Sermon by Rev. Alan Taylor
Preached at Unity Temple Unitarian Universalist Congregation
October 10, 2004
Reading 1:
from Beloved, by Toni Morrison
"Here,” said Baby Suggs, “in
this here place, we flesh. Flesh that weeps, laughs, flesh that dances on bare
feet in grass. Love it. Love it hard. Yonder they do not love your flesh. They
despise it. They don't love your eyes; they'd just as soon pick ‘em out. No more
do they love the skin on your back. Yonder they flay it. And O my people, they
do not love your hands. Those they only use, tie, bind chop off and leave empty.
Love your hands! Raise them up and kiss them. Touch others with them, pat them
together, stroke them on your face 'cause they don't love that either. You got
to love it, you! ... This is flesh I'm talking about here. Flesh that needs to
be loved.”
Reading 2:
from Letters To A Young Poet, by Rainer Maria Rilke
Bodily delight is a sensory
experience, not any different from pure looking or the pure feeling with which a
beautiful fruit fills the tongue; it is a great, an infinite learning that is
given to us, a knowledge of the world, the fullness and the splendor of all
knowledge. And it is not our acceptance of it that is bad; what is bad is that
most people misuse this learning and squander it and apply it as a stimulant on
the tired places of their lives and as a distraction rather than as a way of
gathering themselves for their highest moments. People have even made eating
into something else: necessity on the one hand, excess on the other; have
muddied the clarity of this need, and all the deep, simple needs in which life
renews itself have become just as muddy. But the individual can make them clear
for himself and live them clearly.
Sermon:
Awhile back, one of God’s
messengers was sent to survey the progress of the Christian religion. The angel
checked in on the church leaders who were crafting the core doctrine. What he
saw alarmed him and so he rushed back to report back to God. Out of breath, the
angel said, “Oh God, they forgot the R, they forgot the R in the primary
teaching. I can’t believe it, they forgot the R. The word was supposed to be
‘Celebrate!’”
Churches typically rail against the excesses of sensuality
and eroticism in our culture. Today I’d like to consider the sacred aspects of
the erotic, how it often gets perverted to be sacrilegious, and reflect how we
can embrace it in healthy, wholesome ways.
Last spring, two dozen people participated in my course on
Unitarian Universalist theologies. When discussing feminist theologians, a
conversation ensued that broke open my understanding of the erotic. We began
with Carolyn McFague. In her book Models of God, she suggests God can be
best understood through imaginative metaphor. She encourages us to consider God
as Mother. That struck chords for a number of people. She then suggests to image
God as a friend. And then she urges us to image God as lover. This woke up the
class, and intense conversation ensued. Several women said that seeing God as a
lover is seeing God as a partner, with whom one can be at one’s most vulnerable,
a partner with whom one grows in depth and understanding, a partner with whom
one inevitably doesn’t understand and doesn’t always get along, a partner that
one may decide to leave and then realize that one doesn’t want to be alone. For
me this was a sublime moment in teaching. The depth of response indicated how
much longing there is for intimacy with the divine.
There were far fewer men in the class than women. Those
there expressed dismay at imaging God as lover. One man said that this idea was
truly repulsive. For him, the word lover holds connotations of having an affair,
of being untrue to oneself, of pornographic sexuality. Many women in the class
reiterated their appreciation for this image, because for them lover means
partner, one with whom one can be truly oneself, one with whom you can be
vulnerable, one whom you can trust, deepen with, and cherish, even though there
are always difficult times and disagreements and unmet expectations.
Audre Lorde, a self-identified “Black lesbian feminist,” in
her book Sister Outsider, articulates a clear foundation for feminist
theology. The chapter is called The Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power. I
agree wholeheartedly with her argument that our culture typically cuts itself
off from the wholesome aspects of the erotic, that it has instead focused on the
pornographic aspects of sexuality which is a perversion of the erotic, and that
women, in particular, can find new power and courage if they open themselves to
the life-affirming power of the erotic. What a concept: the erotic, properly
understood, is a form of power, genuine, relational power. Listen to what Audre
Lorde, has to say:
"The erotic functions for me in several ways, and the
first is in providing the power which comes from sharing deeply any pursuit
with another person. The sharing of joy, whether physical, emotional, psychic,
or intellectual, forms a bridge between the sharers which can be the basis for
understanding much of what is not shared between them, and lessens the threat
of their difference.
"Another important way in which the erotic connection
functions is the open and fearless underlining of my capacity for joy. In the
way my body stretches to music and opens into response hearkening to its
deepest rhythms, so every level upon which I sense also opens to the
erotically satisfying experience, whether it is dancing, building a bookcase,
writing a poem, examining an idea. That self-connection shared is a measure of
the joy which I know myself to be capable of feeling, a reminder of my
capacity for feeling. And that deep and irreplaceable knowledge of my capacity
for joy comes to demand from all of my life that it be lived within the
knowledge that such satisfaction is possible, and does not have to be called
marriage, nor god, nor an afterlife.
"This is one reason why the erotic is so feared, and so
often relegated to the bedroom alone, when it is recognized at all. … Our
erotic knowledge empowers us, becomes a lens through which we scrutinize all
aspects of our existence, forcing us to evaluate those aspects honestly in
terms of their relative meaning within our lives. And this is a grave
responsibility, projected from within each of us, not to settle for the
convenient, the shoddy, the conventionally expected, or the merely safe."
Our culture tends to associate the erotic with shame,
secrecy, and the titillating. I grew up with associating the erotic with looking
at Playboy magazines carefully hidden in a closet. For me, Audre Lorde’s work is
truly liberating, helping me understand why the compulsion towards the
pornographic serves to disconnect me from others, and that there is another, not
only more wholesome, life-enhancing way of approaching the erotic. As Rilke said
in the reading, bodily delight can lead us to a knowledge of the world, “the
fullness and the splendor of all knowledge. And it is not our acceptance of it
that is bad; what is bad is that most people misuse this learning and squander
it and apply it as a stimulant on the tired places of their lives and as a
distraction rather than as a way of gathering themselves for their highest
moments."
In other words, understanding the source of my strength and
joy brings me into a deeper relationship with all of existence, calling me to
clarify how to live my life. For example, Lorde notes that by defining good in
terms of profit rather than in terms of human need, we foster a system that
obliges us to cut ourselves off from our genuine feelings of wholeness and joy
in order to live within the system. Cutting ourselves off from the wholesome
ways of the erotic leads to depression, addiction and even violence.
Carter Heyward, a lesbian Episcopal priest, takes Audre
Lorde’s idea that the erotic is power one step further. Heyward argues that the
erotic is not only the source of authentic strength but the erotic is the love
of God manifested in the world. Whoa! In her book, Touching Our Strength: The
Erotic as Power and the Love of God, Heyward asserts that the nature of the
erotic, properly understood, calls us into mutually empowering relationships
where no one dominates or exploits the other. She goes so far to say, “To make
love, is to make justice.” When in touch with the erotic, we are less likely to
accept powerlessness, resignation, despair, or self-effacement. When we embrace
the erotic in healthy ways, we are more capable of working for a better world.
Carter Heyward certainly knows of the creative power that transcends
powerlessness, for she was among that first small group of women to be ordained
as priests in the Episcopal Church.
I don’t think it is merely coincidence that it was two
lesbian thinkers who led me to believe that we need to make room for the erotic
in our lives. Many of the most religiously clear people I know have been obliged
to come to grips with their truth despite the dominant culture telling them that
they are wrong, sick, and damned if they share their deepest vulnerability with
someone of the same gender. All of us, regardless of sexual identity, if we are
to live full and healthy lives, we must go through the process of coming to know
ourselves for who we honestly are. We can’t simply live according to “the truth”
handed down to us if it doesn’t jive with our own experience or conscience.
Tomorrow marks national coming out day. This year’s theme
is “Come Out, Speak Out, Vote.” This theme is as much religious as political. It
is a religious endeavor to come out of the closet, to speak out the truth of
your experience and conscience, and to vote according to your most cherished
values. Audre Lorde says, “we have been raised to fear the yes within ourselves,
our deepest cravings.” What would happen if we all came out and spoke out of the
deep yes that resides in each and everyone of us? On the temple wall outside, a
hanging banner says to the world that civil marriage is a civil right. As one
parishioner said to me, we as a congregation are coming out! It behooves us all
to embrace the authentic power of the erotic.
I can understand why some folks worry that an affirmation
of the erotic could lead to irresponsible or hurtful behavior. Our culture
devalues the erotic as merely the stimulation that comes from sexual activity,
then yes, such an affirmation would be irresponsible, but to equate the erotic
with shallow, plasticized sensations, that to which so much of today’s market
caters, is in itself an irresponsible, immoral act, and one which happens all
too often among us. The erotic and the pornographic are two diametrically
opposed ways of understanding human sensuality. The erotic serves to connect
people to others, to beauty, to God or the divine. The pornographic serves to
disconnect people from others, from beauty, and from God or the divine.
The erotic is so much more than sexual activity. Lovemaking
is only one component. There are so many others that people can embrace other
than sex. Celibacy need not exclude the erotic. Celibacy can be a healthy way of
being, when other sensual delights are a part of one’s life, whether that be a
lovely fruit that fills the tongue, good food that satisfies, occasions to dance
and play, attentiveness to the brisk breezes of autumn, being filled by the
colors that many deciduous trees are now sporting.
Children are especially good teachers of delighting in
sensuality. The last time I was out to dinner with a two year old, the little
boy got his hands in my salad before I let him climb into my lap, stand on my
thighs, and put his arms around my neck. How wonderful it is to have another
person, regardless of age and relationship smile big at you, gingerly wrap their
arms around you, or, when you’re not looking, put their fingers in your mouth,
giving you the taste of bleu-cheese.
During the three years I worked with sexually abused
children, I was often reminded that many people in our culture fear being
touched, and there is great fear of touching others. The greatest irony was that
we counselors were advised to limit our touch of these touch-deprived children.
Needless to say, we developed a policy that when another counselor was in the
room and the child was receptive, we would periodically find healthy, wholesome
ways to touch them. For these boys longed for physical attention. Sometimes they
acted out to get physically restrained because they didn’t know how to ask for
affectionate touch, for these boys embodied our cultural mores. Any touch from a
man was considered gross, and from a woman, sexual.
One evening, when the boys had been running around, getting
ever more rowdy, with bedtime quickly approaching, I figured out a way to get
them to settle down. I would say to them, “Wow after all this playing, my
heartbeat is over 100. Hey, EJ, come over here and let me check your heart rate.
I then pulled him into me, put my hand on his heart and looked at my watch. “Oh
my, EJ, your heart is beating at 150 times a minutes. Let’s see how far you can
bring that down in the next five minutes.” Suddenly all the boys were clambering
to have their pulses taken, including Al-mon, the small 13 year old who
terrified the other boys and most of the staff with his cold calculating voice
and threats of violence. Of all the boys I touched, I will never forget touching
Al-mon. As he kept up his typical front of ferocious superiority and an
invincible will, I put my hands around his little chest. His heart raced. He was
frantic inside while he kept up his “don’t mess with me” look. This was the boy
that refused and thwarted all attempts at affection and relationship. And each
time I pulled him into me to check his heartbeat, the hug that he was too proud
and scared to receive was finally his. In time he smiled as he was held and
would request of me to check his heart. As I wrapped my arms around him, pulling
him into my embrace, he insisted to anyone else that I was simply checking his
pulse.
Given what these children have been through, I wouldn’t
trust them alone with younger children. It is a sad reality that sensuality and
the erotic gets perverted such that some, perhaps many, people are prone to
sexualized behavior, making others uncomfortable, or outright exploiting others.
Along with our legal counsel and Executive Committee, your Director of Religious
education and I have been working on a Child and Youth Protection Policy to do
all we can to prevent any form of child abuse here within our congregation. The
awful reality is that we need to be proactive. Too many human beings have been
cut off from the healing powers of the erotic and instead dwell in the realm of
the pornographic where they are cut off from genuine feeling. A perverted form
of sensuality within our culture urges us to regard other human beings as
objects. We are in need of a healthy eroticism to call us into right
relationship with ourselves, our loved ones, and the divine.
Theologian Mathew Fox writes: “To recover the erotic is to
recover play and the child in ourselves and in all creation … Perhaps the time
has come to play with God more than to pray to God, And in our play true prayer
will emerge. And we [too] will emerge as younger, fresher, greener [and whole].”
Here at Unity Temple, I am grateful for the many people over seventy years of
age who have shared with me they think of themselves as seventy odd years young,
rather than seventy odd years old.
Ashley Montague, in his study on Growing Young,
writes, “of all the animal species we know, the human is unique in its capacity
to play into adulthood. An insect never plays; a chimpanzee plays hard as a
youngster but loses play as an adult; an adult [human] can play right up 'til
death, and with death. But, how human are we? How many of us and how many of our
institutions render us insect-like in our lack of letting go, lack of
celebration as a value and as an authentic source of truth and truthful
relating?
At any age, we become less human by cutting ourselves off
from the erotic, from creation and its holy wellspring. If we allow our
intellect, our head, to cut us off from our bodies, our emotions and the deep
passions that stir us, we shall remain detached from the true source of
connection and celebration in our lives. The question is how to bring forth the
deep passions within for good, for justice, for love.
And so I call upon you to make room in your lives for the
erotic, whether that be dancing, attentively using your hands in a craft, making
love, making justice, speaking out of the deep yes within you.
Blessed be. Amen.
© Copyright 2004 Alan C.
Taylor, All Rights Reserved.
