A little boy was told by his doctor that he could save his sister’s life by giving her some blood.  The six-year-old girl was near death, victim of a disease from which the boy had made a marvelous recovery two years earlier.  Her only chance for restoration was a blood transfusion from someone who had previously conquered the illness.  Since the two children had the same rare blood type, the boy was an ideal donor.

     “Johnny, would you like to give your blood for Mary?” the doctor asked.

     The boy hesitated.  His lower lip started to tremble.  Then he smiled, and said, “Sure, Doc.  I’ll give my blood for my sister.”

     Soon the two children were wheeled into the operating room – Mary, pale and thin; Johnny, robust and the picture of health.  Neither spoke, but when their eyes met, Johnny grinned.

     As his blood siphoned into Mary’s veins, one could almost see new life come into her tired body.  The ordeal was almost over when Johnny’s brave little voice broke the silence, “Say, Doc, when do I die?”

     It was only then that the doctor realized what the moment of hesitation, the trembling of the lip, had meant earlier.  Little Johnny actually thought that in giving his blood to his sister he was giving up his life!  And in that brief moment, he had made his great decision!

     Rarely, if ever, are we called upon to make that level of sacrifice to help those in need.  But when we love and care for someone deeply, we do want to do whatever we can to ease their suffering, or to help them through difficult times.  This is certainly true within our families, those nearest and dearest to us.

     One way to think of a congregation, a religious community, is as a larger, extended family of people with shared values and hopes and dreams.  As such, there is a natural desire to care for one another within the community.  I have found in my time here that an important part of your identity as a community is that you are caring and supportive of one another.

     But of course this is not unique to our congregation, or even to our faith tradition.  Nearly all faith traditions explicitly call for caring and compassion toward others:

     From Christianity: “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.  No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” (John 15:12-14)

     From Hinduism: “What sort of religion can it be without compassion?  You need to show compassion to all living beings.  Compassion is root of all religious faiths.” (Basavanna, Vachana 247)

     From Islam:  “Be kind to parents, and the near kinsman, and to orphans, and to the needy, and to the neighbor who is of kin, and to the neighbor who is a stranger, and to the companion at your side, and to the traveler.”  (Qur’an 4.36-37)

     From Judaism:  “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.”  (Leviticus 19:18)

     From Jainism:  “Have benevolence towards all living beings, joy at the sight of the virtuous, compassion and sympathy for the afflicted, and tolerance towards the indolent and ill-behaved.”  (Tattvarthasutra 7.11)

     From the Baha’i faith:  “Be kind to all people, love humanity, consider all mankind as your relations and servants of the most high God.”  (Foundations of World Unity, p. 73)

     Similar sentiments can be found in Buddhism, in Taoism, in Sikhism, in Confucianism, and in Native American traditions, among others.  The message across religions is consistent:  be compassionate and take care of one another.  But are we caring and compassionate only because our religious traditions instruct us so?  No, I think it’s more basic than that.  I think care and compassion are basic human impulses based on the spiritual understanding voiced by Pema Chodron as follows:  “True compassion does not come from wanting to help out those less fortunate than ourselves, but from realizing our kinship with all beings.”

     When we hear of children suffering from hunger and neglect, or of elderly people living out their final days in loneliness and isolation, or of gays and lesbians attempting to live lives of integrity in the face of hatred, suspicion and persecution, our hearts go out to them, and cry for them.  And all the more so when we recognize that these are not ‘the other.’  These are our families, our friends, our neighbors; all a part of the same human family to which we belong.

     It’s also important for us to remember that each of us has our own struggles, our own pain, our own sorrow.  That’s one reason why we gather together each week in our caring community, to offer each other support, encouragement, and nurturance.  It’s fitting and appropriate that we should do what we can to ease the suffering beyond our walls, but we must never forget what we can do for those within these walls as well.

     In a service last year I talked about compassion as a spiritual practice.  At that time I said that cultivating a practice of compassion requires seeing, and listening, and reflecting on the nature of the suffering we encounter.  And it requires starting with yourself.  The first step is to allow yourself to feel the suffering in the world, including your own, and then to move, not away from pain, but toward it, with caring.  As your practice continues, you may find your circle of compassion expanding to include not only yourself, your friends and neighbors, but also other creatures, all of nature, even the inanimate world.

     But today, our emphasis is on the finite circle that encompasses our own religious community.  The question I raise today is how we as individuals, and as an institution, can express our care for one another effectively as we minister to one another.

     Let me say right here that, in my experience, this is indeed a caring community.  A great deal of caring goes on around here.  I want especially to express my thanks to those who have worked with the Caring Committee in recent years.  Your efforts are appreciated.  But I also must say that the institutional structures for caring may not have kept up with the growth of the community.  Now, what about that word, ‘institutional’?  Doesn’t “institutional caring” sound like an oxymoron?  Isn’t caring an individual, personal matter?  Yes, of course.  Institutions don’t care for people.  People care for people.
 But institutional structures can be helpful, even necessary, in assuring that needs are known, and that people’s care and compassion can be directed to where it’s needed.  In a small church, where everyone knows what’s going on in everyone else’s lives, it’s not a problem.  When someone is struggling, everyone knows it, and those with the time and the inclination are there to help.

     As a community grows larger, it’s easier to fall through the cracks.  It’s hard to keep track of a couple of hundred folks.  Someone’s absence is much harder to notice than their presence.    Many of you have expressed your gratitude for the caring response you’ve experienced in times of need.  But we must acknowledge as well those sitting in our midst wondering where the cards or flowers, the visits or calls were when they were hurting.  I, for one, offer my sincere apology to those of you that I’ve overlooked when a call or a kind word would have been appreciated.

     I may not have heard of your need.  I may have gotten caught up in something less important, but more urgent.  I may have assumed, incorrectly, that someone else’s response was sufficient.  Or I may simply have forgotten to write it down, and then let it slip my mind.  Again, I’m sorry.

     In the presence of such human weakness, I think we need to put structures in place that can compensate for our fallibility.  And that is what we are currently trying to do.  We aren’t starting from scratch, or re-inventing the wheel.  We are simply trying to tune up the structures that are already in place through our Caring Committee.  You’ll find in your order of service a form with which you can indicate your interest in being a part of the Caring Response Team.  Many of you have already signed on, and I thank you.  I also invite all of you to an informational and organizational meeting of the Team this coming Wednesday evening at 7:00 p. m. here at the Fellowship.

     We will begin to hone the structures needed to help us care for one another more comprehensively.  There are several key components required for the success of our caring system.  The first is a cadre of caring helpers.  That we have already; we simply need to make the best use of them.  The second requirement is effective communications.  There need to be clear channels for getting information into the right hands.  We can’t address needs we don’t know about.  Needs must be made known to the Fellowship office, to me, or to the Caring Committee.  We can then direct the information as necessary to see that appropriate help is provided.

     Many of us Unitarian Universalists like to think that we can take care of ourselves, and that we don’t need any outside help.  Or we may feel guilty about imposing on the time of others.  But there’s another way of thinking about it.  It may be your turn to accept a helping hand now; but next month, or next year, you may get your chance to reciprocate and help someone else out.  Also, by not opening yourself up to the assistance of others, you may be depriving them of the chance to fulfill their desire and need to be helpful.

     Of course those of us in a position to offer help must be sensitive enough to do so only when it’s wanted and needed:  Two Cub Scouts, whose younger brother had fallen into the lake, rushed home to their mother with tears in their eyes.  One of them sobbed, “We try to give him artificial respiration, but he keeps getting up and walking away.”  So let’s not force ourselves on one another.

     The third important component of a good caring system is adequate record-keeping.  By keeping track of who’s doing what for whom, we can be more effective by identifying gaps that need filling, or by cutting down on duplication of effort.  You don’t need to be a member of any committee in order to help out with someone in need.  But if you’ll let us know about your efforts, that will be tremendously helpful to us as we try to assess what further help might be appropriate.

     You’ll be hearing more in the next couple of months about how you can help make the system work well.  And I hope to see many of you Wednesday as we begin to give it shape.

     For those of you wondering how you might be able to help, there are a number of specific ways.  You might send flowers or a card.  You might provide meals or transportation.  Or you might make a call or a visit to someone confined to home or hospital.

     Sometimes what’s needed most is simply a listening ear.  Once, a little girl was sent on an errand by her mother.  She took much to long in getting back.  When she finally did return, Mother demanded an explanation.  The little girl explained that on her way she had met a little friend who was crying because she had broken her doll.  “Oh,” said her mother, “so you stopped to help her fix her doll?”  “Oh, no,” replied the little girl, “I stopped to help her cry.”

     Part of our strength as a community is our ability, and our willingness, to help each other cry in times of sorrow and grief, or to laugh and celebrate in times of joy and triumph.  May we always be there to share with one another in love and understanding and compassion.

     So be it.