Mary Mangione Gear, UUFM Minister | Audio Link

Our first UU principle calls on us to recognize the inherent worth and dignity of all people. What does that look like when someone rubs us the wrong way or when we are in conflict?

Stinky Spots 2-7-16

I have a confession to make. I am one of those cat people. Yes,
it’s true. I just love cats, everything about them. I’ll happily tell
you stories about all the cats I’ve loved in my life. If you ask my
family, you will soon learn that this is not a new development; I’ve
loved cats since I was a little girl. It always surprises me to learn
that not everyone feels as I do; I want everyone to share my love of
cats. So, it was with great delight that I came across a blog post by
Janet Periat a few years ago entitled “Cat Adoption in 12 Easy
Steps.”

Periat wrote about how, at one time, her family had 6 cats, and that
the last one of their beloved cats, Pooter, had died. They were
suffering the tragedy of petlessness. So she was thinking about
adopting another cat, romantically remembering how loving and
playful her cats had been. In this process, her husband suggested a
12-step program to help her remember the joys—and challenges—
of cat ownership.
Step one of this 12-step process is called The Cat In The Lap.
It reads like this: Every time I sit down, I must pick up and hold in
my lap a plush-covered, heated bowling ball // randomly studded
with spikes // containing one extremely stinky spot. The plush
covering must shed and the spikes must be sharp enough to draw
blood. I must jab myself with the spikes occasionally, enough to
puncture my skin, and create pulls and pills in the material of my
pants. Every half hour, I must reposition the bowling ball on my
lap, ensuring that the stinky spot comes within a half inch of my
nose.
As a cat owner, this sounds about right. There are 11 more steps in
this cat adoption program exploring all the joys of cat ownership.
And, for those of us who are cat people, we still love them anyway,
stinky spots and all.
As I reflect on my love of cats, stinky spots and all, I realize that
this is true of people, too. We all have stinky spots, those dark
places we’d rather not notice, those things we’ve done that we
wish we could take back. And, yet, with luck, there are people
who love us anyway, stinky spots and all.
The first of our seven Unitarian Universalist principles says: we
covenant to affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of
every person. Because we see our principles as open for
discussion and interpretation, there is a movement in our
denomination to change the wording of this principle to: the
inherent worth and dignity of all beings. This change comes out of
our animal ministries, which call on us to recognize that we are
one of many beings that inhabit our Earth. I like this change
because it would encompass my beloved felines, as well as bring
us in line with our seventh principle of connection to the web of
life. The fellowship’s Sal Espana is involved in this movement,
and will have information and a petition available after the service.
See Sal for more informaiton.
But even if we limit this principle to people, it is still a strong
statement. Many religious traditions begin with the belief that
humans are flawed, born in sin, and in need of salvation. This
belief was what early Unitarians and Universalists railed against.
William Ellery Channing, a 19th century Unitarian minister,
believed that there is a spark of divinity in each of us and that the
perfectability of the human spirit is possible.
This optimistic view of humanity is a hallmark of our religious
tradition and is also reflected in our third principle: we affirm and
promote acceptance of one another and spiritual growth in our
congregations. We believe that the work of our congregations is to
accept each other and to support each other as we grow and
change. This radical acceptance is more than tolerance; it grows
out of the first principle; acceptance comes from recognition of
each person’s inherent worth and dignity, each person’s spark of
divinity.
The spiritual practice of these principles is our great gift, and our
challenge. One of the gifts that UU’s bring to the world is that our
principles call us to action for justice for all people, especially
those who are seen as less than, because we recognize their
inherent worth and dignity.
The spiritual practice of these principles is also a challenge. In
writing on the first principle, UU minister, Kenneth Collier put it
this way:
It does not say the inherent worth and dignity of people with whom
we happen to agree or whom we like. It does not say the inherent
worth and dignity of like-minded people, or people who are willing
to enter into rational, civilized discourse with us. It does not say
people with whom we may disagree but who are honorable and as
genuine in their beliefs as we are in ours. ….

 

We are also called to affirm the inherent worth and dignity of people whom we
thoroughly dislike, people whom we find obnoxious, obstreperous,
overbearing, and frightening; people whom we find abhorrent and
whose beliefs and behavior we find disgusting; even people who
would deny, silence, or destroy us.
In short, Collier says, we recognize the inherent worth and dignity
of everyone–no exceptions. We all have our particular challenges
in this regard. I came come up with a list of people that I would
find hard to see as worthy. This may be especially easy in the
midst of this political season. You each would have your own list.
This principle doesn’t ask us to agree with the behavior or beliefs
of everyone, it asks us to recognize their inherent worth and
dignity despite the fact that we might disagree with their beliefs
and actions. It requires that we separate being from behavior. It
asks us to see them as human and treat them as worthy, despite
what we may label as their stinky spots.
So it is our spiritual practice to live these principles. One of the
ways that I find most helpful is a spiritual practice of the Buddhist
tradition called the metta meditation or loving-kindness meditation.
The purpose of this practice is to open our hearts and develop
compassion for all beings. It consists of reciting specific phrases
that bestow blessings upon ourselves and others. The meditation
begins by saying phrases like these: May I be happy. May I be
well. May I be safe. May I be peaceful and at ease.
It moves out into the world wishing good for others: May you be
happy. May you be well. May you be safe. May you be peaceful
and at ease. It continues repeating these phrases as we call up
images of loved ones, then friends, neighbors, acquaintances, and
finally those that we have difficulty with.
High on the list of people I find difficult are those who neglect or
abuse animals. Recently, I had the opportunity to use this
meditation in a situation that you won’t be surprised to learn,
involves a cat. I take a daily walk in my neighborhood, and I have
a couple routes that maximize my cat contact. It’s a good walk
when I pet at least a few of the neighborhood cats. About a year
ago, I noticed a very skinny, orange cat with no tail and a very
deformed ear. She came right up to me and crawled into my arms,
settling in to be petted, and, oh how she purred. I made it a point
to walk by her house regularly, getting to know her. I noticed that
she lived on the porch and I could tell that she was fed somewhat
regularly by the presence of a pile of empty cat food cans. Each
time I left her it was harder, and each time I’d say a blessing: May
you be well. May you be safe. May you be peaceful and at ease.
It got to where I’d sit on the porch steps and hold her for a while,
brushing her to help keep her free of fleas. Eventually I met her
owners. I learned that her name was Olivia and that she was 13 or
14 years old. She was their cat because she’d belonged to a family
member who had died, and they took her in. They were allergic to
cats, so kept her outside, taking care of her as best they could.
She’d lost her tail as a kitten when she became trapped in the
engine of a car. I learned that her ear was deformed because she’d
gotten ear mites so badly that her ear became infected and turned
in on itself.

I noticed that she was often hungry, so I got their permission to
feed her extra food and also left some cans of food on their porch,
because they said they’d sometimes run out. I got their permission
to put a cat bed on the porch in a back corner out of the rain. And,
as the days got warmer, I brought a water dish and left it on the
porch, bringing fresh water whenever I walked by. When they
went away for a weekend, they asked me to feed Olivia, when
usually they’d leave her to her own devices.
Last Spring, her people asked if I wanted to adopt Olivia. After
learning that she hadn’t been to the vet in several years, I
suggested that I take her in before making a final decision. So, I
took her for an exam and blood work, then brought her home,
putting her in a room on her own, keeping her away from my cat.
She settled into our guest room quite nicely, enjoying a warm, safe
place to sleep with regular food and water.
Within 2 days I learned that she tested positive for Feline
Immunodeficiency Virus (FIV), the feline form of AIDS. This
explained her frailty and continual hunger, as well as the painful
sores in her mouth that made eating hard. She was fairly advanced
with this fatal and incurable disease, and she was highly
contagious. Cats spread FIV by fighting—the virus passes through
their saliva when they bite each other. There was no way that I
could put her outside again. And, I could not continue to keep her
in my house, putting my cat at risk. The rest of her life would be
filled with illness and infection, and eventually one of them would
kill her. I decided that euthanasia was the best option and so I
stopped by to let her owners know of my decision. I was with
Olivia when she died. I grieved her suffering and I grieved her
passing.
For several weeks I did not walk past her house. I was in one of my
dark places, my grief turned to anger: how could they not have
noticed how sick she was? Why didn’t they take better care of
her? How could they have let her suffer? I had a hard time
reminding myself that these were not bad people. They had
certainly done some things that I didn’t like, and they were not bad
people.
Eventually I began to walk by their house again. Even now, I still
feel weepy and sometimes angry. As I walk by, I try to remember
with gratitude that I knew Olivia, that she no longer suffers, and
that no more cats will be infected. Now, as I walk by, I also offer
her people a blessing: May you be well. May you be safe. May
you be peaceful and at ease. As I do so, my heart softens and
opens up just a little bit more.
This meditation also reminds me that we begin by blessing
ourselves. Affirming the inherent worth and dignity of all persons,
acceptance and growth, is also true for each one of us, too. We are
called to see our own worth and dignity, as well as that of others.
We are called to accept ourselves and practice compassion as we
learn and grow, stinky spots and all. I remind myself that I, too,
am worthy of blessing: May I be well. May I be safe. May I be
peaceful and at ease.
Writer and researcher Brene Brown began studying connection
between people, and ended up studying shame and vulnerability. In
her book, “Daring Greatly” she reminds us that we all have dark
and light within us. What she found is that we are loved for our
vulnerabilities, not despite them. Her research showed that the
only difference between people who feel a sense of deep belonging
and those who don’t is that they believe that they are worthy of
love and belonging. Let me say that again: the only difference
between people who feel a deep sense of belonging and those who
don’t is simply that they believe they are worthy of love and
belonging. People who feel connected have developed practices
that enable them to hold onto their sense of worthiness despite
internal and external messages to the contrary. They believe they
are worthy of love and connection, stinky spots and all.
This fellowship is at a critical time of growth and change, from a
family-sized church to a pastoral-sized church. More people
means, well, more stinky spots. Change can mean more chances to
disagree. Or, perhaps growth and change can mean more
opportunities to practice our first principle.
May we all grow into a place where we have a confession to make;
where we admit that we are one of those people, one of those
wacky UUs who say come, come whoever you are, who believe in
the inherent worth and dignity of all beings, and who practice
radical acceptance of ourselves and others, stinky spots and all.
I’ll give the last word to Brene Brown:
Only when we’re brave enough to explore the darkness will we
discover the infinite power of our light.
May it be so.