Thomas Jefferson Memorial Church—Unitarian Universalist

“No Denying Denial”

Rev. Leslie Takahashi Morris

September 23, 2007

Journalist Bob Woodward tells this story about interviewing President George Bush in 2003 about the Iraq War:

It was eight months after the invasion and weapons of mass destruction had not been found.

“On weapons of mass destruction,” I asked.

“Sure,” the president said.

One of my bosses at the Washington Post had suggested I ask, “Was the president misled—“

“No.”

“No, okay,” I repeated his reply.

“The answer is absolutely not.”

“What happened? I asked.

“What do you mean what happened?” [President] Bush asked, sounding as if he had not been the one who had given all those speeches about Weapons of Mass Destruction.

As the conversation progressed, the president went on to talk about intelligence and the need to bomb suspected weapons sites. As Woodward continued to press him, the President spoke about the components of weapons, Iraq’s possession of other kinds of weapons and the ways they had been hidden in the past, as well as the fact that people in elite academic circles don’t understand these things. “The status report,” Woodward persisted.” Is that we haven’t found weapons. That’s all.” “True, true, true.” The President said.

Woodward details this as an example of Bush’s “habit of denial” noting that it had taken five minutes and 18 seconds for the President to acknowledge the fact that the United States had not found any weapons of mass destruction…. While we might want to get high and mighty about that, the truth is that denial plays a huge part in all of our lives. And many of us would find a mere five minutes a short indulgence of that habit.

For there is no denying denial. Those elephants may be unseen, and they are still ubiquitous. Denial is a basic part of the fight or flight response—and linked to a circular pattern of fear—anxiety—aggression.

Denial thrives because it helps us avoid our fears. We fear death so we deny it. We fear loss so we deny it. We fear what might be happening to our children so we deny the problem in our marriage. We fear we will not find the right words and so we deny a friend support in a time of need. We fear debt, so we ignore the fact we are not paying off the credit card each month, or that if we had in cash what we owe, we could buy a new luxury car. We fear that the polar ice cap is melting, that our community has problems not easily solved, we fear that we are at war—these are all big truths that can feel overwhelming. The examples are everywhere, for it is not one elephant—more like a stampede.

As people engaged together in the co-creative act of liberal religion, we should be at an advantage in breaking the denial habit, for aren’t we the ones who believe in the possibility of redemption in this life? And yet somehow that hope and that idealism can get in the way of truly taking on the issues in our own lives and in the collective breathing of our community and the world that we find ourselves wishing to deny. We fear that our deepest beliefs will not overcome the difficulties, that a deviation from the paths we know will derail us forever—and that some things are out of our control. Because, of course, they are.

Buddhists tell of how the Buddha sat under the Bodhi Tree to receive enlightenment and encountered the hard, the ugly and the unanswerable. Mara the Evil One came to taunt and torment him with demon armies. Author Tara Brach says the enlightenment of the Buddha, was not that he overcame the demons, it is that he named them, he did not deny them. By welcoming and greeting the ones we hate and fear, we defuse their power to paralyze us with negative emotions or denial. Buddhist teacher Joko Beck notes, “We have to find the pain we have been running from. In fact, we need to learn to rest in it and let its searing power transform us.” Without this, we have no hope of realizing the promise of being one, or reaching toward those moments of our high resolve.

Like Mara, denial has many guises—procrastination, buffering, anger. Denial is a very basic survival tool and it is also a potentially deadly one, deadly to our world and also to our own acceptance and realization of our own hopes and dreams. Tara Brach says we also have a “habit of fear.” And if the habit of denial is tied to fear, then our habits seem overwhelming.

I suspect some of you in the meditative time felt as if you would like to think about almost anything, besides the things that was asking for your attention. Perhaps it was an old hurt you are carrying—an injury or a harm that someone had done to you. Perhaps it was the way you’ve been unkind—or even cruel—to someone you love. Perhaps it is the way you have been abusing your body or your mind with addictive substances or overwork. Perhaps it is that small inconsiderate act or set of actions that you find hard to forgive in yourself. Whatever it is, the “habit of denial” would suggest you ignore it. The “habit of fear” would say you push it away. Brach, from whose work that meditation adapted, suggests that the energy of resistance is greater than the energy of acceptance and hospitality.

And while acknowledging suffering is at the core of Buddhism, it is not alone in resisting the culture. The new evangelical push towards addressing the issues around global climate change was all over the news this summer. Some Christian churches are holding altar calls to invite people down not to surrender their souls—rather to surrender their credit cards. And religious people of all natures are now struggling with what is the right response to the war and those who will remain in Iraq, no matter what we do. In this sense, we are not alone on our “search for truth and meaning.”

For each of us, the habits of denial and fear wear different faces. I might be in denial because I fear that acknowledging a hurt or a pain might require something larger than any response I can contribute. In my living room of elephants, I am going to tend to get anxious—after all, bumping into creatures you refuse to see still gives you bruises, and angry because I would really like the room for a couch and some chairs.

Most of my summer reading seemed to be focused on the many ways I had been in denial—about myself, about the earth, about the war, about what our economy is doing to those at the bottom, about our role in the world. My sleeper book for this summer was Manfred Steger’s Globalization: A Very Short Introduction which shook me out of my denial. It was shocking to stumble over the elephantine truth that corporate sales of some large multinationals now rival the Gross National Product of some countries and, in fact, 51 of the world’s largest economies are corporations while only 49 are countries. IBM generates more economic activity than Ireland; Wal-Mart more than Poland; and Exxon Mobil more than South Africa.

For some of you, any mention of the economics in our service is irritating because it seems so non-spiritual. Yet this has huge implications about how we live and how our children and their children will live. Or maybe it is the war that is irritating because no path of action seems simply right to you, or it might be the environment, or the problems we have been trying to name in our community, or the idea of personal financial difficulty, or inner life angst.

You might just say—stop—it is too many things! We cannot all address everything and yet, we can do what we can to extend the hospitality that is comprehension and in doing so be in a place to lend our power should an opportunity to act—or to support those that act—come along. Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh writes, “To have room to hold what is difficult we have to have a place of safety.” One of the benefits of being in a community of travelers is that we can share the responsibility, and take turns being the actor while helping to hold one another’s pain and that is no small thing. Sometimes people say to me—we have too many things going on in the church, we should get rid of some and I realize they are feeling a personal responsibility to be able to participate in all of those things rather than a communal responsibility to be receptive and nurture them. Together we build that place of safety and hope that is a collective response to the world in which we live.

Yesterday marked Yom Kippur—one of the highest holy days in the Jewish year. Yom Kippur is a day for atonement, for being at one with that which you have done—and having the chance to start again. It is part of a wisdom tradition that understands the need for a ritualized time for forgiveness and—especially for a time when we can forgive ourselves. Only then can we claim the power we have.

What is seeking acknowledgement in your life? Where are the places where you give yourself the room to name it, where you have the safety to acknowledge it? Where do you break the habit of denial, the habit of fear and embrace your own power? How can your religious community help you? Let these questions open our hearts so that we may meet our fears at the door and welcome them. So may it be.

Benediction words of Thich Nhat Hanh

We need to manage our feelings of powerlessness, of being overwhelmed by despair. We do have power and we should know how to use it to effect change. We have to organize ourselves. Openness and loving speech can work miracles.”

Meditation:

I invite you to think of a time when you did something you now regret. It may be hard to think of something—I invite you to find something, no matter how small, that represents a time when you did not behave as you now wish you had….remember the circumstances, who you were with, what it was about…

This may be something that you have, in the past, pushed out of your mind….Instead, in this moment, invite it in…acknowledge it….

Now think about the thoughts you were having at that time, what was going rhrough your mind…Now think about your emotions. Were you scared? Sad? Angry? Let the feelings be as full as they want to be.

Now turn your focus on yourself. On how you feel about your behavior? Notice how you are responding—are you fearful? Are you angry? Are you gentle and understanding? If you are going to be

Imagine yourself responding to the person you were in that regrettable moment by turning away in anger. Imagine yourself turning away and responding to the situation with a no. No no no. Extend that no for a moment and take it what it means when you answer your life with a No.

Now I invite you to explore forgiving yourself. It may be you can simply, in this moment, offer forgiveness and understanding to yourself. It may be that you cannot—if you cannot, I invite you to imagine surrounding the anger you still feel toward yourself with a larger gentleness, or even just a beginning of gentleness. Imagine this as a turning, turning from “no” to yes. Yes yes yes. Feel the possibility of greeting your life, in its highs and its low, its noble moments and its shameful ones with yes.

So take another moment. If you have managed to offer forgiveness to yourself, take a moment to receive that. To feel the space it offers. To feel the invitation to step out into a new relationship with your life.

Take another moment and feel the connection to yourself.