First Unitarian Church of Baltimore

Corner of Charles and Franklin Streets in Downtown Baltimore

Mailing address:
1 West Hamilton Street
Baltimore, MD 21201
P: 410-685-2330
Fax: 410-685-4133
Office E-mail

WHENEVER I FEEL AFRAID

by the Reverend Phyllis L. Hubbell
at the First Unitarian Church of Baltimore
on the 18^th of November 2001
Thanksgiving Sunday

Every time I fly I am in awe at the miracle I am experiencing. Our plane taxis onto an invisible bridge, stretching through the clouds from Baltimore to San Francisco. The Golden Gate bridge is one and seven tenths of a mile long, nothing compared to this. Except that I cant see this bridge. Scientists can explain it, of course, but to me flying is still a magic trick. Smoke and mirrors. I know that it works, and it is wonderful. But a small part of me still wonders whether if enough people ever stop believing the plane will plunge into the ground.

Im not a white-knuckle flyer. I dreamed of flying even as a girlsoaring, swooping, dancing with birds. But I have had occasional white knuckle moments. My stomach resents turbulence. And that was before September 11 and now November 12. On those days, we were reminded that even the best designed, best maintained bridges sometimes collapse. Consorting with the eagles may be fast and fun, but it is not without risk.

But thats not all. Since September 11, we have discovered that even bringing in the mail can be hazardous to our health. We wonder what lies ahead.

Many of us lived with fear all of our lives. The daily fears like snakes, heights, riding I-95, public speaking, first dates, Alzheimers, the list is long. Some of our fears are unlikely to happen to us. Some are. Some will. The truth is, people are injured every day crossing the street. Every breath we take, every step we make involves risk. Danger may await us even as we lie sleeping in our own beds. Still, we often step off the curb with just a cursory glance left and right. We fall asleep most nights minutes after we pull up the flannel sheets.

I will fly again. A number of you have already. I dont wear gloves when I open my mail, though I look at the return address a bit more closely. Some of us have already put the added dangers behind us. But for many of us it will be awhile before we have quite the complacency we have had before; quite the denial of danger that serves us so well in much of our lives. For others of us, adults as well as some of our children, fear dominates our days.

Much has been written recently by educators and psychologists about what we must do to overcome fear. Much that is good and helpful. Whistling a happy tune is not a bad idea. But I want to speak for a few minutes about a religious response to fear. What is it that gives us strength.

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures

He leadeth me beside the still waters . . .

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me;

Last summer, UU Minister Barbara Childs drove across country from Tampa, Florida to Cincinnati, Ohio, to begin a new ministrya long, slow ride to mark the change in her life. One night, she stopped at cabins in Fort Mountain State Park. That night, she opened the window and listened to the owls and the last of the rain dripping off the eave. The next morning she set out to explore the park. She noticed signs, however, warning not to leave any food outside or even inside cars because of bears. Barbara walked over the to ranger station and asked if it were safe to walk in the park. What about the trail around the lake? How likely would I be to encounter a bear on [that trail]? The park employee replied that shed never seen a bear in the two years that shed been there. Barbara said she felt [her] shoulders relax a little.

But, [the park employee cautioned], theyve been seen all over the park.

Barbara writes, I drove very slowly to where the trail began. It turned out to be a glorious morning. I hiked up the mountain to see the mysterious prehistoric wall of loose rocks for which Fort Mountain is named. Plaques related several speculations about the origins of the wall which so fascinated Barbara, that she says she huffed and puffed my way up the mountain. . . . [A]t some point I realized I was thinking, Bear dont you dare come after me now. Ive got to see this wall first.

And after I did see it, I walked slowly back down the mountain in love with the mist and the green world and the feel of the earth beneath my feet. The wall was remarkableits presence in this wild place a mystery, one that needed no explanation. I was content being reminded how powerful is the unknown and what awe is possible to us in the presence of mystery. And after awhile, walking slowly down the mountain, it occurred to me that I hadnt thought about bears for quite some time.

Where is the religious response to fear? Are we alone when we walk to the valley of the shadow of death? Well, yes and no. Beauty surrounds us. Miracles surround us. If both of those seem gone, still the idea of justice, of a kinder, better world sustains us.

In my early twenties, I knew a man named Jack Jackson, director of the Inner City Cultural Center in Los Angeles. Jack had a vision. He dreamed of a truly interracial world led by the arts. He worked long hours trying to bring his vision to life. I once asked him if he was happy. Happy? I dont think about happiness. I have my work.

Etty Hillesum, a Holland Jew who died in the concentration camps volunteered to visit the young girls in the camp knowing that someday she might not be allowed to leave. She wanted to comfort them. She knew that one day soon she and all those she loved would likely be making that trip. She turned down those who offered to rescue her, believing that someone else would have take her place. She wrote, I am with the hungry, with the ill-treated and the dying, every day, but I am also with the jasmine and with the piece of sky beyond my window. . . And so I can sit for hours and know everything and bear everything and grow stronger in the bearing of it, and at the same time feel sure that life is beautiful and worth living and meaningful. . . . Somewhere there is something inside me that will never desert me again.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me.

When we have a vision, when we have a mission, when we are in the midst of wonder, it is not that we do not feel afraid. It is that we are less likely to think about fear as something that matters. We are less likely to remember our fear. We are afraid. But there is a wall at the top of a mountain that we must see. We are afraid. Yes, so? The work must go on. We are afraid, but we are not alone. We are filled, flooded, with the presence of . . . of what? Of love. Of onenesswith all those who have worked and sacrificed and loved greatly; with all that is beautiful and true and good, with vision and wonder and miracles. We walk through the valley of the shadow of death and we are not alone

This Thursday is Thanksgiving. Yesterday was the beginning of Ramadan. Both are holy days in very different ways. But both invite us to remember and to hold sacred what is important. Both remind us of the abundance of the ordinary days of our lives.

Let us be sustained by beauty. Let us be sustained by miracles. Let us be sustained by love.

May none of us walk alone.