Ruby's Confession

Disclaimer:  This is fan fiction.  Although I did my homework and have included some facts surrounding locale and possibilities, all of this is fiction.
 

The ride across the causeway to St. Simons Island always lifted my spirits.  I rolled down the window a little to smell the sea air.  I needed a bit of peace before making this pastoral care call, for the woman I was visiting was dying.  Ruby was losing her battle with breast cancer, and had made the decision to forgo any further treatment.  She had moved to St. Simons, Georgia from Greenwood, Mississippi to live with her daughter Mary when she first started chemotherapy.  It did not take her long to fall in love with the island folks and with our small Unitarian Universalist congregation in neighboring Brunswick. Our community fell in love with her as well and she and I had a special connection.  She was glad to “finally have a lady preacher,” and I was pleased to connect with another liberal social justice activist who had very conservative southern roots. 

As I passed the docks with their beautiful boats and beautiful people, I wondered if Ruby would be able to make it to any more services.  I also wondered why she had asked that I come listen to her share a story, a confession she called it.  We Unitarian Universalist ministers seldom hear anything like confessions because our folks generally don’t worry about forgiveness and salvation.  But confession is good for the soul, and I was going to provide Ruby with that opportunity.

Ruby’s daughter Mary ushered me into her downstairs room. It had been a small family room, but Mary’s family converted it to a bedroom for Ruby since all of the other bedrooms in the large house were upstairs. Ruby had become too weak to climb them.  Attempts had been made to make her hospital bed seem less clinical, and a beautiful multicolored patchwork quilt surrounded Ruby, who sat propped up on her pillows. 

 Mary had a little pitcher of lemonade and some cookies at the bedside table for us to enjoy during our visit.  After a bit of chit chat asking me about my family members, Mary indicated that she had some housework to do and would leave us to “visit for a spell.”  I smiled at the language, glad that our common southern upbringings opened the possibility for us to use these favorite phrases. 

Then I knew our task was at hand and said, “Ruby, I hear you have something you want to share with me.  And I’m always glad to hear you share your stories.”

“Well, this one is a little bit different,” she said in a lowered voice.  “It’s one you’ve sort of heard before from someone else – at least you’ve heard part of it.” 

“Oh, has Mary told me some of it?”

“No, not Mary,” Ruby said as she shook her head vigorously.  “Mary doesn’t know.”

I realized that this really was a secret confession.  Mary and Ruby were very close, and I could not imagine Ruby keeping anything from her daughter.  I also couldn’t imagine anyone else telling me something about Ruby that Mary did not know, unless it was something that happened at church.  Ruby set me straight about that idea though as she explained that the story came from her youth.

I took a sip of lemonade.  “Well, let me hear it Ruby.  I’ve got plenty of time.”

 Here is what Ruby shared with me that day.

You know I grew in a rural area out from Greenwood, Mississippi, actually lived there all of my life till I moved here.  Oh, yes, I remember you telling me that you were familiar with that part of the country because you got your doctorate from Mississippi State.  Well, you know it’s a very conservative region --- still is, but it certainly was when I was growing up.  The McDonalds lived a few miles from us, up on Choctaw Ridge.  And their boy and me, we were best friends as children.  We’d meet in the middle between our farms and play.  Our favorite thing was making mud pies near the edge of the river.  My brother Johnny would come with us sometimes too, but he said our games and playing were too silly for boys.  He’d tease Willie about it.  And in fact, he teased so much that Willie quit playing as much with me, and started hanging out with Johnny more.  He explained to me that he wanted to fit in with the boys – because he was a boy, but he enjoyed playing with me more.  We would still meet at our special place and share what was going on in our lives.  As I got older, Willie wanted to hear about my crushes and dates.  And he would always grill me to pieces about my brother Johnny and whether or not he was dating anyone. 

One day when I met him, I could see that he was bruised pretty badly.  He said Johnny had gotten upset with him, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was about.  His eyes welled up and he said, “You know I love your brother.”  That was kind of a funny thing for one boy to say about another – but I knew they were close, like brothers almost.  I told Willie that Johnny probably rather have him for a brother than me for a sister.  And Willie just shook his head.  I asked him why Johnny had hurt him.  But Willie said I wouldn’t understand.

At the end of my junior year in high school I met Willie at our favorite place near the river and he was excited.  He said, “I’ve decided to share something with you Ruby.  I want you to know.  Now that Johnny and I have graduated and I’ve saved some money from my job at the gas station, I’m going to ask him to go away with me.” 

“Why would you go way,” I asked.  “And why would Johnny go with you?”

“Because I love him.  And I think he loves me.  And we can’t live here!!  He and I have been making love for a long time, and it’s what I want.”

“You’ve been making love? But you are both boys,” I said.  “I don’t know what you mean.”  I really didn’t.  Back then we just didn’t discuss such possibilities.  Besides, I kind of always liked Willie, and hoped that someday he would see me as something other than a friend. Now he was telling me he loved my brother!!  Besides, Johnny was going steady with Betty.  I didn’t know what or how to feel.   Willie pulled out a letter he had written and asked me to give it to Johnny.  It was a love letter, complete with more romantic language than I had ever read in a Harlequin romance novel.  Then I understood.  

“You can’t do this!” I shouted.  “You will ruin his life and your own life too.  You’re crazy.  Do you know that?”  

I took the letter and started running.  Willie caught up with me as I got to the bridge that crossed the river.  He cried out that he couldn’t live without Johnny.  “Yes you can!”  I screamed.  “You will have to.  I will never let you do this Willie.  You will have to come to your senses.”

He caught up with me in the middle of the bridge.  Tears were in both of our eyes.  We just cried and held each other for a while.  Then I tore the letter in half.  “Let’s just throw this thing down into the Tallahatchie River,” I said.  And not bring this idea up again.  And we let that letter fall down to the muddy water below us.

Indeed we did not bring the idea up again, because I never saw Willie again.  Two days later, on June 3, 1960, they said that Willie McDonald jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge.  I knew better.  I pushed him off.  Not literally – but with my rejection of his love for my brother and my rejection of his sexuality – although I didn’t know that term then.  In any case, I could have been the caring person who at least tried to understand.  I was his best friend.  Yet I let him down.  I wanted to talk to my brother about it.  But I just couldn’t.  He and Betty  married and moved to Tupelo, then Johnny died in a horrible car crash when he drove off the road into a tree a couple of years later.  I always wondered about whether that was intentional too.   

Ruby turned her head away, but I could see the tears and her mouth quivering.  “Ruby,” I interrupted as I touched her hand.  “Is this the story that Bobbie Gentry told in her ballad?”

“Yes,” Ruby said, “but she wasn’t Bobbie Gentry when I knew her back in Greenwood.  She was Roberta Lee Streeter.  She changed her name for her singing career.   I would never have shared anything about it with her if I had known she was going to write a song about it. She and I were good friends and I just shared my frustrations about how everyone was going on with life as usual when we heard about Willie’s death..  Of course she changed our names.  She changed Willie McDonald to Billie Joe McAllister, but folks in Greenwood knew who the song was about. I had to hear that song over and over again in 1967.  It  was a number one hit and won three Grammys.  Bobbie told me she had to write a song for the B side of what she thought was going to be her first record. She thought many folks would never even hear it.  She didn’t know the whole story of course.  I’m glad she didn’t or she might have put the whole story in that song.  I’ve had enough guilt to deal with all my life as it is.”

I hugged Ruby and said, “you are a little older than I, but not by many years.   I know from my own experiences how things were in that era.  We were products of our time.  We did the best we could.  Ruby, you need to let go of that guilt if you can, reminding yourself of how you’ve lived your life. Your grandson Jeff is proud that his grandma supported him when he came out.  Plus, you’ve been such an inspiration to us in our congregation, especially with your participation in the organization of our PFLAG chapter. I’ve always marveled at your enthusiasm, made more remarkable because you were managing your own serious health problems. I assumed that your passion was due to your grandson’s coming out, but I can see now a tragedy long ago helped make you the compassionate person the congregation and I know.

The tears began to glimmer in her eyes again, but she smiled.  “Yes, I think you are right,” she said softly.  “ I do feel better now that I’ve told you about it.”  

“Ruby, can I say a little prayer for you?” I asked.  

“Yes, I’d like that,” she said.

I held both of Ruby’s hands as we closed our eyes and I prayed:

Oh, Spirit of Life and Love, we connect today in your loving presence.  Ruby has shared a story that has burdened her heart for many years.  We pray today that with the telling of this story, her burden is lifted.  For even in the telling and the listening that we’ve done today, our own spirits have been lifted. Ruby has been a blessing to her family, especially her grandson Jeff, and to our congregation. We love her.   My prayer is that our love will give her comfort and peace.  And that she will know what a wonderful difference she makes in our lives.  May she be an inspiration to me and others so that we all may work together to end oppression of every kind.  May we accept her gifts to us as that shining light that endures from generation to generation. And may that peace and love that is present with the two of us today, inspire us to share it with others, till,  like the old prophet said, “justice shall roll down like waters, and peace like and ever-flowing stream.”  Amen.

And Ruby said, “Amen.”

And the reader says…

Critical Epilogue

Bobbie Gentry’s 1967 hit “Ode to Billie Joe” is a musical southern gothic tale which provided enough open spaces for major speculation by those who heard it.  The main point of the story was how folks went on with their daily everyday lives in the midst of such tragedy.  But the mysteries of the song received the most attention, including the reason for the suicide, the identification of what was being thrown off the bridge by the narrator and Billie Joe, and the relationship of the narrator to Billie Joe. Every speculation that I’ve read, including the later movie based on the recording, assumes a romantic relationship between the narrator and Billie Joe.  My fan fiction opposes this assumption and demonstrates that Gentry’s song is open to a queer interpretation, one in which Billie Joe is in love with the narrator’s brother.  It also demonstrates how fan fiction can mimic the canon by using some of the same literary elements. 

This fan fiction has only three characters in the 2014 story, including the first person narrator who is a Unitarian Universalist minister.  It’s easier to write what we know, and as a minister I know of the pain of folks who carry burdens and need to talk to their ministers about them.  So I used this familiar setting to provide a basis for Ruby sharing her story.  Perhaps that was to provide a level of comfort for me as the author. Hopefully it also provides greater connection for the reader as well.  The story within the story told by Ruby has additional characters from the song.  These names are different, but Ruby explains the reason and for fans of the song, it’s obvious anyway. 

The queering of this story takes place in the middle, as Ruby shares how Willie explains his plans to share his desire with Johnny that they move away together.  This makes no sense to Ruby.  Even though Willie has shared about his love with Johnny to her before, she didn’t “get it.”  Her mind was closed to the possibilities of what that kind of love would be like and she assumed he was referring to a brotherly love.  When she asks why he wants Johnny to move away with him, Willie tries to be more direct.  “Because I love him.  I think he loves me.  He and I have been making love for a long time, and it’s what I want.” Ruby still cannot perceive the meaning and objects with “But you are both boys….  I don’t know what you mean.”  Part of her lack of understanding may be due to a lack of language for explaining.  This was prior to Stonewall and the more open gay rights movement.  People in rural Mississippi may have had the attractions, but they did not have the words for “coming out” to others in an understandable way.  It was not clear to Ruby until she read his love letter to Johnny and recognized it as romantic love because it reminded her of the Harlequin romance novels she had read.  Even with the understanding she rejects the idea by saying, “You can’t do this! …You will ruin his life and your own too,” and pronounces Willie as “crazy.”  The sequencing of this part of the fan fiction may be read as symbolic for the sequencing of the coming out of gays in America in the last decades, beginning with everything being closeted and hidden, then rejection with the assumption that individuals must be mentally ill, followed by a slow understanding that was often accompanied by denial and even anger.  Sadly just as many in the gay rights movement did not live to see this understanding and acknowledgement that we are experiencing from society today, Willie does not live to see Ruby’s acceptance and love of him as a gay man. 

The “Ode to Billie Joe” and my fan fiction contain some common literary elements.  In the fan fiction story, Ruby shares a deep secret with her minister.  She doesn’t tell her minister initially that she is inspiration for the narrator in the “Ode to Billie Joe.”  This becomes clear, however, as she shares the story.  The facts of the story serve as the clues for the minister solving this mystery.  For example, Ruby shares that the minister has heard the story before, but not from her daughter who doesn’t know.  She also shares it’s from her youth, which provides a time perspective for the minister’s discovery.  She reminds the minister that she’s from Mississippi and that this is the setting for her story.  Gentry’s song specifically mentions Mississippi and specific geographical locations, including Choctaw Ridge and the Tallahatchie Bridge.  These specific localities gradually are uncovered in Ruby’s narrative as well.  Ruby talks about Willie McDonald living on Choctaw Ridge and shares about her brother coming with her to meet with them at their play times as children.  I attempted to write the piece so that the READER would discover the connections at the same time as the minister.   Having some suspense and mystery in this piece seemed appropriate since the cannon itself is full of mystery.  I also used the everyday descriptions of time and place to introduce the story, just as Gentry introduced her tale with the words, “It was the third of June, another sleepy, dusty Delta day.  I was out choppin’ cotton and my brother was balin’ hay.”  My fan fiction introduction includes sharing the setting of going over the bridge to St. Simons with the smell of the sea air and sitting down for lemonade and cookies prepared by Ruby’s daughter.  Sharing some of the same literary devices as Gentry allowed me to connect with her as a story teller.  These connections would probably not be obvious to the reader, but subconsciously it may affect the reading of the piece. 

I close the fan fiction with a prayer which provides the opportunity for some reconciliation for Ruby.  I chose to close it this way because this is what I would actually do in a setting like this.  But it also provides a sense of atonement (at-one-ment) for the reader who has experienced the tragedy and pain vicariously and perhaps needs the reconnection to love and healing the prayer provides.  

Oh, may it be so.

The Tale of Jonathan and Ja'briel: A Graphic and Textual Retelling

Introduction:
      I met Ms. Ja’briel Walthour when we both were serving on a panel discussing LGBTQ issues at Georgia Southern University.  She shared a compelling story about her life before and after transitioning.   I suggested her as a speaker to our congregational program committee at the church where I serve as a minister and we invited her to share her story with us.  In the picture on the left, I’m presenting Ms. Walthour with our congregation’s “Courageous Love Award,” which is given to individuals by our “Standing on the Side of Love” campaign. Through these two encounters I came to greatly appreciate Ja’briel’s courage in dealing with the challenges of being a transgender woman of color in southeast Georgia.  Therefore, when the opportunity was initiated in my writing class to creatively retell a story, I immediately thought of her.  J’abriel has given me permission to use her real names for this project.  I’ve shared Ja’briel’s story in two parts using Pixton software for creating comics.  The first part is entitled, “Jonathan’s Story” and the second part is “Ja’briel’s Story.”  Please send any feedback to me at revjanepage@gmail.com or in the comment section if you prefer.

Ultimate Reality: Creating an Honest Theology

Grace Lambie was a wonderful colleague I worked with in the College of Education for many years.  And she would see me in the hallway and say, “Jane – how are you?”  And I’d reply – “Fine.”  And Grace would say, “No—I mean – how are you REALLY?” Grace wanted me to tell her the TRUTH – not just give some canned reply.

And that’s what I’m asking us to think about today in regards to our beliefs – which most us like to respond to with something rather nebulous like – “OH, I believe in life and love.”  Or – “I believe in the goodness of humanity.” Or perhaps—“I believe that God is good all the time.” Or maybe we go in the opposite direction and say – “I believe it’s all a bunch of  ____”(put in your own expletive).   And I hear Grace Lambie in my ear saying – “No, I mean what do you REALLY believe?  Put some thought into it.  Tell me the truth.”

That’s what some of us are doing on Sunday evenings in our “Building Your Own Theology” class.  We are attempting to put some thought into our ideas and tell the truth.  And isn’t it grand that we can do that here at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Statesboro – cause you sure can’t do it everywhere. Tonight we are going to be delving into our own personal beliefs – so my sermon today serves as an introduction into that exploration.  We invite you to join us this evening or continue exploring on your own.  Either way --  it is worth examining.

First of all – before I start throwing various names of theologies at you – let me say that these are all categories and words that WE made up – people MADE these things up in efforts to communicate and examine their own beliefs and the beliefs of others.  And some of the meanings of these words are different for different folks – and some meanings have evolved.  That’s what happens with language.  So that’s my disclaimer of sorts.  But we do have the need to communicate about our belief systems so I’m going to share some words that are commonly used to do this. I’m going to share some “theologies” – some ways of thinking about the divine, the universe, life and more.  And I decided to connect it as much with our heart as our head, I’d see if I could find hymns or songs that represented these ideas.  So I may just break out into one – but bear with me or feel free to join in!

(Sing)
“God of grace and God of Glory on thy people pour thy power.”  That’s the song of a Theist – singing praises to God – a powerful, supernatural God of grace and glory and power.  A Creator God who knows the hairs on our head and who keeps his eye on the sparrow.  Now Theism can be monotheism or polytheism – and there are other branches and ways to think about theism as well. Some who identify as theists think of God or the Divine as a being or beings – while others may view God or the Divine as some kind of power that pushes or pulls or influences.  But it’s a real – though supernatural thing – not a metaphor or name for some theoretical concept. 

The Unitarian and Universalist Faiths were initially theistic faiths which evolved and became more inclusive of other views.  Yet there are those among us for whom theism is a powerful framework for  understanding “Ultimate Reality.”  My survey revealed that about 7 percent of us identify as theists with another 10 percent identifying as Christian – usually seen as theists as well.  So that’s a minority, but a minority that perhaps keeps us more historically grounded than we might be without them, and we are grateful for their presence. 

Theists not only think of the divine in powerful ways, they view the divine as a companion and someone to call on in times of trouble.  I think this is especially true of those who identify as Christian theists. 

(Sing)  “When the way grows drear, precious Lord, linger near, when my life is almost gone, hear my cry, hear my call, hold my hand lest I fall; take my hand, previous Lord, lead me home.”
My strong rational self won’t let me go there – but there are times when it would sure help.

Now the word theism wasn’t used much until folks in the Western world began to promote other ideas – and there was a need to differentiate folks like the Deists who were some of our founding Fathers – from the more traditional religious folks.  I don’t know if we have any Deists here – those are folks who believe in a creator God who then sits back and doesn’t get involved.  But we do have Atheists and Agnostics. 

Steve Martin has a comedy skit where he says "Atheists don’t have no good songs."  But I came up with one that I think we all like. 
Imagine there's no heaven
it’s easy if you try
No hell below us
above us only sky.
You may wonder why that wonderful song is not in our UU hymnal.  Actually, the hymnal committee wanted to include it.  But they were committed to trying to use language that was gender neutral or that at least was more inclusive.  And they wanted to change the line that read "a brotherhood of man."  Yoko Ono said something like, "You either use it like John wrote it or not at all."  So it's not in there, though we still consider it a UU song.

Atheism is an active disbelief in the existence of God or gods. Theologian Paul Rasor says that for Atheists”Nature alone is real; the divine is either an illusion or an imaginative representation or symbol of some aspect of the natural world.”  And Atheism has a couple of cousins in the theological world.  One is Agnosticism – which is the ultimate uncertainty about the existence of God.  Their song might be “We Laugh We Cry" – especially the fourth verse when it starts (sing)“We seek elusive answers to the questions of this life” and ends with (sing)“And in our search for peace, maybe we’ll finally see; even to question, truly is an answer.” 

One of the jokes some folks tell about UUs is that they are Agnostics with children.  But that’s not so – we are far more diverse.  Now neither atheism nor agnosticism was included in that survey I sent out because these two categories were not on the UUA survey – and I wanted to be able to make some comparisons.  The cousin that WAS there was Humanism – and I assume that any of you who may be related to this naturalistic area checked that one – but maybe not.  Humanism focuses on the belief in humanity as central without divine beings.  It’s a “naturalistic and non-theistic interpretation of religion, emphasizing humanly significant actions and experiences.”  (Rasor).  I searched for a hymn in our hymnal that exemplifies humanism – and the one that I really feel does this is #113 by Edwin Henry Wilson and it goes like this:

Where is our holy church? Where race and class unite as equal person in the search for beauty, truth, and right.
Where is our holy writ?  Where'er a human heart a sacred torch of truth has lit, by inspiration taught.
Where is our holy One?  A mighty host respond; the people rise in eery land to break the captive's bond.
Where is our holy land?  Within the human soul, wherever free minds truly seek with character the goal.
Where is our paradise?  In aspiration's sight, wherein we hope to see arise ten thousand years of right.

I call myself a religious naturalist – but I checked humanism because that’s close.  I usually don’t use that terminology because of its focus on humans.  And I’m afraid our dog Windy might feel left out. 

You may note that in the survey or our congregation, this was the category that more folks checked – though not a majority.  Almost as many checked Earth or Nature Centered.  Now I used the categories from the 1998 survey, but I almost wish that this one was a bit more divided – because it probably includes both more traditional naturalists as well as those who may identify as pagan, or neopagan, or perhaps Wiccan.  I do know that we have had a growing number of folks connected with us who participate in rituals regularly which could be identified as pagan – sometimes in the woods behind my house.  And I participate too—though I do not take on this label as my primary theological identity.  Of course, I enjoy participating with all of you in your various rituals – especially when there is food and drink involved.  Rasor identifies neopaganism as “an earth-centered and often polytheistic tradition that sees divinity in everything and emphasizes ritual practices and participatory experience.”  Its cousins are pantheism which equates God with nature and panentheism which is the belief that God is both immanent (or active within us) and a divine being.  Basically all these folks are going back to that old time earthy religion that honors the seasons and the earth itself.  And this religion pays a whole lot more attention to the feminine divine than more traditional western theologies.  My favorite hymn to celebrate these theologies is #51. (sing)  “Lady of the seasons laughter in the summer’s warmth be near; when the winter follows after, teach our spirits not to fear.  Hold us in your steady mercy, Lady of the turning year.”

A few of you identify as mystics and there are mystics within all the world’s great religions.  That’s why the categories are sometimes difficult.  And definitions of mysticism change with various religions, cultures, and times.  But I think most of us would perhaps accept a definition similar to the one advanced by McClenon who said that mysticism is“the doctrine that special mental states or events allow an understanding of ultimate truths. Although it is difficult to differentiate which forms of experience allow such understandings, mental episodes supporting belief in 'other kinds of reality' are often labeled mystical [...] Mysticism tends to refer to experiences supporting belief in a cosmic unity rather than the advocation of a particular religious ideology.”

Folks – basically, you get the spirit in you – which is a little of what we attempt to do when we sing:  “Gathered here in the mystery of the hour, gathered here in one strong body, gathered here in the struggle and the power, Spirit draw near.” 

Some Unitarian Universalists identify with specific world religions – other than our parent religions of Judaism and Christianity.  We have a few folks who identify as Buddhists – probably because they practice meditation and attempt to adhere to some basic Buddhist principles.  Many of us who may not identify primarily as Buddhists also study and attempt to follow these teachings including this one attributed to Gautama Buddha: (Sing) “Be ye lamps unto yourselves.  Be your own confidence.  Hold to the truth within yourselves as to the only lamp.”

We didn’t have anyone identify primarily as Hindu – but I know that many do lift up the Hindu gods and goddesses and other avatars of the divine in some of their pagan practices.  And with them I sing:  “There are many strings in your lute, let me add my own among them.”

Does our theology matter?  Wars have been fought and people killed over differing beliefs.  And even when the violence isn’t physical the arguments and various proofs for a God or against a God are excruciating.  We don’t spend much time here at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Statesboro doing this.  In our Building Your Own Theology book, Richard Gilbert says that "today we are increasingly less concerned with answering the question of the existence of God or responding to proofs of God and much more concerned that religious liberals of all ages have experiences that may be called divine.  Many are today more comfortable articulating the experience of the sacred than the existence or non-existence of a divine being.” However Gilbert still encourages us to ask questions about Ultimate Reality – whatever that is.  Is it benign?  Does it intervene in human affairs?
Does the divine make any difference in our lives?  Gilbert says we may not achieve success in answering all of these questions – but perhaps we will be confused on a higher level – and about more important things.  

We encourage you to keep coming to UU – so that you too may be confused on a higher level.  But most of all -- come for the community.  As Mary Daly suggests:  “The word ‘God' may not refer to any being up there or out there or even in there, but to a divine process of which we are a part.  It may be that we experience the divine in relational power—that it is created out of the gathering of people in worship or in the pursuit of a noble cause.”  

SO… whatever your beliefs or non-beliefs -- (sing)
“Let it be a dance we do.  May I have this dance with you?  In the good times and the bad times too, Let it be a dance!” 

Amen and Blessed Be!

It's Human Nature

Sermon shared by Rev. Jane Page on February 23, 2014 at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Statesboro.

First Reading

For our first reading today, I have a story that was told by Rama-Krishna, a nineteenth century Hindu mystic  (from our Building Your Own Theology Curriculum).

Tapoban, the master, had a disciple who served him with irreproachable diligence.  He served his master well.  It was solely because of this diligence and the services that he rendered that Tapoban kept him, for he found the disciple was not very smart at all.  One day the rumor spread throughout the whole region that Tapobana’s disciple – this servant – had walked on water; that he had been seen crossing the river as one crosses the street.  Tapobana called his disciple and questioned him,  “Is what people are saying about you possible?  Is it really true that you crossed the river walking on the water?”

“What could be more natural?” answered his follower.  “It is thanks to you, oh blessed one, that I walked on water.  At every step I repeated your saintly name and that is what upheld me.”
And Tapoban thought to himself, if the disciple can walk on water, what can the master not do?  If it is in my name that the miracle takes place, I must possess power I did not suspect and holiness of which I have not bee sufficiently aware.  After all, I have never tried to cross the river as if I were crossing the street.  And without more ado, he ran to the river bank.  Without hesitation he set his foot on the water, and with unshakable faith repeated, “me, me, me” …. And he sank. 

For our 2nd more contemporary reading about human nature – I have a song written by Michael Jackson called – Human Nature.  And if ever there was a study in the paradoxes about Human Nature – it could be represented by Michael Jackson.  So much was good – and so much went awry.  I wish he that he didn’t have to die.  Fortunately he’s left something of himself with us.  So let’s listen to a bit of Michael Jackson LIVE singing “Human Nature.” (click link).

Moment of silence to contemplate these things, breathe, and prepare for our message. 

This sermon is the fourth in my series based on topics we are exploring in our “Building Your Own Theology Class” on the Sunday evenings when I preach.  And tonight we’ll be looking more in depth at Human Nature.  But we’re going to wade in that water this morning.  In fact – we’ve been wading already with our story for all ages and readings and that message from Michael. 

I’ve spent a lot of my life wading these waters, sometimes swimming, sometimes diving deep – and sometimes feeling like I may be drowning – and sometimes I probably climbed up on those pipes I was supposed to stay off of.  In any case, I’ve gotten really wet with this subject.  I used to teach a class at Georgia Southern University called, “Human Growth and Development.”  We looked at physical development, cognitive development, social development, moral development, etc. etc.  And in every part of this the same question would come up.  What has made me who I am?  Is our growth and development determined by Nature or Nuture.  In other words – did we come with the instructions built in regarding how we would turn out – or were we like clay – ready for our environments including our parents and teachers to mold us.

There are famous folks on both sides of the debate.  John Locke, a 17th century philosopher said that at birth, the mind was a blank slate (or we would say a blank whiteboard) ready for the environment to write upon.  He also said:  “We are like chameleons, taking our hue and the color of our moral character, from those who are around us.”  (brainyquotes.com)
And there are many others on team Nurture.

And then there is E.O. Wilson.  He’s probably best known as a Naturalist and has studied more about ants than anyone in the world.  But he’s also the Father of sociobiology – and would be one of the captains of Team Nature in this debate.  He has stated that ”Nature holds the key to our aesthetic, intellectual, cognitive, and even spiritual satisfaction.”

In his book – ON HUMAN NATURE - Wilson argues that the human mind is shaped as much by genetic inheritance as it is by culture (if not more). There are limits on just how much influence social and environmental factors can have in altering human behavior. So he and others on Team Nature would emphasize how we have evolved and our genetic makeup in explaining how we came to be like we are.  Here’s another famous person that would be on Team Nature.

Why?  Lady Gaga sings – Baby I was Born This Way.

That debate still goes on of course, but we have discovered quite a bit about this through our scientific studies.  We do know now through twin studies and other genetic research that much of who we are is coded into us within our genes.  And we also know that evolution is so very important in explaining how we have come to be who we are.  

And some of this is common sense too.  There are some old sayings that some of us grandmas and grandpas say that were passed on to us from our parents.  Sometimes my Daddy would try to teach me to do something that was easy for him – and I would really try – but I couldn’t do it very well.  And he would say – “Well – you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”  But - What did my daddy mean?  He meant that I just didn’t have the talent to do that well with that particular activity.  And that was okay – because I could do other things.  I found out something while I was working on this sermon though.  And that is that in 1921 some chemists in Cambridge Massachusetts worked really hard to make silk from pork by-products and were actually ABLE to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.  Here it is!

But that doesn’t take away from the fact that we are born with differing gifts and talents and some of us have to work harder on some things than others.  However we have also learned that this genotype that we inherit for various attributes and abilities has a wide range and we can perform at the top of it or the bottom of it depending on perhaps how we have been nurtured in this area – and our efforts.  So while I’ll probably never play basketball well enough to play professionally, if I practiced a lot and got in better shape, I could probably play on a seniors women’s church league team. 

So this nature-nurture debate goes on to some degree – but I and many others contend the answer can be found with the Certs solution.  Are you old enough to remember this?
Certs Commercial 
I used to use the Certs commercial to illustrate this idea in my Human Growth and Development class but they got too young to know what it was (or I got too old) and I had to switch to the “Tastes Great – Less Filling” beer commercial.  They wouldn’t know that now either.

Now Nature vs. Nurture is not the only thing folks might disagree on in regards to Human Nature.  There are also disagreements about whether or not we are inherently bad – that whole doctrine of Original Sin; or inherently good – what Matthew Fox refers to as Original Blessings – and what we Unitarian Universalists refer to in our First Principle.

Are we born bad – needing correction and/or grace?  Or are we born good – but perhaps become bad sometimes because of what happens in our lives or the choices we make?  Hmmmmm. 
Here’s are some famous teachers, writers, philosophers, psychologists and other thinkers that are quoted in our “Building Your Own Theology” curriculum in the section about Human Nature.
  

• John Dewey said “The child is born with a natural desire to give out, to do, to serve.
• Urie Bronfenbrenner said  “There are no bad people; only bad institutions….Given sun, soil, air, and water, a plant does not need to be told how to grow. 
• Eric Fromm said:  “We are what we do.”
• Ovid said:  “I see the right, and I approve it too, condemn the wrong, and yet the wrong pursue.”
• Unitarian Transcendentalist Margaret Fuller said:  “He that falls into sin is a man; that grieves at it may be saint; that boasteth of it is a devil.”
• The Apostle Paul said:  “For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do.”
• Mark Train said:  “Bein’ good is so much trouble, while bein’ bad ain’t no trouble at all.”
• Homer said: (Humans are) “the saddest of all the beasts of the field.”
• And Unitarian Ralph Waldo Emerson said:  “A man is a god in ruin.” 

Now this is not a scientific study of opinions, -- but in just looking at this selection – do most of these folks think humans are good or bad?  If they were playing the rope game “tug of war,” which team would win – the Humans good team or the Humans bad team? 

Indeed, throughout much of human history, we have bought into this idea that good and bad or dueling and that bad has the upper hand – so much so that folks have to make sacrifices or accept specific religious doctrine in order to not be punished for all eternity for their inherent evilness. 
Now we Unitarian Universalists don’t buy into this, do we?  In fact, our FIRST principle says that we affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person.  UU minister and humorist Meg Barnhouse shared how difficult this was for her when she first came to UU.  I’ll try to allow her spirit to embody me and tell you what she says about this.

“My experience of the Principles is that they are deeply demanding. The first one asks me to affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person, which means that I can no longer subscribe to the cheerful Calvinist doctrine of the total depravity of human nature. It sounds grim, but really, if you are in fact starting with a totally depraved nature, the opportunities for self-congratulation abound: “Hey, I didn’t knock over a 7-Eleven this afternoon, even though money’s pretty tight. I’m doing well!
Now I have to struggle with the worth and dignity of people who do unspeakably awful things, whereas the doctrine of total depravity made that one a no-brainer.”
I agree totally with you Meg.

So why do we have that as our principle?  Are our eyes closed to the evil in people – including ourselves?  NO—we know it’s there.   Now some would say that EVIL is not born in us.  That we evolved (or we given by God) goodness and empathy toward others, for the survival of the human race.  These folks say that goodness is the default – the natural way to be.  And it’s only when our psyches or our souls are broken in some ways – through perhaps childhood trauma, etc.  or something in their environment that breaks them (like facing death) that we see folks “breaking bad.”

British Psychologist Steve Taylor, author of Out of the Darkness and Back to Sanity:  Healing the Madness of the Human Mind, explains it this way. "‘Good’ means a lack of self-centeredness. It means the ability to empathise with other people, to feel compassion for them, and to put their needs before your own. It means, if necessary, sacrificing your own well-being for the sake of others’. It means benevolence, altruism and selflessness, and self-sacrifice towards a greater cause - all qualities which stem from a sense of empathy. It means being able to see beyond the superficial difference of race, gender or nationality and relate to a common human essence beneath them. (In contrast) …‘Evil’ people are those who are unable to empathise with others. As a result, their own needs and desires are of paramount importance. They are selfish, self-absorbed and narcissistic." 

Those two descriptions both fit my penpal Jacob – who is serving a life sentence in one of those overcrowded prisons in California.  The good description is him now – practically a saint.  And the evil description is Jacob before prison and before he was on antipsychotic medication. 

Most of us don’t need antipsychotics – but we do need Connection!  I don’t know a lot – but I do know that CONNECTION with others helps to keep us whole—and when we lose connection, we sometimes lose our ability to empathize.  And sometimes it’s because we never MAKE the connection. 

The manager of Rum Runners in Statesboro has probably never really connected with folks outside his on “Southern Heritage” culture.  So he doesn’t feel the hurt that many students feel when they walk by his establishment and see the big Plantation Room sign with rebel flags and cannons, or the signs that through coded language like “No Urban Wear” – say, in effect, “Whites Only.”  I’ve tried to connect with HIM and ask to meet with him through a FaceBook message – but he hasn’t responded.  (Since I initially wrote this sermon, a group of concerned folks had conversations with the owner in Savannah and the sign has been removed.)

And then others realize the complexity of labeling our actions in such dualistic terms anyway.  What some see as bad, others may see as good – or even godly.  The folks at my former church have thrown out their boy scout troup that has been a part of that church for generations. After the boy scouts finally entered this century and changed their rules to become more inclusive, some churches saw them as ungodly – and have decided to sponsor a Christian scouting organization instead.  First Baptist pastor John Waters said (quote from WTOC article):  "This wasn’t a knee jerk reaction. It wasn't something that we hastily decided. But with prayer and thoughtful guidance, we made the decision that there would be a better way."  He also said that the new Christian organization – Trail Life - "will fit the culture of our church and the families of this community."  I guess he doesn't recognize many of our families as part of this community.
 
Now – am I calling out Rum Runners manager Devon Bradford and Pastor John Waters as evil men?  NO!  I think they think they are doing the right thing.  It just shows how much work we have to do in this community.

But WE are guilty too of thinking we are right when we are wrong.  In our own lives, we take actions we think to HELP someone – then find that we have HURT someone with our actions.  I know I’m not the only one who has done this folks – right?  Yet, we KNOW some things are more caring, more loving, and that is why we have committed ourselves to these principles! 

We WILL stand on the side of LOVE! Like the grandfather in our story for all ages advises, we will feed that good wolf in ourselves and in our community. 

Thankfully -- Some of those that study good and evil – say that we actually choose good more than evil.  In his article in UU World, Patrick O’Neill says:  “People are almost equally capable of both good and evil, but most of the time—say, three times out of five—people choose the good. The seesaw tilts just a few degrees toward the good in this tentative world, but those few degrees are the difference between peace and Armageddon. The job of the church is to put the few stubborn ounces of our weight on the side of goodness, and press down for all we’re worth.”

That is what we strive to do here.

Oh, may it be so!

Peak Experiences!

Have You Been to the Mountaintop?  Exploring Peak and/or Religious Experiences
Rev. Jane Page
Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Statesboro
February 9, 2014


My husband Greg is very proud to be a 46er.  Now the term 46er had no meaning to me before I met Greg – and it probably doesn’t mean anything to you folks either.  But if you grew up climbing the Adirondack mountains, you would appreciate Greg’s accomplishment.  The Adirondack Forty-Sixers are hikers who have climbed all forty-six of the traditionally recognized High Peaks of the Adirondack Mountains.  Now Greg climbed most of these as a camper and camp counselor early in his life.  But he had a few more to go after we met, and shared with me that he had resolved to achieve that goal.  And in July of 2007, he did.  It was a Moutaintop – peak experience – literally and spiritually. 

These two combinations of geographical and spiritual peaks are not uncommon.  In fact some scholars maintain that the most important revelation narratives of all three major Western monotheistic religions occurred on mountains. Moses experienced God in the burning bush on Mount Horeb and was given the Commandments on Mount Sinai.   Jesus underwent the Transfiguration on a high mountain in the Holy Land and Muhammed was given the Qur’an in the cave of Hira on the mountain Jabal al-Nour. Many other religious traditions emphasize mountains and hills as holy places where one may find divine wisdom.  Perhaps it’s the lack of Oxygen!  Seriously!

I’m quoting here from an article on Mountains and Mysticism on the internet blog science on religion. 

In a 2005 article in the journal Medical Hypotheses, Arzy and colleagues compared studies of high-altitude effects on physiology with historical reports of mountaintop mystical experiences, and found some fascinating similarities. Mountain climbers suffering from the effects of high altitude and low levels of oxygen have reported such eerie experiences as sensing an invisible presence, having visual and auditory hallucinations, being swept up in powerful emotions (particularly fear), and even seeing light emanating from nearby objects or having out-of-body visions. All of these phenomena are characteristic of many religious or mystical experiences recorded throughout history.
The authors proposed several hypotheses for why mountaintops might be especially conducive to profound religious encounters. First, physical stress – a nearly unavoidable aspect of any good mountaineering adventure – releases endorphins that lower the body’s threshold for temporal lobe epileptic seizures…..

During prolonged stays in high-altitude environments, the researchers proposed, the parts of the brain surrounding the tempero-parietal junction may also become damaged, leading to shifts in one’s sense of self-awareness….. When this area is malfunctioning, eerie experiences like feeling separated from one’s own body or sensing alien presences are more likely.  Finally, the combination of high altitude and social might weaken functioning in the prefrontal cortex… When this area of the brain isn’t working properly, the owner of that brain might be more susceptible to sensory hallucinations and to accepting their validity."….It’s possible, therefore, that the extreme environmental conditions found on mountaintops may help physiologically generate mystical experiences.

These authors go on to point out however – that altitude can’t be making all that difference all the time or everyone in Colorado would constantly be talking to God.   But they are not all talking to God, are they?  Unless God's name is Mary Jane. 

Of course others find peak experiences in the woods, at the beach, in a church, in the kitchen, and, yes, in other rooms as well.  We are not limited by geography, space, place, or time. 

We humans do have these peak experiences!

And since this is Darwin weekend, I wanted to try to explain all of this from an evolutionary perspective.  There has been much written about the evolutionary origins of religions and religious experiences – too many different theories for me to share about today.  There is certainly a difference of opinion among scientists about much of this; but most will agree that we’ve certainly at least evolved to have the capacity for religion and religious experiences.   And by evolution I’m primarily referring to biological evolution – but certainly there has been social evolution – and the passing on of memes or constructs– as well as genes.  And these religious constructs have been passed on effectively because they are usually communicated in emotional situations which make them easier to remember. 

In any case, our pragmatic friend William James would tell us that it doesn’t matter how or why it came about.  He would ask instead -- what is the result of it?  What good are these experiences?

In 1902, William James published a book called The Varieties of Religious Experiences:  A Study in Human Nature.  He did not study religion or religious experiences generally, he studied specific individuals who had religious experiences – people like George Fox, who was diagnosed a schizophrenic, but who founded one of the most peaceful religions ever – The Quakers!

In his book on the Varieties of Religious Experience published in 1902 – and based on his lectures – he made these important claims as summarized by one of his biographers (from Wikipedia):
* (First) - Religious genius (experience) should be the primary topic in the study of religion, rather than religious institutions—since institutions are merely the social descendant of genius.
* (Second) The intense, even pathological varieties of experience (religious or otherwise) should be sought by psychologists, because they represent the closest thing to a microscope of the mind—that is, they show us in drastically enlarged form the normal processes of things.
* (And Third) In order to usefully interpret the realm of common, shared experience and history, we must each make certain "over-beliefs" in things which, while they cannot be proven on the basis of experience, help us to live fuller and better lives.
The investigation of mystical experience was constant throughout the life of James, leading him to experiment with chloral hydrate (1870), amyl nitrite (1875), nitrous oxide (1882), and even peyote (1896). James claimed that it was only when he was under the influence of nitrous oxide that he was able to understand Hegel. He concluded that while the revelations of the mystic hold true, they hold true only for the mystic; for others, they are certainly ideas to be considered, but can hold no claim to truth without personal experience of such.

Here’s a quote from James’ book about his reason for believing and following the path that mystics follow.  You have to listen closely because the writing is dense:  The whole drift of my education goes to persuade me that the world of our present consciousness is only one out of many worlds of consciousness that exist, and that those other worlds must contain experiences which have a meaning for our life also; and that although in the main their experiences and those of this world keep discrete, yet the two become continuous at certain points, and higher energies filter in. By being faithful in my poor measure to this over-belief, I seem to myself to keep more sane and true. I can, of course, put myself into the sectarian scientist's attitude, and imagine vividly that the world of sensations and of scientific laws and objects may be all. But whenever I do this, I hear that inward monitor of which W. K. Clifford once wrote, whispering the word "bosh!" Humbug is humbug, even though it bear the scientific name, and the total expression of human experience, as I view it objectively, invincibly urges me beyond the narrow "scientific" bounds. Assuredly, the real world is of a different temperament -- more intricately built than physical science allows. So my objective and my subjective conscience both hold me to the over-belief which I express. Who knows whether the faithfulness of individuals here below to their own poor over-beliefs may not actually help God in turn to be more effectively faithful to his own greater tasks?

Hmmmmm.  This is heavy.  I asked you for help.   Here’s what I got.  One person shared from a more academic perspective – some of the William James perspective connected with the question of whether these experiences happen as frequently as before, and two others shared experiences they have had primarily through meditation – though interestingly, neither one is meditating now….  Perhaps because they got the message.  They listened, and are now doing.  It takes both.

Just three of you responded.  Perhaps I should not be asking anyway.  Some who have experienced significant peak experiences say that those who have had the experience don’t need to ask – and those who haven’t had the experience – can’t understand anyway. 

My son John, who has had these significant experiences, says this is a cop out for folks who want to control it and not explain it.  So I asked him about his experiences.  Did he see visions of sugarplums dancing it his head – or what?

He said, “No – I saw the world as it really was.”  John explained that he heard a voice in his head that he believed was not himself thinking at the time – but a separate entity; and he accepted it as such saying, “You live your life on faith anyway.”  He said this being was loving and had a sense of humor.  And he tried to listen, observe, and learn.  John says his experience opened up parts of his brain so that he could see patterns of human behavior that he had not seen before.  He said, “People move like fish.  We’re on a river, but we can’t see the water.  There are more connections to each other than we realize.”  He says that when having that experience, you can observe things in nature that teach you life lessons.  It’s not that he saw things that weren’t there.  But he really saw what WAS there so much more truthfully and intensely. 

Here’s an example.  He was on a riverbank in this nature park at the time and a man rode by in a boat and hollered up – I used to live there.  I used to live right there but they took my house away from me.  And John looked down and saw some concrete blocks in the ground – the remains of a foundation – the man’s house, and then he noticed some little bug creatures making their home there.  And he thought – "the home is still here, but it’s someone else’s now.  Some things remain, and some things change – and we have to move on.  It’s someone else’s turn.”  Theodore Parker preached a famous sermon on the Permanent and Transient trying to get folks to understand this.  But John learned it well that day – and it has stuck with him because of the overwhelming feelings of connection he had. 

Now John says the problem comes when folks want to keep that feeling or get back to it, and try for their rest of their lives through various religious practices or taking drugs or whatever to get to to that when in reality, they’ve learned the lesson they needed to learn.  He reminded me that Mother Teresa had the experience of God talking to her, telling her that she needed to feed and clothe the hungry. And she continued to pray and hope for that special experience again, but she never had it.  Nevertheless, she lived it – she did it.  She learned the lesson and she lived it.  And isn’t that more important!!

I don’t climb a lot of Mountains anymore – literally or spiritually.  I stick with the foothills, perhaps because it’s safer. Similarly, Maslow suggested that as we age physically, the intensity of peak moments gives way to a gentler, more sustained state of serenity that he called plateau-experiences.  As he poetically observed in RELIGIONS, VALUES, AND PEAK-EXPERIENCES, "The great lesson from the true mystics {is that} the sacred is in the ordinary, that it is to be found in one's daily life, in one's neighbors, friends, and family, in one's backyard."  That’s good, because I know from experience with others, that you can fall off the edge of a Mountain.  And I also know that you can learn from the rhythm of a good jog around the neighborhood or walk around the labyrinth too.  You may not have a peak experience, but you can feel the oneness and the call to goodness.  Then you can remember it. 

And that’s another reason that we come to church…  to remember the oneness, to just touch the connection – know it’s there, and be inspired to live life more fully and to help others to do so as well.  So today -- whether we are remembering the thunder from the Mountaintops – or that voice still and small – may it call us to nurture and heal ourselves and the world.

Amen and Blessed Be.

Just Jane: A Spiritual Odyssey

In the Beginning….

I was born on October 9 1950 at 5:12 a.m. in the Bulloch County Hospital in Statesboro, the second child of J.G. Altman and Christine Rogers Altman.

My parents were truly working class folks who were among those people in the post war years who strived hard to move up in the world.  They had both grown up relatively poor – and both were determined to work hard enough, smart enough, and long enough to BE somebody in town and reach that next level of folks whose children had it better than they did.  And, indeed, we did.

Not that there weren’t difficulties.  My very earliest memories were of the Bulloch County Hospital where I was taken after a tragic accident that left me with a critical head injury.  I was supposed to have died, but the doctors and “the good Lord” saved me.  I had lots of attention at the hospital – and gradually began to talk again and walk again.  The first book that I remember was one that I received in the hospital -- Digger Dan.  Digger Dan was a steam shovel and there was one just like him outside the hospital window, for they were building a new wing at the time.  Perhaps being able to connect that story of Digger Dan with the real life “goings on” at the hospital encouraged me to understand the importance that books could have in my life.  In any case, I did fall in love with books – and it’s been a lifelong love affair. 

When I was taken home, my parents were told that I could not hit my head and I should not get hot.  So we got window units for my bedroom and the main room that I would be in – and that MAIN room was my mom’s little home beauty shop. She moved my high chair in that shop and I remained there with her and all the ladies.  They held me in their laps and interacted with me and read books to me and, indeed, helped to raise me.  Our home with my mom’s shop was right across from the front gates of Georgia Teachers College – now Georgia Southern University.  All of the women whose husbands taught there and the women who  taught there were my mom's customers.   These were educated women who valued reading, writing, and good conversation.  And a once extremely shy toddler bloomed into a gregarious, talkative, curious little girl.  I thank these ladies – a few who are still living – for that experience, and my mom for sharing her work with me. 

When I was five, we moved across town, just one block away from First Baptist Church on Woodrow Avenue.  I loved that split level on Woodrow Avenue.  We lived upstairs and my mom’s bigger beauty shop was downstairs.  The shop was big enough for three or four operators and Mama became the most sought after beautician in town.  The shop provided a place for me to work after school and in the summer.  And I worked diligently, sweeping hair, handing rollers to the operators, booking appointments, and when I was older, doing the payroll. 

Even so—there was plenty of time to play with the neighbors.  My brother Johnny and I had the freedom to roam the neighborhood. When we were a little older, we roamed the town.  We walked or rode our bikes all over Statesboro.  When the Medical Center Pharmacy opened here on the corner of Granade and Grady, it stayed open on Sunday afternoons and welcomed all of us to hang out at the snack bar and read the comics.  Yeah, it was that kind of white middle class childhood like you see in Norman Rockwell paintings.  And for the most part, it was fun for me. 

Sunbeam Girl

Though the Medical Center Pharmacy became a Sunday afternoon hangout – my biggest hangout spot growing up was First Baptist Church.  Since I could easily walk to all the activities, I was there just about any time the doors opened. 

And even if they were not opened for religious activities, my friends and I would have fun exploring various parts generally off limits, which included some swim time in the baptistery and dangerous explorations to the steeple.  For the most part, though, I was a “good” little Baptist, attending Sunbeams (for preschoolers), then Girls’ Auxiliary, children’s choir, plus Sunday School every Sunday morning before church and Training Union in the evening before evening services. I had good Sunday School teachers, for the most part, and believed everything they told me – everything.  During a revival service when I was nine years old, I walked down the aisle to “take Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior” and join the church.  I was baptized later by long time minister J. Robert Smith.  I remember feeling a bit disappointed that all I felt after the baptism was WET – but nevertheless, I was a baptized believer – and vowed I would be a good Christian. 

Teen Troubles

When I was 12 years old, I walked down the aisle again and rededicated my life – as if a 12 year old needed to do that.  But I felt that need to make an even stronger commitment.  And that’s when I got into trouble.  For you see, I became so committed that I decided to really study the Bible – all of the Bible, not just what the Sunday School teachers shared with me.  And of course, there are lots of contradictions in the Bible and lots of really weird things that just didn’t seem too holy to me. 

Soon after – in the 8th grade, we started studying Norse mythology in Mrs. Roach’s English class.  So here I was reading the Bible – and wondering about lots of the strange things I was reading; then also studying Norse mythology – and realizing that these stories had some of the SAME strange happenings as those I found in the Bible; and my little brain cells lit up with the realization that perhaps they were all the same. 

Now I still WANTED to be a good Christian and have that Christian GLOW on my face when I sang in the choir.  (Demonstrate)  My heart wanted to believe. But my mind was pushing back.  Add to that mix the hormones that come at this age, and first love, and first real heartbreak – with no help from prayers to Jesus who was supposed to be my savior.  I cried almost every night my ninth grade year.  

But then I started hanging out with Sammy Johnson and the motorcycle boys and felt a little better.  If you knew me in high school you would have described me as an outgoing, fun-loving, motorcycle riding, boy-loving, kind of wild girl who was also extremely dedicated to her church and her faith.  And all of that was very confusing.  I could not decide whether I was better suited to becoming a Hell’s Angel or a nun.  Seriously, that’s how confused I was.  After a while, I decided that the Hells Angel or Nunnery possibilities weren’t realistic but I was determined that I was going to leave Statesboro.  My senior English teacher had convinced me that I was a good writer, so I decided to apply to UGA’s Henry Grady School of Journalism and have a good time at that party school, then head to Atlanta to work for the Atlanta Journal.  I was going to be "Brenda Starr." 

Then along came Fred.

An Education for Fred and Me

The Page boys (Fred, Vick, and Will) were also active in First Baptist Church.  Fred had finished high school in 1965, and had attended a couple of other schools for post secondary work before being accepted into Georgia Southern College.  I was a senior at Statesboro High and that fall Fred asked me to go with him to the “Starlight Ball” at Georgia Southern.  To get the chance to go to a college ball with a handsome guy was too good to pass up.  I went.  He charmed me, and that was that. 

My acceptance to the Journalism School at UGA arrived in the mail – but by that time, I was too much in love to consider leaving and decided that I would remain in Statesboro and attend Georgia Southern with Fred.  He asked me to marry him and I accepted – thinking that it would still be years away.  We kept moving the date up and up – and “sort of” eloped on June 12, 1968, just days after my high school graduation and the day before I registered for Georgia Southern.  I say “sort of” because I took my parents with us.  After all, I was just 17 – too young to marry even in South Carolina without my parents' signature.   

Fred and I both majored in Elementary Education and took almost all of our classes together. He went from being a poor student to being a good one – and I became not only a better student, but an excellent tutor as well.   We continued our journey together through three degrees at Georgia Southern and our doctorate degrees at Mississippi State.

The Total Woman – NOT!

Fred and I remained active in First Baptist and with the College Student Union while we were students.  Actually that’s when I got my first opportunity to preach in a little chapel that looked kind of like this. 

Shhhhh.   No one was supposed to know.  At that time the Baptist Student Union conducted Sunday Services at the Bulloch County prison camp.  During the summer most of the students left, and Fred and I volunteered to continue the services.  The plan was for him to preach and for me to play the piano.  But he gladly turned the pulpit over to me; and I gladly took it.  We knew this was a special situation and it was not something we could even tell anyone about.  The guys in prison didn’t mind though – and that’s what counted to us. 

Fred was actually pretty open to me being a little different; but he was more concerned about what folks THOUGHT.  We had to at least SEEM to be a traditional couple – and LORD I TRIED!!  I stayed home with our two boys when they were little and I even took a workshop at First Baptist called “The Total Woman.”  Needless to say, I was not their model student.  It just didn’t take with me – and Fred seemed okay with that, as long as we looked traditional enough to others.  They must have approved because they invited Fred to be ordained as a deacon when he was just 27.

My own spiritual growth and development was complicated.  On the outside, it looked terrific.  When in my 20’s, I was President of Baptist Young Women, a regular in the church choir, the pianist for one of the children’s choirs, a teacher of  “Mission Friends” and a Sunday School teacher of 8th grade girls.  But I was secretly continuing the journey I had started as a young teenager of reading, studying, and thinking for myself.  And I was changing.  I was becoming more liberal socially, politically, and of course, theologically.  I would share just enough of my new ideas with folks at church to remain in good standing – but they suspected I was falling out of line.  And my husband knew it. 

Are we there yet?

As young parents, we heard that call from the backseat of the car from our two boys, Fred and John, often when we traveled to Valdosta to visit my husband’s great Aunt or when we traveled to ballgames or for family vacations.  But this refrain is also a good header for this period of my life because I was always moving, working, hurrying, and scurrying. 

I began work as an assistant professor at Georgia Southern in 1979, shortly before my 29th birthday, and resolved to be a full professor by the time I was 40.  No time to waste.  Our children were enrolled in the laboratory school next door, which was awesome for us.  Fred also worked in the College of Education and we continued the partnership we had as students by doing all our research together.  Our primary research was related to the teacher shortage that was growing at that time.  As we “milked our data” for other presentation and publication opportunities, we reported on subgroups according to various categories – teaching disciplines, age, gender, and race.  And that’s when I really began to receive what was a higher calling, because I became committed to working through my research to publicize what had become a devious method for re-segregating the schools; the academic tracking of children from as early as kindergarten. 

By my late thirties, qualitative methods became more acceptable in educational research and I began to interview African American teachers as part of my research.  As I interviewed one teacher who shared her experiences of not only students being tracked but teachers as well, tears came to her eyes and I thought, “I cannot just research this stuff and present and publish this stuff.  That is not enough.  I must actively and openly work to help change the system here at home and beyond.” 

So I came out as an activist for change and haven’t stopped since.  And this, I believe, is where my partnership with my husband became strained.  He was openly supportive of me, but he questioned me on my ideas when we were at home.  He too believed in equality, he said.  But did I also think it was okay for blacks and whites to marry?  “Of course,” I said.  And I added same-gender couples to my approval list as well. 

Fred wasn’t there yet – and he did not like that I “thought differently” than he did.  He said, “We are married, we should think alike if we are going to have a strong marriage.”

I replied, “Well, I don’t see it that way.  Maybe we are like Ying and Yang.  Maybe our differing views complement each other.”  It had been okay in the past with him, but now my differing views were being made more and more public.  The next thing you know, I may be pushing for changes at church.  And YES, I did!   

On August 9, 1992, our pastor preached a sermon indicating that the Bible was an authority and was inerrant. In my Couples Sunday School class the following Sunday I presented information which challenged his message.  I included lists of things in the Bible that it would have been difficult for this moderate group to believe – and I added verses related to women’s subservience to that ridiculous list as well.   I was calling out my pastor from my little Sunday School pulpit.  My public witness door was opened now in the church as well, and I wasn’t going back in.  For I felt that my work with others WAS making a difference! 

Meanwhile, I was being promoted at work and had become the chair of a department that would change as well.  The Department grew from a small group of mostly old men who did no research to a vibrant, diverse group of free-thinking guys and gals who developed a doctoral program that leaned even further to the left than I did.  And I was becoming known at the University for not only being a hard working woman, but as someone who would stand up for faculty and students, for folks in education, and for the oppressed.  Yes, that would later get me in trouble – but for now, I felt like I could fly with those Eagles winning those championships.  I was even back on a motorcycle.  Like Helen Reddy, I was woman – strong and invincible – at least at work.  There was a perfume advertisement that was popular back then with a woman I tried to identify with who sang:  “I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in the pan, and never, ever let him forget he’s a man. – Cause I’m a woman!”  Well, I could bring home the bacon – but obviously fell short in other areas. 

Frustrating Forties

Indeed, I was bringing home the bacon but became less and less interested in frying it up in the pan.  We ate a lot of bad fast food – and my younger son blames me for feeding him all those growth hormones via the food we ate.  He says that’s why he and his brother are so big now and it takes more food (and therefore more money) to feed them.  And in terms of keeping my husband happy – boy, did I try!  I shall not share what lengths I went to … but I did try.  However, the failure of me and our boys to fit his idea of that traditional Baptist family drove him into depression.  His only relief seemed to be in running away to Brunswick, where he could always arrange for night classes – with days on the beach and evenings after class receiving warm fuzzies from graduate students enamored with his charm.  That’s how he kept his sanity.  I begged him to see a marriage counselor with me – knowing that his extracurricular activities were not the cause of the problem – but the result.  He refused.  I have often wondered what would have been the result of some good counseling at that time in our lives.  Would it have made a difference?

I kept my sanity through working and through reading.  Although I did read theology, philosophy, and psychology – my biggest revelations came through radical fiction – especially writings of the likes of Tom Robbins.  This was also the phase in my life where I discovered Unitarian Universalism and sent off for the materials – hoping they would come in a plain brown wrapper.  I hid them in a bathroom drawer under the feminine sanitary supplies with my other reading contraband. 

Eventually things at First Baptist got too difficult.  Because of my social justice activities in the community and my push for equality for women and more openness to African Americans in church, I was literally shunned by many.  After one study group meeting in which I encouraged the study of the role of women in the church – “Just study it” I asked, I was confronted by the chairman of the Board of Deacons and by the pastor who demanded that I withdraw the recommendation.  And the pastor basically let me know that he had to follow the power – and that was not me.   I decided to move on – not from my marriage; but from my church which had been such a meaningful part of my life.  But I knew I couldn’t go to UU.  That WOULD have meant the end of my marriage.

I joined Pittman Park United Methodist Church after finding that they had a liberal Sunday School class.  I also joined their choir and began training as a Methodist lay minister.  After getting that certification, I began preaching at some evening services.  This was a good transition for me, my "half-way" house. But the doctrine was still stifling.  Shari Barr was also going to that class but would leave a little early to go to the UU church.  I envied her.  But I had my family to consider.

And we continued for a while to have that “happy family” appearance to the community, while we all struggled at home.  My sons had especially problematic teen and young adult years.  I was constantly in a “fix it” mode for them.  My in-laws were also very sick during this time.  And our lives were getting more depressing.  I told NO ONE about any of this – and instead screamed at the trees at night when I needed an outlet. 

My Awakening!

My religious reading included Buddhism.  But I never thought that I would have the kind of enlightening experience that the Buddha did.  Perhaps mine is not comparable, but I tell you – I did WAKE UP on Christmas day, 1997!

I remember the spot where I was standing. I was holding grandson JD who was almost a year old on my hip.  It was his very first Christmas. But his grandfather wasn’t there.  Fred had left the night before saying he was just too severely depressed to be with us.    And it was Christmas.  And we were all depressed.  Then...it just fell on me.  I woke up.  And for the first time in my life I realized that we didn’t have to live that way.  And I said it out loud. 

“You know what?  We don’t have to live this way.  We are going to get a divorce.” 

My life changed after that.  I changed everything.   I colored my hair, I re-modeled my house, and I – at last – became a Unitarian Universalist!

I LOVED Unitarian Universalism.  Indeed, I’ve described this religion as my salvation. I was not born with the gift of unquestioning faith like some.  But I was born with the need for religious community.  I found a home here.  Here was a place that I could ask questions, share my doubts, and affirm my commitments to those values that had become so important to me.  I also met Greg here, and what a support he has been on this journey.  And HERE was a place where my gay friends could come and be OUT – Hallelujah!  To use one of my dad’s phrases, I was “in HOG HEAVEN.” 

My Ministerial Journey

Because I had been a lay minister at the Methodist church, I sought to continue some kind of lay ministry at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Statesboro.  And folks here were glad to have me fill their pulpit for free and take on other responsibilities.  It wasn’t long before I realized that these activities were becoming more important to me than my job at Georgia Southern.  So I made an appointment with the nice lady at Human Resources to see when it would be possible to retire with full benefits.  And I learned that I could retire in 2005.  So I began to look at the possibility of going to seminary and becoming a REAL minister.  It would not be easy.  But it was possible.  The congregation agreed to be my sponsor and I was accepted by into the modified residency program of Meadville Lombard Theological School – a Unitarian Universalist seminary in Chicago.  With careful planning and an earned sabbatical from Georgia Southern, I would be able to complete most of my coursework and my clinical pastoral counseling unit by the time I retired.  Then I would have only a one year internship remaining.  That was the plan – and it became my reality. 

I jumped through all of UUA’s hoops for preliminary fellowship in March of 2006 and immediately let the folks here at UUFS know.  They had a meeting of the congregation and called me as their minister.  I began on July 1, 2006 – and I’m still here, now in my eighth year.  I’m enjoying the fact that our ministry has become a shared ministry with participation from many of our members and friends.  And last year, I joyfully welcomed that little child who had been on my hip at my awakening – as a full member of this fellowship.   

I have not been without struggles.  We have not been without struggles.  Yet – all in all—I still feel like I’m in a spiritual HOG HEAVEN!

The Building Your Own Theology Course that I’m sharing with others asks for us to consider theological values that have informed our journeys.  I’ll have to think some more on that…, but for now I would probably say “continuous revelation.”    

Perhaps I’ll reveal more later.  But for now --  as fellow Hog Heaven inhabitant Porky Pig says, “That’s All Folks!”