The subject today is centering and typically, viewed from what I might claim as a Unitarian Universalist perspective, the subject is a tangled one, one that is fully immersed in paradox. One of the most poignant, paradoxical statements I know, is by writer Nadine Gordimer: "I have learned since," she writes, "that sometimes the things we want most are impossible for us. You may long to come home, yet wander forever." Another statement, from science fiction writer, Ursula Le Guin, that is terribly pointed in its psychological accuracy: "To light a candle is to cast a shadow." And here are a few more that I found listed under Modern Wisdom: "Hospitality is making your guests feel at home, even if you wish they were." And: The world is full of willing people: some willing to work and some willing to let them." And: "Junk is something you throw away three weeks before you need it."

Centering (our subject for today) is, indeed, a paradox, and a deep one, for you see, it is the first thing we need to do in order to do anything well---first we must center. But, centering is also a psychological-spiritual-maturational goal we need to reach; it is the final thing we can hope to be, both as persons and as community . . . centered . . . which, to me, is another word for being whole.

When I think about centering, I sometimes imagine the image of throwing a pot, of creating a pot out of wet, malleable, unformed clay.

If we take that image, of throwing a pot, into our own human lives, a particularly sharp picture arises for me. It is a view of that place where we were first centered in our lives, where the clay of our being and biology was first formed---our infancy and early childhood. Our genetic/psychological structure was the clay, that responded both to an incredibly sophisticated internal shaping by the powerful and active chemistry within our millions of cells and variegated tissues, by our own lace-like and dynamically latticed neurology, and by the ordered dance of the full gestalt of our human beingness as a biological entity; this genetic/psychological clay also responded to the external stimulation and assault of the wide world in which we lived, a world filled with phenomena so complex, poly-chromatic, many layered, and multi-determined it inspires awe just to realize that we survived it at all, and more than that, that we flourished---to become the amazing adults, who sit now in this quiet sanctuary, breathing together. My God, what an amazing journey we have all been through!

But, if that were not enough, the very foundational genetics/psychology that formed our being alive (just as we are now, here, breathing together), also had its own agenda---pushing against what pushed on us, driving us to seek particular gratifications and needs, frequently leading us to act in ways that were risky because of our immaturity. (We are not just the product of pressures and conditioning, we are also shapers and conditioners ourselves.)

Within the context of religious community, and of living ethically and religiously, the image of us as the clay on the biologic and social potter's wheel during our childhoods, calls us to recognize, in very practical terms, the place and the importance of religious education. I understand that many of you are past the active parenting phase of your lives, and that religious community represents an opportunity to commune with adults, focusing on issues relevant to the on-going development of your life as adults. And of course every congregational community needs to attend to those needs in central ways---but if we do not insure that the youth and the children are also brought along richly, with attention, care and deep respect---our legacy will be empty, our future will be, finally, nonexistent. Recognizing our obligation to educate our youth, in our values, through our availability to them and with our presence, also reveals our connectedness to the larger world of UUism, and to its deep tradition of offering a religious alternative to a culture and an era that are sinking into an abyss of superficiality and violence encouraged by insatiable consumerist, military-industrial and media-industrial complexes that seem to override every attempt to find peaceful and ecologically sound practices for righting our relationship with the earth and with one another. (Whew!)

Centering in community means becoming the village that is necessary to raise our children, each precious one of them, one by one, whether they are our blood or legal relatives or not.

So . . . one of the primary meanings of being centered here, at UUCPA means supporting an active, creative religious education program for our children and youth---with your time and your presence, as well as with your money.

Another dimension of understanding our lives as individuals and as members of community through the image of the creative work of a skilled potter is simply how it shows us the importance of the formative stages of our lives in making us who we are now---gathered here, together, quietly in this sanctuary---breathing. In potting, every delicate pressure against the clay has an effect; every addition or lack of moisture, has an effect; every gesture of skill, or lack of skill has an effect---upon the ultimate shape of the pot. So, too, of course, with us as we were, as human children. Every nuance of language ("ya'll"; versus "all of you"); every action by those so powerful adults surrounding us; every driblet of love, or gusher of attention; every unfair demand, or reasonable discipline; every media image of what was acceptable, or unacceptable---of what was to be desired or rejected; every book, and the enormous impact books had on our developing minds; every relationship with others, whether painful or fun, critical or inviting. All, all of that, shaped us, forming the fabric of our existential journey, our existential dilemma, and creating something we now believe to be ourselves---something we now name as "Me" and "Us." The "Me," the "Us" gathered here now, breathing together, quietly, in this sanctuary.

To be centered individuals, to be a centered community, we have to use our powerful human reason and intuition (which always work best when they work in tandem) to learn from our past, to detect the patterns that harm and hinder us, to tease out the hidden gifts central to our being. And that is one of the profound gifts of religious community itself: to offer us a laboratory, as it were, to explore who we are---within the context of trust and affirmation, encouragement and challenge. So . . . one of the great gifts of living in, participating in UU community is the opportunity it gives us to learn about ourselves. But, of course, it is more than that, it is more than just a place to learn. It is also a place where we can allow our learning to flower into intentional action which serves truth, which authentically assists others, which speaks truth to power.

Behind everything I am saying here, there is a central question running like a bright ribbon. That question is: "In what are we to be centered?" Insuring that our religious education programs are strong, is critical, but strong in what? Being sensitive to, and learning from, the lessons of our personal pasts is important, but important for what? Developing a sense of centeredness at the core of our being, a sense of authentic wholeness, sounds like it is necessary, but necessary for what?

I believe any answer to those questions must offer something that arises from an authentic moral imperative . . . and, at the same time, it must be so fundamental to our very existence as to make meaningful life impossible without it.

The two centering thoughts for today are convergent, they offer what I believe is a fundamental ethical, moral ground in which we can center ourselves in order to live lives that are healthy, and that generate a sense of deep meaning. Let's look at them, together.

"One thing I know: the only ones who will be really happy are those who will have sought and found how to serve." ---Albert Schweitzer

"For anonymous and all the unsung who show us not how to be saints, but how to be fully human." ---Dedication in Speak The Truth To Power, by Kerry Kennedy Cuomo

That is, in order to be truly grounded, truly centered in all domains of our lives, we must find ways to connect to something larger than ourselves. But just any larger thing will, obviously, not do. Just any larger cause will not provide us truth nor true health.

The subtitle of Kerry Kennedy Cuomo's book, Speak Truth To Power, from where I drew our second centering thought, is "Human Rights Defenders Who Are Changing Our World." What she points us toward by lifting up the lives of those, both known and especially unknown, who have chosen to defy exploitative forces is a "something larger" that has to do with power. It is not, however, only the power that is outside of us, it is also the power that resides within us, firing our consciousnesses and our hearts. When we choose to stand against forces, institutions, movements that strip people of their legitimate rights, that objectify and exploit them for material profit, that fearfully stereotype persons denying them access to necessary resources---when we make the decision to exercise our own inner authority to speak the truth in the face of exploitation and oppression, we are standing at our center. It is one of the most profound things that a religious community can do for us, and one of the things that most defines it as truly religious. The question when assessing such a community necessarily is, "How much does this community empower us to speak truth to power?" Collectively and individually.

Of course, there are many purposes for religious community, some of which are simple yet compelling gifts of the spirit and our humanity; gifts like sustaining and nurturing, comforting and honoring, celebrating and sharing. What I am lifting up here, however, is the power of community to support us, and challenge us, so that we can walk consciously out on to the ground of human dignity and freedom and stand up for the truth---as we see it. There is a special sense of internal freedom as well as integrity when we speak the truth, when we make the choice to stand against violence, exploitation and oppression in all their hideous permutations. A special sense of rightness internally. A special wakefulness to our full humanity.

And this is the last dimension of centeredness I would put before you today: wakefulness and presence. We are most centered, most alive, most present as persons, when we can assert, as Gautama Buddha said when he was asked by a follower who he was, "I am awake," he replied. Becoming highly awake, even fully awake, I believe is possible, and not only is it possible, it is our birthright, and the true health that our biology was meant to support. It is as possible as it is to sit, as we are now here in this room, breathing together. I believe it is possible because I am hearing about it from more and more persons I respect and trust . . . and I am experiencing it more and more regularly in my own life.

The subject of waking up, of becoming fully present in our lives, is a huge one, one that we could easily spend a whole career of sermons exploring---and many of us are committed to spending our lives doing so. I am going to select out just one slender strand from the rich wealth involved in the simple act of being fully present. It is this: When we are fully present and centered, we are completely free of problems. Problems simply do not exist.

Now I know what some of you are thinking; perhaps all of you. "Has he gone over the edge and gotten lost in the Coastal Fog? Has the Silicon of the Valley infected the cognitive apparatus of this Southern California boy? Has the Coastal humidity finally rusted his mental gears?" Well, in response, let me relate a little story I recently heard.

It seemed that one major US computer lab believed it had succeeded in building a supercomputer able to solve any strategic or tactical problem of a military nature. Top brass from all the services assembled in front of the new machine and fed a difficult tactical problem into it. They described a hypothetical situation to the computer and then asked the pivotal question: ATTACK OR RETREAT?

The computer hummed away for an hour and then came up with an answer: YES.

The generals and admirals looked at each other, somewhat stupefied. Finally one of them submitted a second request to the computer: YES WHAT?

Instantly the computer responded: YES SIR.

What I want to suggest to you is that when we are not present and awake in the moment, this moment now, that is exactly how we operate: by formula. And one of the major formulas that we have all learned is that when something doesn't go our way, It is a Problem.

Things have been labeled that way throughout and ever since our childhood. (Perhaps we were even asked, "Just what is your problem?") And although, as we mature, we generally come to accept that we need to let go of expectations, and go with the flow so to speak, most often it still galls us at some deep level to have to do so. Being galled by problems is measured in degrees of resistance to life, resistance to its issues, to its unpredictable changes---simply put, to its penchant for going in ways we had not planned and do not want. This becomes most evident when we hit a large personal crises of some sort. If we have a serious health problem, lose someone we love, suffer a major financial set back---when that happens we most often feel overwhelmed, and frequently we obsess. We go over and over the situation, worried about how it will all turn out (a Future-oriented reaction), imagining the worst, criticizing our selves or others for causing it to happen in the first place (a Past-oriented reaction). It has become a "Problem."

If, on the other hand, we approached that situation from a place where we were deeply centered, which means to be deeply awake to the present moment, to Now, we would live that situation out very differently. The internal chatter, the constant static of inner talk that we mistakenly call thinking, would radically subside, even cease. There would be a sense of deep inner quiet, and we could truly, accurately and openly observe what was going on. In that moment, we would never label what was happening as a problem because to do so would be to close it off, to bind it up in a concept that was far too limiting to our authentic thinking and our fluid openness and receptiveness. What was happening would not BE a problem, it would simply be life happening. Just as it is, here, now, in this room where we are gathered together, breathing.

What I am suggesting here is that the word "problem" may be efficiently applied to solving math questions, but when used to describe situations we face in living our human lives, it represents something entirely different: it creates limitations; it generates a formulaic obsessiveness that keeps our real capacities tied up, our true perceptions clouded.

Perhaps this seems to be a simplistic matter of labels, but I assure you, I do not believe it is. It, rather, concerns a fundamental state of inner liberation.

To be truly present is to be still within. Stillness is devoured by the constant chatter in our heads that we call thinking. In fact, we are taken over by this constant chatter. We do not run it, it runs us. I submit that it is, in fact, a true addiction. Try to stop it for any length of time, it will reassert itself, and take over your awareness. On the other hand, when we are engaged in dealing with issues with a wide open spaciousness of mind, that is, at the same time, quite present and focused, then true thinking is possible. No issue, after all, can be "thought out" to a fully realized conclusion, it has to be "experienced out." My assertion is that living out our lives free from the noise and incessant chatter that resists life, that defines situations as problems, is most possible, happens most powerfully, when we experience a sense of deep inner peace and silence. Where simply sitting together, as we are now, breathing, can be profound beyond measure, can be richly nurturing and gratifying, can be deeply celebrative.

We've covered quite a distance and a lot of materiel today, so let me sum up what I've said:

When we center ourselves in community, religious community, we are called to provide powerfully for our children. (And when I say our children, I mean the children of our community, though they may not be members of our actual family nor related to us by genetics.)

As members of liberal religious community, we are gifted with the opportunity to experiment with ways of being in the world, with talents and interests that we have, or would like to develop. Doing so is one of the ways that community centers itself.

Being grounded, striving to center, we can come into touch with our individual and collective pasts in new and important ways---so that we can make changes in how we live. It is one of the primary tasks of religious community to support us in making those changes.

One of the most powerful of ways to ground ourselves, to center ourselves, and to live out of that center, is by taking action to speak the truth, and especially to speak the truth to power.

And, lastly, authentic centering offers a radical inner liberation in which the way we experience the world, ourselves and life is fundamentally and powerfully changed.

So there you have it. A little excursion into a few of the many dimensions of centering; emerging in this room, passing through here, here where we have gathered . . . together . . . in religious community, here where we are sitting . . . together . . . breathing.

May you find your way, both within the sheltering and challenging arms of this congregation, and beyond the boundaries of its sanctuary, to live deeply centered lives, lives with true integrity and courage, which, I believe is our birthright as beings who are human.