“What I Can Do”
by Mary Oliver
 
The television has two instruments that control it.
I get confused.
The washer asks me, do you want regular or delicate?
Honestly, I just want clean.
Everything is like that.
I won’t even mention cell phones.
 
I can turn on the light of the lamp beside my chair
where a book is waiting, but that’s about it.
 
Oh yes, and I can strike a match and make fire.
 
This poem speaks to me today because it feels like everything is complicated. Computers, online shopping, Facebook, email. Complicated. The simplicity of a book seems old fashioned, although there were times in my life when that was the primary technology that I engaged with. Now, sad to say, I’m more likely to read things on my phone than to sit down and read a book.
 
Mary Oliver’s line about the washing machine makes me laugh. And her last line about making a fire is affirming. Reading a book may be simple, but fire is more simple still. Elemental. Watching a fire burn is the opposite of complicated. The poem’s title reminds me that this is my choice: I can keep engaging with my technology; I can keep engaging with a consumerist busy world of noise and stress--or I can make simpler choices.
 
I try to make time every day for spiritual practice: playing music, going for a walk, writing in my journal, or meditation. This is the antidote to the complicated world. Done mindfully, my spiritual practice grounds me in simplicity and reminds me of what is important. Like lighting a fire. Like reading a book.
 
PRAYER
God of Life and Love, Still Small Voice Within, hear my prayer.
 
May I take the time to listen in stillness. May I have the wisdom to turn off the cell phone and take a break from the computer and the radio, the car and the errands.
 
Divine One, I know that you are always there when I take time to see you, to hear you, to look within, to feel the breath, to hear the wind.
 
May simplicity bless me, and bless everyone. Amen.
 
Rev. Andrew Frantz

​About twenty years ago, I was part of CATSS (Community Action To Save Strays), a local catch-neuter-release program in the small town I was living in. CATSS would sometimes get called when a box of kittens was dumped in someone’s driveway. We would take in the newborn kittens, bottle feed them, and try to find them homes when they were old enough. At one time my partner and I had more than a dozen cats and kittens in our home…which wasn’t sustainable. And with two small children in the house and two cat-loving adults, we sometimes fell in love with the kittens and kept them…which wasn’t sustainable either. This is how I got Ruby and Alice.
 
When I divorced from my partner and moved out, we divided the furniture—and the cats. Ruby and Alice came with me to my new home. They moved with me three years later when I moved in with my new partner Mary…then they moved again a year after that, when Mary and I came to Michigan.
 
Alice disappeared a few months ago and never came back. Sometimes that’s how our relationship with a cat ends. They disappear.
 
Ruby died this week, and her end was more definite. After she didn’t show up for two meals in a row, I searched the house and finally found her under the couch. This was one of her secret sleeping places, except this time she never woke up. Sometimes that’s how our relationship with a cat ends. The cat’s time comes, the cat goes and lies down to die.
 
Ruby was a good cat and a loving companion to me for 19 years. Her death is a reminder that grief is the price we pay for love.

A year ago, in January 2020, the UU Fellowship of Central Michigan held its annual congregational retreat and decided that the social justice focus for the year would be on voting rights and the environment. A year later, where do we stand? Do we continue those two priorities? With the election over, does voting rights still make sense? In today’s world, are there different priorities we didn’t see a year ago?
 
My role as the Fellowship’s minister is not to tell the congregation how to organize your efforts, but to support you in doing so. My role is nourish the spirit of the congregation in its thirst for social justice; and to encourage the congregation to think and act from the place of moral and spiritual conviction: that every person is worthy; that all are interconnected; that we are obliged to serve justice with love.
 
I think we are all catching our breath after the inauguration of a new president. We are taking stock of the events of January 6 and what it means to have armed militias as part of the fabric of American society; and to have a large minority of the country brainwashed into believing crazy conspiracy theories. This is the new normal that we are grappling with, even as we glimpse that we have a chance to control the COVID 19 outbreak. We are in a moment of taking stock, seeing the world as it is now—and deciding what we are called to do in response.
 
Our social justice response to the world of 2021 will be rooted in love and in Unitarian Universalist principles. As the congregation discerns what that is, I will be ready to support and lead the efforts as best I can.
 
PRAYER
Spirit of Life and Love, Justice-loving God, hear this prayer.
 
The world is different from what we thought we knew. We see rioters and militia in Lansing and in Washington; we see QAnon conspiracists in congress.
 
The world is just as we have always known: people are decent and loving. People want to be safe and loved in their families and communities.
 
God of love and justice, help us to see both truths: that people are goo; and that people are dangerous when deceived, fearful, and hurt.
 
Spirit of Infinite Love, guide us into the work of greater justice with determination, compassion, and humility.
 
Aho. Amen.
 
Rev. Andrew Frantz

The congregation made a special vote last week to call me as a settled minister, an invitation which I gladly accepted on Sunday during the worship service. Although I have been serving the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Central Michigan as full-time minister for 17 months already, up until now my status was “contract minister.” The move to “settled minister” means that this is understood by both minister and congregation to be a long-term commitment. In employment terms, it’s like a college professor being granted tenure. In spiritual terms, here’s how the Unitarian Universalist Association defines settled ministry: The minister is understood to be a professional serving with the people of the congregation to further the purposes of the congregation’s ministries.
 
In other words, the spiritual health and well-being of the congregation, and the fulfillment of the congregation’s mission, are my responsibility in full partnership with every member and friend of the congregation.
 
Even though I had a good feeling that I would be staying, this official act makes it sink in much more deeply: I can settle into this work, and into my pastoral relationship with the congregation, much more fully. In the first year and a half you all have come to know me pretty well—the bad along with the good. I have come to know you pretty well—the strengths of the congregation along with the challenges. And I am getting to know the Mount Pleasant community pretty well–what it has to offer and what it needs from this Fellowship.
 
Now it is time to get down to work: the work of community, the work of mutual care and safety, the work of love and justice, the work of spiritual awakening and deepening. I’m excited for the future we will create together.
 
PRAYER
Spirit of Life and Love, bless the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Central Michigan. Bless every person who enters its doors and who join on its Zoom calls. Bless the founders and the early visionaries who created this Fellowship; bless those who sustained it through the years; and bless those who are its current members, friends, and visitors.
 
Bless those who served as spiritual leaders to this Fellowship over the years, whether they were called reverend, minister, worship leader, some other title—or no title at all, for true leaders need no title.
 
May the Fellowship thrive long past those of us who now serve it and call it home. May this living congregation be a light of truth, hope, love, and equity today and as far down the path as we can imagine.
 
May it be so.
 
Rev. Andrew Frantz

A month after the solstice, it now feels like winter has arrived with its cold and snow. I have started taking daily walks in the past week, rousing myself from a sedentary routine where I was not getting outside much or getting regular exercise. My walk usually takes me to the city parks by the river.
 
When I cross the river on a footbridge I stand and appreciate the water flowing below me. I’m amazed that the river flows so deep and strong at this time of year. One day this week I noticed that ice was beginning to form on the edge of the river, extending about three feet from the bank. Looking ahead on the path, I saw someone else also going for a walk, and as I watched he picked up some snow and threw it onto the ice. I thought he was trying to punch through the ice, but the snowball splattered on impact, sending snow exploding and skittering across the ice to disappear into the flowing water.
 
“That’s cool!” I said. It was so fun and beautiful that I had to try it. Like a little boy, I threw the snow again and again, hearing the smack of snow hitting ice, the skidding sound of snow sliding across ice, seeing the pattern of white snow on dark ice.
 
It is tempting to stay inside and warm during the cold and snowy days, but the reward of going out in the winter is precious. I bundle up, I walk briskly, and I try to take what is offered—beauty, serenity, or just a break in the routine of my time indoors. I’m grateful that I’m able to fit this into my day and that my body is able to do this. I’m grateful for the winter, the snow, the river, for my chance companions on the path, and for the joy of the little boy within.
 
PRAYER
Spirit of Winter, hear this prayer.
 
Spirit of the North, snowy owl, wisdom of the elders, be with me now. May I be open to the wisdom of winter.
 
May the simplicity of winter show us what we need to see,  a figure against the white background of snow.
 
The forest sleeps and we move through it alert and silent, like a hare. May we be alive to the wisdom of winter, within and without.
 
Blessed be.
 
Rev. Andrew Frantz
​

The human heart is the first home of democracy. It is where we embrace our questions. Can we be equitable? Can we be generous? Can we listen with our whole beings, not just our minds, and offer our attention rather than our opinions? And do we have enough resolve in our hearts to act courageously, relentlessly, without giving up—ever— trusting our fellow citizens to join with us in our determined pursuit of a living democracy?     ~Terry Tempest Williams
 
Today’s inauguration of President Joe Biden represents a sense of closure and relief, a sense of hope that saner times are ahead for the public life of this country, the space where civic and political discourse are held.

The quotation by Terry Tempest Williams above helps me to bridge the gap between politics and the spirit. Williams points out that it is a matter of the heart to live up to the ideals of democracy—which are also our Unitarian Universalist ideals: equity, generosity, deep listening. This is what we are called to do.

I know that many in our Fellowship will share the sense that today is a day of relief. I invite you to breathe deeply into that. Feel in your heart what is possible now. Feel in your heart the resolve to move forward with our religious ideals expressed in our personal circles, in our congregation, and out in the wider world.
​
PRAYER
God within us, divine love between us, light of mystery and wonder beyond us, hear this prayer.
 
May this day be a new beginning for all of us who share this land: indigenous original dwellers here; recent immigrants; citizens; refugees and visitors. May we see how better to share the land with one another; may we see that our destinies are tied together. May our path forward be one of healing the earth, healing one another and keeping safe from this deadly virus. May our path forward be one of greater equity and opportunity and inclusion for all, not just for the privileged and the powerful.
 
May we be reminded that democracy and community begin with the heart.
 
Blessed be.
 
Rev. Andrew Frantz

A week after the deadly riot in the nation’s capital, I am still struggling with how to react to it. I spoke on Sunday about the spiritual tasks of self-care and imagining the world we want to see –imagining the opposite of the violent, Trump-flag-waving mob that thronged the steps of the capitol building. I also said that we need to find ways to love and understand the people in the mob if we are to move forward. Since preaching those words on Sunday I’ve doubted myself—a response of love seems so weak and inappropriate here.
 
Then today in my email in-box came the weekly installment of “Braver/Wiser” from the UUA (it’s my favorite email and I encourage you to subscribe to it). My colleague Rev. Kristin Grassel Schmidt is clearly wrestling with the same thing I am, and I love her conclusion. She says,  

We may even need to say [to the Trump rioters] "I love you, but I will never agree to disagree on this. Truth is too important to set aside just because it challenges and upset you."
 
And then she continues,

While I don’t believe we’re called to seek unity with those who committed acts of insurrection and violence, we are absolutely called to continue affirming the fullness of their humanity. Wanting people to be held legally accountable for harmful behavior does not mean we can’t insist that society provide for their basic needs, just as it should provide for the basic needs of us all. Even the most despicable people are still human beings, and are deserving of care. Even those who have committed grievous acts have the capacity to grow, to learn, to experience a change of heart.
 
I echo Rev. Schmidt’s call for both love and accountability. This is tough love. This reminds me that love is not a weak response to crisis. Love is a fierce response. To hold onto being loving in the face of racist lies that incite an insurrection—this shows that we don’t answer hate with hate. We answer with love. Dr. King, whose memory we honor this month, had this figured out: both the hard spiritual work this requires and the absolute necessity of it. May we be equal to this challenge in these dangerous times.
 
PRAYER
Spirit of love, you are with me in every aspect of life. You are easy to recognize in the cuddling of my cat, the spark of connection with my children, the embrace of my beloved.
 
And you are there in the conflicts in my life: the challenging personal relationships I’ve had and the deep divisions over politics and ideology that confront me in the news every day. Your voice, spirit of love, reminds me what is right.
 
May I be as fierce in my loving in times of conflict, as I am gentle in times of harmony.
​May love make a seamless whole of these two, and may I give myself to that whole  love unreservedly.
 
By Allah, Jesus, Yahweh, Great Spirit, Mother Earth I pray. May it be so.
 
Rev. Andrew Frantz

I am drinking coffee out of my special Christmas mug, unpacked at this time of year and put back in storage after a few weeks—along with lights, ornaments, wrapping paper and other Christmas things. These connect me to the traditions of Christmas that have been part of my life since childhood: gathering with family, taking time off work and school for games and meals and giving presents.
 
I call myself a secular Christian or a cultural Christian because I was raised with Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny: traditions coinciding with the religious holidays of Christianity, but whose meaning was all about family togetherness and very little about religious belief.
 
At some point I rejected the mainstream religious notion that Jesus died and was born again, and the notion of being saved somehow by or through Jesus. However, I later embraced the figure of Jesus as a teacher and a healer, as a prophet who preached radical love. In honor of Christmas, I uplift the message of that Jesus that I believe in: that everyone is worthy, rich or poor; outcast or noble; that we should love one another.
 
Merry Christmas. If this is a holiday with meaning for you – deep religious meaning or the equally important meaning of family tradition – I hope you enjoy it. If Christmas is completely outside of your religious identity, I hope you enjoy the quiet of a day when almost everything is closed. And may we all be blessed by the message of love and hope that is at the core of  the Christmas story: a baby born in difficult times giving hope to his family and to others.
 
Prayer
May every child born be blessed and honored as special, as the child of God, as a holy being sent to bring hope, love and peace. May each of us see ourselves in that child, represented in the Christian tradition by the baby Jesus.
 
May we be wise enough to see universal wisdom and truth in the stories and holidays of many religious traditions – those we were born into, and those we learn about later in life.
 
May Christmas be a day of peace, love and joy for the whole world with no exceptions.
 
Amen.
 
Rev. Andrew Frantz