Unitarian Universalist Church of Palo Alto

Ingathering and Water Communion

Reverend Amy Zucker

Reverend Darcey Laine

September 12, 2004
Palo Alto, CA

Oceans - Rev. Amy Zucker

We sing a song here sometimes that we'll sing again in a little while, "The ocean refuses no river." What does this mean? It means that rivers flow always downhill, and sooner
or later they get to an ocean. And the ocean never turns them away. All water does the same thing: it shares the basic nature of heading as fast as possible to the lowest possible level. So the ocean doesn't decide, "oh, I like this river," or "I don't like that river." It is all water, blending together with perfect acceptance. The water that is now in the ocean was once somewhere else until it flowed there, and all the time there is new water rushing in from all the rivers of the world.

And then, no matter where it started out or where it entered the ocean, it is all one great sea covering most of the earth. It's the South Pacific, as warm as your bathtub, and the North Atlantic, where ice floats in the water. It's the calm inlets and the tumultuous open ocean. It's the salty water and the water that you could almost drink, the warm, living surface and the depths where no light penetrates and nothing lives. It is all water, and it all flows into one.

We are all one. No matter how different we are, no matter how far apart we live or how little we understand each other sometimes, we all share certain characteristics. We are bodies that need food and shelter, we have feelings, we want to be happy and free, we need love and we need to love other people.

We are all born into one humanity, just like the rivers that flow into one ocean. We human beings have a very hard time remembering that. We see all the differences among us and it's hard for us to live as if we all have important things in common, even though we know it's true.

This church is one place where we try to accept everyone and refuse no one. It's our place to practice making the kind of community we want the whole world of people to be. We want to remember that we are all one. Next week the choir will sing it for us and you can come hear them at 11 o'clock and be reminded. But in the meantime, you can sing to yourself the song we will sing in a few minutes: "The ocean refuses no river."

Tidepools - Rev. Darcey Laine

Back on the beaches of Maryland and New Jersey, the beaches I knew growing up, the were no such things as tide pools. So imagine my delight the first time my husband and I visited the Natural Bridges State Park in Santa Cruz as the tide was going out, and discovered a world of tide pools. Tiny communities of crabs, snails, anemones, limpets and starfish living in a pool of water so small I could stand with my feet on either side and peer down through the clear water at their amazing lives.

In the ranger station that day I read a story called "Sally and the Limpet" Sally is playing at the beach when she finds a brightly colored shell. As she pries it off a rock, the limpet suctions itself to her finger and won't let go. Sally's father, brother, teacher, classmates, and even the doctor try to remove it, but none are successful. Finally, in a fit of frustration, Sally runs back to the beach and jumps into the water. Back in familiar surroundings, the shell detaches itself from Sally's finger. She remembers learning that limpets spend their lives in one spot, so she carefully returns it to its original place.

As I walk among the tide pools ever since, I think about that Limpet, and about the incredible fragility of each of these tiny communities. I think about the delicate balance among the animals and plants that live in each pool, and notice that the pools which have only 2 inches of water at low tide, have completely different inhabitants than pools a few feet away that may have a foot or 2 of water at low tide. I am skeptical that such a tiny ecosystem can withstand the high tide as it comes in, the crashing waves of an immense ocean which hides the pools twice each day, and yet these communities have survived in just this way for thousands and thousands of years.

I wonder if our church community is something like a tide pool. The strong waves of the ocean pull and tug, and sometimes crash down on us, but here we are. Limpets, crabs, snails and anemones, each creates a delicate balance with the other. We are somehow small, local and particular in an immense ocean. This tide pool is ours. It is similar to many other tide pools, yet completely unique. It is precious and fragile, and it is home.

Fog - Rev. Amy Zucker

Sometimes water is a little scary. Life can be a little overwhelming too, and that's when we really need our church. The scary water I'm thinking of right now is fog. Fog is very beautiful if you're not trying to go anywhere, but if you need to move through it, it's a fast ticket to getting very confused and lost. Fog makes the world invisible. Driving in it is practically impossible. Walking down the street you feel like you're all alone, and then someone appears out of the fog just a few feet from you, very suddenly, and disappears again just as suddenly. You can't even hear as well when it's foggy. The water is like a heavy blanket that muffles every sound. And our lives are like that sometimes. We're walking along just fine, things are clear, we know where we're going, and then something comes along that makes us very confused. Has someone who was your friend ever really let you down? Or did you ever have to move to a new place, to a new school or job where you didn't know people? Or have things ever happened in your family that made you confused and sad?

We all have foggy times like that. We get muddled and we're not sure where we are. Those times are exactly when we need our church most, and they're one of the things this church is for: to give us guidance when we're feeling confused, and help us find our way when we're lost.

Our church--the whole Unitarian Universalist Association of churches, not just our church in Palo Alto--has a book publishing company called Beacon Press. When ships are lost in the fog, lighthouses shine incredibly brightly to show a beacon through the fog and bring them safely home. So if you look on the cover of an old Beacon Press book, you'll see a little picture of a lighthouse, or if you look on a new one, you'll see a picture of the streaming light. Whenever we feel lost in any way, our church is a light to guide us home.

Rainbows - Rev. Darcey Laine

Every Sunday for many years we have hung a rainbow flag in front of our church. We hope when people see this rainbow they will know that we welcome people here who love in different ways, who look different, who are different ages and who have lead all different kinds of lives. A couple of years ago in our children's program we decided to use the term "rainbow year" for a year when we learn about religious diversity. In such a year we study all the sources of our religious tradition, sources of the wisdom that informs and enlightens us.

Think about the last time you saw a real rainbow. The kind that shines in the mist of a waterfall, or the rainbows that grow when the sun is behind you and a misty rain is in front of you. The best rainbows, in my opinion, are the ones where you can see every single color brightly. Sometimes, if things are just right, you can see the cycle of colors complete themselves and start again. A double rainbow. I saw one over our youth building my first winter here at the church.

The sun’s light has all the colors in it. But if the sunlight shines through a prism or a mist, the light from the sun will come out the other side separated into all the colors of the rainbow. All the colors are beautiful- the red, orange, yellow, green blue purple, and all the colors in-between, each one is special and unique. They are different frequencies of one light. In this church we are reminded when we look at our rainbow flag, that we are the sunlight, and we are the rainbow. And life is the diffusing mist that shows us sometimes one and sometimes the other: Sometimes the confusing fog, sometimes the warming sunlight, and if we are very lucky, a true rainbow.

What is your reaction to this sermon? Please send comments to
Reverend Darcey Laine or
Reverend Amy Zucker