Meditation: Based on readings in The New Union Prayer Book

Prayer cannot bring water to parched land, nor mend a broken bridge, nor rebuild a ruined city, but prayer can water an arid soul, mend a broken heart and rebuild a weakened will. In this spirit, let us pray:
For health and healing,
for labor and rest,
for the ever-renewed beauty of earth and sky,
for thoughts of truth and justice which stir us from our ease and move us to acts of goodness,
and for the contemplation of life which fills us with hope that what is good and lovely cannot perish.
Amen.

Reading: "Waitressing in the Sacred Kitchens" by Meg Barnhouse, from Rock of Ages at the Taj Mahal, available through the UUA Bookstore, 1-800-215-9076.

I love for a waitress to call me "Hon." It's comforting. She doesn't know me and I don't know her, but we fit into well-worn, ancient categories: I am the Hungry One and she is the One Who Brings Nourishment From the Unseen Source.

When I was younger, I worked as a waitress in Philadelphia and New Jersey. I learned useful things while serving food to strangers. I know how to rush around with my hands full, thinking about six things at the same time, which has stood me in good stead as the working mother of two small sons. I know that people are not at their best when they're hungry. That knowledge helps me to understand world events. If the citizens of the world were well fed, we'd have fewer wars and less mayhem.

The most helpful thing I grasped while waitressing was that some tables are my responsibility and some are not. A waitress gets overwhelmed if she has too many tables, and no one gets good service. In my life, I have certain things to take care of: my children, my relationships, my work, myself, and one or two causes. That's it. Other things are not my table. I would go nuts if I tried to take care of everyone, if I tried to make everybody do the right thing. If I went through my life without ever learning to say, "Sorry, that's not my table, Hon," I would burn out and be no good to anybody. I need to have a surly waitress inside myself that I can call on when it seems everyone in the world is waving an empty coffee cup in my direction. My Inner Waitress looks over at them, keeping her six plates balanced and her feet moving, and says, "Sorry, Hon, not my table."

One of the hardest lessons for me is learning how to blend my individuality with my role. I'm still learning this as a minister and a therapist. I need a certain spiritual strength and a lessening of ego before I can take on a role and let people relate to me in my function as a therapist or a minister rather than as a fascinating woman with a birthday, a favorite color, a song I can sing better than it is on the album, and cool stories of travels to foreign lands. It's not easy to lose myself that way and I'm still not good at it.

When I was in seminary, all of us were struggling with how to blend and balance our individuality within the role of minister. We found that most people have a strong idea of how a minister should look and talk and behave. I can join a new group of people, talking and laughing, being normal, and the moment they find out I'm a minister the laughter dies as they check back over the things they've said in front of me, trying to remember if they've sworn or sinned or said something politically incorrect. It's hard. It makes some ministers want to moon the group. That would banish those burdensome expectations.

There are times, though, when people need help to draw strength and comfort from the Spirit. As a minister, I'm the one who is there at the hospital or the funeral home. I'm the one who is there in my office when the family comes hoping for peace and clarity.

It is my job to bring nourishment to hungry souls from the sacred kitchens where the Spirit cooks up healing and comfort. It doesn't really matter at that moment when my birthday is, or that purple is my favorite color. What matters is the function I perform when I stand in the broad stream of history and symbol, faith and mythology, and let something larger than myself work through me, through the role I'm filling. What matters is that I'm smelling the rich aromas of hope and joy rising from the dishes I hold in my arms, and I know what it means to the people who need it.

Come sit down, Hon. Are you hungry?

"Soul Hunger"

On March 18th we are all invited to attend a spiritual banquet, a "Soul Food Retreat". During the last committee council meeting, I learned that in March this congregation would focus on relieving hunger in the wider community, through increased donations of food to the Hopps Memorial Church food pantry. The juxtaposition of a Soul Food Retreat during a month of social action work focused on relieving physical hunger got me to thinking a bit about hunger and the soul. I've often used the phrase "feeds my soul" to describe why I come to church, enjoy planning worship services, and remind myself to live with an openness to spiritual awareness. But even though I've said participating "feeds my soul", I had neglected to think about what kind of soul hunger exists to await the soul food I receive.

Still, when presented with this perfect opportunity to explore what soul hunger means, I thought I was too busy to prepare a sermon on the topic for today. Just like many of you, I am over-scheduled and often over-extended. I didn't think I had the time to do the self-reflection necessary for answering the question.

Instead, I wanted a quick fix - some "Fast Soul Food" if you will. I searched for a ready-made sermon about "Soul Hunger" that the Religious Services Committee could present. Not finding any, I was tempted to substitute another sermon topic in place of the nagging question in my mind - just what is a soul hunger that is fed by soul food? I found a sermon about a Beggar's Bowl on the world-wide-web. It's a good sermon. You'd like it. I liked it - but I realized I couldn't ignore that voice inside of me that said, "a sermon on a Beggar's Bowl is not a sermon on Soul Hunger". I was instantly reminded of the results when substituting an undesired food for one being craved.

I don't know if you've ever experienced this for yourself, but I was thinking about when I've had a craving for something, say chocolate ice cream. Only I don't have any on hand. It's the middle of the night. I don't want to get dressed and head out into the snow to go to Wegman's to buy some ice cream. So I look in the fridge and there is a perfectly fine bowl of pudding. It's butterscotch. I like butterscotch. But it isn't chocolate ice cream. I consider getting dressed after all, only now it is snowing harder. I reach for the attractive butterscotch pudding. It's creamy and cold - but not frozen and it doesn't taste like chocolate. I eat the rest of the pudding and am singularly unsatisfied. I didn't want just anything that was sweet, or creamy, or tasting like butterscotch (which I like!). I wanted chocolate ice cream. I wasn't starving and in need of any food available. I had a need to experience the taste and texture of chocolate ice cream. It's so simple - so why did I eat butterscotch pudding?

Which is why I decided to write this sermon. Because even when I wanted to save some time and avoid some "unnecessary" self-reflection - my soul was hungering and it was also giving me the answers to my question. Plus, I didn't want to hear my soul grumbling any more about not getting chocolate ice cream and being forced to subsist on butterscotch pudding.

What I said earlier is true. Planning worship services feeds my soul. And writing a sermon is something that scares me a little, but also gives me a disciplined way of examining my own beliefs and the beliefs of others. I love the opportunity to write a sermon, and I was denying myself, my very soul, by logically saying I was too busy to do it. So my soul, having no sense of pride, did a very poor impersonation of the people-eating plant, Audrey, from Little Shop of Horrors and said, "Feed me, Susan!"

What is soul hunger? It is what drives you to do what you need to do, even when you think you'd rather not. It is what reminds you to be open to the joy in life, even when your heart is in shreds. Soul hunger is what leads you to seek peace in the midst of busyness or in the depths of despair. Soul hunger is that inner radar that keeps you on course - or warns you when you've steered off course. Soul hunger reminds you to attend to your own tables and warns you not to take on more tables than your own Inner Waitress can handle. But soul hunger needs to be fed with soul food in order to keep working properly.

Meg Barnhouse shared a profound insight about people not being at their best when they are hungry. A hungry soul that is not fed runs the risk of soul starvation. If you are in the midst of soul-starvation you want absolutely any spiritual or religious fix. UFO's and comet tails are edible to a starving soul. As are doomsday prophets. Starving souls are in danger of expiring completely - leaving life without ever experiencing the joy of truly living.

But, soul hunger is not soul-starvation. Soul hunger is not open to just any religious or spiritual experience. It is only seeking the experience, or experiences, that will complete it; just like a food craving is only satisfied by the food desired. Someone with soul hunger may not consciously know what she or he desires, but their soul does know. And our souls are not satisfied with a steady diet of junk food. A doomsday prophet may be acceptable to a starving soul, but to a hungry soul it looks like a month-old bagel with green fuzz growing all over it.

Rather than ingesting garbage, a hungry soul will sample a spiritual smorgasbord, digesting each nibble and bite until it finds the tastes it is seeking. A little bit of Oprah, a dash of yoga, a smattering of Hinduism, Paganism, Christianity, Judaism, Taoism, a handful of drumming and a pinch of sage. Mix well and simmer in a cast iron cauldron. Some hungry soul will find the combination delicious. Another soul will immediately check into a convent retreat center to get rid of the taste. Hungry souls are adventuresome and willing to try new things, but they don't insist on finishing everything on their plate before savoring dessert.

People experiencing soul hunger will find a healthy variety of different soul foods available. For some, soul food is found in the comforting presence of a minister during times of great joy or distress. For others, soul food is digested in the mindful meditation they practice wherever and whenever they can - in the car at a traffic light or waiting in line at the grocery store or even, in that gourmet kitchen of the soul, in their own carefully designed meditation room at home. Prayers offered in thanksgiving or questioning really can water an arid soul, and millions of people sustain their souls with daily prayers. Many of us find soul food on a Sunday morning in church. Our soul hunger wants us to be present, gathered together to be both challenged and comforted. When fed with its preferred soul food, our souls are pleased, eager to encounter all that life has to offer. A well-fed soul is not afraid of death, or sorrow, or disappointment. And it is equally up to the task of celebrating new life, and joy, and great expectations.

All too often, though, soul food is treated like a special dinner out - something to experience once in a while but nothing we could create at home on a daily basis. And this misses the point of what real soul hunger is all about. A hungering soul is a soul demanding to live - each and every day, with every breath, in each of our connections with others and in our innermost selves. Souls enjoy the occasional spiritual retreat, including in church on a Sunday morning, but they also crave the constancy of a life lived fully.

We are responsible for discovering what our souls hunger for and then providing it on a daily basis. For some it is time for quiet reflection; for others it is working for social justice. Some need communion with nature while others commune with family and friends. There are some souls that need to create with their hands, while others have a desire to create with their minds. Some need to sing. Some need to laugh. Some need to cry. Some have souls that demand action - they hunger for the thrill of a downhill slalom or to dance around a fire circle until the sun rises. For most of us it is some combination of all of these things, plus even more, to be soulfully alive.

In The Soul of Sex, Thomas Moore describes the joy our souls experience through sensual living. The erotic becomes a pathway to the soul - and is also one of the more universal ways to feed soul hunger. A starving soul might abuse sex, but a hungry soul seeks to give and receive pleasure - to be fully alive and aware and intimate. The phenomenon of "skin hunger" - the need to touch and to be touched - may well be the physical response of soul hunger. I know my soul seeks that kind of affection - a clasped hand or a friendly hug. So if any of you want a hug after the service, my soul is ready and willing to connect with your soul.

In that regard, soul hunger is like a beggar's bowl. For those of you who are not familiar with a beggar's bowl, some Buddhist nuns and monks use begging bowls to get their daily food. Those who put food into the bowl do so because they believe they will be blessed. The monks and nuns receive the food with trust that it will sustain them and not harm them. For all concerned it is a religious experience. It takes a community of adherents to keep this act of trust alive. A Buddhist nun in Syracuse would not find the use of a beggar's bowl helpful. It would not feed either her stomach or her soul hunger. Instead of a beggar's bowl she would need to practice mindfulness in other ways. Her soul will let her know if a visit to the Zen center and keeping full awareness on the task before her is the kind of soul food she needs. And when her soul hunger is attended to, her body, spirit, mind and heart will all be cared for.

And that brings me to another thing my soul taught me while I puzzled over what soul hunger is, and is not. Our souls aren't separate from our bodies, our spirits, our minds, or our emotions. Our souls bind all aspects of ourselves into one being. When you look at someone, really look at them, you are seeing their soul. And souls hunger to see and to be seen. When you touch someone, you are touching their soul. And souls hunger to touch and to be touched. When you listen to someone, you are hearing their soul. And souls long to listen and to be heard. When you feed someone, you are feeding their soul, and souls need to be fed.

In this church building, on March 18th, people will gather to deliberately feed their souls. Some will meditate. Others will dance. Some will use their hands to touch the world and change it. Others will discover a new, yet unknown pleasure for their soul. Most will meet someone new and begin to create new bonds of friendship, as well as strengthening bonds with people they already know. All will be led here by a soul hunger. There may even be someone experiencing soul-starvation. If so, I hope we can be a safe place for their soul to begin to heal, to find what it hungers for, and to be satisfied with what it needs. Because what the starving soul needs is the same as the hungry soul - for all of us to see it, to touch it, to hear it, and to feed it. May it be so.

Blessed Be.

Benediction, adapted by Peggy Sperber Flanders from "The Bread We Share" by Rudolph Nemser

The nourishment we share is sacred.
Grain and the gifts of the earth give life.
The friendship we share is sacred.
All gatherings when people meet and touch, celebrate life.
The laughter and the tears we share are sacred.
Joy and sorrow that rise from love are springs of life.
The stillness we share is sacred.
In this place there is a haven for the spirit to nurture life.
For bread, for friends, for joy and sorrow, for the comfort of quietness:
for the knowledge our senses bring:
Let us ever be grateful and caring.