other points of view shoreline unitarian universalist

©2019. All notes, research, sermons and other products are the sole intellectual property of Rev. Lloyd, unless otherwise noted as the intellectual property of another. Sermons may be copied for individual use, only. If quoted, appropriate attribution to Rev. Lloyd is expected.

“Other Points of View” © Shoreline Unitarian Universalist Society, Madison, CT

The Rev. Jeanne Lloyd July 14, 2019

Sounding of the Gong Gathering Music Prelude No. 2, Gershwin Nick Stanford, Pianist #Welcome Sue Rosen, Secretary Board of Trustees Prelude The Entertainer, Joplin Chalice Lighting (The flaming chalice is the symbol of our free faith) Opening Words Rev. Lloyd With humility and courage born of our history, we are called as Unitarian Universalists to build the Beloved Community where all souls are welcome as blessings, and the human family lives whole and reconciled. With this vision in our hearts and minds, we light our chalice.1 #*Opening Hymn 286 A Core of Silence, v. 1-2 As we prepare to sing our hymn, you will find the hymnals under the seat in front of you, unless you’re in the front row where they were on you seat. We invite you to share hymnals. Honoring Our Joys and Sorrows And, now, if you woke this morning with a sorrow so heavy that you need the help of this community to carry it; or if, in the spirit of thankfulness, you woke with gratitude in your heart that simply must be shared, now is the time for you to speak. Please come forward to the mic as you are able. Or, we will bring a mic to you, as needed. PAUSE

1 https://www.uua.org/worship/words/chalice-lighting/vision-unitarian-universalism-multicultural-world

July 13, 2019

https://www.uua.org/worship/words/chalice-lighting/vision-unitarian-universalism-multicultural-world

“Other Points of View” Rev. Jeanne Lloyd, 7-14-19

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Pastoral Reflection Today you are also invited to come forward to silently light a candle on behalf of a joy or sorrow you carry in your mind or soul. If you are unable to come forward, after others have lit their candles, I invite you to raise your hand and I will light a candle for you. Musical Meditation Summerland, Still Offertory Words Summer Share the Plate: KIVA Here, we share with generosity what treasure we have with others whose needs are greater than our own. Our Share the Plate collection donates 50% of our cash offering each week to a designated community program that serves others. In July and August, we are collecting funds for the KIVA program, an organization that envisions a financially inclusive world where all people hold the power to improve their lives through the practice of making microloans. SUUS’s connection with KIVA began in the summer of 2015 with a $1500 “seed grant”. To date we have loaned out more than $5000. These short-term, low-interest micro-loans of around $200-$400 each, support individuals with small businesses who otherwise cannot access capital through traditional bank loans. Please give generously. Offering & Offertory Music Honey, Dett Reflection Other Points of View Rev. Lloyd A couple of weeks ago, we reflected together on the poetry and theology of Mary Oliver. She was a favorite poet of many. Her poems are penetrating reflections about nature, and, its creatures, objects, and weather: the grasshopper, the dog, the tree, the sun, ponds, birds, rain and storms. When crafting this service, I thought we might explore the philosophy (dare I say theology?) of a different poet today, and perhaps, compare and contrast their points of view on this life and its meaning. So, let’s turn to the poetry of Sonia Sanchez, from her book, “shake loose my skin.” She is and has been a leading writer of the Black Arts Movement for decades.

She was born Wilsonia Benita Driver2 in 1934, in Birmingham, Alabama, almost exactly one year before Oliver was born. As with Oliver, her childhood was somewhat fractured. Her mother died a year after her birth. She lived with her grandparents and other relatives for several years. Later she moved in with her father, his 3rd wife, and her sister, in Harlem. She had her own troubles with these transitions. “As a child [she] stuttered and as a result was very reticent about verbally expressing herself . . . [Kalamu

2 https://poets.org/poet/sonia-sanchez July 13, 2019

https://poets.org/poet/sonia-sanchez


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ya Salaam] says, ”that she has become an articulate, outgoing, engaging poet with the oratory power to move audiences to laughing out loud and to unashamedly crying in public is a direct reflection of Sanchez's will to overcome.”3

Though she first earned a BA in Political Science in 1955 . . . when doing her postgraduate work at New York University, she turned toward poetry,4 studying with Louise Bogan. “Sanchez formed a writers' workshop in Greenwich Village, attended by such poets as Amiri Baraka (LeRoi Jones), Haki R. Madhubuti (Don L. Lee), and Larry Neal. [She also formed the “Broadside Quartet” of young poets with Madhubuti, Nikki Giovanni, and Etheridge Knight].”5

“She married and divorced Albert Sanchez, whose surname she kept. In the early 1960s she was an integrationist, supporting the philosophy of the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE)”6 whose purpose is "to bring about equality for all people regardless of race, creed, sex, age, disability, sexual orientation, religion or ethnic background."7 “But after considering the ideas of Black Muslim leader Malcolm X, who believed blacks would never be truly accepted by whites in the United States, she focused more on her black heritage from a separatist point of view.”8

From there, in the sixties, she became ““a pioneer in developing black studies courses at what is now San Francisco State University, where she was an instructor from 1968 to 1969. In 1971, she joined the Nation of Islam, but [left it] by 1976 . . . because of its repression of women.”9

Sanchez is the author of more than a dozen books of poetry and several children’s books, a playwright of several plays, and editor of two anthologies. She is the recipient of several literary awards, including the Community Service Award from the National Black Caucus of State Legislators, the Lucretia Mott Award, the Peace and Freedom Award from the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom, a National Endowment for the Arts Award, and a Pew Fellowship in the Arts. In 2018, she received the Wallace Stevens Award, given annually to recognize outstanding and proven mastery in the art of poetry.10

Retired in 1999, she lives in Philadelphia where she once served as its Poet Laureate.11

3 http://wordup.posthaven.com/essay-love-and-liberation-soniasanchezs-liter July 13, 2019




7 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Congress_of_Racial_Equality June 13, 2019





https://poets.org/poetsorg/poet/louise-bogan

https://poets.org/poetsorg/poet/amiri-baraka

https://poets.org/poetsorg/poet/haki-madhubuti

https://poets.org/poetsorg/poet/nikki-giovanni

https://poets.org/poetsorg/poet/nikki-giovanni

https://poets.org/poetsorg/poet/etheridge-knight

https://poets.org/node/54216

http://wordup.posthaven.com/essay-love-and-liberation-soniasanchezs-liter




https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Congress_of_Racial_Equality%20June%2013






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As I said, when I first planned this service, I thought I would offer an analysis of the differences and commonalities between the work of Mary Oliver and Sonia Sanchez. But, instead, I have decided to only offer a few observations before sharing her work with you. Why? Because . . . have you ever found that the act of interpretation sometimes taints the raw beauty of the object? It strikes me that whatever I might offer can only come from a white person’s arrogance and privilege. There are times that less is more, and this is one of them. My brief observations are these:

I invite you to consider the title of her book from which I’ve drawn her poems today, “Shake Loose My Skin” . . .

What would it be like to be able to shake loose your skin?

Why would one find it necessary to do so?

What would remain if one could do so?

What, in your life might even prompt the thought to do so?

And, thus, we have perhaps the most obvious distinction between Oliver and Sanchez: their skin color. Has their skin color shaped their lives differently? Undoubtedly. But, coming from a troubled family, Oliver escaped to nature and learned the craft of deep observation of the beauty and brutality of nature. Coming from a disrupted childhood, Sanchez also learned the art of penetrating observation, but this time into sustaining relationships, despite the trouble that skin color brings. Or rather, not the color of one’s skin, but the trouble that others bring to those with differently colored skin.

“Shake Loose My Skin” . . . is this a plea to be rid of the very thing that inspires others to treat you unfairly? Or, is it a cry, a demand of others to say, “see me, see ME! See past my skin color! Treat me like you want to be treated. Treat me as I deserve to be treated!”

I offer you Sonia Sanchez in her own voice, so that she may touch your spirit and inspire you to resonate more deeply with other points of view.

PAUSE


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Present

. . . there is no place for a soft / black / woman. there is no smile green enough or summertime words warm enough to allow my growth.

and in my head i see my history standing like a shy child and i chant lullabies as i ride my past on horseback

tasting the thirst of yesterday tribes

hearing the ancient/black/woman me, singing hay-hay-hay-hay-ya-ya-ya hay-hay-hay-hay-ya-ya-ya like a slow scent beneath the sun and i dance my creation

and my grandmothers gathering

from my bones like great wooden birds spread their wings while their long/legged/laughter stretched the night. and i taste the seasons of my birth.

mangoes. papayas. drink my woman/coconut/milks stalk the ancient grandfathers sipping on proud afternoons walk like a song round my waist tremble like a new/born/child troubles with new breaths

and my singing becomes the only sound of a blue/black/magical/woman. walking. womb ripe. walking. loud with mornings. walking. making pilgrimage to herself. walking.

PAUSE


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This is Not a Small Voice12

This is not a small voice you hear

this is a large voice coming out of these cities. This is the voice of LaTanya. Kadesha. Shaniqua. This is the voice of Antoine. Darryl. Shaquille. Running over waters navigating the hallways of our schools

spilling out on the corners of our cities

and no epitaphs spill out of their river mouths.

This is not a small love you hear this is a large love, a passion for kissing learning on its face. This is a love that crowns the feet with hands that nourishes, conceives, feels the water sails mends the children, folds them inside our history where they toast more than the flesh where they suck the bones of the alphabet and spit out closed vowels. This is a love colored with iron and lace. This is a love initialed Black Genius.

This is not a small voice you hear.

PAUSE

12

https://poets.org/poem/not-small-voice July 13, 2019

https://poets.org/poem/not-small-voice


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Song No. 213

(1)

i say. all you young girls waiting to live i say. all you young girls taking yo pill i say. all you sisters tired of standing still i say. all you sisters thinkin you won’t, but you will.

don’t let them kill you with their stare don’t let them closet you with no air don’t let them feed you sex piecemeal don’t let them offer you any old deal.

i say. step back sisters. we’re rising from the dead i say. step back johnnies. we’re dancing on our heads i say. step back man. no mo hangin by a thread i say. step back world. can’t let it all go unsaid.

(2)

i say. all you young girls [battered] at ten i say. all you young girls giving it up again & again i say. all you sisters hanging out in every den i say. all you sisters needing your own oxygen.

don’t let them trap you with their coke don’t let them treat you like one fat joke don’t let them bleed you till you broke don’t let them blind you in masculine smoke.

i say. step back sisters. we’re rising from the dead i say. step back johnnies. we’re dancing on our heads i say. step back man. no mo hanging by a thread. i say. step back world. can’t let it go unsaid.

PAUSE

13

http://tastzine.com/2019/03/08/song-no-2-by-sonia-sanchez/ July 13, 2019

http://tastzine.com/2019/03/08/song-no-2-by-sonia-sanchez/


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An Anthem14

Our vision is our voice We cut through the country where madmen goosestep in tune to Guernica. we are people made of fire we walk with ceremonial breaths we have condemned talking mouths. we run without legs we see without eyes loud laughter breaks over our heads. give me courage so I can spread it over my face and mouth. we are secret rivers with shaking hips and crests Come awake in our thunder so that our eyes can see behind trees. for the world is split wide open and you hide your hands behind your backs for the world is broken into little pieces and you beg with tin cups for life. are we not more than hunger and music? are we not more than harlequins and horns? are we not more than color and drums? are we not more than anger and dance? give me courage so I can spread it over my face and mouth. we are the shakers walking from top to bottom in a day we are like Shango involving ourselves in acts that bring life to the middle of our stomachs

14

https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-anthem-2/ July 13, 2019

https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-anthem-2/


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we are coming towards you madmen Shredding your death talk standing in front with mornings around our waist we have inherited our prayers from the rain our eyes from the children of Soweto. red rain pours over the land and our fire mixes with the water. give me courage so I can spread it over my face and mouth.

PAUSE


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For Sweet Honey in the Rock15

I'm gonna stay on the battlefield


I'm gonna stay on the battlefield til I die.




i had come into the city carrying life in my eyes

amid rumors of death,

calling out to everyone who would listen

it is time to move us all into another century

time for freedom and racial and sexual justice

time for women and children and men

time for hands unbound

i had come into the city wearing peaceful breasts and the spaces between us smiled

i had come into the city carrying life in my eyes.

i had come into the city carrying life in my eyes.

And they followed us in their cars with their computers

and their tongues crawled with caterpillars

and they bumped us off the road turned over our cars,

and they bombed our buildings killed our babies,

and they shot our doctors maintaining our bodies,

and their courts changed into confessionals

but

we kept on organizing

15

http://mandala.uga.edu/recon/convo-sonia-recon.php July 13, 2019

http://mandala.uga.edu/recon/convo-sonia-recon.php


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we kept on teaching believing loving doing what was holy moving to a higher ground

even though our hands were full of slaughtered teeth

but we held out our eyes delirious with grace.

but we held out our eyes delirious with grace.







come. i say come, you sitting still in domestic bacteria

come. i say come, you standing still in double-breasted mornings

come. i say come, and return to the fight.

this fight for the earth

this fight for our children

this fight for our life

we need your hurricane voices

we need your sacred hands

i say, come, sister, brother to the battlefield

come into the rain forests

come into the hood

come into the barrio

come into the schools

come into the abortion clinics

come into the prisons

come and caress our spines


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i say come, wrap your feet around justice

i say come, wrap your tongues around truth

i say come, wrap your hands with deeds and prayer

you brown ones

you yellow ones

you gay ones

you white ones

you lesbian ones

Comecomecomecomecome to this battlefield

called life, called life, called life. . . .







PAUSE


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Poem for July 4, 199416

(For President Václav Havel, the writer and activist who reluctantly became the President of Czechoslovakia)

1.

It is essential that Summer be grafted to bones marrow earth clouds blood

The eyes of our ancestors.

It is essential to smell the beginning words where Washington, Madison, Hamilton, Adams, Jefferson assembled amid cries of:

"The people lack of information" "We grow more and more skeptical" "This Constitution is a triple-headed monster" "Blacks are property"

It is essential to remember how cold the sun how warm the snow snapping around the ragged feet of soldiers and slaves.

It is essential to string the sky with the saliva of Slavs and Germans and Anglos and French and Italians and Scandinavians, and Spaniards and Mexicans and Poles and Africans and Native Americans.

It is essential that we always repeat: we the people, we the people, we the people.

2.

"Let us go into the fields" one brother told the other brother. And the sound of exact death

16

https://poets.org/poem/poem-july-4-1994 July 13, 2019

https://poets.org/poem/poem-july-4-1994


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raising tombs across the centuries. Across the oceans. Across the land.

3.

It is essential that we finally understand: this is the time for the creative human being the human being who decides to talk upright in a human fashion

in order to save this earth from extinction.

This is the time for the creative Man. Woman. Who must decide that She. He.

Can live in peace. Racial and sexual justice on this earth.

This is the time for you and me. African American. Whites. Latinos. Gays. Asians. Jews. Native Americans. Lesbians. Muslims. All of us must finally bury the elitism of race superiority the elitism of sexual superiority the elitism of economic superiority the elitism of religious superiority.

So we welcome you on the celebration of 218 years Philadelphia. America.

So we salute you and say: Come, come, come, move out into this world nourish your lives with a spirituality that allows us to respect each other's birth. come, come, come, nourish the world where every 3 days 120,000 children die of starvation or the effects of starvation; come, come, come, nourish the world where we will no longer hear the screams and cries of womens, girls, and children in Bosnia, El Salvador, Rwanda...AhAhAhAh AHAHAHHHHHH


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Ma-ma. Dada. Mamacita. Baba. Mama. Papa. Momma. Poppi. The soldiers are marching in the streets near the hospitals but the nurses say we are safe

and the soldiers are laughing marching firing calling out to us

i don't want to die, I am only 9 yrs old,

i am only 10 yrs old, i am only 11 yrs old

and i cannot get out of the bed because they have cut off one of my legs and i hear the soldiers coming toward our rooms and i hear the screams and the children are running out of the room

i can't get out of the bed

i don't want to die

Don't let me die Rwanda. America. United Nations. Don't let me die..............

And if we nourish ourselves, our communities our countries and say

no more hiroshima no more auschwitz no more wounded knee no more middle passage no more slavery no more Bosnia no more Rwanda

No more intoxicating ideas of racial superiority As we walk toward abundance we will never forget

the earth the sea the children the people

For we the people will always be arriving a ceremony of thunder waking up the earth


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opening our eyes to human monuments. And it'll get better it'll get better

if we the people work, organize, resist, come together for

peace, racial, social and sexual justice

it'll get better it'll get better.

PAUSE


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Catch the Fire17

(Sometimes I wonder: What to say to you now in the soft afternoon air

as you hold us all in a single death?)

I say— Where is your fire? I say— Where is your fire?

You got to find it and pass it on. You got to find it and pass it on from you to me

from me to her

from her to him

from the son to the father

from the brother to the sister

from the daughter to the mother

from the mother to the child.

Where is your fire? I say where is your fire? Can’t you smell it coming out of our past?

The fire of living…not dying The fire of loving…not killing The fire of Blackness…not gangster shadows. Where is our beautiful fire that gave light to the world? The fire of pyramids; The fire that burned through the holes of slaveships and made us breathe;

The fire that made guts into chitterlings; The fire that took rhythms and made jazz;

The fire of sit-ins and marches that made us jump boundaries and barriers; The fire that took street talk sounds and made righteous . . . raps.

17

https://soulbrotherspeaks.com/2013/05/10/sonia-sanchez-catch-the-fire/ July 13, 2019

https://soulbrotherspeaks.com/2013/05/10/sonia-sanchez-catch-the-fire/


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Where is your fire, the torch of life full of Nzingha and Nat Turner and Garvey and DuBois and Fannie Lou Hamer and Martin and Malcolm and Mandela. Sister/Sistah Brother/Brotha Come/Come

CATCH YOUR FIRE…DON’T KILL HOLD YOUR FIRE…DON’T KILL LEARN YOUR FIRE…DON’T KILL BE THE FIRE…DON’T KILL Catch the fire and burn with eyes that see our souls: WALKING. SINGING. BUILDING. LAUGHING. LEARNING. LOVING. TEACHING. BEING. Hey. Brother/Brotha. Sister/Sista. Here is my hand. Catch the fire…and live. live. livelivelive. livelivelive. live. live.

*Responsive Reading 576 A Litany of Restoration Rev. Marjorie Bowens-Wheatley *Hymn 1018 Come and Go with Me, African American Spiritual * Closing Words & Extinguishing the Chalice We extinguish this flame, but not the light of truth, the warmth of community, or the fire of commitment. We extinguish this flame, but not our aspirations to observe deeply and act meaningfully in this life. These we carry in our hearts until we are together again.

https://www.uuwf.org/the-life-and-legacy-of-rev-marjorie-bowens-wheatley/


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Closing Song Let us enter into silent reflection after we sing our closing song, Love Will Guide Us. (The words are in your Order of Service)

Love Will Guide Us, Sally Rogers

Love will guide us, peace has tried us, hope inside us will lead the way on the road from greed to giving

love will guide us through the hard night. Silent Reflection Let us sit together in a moment of silence as we take in the message and music of this service. * Please rise in body or spirit. # Latecomers may be seated.

other points of view shoreline unitarian universalist

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