Dear Members and Friends,
Simple words of late poet Adrienne Rich keep returning:
My heart is moved by all I cannot save:
so much has been destroyed.
I have to cast my lot with those
who age after age, perversely,
with no extraordinary power,
reconstitute the world.
In times of global insecurity, national dysfunction, and local anxiety, I look for beauty in my midst and the moments where I can practice compassion, kindness, and generosity. I find solace gathering with other ordinary human beings. When my heart is especially heavy, my spirit needs opportunities to become still. One such opportunity shall be the Vigil for Peace this Saturday, October 28, at 4:00 PM in the sanctuary. A gifted cellist will join us.
October is such a beautiful month in New England as the leaves change colors and then drop to the ground, making it easier to see through the crisp air. It is a time of deepening clarity if we pay attention. I love the wisdom Mary Oliver finds in this time as expressed in “In Blackwater Woods.”
Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars
of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,
the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders
of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is
nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned
in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side
is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
October is a month of letting go, but letting go is much easier for trees. Squirrels, birds, and wildlife seem to let go instinctively and turn toward the rhythms that will see them through the winter. But for us, letting go is rarely easy. It often takes a time of challenge or struggle. And this is a gift of staying the journey through difficult times.
But it is not a time for forgetting, it is a time to remember loved ones no longer with us. In late October, my family brings together photos of loved ones who are no longer with us in the flesh.
In honor of the religious traditions that mark a time of love and remembrance in this season, I invite you to bring a photograph of a loved one to the service this Sunday, October 29, as we acknowledge that we all live among “A Cloud of Witnesses.”
My recently retired colleague Wayne Arnesan closed his services with a benediction that I share with you:
Take courage friends.
The way is often hard,
the path is never clear,
and the stakes are very high.
Take courage.
For deep down, there is another truth:
you are not alone.
My friends, I have a similar message: Take heart. Hold on, especially when the going gets tough. As a spiritual community, this congregation provides you the opportunity to live into your shared covenant where you can say to one another: here at UU Westport,
we will care for you and call upon you to care for others. This is at core what it means to be a faith community.
Warmly,
Alan
