How Full is your Glass? UUCM 7/25/21

You have heard it before: a glass can be seen as either half empty or half full.  Optimists rule!  Look on the bright side, check those clouds for a silver lining.  

Now, I really am an incurable optimist.  I can see gradual progress when others observe only stagnation.  During this pandemic, after months of only being able to hike in areas we could reach by foot, I was thrilled when we were finally allowed to drive to take hikes in slightly more distant open space preserves.  At the same time, I knew I had been very lucky because there were a couple of trails we could walk to from our house.  

But even though I am an out and proud optimist, I am bothered by some of the implications of the glass half-full/half-empty metaphor.  It implies that reality is merely in the eye of the beholder.   If we could only see it as half-full, then it will be.

This ignores the reality of inequality in this world.  Not all of us have half-filled cups, some are filled to overflowing while others are lucky to find some dampness lingering around the rim.  

How hard does the billionaire with multiple mansions have to work, if he works at all, in order to realize that his life is pretty darn good?  He can even take a ride in space. Compare that to the homeless vet, trying to be glad just to have a safe place to lay his head on a cold night.

Maybe everyone does have a glass that is half full, but some of the glasses are definitely different sizes.  Some have small thimbles and others have whole reservoirs.

With that understood, I still believe it is useful to be grateful for what you have.  Always wanting more of whatever it is, at least in material goods, is a trap that leads to a life of dissatisfaction.  Is the grass greener on the other side of the fence?  Maybe it is, but it is also good to enjoy eating the grass you have.  Ask a cow if you don’t believe me.  Don’t ask a factory cow, however, because they have no grass at all.  The humane treatment of animals is another sermon topic, but is something we should at least think about.

For most of us at least, there is some water in the glass, even in the midst of a drought, even if it is nowhere near half full.  Notice that water, even if it is only a drop.  If you are lonely, notice when a stranger smiles at you.  If your eyesight is going, learn to listen to the birds singing.  If you can’t get out on a trail, look up at the hills or walk in your neighborhood.

Notice that metaphorical water.  This is particularly important for social justice activists.  The arc of the universe may be bending toward justice, but it sure does take its time! 

Baby steps toward progress can be discouraging if our eyes are always focused on some ideal future where everyone is valued, where everyone really is entitled to a useful and fulfilling life, free from oppression, free of violence, free of war.  

It is also important for church volunteers and even ministers.  Change in churches is slow.  Sometimes it seems it is one step forward and another one back.  The same issues surface, seem to be resolved, and then surface again.  We can get frustrated and discouraged.  We should have more members by now.  We still don’t have enough volunteers.  There is never enough money.  We picture a religious community that is everything we want it to be, and no, we aren’t there yet.

But notice the water.  Notice the progress and notice the good things.  Notice the movements toward justice, toward peace, toward environmental sustainability.  Notice how good it feels to come to church, even via zoom.  Notice how it changes your life and how you look at yourself and the world.  

Do not let go of hope. Things do get better.  If we step back, we can see the truth in that statement.  But for things to continue to get better we need to keep plugging along and not fade in to despair.

We heard Holly Near’s: “I am willing”  earlier. One of my favorite lines from the song is: 

“I am open and I am willing


For to be hopeless would seem so strange


It dishonors those who go before us


So lift me up to the light of change”

If we are to honor those who have gone before us, we must not give up hope.  

As Unitarian Universalists we have made promises to each other and to the world.  We have agreed to affirm and promote our seven principles.  

How can we work for our 2^nd principle, justice, equity and compassion in human relations if we don’t have at least some hope in the goodness of the human spirit?  How can we have as a goal our 6^th principle, world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all if we don’t believe in our hearts that such a thing might be at least possible? 

“To be hopeless would feel so strange.”

As empty as our glasses can get, as dry and thirsty as our souls can become as we long for a better world, for ourselves, for our children, for everyone, there is still something that keeps us going.  A small drop of hope can be reflected in the sunlight of change.   There is a balm in Gilead.  There is help and hope around.  It is around us and inside of us.  

The terrible winds blow hot and ash can fill our skies, but there is a stream that flows within us from which we can drink our fill if only we dare lift the cup to our lips and let the light of the spirit in.  The glass might look as if it is bone dry empty, but there is water there.

Let me shift gears here a bit.  We have been thinking about when the glass is empty, but what about when it is running over?  What if you feel like you are trying to drink from a fire hose?  “My cup runneth over” is not always a good thing.  Even if you absolutely love everything you are doing, sometimes it can just be too much of a good thing.  Sometimes you need some time to rest and learn to pace yourself a bit better.  When I was a parish minister, and I loved that work, a sabbatical gave me the time to notice what else was around me in the world besides the overflowing cup of ministry.

Some of you may be feeling overwhelmed by work even if you love your job, or exhausted from caring for your family even though they bring such joy into your life.  Many of us quite simply try to do too much.  Sometimes it is important to set something aside and just not do it.  The laundry probably can wait.  

You can say no when someone asks you to do something that you just don’t have the time or energy to do.  Pour a little of the metaphorical water out.  Let some fall on the ground.  It isn’t a sin.  It is important for your spirit, for your sense of wholeness, to just do what you can, nothing more and nothing less.

So, how full is your glass?  Do you have enough or do you have too much?  

Another question, what is in your glass?  Is it something that will quench your thirst, or will it leave you still wanting something else?  Don’t drink soda when your body needs water.  Don’t look for money or cheap thrills when what you need most is love and a life that means something.

If your cup is full, pass it around and let someone else take a sip.  One of our hymns has the line, ”From you I receive, to you I give, together we share and from this we live.”  It is not just a song, it is a recipe for living. 

If your cup seems dry, use your tongue to lick around the edges.  Find what moisture is there.  It may not be enough and you might need to look around and discover where you might find something that might quench your thirst.  It just might be that neighbor with the overflowing cup who could use a hand and would love for you to help them.

One last thought, no matter how full your glass is, don’t hang onto it too tightly.  

Don’t be a miser with the water you have.  Don’t worry so much.  Enjoy what you have, let some of it spill, that is OK, there will most likely be more.  Again, we are talking metaphor here!

We are about to return to in person services, and I am optimistic that we will all embrace the recommended precautions that are designed to keep all of us safe.  Most of us are vaccinated now, but children are not yet eligible and there are others who for various reasons cannot get vaccinated yet. The virus is mutating and breakthrough infections are becoming more common even among those fully vaccinated.  We will need to stay nimble, to be open and willing to change as changing circumstances require.  

But this I know:  Our Unitarian Universalist faith can hold us. 

Our children can see more clearly
Our elders can be more wise
The winds of change will caress us
Even though they may burn our eyes

We all have a river flowing in our souls!

Blessed be!  Let’s sing together now, staying on mute.