AISHA HAUSER, msw, cre-ml
Lead Ministry Team, Church of the Larger Fellowship
I have always had a strong personality and for much of my professional life, I took that to mean that I can be a “good leader.” In time and with many experiences of leadership throughout my life and in different contexts, I have come to realize that leadership is not about telling people “what to do” or “asserting authority.” Rather, true leadership is about modeling and collaboration.
When in a position of leadership, that person is more visible to more people and what the leader does and says is under more scrutiny than others in any given system.
Rev. Nadia Bolz-Weber is a Lutheran minister who has gained notoriety over the years for her progressive social views, while also being a devoted Christian and follower of the bible.
A few years ago, I attended a lecture she gave promoting one of her books and she began by talking about authenticity in leadership and how there is a lack of authentic leaders in the U.S. Bolz-Weber is almost six feet tall and has many visible tattoos. She is bold and unapologetic in how she asserts the teachings of Jesus, centering care for the under-resourced, underrepresented and targeted.
She told us that it is useless to try and hide some part of yourself when you are a faith leader, “Whatever you think you are hiding, people already know.” She was alluding to the fact that as a leader, you are always modeling and being true to yourself and others is the way to be a leader that people can and will trust.
It is hard to be both authentic and bold. In the age of social media, where people with any platform are scrutinized more than ever, it can be scary to show vulnerability and authenticity.
Even in the face of this, I assert it is important to model what it means to be true to the values and ideals you hold dear.
As a Unitarian Universalist, I have taken to heart the ways I can model what it means to center liberation, love and community care. I try to model what it means to move through the messiness of being human. I often share through my sermons and on the podcast The VUU, the ways I grapple with uncertainty, injustice and how to respond to the enormity of the ills in the world.
I almost never have any “answers,” what I do offer is what I think about and why. I offer the ways my UU faith informs how I imperfectly navigate the world. Perhaps the most important thing I do is show up authentically and with a heart full of love, grace and a determination to do what I can to bring about liberation in all I do.
January 2025
“No one is useless in this world who lightens the burdens of another.” —Charles Dickens
December 2024
“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” —W.B. Yeats
Rev. Dr. Michael Tino
Lead Ministry Team, Church of the LargerFellowship
“This being human is a guest house
Every morning is a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!”
— from “The Guest House,” by Coleman Barks, based on the original poem by Jallaludin Rumi
Around the world and for many thousands of years, humans of different cultures have created rituals of sympathetic magic intended to invoke unknown powers to act in our world. This kind of spiritual work asks us to make connections between objects and actions and the ways in which we want to affect the world.
In the northern hemisphere, it is winter now, and the farther north one goes, the shorter the days become at this time of year. Where I live in the northeastern United States, the darkest days of the year, clustered around the Winter Solstice, have just over nine hours of daylight in them, a full six hours less daylight than we enjoyed in June.
Our bodies feel that difference. For some of us, it is a welcome feeling of cozy darkness as the long nights wrap us like blankets. For others, it is a dreadful feeling of loss as the light dwindles and comes at sharper angles from a sun closer to the horizon.
And the sympathetic magic that many cultures from the farthest north places have developed to face the winter involves light. We adorn trees, festoon our houses, hang lanterns, and light bonfires. We welcome the fullness of the moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow. We bask in the warmth of the blazing Yule log (or the psychological warmth of its digital equivalent on our TV and computer screens).
The Christmas trees that became traditional in the United States began as pagan German celebrations, hung with dried fruits to capture the color and scent of summer and lighted softly with candles. Throughout the Northern Hemisphere, people are celebrating in ways that were designed by the ancients to convince the sun to be reborn, to return to us and give us light and warmth. And, lo and behold, it worked, every year.
And yet, we cannot escape the reality that many people greet the winter—and the many holidays celebrated at wintertime in order to bring cheer to this desolate season—with dread, with fear, and with a profound sadness that no amount of merry-twinkle lights can break. Our spiritual houses are too often visited at this time of year by the guests of grief and sadness, loneliness and fear.
Sometimes the role of the religious community is to inspire us to action. Sometimes, it’s to mark the important moments in the cycles of our life. And sometimes, religious community exists just to hold us together for a little while. Sometimes, we come together in community despite the unwelcome guests knocking at our doors. Sometimes, because of them.
We need the touchstone of community, the embrace of love, the practice of reverent stillness, in order to summon the courage to welcome in those guests. To welcome in the crowd of sorrows that persists in knocking on our door again and again, demanding a room for the night.
To welcome in those guests, though, goes against our nature. Rumi suggests to us that such guests have something to teach us if we sit with them a while. To welcome these guests in, however, doesn’t mean we have to resign ourselves to their permanent residence in our spare room. Listening to our pain and learning from it is not the same as letting it take us over.
We have to learn how to encourage these guests to move on when they’ve overstayed their welcome. Nature does this automatically. The darkness builds through the fall, and peaks at the Winter Solstice. And then the light returns. We can learn from nature, especially at the darkest time of the year.
But we have to do this work ourselves. There is no tilt to our axis that leans us away from the sun—and then towards it again as we revolve around it.
Luckily, we don’t have to do it alone.
We do it together, beloved. Together, we create winter magic. We sing, we light candles, we bear sacred witness to one another. May your life be filled with magic this winter.
Rev. Dr. Michael Tino
Lead Ministry Team, Church of the Larger Fellowship
The results of the 2024 U.S. Presidential Election have been devastating for many of us. The election of Donald Trump to a second term as President is more than worrying for all of us grounded in a commitment to love and liberation — we know that his fascist and authoritarian agenda threatens the lives and well-being of many of us and our beloveds. The following message was shared online by Rev. Dr. Michael Tino on the day after the election.
November 6, 2024
Beloveds,
I am trembling today with grief and fear. I am finding it hard to breathe, even as I force myself to focus on ways of breathing meant to calm my body. I hugged my child extra long this morning as she left for school—it was all I could do at that moment.
I am reminded again and again of my relative privilege right now. My BIPOC friends remind me that this is exactly who the United States has always been. It doesn’t make it easier. I am mourning a nation that has never really existed, and knowing that doesn’t make the grief less.
Perhaps you are feeling some of this, too. Please know that you are not alone.
At some point, we will figure out what we need to do next to protect those who are most vulnerable right now. At some point, we will be part of a movement to save the lives of those who are threatened by the fascist agenda that won the day in yesterday’s US elections. That doesn’t need to be today (even if we know it’s coming).
Right now, I am reminding myself that I am part of a faith grounded in love. A faith that always has been and always will be profoundly counter-cultural. I am leaning on my faith ancestors to guide me, and I am trusting that my faith community will rise to the challenge presented to us.
I invite you to pray with me (or center yourself, or meditate):
O love that will not let us go, remind us of your presence now.
Remind us of your power now.
Remind us of your tenacity now.
Fill us with your strength that we might know ourselves connected to a love greater than we can imagine.
For we will need that love as we move forward together. Amen.
Yours in faith,
Rev. Michael
November 2024
“We must take care of our families, wherever we find them.” —Elizabeth Gilbert
Christina Rivera
Lead Ministry Team, Church of the Larger Fellowship
Family is one of those topics that can be both celebrated and filled with tension. Sometimes at the same time! It can bring to mind images of parents, children, siblings—those bound by blood or marriage. And within a liberatory theology, family is something more. It can be a chosen, dynamic, and inclusive concept that welcomes all, just as we are. When we speak of family as Unitarian Universalists, we are called to expand our definition beyond the typical Western idea of family. We are called to understand that family is not something we have but something we build, together.
Western culture is generally considered to be an “I” culture. These cultures have characteristics in which the person is the center and include the idealized version of the nuclear family: mother, father, children. However, if we just scratch the surface of Western culture, we find the vast influences of the global Southern majority and our “We” cultures, in which the community is the center. A “We” culture includes chosen family, identity families, and community family. And while “We” culture is not as widely acknowledged; it is more widely practiced.
The exciting news is that our newly affirmed UU values centering Love, Justice, Equity, Transformation, Pluralism, Interdependence, and Generosity can help us in our framing of family. Family doesn’t have to be confined to those who share our DNA but rather, it can embrace those who share in the journey of life with us. In this sense, family is a covenant of love and support, a relationship defined by care, mutual respect, and shared commitment.
And in thinking about that covenant of love and looking at the “I” culture of family, we can see how it can feel limiting and sometimes even harmful. We must ask ourselves: what about those who don’t fit that mold? What about those who find their deepest sense of belonging in friendships, in chosen family, in their communities? What about family who have hurt us?
I think some of those questions can be answered if we look to the lessons from “We” culture. A culture in which family can be the person who sits beside you during difficult times, the neighbor who cares for your children when you’re in need, or the community that rallies around you in times of celebration or sorrow. These relationships are just as sacred, just as valuable, as those bound by biology.
In fact, they may be more intentional and powerful precisely because they are chosen. And they have the added benefit of being able to ask harmful people to move away from community for the time it takes for them to heal and take responsibility for actions. This isn’t a shunning, but rather in the best practice of family, accompanied by non-affected individuals, the person doing harm can have support while they seek to address the issues which led them to harm.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that “We” cultures have it all figured out and that everything is perfect and rosy. Harm still happens, conflict still exists. But still — no one is thrown away. No one is beyond the hope of God’s love. We simply understand that we don’t need to participate in harm by saying, “oh, that person is family so that’s why they get to keep doing what they do and hurting people.” Rather we say, “you need some time out of community with some folks who can help you heal so that you don’t continue to harm others.” It doesn’t always work, and that is the beauty of our UU commitment to covenant. We can keep practicing so that we do better the next time.
At its heart, family—whether born or chosen—is a covenant. It is a promise to care for one another, to show up when it’s hard, to forgive, and to grow together. As a UU community, we strive to model this kind of covenant at the CLF. We strive to be a place where individuals find the family they may not have experienced in their own lives. It is within these sacred spaces that we nurture one another, celebrate milestones, and bear witness to life’s sorrows and challenges. Our Unitarian Universalist values challenge us to constantly examine and dismantle systems of oppression that prevent people from forming families in ways that reflect their truth. Whether it’s advocating for marriage equality, defending reproductive rights, naming the ongoing genocide in Gaza, or ensuring access to healthcare and childcare, we are called to create a world where every family can thrive. We must continually ask ourselves: Who is the “We” we are talking about and centering? Who is being left out? How can we do better?
In my own life, I have found that family is not something that has stayed exactly the same from season to season. It is one that changes and requires constant attention, love, and patience. We never get it 100% right, we are always asking for grace.
In the end, family, like justice, is love made visible. It is the place where we practice our Unitarian Universalist values, where we learn what it means to live in covenant with one another. Whether through birth, choice, or circumstance, we are all called to create and nurture families that reflect the beauty of our shared humanity. And in doing so, we honor that divine spark of the holy which is within each of us and live into the beloved community that is at the heart of our faith. So say we all and amen.
AISHA HAUSER
Lead Ministry Team, Church of the Larger Fellowship
One of the most impactful trips I have ever been on in my life was with a friend to Olympic National Park in Washington State, specifically the Ancient Forest, an area that dates back to pre-contact, when only the indigenous people lived and thrived on this land, before the arrival of European settlers.
We were completely cut off from any of the digital and online life we were living. Being this off the grid took a bit of getting used to, however I quickly found something shifting in my physical body and my emotional state.
I felt calmer and inching closer to feeling relaxed. I hadn’t fully appreciated that there is a different kind of relaxation one feels when fully unplugged from anyone who isn’t in your physical presence.
Going into the ancient forest helped ground me while paradoxically allowing me to become more expansive at the same time.
Old growth and ancient grown forest ground contains layers upon layers of flora and fauna. In fact, the word “flora” means goddess in Latin. How fitting that divinity is part of the naming of these natural and sacred living entities.
The quiet of the forest is not silent. There is the rustling of the trees, the sound of a stream, birds chirping and the muffled sounds of our feet along the forest floor.
I felt myself release tension as I walked.
I placed my palms on the trees, leaning on them for comfort and solace.
It was truly a cleansing experience, a forest bath.
According to the National Geographic website:
The term emerged in Japan in the 1980s as a physiological and psychological exercise called shinrin-yoku (“forest bathing” or “taking in the forest atmosphere”). The purpose was twofold: to offer an eco-antidote to tech-boom burnout and to inspire residents to reconnect with and protect the country’s forests.
While the term ‘forest bathing’ may be relatively recent, humans have found ways to heal and cleanse while communing with nature throughout millenia.
Jesus prayed at the foot of olive trees in the Garden of Gethsemane.
The Bodhi tree also known as the Wisdom Tree is believed to be where the Buddha found enlightenment.
Integral to Pagan practices are communing with nature often among the trees.
While I did not find enlightenment during my time in the ancient forest, what I did find was a deeper connection to myself and the earth.
October 2024
“The land is the real teacher. All we need as students is mindfulness.” —Robin Wall Kimmerer
Rev. Dr. Michael Tino
Lead Ministry Team, Church of the Larger Fellowship
Recently, I’ve heard more and more people wondering what is the place of covenant and accountability in Unitarian Universalism. In some circles, they have become almost dirty words–signs that we are somehow abandoning the individualist faith that so many people mistakenly think we are. And yet, both of these concepts are central to our faith.
Covenant consists of the sacred promises we make to one another. It is not a fixed set of beliefs, but rather a living understanding of how we are in community together. Covenants define the practices of Unitarian Universalism as well as what we are striving to create together.
As a faith movement, our congregations are bound to each other in covenant. That covenant is expressed in Article 2 of the Unitarian Universalist Association by-laws. It lives there because covenants and by-laws, unlike creeds, are meant to be changeable. As our understanding of our faith deepens, as our understanding of our world develops, and as the circle of our faith widens to welcome in those who have too long been marginalized, we must adapt the promises that hold us together.
And so it is that our covenant has been updated recently. Rather than simply asking our congregations to “affirm and promote” principles (a phrase that I came to see as the faith analog of the meaningless phrase “thoughts and prayers”), our new covenant asks us to engage in specific actions to live our faith in the world. It asks us to understand power, how it is abused to lead to oppression and exploitation, and to actively work to dismantle those things in our world. It asks us to commit to changing, growing, and repairing damaged relationships. It asks us to create fully accessible and inclusive communities, and to embrace our differences as we learn from one another.
These are good promises, solid promises that, if we keep them, will help us center our faith in love and live from the values we claim: justice, equity, transformation, pluralism, interdependence, and generosity.
But what if we don’t keep our promises?
That’s where accountability comes in.
In 1646, the congregations in the New England colonies brought delegates together to discuss how they would be governed. The 1648 Cambridge Platform has served since then as the basis for what we call “congregational polity,” the way in which Unitarian Universalist congregations still come together. Even in 1648, congregations realized that one of their responsibilities to each other was to be able to hold each other accountable to the practices and ideals of their faith.
How this happens has changed a lot since 1648, but it has not ceased to be part of the relationship among congregations. We are collectively responsible for the covenant of our faith. And so, we have to be collectively responsible for asking our sibling UUs to be accountable to that covenant.
Accountability does not mean punishment, nor does it mean banishment, like so many people seem to fear. It does mean that we are allowed to ask each other to do better. It means that we are allowed to point out when each others’ actions fall short of the values we claim. Yes, it might mean that we are going to have to get used to giving and receiving constructive, loving criticism.
For too long, our faith has been mired in a hyper-individualism that is good for no one. We are not the faith where, as some claim, one can believe or do whatever one wants to. We are instead a faith where we proudly center our interdependence with one another, a faith that insists that none of us are in this alone.
In the back of our hymnal is an uncredited (anonymous) reading that blesses us with these words: “May we know once again that we are not isolated beings, but connected, in mystery and miracle, to the universe, to this community, and to
each other.”
To these words, I add this: May our connection to each other be grounded in covenant. May it be a connection of mutual accountability and growth. May it be a connection that helps us all live with love at the center of our lives.
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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.