Seeking Ground October 13, 2013 Rev. Lissa Anne Gundlach Unitarian Church of All Souls

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1 Seeking Ground October 13, 2013 Rev. Lissa Anne Gundlach Unitarian Church of All Souls This holiday weekend, many Americans are getting outdoors--taking to the roads for peak foliage trips, apple and pumpkin picking, hay rides and my personal favorite-- apple-cider donuts. Some, like my mother and brother, had plans to enjoy autumn s bounty from the vantage points of our national parks and monuments. However, the now almost two-week old government partial shut-down is putting a damper on that treasured aspect of our collective life as a nation, with no clear end in sight. Since October 1 st, the majority of our 58 national parks, plus 333 national monuments and historic sites have been closed to the public. You might have heard a few stories about this particular aspect of the shutdown the group of veterans who pushed through the barricades on the World War II monument on the first day of closures, or the hundreds of cases of civil disobedience at the Grand Canyon and my beloved Acadia National Park people who have entered the parks illegally, some 1

2 who are receiving citations for their trespassing. Many states are struggling about whether to take on the expense to keep their parks and monuments open, and some, like our New York City Statue of Liberty, have been opened again with state funds, without knowledge of how long this political deadlock may endure. Of all of the rippling effects, from the thousands of furloughed employees whose jobs are at stake to the thwarted visitors, a surprising story emerged which I want to share with you the story of Chris Cox, the South Carolina chainsaw sculptor and citizen lawn mower slash janitor. According to the Washington Post, Cox, concerned that our National Mall would not be taken care of properly in the wake of the shutdown, took matters into his own hands to stand with the National Parks Service. He left his native South Carolina to come to the capitol a few days ago, bringing with him enough personally-subsidized gear to spruce things up a leaf blower from Home Depot, a used lawn mower from a thrift shop and his own metal handcart. Before the police asked him to leave, he had cleaned up the over flowing trash-cans, used his leaf blower to blow all of the trails, and cut 2

3 the grass on the Lincoln Memorial, gathering crowds along the way. When asked Why? Cox replied: The building behind me serves as a moral compass, not only for our country but for the world. And over my dead body are we going to find trash pouring out of these trash cans. At the end of the day, we are the stewards of these buildings that are memorials. Cox didn t take sides on the shutdown, but he was outraged by the closings of the National Monuments and parks, and had a message to share I m not here to point fingers, I only want to inspire people to come out and make a difference. I want to encourage my friends and fellow Americans to go to their parks and show up with a trash bag and a rake. Show up with a good attitude and a firm handshake for the US Park Service. Citizen-activists have always had a role in advocating for our national treasures, with or without the motivation of such extreme political circumstances. John Muir, the Father of our National Parks, was perhaps America s most noted naturalist and conservationist. He was the driving force behind persuading President Teddy Roosevelt to create the first national monuments through a presidential proclamation. He was instrumental in urging congress to establish Yosemite National Park, and created the Sierra Club to make the mountains glad. 3

4 No other figure has articulated so strongly such a profound need for conservation, for our planet and for our souls. Muir was a contemporary of Ralph Waldo Emerson - they met in 1871 to exchange ideas and discovered slightly different, but compatible philosophical approaches. Muir s physical adventurousness and political ambitiousness set him apart from the more intellectbound Transcendentalists. Like the Transcendentalists, he understood the transformational role of nature in our national character, and our spiritual hunger for wildness as a balm for the ever-growing chaos of modern life. His work in the creation of our national parks was the key way to ensure this balm remain accessible and preserved in perpetuity. In 1901, his book Our National Parks was published. In it, Muir wrote: The tendency nowadays to wander in wildernesses is delightful to see. Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, overcivilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity; and that mountain parks and reservations are useful not only as fountains of timber and irrigating rivers, but as fountains of life. Awakening from the stupefying effects of the vice of over-industry and the deadly apathy of luxury, they are trying as best they can to mix and enrich their own little ongoings with those of Nature, and to get rid of rust and disease. Briskly venturing and roaming, some are washing off sins and cobweb cares of the devil's spinning in all-day 4

5 storms on mountains. tracing rivers to their sources, getting in touch with the nerves of Mother Earth; jumping from rock to rock, feeling the life of them, learning the songs of them, panting in whole-souled exercise, and rejoicing in deep, long-drawn breaths of pure wildness. Muir s poetic vision is still legendary a century after his death, establishing the practice of conservation as a bedrock for American democracy. Historian and writer Wallace Stegner once declared National Parks America s best idea. In the Ken Burns documentary of the same name, writer and environmentalist Terry Tempest Williams says that they are: Not only our best idea but our highest ideal. Every time we walk into a national park, we make vows We make vows that we will live beyond ourselves, we make vows that we will not just care about short term gains but long term vistas. We remember the sweetness of engagement that this is the open space of democracy and it is as John Muir has reminded us, the beginning of creation. For all the bureaucracy, the red tape, for all the arguments about public policies our national parks are first and foremost places of love. Each American can look into their hearts and say these are our national parks. If our National Parks and monuments are symbol of open space where democracy flourishes, where connection to creation is available to all, regardless of wealth and status, what then does it mean that Congress in its intractable deadlock has effectively severed this connection, as well as to so many other vital 5

6 programs and services? Where is the collective stewardship and moral responsibility? The answers these days are far from clear. As I reflected and struggled this week in preparing for today, the prophetic daily prayers of the Senate Chaplain Barry Black resonated with me more than any partisan position. Save us from the madness. Deliver us from the hypocrisy of attempting to sound reasonable while being unreasonable. So much is unknown about when and how this current crisis will be solved. On its heels may come another of equal urgency. So much of that political foundation we have stood upon for so long is crumbling, the effects rippling out in ways we only are beginning to understand. So much keeps shifting beneath our feet. We as people of faith are seeking ground to stand upon to reclaim the best of our humanity. Another citizen activist, poet Wendell Berry writes in How to Be a Poet, There are no unsacred places; there are only sacred places and desecrated places. Like Chris Cox with his trusty leaf blower on the national mall, we must not let our sacred places, so essential to our democratic ideals become desecrated. So, too must not let this political madness shutter our hearts, our most sacred of places within. Today, I invite you to use the power of this place of love to gather up your resilience within a world 6

7 that often feels groundless. Let this be your holy ground, if even for today, if even for this moment. Remember to keep your heart open, to let it soften with kindness in the midst of conflict, to remember the sweetness of engagement. Remember to stay in service to our shared highest ideals, guided by our moral compass even when others cannot or refuse. Most of all get outside this holiday weekend and enjoy the wildness of this world. There is too much work yet to be done, too much of creation yet to flourish, too much brokenness to be made whole. Amen and Blessed Be 7