Courage is our spiritual theme for October. Most dictionary definitions suggest that courage involves fearlessness, somehow being able to hold fear at bay.

If you Google “Courage is not the absence of fear,” the words of several famous individuals pop up:

Courage is not the absence of fear,

– “but the triumph over it.”  Nelson Mandela

– “but rather the assessment that something else is more important than fear.” Franklin Roosevelt.

– “but acting in spite of it.” Mark Twain.

Let me add one more of my own:

Courage is not the absence of fear, but the ability to journey with fear.

This fall, I have tried to limit my public comments about current US politics to suggesting that I believe the period until the next Presidential election will be particularly challenging. I have heard “amen” to that both publicly and privately.

I do not plan to dwell on politics now. I certainly will offer no commentary on candidates. One of the great benefits of the separation of church and state is that our church can be a place in which the divisiveness of our national politics does not dominate…though we inevitably bring our stress and our fear that are deepened by that divisiveness into the sanctuary with us every week.

However, I want to share a few thoughts about the state of our politics and the world our politics is creating, prompted in part by last week’s sermon and in part by a deepening anxiety I sense in members of our community and in myself.

Last Sunday, I spoke about vulnerability as a place out of which healing and strength can grow. I used Pema Chodron’s words and those of Rebecca Parker to make the point. I could have used Brenne Breen and many others. The virtue and value of vulnerability is being promoted heavily in progressive circles.

I also shared my reluctance to embrace suffering and vulnerability as a requirement for spiritual growth. Folks (and groups) that live on the margins, know vulnerability is a dangerous place, a place of justified fear.

There are two things I want to say:

First, there are reasons to fear, for all of us. Whether it is the volatility of the stock market for those privileged enough to be impacted, the possibility of recession made worse by trade wars, the new punishing policies against immigrants and trans individuals, the roll backs of protections for persons of color, or the damage to the environment that we are encouraging rather than ending…there is reason to fear.

And as the impeachment investigations go forward, as the current president responds with ever greater reactivity and as the political process moves closer to the elections next November…we are all vulnerable.

Now, there is even for me the fear that the very institutions we have relied on to help move us toward Beloved Community…the courts, the rule of law, the value of truth-telling, even the separation of powers…there is fear that those institutions may have been permanently compromised. We have never lived out our founding promise (All are created equal), but those institutions have enabled and supported our slow progress toward equity and inclusion. They may be damaged beyond full repair.

We cannot allow our vulnerability and our reality-based fear to paralyze us. That is clear. But we also cannot deny the truth of our fear and the fact of our vulnerability.

That is why the church, among a very short list of other institutions today, is so important as a source of hope. As a place where our fear can be named, where our moral compasses can be re-calibrated and where the perhaps naïve dream of Beloved Community can be kept alive.

We need to journey with our fear, not deny it, so that we can use it as a source of energy both to survive these days and to do what we can to shift our world toward the power of love.

As Richard Blanco writes in “ What I Know Of Country”:

“…to know a country, takes all we know of love.”

Blessings,

Bill