“When I move from struggle and control to observation and wonder, I begin to learn.”
 
I found these words in one of the wisdom books that I turn to for inspiration and grounding: “Native Wisdom for White Minds” by Anne Wilson Schaef. The author frames this concept around nature and gardening: she tells about fighting a fast-growing “weed” on her property, only to realize that it was serving a useful function.
 
Where am I experiencing struggle? What am I trying to control in my life? How might I re-frame these things through the lens of observation and wonder? I would invite all of us to consider these questions.
 
For me, two things come up that I am trying to control—and feeling the struggle of doing so. Both are negative: systemic racism and the global pandemic. Really big things! Can observation and wonder contribute to my anti-racist work? Yes, if I seek to notice racism and white supremacy: in myself, in my close circle, my wider community, and society at large. Noticing means opening my eyes to the racist attitudes and behaviors that are the water I’m swimming in. And then, I can begin to learn.
 
I am struggling with this pandemic also, and wishing I had some control. I suppose that an attitude of wonder might mean leaning into this moment. This is an unprecedented moment of confronting a common natural enemy, which affords the opportunity to come together in common purpose, common action, and common compassion. I am optimistic that new federal leadership and the promise of a vaccine in 2021 will allow us to pull together for a difficult winter of isolation. It will take all of our spiritual discipline and all of the loving community we can muster to succeed. And we will learn a lot in doing so.
 
In thinking about these things and my attitude towards them, another piece of wisdom comes to mind: the Serenity Prayer.
 
Prayer:
May we have the serenity to accept the things we cannot change,
the courage to change the things we can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.
 
May it be so.
 
Rev. Andrew Frantz

I have a difficult relationship with Veteran’s Day because I have been a pacifist for my whole life. My parents were part of the Church of the Brethren, a pacifist denomination; I went to Quaker meeting as a teenager and marched with my mother in protest of nuclear weapons. The role models in my family were not soldiers but conscientious objectors.
 
There is a strain of pacifist thought that blames soldiers for the existence and perpetuation of war, but I don’t buy into that. Technically it is true that without soldiers there would be no war—“What if they held a war and nobody came?” reads the classic protest sign. But I say that we can honor soldiers while condemning war itself.
 
Many soldiers serve in the military through a pure sense of duty and honor, loving their country and its values seeking to protect it. Other soldiers are lured into service because the promise of decent pay is higher than their other options. All of these people deserve respect and gratitude for their service and the risks they take. And, I believe that our Unitarian Universalist principle of “The goal of world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all” calls us to reduce the military, not to increase it.
 
The tension between honoring military veterans and seeking to end war altogether is present in Unitarian Universalism, including among ministers. At General Assembly this past summer, the moderator made strong anti-military comments that offended some UU’s in the audience. Among UU ministers, some serve as military chaplains as their calling—choosing this instead of serving in a congregation or a hospital chaplain position. They train and deploy with their troops--all the training except for bearing a weapon. They serve as spiritual advisors and support to their military units.
 
As I wrote last week in the wake of the election, I don’t see any American political party advocating an end to war. Allegiance to the military seems to be required in public life in this country. But I am fond of quoting Dwight Eisenhower, World War II general and later the president, who said that
 
Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed. This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children. This is not a way of life at all in any true sense. Under the clouds of war, it is humanity hanging on a cross of iron.
 
On this day, I honor those who serve and have served in the military. And I pledge to work for peace, both at home and abroad, creating a world where every nation’s army is small and its social services are huge.
 
Prayer:
Spirit of life and love, protect the troops of this nation, those training and those deployed around the world. Protect the troops of every nation, every one of them a child of God. May all the soldiers be well and safe.
 
May humans find our wisdom to see that war destroys and does not create. May the generals be wise and restrained. May the presidents, prime ministers, and leaders of the world resolve their differences at the conference table and not on the battlefield.
 
May it be so, for us and our children and our children’s children.
 
Amen.
 
Rev. Andrew Frantz
​

Today is the day after the election, and I woke up with new clarity.

Yesterday I spent the day near Detroit with Election Defenders, outside a polling place in Inkster supporting voters and watching out for voter intimidation. I was recruited and trained for this role through UU the Vote, who directed me to Election Defenders: a non-partisan, Black-led, multiracial organization. During my 8-hour shift I met four other Unitarian Universalists (from Ann Arbor and Traverse City), some ministers and some lay people, doing the same work. And I greeted dozens­—probably hundreds—of voters as they came and went from the polling place. I wore a clerical collar to indicate my clergy status and a bright yellow sweatshirt to indicate my affiliation with the non-partisan Election Defenders. It was a long and tiring day.

Before I even left home in the morning on election day, I was moved by a Facebook post from my friend Cindy (also a UU) doing similar work to what I was about to do. She was in Cudell Park, Cleveland—the place where Tamir Rice was shot and killed. The recreation center there is a polling place, and they were serving coffee and free breakfast to early voters. Cindy stood with a sign saying “Voter Assistance Here,” and the caption to her photo said, this is what democracy looks like.

We show up to make voting safe and smooth in neighborhoods where Black, Indigenous, People of Color are the majority of voters—voters whose rights have been suppressed. We show up because we believe in democracy as a human right and as one of our religious values as Unitarian Universalists. We who recognize our privilege seek to serve those who have less privilege.

It was a hard night listening to the election returns. This morning was better, but still bad. As I write, it looks like Trump will win Ohio by 8 percentage points and Biden will win Michigan by a fraction. Biden just may eke out a win in the electoral college. That matters….and it also matters that half of the voters in this country will have voted for Donald Trump. This, after four years of seeing his racism, his bullying, his lying, his selfish and destructive behavior.

This realization leads me to conclude what I must do in response: to hold what and whom I love more fiercely; and to work with greater dedication to create loving community. These are the antidotes, personally and socially, to the values represented by President Trump and by the many people who enable him. There is a clarity and hope in this realization: I can do what I can do. I don’t have control over national elections or public figures, or over the opinions of others, but I have control of my life and my work. As this election ends, the further work begins for love and justice and community.

Prayer:
Spirit of Life and love, God who blesses Maine and Oklahoma and Idaho and Texas, be with this nation today and show us the lessons of this election. Show us how to understand one another beyond the coarse language of voting; show us what our fellow Americans want and what they fear; what they know and what they grasp to understand.
 
May there be understanding and forgiveness, compassion and hope in Michigan and Ohio and California. May dialogue replace the shouting of slogans, may friendships be healed.
 
May it be so.
 
Rev. Andrew Frantz

The next time I write this weekly minister’s column will be the day after Election Day. I am reflecting now on how all-consuming this election can be, and on how to re-frame it in spiritual (not political) terms.
 
The news is the most obvious way to frame the election, but it is flawed in two important ways. I learned last week—ironically from an article in the news—that following the news closely is itself a partisan identity. I’m referring to an article called “The Real Divide in America is Between Political Junkies and Everyone Else.” (Yanna Krupnikov and John Barry Ryan, New York Times, Oct. 10, 2020). Surprisingly, there is a big political difference between Democrats who follow the news all the time and those who follow the news casually or not at all. They care about different things. There is a big difference between Republicans who follow the news all the time and those who don’t follow the news. The article also said that people who follow the news all the time, political junkies, are only 15-20% of Americans. So if I want a frame of reference for what this election is all about and what it means for me, following the news isn’t going to give me a complete picture.
 
Another example illustrates the difference between politics and spirituality. Donald Trump was diagnosed with COVID-19 a few weeks ago; members of Mike Pence’s staff caught the disease this week. In popular culture, this news is political: what does this reported sickness mean for campaigning, for voting, for public opinion? However, I would argue that a religious or spiritual perspective on this news would be compassionate concern. People are getting sick—in this case famous people, and people who are icons of a political movement. But seeing them as people first, and as politicians second, is what compassion calls us to do. If we ever wish suffering and death on any human being, our morality and religious values are in peril.
 
Finally, I am mindful that this election is one event in human history. It is certainly important, and feels like a turning point for the nation. Still, the issues that I believe in and fight for transcend this election. Equal rights and dignity for those who identify as LGBTQ; eradicating systemic racism in this country; eliminating poverty and hunger world-wide; an end to war. This is what I believe in. I don’t hear that as any candidate’s platform. I will support candidates who more closely align with those goals, but any election is just one event in these larger struggles.
 
Prayer:
Spirit of life and love, hear my prayer.
 
May all be safe in the election coming up. May voters be safe, may poll workers and poll watchers and poll monitors be safe. May all politicians be safe and healthy.
 
May we see this election as moment to voice our opinions and to use our power for greater love and justice in the world. And may we continue that struggle, before and after election day, every day of our lives.
 
May it be so.
 
Rev. Andrew Frantz

This week I had three encounters with nature that grounded and centered me. On Friday I walked in the woods at Chipp-a-Waters park. It was one of those October moments when the undergrowth was bright green and yellow, a blanket of color hovering above the forest floor; above the sunlight illuminated the many leaves remaining on the trees, green and yellow and some orange; and rustling underfoot the most gorgeous red and orange maple leaves. I stopped and took it in with gratitude.
 
On Monday morning I was out early. I got a cup of coffee at my favorite place on Broadway, then went to Island Park to enjoy it by the river. The wooden deck of the foot bridge was slick with frost. The air was so cold that I tried to keep my hands warm around my coffee cup, and wished for this first time this season that I had gloves. The Chippewa River was flowing fast and strong and clear.
 
And on Tuesday, back at the Chipp-a-Waters woods, I picked up two especially bright maple leaves, a larger red one and a smaller orange one. I love holding the prettiest leaves for a few moments and then letting them go. I have seen pictures of art work where an artist takes hundreds of colored leaves and creates patterns on rocks and tree trunks with them, wetting them with water to make them stick. The finished piece lasts only for a few hours. I took my two leaves to the bridge over the river and dropped them over the edge on the upstream side. I quickly walked across to the downstream side to wait for the leaves to float past. If you’ve read A. A. Milne, you’ll recognize that I was playing my own version of Pooh Sticks—Winnie the Pooh does this by himself or with a friend. You just need something that floats, a bridge, and a river. I waited a moment, wondering if my leaves would appear, and if I would I recognize them when they did. Then they did float by, the large one and the small one. Pooh Sticks is not a race, it’s a moment of awareness, of anticipation and trust. The river flows in its own time.
 
In this time that is filled with fear due to the pandemic, and filled with fear (and hope) due to the election, I am grateful to recall these moments of simple beauty that I was able to squeeze into my week. Autumn in the north is such a special time: the unexpected and unbelievable beauty of the trees changing color, and the cold reminding us that this beauty is fleeting. Bright fall colors don’t last very long. The autumn can bring a sadness for the summer that is fading, but sadness is not an evil emotion. Summer is beautiful and long, and has a stillness to it. Fall is beautiful and changing.
 
Prayer:
God of the river and the forest, Mother Earth and Father Sky; god of the Standing Nation of trees, blessed be the season with its change. Blessed be the children in school and the deer in the forest and the squirrels that hop and climb.
 
May we be in harmony with the rhythm of nature and of the seasons in the place where we live. May we learn wisdom and patience and awareness and hope from the lessons of the leaves and the flowing stream. May we be like clear water that flows, always changing and always the same.
 
Blessed be.
 
Rev. Andrew Frantz