I am a scientist -- not only by training, but also, I think, by natural inclination. This means that I tend to be led by my head and speak by my head, rather than by my heart. I had my topic picked out for this Sunday for some time, based on a book I read last summer called Rare Earth: Why Complex Life is Uncommon in the Universe. It's an interesting book. Perhaps some of you wish I had held to that topic, and I certainly would have been very comfortable speaking with you about it. But one of the many things I have learned over the past year as board president, is that it is very good for me on occasion to do something that I am not completely comfortable doing.
As a general rule, I don't think that speaking from the head is such a bad thing. However, I've learned that the one place I must speak from the heart is among family. When I was asked to run for the board over three years ago, I had to think it over for a while, since my youngest daughter was only 6 months old, and the two older ones were 3 and 5 years old. I seriously debated whether to take on the time commitment to be on the board, and have attempted these past three years to balance my responsibilities to the church with my responsibilities to them.
It has been a tremendous honor as well as a privilege to serve you these past three years, especially this year as your president. However, there have been many occasions when my children have asked "Are you going to a board meeting again tonight?" Many times they were asked to be quiet as I spoke on the phone at home regarding church business. And more than once they had to entertain themselves, sometimes for hours, while I had a meeting at the church (here's a little insider information: there's a terrific set of toys under Galen's sofa, and the checker set and art supplies in Melaney's office can't be beat). To atone somewhat for all of this, for them, today I have decided to speak from the heart.
Like so many other families, our last two summers have been enriched by the first four books in a projected series of seven about an English schoolboy with magical powers, named Harry Potter. I have read every one of them aloud to my children, and have also spent several nights after they were asleep, reading ahead to see what happens next! These books, written by J.K. Rowling, can be enjoyed on so many different levels that, in my opinion, they truly do transcend the label of "children's books" (regardless of what special list the New York Times invents to segregate them). On one level, they are a series of adventures; on another, a story of childhood friendship; on another, a description of what it means to grow up as an outsider, misunderstood by those assigned to take care of you; and on another, a version of the time-honored battle between good and evil. In addition, inventive words and phrases created by the author have begun to pass into the English language, as documented in a recent Wall Street Journal article.
Today I would like to share with you three magical items described in the Harry Potter series. They have all made me think about myself and my life in some way. But first, for those of you who may not have read the books (yet), I will provide a little background.
According to these stories, the world is mostly comprised of non-magical people like us (or, since I can only truly speak for myself, non-magical people like myself). Non-magical people are termed "muggles." A small subset of people do have magical powers, and the English children who are magical attend a special boarding school, named Hogwarts. Harry Potter's parents were killed when he was a year old by an evil wizard named Voldemort (who so frightens people that they generally do not even say his name aloud). Harry has been raised by his boorish muggle uncle and aunt, unloved and unwanted, and is surprised to find himself a celebrity when he arrives at Hogwarts school at age 10. It seems that, although Voldemort was successful in killing Harry's parents, somehow he was unable to seriously harm the infant Harry in the attempt those many years ago, and Voldemort's powers were nearly destroyed in the the effort. Harry's only testament to the attempt on his life is a scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightening bolt. Voldemort's struggle to regain power, and Harry's attempts to thwart him, form the most obvious arc in the storyline as the series of books progresses.
Although you might think that having a dangerous wizard wanting you dead would provide the most pressing theme for a young person's life, I believe that far more significant to Harry is his lack of a family. The people at Hogwarts over time become a kind of a family for him, and it is a great relief to him as he finds this place where he is not an outsider. However, the longing to know his parents is very deep. In the first reading from the initial book in the series, you heard of a time when Harry accidentally stumbled across a mirror that miraculously seemed to show him surrounded by his real family, including his parents. When I first read this passage, I found it tremendously moving. Harry has finally found a way to meet his parents, and even though seeing them reflected in a mirror is a somewhat cold and distant way to meet them, it is so significant to him that he rushes to bring his friend Ron to see his family. To his surprise, however, Ron sees something entirely different in the mirror -- he sees himself at some point in the future, about to graduate from the Hogwarts school with all kinds of sports and academic honors. Harry begins to realize that the mirror shows something different for each person who looks in it. In fact, it shows them their most deeply felt wish come true. Think of it -- what would the mirror of Eristad show you? Do most of us even know what our most deeply felt wish is?
As for me, I related strongly to Harry's vision. My mother died when I was 17, and every significant event in my adult life has been shadowed by the fact that my mother wasn't there to share it with me. I have felt this particularly strongly when it comes to my children. I think that if I could see into the mirror of Eristad, I would see myself with my mother, not as I was 20 years ago when we were last together, but as I am now. My children would be all over her, as they are when they sense a constant source of attention, and I would see in her smiling face the words I can never hear: "What good choices you've made with your life. I'm proud of you. You're a great mother." What would you see in that mirror? What does it say about you? What does it say about how you should live your life? Is there anything you can do to make your deepest, most heartfelt wish come true?
The mirror of Eristad is an interesting device, if an imaginary one. A second invention of J.K. Rowling's that I found intriguing was introduced in the latest book. Harry Potter's friend Hermione is a scholar, almost to the point of being obsessed with her classes. The dean at Hogwarts allows her to use a secret magical device called a "timeturner" so that she can take two classes that meet at the same time. She attends one class, take notes, uses the timeturner to reverse time one hour, and then attends and takes notes for the other class. My immediate thought when I read about this was that there is nothing that I need more than a timeturner. I could do the things I need to do -- work, bathe the kids, pay bills, fold laundry, even attend a board meeting -- and then use the timeturner and go back to regain that time to do the things I would really love to do but don't seem to have enough time to do -- read, go for a quiet walk, make music, play with the kids, go see a movie. Just think of it -- can anything be better than that?
Interestingly though, by the end of the book Hermione has decided to give back the timeturner. She concludes that it's actually better for her to make decisions and assign priorities regarding which classes are best for her, because too much accumulation of knowledge is cluttering her mind. This led me to rethink my need for a timeturner. I made two columns on a sheet of paper, and listed in one column things I do now, listing in another things I don't feel I have enough time to do but wish I could. I believe that it would be interesting and potentially useful at some point for all of us to do this. How many of the things that we do in the one column are really necessary? How many are done out of empty obligation or simple habit? How can we make the time for the things that are important to us? Like Hermione, we don't need a magical device (no matter how appealing the idea sounds); we need to assess our priorities and think of how we spend our time, rather than blindly stumbling through the same routine.
The second reading today described another magical device (and the last one I will talk about today) called a pensieve. The headmaster of Hogwarts school, Albus Dumbledore, has a cabinet in his office containing a bowl of shiny, almost mercurial fluid. When his mind is too full of thoughts and worries, he empties them into the pensieve; then, when he is ready, he sorts through them to discern patterns and sort out solutions. It seems to me that both of those processes are crucial -- we need to be able to clear our mind of worry when it is overwhelming, because too much worry leads us to be paralyzed into inaction. However, we also need a place and a time to sort through our issues, for denial or repression of issues or concerns means that we will never work through or move beyond them.
I personally find that worship services here at All Souls often serve as a kind of pensieve. When I am burdened by concerns I can let the music and peaceful surroundings of the sanctuary wash over me and I find relief, if only for an hour, from my problems. At other times when I need to sort through issues and come to a resolution, I can find the inner strength here to do so.
Why do we come here to All Souls for worship, when our religion does not "require" us to? I believe that we do in part because the process of worship does serve as a kind of pensieve -- washing away our obsessive worries (if just for a little while) and helping us organize and find structure for the issues we need to face. How fortunate we are to have this place.
I said at the beginning of this sermon that I have learned that one place it is not always appropriate to speak from the head is with family. Although I said that I would speak from the heart today for my daughters -- and I do -- I also speak from the heart for you, for you here at All Souls are also my family.
I've always felt that this was a special place. When I opened the service when running for the board, I spoke of falling in love at first sight (and sound) on my first visit here almost 12 years ago. Now not only do I believe that All Souls is a special place, I also see it as magical; perhaps not magical in same sense as the Hogwarts school -- but who is to say that there is only one kind of magic? Copyright AllSouls 2001.