I offer today this sermon, delivered about fifteen times (so far) to congregations around the US - and I offer it today both for expediency (it’s been a hard week here) and as pastoral response to the unkindness and prickliness I am seeing around our congregations and across social media.
I bet many of you grew up watching Mister Rogers Neighborhood – or showed it to your children as they were growing up. I was born at just the right time – I was 4 when it first appeared on our local PBS station – the perfect age for this unique show. And paired with Sesame Street, which came out at the same time, this little white girl from a little mountain town in upstate New York was suddenly learning about suburbs and cities, counting and spelling (in both English and Spanish), what other people looked like, what it meant to use our imagination, and what it meant to be a neighbor.
I was reminded of this gentle Presbyterian minister from Pittsburgh and his powerful work when I watched the documentary Won’t You Be My Neighbor that came out a few years ago, and it struck me how important it was for us to hear these messages in the wake of the King assassination, in the midst of the Vietnam war, in the restlessness of the country – things I as a small child knew nothing about except that things seemed wrong and some of my schoolmates’ dads never came home.
I don’t think it’s a mistake that this documentary, and 2019’s A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, starring Tom Hanks, resonate so deeply. The lessons Mr. Rogers was teaching us – and is still teaching us – help ground us when we feel utterly ungrounded. They are there for the taking – these things that Unitarian minister Robert Fulghum also reminded us that we learned in Kindergarten – how to be kind and how to share, and how to forgive, and how to take care of ourselves and each other.
And we need these reminders. Too often, I fear, we get so caught up in the hustle and bustle – and lately, the existential anxiety and very real sustained stress and trauma – that we forget to pay attention to others. We forget that while we are the lead characters in our own stories, we are but bit players and maybe just background extras in the stories of other people. It’s no wonder Mr. Rogers Neighborhood continues to be so important. The ministry of Rogers focused on teaching children - and adults - how to live out the assertion that we have inherent worth and dignity just by being human, and how we are all worth care and consideration.
And while I don’t know this for a fact, Rogers’ faithful Christianity leads me to suspect that the grounding for at least some of those lessons comes from a sometimes difficult but ultimately helpful text from the Letter to the Ephesians. I say difficult, because the writer uses the metaphor of a marriage to explain his point – and here’s where that pesky “wives, be subject to your husbands” things shows up. Yeah. I know. Much like Abbey Bartlet in The West Wing, I skip over that part. But what he’s really getting at – and states at the beginning and end of this passage is simply this: “be subject to one another.”
Now for those not familiar with the biblical text, this epistle (or letter) to the church in Ephesus, is one of many written in the name of Paul of Tarsus, carrying on the ministry of someone who planted these Jesus churches around the Mediterranean. By this time, Paul has this collection of churches he has planted and now stewards, like a regional consultant does. And well… let’s not kid ourselves. People 2,000 years ago were much like people today, and any time you get a bunch of people collected in any kind of organization, eventually there will be unrest and misbehavior. Especially when they’re collected around a mission, or a vision, or a belief.
What I have realized is that these epistles aren’t so much sacred text as swift kicks in their collective keisters. Over and over again, Paul is telling them to remember what holds you together, stop with the holier than thou attitude, and really, just stop being bad! This one to the Ephesians is no different. My hunch is that there was a lot of conflict and infighting there, so this letter is very much reminding everyone to get along with one another. Especially since the figure they’re centering their organization around – Jesus – is most assuredly not keen on people treating each other with disrespect.
In other words, this isn’t so much about a particular belief or connection to a particular god, it’s about you, and it’s about me, which means it’s about us.
What we are talking about is seeing one another as family – as the people we devote our last measure of affection to. It’s how we are seen, and cared for, and thought of.
This is calling us back to our best selves. It’s about how we treat one another, the people we have known for months, years, decades. The people we work side by side with on committees and events and projects. The people we celebrate with and mourn with. The people who delight us and annoy us and whom we consider family. The people who we see, care for, think of – and hope receive the same in return.
Now I know that people don’t always get along well all the time – especially when there are decades of history. I remember meeting some long time members of a congregation I once served…. In one afternoon, I was to meet Dorothy, who had been a member for about 40 years, and then later with Caroline, who had been a member for about … 40 years. Both women had served as president, on various committees, taught religious education – they’d done it all. In my conversation with Dorothy, I learned about the seven year span that she and Caroline hadn’t talked to one another because Caroline had done something she deemed terrible, but at some point they forgot about it and while they still argue a lot, they’re talking again. A few hours later, I learned from Caroline about how she and Dorothy hadn’t talked for about seven years because Dorothy had done something she deemed terrible, but at some point they forgot about it and while they still argue a lot, they’re mostly talking again and mostly not talking trash about each other.
My point – and I do have one – is that many of you have similar stories. We sometimes speak without thinking because ‘these people know me and I can say anything around them and it doesn’t matter.’
But it does. And the way we treat each other and speak to each other can cause long-held grudges and hard rifts. We assume there’s a level of trust, forgetting that trust needs to constantly be built and tended. I wonder if Caroline and Dorothy could have avoided the seven year silence if they’d thought about how they were seeing each other and celebrating their differences, speaking to each other with curiosity and openness, and being subject to each other – or if they’d realize what had happened and made an effort to call one another back into covenant. I wonder what happens when we do.
This stuff matters, because if we don’t get it right inside our walls, we have no hope of getting it right outside our walls. Because being subject to one another is about family, and friends, and fellow members of your congregation, but this is also about others outside our immediate scope – right now, it’s about the care we’re showing others by staying home, protecting ourselves, and protecting others in order to stop the spread of the virus. This is about how we treat strangers. This is about how we treat one another with our policies and our laws. This is how we affirm and promote justice, equity, and compassion.
Now let me be clear. Being subject to one another is not about being subservient, as some might want to interpret that Ephesians text – this is not about an imbalance of power – or at least it shouldn’t be. Rather, it is about attention. Simply being attentive to one another. Supporting one another. Being kind to one another.
And kindness does make a difference.
I’m not talking about being nice – nice is wishy washy. It rolls over. It doesn’t want to offend.
Nice is complacent. Nice says comfort is more important than goodness, ease more valued than doing what’s right.
Blech.
Kindness – now kindness is strong, and active. Kindness sees a need and offers to help. In this time of pandemic, Kindness wears masks and gets vaccinated. Kindness thinks about the most vulnerable when planning for reopening our buildings and continuing online ministries. Kindness speaks up and speaks out. Kindness makes sure everyone’s taken care of, included, valued. Kindness is an act of justice – whether building ramps, or protesting police brutality, or changing classist policies, or calling for land and water protections, or any of the other things we do to affirm and promote all of us in this interdependent web as sacred and worthy.
And kindness means sometimes shifting how we do things. It calls us to shed perfectionism. Welcome new ideas as a gift, not a challenge. Embrace complexity. Embrace discomfort on the way to something better. Take responsibility. Truly listen to and value each other’s experiences. Be thoughtful and caring in our words and actions. Take our time with what we say and do.
We are called to be kind. Kindness is how we celebrate each other’s rich lives and our tapestry of differences. It is how live into covenant with one another, how we act as Fred Rogers taught us to act, how the writer of Ephesians wants us to act.
You see, there’s a reason the writer of Ephesians uses a marriage as his metaphor for being subject to one another. He’s not just talking about affection for others but understanding that when all is said and done, we’re all part of one family, one body. And when we begin to understand that, we let go of our rugged individualism and embrace care as the organizing principle of society – care that is creative and tenacious, relentless and wholesome, abundant and kind. The kind of fierce love that helped us survive the pain, loss, and heartbreak of the pandemic. The kind of fierce love that will help us navigate the current landscape of horrific destruction in Gaza - compounded by war, violence, and discrimination across the world. Where this love is the uncompromising foundation of our society.
Here is where it starts. Here. Love. Kindness. Care. Covenant. When we come together, all seeking the same things and supporting one another, and making room for mistakes and learning and growing into harmony together. Being truly in covenant with one another. Being subject to one another. And it starts here – in our covenanted community. We have to get it right or we stay small and ineffective partners in drawing the circle wide.
We are subject to one another when we stop building walls and start building bridges. We are subject to one another when we work for equal rights and equal pay and safety and clean water and accessibility for everyone. We are subject to one another when we join our forces together – remembering Margaret Mead’s words to “never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed it’s the only thing that ever has.”
Be subject to one another, pleads the writer of Ephesians. And Mr. Rogers. And every religious path worth its salt. And our commitment to covenant as Unitarian Universalists… which is a promise to be subject to one another, to be kind to one another, and to forgive one another.
We know this stuff. We learned it as children. And it’s what drew us to the life-saving message of Unitarian Universalism in the first place. We just need to remember… to notice each other’s needs and seize the moment to act. To be willing to be uncomfortable in service to something greater than ourselves. To give of ourselves out of love and care and compassion. To be truly kind to one another. To think before we speak, and speak with openness and generosity. To answer the call of our principles and our morals and ethics and our faith.
Let us be subject to one another.
Thank you, Kimberley, for this amazing sermon. So simple and so essential a message, yet one we need to hear again and again.