Air
Preached 8/30/2020 at SouthWest UU in N. Royalton OH
By Rev. Meg Mathieson
As we close this month of reverence to the four elements, we turn today to the holy element of air. Of the four, Earth, Water, Fire, Air, Air feels the most benign. It’s certainly the least tangible. Invisible, ethereal, air is the element associated with the east.
According to Starhawk in “Circle Round,” (read p 354 & 355)
We’ve heard some beautiful poetry and lovely music about air, and as we pause to honor this holy element, I’d like to say a prayer to invoke it, Oh holy element of Air, you are constantly with us. Welcome. I give thanks for your presence.
Thank you for your gifts of acceptance, transcendence and freedom.
Thank you for teaching us how to dance lightly with the beauty of all that is and for showing us how to bask in the blissful freedom of our deepest and most expansive unfettered essence.
Thank you for your playful presence and the way you mess our hair to remind us that life is too short and too beautiful to be taken too seriously.
Thank you Air for your acceptance, transcendence and freedom.
Thank you Air.
It’s an interesting time to be talking about the element of air. You may recall from previous services this month that each element we have discussed has been negatively impacted by humans, and when the earth suffers, we humans suffer along with her. We talked about the poisoned water of Flint MI and the Forest fires raging in California.
This week air itself ravaged Louisiana in the form of hurricane Laura. Six people died, hundreds were hospitalized, and almost 700,000 are without power. People have lost their homes and livelihoods, their lives will never be the same. The holy element of air has proved her power.
Related is of course the global pandemic in which we find ourselves. A minuscule virus that destroys human lungs, taking the breath of life right out of us has permanently changed the life of every single human on this planet. People are dying, not quietly in their beds but sputtering and writhing in agony. We need air. It seems trite to say, but there it is: we humans need air.
And of course who hasn’t heard or seen the often repeated phrase lately “We can’t breathe.” George Floyd’s last words as a man knelt on his neck, denying Floyd’s access to the holy and life-giving element of air. But “I can’t breathe” wasn’t just said by George Floyd. It was said by numberous others. There is a whole wikipedia page dedicated to the meny black men in the last few years whose last words were “I can’t breathe.” And the list on wikipedia is incomplete. I know it’s incomplete because it doesn’t include Freddie Grey, a man brutally killed in my hometown of Baltimore in 2014 who told officers that he couldn’t breathe just before he died.
I know it’s an incomplete list because these are just the ones that we know about. These are the ones that had witnesses.
In 2014, Eric Garner took his last breath in the chokehold of a police officer. His last words were “I can’t breathe.” he repeated this phrase 11 times before he lost consciousness forever.
In 2018 Christopher Lowe told officers that he couldn’t breathe and breathed his last in terror and in pain.
Last year, Javier Ambler’s last words, “I can’t breathe” were the desperate legacy that he left for his two young sons.
Also last year, Derrick Scott died of a collapsed lung after uttering his last words, “I can’t breathe.” The officer responded by telling him “I don’t care.”
Also last year Byron Williams couldn’t breathe. Also last year John Neville couldn ‘t breathe. This past March, Manuel Ellis couldn’t breathe.
These men all had in common the simple fact of their appearance. They were black men, killed by US police officers, and there have been so many, many more. And were they good men? Did they deal drugs? Here’s the thing: police officers are not judges, they are not juries, and they are absolutely not execuationers. It is not a police officer’s job to kill, it is never a police officer’s job to kill someone who is pleading that they cannot breathe.
So I ask you now, do black lives matter? Here, in this country, do they?
The element of air. Our breath. Our life.
Almost 200,000 Americans have died of COVID-19. More than 4,000 just in Ohio. And that’s important. To know that it is happening here.
Because it’s easy to feel for those who are suffering, but we must do more than feel. It’s easy to say well, too bad for them but I don’t live in Louisiana so I don’t need to worry about hurricanes. Or I don’t live in California so I don’t need to worry about wildfires. I don’t live in Flint, my drinking water is clean. I don’t have to worry that my children will be suffocated to death, denied the air that gives them life, because my children have white skin. My precious boys, my sweet, sensitive Michael is 14 years old, the same age that Emmitt Till was. Emmit Till who can no longer breathe. Emmitt Till who should not be a historical figure, Emmitt Till who is a contemporary of ours, who would be 79 years old today had he not been struck down, like all of his brothers, like all of the men and women I listed above, like our dear beloved Tamir Rice, struck down only a few miles from here.
By the most recent statistics I could find, as of four weeks ago 111 black people have been killed by US police this year. But of course that number is already out of date. Jacob Blake won’t be added to that list because he will survive the seven gunshots into his back. Mr. Blake is currently lying chained to a hospital bed in Wisconsin, and his loved ones are beside themselves with gratitude that he can, in fact, breathe. But Anthony McClain a 32 year old black man shot and killed by police a week and a half ago can no longer breathe.
Trayford Pellerin, a black man, can’t breathe anymore after being shot by police 11 times 2 weeks ago in Louisiana. Danny Buckley, a 61 year old black man was shot and killed by a civilian white man this past week. He can’t breathe. Those are the ones we know about. So far.
I don’t have to worry. I have not been touched by tragedy. But these families, they will never recover.
So when I say we need to do more than just feel for them, what can we do? How can we stand up for black lives and fight wildfires and help people get access to clean water? How do we do all of this?
How do we do all of this, while living our lives, doing our jobs, raising our kids, walking our pets? How do we do all of this during a global pandemic that has us limiting our exposure to one another?
There is a common thread to all of these tragedies. That common thread is the four elements that we have looked at this month here at SWUU. The common thread is our mother Earth and how she is suffering. We must, we must! We no longer have a choice! We must recognize the thread that ties environmentalism and social justice together. We must see with clear eyes that when our mother earth suffers, we all suffer. We must do what we can, little as it may be, to be kind to our sweet mother, for if we are kind to her, she will be kind to us.
This means practical things like recycling, like minimizing waste, like cleaning up litter when we come across it.
It means political things like confronting racist language and voting, good god it means voting in November!
And there, I think is a way to make that thread visible. It feels like there’s a long way from being upset about the treatment of Jacob Blake to recycling. When you put the empty soup can into the recycling bin, you don’t think, this is for you, Breonna Taylor. But, BUT. They are totally connected. The ultra-wealthy oligarchs don’t want you to put this together, but when you minimize your consumption and waste, everyone benefits. When you VOTE, everyone benefits. When you are good to the earth, we all benefit. Ubuntu. And with our actions and our votes, we can secure a world where everyone can breathe.
I’d like to end with a poem by Sri Chinmoy that is about air, breathing, and is also about hope. May it bring you hope and help you to trust in the very real power you as an individual have to make this world a better, cleaner, safer place.
My heart longs to be dissolved
In wings of air
And fly in the unhorizoned sky.
I long to open up
All my heart doors
In the delight of my liberation – life.
May my life begin
With the breath of a new hope
Preached 8/30/2020 at SouthWest UU in N. Royalton OH
By Rev. Meg Mathieson
As we close this month of reverence to the four elements, we turn today to the holy element of air. Of the four, Earth, Water, Fire, Air, Air feels the most benign. It’s certainly the least tangible. Invisible, ethereal, air is the element associated with the east.
According to Starhawk in “Circle Round,” (read p 354 & 355)
We’ve heard some beautiful poetry and lovely music about air, and as we pause to honor this holy element, I’d like to say a prayer to invoke it, Oh holy element of Air, you are constantly with us. Welcome. I give thanks for your presence.
Thank you for your gifts of acceptance, transcendence and freedom.
Thank you for teaching us how to dance lightly with the beauty of all that is and for showing us how to bask in the blissful freedom of our deepest and most expansive unfettered essence.
Thank you for your playful presence and the way you mess our hair to remind us that life is too short and too beautiful to be taken too seriously.
Thank you Air for your acceptance, transcendence and freedom.
Thank you Air.
It’s an interesting time to be talking about the element of air. You may recall from previous services this month that each element we have discussed has been negatively impacted by humans, and when the earth suffers, we humans suffer along with her. We talked about the poisoned water of Flint MI and the Forest fires raging in California.
This week air itself ravaged Louisiana in the form of hurricane Laura. Six people died, hundreds were hospitalized, and almost 700,000 are without power. People have lost their homes and livelihoods, their lives will never be the same. The holy element of air has proved her power.
Related is of course the global pandemic in which we find ourselves. A minuscule virus that destroys human lungs, taking the breath of life right out of us has permanently changed the life of every single human on this planet. People are dying, not quietly in their beds but sputtering and writhing in agony. We need air. It seems trite to say, but there it is: we humans need air.
And of course who hasn’t heard or seen the often repeated phrase lately “We can’t breathe.” George Floyd’s last words as a man knelt on his neck, denying Floyd’s access to the holy and life-giving element of air. But “I can’t breathe” wasn’t just said by George Floyd. It was said by numberous others. There is a whole wikipedia page dedicated to the meny black men in the last few years whose last words were “I can’t breathe.” And the list on wikipedia is incomplete. I know it’s incomplete because it doesn’t include Freddie Grey, a man brutally killed in my hometown of Baltimore in 2014 who told officers that he couldn’t breathe just before he died.
I know it’s an incomplete list because these are just the ones that we know about. These are the ones that had witnesses.
In 2014, Eric Garner took his last breath in the chokehold of a police officer. His last words were “I can’t breathe.” he repeated this phrase 11 times before he lost consciousness forever.
In 2018 Christopher Lowe told officers that he couldn’t breathe and breathed his last in terror and in pain.
Last year, Javier Ambler’s last words, “I can’t breathe” were the desperate legacy that he left for his two young sons.
Also last year, Derrick Scott died of a collapsed lung after uttering his last words, “I can’t breathe.” The officer responded by telling him “I don’t care.”
Also last year Byron Williams couldn’t breathe. Also last year John Neville couldn ‘t breathe. This past March, Manuel Ellis couldn’t breathe.
These men all had in common the simple fact of their appearance. They were black men, killed by US police officers, and there have been so many, many more. And were they good men? Did they deal drugs? Here’s the thing: police officers are not judges, they are not juries, and they are absolutely not execuationers. It is not a police officer’s job to kill, it is never a police officer’s job to kill someone who is pleading that they cannot breathe.
So I ask you now, do black lives matter? Here, in this country, do they?
The element of air. Our breath. Our life.
Almost 200,000 Americans have died of COVID-19. More than 4,000 just in Ohio. And that’s important. To know that it is happening here.
Because it’s easy to feel for those who are suffering, but we must do more than feel. It’s easy to say well, too bad for them but I don’t live in Louisiana so I don’t need to worry about hurricanes. Or I don’t live in California so I don’t need to worry about wildfires. I don’t live in Flint, my drinking water is clean. I don’t have to worry that my children will be suffocated to death, denied the air that gives them life, because my children have white skin. My precious boys, my sweet, sensitive Michael is 14 years old, the same age that Emmitt Till was. Emmit Till who can no longer breathe. Emmitt Till who should not be a historical figure, Emmitt Till who is a contemporary of ours, who would be 79 years old today had he not been struck down, like all of his brothers, like all of the men and women I listed above, like our dear beloved Tamir Rice, struck down only a few miles from here.
By the most recent statistics I could find, as of four weeks ago 111 black people have been killed by US police this year. But of course that number is already out of date. Jacob Blake won’t be added to that list because he will survive the seven gunshots into his back. Mr. Blake is currently lying chained to a hospital bed in Wisconsin, and his loved ones are beside themselves with gratitude that he can, in fact, breathe. But Anthony McClain a 32 year old black man shot and killed by police a week and a half ago can no longer breathe.
Trayford Pellerin, a black man, can’t breathe anymore after being shot by police 11 times 2 weeks ago in Louisiana. Danny Buckley, a 61 year old black man was shot and killed by a civilian white man this past week. He can’t breathe. Those are the ones we know about. So far.
I don’t have to worry. I have not been touched by tragedy. But these families, they will never recover.
So when I say we need to do more than just feel for them, what can we do? How can we stand up for black lives and fight wildfires and help people get access to clean water? How do we do all of this?
How do we do all of this, while living our lives, doing our jobs, raising our kids, walking our pets? How do we do all of this during a global pandemic that has us limiting our exposure to one another?
There is a common thread to all of these tragedies. That common thread is the four elements that we have looked at this month here at SWUU. The common thread is our mother Earth and how she is suffering. We must, we must! We no longer have a choice! We must recognize the thread that ties environmentalism and social justice together. We must see with clear eyes that when our mother earth suffers, we all suffer. We must do what we can, little as it may be, to be kind to our sweet mother, for if we are kind to her, she will be kind to us.
This means practical things like recycling, like minimizing waste, like cleaning up litter when we come across it.
It means political things like confronting racist language and voting, good god it means voting in November!
And there, I think is a way to make that thread visible. It feels like there’s a long way from being upset about the treatment of Jacob Blake to recycling. When you put the empty soup can into the recycling bin, you don’t think, this is for you, Breonna Taylor. But, BUT. They are totally connected. The ultra-wealthy oligarchs don’t want you to put this together, but when you minimize your consumption and waste, everyone benefits. When you VOTE, everyone benefits. When you are good to the earth, we all benefit. Ubuntu. And with our actions and our votes, we can secure a world where everyone can breathe.
I’d like to end with a poem by Sri Chinmoy that is about air, breathing, and is also about hope. May it bring you hope and help you to trust in the very real power you as an individual have to make this world a better, cleaner, safer place.
My heart longs to be dissolved
In wings of air
And fly in the unhorizoned sky.
I long to open up
All my heart doors
In the delight of my liberation – life.
May my life begin
With the breath of a new hope