May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts always be aligned with that greatest love from which we draw our strength, our freedom, and our very sense of being. Amen.

I struggled for weeks with how to start this homily about lamentation.

At first, I wanted to talk about similarities between Jeremiah’s prophecy and the apparent destruction of the world we are currently witnessing. I wanted to talk about how, if we fail to “return to the Lord, our God”, the world will continue to destroy itself over and over again. That is, if we fail to return to the Love that created us, the prophecy will continue to repeat itself. But, I am no prophet. Besides, this is a Unitarian Universalist congregation. Whether applied to the political climate, war, poverty, the environment, capitalism, bigotry, or any of the other pervading evils of humanity, we have heard that message so many times before.

Then, I wanted to talk about depression and mental illness. After all, the United Church of Christ holds this weekend to bring awareness to mental health issues every year. Why don’t we? This option was particularly appealing because we don’t often talk from this pulpit about mental and emotional illness until it is too late. That is, until yet another troubled spirit wields a weapon through a crowd of children or until yet another of our beloveds here has opted out of their own life. Even then, we usually give it an honorable mention and/or share our offering with a related organization that week. I feel close to this because depression is a part of my own life’s journey, as I know it is for many, many of you. We silently observe the signs in one another week after week – perhaps a strange bond, but a sacred one. We need to talk about this more. But, I am no pastor. Besides, this is a Unitarian Universalist congregation. I know it is easier for us to talk about gun control policy.

This, as I am sure you can tell, led me to want to talk about the role of the church. I, as is true of most of my colleagues, have opinions about the proper balance of outreach versus inreach, ministry of hearts versus ministry of hands, soul saving versus soul reeping. Anyone who has had any real conversation with me knows that I believe we have a lot of work to do right here, in our own home, with our own spirits, before we can do any lasting or meaningful work out in the world. And yet, I recognize that the world can’t wait for us to get our house in order. There is simply no time. We need to find a way to rebuild the temple. But, I am no priest. Besides, this is a Unitarian Universalist congregation. We can agree that the priesthood belongs to each and all of us, but we can’t seem to agree on what that means in any functional way. At least, not yet.

And so, being neither prophet nor pastor nor priest, I am left to explore lamentation with you from that which I am. I am an artist.

Doing a Google search for the definition of “lamentation” will lead you first to “a passionate expression of grief or sorrow”, which is good. But I like my own definition better, which is, “an outcry in response to one’s life’s or one’s society’s general state of fuckeduppedness”. Because it’s like Jason Rosenberg said to the choir in yesterday morning’s rehearsal, “this is not a time to be just a little upset, this is a time when you’re pissed.”

And so, what does this mean in our spiritual lives? What does this mean in our spiritual practice? Well, this is where being an artist can be especially helpful, I think. You see, in order to be a successful artist of any kind, one needs to be open to the possibility of feeling things and dedicated to expressing those feelings with raw honesty and full integrity. Good artists do it well, but this need not be an exclusive trait for artists. It can be useful for any of us. This may feel difficult because I know we like order and we try to avoid discomfort. I feel this when we shift around in our seats whenever the preacher gets personal or emotional unexpectedly. I feel it in our nervous laughter whenever someone shouts, always somehow from a mysterious back corner, “hallelujah!” or “amen!” I feel it when we grimace at the sound of a baby crying for a little longer than we think is civilized. Yes, I sit on this chancel almost every Sunday morning, a witness to our discomfort with expression. And I suppose that is okay in this context, as long as we are not forcing others around us to treat their need to be expressive like a pumpkin, carving it into “something acceptable”.

But, sometimes there is a need to cry out, regardless of who feels uncomfortable. Sometimes we need to lament publicly and loudly – like Jeremiah did, and like Thomas Tallis and Jason Rosenberg did after him. Sometimes we need to call out that which is terrible in our lives and in our societies and demand a change.

Lamentation didn’t stop with Jeremiah, nor with the many composers who have set his or other words to music. Lamentation continues today to guide us toward collective liberation, most notably I think through the use of social media. Now, before you complete that eye roll, let me remind you that without social media lamentation, there would be no Movement for Black Lives. There would be no #MeToo. Even the Unitarian Universalist Association would still be a country club with limited accountability.

I too am a social media lamenter, as many of you know. I know this has made some of you quite uncomfortable. I know this because you tell me and you tell Rev. Bill about just how uncomfortable it makes you. However, I also know that it has opened conversations between us that we would likely have never had otherwise. And, through these conversations, relationships have been deepened and perspectives on all sides have been broadened.

Lamentation, in whatever form it comes, can be powerful and healing. The practice of lamentation can save lives and offer a better future. It’s not always pretty. It’s often a big, noisy, public ugly-cry. Though, wriggling our way through the discomfort, each of us, our communities, and our world continue to inch closer and closer back toward God, back toward liberation, back toward love.

Will you now pray with me?That which is in us and all around us and which constantly draws us to our holiest selves, there is so much need for lamentation in our lives and in our world. Build in us a practice of lamentation that uses our freedom of expression toward the liberation of all humanity and of our own hearts. Draw us ever closer to love. Amen.

Topics: Liberation