Living Love Through the Practice of Inclusion

Posted on February 3, 2025 by Bob Patrick

This is my 20th year as a Unitarian Universalist. In my early years, it was not uncommon to hear someone say: “In Unitarian Universalism, you can just believe whatever you want to.”  When that came from a fellow UU, I felt like I knew what they were trying to say.  When it came from someone not in the UU community, it made me feel like we were doing ourselves and others a disfavor by saying that.

I don’t think it’s ever been true. I think I know what it was aiming for.

One way to view the multiplicity of religions in the world and the even greater multiplicity of spiritualities, beliefs and world views is this: there are many streams all of which eventually connect with the ocean. While they are flowing and meandering and rushing in and around and through their curves and banks and over cliffs, each of these rivers appears unique and identifiable. When each reaches the place where they merge with another river, another body of water, their uniqueness begins to fade. Ultimately they merge with the ocean; the only thing that is clear is that they are one. That is at least part of the vision of Unitarian Universalism.

During this month of February, we are exploring living love through the practice of inclusion. At first glance, it might be easy to think that the practice of inclusion means that we just accept and welcome anything and anyone. Even questioning that might raise some eyebrows, but here is why I suggest that we exercise curiosity about inclusion. As Unitarian Universalists, we create the sacred spaces of our communities around seven values each of which informs the other.

As we attempt to live love through the practice of inclusion, what and who we include in our thoughts, lives, and community will be marked and guided by the other values. For example, could we imagine including ideas and people who are against justice for all beings?  Could we imagine including ideas and people who perpetuate the privilege and power of some people over others? Could we imagine being a community that tends only to itself and never reaches out to others? Our values of justice, equity and generosity, all flowing out of deep love would say that we could not, should not, would not. 

Recently we witnessed the prophetic words of Episcopal Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde to President Trump. The common theme used by the media was that she “called him out.” I beg to differ. She did not call him out, humiliating him publicly to score some political or institutional points. She called him in. She called him into mercy, to generosity, to equity, to transformation, to justice, to interdependence, to pluralism. She called him into love, and in so doing, she demonstrated to the world what the practice of inclusion looks like when facing trouble, cruelty, injustice and fear. Inclusion includes calling one another into the values that we hold at our core especially when we seem to have lost our way. That’s not easy, but the work of the Spirit always comes with challenge and the possibility of transformation. 

May this month of exploring the practice of inclusion  be rich, transformative, and empowering for us. 

~Bob Patrick

Posted in Living Love Through the Practice of Inclusion | Tagged | 2 Comments

A New Chapter In My Story

Posted on January 31, 2025 by admin

Last week, I join a crowd of clergy and congregants at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Atlanta to celebrate the ordination of the now-Reverend Phoenix Bell-Shelton Biggs.

Ordinations mark a peak moment in the life story of the person being ordained, and in the stories of family and friends who have traveled with the emerging minister through all the ups and downs, the twists and turns that have led to this transformation. We ministers come out of our ordination with a different identity than we went into it!

Last week’s ordination reflects the character and calling of Rev. Phoenix, which means it is particularly joyful, loving, and deep. Every moment is beautifully thought out. Every speaker, every musician, every technician, every design element adds to the sense that we’re all taking part in something transcendent—a rebirth of hope, a recommitment to Love.

The experience marks a shift in my story, too.

Over and over the speakers mention a core element in the story of Unitarian Universalism: We are descendants of the Christian Protestant tradition, and one of the important principles that set Protestants apart from Roman Catholics and other versions of Christianity is this idea that we are all ministers, known back in the day as the “priesthood of all believers.” At Rev. Phoenix’s ordination, it’s abundantly clear that, though some of us may get ordained and make the ministry our professional calling, all of us in our congregations are also ministers. We share the responsibilities of discerning what are our truths, of serving and caring for each
other, and of helping to create a more just and loving world.

Just like the partnership we have at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Gwinnett!

Then, as I listen to Rev. Phoenix name what they promise to do and be in their role as ordained minister, I remember making my own promises at my ordination in January 2004. I remember how my voice seemed to drop two octaves, those promises were so huge and weighty.

But—what were they again? That was a long time ago.

I look them up. The congregation that ordained me said, “Wherever you are called to serve, we require you to bring your imagination, your willingness to learn, your love of life, and your laughter.”

And I said, “I promise to bring to every community I serve my gifts and my
vulnerabilities, a sense of balance and of limits, a passionate love of learning, a raucous sense of humor, and a deep longing to share in our growth toward more love, more peace, more justice, and more life.”

An ordination marks the start of a new chapter in the newly ordained minister’s story. In renewing my love for and commitment to this faith and the call of ministry, Rev. Phoenix’s ordination marks a new chapter in my story too. I am so grateful.

~Rev. Nancy Palmer Jones

Posted in Living Love Through The Practice of Story | Tagged | Leave a comment

Suffering Calls Forth Our Stories

Posted on January 30, 2025 by Bob Patrick

Someone reached out to me recently seeking support. They were feeling overwhelmed by what is coming out of our government’s administration on a daily basis. This person has immediate and personal stake in some of those actions. They wanted to know if they were alone in feeling this way. 

I told them that I could absolutely confirm that many other people are suffering as well. They are not alone in this suffering. I spent a good amount of time in the last week sitting with and listening to, and holding onto people who are terrified of what the administration is doing. The actions and statements made by the administration are so extreme that it drives into our imaginations, and then we feel unable to stop it–the possibilities for suffering. I should say what I know to be the silent truth. While I am not targeted by any of the immediate administrative actions, I am suffering with worry, too. People I love deeply are targeted by these actions, and I cannot separate myself from that. 

When we suffer mental and emotional anguish like this, the story maker within is almost assaulted with energy. Because we humans are story makers at our core, all of this worry, fear and even panic begins to stir the stuff within us that creates stories, and we start telling them. What if . . ? And what about . . ? And may then . . . But why not . . ? Within just a few minutes, we have begun constructing many stories, some of hope, some of fear, some calling for reason, some drowning in despair and many which contradict each other. 

One of the things that I try to do for myself and encourage others to do is to distinguish between the things that I fear may happen and the things that I can do something about today. And then, I move those things that I can do something about today to the top of my attention. The things that I fear may happen, may never come to pass. And at some point, each of them may become things that I can do something about today. When that moment arrives, I have a new thing that I can do. 

Right now, I need (I dare to say, we all need) to tell the story of how we are staying grounded. Let’s tell stories of how we find our center and live from it today. Let’s tell ourselves the story of remembering to breathe in the face of the thing that frightens us most. And, then, friends, let us weave a story together of how we are holding the hands of the people around us, especially those who, for now, are overwhelmed with all of the new stories that seem to be arising within them. Let’s tell the story of phone calls we are making, letters we are writing, meetings we are attending and other actions that we as members of this nation are taking in the face of cruel and destructive policies.

There is nothing we can do about what has already happened, and the list of things that have happened will change from day to day. But, we can ground, center, breathe, hold on, and take action while we weave the story of our way forward. 

~Bob Patrick

Posted in Living Love Through The Practice of Story | Tagged | 1 Comment

A Strange Little Bridge

Posted on January 29, 2025 by admin

(Note: I use watered down language to refer to the genocide of the Palestinian people, this is an intentional choice due to the setting of this story in the early days when the Israeli government’s intentions were not clear.)

When the war in Gaza was in its early days, I heard an interview on the radio from a Palestinian who was ordered to evacuate his home and move to a refugee camp. As he was driving to the camp, most businesses were closed. But he happened to see a bakery that was still open. He stopped in. He told the interviewer that he didn’t want to show up to the refugee camp empty handed, so he bought as much bread as he could from the bakery to bring and share.

It was just a quick radio story in the middle of factual reporting, but I can smell the bread, freshly baked and covered in sesame seeds.

I have heard so many more stories from the war that are so much worse, so much more impactful, so much more life changing. But this story of the bakery and wanting to share bread stays with me. Why?

I think it’s because it’s a strange little bridge between everyday life and immense tragedy. And it shows how short that bridge is. How close everyone is to living in a completely different world.

What stories stay with you?

~Aline Harris

Posted in Living Love Through The Practice of Story | Tagged | Leave a comment

The Layers of a Story

Posted on January 28, 2025 by Bob Patrick

Good stories almost always have layers of meaning written into them, even the ones that happened before our very eyes before anyone ever retold much less wrote them down.

My grandfather and a good friend of his were avid vegetable gardeners. Their friendship and friendly competition got out of hand one spring over who could grow the most tomatoes. The wager was on, and between them they planted hundreds of tomato plants in their otherwise family sized gardens. By the time harvesting time arrived, they had tomatoes filling both of the beds of their pickup trucks weekly for at least a couple of months. Their wives were furious with them (there being some expectation that they might can all of the extras). They each spent the early evening hours, of all those weeks, driving around our community giving away tomatoes. Both having been children and teenagers of the Great Depression, they also experienced some level of shame at how their competitiveness resulted in the wasting of so much food that they could not even give away. 

I remember the events I’ve just described. I also remember how many times over the years of family gatherings that this story was retold. With some distance, now, I can see the layers to this story. 

It is a story of friendship. It is a story of creativity and productivity. It is a story of competition. It is a story of joy and energy. It is a story of lost vision (why are we growing food in the first place?). It is a story of shame. It is a story of atonement. It is a story of community. And, it is a story of how excess can help us find our boundaries again. If it is not obvious from the story, my grandfather and his friend never engaged this sort of competitive gardening again, and each went on to produce beautiful, productive gardens for their extended families and friends for many more years. 

Sometimes, when we fail to see the layers of a story, or worse–when we edit out the parts that we are not proud of–we miss all the power that they hold for us. And for those who receive the story.

~Bob Patrick

Posted in Living Love Through The Practice of Story | Tagged | Leave a comment

Background

Posted on January 27, 2025 by admin

Inside my head, stories rattle around. They are stories about me, woven by storytellers other than myself. I have hated some of these stories, particularly the ones about me crying whenever I drew the Old Maid card, or how as a baby, I pulled my sister’s hair. As I grew up the stories changed, and I became the “responsible” one who didn’t rebel, made good grades and could be counted on to keep the peace. Over time, all these stories created the role I played in the larger story of my family.

No one, though, has the right to tell us who we are. We own the copyright to the narrative of ourselves. Our stories, like our lives, are constantly changing. We decide what content is significant and what we can let go. What a shock it was when I realized that I held the red pen in my hand, and I could strike from my story what was not me any longer. Suddenly, my story was filled with more red than black ink. It was also filled with blank pages.

As I searched for my own voice among all the voices of all the storytellers of my life, I realized how all those stories told about me had affected me. They now remain in the background, as my own, unique story takes centerstage. Picking up the pen to write our own story is a courageous act. It is an act of faith as we believe in ourselves enough to embrace our authentic story. If we don’t tell it, it won’t be told, for it is ours alone to tell. Take heart and tell your true story, especially to yourself.

~Lisa Kiel

Posted in Living Love Through The Practice of Story | Tagged | Leave a comment

This Is Also Sooth

Posted on January 23, 2025 by admin

Anglo-Irish poet William Butler Yeats was an interesting man in interesting times. His body of work spanned six decades, included more than poetry, and made him one of the premier literary figures of his day. The December 2024 issue of Quest Magazine featured a line from Yeats and sparked within me a renewed interest in his work. Yeats features in a chapter of my personal story. I studied literature in college and a memorable class was a senior seminar on Yeats with the then-Dean of the college of liberal arts.

Yeats’ work evolved over time. As he matured and lived, the content and form changed. One might expect revisiting material that I first encountered nearly 20 years ago as a very young adult might come with expected differences in feeling but now, somewhere between youth and elderhood, I am struck by a nearly complete reversal. Yeats’ first published volume contains a poem titled The Song of the Happy Shepherd, which is worth reading in its entirety, contains a few lines that exemplify the sentiment.

THE woods of Arcady are dead,
And over is their antique joy;
Of old the world on dreaming fed;
Grey Truth is now her painted toy;

My search for meaning as a young adult was scientific, agnostic, humanistic, and occasionally atheistic. Grey Truth was all there was for me. These days, it leaves something to be desired.


Then nowise worship dusty deeds,
Nor seek, for this is also sooth,
To hunger fiercely after truth,
Lest all thy toiling only breeds
New dreams, new dreams; there is no truth
Saving in thine own heart. —

Yeats’ affinity for the occult, the mystical and the old clashed with my immature worldview. As I age, I feel drawn to what is unknowable by the “optics of the starry men” who observe and deduce the laws of the universe. The latter half of the poem tells of the natural and supernatural, and a truth that is bigger than the Grey Truth. Seek now your personal story and its meaning, for this is also sooth.

~Ian Van Sice

Posted in Living Love Through The Practice of Story | Tagged | 1 Comment