A friend of mine recently recommended watching the Netflix Mini-Series “East of Eden”. It is based on the novel by the Same name by John Steinbeck. It is a decent adaptation, although of course it is selective in what parts it explores and misses out. East of Eden is a kind a re-telling of the Biblical tale of Cain and Abel. It is set over two generations and two sets of brothers. It is never entirely clear which of the first pair of brothers is the father of the second pair who are twins.

My friend had binge watched it with his mum. He cares and lives with her as she enters the last few months of her life. These are precious moments and brings much to their hearts and minds as they share time together. There were many scenes in the series that capture the imagination and explore its basic themes. The final scene seems to encapsulate the ethic at the heart of the novel and Steinbeck’s view of humanity. He said of “East of Eden”, that everything he had written up to this point was in preparation for writing the novel.

The story concludes with a deathbed scene. The father Adam is dying having suffered another stroke having heard the news that his son Abra has died at war. The other son Caleb (Cal) is carrying the guilt and shame for driving his brother to go to war, having brought him to see their mother, Kate or Cathy. She is a character depicted as pure evil. Cal believes he is like his mother in nature. The final scene is a moment when his father could leave his son with generational guilt, that he would carry this on into the next generation. Adam himself had carried guilt from his own brother’s death earlier in the book. The family’s servant and primary care giver Lee encourages Cal to go to his father and for his father to choose to offer his surviving son forgiveness. Adam, barely able to speak says to Cal “Timshel” meaning “Thou Mayest”.

In saying “Timshel”, Adam is finally offering his less favoured son Cal the love he has withheld from him. He is also offering forgiveness and the opportunity to live a new life free from the generational trauma and guilt. He is offered a different path should he so choose it. It is up to him. Nothing is inevitable, nothing is fated. He does not have follow the path of those before him. He is not his mother, who is the monstrous character at the heart of the story, nor to remain bitter and broken like his father, cut off from all human emotion. After his father blesses him Cal hugs his father for the first time and lies with him. These last moments are the first moments of their true connection.

Watching those moments brought back powerful feelings of being at the deathbed of my own father and paternal grandfather. These are powerful feelings and memories. I also looked at my own response and those final conversations. I also thought of my friend and the final months he is spending with his mother. Now we do not know what happened to Cal after his father died. That was down to his response to life as it happened. What is clear is that he is set free to live his life, free from ancestral guilt. It was down to the choices he makes in the future. This is powerful, if only we could hold to the truth. It is something that I have held in me heart these last few weeks as I have been away from work and off and an adventure in Prague with the word “Timshel” and Steinbeck’s interpretation in his great novel “Thou Mayest” singing in my heart.

Now Steinbeck’s interpretation of “Timshel” is disputed. Technically the Hebrew word from Genesis Ch 4 v 7 should be spelled “Timshol”. Some translate it is as “Thou shalt rule” or “Thou wilt rule”. The 1917 Jewish publication society translates it as “Thou mayest rule over.” Steinbeck chose “Timshel” and it is the essence of the novel and his view of humanity. That nothing was sealed, nothing was fated, we can make our own decisions.

“Timshel” first appears in the middle of Steinbeck’s novel and is the central theme and ethic at the heart of this epic. It appears during a conversation between Adam Trask, Lee and Samuel Hamilton. Adam is a kind but flawed man who keeps on making bad decisions at crucial times in his life. Perhaps his biggest flaw being that he can be too trusting when it is obvious that a particular person’s motives are not well intentioned. Lee who is the family servant of Chinese origin living at a time of overt racism towards the Chinese community is California. Lee claims to have discovered “Timshel” which he sees as the most important word in Hebrew. The final character is Samuel Hamilton. He is based on Steinbeck’s own grandfather. He is a man who is respected and admired by all who know him. He has a sharp and inquiring mind and deep love for reading.

I cannot share the whole extract but will share a crucial passage that follows.

“After two years we felt that we could approach your sixteen verses of the fourth chapter of Genesis. My old gentlemen felt that these words were very important too—‘Thou shalt’ and ‘Do thou.’ And this was the gold from our mining: ‘Thou mayest.’ ‘Thou mayest rule over sin.’ The old gentlemen smiled and nodded and felt the years were well spent. It brought them out of their Chinese shells too, and right now they are studying Greek.”

Samuel said, “It’s a fantastic story. And I’ve tried to follow and maybe I’ve missed somewhere. Why is this word so important?”

Lee’s hand shook as he filled the delicate cups. He drank his down in one gulp. “Don’t you see?” he cried. “The American Standard translation orders men to triumph over sin, and you can call sin ignorance. The King James translation makes a promise in ‘Thou shalt,’ meaning that men will surely triumph over sin. But the Hebrew word, the word timshel—‘Thou mayest’— that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. That says the way is open. That throws it right back on a man. For if ‘Thou mayest’—it is also true that ‘Thou mayest not.’ Don’t you see?”

“Yes, I see. I do see. But you do not believe this is divine law. Why do you feel its importance?”

“Ah!” said Lee. “I’ve wanted to tell you this for a long time. I even anticipated your questions and I am well prepared. Any writing which has influenced the thinking and the lives of innumerable people is important. Now, there are many millions in their sects and churches who feel the order, ‘Do thou,’ and throw their weight into obedience. And there are millions more who feel predestination in ‘Thou shalt.’ Nothing they may do can interfere with what will be. But ‘Thou mayest’! Why, that makes a man great, that gives him stature with the gods, for in his weakness and his filth and his murder of his brother he has still the great choice. He can choose his course and fight it through and win.” Lee’s voice was a chant of triumph.

Adam said, “Do you believe that, Lee?”

“Yes, I do. Yes, I do. It is easy out of laziness, out of weakness, to throw oneself into the lap of deity, saying, ‘I couldn’t help it; the way was set.’ But think of the glory of the choice! That makes a man a man. A cat has no choice, a bee must make honey. There’s no godliness there. And do you know, those old gentlemen who were sliding gently down to death are too interested to die now?”

Adam said, “Do you mean these Chinese men believe the Old Testament?”

Lee said, “These old men believe a true story, and they know a true story when they hear it. They are critics of truth. They know that these sixteen verses are a history of humankind in any age or culture or race. They do not believe a man writes fifteen and three-quarter verses of truth and tells a lie with one verb. Confucius tells men how they should live to have good and successful lives. But this—this is a ladder to climb to the stars.” Lee’s eyes shone. “You can never lose that. It cuts the feet from under weakness and cowardliness and laziness.”

“Timshel”, “Thou Mayest” is the theme at the heart of the story. That we have the freedom to make choices and decisions, even if we have got it wrong many times before, nothing is predetermined. We aren’t the only force at work of course. We can only choose within the confines of the world in which we find ourselves.

These thoughts were singing in my heart as I wandered round Prague and spent time in conversations with people from different parts of the world. People from different cultures with vastly different histories, but who at the heart was a tradition that believed in human capacity. I listened to three histories of Unitarianism from a Czech, Transylvania and American perspective and shared from a British perspective myself. I walked round a city that a little over forty years ago was under Communist rule, freedom was limited in ways I cannot even begin to imagine. I shared in some beautiful conversations, it is amazing what people will share with you. I spoke with a mother of two teenage children who shared that freedom came at the age her children were now and how she cannot even begin to convey to them what that was like then. I had an incredible conversation with a man who shared about his upbringing in a culture he felt was alien to him, one that they consider the ultimate in freedom, but is fraught with danger. He shared of the decisions he had made and some of his regrets as well as those of his family, especially his son who made a terrible decision, one which has led to his loss of liberty and the guilt he feels for perhaps not always being there for his son. He himself is embarking on a new career and the privilege and challenges of making these choices. It was a week rich in conversation and experience. One which will feed me for months no doubt. I am grateful that you allowed me to go.

As I was wandering sometimes getting lost, actuakly taking the same wrong turn several times I was reminded of a wonderful piece that I always relate too,

Autobiography in Five Short Chapters – Portia Nelson

I
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in.
I am lost … I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes me forever to find a way out.

II
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place
but, it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

III
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in … it’s a habit.
my eyes are open
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

IV
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

V
I walk down another street.

by Portia Nelson

As I wandered around the beautiful city one day and thought of the decisions we make and of course the limits of those decisions. The mistakes me make and the opportunities we have to put things right or fail to put them right. I remembered a wonderful and funny anecdote from Steinbeck’s life. Apparently his puppy ate half the original manuscript for Of Mice and Men. Steinbeck said ‘I was pretty mad, but the poor little fellow may have been acting critically’." Now I wish I'd known this when we read “Of Mice and Men” at school. Could've used it as an excuse for not handing in my homework.

This reminded me of the work of Viktor Frankl. That when he was imprisoned in a Nazi death camp not only was his liberty taken from him, but also his work. Of course it was his determination to continue his work and the love of his wife that helped him find the meaning that kept him alive in this hell hole. Frankl could have escaped the Nazi death camps, but chose to remain with his family. In 1941 he was offered an American visa that could save his life. But his elderly parents couldn't come with him. Viktor struggled with the decision of personal freedom while leaving his family to face their fate.

One day while visiting his parents home he noticed a small piece of marble lying on a table. His father explained that he had recovered it from the ruins of a synagogue destroyed by the Nazis. The fragment came from a representation of the Ten Commandments. Just one gilded Hebrew letter remained. It referred to a commandment Viktor knew well. “Honor thy father and thy mother.” Viktor made his decision, he stayed, and his Visa expired. Later that year, he married a nurse named Tilly Grosser. The whole family were deported to the Theresienstadt ghetto. His father Gabriel died there from starvation and pneumonia. Viktor and Tilly were sent to Auschwitz. For years, Viktor had been writing a book about the human search for meaning. He had hidden the manuscript inside the lining of his coat. At Auschwitz, the guards took his belongings, his clothes, his coat and the manuscript he had spent years writing, everything was lost. Everything but the one thing that was at the heart of his work. In those horrific conditions where millions were brutalised and murdered he remembered a line from Friederich Nietzsche “He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how.” Frankl began his search for his own reason. He imagined standing in a lecture hall after the war, explaining what he had witnessed. He began rebuilding his lost manuscript in his mind.

Whenever possible, he wrote ideas on scraps of paper. He also thought about Tilly. He imagined conversations with her, pictured her face, remembered the life they shared together. He also turned his thoughts and actions to helping others, helped them find their own meaning, for something in the future. In April 27, 1945 he and others were liberated. He was the only member of his family to survive who had stayed behind. His sister Stella who had escaped to Australia and was still living. Frankl returned to Vienna and continued his work, he also reconstructed his lost manuscript and published it as “The Doctor and the Soul”. He began writing another book. This one was about what he had experienced inside the concentration camps. He dictated it in just nine days. In 1946 “Man's Search for Meaning” was published. It’s central message stating People cannot always choose their circumstances. Yet even in extreme suffering, they may retain some freedom in how they respond.

As he said "everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way." That even in conditions of absolute horror, a person's inner reaction is still a personal choice. Not an easy one though.

As I have said many times “Man’s Search for Meaning” is one of the two most important books I have ever read. I see strong parallels between Frankl’s concept of the last of human freedoms, to choose one’s own way and Steinbeck’s Timshel as outlined in “East of Eden”. Both reject the idea that we are merely passive products of our genetics, parenting, or environments. The proclaim each persons ability to choose ones response is not just a simple gift but a heavy ethical burden. For Frankl it is centred around Logotherapy, the idea that human beings are driven primarily by a "will to meaning" rather than pleasure or power. He famously proposed that the United States supplement the Statue of Liberty on the East Coast with a Statue of Responsibility on the West Coast, arguing that freedom without responsibility degenerates into arbitrariness. Steinbeck's novel acts as a practical illustration of this idea. Written as a moral paradigm for his sons, East of Eden demonstrates through the generational struggles of the Trask family that true meaning and redemption are found when characters take responsibility for their choices, break cycles of resentment, and actively choose love and goodness over passive victimhood.

Now this all sounds pretty simple. Maybe it is but it is far from easy. I know myself I fall short every day. I make decisions or refuse to make decisions that my heart and soul know are correct. I am far from perfect. That said I strive each and every day and attempt to live free form the regret of I would have if only I could have. Well, these two post war master pieces remind me of what is possible if I keep on turning imperfectly towards what might yet be.

I’m going to end with a final favourite line from “East of Eden” It is spoken by the heart and soul of the story Lee who says to Abra after falling short once again and saying she never felt good enough. He tells her:

“And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good.”

We start where we are and do what we can with what we have, perfectly imperfect children of love, knowing that perfection is the enemy of the good.

Please find below a video devotion based on the material in this "blogspot"

Come as you are, come find home here, come find acceptance, come find shelter”

Mothering Sunday, Mother’s Day, whatever its actual true origins, and they are many varied and complicated, is at its heart about coming home to a deep, accepting and nurturing love. This may not be with our biological mothers, but it will be somewhere in some state, I hope you find that place of acceptance, love and rest.

Mothering Sunday, Mother’s Day is enshrined in this image of returning home, and this sense of belonging to something more than ourselves. Whether that is actually of children returning to the family home having been working away or of people returning to the mother church. Either way it’s about returning home to a place of safety; it is about returning home to a place of renewal, of re-birth, not only for ourselves but for others too; it is about returning to a place of love and total acceptance of who we are, exactly as we, no matter what we have done or where we have been, we are accepted with open loving arms.

A place of safety, a constant a home, is vital for anyone to build a life. This often comes to mind when I see images of displaced people, of refugees, people who have no home, who are fleeing their homeland, how terrifying this must be. How frightening to be crossing the water or a foreign land just to find safety. In recent times such people have often been vilified and distrusted, how this must feel I cannot imagine. Thankfully this does not seem to be happening with the refugees from the Ukraine, but it certainly has been in the not too distant past. They are the same people as we are, born under the same sun, living on the same earth.

Welcoming the stranger, welcoming the visitor, welcoming the dispossessed is at the core of every spiritual tradition that I know of and yet so often we reject the stranger. By the way the stranger is sometimes people who have become estranged from our lives and even aspects of our own being that we have become estranged from. For me at the core of the love we call mother is this welcome of all, whoever you are, wherever you have been, come home, come home again soon. You are welcome here as you are, exactly as you are in this moment. This is certainly at the core of my understanding of faith, it is certainly the faith I try to live and practice. It sounds simple, but it certainly isn’t easy, far from it.

This brings to mind those wonderful words, I love so much, by Rumi

“Come, come, whoever you are. Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. It doesn't matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. Come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times. Come, yet again , come , come.”

When we return home to “mother” we are a returning to a place of total acceptance. This is the community I believe in. This is the church I dream of. This is how the “Kin-dom of God”, the “Commonwealth of Love” is meant to be like. It is the prodigal son or daughter returning to the loving arms of the “Mother Community” totally accepted as they are ready to begin again in love.

This brings to mind some beautiful words of prayer, a redemptive prayer I first heard many years ago.

"We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love."

For remaining silent when a single voice would have made a difference
We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.
For each time that our fears have made us rigid and inaccessible
We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.
For each time that we have struck out in anger without just cause
We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.
For each time that our greed has blinded us to the needs of others
We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.
For the selfishness which sets us apart and alone
We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.
For falling short of the admonitions of the spirit
We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.
For losing sight of our unity
We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.
For these and for so many acts both evident and subtle which have fuelled the illusion of separateness
We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love

When I think of Motherhood and or the Mother Church, I think of returning to a place of sustenance of nurture where one feels that they can recharge and renew in safety. A place where you are accepted wholly as you are. From here you can begin again in love, you can if you like be born again, be given birth to once again.

Columbian author, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, wrote in, “Love in the Time of Cholera”, “…human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but…life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.”

Our lives often take different directions at times. We turn down a new pathway, again and again and again. Often, we will go down blind alleys, again and again and again. Often, we repeat the same mistakes again and again and again. We do not always learn from our mistakes. This is so very human and even if we have made those mistakes a thousand times, we can always begin again in love, we can always return home to a place of acceptance.

This brings to my mind the wonderful poem “Autobiography in Five Short Chapters” by Portia Nelson

1. I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost … I am hopeless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

2. I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I’m in the same place.
But it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

3. I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in … it’s a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

4. I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

5. I walk down another street.

We can begin again a thousand times if need be. We can turn down a new path, or we can return home to the very beginning. It is ok.

It is a curious phrase to turn, or to turn again or even to return. Did you know that to turn or to re-turn was the original meaning of the religious word “conversion”. Conversion is rooted in the Latin word “convertere”, which meant to turn around to transform.

Now for a long time I use to think that if a person had been converted that this was the end of a process. Thankfully I no longer live under this delusion. Today when I think of conversion, I think of it as the beginning of something of the start of a journey. Today I see conversion as an ongoing process, not a once or perhaps twice in lifetime experience. We can begin again even if we have broken our vows and made same mistakes a thousand times. We can begin again in love. We can turn again; we can return to a place of re-birth. Look at “Mother Earth”, at “Mother Nature” she recycles, she returns, she begins again and again and again.

Herein, I believe, lays the association with Mothering Sunday and this idea of returning to the Mother Church. I believe that is the purpose of communities such as serve, Unitarian congregations. A place that welcomes the traveller home, to the loving arms of mother. A place of total acceptance, wherever they have been. Not merely tolerance, as I don’t think that that is enough. No, a place of acceptance, where you can come as you are, exactly as you are in this moment. A place of loving nurture where you can either continue or if need be, begin again in love, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times.

The purpose of a free religious community is to nurture one another’s spirit. Its purpose is to nurture that love that is present deep within the souls of everyone. To nurture and develop these qualities in each other is not just the responsibility of our mother’s, we all have nurturing qualities, and we can all help to bring out the best in one another.

We can all offer one another unconditional love. We say that all are welcome here. This though must be an active quality, rather than merely words. To love each other unconditionally is to love as a mother love’s her only child. This of course is easier said than done. For those of us who have been hurt by those who were supposed to love us to offer love unconditionally is not easy. Therefore, before we can offer that love to others, we must first of all become reconciled with our own pain and our own suffering. This is one of the purposes of a church that is free, to offer a safe secure space where one can come to terms with themselves and their lives. Security and protection are both nurturing qualities of motherhood. They are also qualities which a free religious community needs to help develop in those who come, so that they will feel safe enough to develop their souls. To be who they are and to become who they are, not just to come as they are. It is the purpose of beloved community to create an environment that is secure enough to enable each of us to explore and in a safe and secure environment.

A free community needs to nourish and feed each and all. This requires us to give and not just take from what we find here. For our souls to be fed we need to give of ourselves wholeheartedly. We need to develop both sensitivity and understanding towards one another. We can also learn from the wisdom of others, from those who have walked these paths before us.

Perhaps the greatest quality that we need to develop is humour, one the most wonderful qualities of motherhood. Humour helps us to deal with life’s trials and tribulations. It also helps us to explore those most difficult and testing issues that as a spiritually vibrant community we need to explore. Humour is something I feel as a community we are very good at sharing. I have experienced a great deal of humour and warmth from the folk I serve.

So, on this day set aside to honour Mother’s let’s remember those who have offered us the unconditional and wholly accepting love of the mother ideal. Those who have offered their unquestioning love to us, even when we have broken our vows a thousand times, those who have offered their nurturing heart and encouraged us to begin again in love. Let us also though commit to living this way ourselves to offer this love to all that we meet. To not just tolerate the people, we meet as they are, but to love them and accept them, even if they have broken their vows a thousand times. Let’s offer to them the nurturing hand of love and to do so with real humour. Let us all begin again in love.

Below is a video devotion based

 on the material in this "blogspot"

Returning Home to "Mother"

“Mother’s Day” and or “Mothering Sunday” has a long history. It dates back to the time of ancient Greece and Rome. It is not merely, as some would suggest, a creation of the greeting cards company to make money out of us. The celebrations of mother and motherhood has been with us for many centuries. In Britain Mothering Sunday was about returning home either to family and or the Mother Church.

These days Mothering Sunday in the UK has become known as Mother’s Day, following the American tradition that is celebrated in May, and not the middle Sunday of Lent as it is in Britain. Interestingly though this Mother’s Day was as much about returning and bringing healing and wholeness as Mothering Sunday. The original Mother's Day was organized 1868 as a way to bring families together who had been torn apart by the “American Civil War”. Four years later Julia Ward Howe, an important Unitarian activist and author of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic”, attempted to set June 2nd aside as a day when mothers would "especially pray that war may not come to slay any mother's son." The idea did not take hold though and slipped away. Then in May of 1907, the daughter of Anna Reeves Jarvis, also named Anna, began the Mother's Day which is celebrated in the USA today. Her intention was that it be "religious and personal", a day when Americans would attend church and wear a red carnation if their mother were alive, and a white flower if deceased. President Woodrow Wilson added a patriotic flavour to it in 1914 when he signed a Congressional resolution establishing the second Sunday of May "for displaying the American Flag as a public expression of our love and reverence for the mothers of our country."

Mothering Sunday, Mother’s Day, whatever its actual true origins is enshrined in this image of returning home, and this sense of belonging to something more than ourselves. Whether that is actually of children returning to the family home having been working away or of people returning to the mother church. Either way it’s about returning home to a place of safety; it is about returning home to a place of renewal, of re-birth, not only for ourselves but for others too; it is about returning.

So there was always a sense of a celebration of something more than just our own mother’s in “Mother’s Day” whether that be the “Mother Church” or the “Mother Land”, there was always a sense of belonging to something greater than our individuals selves and even our biological families in “Mothers Day”, returning to a place of love and total acceptance of who we are, exactly as we, no matter what we have done or where we have been, we are accepted with open loving arms.

This always brings to mind those beautiful words by Rumi that I often sing in the “Singing Meditations” I lead. Although interestingly perhaps the most important words are often missed out.

“Come, come, whoever you are. Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. It doesn't matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. Come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times. Come, yet again , come , come.”

By Rumi

In many ways the key is in the words we don’t sing “It doesn’t matter…even if you have broken your vows a thousand times”

When we return home to the loving arms of our idealised mothers we are a returning to a place of total acceptance. It doesn’t matter where we have been or what we have done. The love is there, the total acceptance is there. Now for me this is the ideal of religious community and I suspect it is also what the “Kin-dom of God” would look like, what the “Commonwealth of Love” is meant to be like. It is the prodigal son or daughter returning to the loving arms of the “Mother Community” totally accepted as they are and ready to begin again in love.

This brings to mind some beautiful words of prayer, a redemptive prayer, I first heard many years ago.

"We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love."

For remaining silent when a single voice would have made a difference

We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.

For each time that our fears have made us rigid and inaccessible

We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.

For each time that we have struck out in anger without just cause

We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.

For each time that our greed has blinded us to the needs of others

We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.

For the selfishness which sets us apart and alone

We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.

For falling short of the admonitions of the spirit

We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.

For losing sight of our unity

We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.

For these and for so many acts both evident and subtle which have fuelled the illusion of separateness

We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love

When I think of Motherhood and or the Mother Church I think of returning to a place of sustenance of nurture where one feels that they can recharge and renew in safety. A place where you are accepted wholly as you are. From here you can begin again in love, you can if you like be born again, be given birth to once again.

Columbian author, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, wrote in, “Love in the Time of Cholera”, “…human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but…life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.”

Our lives often take different directions at times. We turn down a new path way, again and again and again. Often we will go down blind alleys, again and again and again. Often we repeat the same mistakes again and again and again. We do not always learn from our mistakes. This is so very human and even if we have made those mistakes a thousand times, we can always begin again in love, we can always return home to a place of acceptance.

This brings to my mind the wonderful poem “Autobiography in Five Short Chapters” by Portia Nelson

1. I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost … I am hopeless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

2. I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I’m in the same place.
But it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

3. I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in … it’s a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

4. I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

5. I walk down another street.

We can begin again a thousand times if we need to. We can turn down a new path, or we can return home to the very beginning. It is ok. 

It is a curious phrase to turn, or to turn again or even to return. Did you know that to turn or to re-turn was the original meaning of the religious word “conversion”; “conversion” is rooted in the Latin word “convertere”, which meant to turn around to transform.

Now for a long time I use to think that if a person had been converted that this was the end of a process. Thankfully I no longer live under this delusion. Today when I think of conversion I think of it as the beginning of something of the start of a journey. Today I see conversion as an ongoing process, not a once or perhaps twice in life time experience. We can begin again even if we have broken our vows and made same mistakes a thousand times. We can begin again in love. We can turn again, we can return to a place of re-birth.

Herein, I believe, lays the association with Mothering Sunday and this idea of returning to the Mother Church. I believe that is the purpose of communities such as ours to be a place that welcomes the traveller home, to the loving arms of mother. A place of total acceptance, wherever they have been. Not merely tolerance, as I don’t think that that is enough, no a place of acceptance, where you can come as you are, exactly as you are in this moment. A place of loving nurture where you can either continue or if need to begin again in love, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times.

I believe that the purpose, of free religious community, such as the Unitarian congregations I serve is to nurture one another’s spirit. Our purpose is to nurture that love that is present deep within the souls of every one of us. To nurture and develop these qualities in each other is not just the responsibility of our mother’s, we all have nurturing qualities and we can all help to bring out the best in one another.

We can all offer one another unconditional love. We say that all our welcome here. This though must be an active quality, rather than merely words. To love each other unconditionally is to love as a mother loves her only child. This of course is easier said than done. For those of us who have been hurt by those who were supposed to love us to offer love unconditionally is not easy. Therefore before we can offer that love to others we must first of all become reconciled with our own pain and our own suffering. This is one of the purposes of a church that calls itself free, to offer a safe secure space where one can come to terms with themselves and their lives. Security and protection are both nurturing qualities of motherhood. They are also qualities which a free religious community needs to help develop in those who come, so that they will feel safe enough to develop their souls. To be who they are and to become who they are, not just to come as they are. It is the purpose of the beloved communities I serve, to create an environment that is secure enough to enable each who come to explore in a safe and secure environment.

A free religious community exists to nourish and feed all. This requires those who come to give and not just take from what they find here. For each soul to be fed each needs to give and receive wholeheartedly. This requires the development of both sensitivity and understanding towards one another and the openness that allows all to learn from the wisdom of each other, from those who have walked many and varied paths.

Perhaps the greatest quality though needs to develop is humour, one the most wonderful qualities of motherhood. Humour helps us to deal with life’s trials and tribulations. It also helps us to explore those most difficult and testing issues that as a spiritually vibrant community needs to explore. Humour is something that is present within the communities I serve.

So on this day set aside to honour Mother’s let’s remember those who have offered us the unconditional and wholly accepting love of the mother ideal. Those who have offered their unquestioning love to us, even when we have broken our vows a thousand times, those who have offered their nurturing heart and encouraged us to begin again in love. Let us also though commit to living this way ourselves to offer this love to all that we meet. To not just tolerate the people we meet as they are, but to love them and accept them, even if they have broken their vows a thousand times. Let’s offer to them the nurturing hand of love and to do so with real humour. Let us all begin again in love.

Prayer for All Who Mother

We reflect in thanksgiving this day for all those whose lives have nurtured ours.

The life-giving ones
Who heal with their presence
Who listen in sympathy
Who give wise advice ... but only when asked for it.
We are grateful for all those who have mothered us
Who have held us gently in times of sorrow
Who celebrated with us our triumphs -- no matter how small
Who noticed when we changed and grew,
who praised us for taking risks
who took genuine pride in our success,
and who expressed genuine compassion when we did not succeed.
On this day that honours Mothers
let us honour all mothers
men and women alike
who from somewhere in their being
have freely and wholeheartedly given life, and sustenance, and vision to us.
Dear God, Mother-Father of us all,
grant us life-giving ways
strength for birthing,
and a nurturing spirit
that we may take attentive care of our world,
our communities, and those precious beings
entrusted to us by biology, or by destiny, or by friendship, fellowship or fate.
Give us the heart of a mother today.

Amen