May 18, 2025

Reverend Karen G. Johnston

First Unitarian Universalist Society Burlington

[this brief reflection was given after Congresswoman Becca Balint delivered a pre-recorded message as the sermon for this morning’s service.]

These words are at the top of this morning’s order of service. They come from Mab Segrest, academic, activist and author of the utterly Southern book, My Mama’s Dead Squirrel, as well as an autobiography entitled, Memoir of a Race Traitor.

She is one of my first three teachers through whom I trace learning how to be a white anti-racist – three teachers, all white Southern lesbians. (The other two were Episcopal theologian, Carter Heyward; and the late poet, Minnie Bruce Pratt.)

Yet all of those states of the spirit – love, anger, imagination, laughter – co-exist with fear, with courage, with fear and courage intertwined.

How do we know what courage can change? We don’t know until we try. 

We did not know, in this frightening and dangerous era in our nation’s history, that Mohsen could go free, until we tried. 

We did not know that Rumeysa could go free, until we tried. 

We did not know that Max, one of the farmworkers arrested on that Franklin County farm on April 21, alongside seven others, could go free, until we tried. 

We do not yet know if Mamoud Khalil will go free, or Kilmar Obrega Garcia, or the other Vermont farmworkers, Arbey and Jose, not yet deported (prayers and protection for Luis, Urillas, and Dani who have already been deported), until we keep trying.

These trying, tiring days, I have been leaning heavily on the Parable of the Choir. Do you know it? 

Our social justice eco-system should be like that. Can be like that. Our lives committed to resistance in a democracy actively being dismantled can be like this. Must be like this.

And not just a choir with its rehearsals and assigned parts. Also just ordinary us, regular people coming together with raised voices, some cracking, some in tune and others, well, not so much. Singing songs of courage and comfort.  Singing together as if we are grooving alone in our car. 

Singing songs like we sang to start off our morning: 

Let inward love guide every deed; by this we worship, and are freed.

Singing songs like we will sing to bring this service to a close with lyrics like

There is hurting in my family

There is sorrow in my town

There is panic in the nation

There is wailing the whole world round (I Am Willing by Holly Near)

To those songs, I offer in closing these words, written by my own hand, now over a decade ago, perhaps the soothing lullaby that your spirit needs to hear at just this moment:

So be it. See to it. Amen.