contrite cross
For blood is an illusion
A conundrum delusion wrought
So look for my blood, if you
so choose
That which you seek your own you shall lose
Lost in confusion are all my foes
Bound by habit circled in woes

That’s a stick of dynamite
Not a candle they’re holding
But what’s a spiritual truth
To a creation so soulless

Pastors packing pulpit power
In their proverbial pipes
Puff puff; boom, plume!!
Eradication of life

On a nimbus cloud, I span the skys
The earth my love, the rain and I
Does everything natural not love the storm
Water is life, is light, is lore

When Aisha, Michael, and I were called as your Lead Ministry Team in 2020 we were excited to learn all the behind-the-scenes workings of CLF. All of us had been affiliated with CLF in one way or another over the years, be it as members, co-hosts of the VUU, and/or CLF programs.  We were and remain energized about the potential for CLF global ministry. We see the hunger for UU Faith Development offerings, Prison Ministry/Abolition programs, and of course the deep community building that happens during weekly worship service and covenant groups.

One aspect of CLF life which emerged into clearer focus for us were the ways in which CLF operates both as a church and a non-profit:

• Sunday/Monday Worship – Church
• Staff Structure – non-profit
• Pastoral Care – Church
• Membership Structure – non-profit

As we began interviewing staff, lay leaders, and members it became clear that there is a deep desire to build the CLF as a congregational community. The reasons we gather as a spiritual community are vast but they are always centered on building beloved community.… a spiritual community, a faith, a Unitarian Universalist home.

Michael, Aisha, and I, with the support of the CLF Board, set about realigning the staff and resources to more fully embrace a structure and culture of faith. In 2021 we underwent a wildly successful staff realignment which saw staff embrace those areas of their expertise and creative expression. Today our staff continue to report how excited and fulfilled they are working in this collaborative environment. And it shows because you, our members, are showing up to worship, covenant groups, and faith development offerings in droves. Our incarcerated UUs are finding us and flocking to our prison ministry.

So now we turn our attention to our membership structure. And friends let me tell you, the CLF is in full non-profit mode when it comes to membership! To join the church all one had to do is pay $50 and bam! you were a CLF Unitarian Universalist. Incarcerated UUs joined via membership form and then attended a ‘New UU” correspondence course in order to participate in our Pen Pal program.

But what Aisha, Michael and I asked is this question “who are the stewards of CLF Unitarian Universalism?” because in a faith community we are not just members but stewards. Our incarcerated UUs are stewards of our faith by their frequent contributions to Quest and sharing the good news of Unitarian Universalism within their incarcerated community.  Our free-world members tend towards the non-profit designation of member by paying a yearly membership fee. This isn’t to say that we don’t have self-identified stewards of CLF, we do. It’s to say that the way that we as the institution of CLF has positioned membership leads to a transactional nature rather than one of stewardship.

So we are excited to announce that beginning this summer we will launch a “From Membership to Stewardship” campaign. We will be asking folks to consider their “membership” in CLF from a stewardship perspective. We will be doing this in a variety of channels including mail, email, website, worship announcements, and faith development offerings.

We will be asking for you to think about your time, treasure, and talents as community offerings to stewarding Unitarian Universalism via the Church of the Larger Fellowship. And we will be creating opportunities to talk about stewardship, practice stewardship, and gain deeper understandings of just what being a steward of Unitarian Universalism is all about. We are soooo excited to be on this journey with you and look forward to exploring with you this upcoming season of “From Membership to Stewardship” at the CLF.

YoUUrs in faith,

Christina Rivera
Co-Lead Ministry Team

Love.

Just four letters.

Inspiration for artists and musicians, poets and dancers, an elusive, harkening, echoing, beckoning promise of what is and might be, no multi syllabic synonyms are needed to evoke Love’s deep complexities.  A foundational influence from the time we are born, if we are lucky to have it, binding us to its mysteries and intricacies, some might even think of Love as God.

Minstrels and sonnet writers praise its wonders. “All you need is love,” sang The Beatles. “Love is all you need.”

Some spend an entire lifetime unraveling the enigma — is love a social construct or something that is hardwired into our physiology? Does it belong in the spiritual realm? Whatever form or shape it takes, one can be certain that an examination of love is not likely to make an appearance on a standardized test. Many of us devote decades to exploring Love’s many facets through the prism of our own understanding and experience.

For me, love means commitment and consistency, devotion and dedication. Love is present in the joy that results when understanding and transformation occur. Love is at its best when it gives rise to that other four letter, equally powerful word that makes us or another say: “Free.” And when it does not, we can know that Love is being mis-used.

For me love takes the form of sexuality education; offered freely, offered with commitment and consistency, devotion and dedication. For me sexuality education is offered through Our Whole Lives (OWL), a comprehensive values based sexuality education program developed by two religious groups, the UUA and the UCC (and yet completely secular).

Sexuality education is much more than learning about sexual intercourse and all it’s inherent dangers; it is about body image, self esteem, friendships, intimacy, whom we chose to love, how we see ourselves, within or beyond gender binaries, how we consent to love and  loving; it is an exploration of what makes us who we are, the most fundamental of human questing.

I’ve been an OWL facilitator for almost two decades — and I have to ask, “Am I getting complacent?” What if I were asked to double down on love? What would that look like for me and how I offer sexuality education?

I know that I have work to do in widening the circle to include people beyond those who “find themselves in our group.” I am called to engage the large community, whether through schools, neighborhood programs, adult schools, justice systems, or families. I need to work more intentionally with communities of the global majority whose access to and engagement with sexuality education might be compromised.

What of you, Beloved? What if you were asked to double down on love? What would you do differently?

With blessings for each of your journeys of exploration and discovery, deepening, questing, and questioning,

— Tuli

What does love look/feel/sound like to you?

Jason
CLF Member, incarcerated in IL

That has always been a difficult question for me. As a kid, when I was being abused, I was told it was for my own good and because my dad loved me. My mother told me she loved me, then ran away to the other side of the country. As a teenager, my stepmother said that she loved me, then cut all contact with me for fear my father would find her after he got out of prison.

The only person who has told me that loved me and not abandoned or abused me is my aunt. Through all of the institutions and all of the trials and pain I have had to deal with, my aunt has supported me. Though she didn’t and doesn’t condone the behaviors that got me institutionalized, she has stood behind me. That, to me, is love.

I have never had a girlfriend and never had a date, so I don’t know what that kind of love is like. I have experienced the love of a pet. I had a dog as a child named Alfred. He made the nightmare of my childhood a little less dark. He could always make me smile and even make me laugh when all I wanted to do was cry.

Once I began to walk the pagan path and began to understand who and what I truly am, I have felt a serene love when communing with nature, and an unconditional love from my brethren in the pagan services here.

Now, as for loving myself: that has also been a difficult road. As a child, I was made to believe that I was nothing, that I was worth nothing, that I would never amount to anything. It has been very difficult for me to overcome that. It has taken years, a number of people helping me, and a lot of self-reflection and growth for me to get to where I can love myself and accept myself. As it  has been said over and over, the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

So love to me is supporting someone when they need it most, even if you don’t like what they did. It is making someone feel better, making them smile or laugh when they are hurting. Love is accepting someone for who they are, without judgment or reservations. Love is casting away negative external and internal perceptions and truly figuring out who you are and accepting that person.

What is Love?

Ryan
CLF Member, incarcerated in FL

L-O-V-E. Probably one of the most misunderstood words in the English language. Mostly due to the fact we only have one word for it. The Greeks however have multiple words to describe different types of love. Here are four of them:

Eros, the easiest, is physical love. This is where we get words like erotic. It’s the love of how things look/feel/smell/taste or any other physical property. This might be an initial feeling towards someone we’re attracted to.

Philia is brotherly love. Think of philanthropy, coming together to raise money for a cause. This describes the love towards friends, co-workers and even humanity as a whole.

Storge is familial love. Not a common root word in the English language, but this is the love one typically feels towards parents, children, siblings or cousins.

The most powerful form of love is agape, or unconditional love that continues despite and perhaps even due to our flaws.

This is sometimes the hardest to achieve because as humans we put conditions on so much, usually unconsciously. This is what we as UUs strive for, especially in our acceptance of the LGBTQ+ and incarcerated members. This is the love to strive for.

What about your love?

 

Donald
CLF member, incarcerated in CO

Love is a simple yet complex emotion for us to truly describe. However, we seem to know it when we feel it. Problems arise when we grasp at, try to control or desire love. Problems also happen when we reject or do not reciprocate love.

Love is at its best when we just allow it to be, and in turn, when we just “be” in it. Love exists outside of us, sometimes with, sometimes without us. We are not necessary for love, but love is a necessity for us.

 

Robert
CLF Member, incarcerated in MA

To put into words that which transcends words is something the greatest poets all throughout time have tried to do (with varying success). Since I consider myself to be a bit of an amateur poet and writer, this is something that I have thought on many times.

An over-simplification is that love is just a basic chemical reaction, impulses that are instinctive. Perhaps you can say that of lust, but not love, for love is not a physical reaction, but a social construct, a characteristic of thinking beyond the self.

When I think on love, an old Greek story comes to mind. There was a creature that walked the Earth that was so powerful, it could overthrow the Gods themselves. It had four arms, four legs, and two heads. Zeus, being fearful of what these creatures could do, rendered them in half; to this day, these now split creatures look for their other half, so that they may once again be as one.

What this story is talking about is humans and the concept of soulmates. I always liked the idea that when you are with your soulmate, that the love you have, is the greatest power in all the world.

Another way of looking at it is a puzzle, composed of two pieces. On their own, you have a slight understanding of the image. Maybe two pieces that are not truly matching can be put together, but the story told is disjointed, and doesn’t make much sense. But when they match up, a story for the ages is told.

Nearly 20 years ago, I found that one, the missing piece, my missing half. With her, I felt at peace. The best way I can describe that feeling is with a smile. It’s a special smile, one that only came across my face when I looked at her. It drove her crazy, because one could consider it a “I have a secret” smile.

In a way, I did, and I’ll let you in on it. Now come close, for not everyone can handle this, so they shouldn’t hear it: my love for my wife is the power that makes the Gods themselves tremble. Forever & Always.

 

In the beginning
it was all darkness and fear
I saw no way out
no end to my anguish
a place that conveys death
yet, can offer life?
to become new
I entered into this cocoon,
a target of transformation,
the time out in darkness
becomes a metamorphosis
death and life working together
to bring about a transformation
from the ruins of the old
like a butterfly, to emerge
forever changed
a person I have never been,
but the world, this life
isn’t all rainbows and butterflies,
for you can’t change the mind
if you have not touched the heart

(an intermission of love’s omissions)

Chase Cole
CLF member, incarcerated in MA

this memory unfolds
spilling over my shoulder
with Hyacinth coolness
shades of hair
spiral downward
rose and sweet a meadow’s breath
—lingering—
tickles my tongue
tingling red wine kisses
little sips of you

pale fingers caress shadows
cinders spear lambent gazes
never wandering eyes
tease my vibe
you are the bee
who robs my hive
unfolding myself beside you
will this last?

you ask
shivering autumnal sun
folded legs tucked under mine
petals of fallen white
holding me
shaping your outline
a nimbus of startling height
passes above us
our love
falls before us

we are a tangle of consciousness
steep and wild
merging rivers crashing together
hidden in veils of light
small wild fruit grows upon your
banks
stop and speak
to me
your silk-blue eyes
purple crescent skies
plum blossoms inhale you
I steal your smiles
cup them inside my heart
trap them inside your warmth
hold me lovely tell me I’m yours

you will come dazzling beside me
risen from jelly shaking your soul
I calm your tremors
kissing you lightly on night’s wind
this world hints of you
your rise and fall
inhaling a life we built together
exhaling empires we destroyed
forever promises eternity
love demands it
—we rise mountains
smooth summits—
sail thermals
energy

To all members of the Church of the Larger Fellowship, Unitarian Universalist:

Per Article VII, Sections 1 and 2, of the Church of the Larger Fellowship (CLF) Bylaws, the 49th Annual Meeting will be held via video/telephone conference call and screen sharing on Sunday, June 5, 2021 at 7:00PM EDT.

To join the meeting, click here.

We will be distributing materials electronically to all CLF members for whom we have a current email address, and posting the documents to our website (www.clfuu.org/annualmeeting). All incarcerated members will automatically receive paper copies of the materials along with postage-paid ballots to return. Others may request hard copies mailed to you by sending back the form on the final page of this issue of Quest, or calling the CLF office at 617-948-6150.

All those who have access to the Internet or phone are encouraged to join our meeting via Zoom and participate in the discussion. Meeting materials will include absentee ballots for those unable to attend in person.

The purpose of the meeting is to:

• Report on highlights of CLF activities and finances
• Vote for the following leadership positions (see nominations from

Nominating Committee in the packet):

• Elect three members to 3-year terms on the board of directors,
• Elect one members to 1-year term on the board of directors to fill a term vacated before the term was finished,
• Elect one member to a 3-year term on the nominating committee,
• Elect a clerk and treasurer for one year

We will elect a moderator from among members present to preside at the meeting.

Aisha Ansano, Board Chair

A phrase landed in me during the week that my mother was dying, as I grasped at any words I could find to make sense of the enormous shift in front of me.

The shape of every memory is changing.

I was seeing with painful clarity what anyone who has experienced big loss knows: I would now have two lives. The first life was the previous 26 years in which I was lucky enough to have my beloved mother with me in life, and the second, however much time I have in front of me, in which I would have to hold her close as a beloved ancestor. And every memory from that first life was now changing, shaped by the reality of this sudden ending.

My mother was a constant in all of the life I’d already known. Her steady presence, her love and care, was a backdrop to all things — a backdrop so fundamental to my experience of life that it was hard to see it clearly at times. Her love had always been at the center of my life, but I wouldn’t have named it as such until I realized I would have to live without her living presence reinforcing it. Perhaps that’s just the way of everything that is fundamental. We assume there will always be air to breathe, until there isn’t; we assume the sun will rise every day, until it doesn’t.

Now, the backdrop of my every memory was suddenly shifting into focus. Now, in the constant foreground: the gift of having had my mother for any time at all, my gratitude for any moment we spent together in life. The shape of every memory had changed.

So many other things have come into clearer focus along with that shift. There is painful truth to the cliche that major loss makes you realize what’s most important. I’ve moved through the past year with much more clarity about how I want to use my time and energy, letting go of past insecurities and narratives that no longer serve me. With my mother’s love at the center, I understand the sacredness of my life more fully. The shape of my every memory has changed, and with it, the shape and direction of my life.

Memory is not static, an unchanging account of events and relationships and facts. It is the source of our meaning-making, a collection of threads from which we weave the narrative that holds our life. The shape and texture of our memories change along with us, as we need them to, to make sense of the ever-changing reality we are faced with.

Letting the shape of my memories change to foreground my mother’s love is one of the things that has saved me, that has made surviving this first year without her possible. How we remember matters — and the shape of our memories can shape our lives as we move through them.

May you each find a shape to your memories that allow you to move through loss and change with more ease. May you know, always, that you are loved, and let that holding shape all of your life to come.

I am terrible at remembering names. I have tried all of the tricks to be able to do that, but nope, not for me. Thank goodness for name tags!

But I remember so many details about so many people, even if I have forgotten their names. I could list them all, but one stands out — the nurse’s aide who held my hand in the emergency room after I was in a terrible car accident when I was 19.

Is it necessary for me to remember this? What if I forgot? Would it matter?

Thinking about memory suddenly became important when my

husband, Sky, was diagnosed with dementia in 2016. I had known something wasn’t quite right with him for a few years. He denied anything was wrong, but eventually agreed to be tested: probable early stage Alzheimer’s. We were stunned.

As we processed this devastating news, Sky said he assumed he would eventually forget his family, but he was mostly afraid that he would forget his Self.

So we read books about memory. It turns out that there are several kinds of memory — ranging from memories of how to do things (ride a bike, tie our shoes) to memories of things that happened to us (however incomplete those memories are) to memories of factual information (Where is the bathroom? What is the capitol of Mali?).

Then Sky wrote:

As the attacks on our intellects and memory continue, we feared changing into people neither we nor our loved ones would value spending time with.  What is left for us if the glue of memory no longer holds our selves together?

As time went on, Sky gradually lost the ability— the memory — of how to do many things. What clothes to wear. How to button buttons or zip zippers. How to read. How to get into bed. How to pull up the covers.

Did he still know his Self?

Sky spent his last year in a memory care facility. He walked the corridors, interacting with other residents and the staff, singing songs, making jokes. Sky was one of those people that had a song lyric for every occasion. Me? I can’t remember song lyrics, never mind who starred in what movie.

When he was dying, he was still singing, and he seemed happy. He told me I was beautiful, and he told me the end was near.

He may not have remembered his Self, but I sure did. It was all there, in its blazing glory.

Is it only memory that is the glue that holds our selves together?

I think there is a fourth kind of memory — emotional memory. We all have negative emotional memories, but we all have positive emotional memories as well.

I was so, so grateful for the nurse’s aide who soothed me, scared and in pain, as I waited in a cold, stark ER. I can still feel her love and care fifty years later.

And when I remember Sky these days, a year after his death, of course I remember all the things we did together.  But mostly I remember the love we shared.

And what could be more important?

What about you? What memories are important for you to remember? Are they factual? Emotional? How would it feel to not remember?