Category: Life Issues

  • Giving Thanks

    Sermon copyright (c) 2025 Dan Harper. As delivered to First Parish in Cohasset. The text below has not been proofread. The sermon as delivered contained substantial improvisation.

    Readings

    The first reading was the poem “Since You’ve come” by Jimmy Santiago Baca. This poem was selected for the Pushcart Prize in 1989. You can listen to the poet reading this copyrighted poem here: https://voca.arizona.edu/track/id/64026

    The second reading was an excerpt from the long poem “Life Doesn’t Frighten Me,” by Maya Angelou.

    Shadows on the wall
    Noises down the hall
    Life doesn’t frighten me at all

    Bad dogs barking loud
    Big ghosts in a cloud
    Life doesn’t frighten me at all

    Mean old Mother Goose
    Lions on the loose
    They don’t frighten me at all

    Dragons breathing flame
    On my counterpane
    That doesn’t frighten me at all.

    I go boo
    Make them shoo
    I make fun
    Way they run
    I won’t cry
    So they fly
    I just smile
    They go wild

    Life doesn’t frighten me at all….

    Sermon

    The thanksgiving holiday is coming on Thursday. Which got me thinking: Why should I be thankful?

    If you follow the news, you can find many reasons to not be thankful. Internationally, our planet is in the middle of several major conflicts: here in the United States, we mostly hear about the Gaza/Israel war and the war in Ukraine, but if you dig deeper into the international news, you can find the war in Sudan where an estimated 150,000 people have died since April 2023, many of them in alleged genocide. Here in our own country, we have far too many national leaders who appear to be more interested in scoring partisan points than in actually governing. Then there’s the ongoing environmental crisis, ranging from climate change to invasive species to microplastics in our brains. And turning to the sports pages isn’t going to help all that much — the Celtics are losing as often as they’re winning, and (for those of you like me who only care about baseball) I’d rather not remember how the Red Sox yet again blew their post-season chances. Oh, and for those of you who follow cricket, we also don’t want to talk about England’s terrible batting in the Ashes Test with Australia.

    If you follow the news, you’re probably going to say: It’s just another horrible year. Everything is going wrong. Oh, sure, there are a few good things — the Patriots are having a great season (except I don’t follow football), the drought has ended in Massachusetts, and there’s a very fragile ceasefire in the Gaza/Israel war — and yet this last piece of good news shows that even the good news isn’t very good.

    But it’s not just the news that’s causing us to feel that we have nothing to be thankful for. Social media is also making us feel that way. On Wednesday, the Boston Globe published an article titled “With luxury always in our faces, it’s no wonder we’re feeling poor,” which reported on the ways social media makes us feel like we’re always falling behind. The article opened with a portrait of a 27 year old teacher named Chris Tringali who’s still living with his parents so he can save money to buy his own home. The article quoted Tringali as saying: “You go on social media and every weekend someone is getting married, someone is in Italy, or someone is in Europe, having all these milestones…. Meanwhile, I’m doomscrolling through all these big life moments for all these other people and I’m still living at home.”

    Tringali sounds like a great guy with a pretty amazing life — he has already paid off his student loans; he has parents who are willing and able to let him live at home; and as a teacher, he’s got the kind of job where he’s actually making the world a better place. Yet through social media he is forced to compare himself to people who appear to be leading a more lavish lifestyle than he is. The Globe article goes on to quote cognitive scientist Tali Sharot, the head of the Affective Brain Lab at MIT, who said that “the constant flood of high-end content ‘makes you believe that you are less than others.’”

    In other words, if you follow the news, you’re going to believe that we have little to be thankful for (aside from the Patriots who are having a winning season). In other words, if you spend any time at all on social media, you’re going to believe that you have little to be thankful for and furthermore that you are less worthy than those perfect people with lavish lifestyles who appear on your social media feed. And please don’t tell me to stop following the news; please don’t tell me to stop using social media. In a democracy, we actually do need to follow the news; and many of my friends and relatives only communicate via social media any more.

    So what can we do? I do not recommend spiraling into depression and withdrawing into some dark place inside ourselves. I’ve actually known people who have done that, and you probably have, too that; it is not a good solution to this problem, and if you’re feeling that way, please come talk to me and we’ll figure out how to get some professional help so you can climb up out of that rut.

    Without spiraling into depression, the rest of us can feel pretty strongly that the news is all bad, and that we are not as good as anyone on social media. While these are genuine feelings, we don’t have to be stuck with them. And I’m going to suggest an easy daily practice that has helped me get out of that feeling that the news is all bad and I’m a lesser being. This daily practice is quite simple: all you have to do is to give thanks for something. This practice probably gives the best results if you do it every day. But even if you do it once in a blue moon, it still can offer real relief.

    You don’t have to wait for something stupendous to happen before you give thanks. In fact, this practice works best if you give thanks for simple everyday things. I’ll give you an example. For lunch the other day, I took some leftovers and made myself a vegetable-salmon sir fry over rice. This was just an ordinary lunch; it was not photogenic, and not the kind of hyper-attractive meal that you photograph and post on your social media feed. But it tasted good, it was healthful, and it was satisfying. So after I ate lunch, I paused for a moment and said to myself, “I’m thankful for a lunch that made me feel good, that didn’t cost an arm and a leg, and that tasted pretty good.”

    I’ll give you another example of being thankful for something that I would never put on my social media feed. I have a friend in California who’s in recovery from alcoholism, and who has been sober for quite a few years now. Now that we no longer live in California, I don’t see this person very often, but when I do see them, I’m thankful for their dedication to the twelve-step program that helps keep them sober. I’m giving you this example of thankfulness for a couple of reasons. First, thankfulness doesn’t have to remain focused on oneself; of course we can be thankful for the good health and well-being of friends and family. Second, thankfulness doesn’t have to be all about rainbows and sunsets and mystical magical poetical happenings (although those are nice, too); thankfulness can be simple, down-to-earth, prosaic, and practical.

    When you start giving thanks for ordinary, everyday things and events, you begin to realize that actually life presents us with a great deal to be thankful for. The poet Ross Gay wrote a long poem titled “Catalog for Unabashed Gratitude” which is a long poetic list of simple things he’s thankful for: a robin outside his window; spreading rotting compost which (although it stank) would help fertilize a community garden; a friend who didn’t smoke meth with his mother; bees in a bee hive; a friend who survived suicide; for the love of family; the men he saw helping an elderly woman after she fell on the city street; winning a pick-up basketball game; and many more ordinary things for which he’s thankful. At the end of this long poem, Ross Gay apologizes for being so long-winded, and he concludes by saying:

    The perfect ending to a long poem on thankfulness: Say thank you, every day.

    Ross Gay does not tell us to whom he offers his thanks. Nor do I plan to tell you to whom you should offer your thanks. You should thank whomever you want to thank. Maybe you want to thank God or Goddess, Adonai or the Dharma, Allah or the Spirit of Life, or maybe you’re thankful without feeling the need to direct your thanks to any particular subject or object. Personally, I just offer my thanks without worrying too much about to whom, or to what, I’m offering those thanks; I simply toss my thanks out to the universe.

    What Ross Gay does tell us is that giving thanks is much the same thing as “loving / what every second goes away.” Every single thing in life is transitory, which means that the good things in life are also transitory. What is bad in life will eventually end or pass away; by the same token, the good things in life also must come to an end or pass away. As we give thanks for that which is good, it is already passing away. (That vegetable stir fry I made for lunch? — it has long since been eaten.) And so Ross Gay ends his “Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude” by reminding us to give thanks every day. It doesn’t matter to whom you give thanks (if anyone); but you should do it every day.

    Give thanks even as what you are thankful for is passing away. This Thursday we have an official governmental holiday in which we are called upon to give thanks. But the point here is that we shouldn’t wait until the Thanksgiving holiday to give thanks; we should give thanks every day.

    Since the Thanksgiving holiday takes place this week, let’s talk a bit about that holiday. Part of the current mythology of Thanksgiving is that it has something to do with the Pilgrims and the Indians. Even though historians tell us that when Thanksgiving first became an official government holiday the Indians and Pilgrims were not mentioned, I still like to think about them at Thanksgiving time. And I sometimes like to imagine what the English settlers and the Wampanoag gave thanks for, and to whom they extended their thanks, when they gathered to celebrate together on that autumn day back in 1621.

    Perhaps the Wampanoag gave thanks for surviving the pandemic in which perhaps three quarters their people had died just a couple of years previously; perhaps they Wampanoag gave thanks for these new military allies, the Pilgrims, whom they hoped would help them keep the Narragansett Indians from invading their country. Perhaps the English settlers gave thanks that they had survived that first winter in which perhaps half their people had died; perhaps they too gave thanks for these new military allies whom they hoped would help keep them safe. In other words, in my imagination, both the Wampanoag and the English gave thanks for simple survival; they gave thanks for the simple but profound fact that they were still alive.

    To whom did they offer their thanks? Those of the English settlers who were Pilgrims gave thanks to the orthodox Pilgrim version of God. But not all the English settlers were part of that religious group, including some of the military leaders and some of the indentured servants, and those people might have given thanks in their hearts to some less orthodox version of God, or even to older folk deities who have been lost to time. As for the Indians, although today’s Mashpee Wampanoag have stories about their culture heroes Moshup and Granny Squannit, it’s hard to know now exactly to whom seventeenth century Wampanoag gave thanks. Maybe it was culture heroes like Moshup and Granny Squannit. Maybe it’s not important to know to whom they gave thanks; what’s important is that they gave thanks.

    I also like to imagine what would have happened if there had been a 24 hour news cycle and social media in 1621, at that first mythical Thanksgiving dinner. Here’s the way it appears in my imagination. The English and the Wampanoag would have spent the meal doomscrolling through all the bad news of their day — Narragansett Indians rumored to be on war footing! Established church in England speaks out against the Separatists in Plymouth Colony! The city of Riga falls in the Polish Swedish War prompting a major humanitarian crisis! After doomscrolling the bad news, they would have turned to their social media accounts, which would have given them FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) when they saw the photographs of the lavish meals served in the comfortable aristocratic houses of England, and the lavish meals of the Narragansett Indians (remember, the Narragansetts hadn’t been decimated by the plague of 1619) lying around in their comfortable wetu, or dwelling; both the English and the Wampanoag would see all these lavish meals on 17th century social media, making them all too aware of how inadequate their own Thanksgiving dinner was. In my imagination, between the doomscrolling and social media FOMO, the Wampanoag and the English would have decided they had nothing to be thankful for, and the Thanksgiving holiday would have died before it even got started.

    At least, that’s what happened according to my hyperactive imagination. But there was one key difference between the seventeenth century and our own time. Both the English and the Wampanoags had the habit of giving thanks in spite of adverse circumstances, a habit which many of us today have forgotten or neglected. They gave thanks for what they had, even in the face of catastrophes like a pandemic that killed more than three quarters of all Wampanoag, or a brutal winter that killed more than half of all English settlers. Perhaps we can learn from their example. For those of us who forget to give thanks, perhaps we can start giving thanks for something each day. For those of you who never lost the habit of giving thanks, perhaps you could be more public about your habit of thankfulness to help the rest of us. We can support each other in the habit of giving thanks at least once a day. We can give thanks for the baby that disturbs our sleep, because we have never loved anything more than that baby. We can give thanks for friends and family who alive and still with us, and we can give thanks for the memories of the friends and family who have died. We can give thanks for the astonishing beauty of the world around us; we can give thanks for the simple fact that we can draw breath. We can give thanks for the simple food we eat — without feeling the need to post it on social media.

    Doomscrolling and social media show us what we lack, and that makes us fearful. Giving thanks shows us what we have, and makes us stronger. Giving thanks give us strength. We have the love of friends and family. We have the necessities of life, most of the time. We live in a world filled with beauty. And while it is true that all these things are transitory, yet even so, when we give thanks for what we have, we gain something permanent even from that which is transitory.

  • Age Discrimination

    Sermon copyright (c) 2025 Dan Harper. As delivered to First Parish in Cohasset. The text below has not been proofread. The sermon as delivered contained substantial improvisation.

    Readings

    The first reading is from a June, 2020, article on the Psychology Today website titled “The Wisdom of Elders,” by Paul Stoller. Dr. Stoller is professor of anthropology at West Chester University of Pennsylvania.

    “In some parts of the world, elders continue to be highly respected members of their communities. Considered the custodians of wisdom, elders in many societies enjoy considerable degrees of social reverence. If a person of power exercises sound judgment, he or she relies upon the wisdom of elders to reinforce important social values or to maintain a sense of social justice. In this way, elders have long been an elemental source of social well-being….

    “In contemporary American society many, if not most, elders are neither respected nor revered. Consider Texas Lt. Governor Dan Patrick’s heartless comment that elders, who are at high risk of becoming seriously ill or dying from the Covid-19 virus, should sacrifice themselves for the common economic good….

    “Such an ageist statement underscores a eugenic worldview in which society purifies itself when its putatively weaker members (the old, the sick, and/or ethnic and religious minorities) are deemed weak and expendable — a drain on economic resources. In a June 12 article in Sapiens, anthropologist Jayur Madhusudan Mehta rejects this eugenic supposition. He writes that ‘…our species would not be where it is today without grandparents to care for younger offspring. Elders are reservoirs of knowledge and experience, critical for preserving history, traditions, and survival skills.’…”

    [Source: https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-path-well-being/202006/the-wisdom-elders]

    The second reading is from No Stone Unturned: The Life and Times of Maggie Kuhn, the 1991 autobiography of Maggie Kuhn. In 1970, when she was 65, Maggie Kuhn found the Gray Panthers organization to fight age discrimination.

    “I believe the intergenerational war over federal benefits, which continues to this day, is a charade to divert attention from the real budgetary issues. We do not need to take from the young to feed the old, or take from the old to feed the young. There will be enough for everyone if the federal government ends its love affair with military defense hardware and extravagant tax breaks to the rich….

    “I can’t understand or sympathize with people who think of government only in terms of what it does for them personally. That includes both the old who vote down school budget increases because they don’t have any children in school and the young who gripe about Social Security because it doesn’t do anything for them now. The elderly lobby has been forceful and effective in preserving benefits for the old. I would like to see it speak out as forcefully on behalf of the nearly 14 million children who now constitute 40 percent of the nation’s poor…. I feel strongly that the old must not simply advocate on their own behalf. We must act as elders of the tribe, looking out for the best interests of the future and preserving the precious compact between the generations.”

    The third very short reading is a contemporary Nigerian proverb: “What an elder can see when sitting down, a child cannot see when standing up.”

    Sermon

    A number of people from the congregation have asked me to talk about age discrimination. This morning I’d like to talk with you about some ethical and religious dimensions to age discrimination. And I’d like to begin by telling you a story.

    Some years ago, my cousin went to Kenya for her job, and spent two years living there with her husband and daughter. As a stay-at-home dad, her husband wound up doing a fair amount of driving. It’s important to know that his hair had gone gray early on, and at the time of the story was all gray. Now by his account, it sounded to me as though Kenyan drivers were even worse than Boston drivers. Not only that, but they have rotaries in Kenya, just as in Boston, which sounded to me like rotaries in the bad old days of Boston driving: complete free-for-alls where no one paid any attention to right-of-way rules.

    In any case, the story goes like this: My cousin’s husband was driving on a Kenyan rotary, taking their daughter somewhere or other, when he got into a collision with a truck. Both drivers had gotten out of their vehicles when a police officer drove up. The police officer asked what had happened. The truck driver, who was Kenyan, gave his account of the collision, saying that my cousin’s husband was entirely to blame. My cousin’s husband then gave his account of the collision, but with a sinking feeling that the police officer was going to believe the truck driver. The police officer listened to both stories, then said to the truck driver, “I believe him [pointing to my cousin’s husband’s white hair] because he’s an elder.”

    This story shows that other cultures have other attitudes towards elders; our current American attitudes towards elders are not the only possible attitudes. Had my cousin’s husband gotten into a traffic accident in one of the rotaries around Boston, he would not have been given the benefit of the doubt because of his age. In American culture, rather than treating elders with respect, we are more likely patronize or condescend to elders. This can serve as a very basic definition of age discrimination in our society today: age discrimination is the widely-held belief that elders are always less able, and less capable, than middle aged and young adults, and more prone to error.

    It is not clear to me where this strange belief comes from. Judaism and Christianity, the root sources of many of the ethical values in our society, both teach respect for elders. In the Hebrew Bible, Proverbs 16:31 tells us “Grey hair is a crown of glory; it is gained in a righteous life.” One of the commandments that God gives to Israel, as told in Leviticus 19:32, says this: “You shall rise before the aged, and defer to the old.” Yet our American culture tends to pass lightly over the commandments given by God from the book of Leviticus, instead focusing on God’s commandments as stated in chapter 20 of the book of Exodus, where it only says, “Honor thy father and mother.” Thus as is true of most cultures around the world, American culture picks and choose which aspects of its religious heritage that it prefers to follow. And on the whole, American culture chooses to emphasize two different interpretations of our religious heritage. On the one hand, there is the strand of American culture that teaches submission to authority — where children submit to parents, wives submit to husbands, and the populace submits to the rulers. On the other hand, there is the strand of American culture that teaches equality between all people, as epitomized in Leviticus 19:18, “you shall love your neighbor as yourself,” words later repeated by Jesus of Nazareth. Yet neither of these strands of American culture teaches respect for elders; you are not going to find anyone saying that we should post Proverbs 16:31 in all school classrooms.

    From this, you can see that American culture tends to ignore its core religious teachings about respect for elders. Are there then any widely-held ethical principles in our American culture which can offer us guidance regarding age discrimination?

    Many Americans no longer rely on religion, but instead turn to science to provide justification for their ethical judgements. And beginning in the late nineteenth, Social Darwinism purported to offer ethical guidance, based on science, on how to structure society and social relations. Social Darwinists took Charles Darwin’s evolutionary theory of the survival of the fittest and applied it to human society.

    This held true across the political spectrum; Peter Dobkin Hall of the School of Public Affairs at City College of New York writes that Social Darwinism “served the purposes of both liberals and conservatives.” Political conservatives argued that giving aid to poor people only served to destroy their work ethic; Peter Hall quotes an 1874 report on pauperism in New York City which argued “The public example of alms induce many to be paupers who were never so before.” Political liberals also became Social Darwinists, though with a different emphasis. Peter Hall writes that while “conservatives emphasized the role of nature — competition, natural selection, and heredity — in shaping evolution, liberals stressed the role of nurture — humanity’s ability to manipulate the environment to foster evolutionary progress.”(1) Thus, Social Darwinism prompted Americans across the political spectrum to appeal to scientific data to justify their proposed solutions to social and economic problems, including how to treat elders.

    These Social Darwinist arguments remain powerful in the twenty-first century. In the first reading, we heard an example of the Social Darwinist thinking as applied by a political conservative to the COVID-19 pandemic. In late March of 2020, a week or so into the COVID pandemic, Texas Lt. Governor Dan Patrick, then age 69, argued that elders like himself should be willing to take a risk with their health in order to keep businesses open and the economy going. Faced with mandatory shut-downs, Patrick said, “Those of us who are 70 plus, we’ll take care of ourselves.” He went on to add, “No one reached out to me and said, ‘As a senior citizen, are you willing to take a chance on your survival in exchange for keeping the America that America loves for its children and grandchildren?’ [But] if that is the exchange, I’m all in.” This is classic Social Darwinist thinking, which begins with economic data, then applies a survival of the fittest theory to social policy, with the ultimate goal of making a stronger society.

    The second reading exemplifies the way political liberals have used Social Darwinism. Maggie Kuhn, founder of the Gray Panthers, argued that there could be plenty of money to fund benefits for elders — this could be accomplished by changing social policy to prioritize elder benefits over military hardware, such as expensive warships and airplanes. More to the point, Kuhn believed that society would be stronger if we adopted policies to eliminate poverty among elders. This again is classic Social Darwinist thinking, which begins with sociological data, then argues that humanity can manipulate the environment to create evolutionary progress in our society.

    Today, in the twenty-first century, Social Darwinism continues to dominate American thinking on social questions like about how to treat elders. We never see appeals to religious texts like Proverbs 16:31. Both political conservatives and political liberals, good Social Darwinists as they are, argue that our policies regarding elders should be guided by the data collected by social scientists — economists, sociologists, and so on. The problem is that the liberals and the conservatives use scientific data to come up with opposing solutions to the same problem.

    So traditional American religion fails to give adequate guidance on how to treat elders, and appeals to scientific data wind up giving us contradictory advice. Perhaps there are other sources of ethical or religious guidance that would be more helpful. Since this is a Unitarian Universalist congregation, let’s take a look at how our Unitarian Universalist worldview might offer us more secure guidance on how we should treat elders.

    First of all, as Unitarian Universalists, we place a great emphasis on individual human beings. The old Universalists spoke of the supreme worth of every human personality. Among the Unitarians, people like Emerson and Thoreau found infinite universes within each human personality. In the late twentieth century, Unitarian Universalists encapsulated both these old teaching in the phrase “respect for the inherent worthiness and dignity of each person.” (As a parenthetical note, many other religious groups say similar things. Some liberal Quakers, for example, like to say that there is that of God in each person; we might argue with them about what they mean by God, and whether the God they talk about is something we can believe in; but we can see that they are saying much the same thing that the old Universalists said, and that Emerson and Thoreau said: each one of us has something of supreme worth within us.)

    If we truly affirm the supreme worth of every human personality, then this gives us a starting point to understand why age discrimination is bad. Let’s return for a moment to Texas Lt. Governor Dan Patrick. If he makes the personal choice that he’s willing to die of COVID for the sake of the younger generation, then we can respect his individual choice, and we can even celebrate his willingness to put his personal duty to humanity over his own individual survival. However, if he makes this statement as a public official in such a way that it can be understood to encourage others to make the same sacrifice, and further it he seems to encourage public policies that may force other elders to make the same choice he wants to make, then we can challenge him on ethical grounds. Because we value the supreme worth of every human personality, we recognize that each person is going to have slightly different priorities. Some people in Dan Patrick’s age cohort might have been be pleased to follow his example, but others might have had ethically sound reasons for preferring social policies giving them a better chance of surviving COVID. Think, for example, of a 69 year old grandparent who had sole custody of their eight-year old grandchild: in our view, that grandparent would have had a valid reason to want government policies that would help them survive COVID, so they could continue to care for their grandchild. Or, for a more Emersonian example, think of a 69 year old novelist who is the midst of writing a great novel; perhaps they should not be forced to follow Dan Patrick’s example, and risk their life before their novel is complete. If I truly believe in the supreme worth of every human personality, then I’m going to be cautious about public policies that put large groups of individual human personalities at risk of extinction, just because they happen to be part of some group or other.

    By now you can see that this principle can be easily applied to the issue of age discrimination. Once we affirm the supreme worth of every human personality, it becomes obvious that this is true regardless of age. A newborn baby’s personality is supremely worthy, as is that of a teenager — and we hold the personality of a middle-aged adult to be equally worthy as that of an elder. It doesn’t matter what age a person is; no matter what their age, we find an inherent worthiness in every human personality. From this basic principle we can generate a more pragmatic ethical statement to help guide our actions. The book of Leviticus phrased offers just such a pragmatic ethical statement: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

    Admittedly, this is still a fairly general statement. But how might this general statement be applied to the specific situation of society’s treatment of elders? A partial answer to that question can be found in the Gray Panther organization. Maggie Kuhn founded the Gray Panthers specifically to combat age discrimination. So let’s take a look at what the Gray Panthers do.

    Today, the most active Gray Panthers chapter is the New York City chapter. The New York City Gray Panthers engage in a wide range of actions to help end age discrimination. At one extreme, they carry out very simple, hands-on, one-to-one actions, such as their nursing home card project, called “Caring by Card.” The New York City Gray Panther website describes this project as follows: “Nursing homes are sad and lonely places to live, with very little personal freedom for residents. People living in nursing homes all too often feel forgotten. Will you join us in lifting up our elderly friends by reminding them that they deeply matter and are loved? Will you join us in sending handmade cards to a nursing home…?” To put it in larger context, the “Caring by Card” project addresses the social situation which forces us to put some elders into bleak nursing homes — not through data-driven social science interventions — not through appeals to religious scripture — but through the one-on-one human action of sending a handmade card to someone living in a nursing home.

    At the other end of their range of actions, the New York Gray City Panthers work on wide-ranging global policy initiatives. They have “consultative status” with the United Nations, and have consulted on policy issues ranging from the international rights of older persons, to the status of older women.

    And then, somewhere in the middle of their range of actions, the New York Gray City Panthers host monthly educational webinar series. At these, they invite scholars and policy makers to speak on emerging topics of concern. In October, they had a speaker on the future of health care at the Veteran’s Administration; in September they hosted a panel discussion titled “The Power of Age-Diversity in Dismantling Ageism.”

    For me, the signature initiative of the Gray Panthers is the way they have consistently taught that elders must work with youth to combat ageism. Maggie Kuhn called this “youth and age in action.” When I was eighteen years old, I heard Maggie Kuhn talk about this principle. I had become a committed pacifist under the influence of my Unitarian Universalist minister, and I was at a rally in support of stronger nuclear weapons treaties. Maggie Kuhn spoke at that rally, and made the point that young people and elders are natural allies to work together on things like limiting nuclear weapons — youth and elders have more time and a greater willingness to tackle difficult issues like world peace. She was making another related point at the same time — the best way for elders to tackle age discrimination was to build working alliances with younger people, and to work with them on problems of mutual concern. In the second reading this morning, she clearly articulated this principle: “I feel strongly that the old must not simply advocate on their own behalf. We must act as elders of the tribe, looking out for the best interests of the future and preserving the precious compact between the generations.”

    This is perhaps the best solution to the age discrimination problem. Those of us who are elders (which includes me, as I’m now officially classed as an elder) — we can follow Maggie Kuhn’s advice and reach out to younger people, we can work together with youth on projects of mutual concern. By acting as elders of the tribe, we can become more open to the possibility of working with younger people.

    Indeed, many of us in this congregation are already doing this kind of collaborative work across the generations. I know of elders from our congregation who work with younger people on a wide range of topics: empowering women; supporting food banks such as End Hunger New England; advocating for world peace; supporting the arts; and so on. And within our own congregation, we model how intergenerational collaboration can work in the way we govern ourselves: our Religious Education committee includes a teenager, middle-aged adults, and an elder; the same is true of our governing board.

    Obviously, none of this will magically end age discrimination. But it shows us a good way to begin to end age discrimination. And by working together across the generations, we can live out one of our core ethical and religious teachings — that we value the supreme worth of every human personality. Or, more succinctly, to paraphrase the Hebrew Bible, we aim to love our neighbors as we love ourselves.

    Note

    (1) Peter Dobkin Hall, “Social Darwinism and the poor,” Social Welfare History Project, Virginia Commonwealth University, 2014, https://socialwelfare.library.vcu.edu/issues/social-darwinism-poor/ accessed 8 Nov. 2025.

  • What Do We Tell Children about God, Death, etc.?

    Sermon copyright (c) 2025 Dan Harper. As delivered to First Parish in Cohasset. The text below has not been proofread. The sermon as delivered contained substantial improvisation.

    Reading

    The reading was from an essay titled “Home-grown Unitarian Universalism” by William J. Doherty. Dr. Doherty recently retired as professor of Family Social Science at the University of Minnesota and has worked with couples and families as a therapist since 1977. This essay was published in UU World magazine in 2008.

    “It was 1980. I had been a Unitarian Universalist for about two years when my seven-year-old son Eric said to me, ‘Dad, what happens to us after we die? Is there a heaven?’

    “‘Well, some people believe that after we die we go to heaven where we live forever,’ I replied, ‘and other people believe that when we die, our life is over and we live on through the memories of people who have known and loved us.’

    “‘What do you believe?’ said Eric.

    “‘Well, some people believe that after we die we go to heaven, and other people believe….’

    “‘But what do you believe?’

    “‘OK,’ I said. ‘I believe that when we die we live on through other people but not in a heaven.’

    “Eric took this in and responded with words I will never forget: ‘I’ll believe what you believe for now, and when I grow up I’ll make up my own mind.’

    “My seven-year-old was teaching me something. He was being a developmentally appropriate UU child, but I was not being a developmentally appropriate UU parent. He knew he needed answers, for now, to an important religious question, and he also knew that he could seek his own answers when he was ready. For my part, being a former Roman Catholic still fleeing dogmatism, I was afraid of imposing my beliefs on my child. So I responded to him as if he were a 20-year-old taking a course on world religions. I had a better sense of what not to do as a UU parent — don’t impose my beliefs — than of what to do, namely, give him religious guidance.”

    Sermon

    Here’s the question I’d like to consider with you: What do we tell children about God, death, and all those other big religious and existential questions? In many religious traditions, I’d answer that question by giving you scripted answers to all the most important religious questions. But Unitarian Universalism has no dogma — no scripted answers to life’s big questions. This complicates matters somewhat. If we don’t tell other people what to believe, then what are we supposed to say to children when they ask these big questions?

    Yet as we heard in the first reading, sometimes Unitarian Universalist kids want a firm and definite answer. When professor William J. Doherty’s seven year old child Eric asked, “Dad, what happens to us after we die? Is there a heaven?” Doherty reacted as a good Unitarian Universalist. Doherty gave his son a college professor’s lecture: “Well, some people believe that after we die we go to heaven where we live forever … and other people believe that when we die, our life is over and we live on through the memories of people who have known and loved us.” This was not the reply Eric wanted, and he demanded to know what his father believed. And when Doherty finally told him, Eric said: “I’ll believe what you believe for now, and when I grow up I’ll make up my own mind.”

    So if you’re a parent, and like Bill Doherty you have a child who has not yet reached puberty, often there will be a fairly simple answer to the question: What do we tell children about God, death, and all those other big religious and existential questions? You tell your child what your answers to those questions are, assuming they will accept your answers for now. Sometimes you may find it challenging to provide ready answers to questions of what you believe, but for the most part children will be more or less content with the answers given by their parents.

    However, if a child asks you one of those questions, and you are not their parent, then you have to give a different kind of answer. If the child is not your own child, you cannot simply say, “What we believe is this.” If you did that, you’d be stepping into the role of their parent; not even grandparents can get away with that. That leaves you with three options. First, you can give an answer that sounds like the first answer Bill Doherty gave to his son Eric, something to the effect of: “Well, some people think, thus and so, while other people think something else.” Second, you could tell the child what your personal answer to that question might be. And the third option is to combine those two — so if, for example, a child asks you, “What happens after we die?” you can reply something like this: “Different people have different answers to that question; some people believe that you go to a place called heaven after you die; some people believe that you are reborn as another person or animal after you die; some people believe that you when die you can live on in other people’s memories; and what I believe is….” Thus in the third option, you first tell the child some of the answers that other people give, and you conclude by stating what you believe.

    These strategies work fairly well for children. Once a child hits puberty, though, everything changes. Developmental psychologist tell us that in the middle school years, young people begin for the first time to have the ability to reason abstractly; developmental psychologist Jean Piaget called this the formal operational stage of cognitive development. When young people achieve the ability to reason abstractly, this new stage of cognitive development gives them the ability to question everything. While this can be exhausting for their parents, for the young people themselves it can be an incredibly exciting time. When you’re in your middle school years, your cognitive horizons begin to expand rapidly: all of a sudden, you can understand things that you couldn’t understand before; entire new worlds open up before you. And while this can be an exhausting developmental stage for their parents, those of us who teach or mentor young adolescents can also find this an incredibly exciting time. Personally, I love talking with young adolescents as they use their new ability to reason abstractly to tackle big existential questions; I love their fearlessness and excitement as they begin to think hard about life’s biggest questions for the first time.

    Once people get to the age where they can reason abstractly, you can’t respond in the same way you respond to children. When a young adolescent asks, “What happens after we die?” they don’t want the same kind of response that a child wants. In fact, if a young adolescent asks you a question like that, the best way to answer is to respond in exactly the same way you’d respond if one of your age peers asked you that same question. Most especially, it’s important not to be condescending or patronizing — no more than you would condescend or patronize someone your own age who asked a serious question. This is true no matter what age you are; I’ve actually seen older teens condescend to younger teens, and not surprisingly, it didn’t go well. I’ve also seen middle aged adults patronize their elders — once again, it didn’t go well.

    I actually have a couple of theories that explain why some people are condescending or patronizing when asked one of life’s biggest questions like what happens after we die, or is there a deity, or is there any meaning to life. First theory: If someone asks you a big question like that, and you haven’t really thought it through, you may try to avoid answering the question by being condescending or patronizing. Second theory: Some people turn condescending or patronizing because they don’t want to have to talk about that subject to that person. So, for example, when your aging parent who’s in poor health asks you, “What happens after we die?” — and you know they’re asking that question because they’re thinking about their own imminent death — you might try to dodge the whole subject by saying something like, “Now let’s not talk about such things right now. Let’s make sure we feel all comfy and cosy” — which while well-meaning sounds a bit patronizing or condescending.

    Let’s dwell for a moment on that particular situation of someone who’s in ill health and who is probably already thinking about their own death. If someone in that situation asks you “What happens when we die?” — you may find it emotionally difficult to give your own answer. If so, you can simply turn the question back to them, and say: “Well, I’d have to think about it. But what do YOU think happens after we die?” And then all you have to do is listen carefully to what they say.

    Indeed, it’s always a good idea to be prepared to listen carefully to the other person whenever someone brings up one of life’s biggest questions. Even when you’re talking to your own child, you can give them your answer to whatever big question they raised, then check to make sure what you said makes sense to them — did you use words they could understand, and did they follow what you said? If you’re talking with a child, it’s also important to remember that children can have profound spiritual experiences at a very young age, experiences that they might not be able to articulate well. The author Dan Wakefield, in his 1985 memoir “Returning,” described a profound spiritual experience he had when he was a child:

    “On an ordinary school night I went to bed, turned out the light, said the Lord’s prayer as I always did, and prepared to go to sleep. I lay there for only a few moments, not long enough to go to sleep (I was clearly and vividly awake during this whole experience) when I had the sensation that my whole body was filled with light. It was a white light of such brightness and intensity that it seemed almost alive. It was neither hot nor cold, neither burning nor soothing, it was simply there, filling every part of my body from my head to my feet.”

    Dan Wakefield’s parents were nominally Christian, and so of course he understood this experience in Christian terms, as the light of Christ. Now Wakefield wrote that he didn’t tell anyone about his experience for some years. But when finally he did tell an adult about this experience, I hope that adult would not be dismissive of something that felt like a very real experience to him. Sometimes when children ask a parent one of life’s big questions, they not only want to know what they parent thinks; sometimes they also want the parent to listen to something they have to say.

    Whether it’s an aging parent confronting their own mortality, or a child who’s had a profound spiritual experience, sometimes when people ask one of life’s big questions, they’re using that question as an opening to tell you about something they’ve experienced, or something they’ve thought hard about. So when one of these big questions arises, you have to be prepared both to give an answer, and to listen carefully.

    It’s even more important to be prepared to listen carefully if you’re talking to someone who has reached the age where they can reason abstractly, whether that person is a teen or an adult. I’ll give a couple of examples of what I mean. When someone asks, “What happens after we die?” — it might be that they’re simply curious to know, it might mean that one of their friends brought the subject up, or the question might be prompted by a health scare they have had. Or when someone asks, “is there a God?” — it might be they have a straightforward intellectual interest in the question, it might be they’ve heard something in popular culture the piqued their interest, or it might be that they’ve had some kind of transcendent experience (like the one Dan Wakefield had) which they’re trying to make sense of. In other words, sometimes what seems to be a simple question has other layers of meaning — and of course at other times, what seems to be a simple question actually is a simple question.

    It might seem that you’ll have the easiest time when someone asks you a simple question that really is nothing more than a simple question. But a simple question that is nothing more than a simple question might actually be the hardest one to answer, because then you have to give an answer that is honest and genuine. If your aging parent starts talking about what happens after you die, and you figure out that what they really want to talk about is their own feelings about their own approaching death (which once happened to me), then all you have to do is listen to their their feelings and concerns; you don’t have to try to articulate your own half-formed answer to the question. If, on the other hand, another adult asks you what happens after we die and you realize they sincerely want to know, I feel we have a duty to do the best we can to answer that question; and this is true whether the person asking the question is a child, a teen, or an adult. We have a duty to take other people seriously.

    This implies that we should spend some time thinking through some of life’s biggest questions, so that when we are asked one of those questions, we can give a more or less coherent answer. Because of my job, I actually have these conversations fairly often, and I’ve come up with five basic questions that cover most — not all, but most — of life’s big questions. I’ve found it helpful to think through these questions on my own, so that when someone springs a big life question, I won’t be completely at a loss. I offer these questions hoping they might be useful to you in the same way.

    Here’s the first big question: What should I do with my life? — or you might ask: What’s the purpose of my life? For most Unitarian Universalists, this question is the most important of all religious questions. We are a pragmatic people, and this question forces us to think about our own ethics and morality, to think about what we want to prioritize in our lives.

    Second big question: Who am I? — which goes with several related questions, including: What am I capable of? What kind of being am I? This question often comes up after you’ve tried to think through the first question. Because if you want to figure out what you should do with your life, maybe first you have to figure out who you are.

    Third big question: What’s the nature of goodness? — and there are other questions related to this, like: Where does goodness come from? Where do suffering and evil come from? The question of goodness is also a major concern for most Unitarian Universalists. As a pragmatic people, we want to make the world a better place. And if you want to make the world a better place, then it’s probably a good idea to figure out what you man by “better.”

    Fourth big question: What can I know? — which goes along with related questions like: How do I know what I know? How do I know what is true? For many Unitarian Universalists, questions about truth encompass many of the traditional religious questions like: Is there a God? and: What happens after death? Thus if a Unitarian Universalist says that they do not believe in God, their Unitarian Universalist friends may treat this as a question of how we know what is true, saying: How do you know that God does not exist? Or if a Unitarian Universalist says that they do believe in God, their Unitarian Universalist friends are going to ask the same question: How do you know? There’s a reason why we tend to lump these traditional religious questions together and treat them as questions about truth. Most of us know people who hold a vast range of beliefs. Thinking just of the people I happen to know, my acquaintances include people who are atheists, agnostics, New Age-ers, Pagans, many different varieties of Christian, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, even a Zoroastrian. Each of these people has a worldview that claims to be true, yet they disagree in fundamental ways. So how can I know which of them is right; how can I know what is true?

    Fifth, and finally: Does my life have any meaning? (And if so, where does that meaning come from?) For many Unitarian Universalists, the question about what happens after death often resolves to the deeper question of whether an individual human life has any meaning or not. And many of us are existentialist who believe that there is no pre-existing meaning but that we create meaning through our actions; so to ask if my life has meaning is to inquire into the meaning I’m already making through the way I’m living right now.

    Now let’s circle back to my opening question: What do we tell children about God, death, and all those other big religious questions? One partial answer I’ve given is that we parents are going to provides answers those questions for their own children, at least until their children develop the ability to reason abstractly. Another partial answer: when someone asks one of those questions, we should listen carefully, because sometimes when people ask you those big questions they’re really saying something else. Another partial answer: because we are part of the human community, we have the responsibility to take such questions seriously, and not try to dodge them or dismiss them. So those are some partial answers to the opening question: What do we tell children about God, death, and all those other big religious questions?

    And the ultimate answer is this: The only way to provide answers to the big questions about life, the universe, and everything — is to spend time thinking about those questions yourself. That’s actually why I keep coming here every week, to keep myself in practice at answering these big questions — because this congregation is a place where people do ask those big questions, where people do think seriously about them.