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May 2007

Quest Archives

“War may sometimes be a necessary evil. But no matter how necessary, it is always an evil, not a good. We will not learn to live together in peace by killing each other's children.”
—Jimmy Carter

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HardiesWar, Violence and Memory

BY ROBERT M. HARDIES, SENIOR MINISTER, ALL SOULS CHURCH, UNITARIAN, WASHINGTON, DC

There will be many parades this Memorial Day Weekend, and images from those parades will be splashed across the front pages of the next day's papers. But there's one parade of soldiers whose pictures you won't see...tomorrow or any other day. The parade I'm thinking of takes place right here in Washington, DC, every few days or so. Its route begins at Andrews Air Force Base and winds around the Beltway before proceeding down 16th Street and stopping at the back door of the Walter Reed Medical Center . Its convoy consists of only a few military buses and vans.

The procession I'm describing is the parade of wounded soldiers returning from the war in Iraq . The reason you won't see photos of this parade, is that the government of the United States of America doesn't want you to. This procession always takes place at night, under the cover of darkness, when no one's paying attention. Not only are the convoys at night, but photographers are prohibited from taking pictures of the wounded soldiers as they are brought to Walter Reed, just as they are forbidden from photographing the flag-draped caskets filled with dead soldiers that arrive every few days at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware.

It used to be that a war had to pass what one general called "The Dover Test." Which is to say, politicians had to gauge whether public support for the war would be strong enough to endure the images of dead and wounded soldiers returning from battle. But since the first Gulf War, the military has forbidden such photos.

Recently, as a result of a Freedom of Information Act lawsuit, the military was forced to release its own photos of caskets arriving at Dover . When the images were released, some proponents of the war called the lawsuit and the photos, "anti-war propaganda." They said the images give comfort to the enemy. They suggested that documenting the full story of war is, somehow, unpatriotic.

I think it says volumes that the military is afraid to let war speak for itself. That they're afraid to let us see pictures, that they're unwilling to give us civilian body counts. I think these war proponents fear that if the truth got out about the cost of war, we might be forced to consider that war just isn't worth it.

Memorial Day weekend is the time each year when the United States remembers and retells the story of what it means to go to war. What I'm suggesting here is that it matters deeply how that story is told. What part of the story is remembered. For if war remains a viable foreign policy option, then when my country makes the decision to go to war it must make that decision with a full and accurate sense of war's benefits and its costs. It matters what we remember.

There's a danger in telling only part of the story about war. That danger is revealed in Chris Hedges's 2002 book, War is a Force That Gives Us Meaning. Hedges was a war correspondent who was embedded with troops in many different battles. In the book, Hedges testifies personally to war's power to give our lives meaning and purpose. To create a sense of pride and accomplishment. He notes the strong bonds of fellowship and mutual care among soldiers. He documents how having a common enemy builds a strong sense of community. He chronicles how death is given meaning when set in the context of war: "She died in the line of duty." "He perished for a good cause." Purpose, a caring community, meaning in death: these are things that most of us need in life.

They're good and important things. In fact, they're among the things that religious communities provide us. And war gives them to us, too. But Hedges notes something else about war. He says there's a kind of addictive quality to war. The high stakes and fast pace of combat create an adrenaline rush, he says, that is not unlike that of taking certain kinds of drugs. Like other "highs," the rush sharpens certain of our senses and dulls others. It distorts our view of reality.

When I read about that adrenaline rush, it reminded me of something that happened some months ago when I traveled with our youth group to Boston . One night we took the kids bowling, and in part of the bowling alley there was a video arcade. At the end of the night when we were gathering up the kids, not surprisingly we had to go scout them out in the arcade. Way in the back I found one of our boys playing a simulated war game. To play the game, he sat in an enclosed compartment— as if he were in a tank—seemingly protected and invulnerable. Meanwhile, he shot and killed soldiers who ran across the screen in front of him. The boy was shooting with great gusto and excitement.


His eyes looked almost frenzied. And when the game ended, revealing how many points he had received for each person he killed, the boy flashed a small smile of accomplishment.

War can be a force that gives us meaning only when we can think of killing an enemy soldier as "mission accomplished," rather than seeing it as killing someone else's parent or child. War can be a force that gives us meaning only when dead civilians and destroyed culture are referred to as "collateral damage" rather than dead human beings and destroyed culture. If the full story of war were to be told, then the meaning it could give our lives would quickly degenerate into brutal slaughter and senseless loss of life, land and culture. It matters that we remember the whole truth about war. Not just part of it.

For a nation to tell the truth about war, its citizens must tell their truths about war. Those who know war must bear witness to its legacy in their lives. They must tell the good and the bad. Because what we remember about war affects our attitudes and decisions about war. Listen to this story, taken from Rebecca Parker's book, Proverbs of Ashes:

The social concerns committee wanted the church to raise public awareness of the growing stockpile of nuclear weapons in the world. Mary Brown suggested that we place posters on the city's fleet of metro buses. The posters would depict the increase in stockpiles of nuclear weapons since the end of World War II. Not everyone thought this was a good idea, especially the older members of the church.

The topic came up for the third time at the women's Bible class that week. Now, the women's bible class had been meeting weekly in that church for nearly 40 years. These women had come of age and grown old together, had buried husbands and children and friends…. When the topic came up again, though, the women grumbled about how the church was spending too much of its energy working on political issues, and besides, why should we be raising questions about military strategy? It wasn't our place. Myrtle called a halt to the conversation. "Just a minute," she said, "how can you say we have no place having an opinion about this?" She looked around at the women in the group.

"Every one of us here knows that our men came home from World War II broken," she said quietly. "We've spent our lives holding together the pieces that war broke. We did our best to take care of them as well as our children. And never speaking of it, always saying it was a good war. We know there is no such thing as a good war." There was quiet in the room as one by one the women silently nodded, remembering. After that, the women in the class supported Mary Brown's project. The church printed the posters and filled the city's buses with them.

Accurate memory can lead to responsible action.

Both of my grandfathers fought in World War II. They were of the same generation as the ladies in the Women's Bible Class. I've seen pictures of them from their time in the service. Those pictures were displayed proudly in our house. They both look handsome in their smart uniforms, with their square jaws and their thick heads of hair. Seeing those black and white pictures makes me swell with pride. My Grandpa Davis, who died just a few years ago, never talked about his experience in the war. If you asked him about it, he'd tell you he didn't want to talk about it. And he wasn't the kind of guy you pressed on an issue he didn't want to talk about.

My Grandpa Hardies died before I was born. I relied on my grandmother to tell me stories of him. Every once in a while she'd take me into her bedroom, open the top drawer of her bureau, and take out my grandfather's war medals. She always spoke proudly of his service in the Pacific Theater. He worked as a medic, attached to a chemical mortar battalion. Apparently, he saw a lot of carnage in those hospital tents.


My grandmother never told me the other side of the story. I had to learn it from others. The story of how my grandfather returned home from the war a changed man. An alcoholic. A gambler. The stories of his uncontrollable rages. And his abuse. My grandfather died of a heart attack at age 49.

Now, some will undoubtedly say to me, "Young man, it is disrespectful for you to tell those stories about your grandfather," just as some say it is aiding the enemy to show pictures of flag-draped coffins. But friends, this is Memorial Day.

If we're going to have a day to remember war, then let's remember all of it. Let's not tell lies to ourselves.

War is too serious a thing to deceive ourselves about. I am not a pacifist. And the Unitarian tradition is not a pacifist tradition. We have always been squarely in what is called the "just war" tradition—a tradition that recognizes that war is evil, but that sometimes history requires war if the reason be just and the choice for war be a last resort.

Coming out of this tradition, it is all the more important that we know the war's full story.

On this Memorial Day, let us commit ourselves to telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth about war, so that when the time comes for peace, we may have resources to stand up for peace. And when the time comes for war, that we make that choice only with a sober sense of its cost to humanity.

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A Memorial Day Tribute

There are many stories as to the actual beginnings of Memorial Day. The first official observance was May 30, 1868, when flowers were placed on the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery . Since World War I, Memorial Day has been commemorated as a day to honor all who have died while serving in the United States military.

We pause to express appreciation to those who have served and who continue to serve in our nation's armed forces. There are literally hundreds of UUs in the U.S. armed forces today, and chances are, the individual sharing your Sunday pew was once in uniform. Many of our veterans continue to carry physical and emotional scars from their wartime service.

War is a horror. May we never use Memorial Day as a time to glorify militarism or the destructiveness of this human aberration we call war. We yearn for peace and we pray for the day when nations pursue understanding instead of resorting to violence in resolving disputes.

May we honor the lives of those who have died and may we reach out in love to our living veterans and their families.

—Chaplain (Colonel) F. Vernon Chandler, with 32 years experience as a UU military chaplain, Eberstadt, Germany

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UU Voices from the Military

Military Pen Pals

penNeed a note from home? Looking for a way to support UUs in the military? CLF member Sparrow F. Alden is willing to help make connections between CLF members serving in the military and supportive non-military CLFers. If this is a ministry that calls you, and to which you can commit, please get in touch with Sparrow. Send your name, your preference for mail or email, and contact information via email to: Sparrow F. Alden or via the CLF office.

This memorial day we wanted to share with you some words gleaned from Unitarian Universalists who are part of the United States armed forces. The CLF sponsors the UUMIL email list which is open to all UUs in the military and their families. You can sign up for UUMIL at www.clfuu.org/lists.html.

An Ongoing Memorial Day

About once a month here in the Pentagon the Wounded Warriors are escorted through from Walter Reed. Just a very few weeks before, they were doing what they had signed up to do, and now they, and their loved ones, will carry the effects of that for the rest of their lives. It is now our turn to do what we said we would do when we determined it was necessary to send them; to keep up our end of the deal.

I make it a point to turn on the last ten minutes of every episode of The NewsHour With Jim Lehrer. Not every night, but as the information is released, they run in silent tribute the pictures and names of those we sent, who did what they said they would do. They gave all. I figure I can give ten minutes as a last tribute to the lives cut short.

I ask that you all be grateful for what you have, and for what you don't have. Use your freedoms to express your opinions, whatever they are. So many gave so much so that you can. To remain silent is to make their sacrifices meaningless.

—Ron Kellis 27 years, US Army
Alexandria, Virginia
posted to the UU Military list

What do I teach my children?

Our son faced very strong Christian peer pressure at age 11 at Ramstein Air Base. It was very hurtful to be new and socially rejected, told day in and out he was going to hell. He shed more than a few tears over it.


My husband and I talked a lot at home with him, and to each other in front of him, about what we do believe, and why, as well as what we don't believe and why not. That strength of beliefs born of reason and experience, together with
respect for Judeo-Christian tradition, gave him the verbal and emotional resistance to stand up to the damnation crowd at school.

Eventually, most of them were able to reach the "agree to disagree" point and get along. When my son would speak up in class in favor of the "theory" of evolution, he'd just look at some of these kids with their wide eyes and laugh, "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm going to hell."

—Sheri Byrd
Vancouver, Washington
posted to the UU Military list

War Games

American flag and cannonAs part of my new job, I've been part of a lot of discussions about networking simulation. For example, networking Harrier and Hornet simulators with command and control simulators, artillery simulators, Forward Air Control Simulators, etc., to provide a realistic mission simulation for everyone involved.

It's a very good idea for improving training, saving money, and reducing risk.

So it occurs to me—why not extend this idea and include the "bad guys?" If we were to provide networked simulators to our enemies worldwide, then we could do the whole combat thing virtually, and really save a lot of money and lives. On all sides.

And with all the coordination required to set up this virtual combat, maybe we'd all realize that we have more in common than we thought, and there's no "them" — only "us" sharing this one small planet. Maybe we'd decide to ditch our attachment to conflict (real or virtual) and work together for the betterment of all the world.

A nice thought, but I'm not holding my breath.

—Gregory Rouillard
Northern Virginia
posted to his blog

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Looking for God in the Constitution

LutonBY PETER J. LUTON, MINISTER, EAST SHORE UNITARIAN CHURCH, BELLEVUE, WASHINGTON

"We forgot." That's what Alexander Hamilton said when asked why the Philadelphia Convention, which drafted the Constitution of the United States of America, had not recognized God in the Constitution. "We forgot."

But they did not forget. They left God out quite consciously. The American Constitution does not mention God—not once—not even in Deist metaphors.

The Constitution explicitly forbids religious tests for holding public office. The Constitution intentionally omits phrases like "so help me God" from the oath that the president takes when assuming office. So let us not think we are changing anything or secularizing America when we keep Church and State apart.

The United States of America is not a Christian nation. This country was not founded as a political expression and physical manifestation of faith in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. The men—and it was men—who debated the principles of liberty and human rights, who envisioned a form of government accountable to the people governed, who consciously and deliberately established the separation of Church and State, these men were not interested in theocracies or enacting laws that enforce theological opinions. They were creating a liberal—as in free, infused with liberty—democratic government. They intended, in the words of the Preamble of the Constitution, "to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, ensure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity."

The liberal democratic political philosophies of the founders were grounded in humanistic, rational Enlightenment philosophy and theology; that is to say, Deism informed their worldview. As David L. Holmes, professor of religious studies at the College of William and Mary, writes in The Faiths of the Founding Fathers:

Deism influenced, in one way or another, most of the political leaders who designed the new American government. Since the founding fathers did not hold identical views on religion, they should not be lumped together. But if census takers trained in Christian theology had set up broad categories in 1790 labeled "Atheism," "Deism and Unitarianism," "Orthodox Protestantism," "Orthodox Roman Catholicism," and "Other," and if they had interviewed Franklin, Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison and Monroe, they would have undoubtedly placed every one of these six founding fathers in some way under the category of "Deism and Unitarianism."

So let's be clear…George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and James Monroe, that is to say the first five presidents of the United States, were Deists and Unitarians in their religious perspective.

Thomas Paine was the quintessential American Deist. Paine's credo, found in his book Age of Reason, published in 1795, is a good summary of core Deist commitments. He wrote:

I believe in one God, and no more; and I hope fervently for happiness beyond this life. I believe in the equality of man and I believe that religious duties consist in doing justice, loving mercy and endeavoring to make our fellow-creatures happy.

Deists believed in Nature's God, which created humanity with free will, in the Supreme Author, the clock-maker God, which set the earth spinning and left it to us to sort things out through the use of our reason and our moral insight.

In their writings, the Deist Founders spoke of God in distinctly non-Christian, non-Trinitarian terms, such as Nature's God or the God of Nature, the Creator, Merciful Providence, Universal Parent, Great Author, the one-and-only God, and Divine Goodness. They did not use the typical orthodox Christian references to God as Almighty God, Lord, Lord God, God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, or God of the Gospels. Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, Adams, Franklin, Washington all spoke of Jesus as an exemplary man, a teacher, a guide and model of ethical living. They avoided references to Jesus as Christ, Redeemer, resurrected Christ, Savior, or the Lamb of God.

With varying degrees of regularity the Founders attended Sunday worship services. But someone with a Deist perspective would naturally call into question any teaching or belief of Christianity that could not be reconciled with human reason. As a consequence, many of the founders chose not to receive communion when it was offered. George Washington's Anglican Bishop was particularly miffed that the president of the United Sates would rise and walk out of the service after the sermon, before the communion was offered. He was not alone among the congregation in doing this. It was fairly common practice.

Moreover, Anglican Founders like Washington, Madison and Monroe consciously declined the opportunity to receive the sacrament of confirmation when it became available to them. Through the sacrament of confirmation, Christians affirm the creedal commitments made on their behalf at baptism.

Their decision not to seek confirmation is strong evidence of their belief in something other than orthodox Christianity.

Thomas Jefferson's Deist perspective permeates his famous words:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.

Underlying these assertions are liberal religious convictions about human nature, humanity's relationship to the Divine, and humanity's responsibilities here on earth.

For Jefferson, Franklin and the rest, human beings were not inherently sinful, corrupt and degenerate creations. Human beings were not the lost and fallen creatures of Calvinism and Catholicism. "No!" they declared. "We are endowed by our Creator with reason and moral capacity and love."

Like Dr. Benjamin Rush, a Universalist and a signer of the Declaration of Independence, the Founders believed that virtue is a function of our human ability to make moral choices, and that the exercise of virtue depends upon liberty. Virtue grows from faith and reason. Our civil society must be grounded in the human capacity for ethical decision-making and the ability to look beyond personal interest to the welfare of others—to the welfare of the entire community.

quillThe Founders were visionaries and idealists, but they weren't blind to the seduction of selfishness, greed and power. They knew that humanity is not perfect. They turned to the collective wisdom of people in conversation, discussion and debate to moderate the uncivil and ego-driven excesses to which we are liable. They believed we have within us the capacity to learn and understand what is good, true and just. It is a belief which is at the heart of historical Unitarianism, and remains at the center of Unitarian Universalism today.

Governments, therefore, are established not to control and correct people, but to provide people with a just and civil order of society in which we may exercise our freedom and discover what we, as individuals and as a community, believe to be in the best interest of us all. But always, always protecting the integrity and rights of the minority. For the Founders were as wary of the tyranny of the majority and the rule of the mob as they were of the tyranny of the King or the Church. People of good and free will can work together to create equality and peace in the land.

The notion that human beings possess free will and moral conscience is a profoundly religious assertion. The Founders' political philosophies were rooted in this faithful commitment to human worth. Through our responsible exercise of liberty we grow in virtue and understanding. This Enlightenment ethic is the basis for liberal, democratic government.

The Founders understood that religious communities are critical in nurturing and inspiring people to use their moral capacity. They were quite clear that religious communities provide important voices within a free and democratic society. In fact, they valued religious communities so much that they quite intentionally designed our government and laws so that the State could neither promote nor oppress any particular religion. Liberty of political and religious opinion is an essential element in American law and government. Hence, the First Amendment in the Bill of Rights:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

From a practical position, they had witnessed in European history the ways in which the over-identi#fication of a particular religious tradition with a particular state not only corrupts the integrity of the religion, but severely infringes upon the liberty of the people. And from a religious and philosophical position, the Founders were convinced that to dampen the free exchange and expression of religious opinion would deprive faith of vitality and degrade religious life into thoughtless conformity and spiritually numbing habit.

If we really wanted to maintain a strict adherence to the U.S. Constitution, we would brook none of the contemporary efforts to define America as a Christian nation founded, in the words of best-selling apocalyptic writer Tim LaHaye, in "an abiding faith in the God of the Bible." Such an assertion is a lie. It rewrites history and is utterly out of step with the minds and spirits of the Founders.

I sometimes worry that as liberal religionists we feel shy or unworthy or perhaps simply unprepared to speak up for the liberal religious roots of American democracy, planted and tended by our revolutionary ancestors.

Let us be aware that efforts to ban same-sex marriage in federal law is the imposition of a particular theological perspective upon the people.

Let us be aware that attempts to define human life as beginning at conception are an effort to use the state to enforce a particular doctrinal perspective upon the people.

Let us be aware that posting the Ten Commandments in courtrooms and classrooms and outside city halls is an attempt to establish the God of the Bible as the God of America.

Let us be aware that the president urging Americans to participate in a National Day of Prayer is an inappropriate use of the power of the government to suggest the superiority of a theistic religious perspective over a humanistic perspective.

Let us be aware that anti-intellectual, pseudo-scientific attempts to teach creationism or intelligent design in public schools are an attempt to normalize a particular religious opinion as truth.

Let us be aware that liberty of opinion in politics and religion is far too precious to be taken for granted, and far too easily atrophied when not exercised, defended and celebrated.

May we be the defenders of that liberty.

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From Your Minister

RzepkaBY JANE RZEPKA, SENIOR MINISTER, CHURCH OF THE LARGER FELLOWSHIP

"You think too much." Now there's an accusation! If you search the Web for that epithet, you come up with some 113,000 hits. No doubt some of them are directed at Unitarian Universalists—we have snagged the stereotype.

Let me confess at the outset that I like using my head. I like reflection, reverie, and reasoning. I like that human beings—including me—are sentient. And I like that thinking is a big part of great religions everywhere. As a Unitarian Universalist, I have always wondered why so many people, even within our own ranks, disparage those of us who claim thought as a crucial component of the religious life. Really, it's been a mystery to me.

Auguste Rodin, 'The Thinker,' The Rodin Museum, Philadelphia: Bequest of Jules E. Mastbaum, 1929.
"What makes my thinker think is that he thinks not only with his brain…but with every muscle of his arms, back, and legs, with his clenched fist and his gripping toes." —Auguste Rodin

You know "The Thinker," the sculpture by Auguste Rodin? Replicas are everywhere—key chains, paper weights, mouse pads, book ends, tee-shirts. Since 1880, Rodin himself made 61 sculptures from the original mold. In Philadelphia, I saw a large version in the front yard of the Rodin Museum, and because the sculpture is ubiquitous, I almost forgot to pay attention. But I had a call to make on my cell phone, and some papers to retrieve from my bag, so I sat on a bench where, in the midst of the busy-ness, I took a minute to notice The Thinker.

Now there was some Thinking! Not some kind of disembodied science fiction brain-only thinking, but the real thing. As Rodin himself said, "What makes my thinker think is that he thinks not only with his brain…but with every muscle of his arms, back, and legs, with his clenched fist and his gripping toes."

Don't we need this kind of thinking in religion? Isn't that what we try to do? When we think, we bring along our bodies, our impressions, our reactions, our knowledge. All the past loves are with us, and the resentments, the happy bits of life, the excitement, and the moments of peace. Sights. Sounds. Distractions. We bring the whole works to the effort.

A full religion—a full and ideal Unitarian Universalism—requires attention to a variety of aspects. An inner knowledge of quiet and beauty; clear movement toward social justice; immersion in history and identity; access to joy and despair; the love of learning; a sense of connection; hope; with luck, love; and yes—the thought process.

For what it's worth, I don't think you think too much. Go ahead, revel in it, glory in it. You're a Unitarian Universalist.

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REsources For Living

BY LYNN UNGAR, MINISTER FOR LIFESPAN LEARNING, CHURCH OF THE LARGER FELLOWSHIP

Ungar"Is she your real mother?" That's a question my daughter gets all the time. We don't look alike, my daughter Mattéa and I. Mattéa was adopted into our family when she was just a baby. She's African-American and I'm white. She's gorgeous and athletic and I'm…well, I'm holding up OK for being 43. So you wouldn't know from looking at us that we're related. But we are. I'm her real mother because I (like her other mom, Kelsey) do the kinds of things a mother does. I make her lunch and help with homework and tell her to clean her room. I answer her questions and tell stories about when she was little and make sure she eats vegetables. We get mad at each other and yell and work things out and share a hug and a kiss and a song at bedtime. Those are the sorts of things that make someone a real mother.

But you know what? I've figured out in recent years that her birthmom, D.D., the woman she grew inside, is her real mother too. Knowing that she wasn't going to be able to properly care for the baby growing inside her, D.D. made an adoption plan, so that her baby-to-be would have a family who was ready to do all the things that babies need. It was a huge, hard, loving thing for D.D. to do, and doing huge, hard loving things is what being a mother is all about. So I would say absolutely, D.D. is Mattéa's real mother too, even though she's only seen Mattéa a couple of times in her whole life.

Let's face it, the whole motherhood thing is complicated. In addition to biological moms raising their kids, we have mothers raising kids they didn't give birth to and mothers who know that somewhere out there in the world there's a child they couldn't raise. There are also step-mothers raising kids who might or might not see their first mothers on a regular basis, and foster-mothers who are real mothers but only for a limited time, and grandparents or relatives or friends who are acting as mothers to their grandkids or nieces or nephews, and, of course, dads who are raising kids in families that might or might not have moms in them, but who do all the things that you might think of a mother doing.

So, given how complicated motherhood is, it's not too surprising that for a lot of people, Mother's Day is a complicated holiday. It might not feel complicated to you. For you it might just be a Sunday in May when you make a card for your mom, Ungar and her daughteror bring her breakfast in bed, or go out to lunch or something. But if your mom has died, or you don't see her much because of a divorce, or if you wish you could see your birthmom more often—or just wish you could know what she looks like—or if you don't have a mom around because you just have a dad, or have two dads, or even if you're just really mad at your mom, well, then, Mother's Day might be a day when you feel sad or angry or lonely.

And that's OK. It's not fun, but it's OK. It might help, though, to make a special kind of card for Mother's Day. (This idea still works even if everything is great with your mom, and you're not feeling sad or angry or confused or any of that.) Get out a piece of paper and a pen and write down all the things that you can think of that you might want a mom to do, like watching you play soccer or listening to you talk about a fight you're having with a friend or helping you with math problems. They can be things you wish would happen as well as things that are already part of your life. Once you have your list, then think about whether there is someone—your mom or not—who does each of those things with you. If so, write down the person's name next to what they do. If not, try to think of someone who might be willing to try doing it.

Now, here's the Mother's Day card part. For each person whose name you wrote down, write a little card saying thank you for being a mom in that particular way. And if you thought of people who might be willing to do some of those mom things with you that you don't already have, write to them and say that you thought about them on Mother's Day because they are special to you, and ask if they would be willing to __________________ (fill in the blank with what you were hoping for) with you.

Believe me, that kind of note is just about the best kind of Mother's Day present a person can get—far better than a potholder or breakfast in bed. Take it from me, I know. I'm a real mom.

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Eyesight

forestIt was May before my
attention came
to spring and

my word I said
to the southern slopes
I've

missed it, it
came and went before
I got right to see:

don't worry, said the mountain,
try the later northern slopes
or if

you can climb, climb
into spring: but
said the mountain

it's not that way
with all things, some
that go are gone

by A. R. Ammons, from The Language of Spring: Poems for the Season of Renewal, edited by Robert Atwan and published by Beacon Press, available from the UUA bookstore (www.uua.org/bookstore or 800-215-9076) or through the CLF Library (www.clfuu.org/library or 617-948-6150).

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Church of the Larger Fellowship (CLF), 25 Beacon Street, Boston, MA 02108-2823
Phone: (617) 948-6166 · Fax: (617) 523-4133 · E-mail: clf@clfuu.org