Entrusted by the Ancestors
Rev. Diane Rollert
Unitarian Church of Montreal, 12 November 2023
Two weeks ago, I returned from a trip in my role as UUA ambassador to the Unitarian Universalist fellowships in Europe. I spent the first week visiting with Unitarian Universalists in Geneva, Bern and Basel, Switzerland. I had several good meetings before getting sick with Covid during my first weekend there.
Thanks to the kindness of my host in Basel, and about four days straight of sleep, I recovered well enough to travel to Prague for an international gathering of Unitarians, Unitarian Universalists and Free Church Christians from around the world. We were joined by representatives from Africa, Asia, Oceania, North and South America, Eastern and Western Europe.
It was the first in-person international gathering we’ve had since before the pandemic and the dissolution of the International Council of Unitarians and Universalists. This was a first, small step toward creating a new international network as we considered the future of our worldwide movement and the education and training of clergy and lay leadership.
There are vast differences between us, yet the three and a half days we spent together reaffirmed that we are passionate about staying connected. We continue to find common ground through our commitment to peace, tolerance and religious freedom, and in our faith that hope and goodness still exist, despite the current state of the world and the effects of climate change that are threatening us all.
One afternoon, my friend Inga, a German Unitarian, and I toured Prague’s Jewish quarter together. We visited synagogues dating back to as early as the 13th century that had survived Nazi occupation. We walked through the ancient Jewish cemetery with graves piled so high that the graveyard itself is many feet higher than the surrounding path and streets. The gravestones lie helter skelter, falling against each other at odd angles, because there was no other land for burials available to the Jewish community for centuries. So they buried their dead one on top of the other.
The state of the cemetery made me shudder. It looked like rubble hiding ghosts. I couldn’t help but think of the images I’d been seeing of the bombed and rubble-strewn streets of Gaza.
As we walked, I told Inga how moved I was to be a Jew walking with a German in this sad and sacred place. 80 years ago, it wouldn’t have been possible for us to be together. “This gives me hope,” I told her. “Think how much has changed.”
She pointed out the small brass plaques in the sidewalks that mark the places where Jews once lived, recording their dates of deportment and extermination. She told me, “This is how we are coming to terms with our own history.”
I wondered as we talked, would it ever be possible to imagine a day when the people of Israel and Palestine could live side by side in peace?
I recently read these words from a Palestinian named Mo Husseini. Mo is just a thoughtful guy who calls himself a design geek with a background in filmmaking. My design geek husband follows him on Threads.
I’m going to risk sharing with you what he wrote, and I acknowledge that much of what he says is going to seem jarring at first, but please keep listening.
Mo writes:
“As a Palestinian person living through this current crisis I am seeing first-hand the terrible power of words and corrosive impact of irreconcilably subjective meanings.
“When a Palestinian says, ‘Zionism is racism,’ their understanding of the word ‘Zionism’ is anchored in a definition [of the word that is] exclusionary and racist and dehumanizing — an exceptionalist view of the Jewish people’s right to a homeland in a way that abnegates the rights of the Palestinian people and elevates the primacy of ethnic Judaism above all others.
“On the other hand, when a Jewish person says, ‘I am a proud Zionist,’ their understanding of the word ‘Zionism’ is anchored in a very real history of discrimination, persecution, and genocide, and that foundation focuses on the creation of a homeland and nation where Jews can finally control their own destinies and be safe.
“Which means that when a Jew hears a Palestinian use the phrase, ‘Zionism is racism,’ what they hear is ‘I do not believe in the right of the Jewish people to have a nation where they can finally control their destinies and be safe.’
“Which means that when a Palestinian hears a Jew use the phrase, ‘I am a proud Zionist,’ what they hear is ‘I believe that the Jewish people’s right to a state is more important than your right to a state and that being Jewish means I am better than you.’
“One simple word carries completely different meanings and each of those meanings is loaded with historical, cultural, and emotional baggage that can't easily be unpacked or set aside.
“The same is true of a phrase like ‘Free Palestine’ which a Palestinian might use as a call for justice, human rights, and self-determination for the Palestinian people, but a Jewish person will hear as a refusal to accept Israel’s right to exist and a negation of the Jewish people’s right to a Jewish homeland.
“In moments of conflict,” Mo continues, “words can be weapons or bridges. They can inflame tensions or foster understanding. They can perpetuate dehumanizing narratives or promote empathy and peace.
“It’s within our power to choose words wisely and use them in ways that promote understanding. It’s within our power to resist the urge to react and try to understand the meanings behind the words of others, and to strive for a common language that can bring us closer to at least being able to talk to each other.
“The words we choose matter,” he says. “And we often don’t fully understand how they are understood by those who do not understand us.
“Choose wisely,” Mo writes. “Be human. Ask for clarity before you react. Give clarity when you are asked for it. We are often closer to each other in thought than our words can show.”
As I read these words, I find they resonate. This has been my own life’s project, to confront the wounded words in our lives. To find ways to talk to each other without assumptions.
I am holding many conflicting truths in my heart right now. I am trying not to feel hopeless or helpless. And this is where I’ve come to settle for the moment, in the conviction that change is possible, that we can learn to talk to each other and to listen.
I know this position I’m taking will probably not be strong enough for some of you. But I think this community has a unique responsibility to hold space for conversations and learning.
Last Saturday, the leaders of this congregation shared in a retreat. We spoke about what brought each of us to this congregation and to Unitarian Universalism. There were stories of tears, of grief and loss, that had brought many of us here in search of a spiritual community. There was a celebration of connection, of belonging and being able to bring our whole selves here.
These are the stories that sustain me, that reassure me that my own optimism is not misplaced. Caring, loving community is possible. Creating a space where we can be open and vulnerable is possible. Trusting that we can hold each other together through the most challenging times, and be of service to each other and the wider world is possible.
As I stand here in this sanctuary, I feel the presence of our ancestors. I see the many souls I have loved, who have died over these past 17 years, whose lives I have been called to memorialize. They are the cloud of witnesses who remind me of the bittersweetness of this human condition. They are the souls that encourage me to persevere. They are the ones who have taught me to trust that we can find answers when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable with each other.
Go out into the world. Speak your truth. But remember that we are called to become good ancestors together. We are here to reject hatred and violence in all its forms. We are here to build bridges of understanding.
No matter what breaks our hearts, may this faith we share uphold what is most beautifully vulnerable in all of us, and in all of humanity. Let us give thanks for what our ancestors have entrusted in us. Let us work together to become good ancestors for the future.