I Know This Rose Will Open

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I know this rose will open.

"Oh, yeah, right!" I can hear some of you, I can hear myself, sometimes say.

What about those cramped, little places we can find ourselves in...when we can't even step out into the light and air, let alone, open and bloom?

How about when we're grumpy and shut down and feel like an outsider?

When we're worrying and weary?

There are wintry places, dry, desert places in our souls.

What are the chances then of the whole world blossoming?

Will there someday be a new era, a reign of love and justice?

It's hard to see oil-soaked pelicans in the gulf and amputees in the tent cities of Haiti.

On the PBS Newshour in silence we see the faces of 19 and 20-some year olds and other men and women killed in military service in Iraq and Afghanistan – and we know that's just a glimpse of the death and devastation.

Will there be a thriving planet someday where no one is shut out, no one made to produce papers to prove their equality?  Will a day come when no one feels like an outsider?

Will a time come when it won't matter who you love?

We know how far we are from the common good.

Someday will people's opportunities be equal without discrepancies by gender, culture, race, class?

Will a time come when things aren't out of balance—some people hording all the wealth and some not having enough?

Will a time come when we don't covet our neighbor's land, our neighbor's oil?

So much seems lost.  So much, out of balance.

For our reflection today, we have the words of contemporary poet Mary Oliver, of 14th century poet Hafiz, and two stories, one from the Hebrew Scriptures, one from the Sufi tradition.

The desert shall rejoice and blossom as a rose.

The Hebrew story tells of the prophet Isaiah and this proclamation to the ancient people of Israel, this promise of a flowering desert.

But before he offered that hope, that promise, Isaiah named what he saw~

People at one another's throats, nation fighting nation, people full of themselves, full of hot air, grabbing all the land for themselves, stealing from the poor, leaving people homeless.

He mourned soldiers left dead on the battlefield, country that used to be covered with fine vines reverted to wasteland, waters stagnant, fishing ruined, violence and brutality.

Isaiah condemns all that and more:  insatiable appetites, people stuffing and gorging themselves with people and things, laws that make misery for the poor, that rob the destitute of dignity, people at dead ends, looking this way and that, and seeing nothing.

Poet Mary Oliver says the shackles of the heart are~

Rue – that's regret, but without changing your ways

Lassitude – weariness, sluggishness, malaise,

Vainglory, people full of themselves, full of hot air

Fear,

Anxiety,

Selfishness, greed at the expense of other people, at the expense of the earth.

Isaiah, after naming all that's out of whack, proclaims the desert shall rejoice and blossom as a rose.

"O yeah, right!"

It's clichéd and profound and true~

It's darkest... before the dawn.

If it's the wintertime of our souls, spring is coming.

If people are frustrated, lost and confused, it is time for a great spiritual awakening.

Individuals will blossom, the whole land will blossom, Isaiah proclaims. Justice will roll down like waters...limp hands will be energized, rubbery knees will strengthen, fearful souls will take heart, find courage, put things right.

The prophet Isaiah promises a great turning, the rose opening, the whole desert blooming.

We could weep tears of joy that a promised land is coming and tears of anguish that it is taking so long.

The rose will open.  Until it does, what do we do?

Isaiah says the answer is simple:  live right, speak the truth, despise exploitation, refuse bribes, reject violence, avoid distractions.  This is how you raise your standard of living:  A safe and stable way to live.  A nourishing, satisfying way to live.

Stay focused.  Don't be distracted by disillusionment, fear, or cynicism.

Find your place.  There is place for everybody.

Some will demonstrate and petition.  Some of us who have had a season of rallying and advocating, will give support and dollars, appreciate activists, pray for their safety and strength.  Some will offer music, dance, paintings, poetry for our inspiration and sustenance.

Isaiah prophesized a revolution where ordinary lives matter.  We, regular folks, create and save and give hope.  Nothing is unusable.  Everything and everybody are needed for remaking the mess we've made.  Each one is needed - no matter who you are or what you've done, no matter your age.

Don't let any advertisements or messages make you believe you're too old to matter.  In his old age, the artist Matisse was confined to his bed.  He attached a long stick to his pen and drew on the walls.  He took scissors and made paper cut-outs and created big bright colored shapes celebrating life.

The roses speak in Mary Oliver's poem, "As long as we are able to

be extravagant we will be hugely and damply extravagant.  Then we will drop foil by foil to the ground.  This is our unalterable task, and we do it joyfully."  As long as you are able, give of yourself joyfully.  Don't drop before you fully bloom.

Don't believe you're too young to be involved.  The kids at Oakland's Destiny Arts, an after school program, create dances and dramas out of their own life stories.  They learn marshal arts and how to take a breath before they respond in conflicts.  When the tension was high with anticipation of the verdict in the trial of the killing of Oscar Grant, these youth were speaking out, calling for non-violent response—no matter what the verdict.

Whoever you are, whatever you are doing, look now to your own life.

What good are our principles and values if they do not change the way we live and interact with others on a regular, daily basis?

Every thought you think, every word you speak affirms something, creates something, shapes the world.

Doing what you can do with joy is good for you and good for those around you.

Each of us is to bring life-giving water to the desert.

Roses will open, fears will burn away, souls will unfurl their wings.

Now, the story from the Islamic Sufi tradition~

Once upon a time, there was an elder respected for his responsibility, compassion, and virtue.  Whenever anyone asked how he had become so wise, he always answered, "I know what is in the Qu'ran."

Once he was sick unto death and stayed calm.  How could he do that?  "I know what is in the Qu'ran."

Once he was robbed of something valuable to him, one season no figs grew, and he almost starved to death.  How could he go on?  How could he survive?  "I know what is in the Qu'ran."

When the old man died, people went to his place and found his Qur'an.  Inside were notes on every page, two pressed flowers, and a letter from a friend.

We'd be wise to make quiet time for reflection and engagement with our spiritual texts and renew our spirits together here each week.  We learn from one another.

Some of you with hard, hard challenges say that you've come to know that all you can do is live moment to moment, being with whatever is.   Within the moment, you say, you often find love and gratitude.

In his Qur'an are pressed flowers and a letter from a friend.  We need remembrances of beauty and of loving friends.

What was in the letter the old man saved?

What would you love to hear and read?

A woman adopted a six-week old cockatiel bird.  The SF Chronicle reported it.  He was just a bird.  Most mornings she remembered to greet him with "Hello, baby," and upon leaving for work, "Be a good birdie."  One day he replied, repeating her words.  She started to choose her words more carefully.  Soon the bird learned phrases she longed to hear, "I'm sorry."   You're beautiful."    "I love you!"

Maybe it's like that.  What we say and do comes back to us.

And maybe we find meaning and joy simply in the giving.

I am sorry for the ways I've let you down, words I've said that hurt you or words I haven't said when you wanted them.  I am sorry for your pain and sorrow.  I am sorry, and I know you are, for the hardship and suffering of life around the globe.

You are beautiful.  You have already made a difference.  The world continues to need you.

You are beautiful.

I love you.

The poet Hafiz asks, "How did the rose ever open its heart and give to this world all its beauty?   It felt Love."

From dry branches, come green shoots, between cracks, a blossom.

On parched earth, streams flow.

Plant seeds for what you hope will flourish.

Do what you can do with joy.

This is our unalterable task.

Make the desert rejoice and blossom like a rose.

I Know This Rose Will Open from UU Church of Berkeley on Vimeo.