Dear God, Let Me Not Whine, Want to Shine or Recline 

Rev. Ron Sala

Unitarian Universalist Society in Stamford

April 14, 2002 

The morning’s readings:

Tao Teh King, XXIX by Lao Tzu (www.hermetic.com/crowley/libers/lib157.html)

“Desiderata” by Max Ehrmann (www.macedonia.co.uk/mcic/soulandspirit/desiderata/desidero.asp)  

I like tee shirts. I especially like the ones with provocative little sayings on them. Here are a few tee shirt slogans I’ve seen recently:

“The man who says “IT CAN'T BE DONE!” shouldn't interrupt the woman who is doing it.”

“I am the sunshine of my life.”

“I too have sinned.”

“No worries!”

“I think, therefore I am . . . I think?”

And, one of my favorites:

“Chocolate makes my clothes shrink.”

I had a favorite tee shirt growing up. I was bright orange and had bold, block letters exclaiming HOW’S YOUR ATTITUDE?

I had it custom made. I got the idea from a youth advisor in the church I grew up in. His name was Doug and he had a great attitude. He was in his 20s and was just the type of cool, young youth advisors that can really catch the imagination of a teenager—kind of the way our own Jon and Beth do. Doug played guitar and was into weight lifting and outdoor recreation. His apartment, where we sometimes had meetings was covered with inspirational posters. The HOW’S YOUR ATTIDUDE tee shirt was part of his whole lifestyle. Well, I saw his, and, being a malleable youth, I had my own made up. I think that tee shirt did improve my attitude while I had it on, when I remembered I had it on, at least. It kept my mind on the better parts of my nature. It reminded me to keep on trying. And its bright orange color was kind of cheery in and of itself.

I know that I’ve often turned to words to improve my attitude. You probably have too. Maybe you’ve put a favorite song on the radio to psych yourself up for an interview or date. Perhaps you’ve taken a book of poetry with you to the hospital to help you get through a difficult time. Perhaps you’ve hung an inspirational slogan on your wall—or maybe on your medicine cabinet to greet you as you stumble out of bed. Maybe you come to Poem Alley or the Stamford Urban Artists Program here to restore your spirit. For my part, I like start the morning with a short reading to set the tone for the day.

As Unitarian Universalists, we have inherited much of the identity from our Jewish and Christian traditions of being “people of the book.” In recent years, as a denomination, we’ve made many important steps beyond the spoken and printed word, such as getting into meditation, participating in rituals from earth-centered traditions, or taking up the medireview practice of walking the labyrinth, to name just a few. But we should not denigrate the power of words to shape our lives.

Some time ago, I was asked to write a sermon by the title of, “Dear God, Let Me Not Whine, Recline or Want to Shine.” The request came from Sally Bullock, a member of the Muttontown Unitarian Universalist Fellowship, where I used to serve as a consulting minister. She asked me for the sermon near the end of my time in Muttontown, and I didn’t get to it before I left. Sally said she would travel anywhere to hear it. [And I’m glad to see she’s with us this morning!]

I never forgot the request, but I really didn’t know what sermon might attach itself to the proposed title. Then, one day as I rode on a train, I was reading some of my favorite words from the first of our readings this morning and I knew it was time to write the sermon.

This morning, in our reading, we experienced two of the most famous pieces of inspirational or philosophical writing ever created. The first was a selection, chapter 29, from the Tao Te Ching, attributed to the Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu of 2500 years ago. We’re not really sure that Lao Tzu was a single individual. The name simply means “Old One,” or perhaps “Old Boy.” Other than the Bible, the Tao Te Ching is the most printed book in the world. A rough English translation of the title is The Book of the Way. I keep a copy of the Tao Te Ching with me in my Handspring Visor, translated by British esotericist Aleister Crowley. I like his translation for the ways it relates the mystical systems of the Eastern and Western worlds.

Lao Tzu leads the reader through a series of 81 short poems that seek to explain the Tao or the Way of Life. To the Taoist, the Way to live is to exist in harmony with nature. The one who has perfected this Way, or Tao, Lao Tzu calls, depending on translation, “the Sage,” “The King,” or “The Master.” In Crowley’s translation, this figure is referred to as “the wise man.”

One of the things I like about the Taoist tradition is its respect for the feminine. In recognition of this, Stephen Mitchell, in his recent translation of Tao Te Ching, uses refers to the Master with feminine pronouns.

The words that struck me on that train trip were, “Hence the wise man avoideth effort, desire and sloth.” “Hence the wise man avoideth effort, desire and sloth.” That, to my amazement, seemed to say the same thing as the phrase Sally had wanted me to preach on, “Dear God, Let Me Not Whine, Want to Shine, or Recline!”

“The wise man avoideth effort” on the one hand; “Let Me Not Whine” on the other. Why would the wise person avoid effort? Isn’t what we do in the world important? Shouldn’t we expend our efforts in honest pursuits?

The Taoist attitude of harmony with nature and acceptance of the way things are is sometimes misconstrued by us westerners as inaction. This is not the case. The Taoist writers stress the concept of wei wu, or “do without doing.” What does “do without doing” mean? There is a famous Taoist tale about a certain butcher known for his speed and skill. A sage takes his disciple to watch the butcher in action. His cuts are lightning quick and absolutely accurate. Whack! And the meat slides neatly away. Crack! And bones split at the joint. There was not the slightest wasted motion. He made it all look easy, though a less skillful butcher would have expended much time and effort to do the same job. The sage explains that the butcher follows wei wu, his does without doing. His follows his disciplined instincts and doesn’t let his mind get in the way of the natural movement of his body. In this way, the wise person avoids effort. “Dear God, Let Me Not Whine.”

Lao Tzu also tells us the wise person avoids desire. When we desire something that we don’t have, we run the risk of ignoring everything we do have. We get caught up in the future instead of being Here and Now. We think that we achieve the object of our desire, whether it be selfish or noble, that we will then be satisfied. It is then we lose the satisfaction that can be ours each moment. We look to the approval of others rather than to our own self-sufficiency. We want to dominate rather than appreciate. The wise person avoids desire. “Dear God, Let Me Not Want to Shine.”

Finally, Lao Tzu says, the wise person avoids sloth. When we do not find peace of mind in our work, we sometimes try to avoid it. But when we neglect a healthy discipline and honest work, we only increase the disharmony in our lives. C.S. Lewis pointed out in one of his books that it is the lazy schoolboy that ends up working harder than the diligent one in the hard run. This is because the serious student can learn just a little at a time, whereas the sluggard will have to expend more effort and get worse results as he tries to catch up at the end of the term. The wise person avoids sloth. “Dear God, Let Me Not Want to Recline.”

It’s funny how such similar ideas crop up in different centuries. Another example is our second reading this morning, “Desiderata.” Like the Tao Te Ching, there has been confusion about the authorship of this work. “Desiderata” is one of the most reproduced pieces of poetry in the world, appearing on countless plaques, posters, aprons, websites—you name it. The title, “Desiderata,” is the plural of the Latin word desideratum, “something desired as essential.” Very often, the poem has been copied with the legend that it was discovered in St. Paul’s Cathedral, Baltimore, dated 1692. Had he lived, the author of the poem, Max Ehrmann, would have been shocked to learn that the poem had been in existence for over 200 years before he wrote it in 1927! The confusion began in 1956, when the Rev. Frederick Ward Kates, then rector of St. Paul’s, Baltimore, copied a number of inspirational readings for his parishioners on church letterhead, which gave the date of the cathedral’s founding—1692. Some mistaken printer was the first to mistakenly pass on that “Desiderata” was a long lost manuscript. What’s more, since the title is Latin, the rumor spread that it was originally written in that language! Such difficulties from a text written so close to our own time should serve as a cautionary tale by fundamentalisms the world over that rely on the interpretation of texts not mere decades, but millennia, old!

On the other hand, it shouldn’t surprise us too much that Ehrmann’s “Desiderata” was mistaken by many people to be very old. The concepts are eternal, because in many ways the basic human condition doesn’t change. In Ehrmann’s words, “the world is full of trickery,” “life is full of heroism,” “love … is as perennial as the grass,” “many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.” “With all its sham and drudgery and broken dreams it is still a beautiful world,” he tells us. I don’t think any of that has changed in the last 2500 years.

But, though the human condition doesn’t change, human conditioning does. Human conditioning is all the change brought about in our actions and attitudes. It comes from our culture, our community, or family, our education. But it also, in significant ways, comes from ourselves and the choices we make. For instance, you chose to be here this morning. You will also choose how to apply your experience here in this service to your life. For we have many choices, and those choices change us. Each day we can choose, in the words, of “Desiderata,” to “go placidly amid the noise and haste,” “be yourself,” “take kindly the counsel of the years,” “be careful,” and “strive to be happy.”

I’m reminded of the story of a conversation between a woman and a toll taker on the Golden Gate Bridge. The woman attempted to sympathize with the toll taker. “You must hate having this job,” she says. “Doing the same thing over and over day in and day out.” (Perhaps she was also thinking of the lowly status of this menial job). “You must be bored out of your mind,” she continues, “I know I’d be!”

“Not at all,” says the toll taker. “I love my job. I like to think of this booth as my window office. I have a beautiful view of the bay. All day I can listen to my radio and feel the warm sun on my shoulders.”

That man had great attitude! Like the wise person, he had learned to avoid “effort, desire and sloth.” The prayer of his life, whether he was religious or not, was, “Dear God, Let Me Not Whine, Want to Shine, or Recline.”

You’ve probably heard another old saying, in response to “How are you?” “Well, I could complain, but what good would it do?” What good, indeed? Life’s hard enough without having to carry the extra weight of a negative attitude. I think everybody knows this, but from time to time, we need reminding. I know I do!

There is a nineteenth century Unitarian concept called “salvation by character.” It means that the essential thing in this life is how grow as people through our experience. A related concept is called, “self-culture.” Self-culture is what we do to better our character, to “grow our souls,” to learn and stretch and discover our true potential. Self-culture can take the form of music, art, prayer, athletics, etc. It can also be the culturing, that is, the growing, of ourselves through words that move and inspire and challenge us. Perhaps it is by putting a favorite phrase or poem on your wall. (My mom and dad, who are here this morning, can attest to the fact that a copy of “Desiderata” has been on the wall of my bedroom in their house since I was a teenager. Time and time again, I’ve turned to it for guidance and balance.) Maybe you commit some favorite words from a text from memory so that they become a part of you. Perhaps you like to write your own words that sustain yourself and others.

Unitarian Universalism declares that revelation is not sealed, that each of us have access to inspired insight and sacred wisdom, here and now, within us and among us.

I will close with a story told me by a man I met this week. I believe it proves that sometimes the most inspired words come to us at times and places we least expect. This man and his five-year-old son were out for some practice at a batting cage. The boy was doing well, wacking many balls as they were fired from the machine. Then, for a split second, he took his eye off the baseball. It slammed into his hand, causing intense pain. Tears welled in his eyes as he began to sob. Ice was brought to prevent swelling as the father tried to console his son. The boy never wanted to play baseball again. As the man searched for words to say, he saw an injured dog limping its way across the road. He pointed out the dog to his boy, how it was hurt but refused to give up, that it was going to cross the road and go on its way no matter what. The boy surely learned that day, about perseverance, and attitude, and choosing life in all pain and joy. And the father must have learned as well, remembering that day so clearly later, about how grace comes in strange disguises, and the best words don’t always come from a book.

Dear God, Let Us Not Whine, Want to Shine, or Recline. Amen.