If you had to name just a few values that are essential to Unitarian Universalism, what would you come up with? Here is one answer: Equity; Interdependence; Generosity; Justice; Growth; Diversity–and above all, Love. 

This week I attended a feedback session, hosted by the committee that is working on revising the current statement of principles and sources. For 90 minutes I discussed this draft of UU values with about two dozen other UU’s from across the country. This feedback session was the latest step in a process that’s been going on for a couple of years now. Realizing that a revision to the 1987 version of the 7 principles and 6 sources document was long overdue, the Unitarian Universalist Association has had a group working on this revision for a while now. They have received feedback already; they have hosted sessions at General Assembly to discuss their work; they plan to have a final proposal ready for an initial vote next summer.

In doing this revision, the committee wisely decided to put everything on the table. The new statement of UU values might not be in the form of “principles and sources” that has become so familiar. The gathered voice of Unitarian Universalism, as expressed through voting at General Assembly, charged this committee with centering Love in their work. They have done just that.

In the feedback session I attended Sunday, the committee asked for our feedback on the expression of UU values as a simple diagram. The diagram had LOVE in the center. Then around that central value, like spokes in a wheel, were the other values: Equity; Interdependence; Generosity; Justice; Growth; Diversity. Many people in the feedback session responded favorably overall; some of us brought up things that might be missing: Democracy; Environmentalism; Spiritual Seeking.

One thing in the discussion struck me that I want to lift up: gratitude for the process itself. In our religion, Unitarian Universalism, the statement of our core values is revised, and discussed, and deliberated upon, by a committee with input from the larger body of Unitarian Universalists. We get a say in this. We get to respond to the draft and get our feedback to the committee…and ultimately we get to vote. It is a messy and deliberate and slow and imperfect process–because it is democratic. And because the task–how to sum up Unitarian Universalism in a few concise words or statements–is a challenging one. The process is very UU, and I think the ultimate outcome will be very UU.

In order to follow this process more closely, including upcoming chances to offer your own feedback, please look for “Article 2 Study Commission” on the UUA website:
https://www.uua.org/uuagovernance/committees/article-ii-study-commission/blog/draft-feedback

PRAYER:
God / Light Within / Deepest Human Wisdom / Infinite Sky / Mother Earth…
…May all seekers be blessed. May we be blessed in our stumbling, in our finding and doubting our way and finding again. 

May the community of seekers be blessed, as we strive to understand together what is Good, what is Right, what is True, what is Worthy.

Amen. Blessed Be.

Rev. Andrew Frantz

Since moving into my house a year and a half ago, I’ve had a squirrel problem. Many times, squirrels could clearly be heard in the ceiling above my bedroom–seemingly romping and running and rolling nuts around. It took three exterminators to finally solve the problem, and during this time I had a real war mind-set. Killing the squirrels was part of the intervention, and I was OK with that.

Finally the squirrels seem to be gone from the walls and ceilings of my house. In the yard and garden, however, they are still abundant. I see sleek black squirrels, small red squirrels, and large gray squirrels up and down the tree that is their home and food source; they leave shells of nuts all over my porch and stairs; they dig little holes all throughout my garden.

My main feeling lately has been relief (no more squirrels in the house) mixed with annoyance (squirrels messing up my yard), and my murderous antagonism toward the squirrels was fading away slowly. Then something happened a few days ago that made me embrace the squirrels more fully. I was standing in my kitchen looking out the window. A gray/brown squirrel was there in the grass, on its hind legs, with a large nut in its front paws. It was chewing and turning the nut, chewing and turning–its jaws and teeth moving really fast with tiny but forceful motions tearing the husk of the nut, little pieces flying all around. My heart softened as I looked at the little beast and noticed how human the gestures of the front paws were. And then the squirrel cocked its head and looked straight at me. Our eyes met and locked for a long moment, and I felt appreciation for and connection with the squirrel. In that moment I released the hatred I had been holding for squirrels, which included wishing them dead. I felt freer.

Dealing with the squirrels in the garden is not simple, and I will still get angry and frustrated when they destroy one of my plants. But there is a deeper acceptance along with that anger and frustration–it is part of coexisting with other living beings, like the anger and frustration I get from coexisting with other human beings from time to time.

There is a story of a meditation center where people would meditate on benches near a pond, and there was a problem with turtles from the pond nipping at the feet of people when they were trying to meditate. A turtle expert was consulted and asked, “Can you do something about these turtles?” He studied the situation and came back with his conclusion: No, it was best for the turtles to remain in their habitat and it was best for the people meditating to learn to cope with turtles occasionally nipping at their feet.

PRAYER:
May turtles and humans and squirrels be blessed, each blessed by the creator, the mysterious Giver of Life, each blessed to live their life in the way that they know is right. 

May I find my place in the harmony of the universe, my steps in the Great Dance, my voice in the Great Choir.

May my yard, my neighborhood, my city, be home to many living creatures.

May it be so.

Rev. Andrew Frantz

Last weekend I went with two friends to Conkle’s Hollow in the Hocking Hills of Ohio. “This place is sacred,” I said to my companions as we started on the trail.

The path at Conkle’s Hollow is flat and goes alongside a stream bed into a deep wooded valley. The first section is lighter with wildflowers and sunshine; the next section is shady with ferns growing everywhere as one begins to glimpse the rock cliffs on both sides. At one point, a few boulders as big as a car are in the streambed, covered with green moss. Looking up, you can imagine how they tumbled down from the rocky wall above. Now they contain the majesty of silence and stillness that defines this place.

This trail is so popular (and so flat) that it is paved in concrete for most of the way: a sidewalk into the deep wooded hollow. In the last section, however, the pavement ends and the trail becomes rock and sand, the shallow stream now underfoot as the walls of the canyon get higher and closer. At around this point, the three of us are passed by a party of children: we count nine young ones with two dads. The girls are all dressed in long skirts and the boys in shorts or pants. The kids are allowed to race ahead while the dads bring up the rear to make sure none are lost.

“That’s the strategy I would use.” I say to my friends, “Keep the kids in front. This is a dead end and you’re not going to lose any kids up the walls of these cliffs.”

Soon we come to the end of the trail: the valley ends in a shallow pool of water where water falls at the head of the canyon from 80 feet up. This is August, so the waterfall and the stream are very low. Caves in the rock walls are cool and mysterious. The air itself is cooler and wetter than the other parts of the path. The children scamper and run while the dads watch. They splash through the shallow water in sandals and sneakers. I find a spot where water trickles from above and step into it, wetting my hair. My friend takes a moment of silent prayer beneath these droplets of water, a gift from above. I remark that the waterfall feels like the divine above (the masculine principle, Father Sky) and the green valley feels like the divine below (the feminine principle, Mother Earth).

The shouts and laughter of the children accentuate the holy silence of the place, everyone blessed by water, earth, sky, and one another.

PRAYER:
May all be blessed by streams, by friendship, by the delightful presence of children playing.

May every public park, every waterway, every path and every sidewalk be a place for people to greet one another in friendship and peace, knowing that we all share this one green earth and one common humanity.

Blessed be.

Rev. Andrew Frantz

Last week I attended the annual conference of the Association of Unitarian Universalist Music Ministries (AUUMM). For three days at the First UU Congregation of Ann Arbor, 150 UU musicians worshipped together, sang together, and shared ideas and expertise and inspiration.
 
I attended because music is so important in my life and in my ministry, and because I believe that music moves the spirit as much as any other part of what we do in our worship service. Most of the attendees at this conference were music directors, choir directors, and pianists at their UU congregations—not “ministers” by title. And they clearly see their work as a ministry: providing moving music that ministers to the needs of the congregation; and creating meaningful communal space in small musical groups such as choirs.
 
UU music professionals have not always received the recognition and appreciation that they deserve. I was honored to be among some amazingly talented and sensitive people at this conference, ones who rightly have a place among the most important leaders of Unitarian Universalism today: Dr. Glenn Thomas Rideout; Francisco Ruiz; Jen Heyman; Amanda Thomas.
 
Two moments at the retreat were especially memorable. One occurred as part of morning worship on Friday, a service dedicated to the memories of AUUMM members who have passed away. The choir sang a piece that included a litany of their names. Every name of every AUUMM member who has died was sung, feelingly, by a soloist as part of this remarkable piece of music. After each name, the choir and the congregation sang the words “you are not forgotten.” It was incredibly moving and I sat there thinking – this is the perfect tribute to a musician who has passed away: to have their name incorporated into a beautiful piece of music, sung aloud by a gathering of their beloved fellow musicians.
 
The second amazing moment from the retreat was the Song Circle workshop. The workshop began with the leader (Francisco Ruiz) having the participants breathe together, then hum together, then sing in cacophony, and then sing in tune with the people around us. The workshop culminated when he divided the singers into groups, taught each group a part, and improvised a song on the spot. Because of the care and intentionality of building trust and community as we made music together, the result was an ecstatic connection of creating something beautiful out of thin air.
 
PRAYER:
God of singing and of breathing; God of harmony and collaboration: bless the musicians who give their time, energy and talent to Unitarian Universalist gatherings every week.
 
May music bless the whole world with no exceptions. May everyone know the music within them and hear the music of those around them.
 
Blessed be.
 
Rev. Drew Frantz