“The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart.”
—Albert Camus
Sisyphus was a Greek god famous for his trickery and deceit. When he died he was condemned by the gods to roll an enormous rock to the top of a mountain every day for all eternity. Every day he would roll it up the mountain and then the rock would roll back down to the bottom.
Albert Camus likened Sisyphus to an absurd hero; because he knows what will happen after the rock is rolled to the top, yet he remains content in doing so. What the gods intended as punishment, Sisyphus does not see as such.
Our faith teaches us that we are seekers. There are no definitive answers. There is no correct path. In this way, our faith demands a lot from us. Our faith does not give us a savior, we must find our own.
The same is true of mental illness. It is a journey. There are no definitive answers. There is no correct path. Our illnesses demand a lot from us. There are no universally guaranteed medications or treatments; we must find what works for us.
“Caregiving is a defining moral practice. It is a practice of empathic imagination, responsibility, witnessing and solidarity with those in great need. It is a moral practice that makes caregivers, and at times even the care receivers, more present, and thereby more fully human.”
—Dr. Arthur Kleinman, Harvard Medical School Professor and primary caregiver for his wife, Joan
Based on what we know about Alzheimer’s disease and the observations we may make with “eyes to see but do not see” and “ears to hear but do not hear,” we could erroneously conclude that the potential and purpose of persons with Alzheimer’s is all used up. In order to discover their potential and purpose, we must look at them with the “fresh” eyes of one who is looking for the holy. Then, it is up to us—those who know and love persons with Alzheimer’s—to reveal their value so the rest of the world can also see and appreciate them.
“Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor.”
—Romans 12:9-10 (NRSV)
In his letter to the new Christian church in Rome, Paul advises a community struggling to maintain positive and loving relationships following a period of upheaval. His words resound through the ages as an admonition to treat each other with respect and affection, to honor one another.
As Unitarian Universalists we take this advice seriously. As a community of faith we covenant to honor each other even in disagreement and to recognize the inherent worth and dignity of every person.
In a relationship that includes one partner exerting undue power and control over the other, these admonitions and shared wisdom seem to be distant dreams. One party is habitually dishonored and the other loses a piece of humanity by terrorizing the other with threats and, too often, real violence.
“A new baby is an amazing miracle, radiating promise, evoking some of the most intense feelings of love. And at the same time…completely exhausting.”
We welcome new babies into our communities with rituals and ceremonies. We dedicate ourselves, as parents, family, and church members, to helping to raise this child to feel valued, loved, and able to fulfill their potential. Rather than seeing them as tainted by original sin, we see them as whole and beautiful, just as they are.
They are human, though, and just at the beginning of their becoming. They are, as the behaviorists say, “developmentally appropriate.” Which means incredibly needy, unable to adequately communicate, and completely dependent on their parents. Especially at 3 am.
“I have heard it said that illness is an attempt to escape the truth. I suspect it is actually an attempt to embody the whole truth, to remember all of ourselves. For illness is not something that happens to us, like a sudden sneeze or a passing storm; it is a part of who we are all the time.”
—Kat Duff, The Alchemy of Illness
When we become ill, we discover what it means to be a human “being” as opposed to a human “doing.” There can be extraordinary guilt when we realize all the things we assume about ourselves when we are healthy are no longer true. Whether it is a temporary set-back (when recovery is likely) or a chronic condition (which can only be managed, not cured) illness challenges us to see ourselves in a new light and to accept our humanness.
“You don’t have to see where you’re going, you don’t have to see your destination or everything you will pass along the way. You just have to see two or three feet ahead of you.”
—Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life
What do we want for our children? There is no one answer for all of us, and our individual answers likely change as we watch a child change and grow into a person with particular wants and needs.
But at a very basic level, I believe there are some things most of us would agree we want for our children—love and happiness, perhaps, are a good place to start. Sure, we know that no life escapes heartbreak or sorrow, but our hope is that the scales will tip in the direction of love and happiness.
“As our faith expands, we can find new, more complex ways of perceiving the unknowable.”
For many of us, it proves impossible to limit religious thought to a narrow creed. The more we learn, the more difficult it becomes to restrict ourselves to the definition of ultimate reality, or God, that we grew up with, or held when we were young. James Fowler writes about this in Stages of Faith: The Psychology of Human Development and the Quest for Meaning. But as we progress through different stages of faith development, we may find that certain concepts we felt we had outgrown still hold meaning for us. One of these concepts may be “God.”
We Unitarian Universalists…are mosaic makers. We piece together truths from world religions, science, poetry, and personal experience to create a whole. We believe revelation is not sealed. New truth can be revealed in every moment. Each person contributes their unique piece to the mosaic of community. Out of our broken pieces, together we create beauty.
—Rev. Bill Hamilton-Holway
Our Unitarian Universalist faith embraces and celebrates diversity. Our principles declare that every person has inherent worth and dignity and all of us are part of an interdependent web of life.
But for those of us who live in multiracial families, this ideal of diversity meets the messiness of putting it into practice in our homes, both our family homes and our spiritual homes.
Our culture rewards those who wear an ever-positive attitude. But sometimes, what is honest and right is to express our hurt and anger…to admit “this stinks!”
Optimism is often held up as a cardinal virtue. No matter the situation, we feel we should be plucky, searching for that silver lining, and courageous. With lips trembling, we bravely say, “I’m not going to have a pity party.” We stiffen our shoulders and brace for a hit, a plastic smile on our faces.
Yet the religious faith of Unitarian Universalism is based on authenticity. We encourage people to be their genuine selves in our churches, rather than mouthing things they don’t believe, or pretending to be something other than what they are.
“There is beauty in the struggle.”
—Brandi Carlisle
Our Universalist tradition teaches that we are all children of God, regardless of the particulars of our human condition. The love of the divine—or the acceptance of the universe, if you prefer—comes to us unconditionally, for better and worse, in strength and in weakness, in health and in illness.
In our theological landscape, illness, including mental illness, is nothing for which an individual should be blamed or shamed. No blame or shame for our human condition. There is great assurance and comfort in that.
But doesn’t our theology hold a fuller revelation?
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Quest for Meaning is a program of the Church of the Larger Fellowship (CLF).
As a Unitarian Universalist congregation with no geographical boundary, the CLF creates global spiritual community, rooted in profound love, which cultivates wonder, imagination, and the courage to act.