Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of the Emerald Coast
 

“Dancing Solos on the Ceiling”

Rev. Rod Debs

August 26, 2007 
 

Story:  “Who Speaks for Wolf?” by Paula Underwood, adapted 
 

Do you know what wolves are like?  They usually hide.  At night they howl. 
 

Paula Underwood tells the story about a little Oneida Indian boy who used to love to watch wolves.  He would go off into the hills and sit quietly and watch the wolves.  After a long time, the wolves got used to him and would even let their baby cubs play with him.  By listening to wolf sounds, the Oneida Indian boy learned how to make wolf sounds.  He came to understand what wolf sounds meant.  It’s like he had learned wolf language. 
 

The story goes that his Oneida tribe had grown so large that they needed a larger place to live.  So braves were sent out in all directions to find a good place for the whole tribe to move to.  As the braves returned, everyone in the tribe would gather around the fire and listen to the brave describe the new lands he had seen. 
 

Some places had good soil for growing corn, beans and squash, the Three Sisters.  Other places were too wet or too dry.  So the tribe listened to every brave’s report.  And they listened to everyone say where they thought would be the best place to make the tribe’s new home.  When everyone had spoken, every adult and every child, everyone was quiet.  They were about to decide where to move. 
 

But one of the children asked, “Where is Brother of Wolf?”, the boy who could speak with wolves.  No one had seen him in a long time.  So the Oneida tribe decided to wait to hear what Brother of Wolf thought about choosing a new campsite.  They waited one day.  Another day.  A third day.  They waited ten days.  Finally the Oneida people decided they could not wait any longer.  They decided to move to where they thought was best. 
 

When Brother of Wolf returned, half of his tribe had already moved.  But when he found out where the tribe was moving, Brother of Wolf was very worried.  He said that their new home was a place where many wolves lived.  They should not move there! 
 

But most of the tribe had already moved.  It was too late to change their minds. 
 

The new campsite was great for hunting and fishing and for growing food.  But there were a lot of wolves around.  Sometimes the wolves would steal meat drying on racks in the sun.  So braves were stationed around the camp to chase away wolves, night and day.   
 

The people met to decide what to do about the wolves, so many were busy chasing wolves that not enough food was being grown or hunted for winter.  Brother of Wolf was right.  There were too many wolves. 
 

The Indian people tried feeding the wolves, but then the wolves became daring and ran through camp.  Parents were afraid the wolves would harm the children.  Finally the Oneida tribe realized that they would have to move again to a better location, free of wolves.  It was hard to move twice in one summer and to still have enough food stored for winter.  But the people survived. 
 

This is what the Oneida people learned.  They learned that it is important to listen to every voice, even to the wisdom of wolves, because it might be that one voice, the voice of Brother of Wolf that is important for the survival of the people. 
 

So when the Oneida people gather to make decisions, they listen to every one who will speak.  And when everyone has spoken, there is a time of silence.  And from the silence, just before any decision is made, an elder of the people will ask, “Who speaks for wolf?” just in case there is someone’s voice---even an animal’s---whose wisdom has not been heard.   
 

Who speaks for the silent, the angry, the inarticulate, the absent, even for animals who howl at the moon?  We need to hear every voice. 
 

Reading:  “Councils” by Marge Piercy (#585, Singing the Living Tradition, 1993) 
 

“We must sit down and reason together.

   Perhaps we should sit in the dark.

   In the dark we could utter our feelings.

In the dark we could propose and describe and suggest.

   In the dark we could not see who speaks

   and only the words would say what they say.

No one would speak more than twice.

No one would speak less than once.

   Thus saying what we feel and what we want.

   what we fear for ourselves and each other into the dark,

Perhaps we could begin to begin to listen.

   The women must learn to dare to speak,

   The men must learn to bother to listen.

The women must learn to say I think this is so.

   The men must learn to stop dancing solos on the ceiling.

After each speaks, she or he will say a ritual phrase:

   It is not I who speaks but the wind.

   Wind blows through me.

Long after me, is the wind.”

Message:  One of the Principles in our Unitarian Universalist covenant reads:  “We, the member congregations of the Unitarian Universalist Association covenant (promise) to affirm and promote: … a free and responsible search for truth and meaning….”  In preparing to speak to you today, it struck me that by affirming an ongoing “search for truth and meaning,” we Unitarian Universalists basically assume that absolute truth and ultimate meaning are not already “given,” that truth and meaning are not already revealed, that they still need to be sought out.   
 

There is no need to search for what is already found.  Some bumper-stickers read, “God said it; I believe it; that settles it!” Though such a faith-statement appears to be a humbling of the human heart to religion’s revealed truth, it is really rather arrogant to claim you have absolute truth, case closed. It is a humble posture to admit that you are still looking, still wondering, still questioning and open to new insights and greater breadth and depth of meaning in life.   
 

From ancient days, religious priesthoods have claimed to have exclusive knowledge of life’s mysteries, exclusive control of holy relics and symbols, of powerful prayers and rituals.  In Europe during the Middle Ages, literacy was the exclusive privilege of priests and monks.  From their pulpits, these religious authorities told the unwashed masses what was right, what was good and what was true.  And with the Enlightenment, the University Master became the voice of authority with rows of submissive students memorizing and regurgitating the established truths of various schools of thought. 
 

With the printing press and with the spread of literacy to the common people, many voices were raised challenging a central religious authority.  The 17^th Century English Reformation involved many little groups of religious dissenters and nonconformists gathering themselves into religious sects in defiance of the authority of the Church of England:  Baptists, Congregationalists, Presbyterians, Methodists, Unitarians, Quakers, Levelers, Diggers, Fifth Monarchy Men, Seekers, Plymouth Brethren, Moravians, Churches of Christ and Salvation Army.  Everyone was reading and interpreting the Bible, a cacophony of religious voices, each, authorities unto themselves.  
 

However, something happened in academia to challenge authority of scholars.  Competition among universities and the publishing of books and articles led to peer review journals, scholars holding one another accountable to defend their truth-claims.  Though a professor may be unchallenged in the classroom, in order to be recognized as an authority in one’s field, the scholar must submit his/her academic work to the scrutiny of “peer review,” a sometimes humbling affair.   
 

The pulpit of this preaching service, like the traditional classroom with the teacher or professor at the front, displays a one-directional flow of information and power.  Compare this structure of authority, to participatory classroom discussions and tutorials, and to our own UUFEC small group circles:  Second Hour, Standing Groups, Social Justice Task Groups and Friendship Circles.  Whereas the pulpit and pews point everyone’s attention to one authority, chairs in a circle facilitate dialogue.  Circles facilitate dialogue, but they don’t guarantee it.   
 

Those of us who use critical reason are tempted to consider our chair to be the front of the circle, each of us!  Each one of us is an independent thinker who has polished our understandings over many years of critical reflection.  We are so very generous in wanting to share our liberating insights with others---each of us grabbing the air space, dancing solos on the ceiling!  At our most generous, we resemble the English Reformation, a cacophony of voices, but very few listeners. 
 

One tool to encourage ourselves to make air-space for other voices is the process of going around the circle, each person knowing when their turn will come to speak, but also knowing that we will have many opportunities to listen to others’ insights.  The best example of hearing many voices, I experienced was in a rather large workshop held in Dallas by Planned Parenthood some fifteen years ago.  After her presentation, the facilitator went around the circle inviting each person to share a comment or question.  But instead of a series of unrelated comments, one after another, the facilitator engaged each contributor.  Sometimes she asked the group to respond to the individual’s comment before going on to the next person in the circle.  Sometimes she asked, “Tell me more,” or “What do you think is the answer?”  She listened and engaged others’ insights.  We were all enriched, not just by having a platform to generously share our insights, but by really engaging and hearing others’. 
 

As you may notice, we are not sitting in a circle in this Sunday service.  I am speaking from a pulpit, one single voice, and there are quite a number of pews out there.  You seem perfectly willing to listen to me “dancing solo on the ceiling.”  But there is a distinct difference in the substance of a UU minister’s message.  Before I was a minister, I had my own religious and social justice interests that I do not preach to you from this pulpit.  I do not ask you to think like me.  I seek to challenge us to more open-hearted religious community, to enriching Unitarian Universalist pluralism, to mutual trust and support.  Together we are creating small group structures to hear and engage many voices.   
 

Feminist theologian Nelle Morton expressed the challenge of mutual relation very simply.  She said, “Hear each other into speech.”  In hearing one another into speech, some of you must learn to dare to speak.  Some of us must learn to listen, as Bahal’u’llah taught, we should think of each person we meet, as our spiritual superior.  Yes, each child is my spiritual superior, each blue-collar person, each unemployed worker, each religious conservative is my spiritual superior, and even the one who speaks for wolf.  When we stop “dancing solos on the ceiling,” then:

“We’re gonna sit at the welcome table….

All kinds of people around that table one of these days, hallelujah!...

No fancy style at the welcome table,

   gonna sit at the wecome table one of these days.” 
 

And what a rich circle of sharing that will be!