Good morning and welcome to everyone here this morning, especially to any visitors. My name is Alison Miller and I am proud to be a part of a small cross section of our denomination, people who joined the church at around the same time they gained the right to vote. As a life-long Unitarian Universalist, it is wrapped in the blanket of our faith that I grew up learning what a loving, liberating experience it can be to have a spiritual identity. Growing up at All Souls I learned that church is a place where friends come together to exchange ideas about moral or philosophical questions, to gain and give each other support, to have fun together and to experience the delight of dessert before lunch. In my case, this was in the form of Entenmann's coffeecake.
One of my peers' and my fondest memories from church school were the chapels delivered by our Director of Religious Education, Mary-Ella Holst. I feel very fortunate to have experienced Mary-Ella's chapels as my first worship model: although they were shorter than services in what was known by us as "the Big Church," all of the essential elements were in tact. There were hymns, the Bond of Union, an offertory, prayer, some squirming, and best of all captivating ethical lessons told through her simple and eloquent stories-her chapels left us with food for thought and wanting more. In many ways Mary-Ella was my first minister and deserves the credit for increasing my interest in Unitarian Universalism as a youngster. As many of you know, I have been working over the last couple of years at All Souls and at large to figure out how to keep our youth and young adults involved and one of the major stumbling blocks seems to be worship. Many youth don't have the experience of worship growing up in other UU congregations or are over-exposed to lengthy tirades in other faiths, and not surprisingly, they have trouble relating to Sunday Services as adults. With my chapel or "little church" experiences as a base it was easy to transition as an adult to the fuller, spiritual experience of Wally's often breathtaking musical selections and Forrest's powerful and artfully crafted sermons.
It is a shame that more young adults don't successfully transition to experience worship as adults, since the sanctuary is one place where the search for responses to moral and philosophical questions is alive, including the most difficult ones. It is here where we gather for the inspiration and sustenance to carry us through both our personal and communal struggles. To muster the courage to answer, in the words of Alicia Carpenter, from our second hymn: "Just as long as I have breath, I must answer 'Yes,' to life; though with pain I made my way, still with hope I meet each day. If they ask what I did well, tell them I said, 'Yes,' to life."
As liberal religious people, we don't come to church to celebrate the beauty of what might be waiting for us in the hereafter. I believe, instead we come to engage in thought about the present-to reflect upon the wonderful mysteries and miracles of life, as well as the issues that are troublesome or unfair in our individual lives or the larger community. We summon our hearts to examine the truth and courage to keep our eyes open.
It is often difficult for Unitarian Universalists to define themselves as people of faith, but I contend that we are, and that this is in no way in conflict with our desire to be guided by reason. First of all, let's look at our first principle "the inherent worth and dignity of every person." Our Universalist forbears disagreed with the Calvinist notion of some people born destined to go to hell and with the doctrine of original sin. Faith is defined as a firm belief in something for which there is no proof or a belief that does not rest on logical proof or material evidence. There is certainly no way to concretely prove whether or not there is a hell or that we are all born without sin. True, common sense may dictate that newborns seem like unlikely containers of sin-still there is no material proof. Yet, we do make this leap of faith and believe that all human life is inherently worthy.
In many ways, our whole religion is based on faith, defined as a confident belief in the truth, value, and trustworthiness of a person, idea or thing. So much so, that we place very limited constraints around what to believe, upholding our principle of the "free and responsible search for truth and meaning." We trust individuals absolutely to choose what is right for them, guided by their own conscience, and do not fear the outcome.
Trust is an enormous part of faith. Inherent in the need to trust is the implication that the outcome or answer is unsure or unclear. It implies that being a faithful person, you trust in something that has the power to affirm or to disappoint. Unitarian Universalists have faith in or place our trust in many things with such power, including ourselves, our loved ones, the community, science, for some a higher power or guiding force within and without, and for some God. Faith in the beloved community enables us as a collective to believe in not only the vision of a just world, but also the hope that we might take part in its creation-when we leap together anything is possible.
Just look at our history as a religion that believes in its ability to effect social change both within our walls and beyond: the suffragettes, the abolitionists, and those involved in early public health works. Earlier this month at Concentric, the annual Young Adult business, networking and leadership conference inspired by early leapers like Elizabeth Cady Stanton and bold enough to open our eyes to the work still needed to be done. We were able to begin to vision and create the structures and policies for a new movement in our midst (Since 1998 this conference has tripled in size). Grounded in the knowledge that our efforts, be they social justice struggles, like anti-racism, or creating resources for diverse, inclusive forms of worship that all of our energy will somehow be an agent of positive transformation. We have faith that our work to change the Young Adult community in turn will impact local congregations and our movement as a whole. And we are-All Souls at Sundown led by Galen this fall will be an exciting addition to our worship-but I must tell you that the idea sprang from worship created to attract a more intergenerational crowd developed by a young adult, Rev. Marlin Lavanhar, in Boston.
Let me turn back to within our walls though and address faith not as a community, but more on an individual level. Congregations provide a safe space for us to confront the pain and truths of our own everyday lives; a safe space to face our fears and the healing power of love to bring us hope.
My adolescence was filled with some of life's bigger hurdles, and I learned firsthand about the importance of believing in something for which there is no proof, in fact even when evidence might indicate the opposite. In 1991 at sixteen years of age I was diagnosed with anaplastic high-grade fibrosarcoma, a rare connective tissue cancer that seldom leaves survivors in its wake. To be more specific statistics at the time, somewhat sketchy due to the small sample pool, indicated about ninety-five percent did not make it into remission and even fewer become long term survivors. As you can imagine, a flood of unsettling questions quickly erupted forth. Having lost my father and grandfather in the preceding two years, I was beginning to wonder if, for some reason, I was being specifically targeted. Why had this happened? Was I not worth living as long as my friends? If there was a god with control over my fate, he/she was seemingly a cruel or neglectful force. What could I gain from this experience? What hope could I cling to?
The cancer was at a very advanced stage. I had a fast growing tumor in my left forearm and the cancer cells had metastasized; they had spread to the lung. To make matters worse, the recommended protocol or plan of treatment was known to be unsuccessful, so my mother and I went on a search to find doctors willing to come up with something new, willing to take a risk on a potentially successful, but untried plan. It was an instance when knowledge, science, and the intelligence of the best doctors could only result in a best guess. We took our leap with a tiny, but powerful woman and guesser, Dr. Wollner, at Memorial Sloan Kettering, and I underwent a combination of surgery, internal radiation, external radiation, and a couple of chemotherapies.
Every time I walked into that building for another round of treatment I had to overcome an intense wave of fear and the desire to jump off the radiation table or pull out the IV sending the poison coursing through my veins. Could I really trust that all these toxins would not kill me faster than the cancer itself? It felt like the cancer and I were racing in a maze - my mission was to find the right path and to get there first. It was natural to be afraid, we fear things that we don't understand or don't know the outcome of, most of all when the outcome could be fatal.
Faith can be a kind of antidote to such fear - hoping that the outcome will be favorable or at least trusting that some good will be born out of the bad. It is hope combined with the love of friends and family that empowered me to believe and to withstand the painful journey towards healing. All Souls was an incredible support, especially the youth group, which provided a safe space for me to begin to express and deal emotionally with some of what was going on. The group even met in the pediatric ward a couple of times during the course of my treatments.
This story is also an example of the community having faith to mobilize and make a difference. That summer, like every summer, blood donors drop off as people are away on vacation, leaving the hospitals with shortages. Patients wind up receiving sometimes as little as half the amount of blood products as the doctors' request, which severely lowers the ability to recuperate. Congregants who believed they could help came forward to donate in my name, a pricetess ano precious gift without which I would not be here.
Some of you may be feeling uncomfortable or sad by this story, but trust in the concept of good coming out of bad, in the power of hope and in the fact that I am present to recount the tale. The pediatric ward at Sloan was a horrible and awesome place where I learned so much about living; no child, when feeling even remotely well, stopped playing or loving. I close my eyes and I can see the little ones having tricycle races in the hallways, with parents untangling IV poles and trying to keep up, the older ones in the teen room laughing over a game of pictionary or discussing our passions and dreams for the future. It was there, I experienced first hand the possibility of deep connections made across socioeconomic, racial and religious boundaries. The families on that floor, all of us united in a common struggle, regardless of our backgrounds. Exposed and vulnerable we all experienced the humbling highs and lows of being confronted by our mortality.
I remember a group of four mothers, including my own, who went up to the hospital roof for an evening ritual where they spilled out their troubles over a bottle of wine, as each one toasted their trust and faith over to best guesses and something greater-recognizing that for once they could not shield us from harm. I have unshakable faith in the potential healing power of such love. It is interesting to note the four children of the women in this modified, interfaith prayer circle have all made it to adulthood, not unscathed, but all alive.
All of the healing energy that lies in the prayers of mothers, or said in Catholic masses, or Jewish Synagogues, and Unitarian Universalist congregations...the wishes expressed in cards, mint jelly beans and ice cream brought by visitors, carefully sliced peaches and Gatorade slush prepared by my mother. All that energy in the form of love and faith that I could get better lifts and moves the spirit & makes a difference. Lest you think logic or reason has been suspended, it makes sense, in the same way that forms of meditation and massage are recognized for their power to boost the immune system. Stress, imposed by illness and harsh treatments, decreases the body's resistance and positive inputs of energy, while things that bring you relaxation or joy increase it.
Sometimes faith is allowing the space for the impossible to happen. Allowing random luck, traditional or alternative medicine, prayer, or a combination of all to work their magic. It's difficult to know what makes a difference and we must be guided by what feels right to the individual. There is no message here about a right answer because that is not the point. Amazing, awe-inspiring patients at Sloan followed their conscience and for unknown reasons didn't survive.
For a long time, my treatments appeared to be unsuccessful as the tumor in my arm kept growing back. Amputation, more chemotherapy, all sorts of remedies were being tossed about. With an incredible amount of support and perhaps, a streak of stubbornness, I remained faithful or hopeful. Then one day after receiving mixed donor platelets, I had a horrifying allergic reaction, including vigorous chills and a fever up to 108 degrees, which lasted for quite some time. The code cart was in my room, along with all of the floor nurses-complete hysteria. All the while I was making delirious jokes about spending my life shaking in a rocking chair. It's all hazy; you'll have to ask my mom. Humor is definitely another one of those positive things that I recommend should you need to summon the strength to make a leap and overcome odds.
After that crazy fever I was declared in remission and miraculously didn't suffer brain damage. A fever is the body's natural response to stimulate the immune system to function more productively to fight infection and foreign bodies. All I know is that the cancer cells were either cooked or my immune system finally recognized what it had to do. The scans taken before the fever showed new growth and after showed nothing, and there were no treatments in between. It is not alone that this fever worked-all of the aforementioned treatments had severely weakened and shrunk the amount of cancer cells in my body-but somehow my immune system uncovered the exit in the maze and got out first.
People often think that I must have extra courage to endure such an experience, but I knew there was a chance. That and trust (even in the face of proof indicating the contrary) helped me leap and love helped to break my fall.
The question of proof such as material evidence as a measure for success or as a measure of a leap worth taking is one I've had to address again a fair amount recently. It is eight years later and I have new visions guided by faith calling me. It is my aspiration, through ordained ministry, to serve my community and other communities as an advocate, a guide, a source of comfort, and even for inspiration.
Several of my well-meaning friends have had a hard time accepting my decision to choose divinity school over medical school. After all it would be much easier to measure accomplishments in terms of making X number of patients well. How do you concretely measure the effect of taking a part in a collective action for justice, holding someone's hand during times of grief, delivering a sermon, and celebrating life's joyful moments? I will be honest, if I allowed this fear to make my choice it would have been different.
Instead I summon my trust in the communities that I have worked with as an advisor or counselor, in my efforts to create alternative and traditional forms of worship, organizing community action, and organizing fun. It is the community at All Souls and the wider Unitarian Universalist communities including our youth and young adults who have empowered me to make the choice of minister and renewed faith that together we can make some dreams a reality.
I have a shared vision with several others in our denomination of a truly intergenerational presence in our congregations. We struggle to keep our adolescents involved and the 18 -35 year age range is tiny or non-existent in many churches. Over the past couple of years I have been serving the youth and young adults in our congregation and at large to work towards a more inclusive Unitarian Universalism with a place for a younger perspective, where we can both honor our history and allow the space for new traditions.
In the fall of 1998 I was asked to be an advisor to the High School Seminar, the powerful group that had given me so much support during my adolescence. The group was disaffected and struggling; it was a space imbued with peer pressure. The youth had lost sight of their connection to the larger congregation, to our history and to Unitarian Universalist principles. It was an incredible, frustrating, and wonderful challenge helping a floundering group foster a vision of what it could become and partnering with the youth to see this through. The group is now a safe space where adolescents can support one another, discuss sensitive themes, and have fun.
One afternoon after coming down from the tower, I began to wonder what all of my peers who had grown up at All Souls were doing at that moment. I looked around coffee hour and realized that there were a sparse number of people around my age. What was the point in building up programming for youth, only to lose them four years later? Some Young Adults would come to the service, but none seemed willing to brave the sea of unfamiliar faces at coffee hour. Something was keeping them from getting involved in congregational life.
Was it true, as I had heard several of my friends say "that there was nothing offered for them there" referring not only to Unitarian Universalist Churches, but other denominations as well. All religions struggle with the visible absence of the twenty-somethings. A great gap exists between youth and adults. Young Adults add an essential ingredient to help communities flourish. They bring youthful idealism tempered by life's experience, energy and an ability to facilitate the bridging of our youth into the adult life of a congregation. I can attest to the hard work it is to reach out to my generation, but I and others have faith that we are making strides and will be able to have rich and intergenerational threads of perspective from which to weave our community's fabric. The young adult community at All Souls today is taking root and taking flight. We meet at least three times a month for worship & social events & can often be found gathering in Friendship hall on Sundays for brunch. Young Adults are involved both in and out of the pews: volunteering in our feeding programs, with our scouts, on committees, on staff. The dream is becoming a reality: a supportive, fun, spiritual, service-oriented intergenerational community.
All Souls youth and young adults are also having an impact at large: one of our graduating seniors, Elizabeth Martin, was the youth caucus business manager at the General Assembly this past June; Amy Strano is the new metro-district young adult representative; Scott Will is a district board member; and I am currently serving on the continental steering committee for Young Adults.
The leaps of faith that we take as a community or as individuals do not necessarily lead us away from suffering or strife and they often lead us towards hard work, but they are the risks that enable us to grow, to heal, and to struggle for something better.
"Just as long as I have breath, I must answer 'Yes,'to life; though with pain I made my way, still with hope I meet each day. If they ask what I did well, tell them I said, 'Yes,'to life."
Life is a precious gift, sometimes random and unfair. But each one of us is graced to experience wonder, to uncover mysteries, to have second chances, to choose what is right for us, to love and let go, to be brave enough to risk and, finally, to say "yes" to the leaps which make us whole. Copyright AllSouls 2000.