The Golden Rule is, most probably, the most culturally universal ethical tenet in human history – it has been a part of human thought for more than 4000 years.  This suggests a golden link to human nature and its inherent aspirations.  It suggests a depth – something more than a simple platitude that can be easily taught and memorized. I think it’s a calling… and if taken seriously, one that asks a lot of us.  It asks that we do something – to treat others and ourselves in a certain way and to offer this treatment not based on anything in particular about the person, but only because they are a person.  That alone sufficiently qualifies them as a beloved.  The same must then be true for ourselves. I mean, it might just be me, but it can often be much easier for me to forgive the missteps of others than to forgive the shortcomings I see in myself.  But, if we want to follow the Golden Rule, we must treat ourselves as if we are lovable and valuable, just like anyone else.  This rule asks that we pay attention to our thoughts and feelings as well as the thoughts and feelings of others – and not only to pay attention, but to do something with that information.

In the ethicist column in The New York Times Magazine, Chuck Klosterman responds to the question of whether the principle of the Golden Rule holds up in a modern, diverse society as one reading of it assumes that any two people will want the same thing.  He responds:  “The Golden Rule is imperfect and, at times, too easy of a response, so I almost never directly reference it in this column. Beyond the most fundamental level, I don’t believe people want the same things. But there’s another way to consider the language of this sentiment that makes the Golden Rule self-corrective: The rule states that people should treat others the way they would want to be treated. So how do we want to be treated? Well, I certainly want to be treated in a manner that accounts for the possibility that other people can’t predict what I want. I want to be treated in a manner that does not assume all people are the same, and I never want anyone else to automatically impose their preferences upon my life (even if they believe their personal preferences are morally sound). These policies are central to how I want to be treated by others. And if this is the way I wish to be treated, it should be — according to the Golden Rule — how I treat everyone else. I should factor in my inability to read minds.”

In this sense, practicing the Golden Rule invites community – it recognizes that if I don’t want others to try to read my mind, I should not try to read theirs.  In most cases, for this principle to be effective, we have to talk to each other and even more than talk, listen.  We need to have a sense of how others are different from us, and how their situation differs from ours, uniquely tailored to their perspective and feelings in order to know what action will do no harm. We need to be aware of the diversity of our needs and dreams in order to build a connected and healthy community.

On the way home from the Women’s Overnight, I was listening to a podcast and the Rev. Burns Stanfield, pastor of the Fourth Presbyterian Church in Boston was being interviewed about his incredibly diverse community of worshippers with particular interest in how that community has been able to hold a vibrant and healthy sacred tension across major social divides for so long.  Part of his answer included this statement:  “You know, now there’s studies coming out that talk about how important connection and community is, like that one that’s saying loneliness is equivalent to—whatever, smoking a pack of cigarettes a day.  At some level, we just—we need it. For me, I feel like I think community is where we truly practice love.

Lots of us, from different traditions, will say it is a good thing to love your neighbor, to love people beyond those that you fall in love with or your family or your best friends. It’s a good thing. It’s a good value, to love your neighbor. But to really do that, and get good at it, and experience the richness of that, it takes practice. And community, particularly community with different kinds of people, is where one can practice and get better at it and—you hope—reap the benefits. It can feel easier to be by yourself, it can feel easier to be with a few like-minded souls. But I really believe in the power of working on love toward folks who vote differently and think differently and have different kinds of stories.”

I haven’t been able to get that idea out of my head this week – “practicing love.”   Why hadn’t I put those two words together before?  Of course love is a practice – could any of us claim that we are already perfect at loving?  We should call it a practice, because it takes practice.  Practicing love is an intentional act to remove oneself from our carefully crafted comfortable bubbles and ask what we can do to make someone else’s life more comfortable.  That’s an essential part of the Golden Rule, I think because,  in following it, you are practicing love… and not just love of neighbor, love of self as well.  It asks us to consider how we’d ideally wish to be treated by others and most wish we could treat them in turn. Wouldn’t we prefer mutual love to something like tolerance?  I don’t think Alice Walker’s beautiful quote would resonate with me in the same way if her claim was that we all just craved being tolerated.

When we intentionally practice love – leave our bubble and risk treating another person with the same gift of attention and generosity that we ourselves need, we can know ourselves in each other. We can learn about ourselves through each other. And I think we can see the best of ourselves in these reflections and reactions and relationships with others. And that’s not a one-and-done thing. It is a practice. It’s meeting often, and learning what to recognize. It’s about being an intentionally connected community that has a shared value in its treatment of one another.

That same podcast I referenced earlier also included this story from Rev. Stanfield, and I want to share it with you.  I hope that it resonates with you as well

“We had this man a few years ago who came every Sunday and sat in the same pew. And he got sick. And he went to the hospital. And I put the word out to people, like, “Please go visit this person if you can,” and people were doing that, all sorts of people were doing that. And this one man texted me after he visited Gail. And this man said in his text, “Pastor, I visited Gail. And for some reason, he wanted me to sing. And I sang the only song I knew: ‘Jesus Loves Me, This I Know.'” And then he added another text and said, “If the cancer doesn’t kill him, my voice will.” ‘Cause in fact he wasn’t a skilled singer, you know? However, I kept thinking about this. It was so odd because there were a number of people who visited Gail who were skilled singers—who are soloists. And so why didn’t Gail ask these other people to sing? And then I realized—I just pictured the congregation. Gail always sat in this particular pew, and this other man who visited sat right behind him. And so what Gail really wanted was his place in the community in the pew, where this guy sang behind him in whatever pitch he sang in, And that’s what he needed. That incarnation of his community.”  This man showed up and he didn’t think, “I wouldn’t want to hear someone with a voice like mine sing, so I will say no, thanks, I’m not a great singer, let me call the person who I would want to sing to me and have them come and sing for you.”

No, he showed up and perhaps he thought, “If I were in the hospital, I’d want my visitors to honor my wishes and not have to justify them.” So, he sang. He showed up and he practiced love.

“Showing up” was a phrase that appeared over and over in the chalk talk discussions that we had a few weeks ago.  “I will show up” – it was written again and again.  It was a beautiful gift, I loved it – it’s the ministry of showing up.  You can never know how much your presence counts, really matters – whether it’s an introduction or a check-in in the courtyard, or your honoring your commitment to service, or sharing your hopes and concerns, or just your very best -worst singing from the sixth row.   We can’t be a community if we don’t show up, not just for ourselves, but for one another. Being in community is a commitment to practice loving, and the more you show up, the more opportunities we all have to get better at it.  The more opportunity we have to make sure that no one can doubt that they are loved.

If it’s alright with you, let’s practice now.  One way to practice love, I think, is to offer blessings to one another.  For a minute or so, I would like to invite you into silence.  I will call out an opportunity for you to offer a silent blessing, and perhaps later today or this week, you can find the opportunity to offer your blessing in person or in writing… but for now, find a place of stillness and comfort.  Allow your eyes to close or fall softly on something in the room.  Let us breathe in the love that, as Alice Walker says, is all around us. We are held in this moment in the embrace of love that holds the universe.

-As we breathe, I invite you to call to mind and to bless the loveable that is within yourself. Name for yourself the ways in which you want to be treated because you are worthy of love. You are precious and valuable.

-Now I invite you call to mind someone who has shown you that they understand the way you want to be treated. Someone who has heard you and seen you and made you feel loved and valued. Offer them a blessing.

• Now let us offer our silent blessings to this community, blessings for those those who have found their practice here and those who are still searching for their place to practice love among us.
• We bless our ears, may they hear the needs and dreams of our own longings and those of our neighbor.
• We bless our eyes, may we see where we are called to create community and be brave enough to go, giving ourselves grace because love is a risk, being loving is hard work, and we are still practicing.
• We bless our mouths, remembering that none of us are mind readers and that we must speak our needs and dreams for them to be heard and met and honored.
• Finally, we bless our hands, knowing that communities can only grow if we are willing to reach towards each other in love. If you are willing, please lift your hands gently in front of you, extending your palms out into the room.  May our blessings radiate out, filling the room with our intentional practice of love, expressed in blessing. Amen.

 

As we come back together, I want to introduce our closing song.   One of the first things I noticed about the UCG Songbook was the inclusion of the song “The Rose”… hymn, really – it has 3 musically identical verses with no bridge or hook, a perfect hymn.  Anyways, you can’t hire a Broadway baby for a minister and have a Bette Midler standard in the songbook and not expect to sing it.  I have been waiting 2 and a half years for a service where it would fit – and if a service about practicing love on the week of Valentine’s Day isn’t it, I’m not sure what would be.   It’s a 1979 power ballad – yes, but the lyrics still speak to community.

The first season that I sang with the Orlando Gay Chorus, our 2013 spring show “Ready for Our Closeup” included all songs made famous by movies – The Rose was one of them.  I had never given the number much thought, but at tech rehearsal, the director spoke about the bravery of love, about a couple in the chorus that were celebrating 40 years of courageous love, love that wouldn’t able to be legally recognized by marriage for two more years.  A long, hard, but joyful road of love that for many years could only be celebrated in safe communities… and then more people began to share their experiences (those who were deeply lonely, some who had experienced deeply painful losses to disease, and also some that were incredibly joyful and full of hope), and this song became a catalyst for that gathered community taking time to practice love by holding safe space for one another.   It changed the meaning of this song for me.

Loving others and yourself is hard. It takes work, it takes risk, and it takes practice.  But with that practice, or at least being willing to show up to a community that has committed itself to that practice, you could be the seed, the sun, or the protective cover that allows love to grow tall enough, beautiful enough, and fragrant enough to change the world for someone else.  Or, you could be the comforting singing voice that someone associates with safety and community – something a lot like love. So, without further ado, let’s invite our inner divas to church, and sing about practicing love.