Turning Point: Reflections on the Summer Solstice

“At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.” T S Eliot

On Friday we celebrated the summer solstice, the turning point of the year, the longest day, when we appreciate the warmth and fulfilment of summer, and count our blessings, after which the days grow shorter and the nights longer, until the sun is reborn at the winter solstice. Solstice means ‘standing of the sun’ because the sun appears to rise and set in the same place for three consecutive days.

I invite you over the next few days to find some moments of stillness, to give yourself permission to pause and to become aware of the inner light shining in the heart of your being. Perhaps take the opportunity to do your own standing still – to take stock, to reflect on the year so far – how did you come to be where you are now and how can you open yourself to what lies ahead? Ask yourself, what do I love, what makes my heart sing? How can I make space for them in my life going forward? Listen to your inner wisdom and see what emerges.

As well as reaching a turning point in the wheel of the year, we have also reached another turning point for the earth, a point at which the future of the earth’s wellbeing hands in the balance. Some people think we have already gone too far, that human society is on the verge of collapse, because our addiction to burning fossil fuels has led to irreversible climate catastrophe.  Ralph Waldo Emerson prophesied, “The end of the human race will be that it will eventually die of civilisation.”

There can be no doubt that the way we are living on the planet is unsustainable, from deforestation to over-fishing, from fracking to polluting the air with noxious chemicals. We are in the midst of the sixth mass extinction of life on earth and the first to have been caused by humans. How do we face up to this without becoming overwhelmed?

A recent article in the Guardian caught my attention. It was an interview with social scientist and senior fellow emeritus of the Policy Studies Institute, Mayer Hillman. It was a sobering read. “We’re doomed,” he says, “The outcome is death, and it’s the end of most life on the planet because we’re so dependent on the burning of fossil fuels. There are no means of reversing the process which is melting the polar ice caps. And very few appear to be prepared to say so.” Hillman believes that accepting our civilisation is doomed could make humanity like a terminally ill person. Such people rarely go on binges, but rather do all they can to prolong their lives. He concludes, “We’ve got to stop burning fossil fuels. So many aspects of life depend on fossil fuels, except for music and love and education and happiness. These things, which hardly use fossil fuels, are what we must focus on.”

Hillman mentions the Dark Mountain Project, a collective of writers who publish a journal and have embraced the end of “civilisation” in environmental catastrophe. The Dark Mountain project manifesto includes the following statements:
We live in a time of social, economic and ecological unravelling. All around us are signs that our whole way of living is already passing into history. We will face this reality honestly and learn how to live with it.
We reject the faith which holds that the converging crises of our times can be reduced to a set of ‘problems’ in need of technological or political ‘solutions’.
We believe that the roots of these crises lie in the stories we have been telling ourselves. We intend to challenge the stories which underpin our civilisation: the myth of progress, the myth of human centrality, and the myth of our separation from ‘nature’. These myths are more dangerous for the fact that we have forgotten they are myths.

While neither Hillman nor the Dark Mountain Project writers mention the word, perhaps they would agree with my analysis that the environmental crisis is a spiritual crisis. It is a crisis of disconnection, of separation. This crisis has been a long time in the making. As the Dark Mountain Projects points out, it has been fostered by the stories we tell ourselves, the myths in which our society and our religion are grounded.

Even Unitarianism has been culpable in promulgating these dangerous myths. In a sermon in 1886, US Unitarian Minister James Freeman Clarke gave “Five Points of the New Theology: The fatherhood of God, the brotherhood of man, the leadership of Jesus, salvation by character, and the progress of mankind onward and upward forever.” These were the basis of Unitarianism until after the First World War. Most of us would probably regard this statement as outdated now, yet we must recognise that it is still the basis of the prevailing philosophy underpinning the economic model of the West, neo-liberalism.

Thankfully Unitarianism has evolved since the nineteenth century! One of the principles embraced by Unitarians today is, “Respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part.” It seems to me that this emphasis on interconnectedness is the key to healing the spiritual crisis of our time.

My shamanic teachers, Jason and Nicola Smalley of The Way of the Buzzard, talk of fostering the five Cs in their work: community, connection, celebration, creativity and ceremony. A similar list to the one Mayer Hillman says that we must focus on. These are the things that give our lives meaning in the midst of chaos. These are the things I find in our spiritually nourishing Unitarian community.

The approaches of Hillman, the Dark Mountain Project and the Smalleys all have some similarities with that of Buddhist and Deep Ecologist Joanna Macy, and Psychologist Chris Johnstone in their book Active Hope. The premise of their work is that we can choose our response to whatever situation we face. Active Hope is a process of three steps we can apply to any situation. First, we take a clear view of reality; second, we identify what we hope for in terms of the direction we’d like things to move in or the values we’d like to see expressed; and third, we take steps to move ourselves or our situation in that direction. Active Hope doesn’t require our optimism – we can apply it even in areas where we feel hopeless. The guiding impetus is intention; we choose what we aim to bring about, act for, or express. Rather than weighing our chances and proceeding only when we feel hopeful, we focus on our intention and let it be our guide.

Macy and Johnstone agree that our perceptions are shaped by which story we identify with and identify three stories being enacted in our time -

1. Business As Usual – this story assumes that there is little need to change the way we live and that economic growth is essential for prosperity. 
2. The Great Unravelling – this story draws attention to the disasters that Business as Usual is taking us toward and those it has already brought about. It is the story of the collapse of ecological and social systems, the disturbance of climate, the depletion of resources, and the mass extinction of species.
3. The Great Turning – this story is embodied by those who know the first story is leading us to catastrophe and who refuse the let the second story have the last word. Involving the emergence of new and creative responses, it tells of the multifaceted transition from an industrial society committed to economic growth to a life-sustaining society committed to the healing and recovery of our world. The central plot is the gift of Active Hope. 

They identify three dimensions of the Great Turning:

1. Holding Actions, which aim to protect what is left of our natural life-support systems and counter the unravelling of our social fabric. Holding actions are essential; they save lives. But by themselves, they are not enough for the Great Turning to occur. Along with stopping the damage, we need to replace or transform the systems that cause the harm. This is the work of the second dimension.
2. Life-Sustaining Systems and Practices, which involve a creative redesign of the structures and systems that make up our society. Through our choices about how to travel, where to shop, what to buy and how to save, we shape the development of this new economy. Social enterprises, micro-energy projects, sustainable agriculture, and ethical financial systems all contribute to the rich patchwork quilt of a life-sustaining society. But by themselves they are not enough. These new structures won’t take root and survive without deeply ingrained values to sustain them. Cultivating and sustaining these values is the work of the third dimension.
3. Shift in Consciousness, which nurtures and develops our connected self, deepening our sense of belonging in the world. Like trees extending their root systems, we can grow in connection, thus allowing ourselves to draw from a deeper pool of strength and courage. By strengthening our compassion, we give fuel to our courage and determination. In the past, changing the self and changing the world were often regarded as separate endeavours. But in the story of the Great Turning, they are recognized as mutually reinforcing and essential to one another.

I believe that the tide is turning. The Great Turning is gaining momentum. From Greta Thunberg’s school strikes for the climate to Extinction Rebellion to the launch of the New Zealand government’s wellbeing budget, which puts health and life satisfaction rather than GDP or economic growth at the centre of its economic policy, the voices calling for our transition to a life-sustaining world are multiplying.

Our awareness of the interconnectivity of all life underpins this movement towards a life-sustaining society. To take sustainable agriculture as an example, practices such as organic farming, permaculture and especially rewilding, where we understand ourselves as part of nature, not above it and separate from it, are our best hope of a sustainable future for life on earth.

So let us stop telling ourselves the old stories of how humans are above and beyond nature. Let us stop telling ourselves the old stories of the necessity of progress. These stories no longer serve us. Instead, let us tell ourselves the story of interconnection, the story of how we are an integral part of the whole, which flourishes through co-operation not competition.  Let us stop telling ourselves the story of the pyramid = the story of hierarchy, of patriarchy, of man at the top and all else below. Let us begin again to tell ourselves the story of the circle, the sphere, the earth, the sun and the moon – the story of cycles, of inclusion, of wholeness.

When we inhabit the circle story we act from love and compassion. We understand that, in the interconnected web of being, all acts of love and compassion make a difference – if I pick up a piece of plastic litter, thus preventing a mouse, say, from becoming trapped in it – my act of love and compassion may not affect climate change, but it makes all the difference in the world to the mouse.

I am reminded of the story by Loren Eiseley of the star-fish on the beach. Thousands of star-fish have been washed up on the beach after a storm and a girl is throwing them back into the sea, one by one. People watch her. A man asks her what she is doing and points out that there are far too many star-fish for her to make a difference. She picks up another star-fish, throws it back into the sea and says, “I made a difference to that one.” So the man joined the little girl in throwing starfish back into the sea. Soon others joined in and all the starfish were saved.

The Dark Mountain project manifesto concludes, “The end of the world as we know it is not the end of the world full stop. Together, we will find the hope beyond hope, the paths which lead to the unknown world ahead of us.”

Father's Day Reflections on Unconditional Love and the Parable of the Prodigal Son

Luke 15:11-32 (NRSV) – The Prodigal Son.
Then Jesus said, "There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, 'Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.' So he divided his property between them. A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and travelled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. But when he came to himself he said, 'How many of my father's hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands."' So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. Then the son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.' But the father said to his slaves, 'Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!' And they began to celebrate. Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. He replied, 'Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.' Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. But he answered his father, 'Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!' Then the father said to him, 'Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.'"

From 'Embracing The Power of Truth' by Shavasti:
When we insist that only the victim has the right to heal, or more right to heal, then what we are agreeing to is that the perpetrators and all of their descendants live in separation from their true nature - that is how we end up with the world as it is today.
Those of us who have stood in righteous indignation demanding the downfall of the wicked, the cruel and the unjust have made just as big a contribution to the age of darkness as anyone else. We insist on separation, we insist that others live in darkness.
Peace will come to us all when we have the courage to lament the losses of our enemies, when we have the courage to grieve their dead, when we have the courage to weep for the burden that their children carry, when we have the courage to recognise that we ourselves will never be at peace individually or collectively until our sworn enemies are likewise at peace.


The parable of the prodigal son is a very well-known story, but even stories that are familiar are worth re-examining now and then.  As with all the parables of Jesus, they work on various levels.  They are simple stories about everyday things, but they reveal deep truths.  They are archetypal stories that we can all identify with, speaking to us now, in this day and age, as much as they did two thousand years ago.

The story appears in Luke’s gospel as the last of three parables about loss and redemption, following the parable of the Lost Sheep and the parable of the Lost Coin, that Jesus tells after the Pharisees and religious leaders accuse him of welcoming and eating with "sinners."

The younger son, who squanders his father’s inheritance in ‘loose living’, represents ‘sinners’, while the older son, who is concerned with following duty and law in the hope of reward for merit, represents the Pharisees.  The father represents God with his unconditional and limitless divine love and mercy.

When we look at the two sons we can see that we could probably identify with each of them at some time in our lives.  And because this is an archetypal story we may see parallels in the lives of those around us too.

When I mentioned to my own father that I would be using the parable of the prodigal son as the basis for the Father's Day service, he said, “Oh, I don’t like that story.  It’s not fair on the son who stays at home.  He works hard and gets nothing, but his wastrel brother gets the party.  The message is that you may as well be a bad person all your life and then repent at the last minute.”

I can see where he is coming from.  Most of us can probably identify as one who works hard and does their duty, and may feel aggrieved when we are not rewarded for it, and perhaps even bitter and envious of others who may seem to us to be less deserving but are showered with love and riches.

My father stayed at home and worked hard for his father, a difficult man, who never expressed his gratitude.  His sisters left home and were always welcomed back by their parents, whatever mistakes they had made.  So I can understand why my father identifies with the dutiful son.

But what of the prodigal son - can we identify with him?  Is anything he does so terrible?  Yes, he is restless and reckless.  He wastes his money and by implication, his life. As far as we know, the only person he hurts is himself.  Most of us have probably done things we are not proud of.  Perhaps sometimes we may feel we have wasted our time on things that are not good for us.  At some time in our lives we have all needed forgiveness.

And so we come to the father.  The message of the parable is distinctly Universalist. The love of God the Father is infinite – there is nothing one can do that would make Him turn away.  We are always welcome to return to the fold. This is inclusivity at its most radical.  No one is excluded from the circle.

It may seem as if there is no motivation to do the right thing and to live by a moral code if God accepts everyone, no matter what.  That motivation, in my understanding, lies in the knowledge that love is its own reward. If I embody love then I will naturally choose to do what is most loving, right and just.

The prodigal son can be seen as an archetypal story about the journey we all need to make as individuals towards wholeness and acceptance of our true nature as children of divine love.  We go out into the world, make mistakes, experience loneliness and loss. Yet, hidden in these experiences of suffering are the seeds of transformation.

Perhaps we can also see the story reflected in society as a whole.  We have wandered far away from home; some would say we are squandering our inheritance by turning away from God and the spiritual dimension of life.  Can we find our way back home?  Will there be a happy ending for us?  Will all be well?  That possibility lies in whether we choose to accept the invitation to embody love.

A similar parable of a lost son is found in the Mahayana Buddhist Lotus Sutra. The stories are parallel to start with, but continue differently after the son's return. In the Lotus sutra, the poor son does not recognize the rich man as his father. When his father sends out some attendants to welcome him, the son panics, fearing retribution. The father lets the son leave without revealing their kinship. However, he gradually draws the son closer to him by employing him in successively higher positions, and eventually tells him of their kinship.  In the Buddhist parable, the father symbolises the Buddha, and the son symbolises all human beings. Their kinship symbolises that everyone has Buddha nature.

A friend pointed me to the Shavasti piece.  The book had made a big impression on her, especially the concept that “we ourselves will never be at peace individually or collectively until our sworn enemies are likewise at peace.”

It is easy to judge others for actions we consider reprehensible.  Those who commit murder, rape, terrorism; clearly these things are wrong and it is easy to justify demanding retribution for such crimes.  It is hard to believe that even perpetrators such as these could be embraced by Love.

If God is all loving then that love extends to even those we detest with our whole being.   If there is any limitation on that love, if murderers are refused by Love, then Love is not love, but something else. And if Love refuses a murderer, who else does Love refuse to embrace? Who else is love unable to transform and heal?

In the Lord’s Prayer we ask, ‘forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us’.  In the parable and in life, forgiveness is key to reconciliation and peace – it is only by forgiving others and ourselves for our mistakes that we can be reconciled to each other and to our own true nature, and so find peace.  May we always remember that, however far we roam, there is always an invitation to open the door and be embraced by Love.

Some final thoughts from UU Minister, Rev Ana Levy-Lyons, “Give yourself permission to be all three characters in the Prodigal Son story. Feed your inner settler and your inner nomad. Find a place for each in this world. And be your own loving parent too – the parent who accepts and values each; allows each to make mistakes; and invites each to the party. This is the true meaning of freedom.”

Flower celebration - the story of Norbert and Maja Capek

On Sunday we held our annual flower celebration - one of the few Unitarian rituals, it was created by Czech ministers Norbert and Maja Capek in 1923. This is their story:

In 1907 a 19 year old Maja Oktavec emigrated to the United States with her family from what was then part of Bohemia. She became a librarian, and while working in the New York Public Library, she met Norbert Capek, a fellow Bohemian emigre and Baptist minister.  They fell in love, and got married in 1917.  Maja was Norbert's third wife. His previous two wives had died, leaving him with 8 children.  Due to his outspoken liberal views, the Baptist church had tried Norbert for heresy in 1914.  He was found not guilty, but was beginning to doubt his Baptist beliefs.  In 1919 he resigned from the Baptist ministry and they both stopped attending church. 

One day, the children said they wanted to go to Sunday school. They chose a church to try, and they came back, their parents asked them what they had learned. It sounded like the old religion they had rejected, so Norbert said that he wished the children would try a different Sunday school the next week. This went on for weeks. The children would go off to a new Sunday school, they would tell what they learned when they got home, and Norbert would ask them to please try another church the next week.

One Sunday in 1920 the children went to the Unitarian church in East Orange. When they came home and told what they had learned, Norbert thought it sounded like the way they thought about religion and encouraged them to return. Soon Norbert and Maja decided that they, too, would like to go to the Unitarian church, and they liked it so much they became members.

In 1921 the Capeks returned to their homeland, which had recently become the independent country of Czechoslovakia, to start a Unitarian church there, in the city of Prague. Most members of their new church had left other churches to become Unitarians. Many of these people did not want to be reminded of the churches they had left behind. In 1923, Norbert and Maja Capek decided to create a new ritual for their congregation: a Flower Celebration, where everyone exchanged flowers to symbolize how all human beings are connected.  Maja was ordained to the ministry in 1926.  Within ten years, this new Unitarian church grew to three thousand members, the largest Unitarian church in the world.

In 1938 Czechoslovakia was invaded and occupied by Nazi Germany. Maja Capek went to the United States to raise money for relief work in Czechoslovakia. Norbert was offered a job in Boston with the US Unitarians, but decided to stay put, even though he new he would be in great danger.

During her 1940 speaking tour in the US, Maja introduced the flower celebration ritual to the Unitarian churches in Cambridge and New Bedford, Massachusetts. Maja settled in New Bedford, serving North Unitarian Church as minister from late 1940 to late 1943, and helping to revitalize the church.

Back in Czechoslovakia, in March 1941, Norbert and his adult daughter, Zora, were arrested by the Gestapo and taken to prison. Zora was accused of listening to foreign radio broadcasts and distributing the content of BBC transmissions. Norbert was accused of listening to foreign radio broadcasts, a capital offence under the Nazis, and of "high treason." Several of his sermons were cited as "evidence" of his treason.

Two separate trials were held, the first at the prison soon after their arrest; the second, an appeal of the original decision, was held in Dresden in April 1942.  Although the appeals court found Norbert innocent of treason, the Gestapo ignored the court recommendation, and sent Norbert to Dachau concentration camp and Zora to forced labour in Germany.  Zora survived, but Norbert was executed. Maja did not learn of Norbert's death until after the end of the war.

In 1944, Maja started working at the headquarters of the American Unitarian Association in Boston, working for the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Agency. After retiring in 1950, Maja continued to preach at Unitarian churches in Europe and North America.  She died in 1966.

Every year with our flower celebration, we give thanks for the lives of Maja and Norbert Capek, and we honour their memory.

Blessing on the flowers by Norbert Capek
"Infinite Spirit of Life, we ask thy blessing on these flowers, thy messengers of fellowship and love. May they remind us, amid diversities of knowledge and of gifts, to be one in desire and affection, and devotion to thy holy will. May they also remind us of the value of comradeship, of doing and sharing alike. May we cherish friendship as one of thy most precious gifts. May we not let awareness of another's talents discourage us, or sully our relationship, but may we realize that, whatever we can do, great or small, the efforts of all of us are needed to do thy work in this world. Amen."