as preached November 3, 2024 at the First Unitarian Universalist Church of Houston
Tuesday is election day. It has been a tradition, as far back as I can recall, for Unitarian Universalist ministers to offer words of encouragement and modest prayers on such occasions. We hold democratic practice as a central religious value. It is one we particularly lift up during presidential races.
We will get to such matters shortly. Before we do, I have two pieces of electoral housekeeping.
First, I want to encourage you to vote. We have set a goal of 100% voter participation for our members and friends. At the risk of provoking discomfort, I want to invite you to turn to your neighbor and ask them, “Neighbor, have you voted?” “Neighbor, do you have a voting plan?” We are going to give you about ninety seconds for that conversation. Then Cathy is going to ring the bell to call us back together.
If you do not yet have a plan to vote, do not despair! After the service, our Voting Justice Team in Channing Hall can help you formulate one for Tuesday. If you need help getting to the polls, or you do not know where your nearest polling place is, they can give you a hand. If you are watching online, you can call our office at 713.526.5200 anytime between now and Tuesday.
In the past I have shared with you Raphael Warnock’s perspective on voting. He says, “a vote is a kind of prayer for the kind of world we desire for ourselves and our children.” First Unitarian Universalist wants to make sure that all of our members and friends are empowered to offer up that kind of prayer!
Here we get to the second bit of electoral housekeeping. On Thursday, I got data from our Voting Justice Team about the results of our voter empowerment ministry–which sometimes gets called UU the Vote or souls to the polls–thus far. It is nothing short of phenomenal. Let us celebrate our work so far: total number of volunteers engaged, 253; number of volunteer hours, 2,572; postcards sent, 9,910; voter registrations, 956; number of phone calls placed in Harris County, 39,072; number of doors knocked, 1,519; and number of direct voter touches, 31,113. Can I get a Hallelujah?
All of that is before this past weekend’s push. It is an incredible effort for a congregation our size. Actually, it is an incredible effort for a congregation of just about any size. Almost a thousand voter registrations? More than 30,000 direct voter touches? These are the kind of numbers that can help sway an election. Get I get another Hallelujah? Better than a Hallelujah, First Unitarian Universalist let us give ourselves a standing ovation. That is the kind of effort that shows just how seriously we take democracy as a religious practice.
Democracy as a religious practice, maybe after those celebratory statistics you do not need words of encouragement or modest prayers. You might just be hearing a Kendrick Lamar lyric:
We gon’ be alright,
Do you hear me, do you feel me? We gon’ be alright
I am not quite there. I am not in a celebratory mood. Maybe this is because I have been accused of being a doom and gloom preacher. Maybe it is because part of my role is to take a cold hard stare at the world and tell you what I see. And maybe it is simply because we are on the knife’s edge. The election could go either way. No matter who wins, we are in for hard times.
The poet W. H. Auden named the era immediately following the second world war as the Age of Anxiety. In many ways, it was a period not unlike our own. The geopolitical order was shifting. A monster was in control of Russia. Totalitarianism was a global threat. In the United States, the Left was in the crosshairs of a supposedly patriotic–but truthfully anti-labor, anti-woman, anti-LGBTQ, and white supremacist–Right. People without homes, the stateless, sometimes called migrants or refugees, desperately sought safe places to live. Borders were closed. Violence erupted.
“[E]verybody … [was] reduced to … [an] anxious status … [and] even the most prudent … [became] worshippers of chance,” Auden wrote.
Even the most prudent became worshippers of chance, it is probably not a bad description of the way that some of us–myself included–try to calm our nerves by looking at election forecasts and polling results.
Anxiety so often hinges upon the unknown. It peaks when we become focused on what could happen, rather than what is. What is, well, we can figure out how to adjust to it. We have to. What might be, that is something of another matter. The scenarios play out in our minds. They can become all consuming.
Lately, I have been wrapped up in more than just the anxiety of the election or the existential anxiety of these times. Our boys are high school seniors. We are in the season of college applications. Friday was the deadline for Early Decision I. And well, there is little that brings out parental anxiety like college applications.
Are their academic profiles sufficient to get them into their first-choice schools? What about their second-choice schools? Will they have options? What kind of financial aid will they get? How can anyone afford college these days? Are they ready to go off on their own? Have we done enough to prepare them? Will they remember to do their laundry? Will they clean their toilets? Will they just leave a pile of dishes in the sink? Do they even know how to feed themselves? Are these kids even together enough to be adults? What if this happens? What if that happens? What if? What if?
The college application process does not bring on a lot of sleep. But like a lot of other things in our Age of Anxiety, I have learned to calm myself by embracing three lessons: most things are beyond my control; I have done what I can to prepare; and I can make new plans.
Most things are beyond my control. I have done what I can. I can make new plans. I am going to briefly share how I am applying these lessons to the task of lessening my own parental anxiety. Then I am going to suggest how we, as a religious community, might apply them to congregational life.
First lesson, I have done what I can. We are not perfect parents. I can get too absorbed in my work. I can be impatient. We have our flaws. But, we have done what we can to prepare the boys for life. We have encouraged them in school. I have read essays and helped a bit with math and science. We have helped them find other people–including members of this congregation–to tutor them when we cannot. Whatever happens during the college application process, and afterwards, I take comfort in knowing that I did my part.
Second lesson, most things are beyond my control. I think that the boys put together strong applications for their Early Decision I schools. Will they get in? That is going to depend on who else is applying. College admission officers worry more about the profile of the overall class they are creating than any one individual application. Maybe this school got a lot of applicants from Houston this year. Maybe that one got very few. These items matter. And so, do things like the time of day that admission officers look at a particular application. Is the officer doing the initial reading through of application hungry? Did he sleep last night? Has she read so many applications today that she just wants to be done with the process? These little things can be decisive in determining whose application gets put in the no pile and whose gets placed in the yes pile. Part of lessening anxiety is recognizing that we only have so much control over our own destinies.
Third lesson, I can make new plans. If the boys do not get into their Early Decision I schools they can apply to other schools. If they need to improve their test scores there is still an opportunity to take the ACT and the SAT. Or maybe take a gap year and do something like AmeriCorps? There are actually a lot of options. I make myself anxious when I get hung up on a single outcome. They are smart kids. I suspect that they will eventually figure it out.
Doing what we can, recognizing that things are beyond our control, making new plans, these lessons can be applied broadly during this Age of Anxiety.
As a congregation, we have been engaging in the tumult and the strife of the hour through our voting justice ministry. Over 250 volunteers, almost a thousand voter registrations, more than 30,000 direct voter contacts, whomever wins of Tuesday, First Unitarian Universalist’s members and friends should know that we have done what we can.
In doing what we can, there is the added bonus of knowing that community organizing–collective action–is a bit like working out. The more you go to the gym the more muscle you build. The more we organize the better we get at organizing–the more organizing muscle we create. This prepares us well for whatever will follow the election. We already know how to mobilize people. That will make a difference in what is to come.
Recognizing that things are beyond our control, Karl reminded us of this during our special music earlier. He told us we are “victims of the times.”
First Unitarian Universalist’s near heroic voting justice efforts are only going to have so much impact on the election. No matter who wins the presidential election, we will still live in a state governed by neo-Confederates who favor the politics of cruelty.
No matter who wins, the sense of hope that is found in Elizabeth Alexander’s inaugural poem for Barack Obama seems permanently out of place. I can imagine a poem being penned that begins:
Each day we go about our business,
walking past each other, catching each other’s
eyes or not, about to speak or speaking.
But it is hard for me to conceive of one that concludes:
In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air,
any thing can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp,
praise song for walking forward in that light.
Praise song for walking forward in that light, it feels like we are beyond such hope now. I suspect that we are living, permanently, in the state that Thomas McGrath named in his poem: “the end of the world: in which we live forever.” On one side of the ballot lies what the philosopher John Clark has labelled the party of denial. On the other side is what he terms the party of disavowal.
The party of denial, this political grouping denies the reality of the climate catastrophe. They claim it is the result of natural forces. Some even state that events like Hurricane Milton have been caused by weather manipulation on the part of the federal government targeting supporters of the Republican Party.
The denial does not just stop there. It continues with a denial they are white supremacists. The rallies that evoke the 1930s, the rhetoric that echoes the Nazis, the calls to shoot political opponents, we are told that it is all taken out of context.
The party of disavowal, well, they refuse to admit their responsibility for fostering the circumstances that have created the current mess. The climate policies that they have enacted when they have had the power to legislate have been too little and too late to stop the coming catastrophe. If we end up with a neo-Confederate in the White House–see me after the service for why I do not like the word fascist–then Attorney General Merrick Garland will be greatly to blame. He refused to prosecute the instigator of January 6th for the first year he was in office. He did not to want to appear partisan.
The party of denial, the party of disavowal, I doubt we can change either of them. I am skeptical that we can escape being victims of the times. But, at the same time, I have faith that we can adjust no matter which who wins on Tuesday.
So, as we move towards the close, let me suggest three ways we can pivot whatever the outcome. They might help you live beyond hope and manage your anxiety. They help me manage mine. They are spirituality, solidarity, and salvaging.
Spirituality, First Unitarian Universalist is a religious community. Our spiritual practices, individual and collective, can help ground us and adapt. In the coming days you might try reciting a portion of Reinhold Niebuhr’s famous serenity prayer:
… [G]rant me the serenity
to accept the things
I cannot change,
Courage to change the
things I can, and the
wisdom to know the difference.
You might take refuge in an existing spiritual practice or explore a new one. Our resident yoga guru Vince is holding a special yoga class here on Tuesday evening at 7:00 p.m. for anyone who needs to get out of their head–pause the anxiety–and into their body on election night. The day after the election we are opening our campus for coffee and fellowship in the morning and a special vigil for democracy in the evening. We will have song, silence, readings, and candle light. We might well have a visit from the spirit and leave feeling a bit more whole.
Solidarity, if you are here this morning or you are joining us online, know that you do not have to go through what is to come alone. When we join together in community we have a better chance of surviving and even thriving. In a forest, it is well known that trees that entwine their roots together do better than those that grow on their own. Our networks make us stronger. No matter what happens, we can work to expand, to grow, to strengthen them.
Salvaging, leaning into and lifting up those parts of our religious tradition that give life and promote love. For it is love, as the Unitarian Universalist theologian Rebecca Parker has said, that “builds communities of inclusiveness and friendship that break the barriers of oppressive social norms.” Love is the only force strong enough to counter violence. Violence separates. Love binds together. Love creates and sustains communities of resistance. Few people survive brutal regimes by themselves. As scholars of the Holocaust have repeatedly argued, the more isolated an individual was the less likely it was that they remained alive. The more connections they had the greater chance they had of surviving. Love has the power to create communities where isolation is vanquished.
Spirituality, solidarity, salvaging, in this Age of Anxiety, three ways to adapt no matter what may come. So, let us continue to do what we can. Let us recognize that much is beyond our control. And let us remember that even in the face of the uncontrollable we still have the power to change, to pivot, to adapt.
I invite you to close with a brief prayer.
Spirit of love and life,
known by many names,
moving through us now
as I speak,
bless us in the coming days,
in this era of anxiety,
with three gifts:
the commitment to do what we can,
the clarity to recognize what is beyond our control,
and the flexibility to transform ourselves
as the world around us changes.
May it be so,
Blessed Be,
and Amen.
