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You and I and all of us blew about with the winds of summer... Most every year Bonnie and I go to the UU General Assembly. It is strange and interesting and good to get together with some 3 or 4 thousand UUs all in one city at a time. This last June, it was in Fort Worth, Texas.

It is something to see the Service of the Living Tradition, where ministers wear robes like these. Certain ministers process in, singing Rank by Rank, just like we did this morning. These are the newly minted ministers, fresh from seminary and internships, or they are ministers retiring after many years of faithful service.

Then, there comes a time, where we all stand quietly together while the president reads aloud the names of those who died in the last year. I always listen carefully to that list. I nod to myself when the name of someone I know is spoken. And I know– that one day– my own name will be read aloud on a similar occasion.

The city for the General Assembly changes every year. Next year, some 3 to 4 thousand Unitarian Universalists will descend on St Louis for the annual convention. It will be quite a time.

I know some of you had busy summers, some lazy summers. In our church community, there has been all the varieties of human experience– arrival of children, marriage, near-death, and Death itself.

It is good to be together. It is a wonder to be alive. It is a turning point in the year.

I spent quite a bit of time on the Lazy River this summer. The one at Kirkwood pool. At the beginning of the summer, I'd hear one teenage girl lifeguard call out to another– got a boyfriend yet? Not yet– was the reply.

In the Lazy River, I'd try to position myself so I could just let the river carry me along, close my eyes, try to figure out where I was by the way the sunshine hit my face or the sounds of water spray or kids laughing. It was always warm & sunny and full of life. It was easy to let the sun bake out any worries niggling at my brain.

When I was last in this pulpit two weeks ago, a big storm named Katrina was about to hit the Gulf of Mexico. 24 hours before the storm came ashore, the National Weather Service thought New Orleans in particular might be more or less made uninhabitable for a couple of weeks.

One report said most of the residents got out in time. But of course, that meant a lot didn't. Some did not survive the deluge. But many more died after the hurricane was over. Not all of their names will be said aloud by women and men in robes.

While I was getting ready for the joys of the Lazy River, a 22 year old girl named Alicia Houston made it back to St Louis. She'd been a front desk attendant at the Park Plaza Hotel in New Orleans. She'd volunteered to stay behind to help keep other hotel guests.

But then there were fights, two guests were raped, food and water became scarce. They'd been told help was on the way, but it hadn't come.

Alicia Houston and a couple other people "decided they’d rather walk 76 miles to Baton Rouge then stay at the hotel on Canal Street." The going got hard. Alicia, who is short, trudged through water up to her neck, and eventually left behind her backpack and shoes to make it easier to wade through the polluted water.

Being careful to avoid where thieves might be, and after a while, they made it to dry land. A stranger in a pickup truck took her to some of his relatives and those folks took her to the airport, and a day later she was back home in St Louis.

No Lazy River for Alicia Houston, no life guard chatting idly, no summer sun burning away life's niggling worries. But the kindness of strangers may have saved her life.

But it was good she got out. There was much worse going on down there.

Charles Womack, a 30-year-old roofer, said he saw one man beaten to death and another commit suicide at the Superdome. Womack [himself] was beaten with a pipe and being treated at the airport triage center.

"One guy jumped off a balcony. I saw him do it. He was talking to a lady about it. He said it reminded him of the war and he couldn't [stand it]," he said.

In the city, everywhere was death, bodies in the streets.

...a woman lay dead in a wheelchair on the front steps. A man was covered in a black drape with a dry line of blood ran to the gutter, where it had pooled.

A once-vibrant city of 480,000 people, overtaken ... by floods, looting, rape and arson, was now an empty, sodden tomb. The overwhelming majority of those stranded in the post-Katrina chaos were those without the resources to escape - and, overwhelmingly, they were black. New Orleans left to the dead and dying By ALLEN G. BREED Associated Press Writer, Sep 3, 5:48 PM EDT, Post Dispatch web site.

Of course, New Orleans wasn't the only place hit. The town of Waveland, Mississippi was wiped off the map. Town wiped off the map by Katrina. Thursday, September 1, 2005; Posted: 10:42 a.m. EDT (14:42 GMT) on cnn.com

"Total devastation. There's nothing left," said Brian Mollere, a resident who was left cut and bruised. Katrina tore his clothes off and he had to dig in the debris [just to find some] shorts and a T-shirt.

Former first Lady, Barbara Bush said:

"What I'm hearing, which is sort of scary, is [the evacuees ] all want to stay in Texas," "Everyone is so overwhelmed by the hospitality. And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway," she said, "so this is working very well for them."

Sounds a bit callous to me.

And what about all the children? Tomorrow morning, a couple hours after the sun rises, my children and your children will get ready to go to school, to walk or take busses, or get dropped off.

So too, in Texas, 6,000 children of the storm will be going off to a new school, with new teachers, and new classmates.

The Houston school district is reopening two elementary schools and is hiring hundreds of teachers. Some from Louisiana, others more local.

But there will undoubtedly be Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. As a guidance counselor put it:

"They've been displaced from their homes, living in shelters; they have to adjust to that, They are going to a school where they don't know anyone.

In many cases they waded through deep water and saw dead bodies and lost their homes and everything they had. It's going to cause all kinds of emotional responses."School Routine Provides Welcome Change From Chaos By JOHN M. BRODER, New York Times, 9/6/05.

The way I see it, there have been three waves to come upon the Gulf Coast. The first wave of the hurricane caused devastation over 90,000 square miles. The second wave has been of looting, despair, murder, and death.

While it is true that the folks who got in long lines at gun shops in Baton Rouge to prepare for the arrival of evacuees may feel as Barbara Bush does, many more Americans feel quite differently. The third wave is the wave of generosity, of volunteers, of donations of goods, services, and especially– money.

The NYSE gave $1m to the Red Cross a couple days ago.

Actor George Clooney gave $1m to the United Way.

Keysor Elementary school in Kirkwood raised over $1,000 and 9,000 pounds of goods

Lemonade stands & car washes for Katrina victims

A story Friday in the New York Times said churches across the country have mobilized in response to Hurricane Katrina, offering shelter, conducting clothing drives and serving hot meals to evacuees.

Churches in the Gulf coast were the first places a lot of people turned to.

The Rev. Bland Washington, pastor of Allen Chapel A.M.E. in Baton Rouge, was moved to help after seeing an appeal on television.

Soon evacuees were streaming in, forcing him to scramble to find places to house them. He put about 40 in the church's sanctuary; the ushers' room got 10; the library squeezed in 8; the choir area housed about a dozen. Finally, he cleared out the second floor dining area of tables for mattresses and cots.

"All we wanted to do was try to help in any way we can," he said. "We're doing it from the fact that God wants us to do this." A New Meaning for 'Organized Religion': It Helps the Needy Quickly. MICHAEL LUO and CAMPBELL ROBERTSON, September 9, 2005 New York Times.

It's reported that the Southern Baptists have served more than a million meals, with 5,000 volunteers. By contrast, there are less than 2,000 Unitarians in the whole state of Missouri, less than 800 in Louisiana; less than 200 in Mississippi.

What are we to do? As a church community? We took last week's and this week's offering for the hurricane victims. As of Friday, the UUA Gulf Coast Relief Fund has received $520,656. We will make our financial contribution as a church.

One Eliot member went down in a van with 9 other people to volunteer at a soup kitchen in Baton Rouge for a few days or a week. The UU churches down there are pitching in. Everybody seems to be getting in the act

What are we to do? There is someone in this room, that has or is on the verge of having a good idea that will galvanize the rest of us.

I don’t know who it is, but I believe there is someone in this room who will go to or has visited the FEMA web site or seen something in the media, that has got their attention.

And not only that! Because, frankly, while good ideas take some work– there is something much bigger to over come. Someone within the sound of my voice is willing to respond to the call for leadership.

All that we are waiting for, is for someone to make a public commitment. All we are waiting for is for someone to respond to the call, someone to come to me and the leadership and say– I have an idea, and I'm willing to make it happen.

And then! the ministers and lay leaders will do what we can to help create a new reality.

Why would we do this? Eliot Chapel, a Unitarian Universalist Community, gathers to foster free religious thought, nurture spiritual growth,  and act for social justice. Yeah, that last one.

There are movies, like Close Encounters of the Third Kind, where people are mysteriously drawn to a place. They are drawn because they want to witness something, and because they want to help birth a new reality.

Something like this is happening all over this country. In the St Louis area alone, “tens of thousands of people have made donations [and over half are] offering their time.”The need to help can be overwhelming, Clay Barbour, St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Friday, Sep. 09 2005.

It’s reported that there is actually more of a supply of volunteers than a demand in St Louis.

But still, people feel compelled to take action. Why? Because we want to make a difference! We’d rather be a part of history than be rolled over by it. This is a basic human need that we occasionally try to overlook or repress.

Sometimes the only way to relieve the stress of a disaster is to stand up and DO something. Because by helping others, we help ourselves. This isn’t something to be ashamed of; this is something to act upon.

Historically, Unitarians have taken the long view. We can nod in agreement when the local Red Cross says "This isn't a two-day disaster. These people will need our help for quite some time."

Ah, but what to do? Maybe we should just wait and see. Or. Maybe we should make a commitment– a commitment to act for social justice.

In a 1951 book called The Scottish Himalaya Expedition, the author talks about the difficulty of commitment to a big idea.

"Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back. But the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too.

All sorts of things [come about] to help that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way.

Then, quoting the German poet Goethe,

Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now."

Someone here today at Eliot Chapel will come up with a plan for how we as a congregation– in our own way– can respond well to the crisis. Maybe the plan won't be for tomorrow or even next week or month.

But your spiritual homework this week is to talk to one another at coffee hour– today– or on the phone, by email, in person, over lunch, and find one among us who will lead this effort. And once a project has been found– by whoever it is– let us all consider supporting it the ways that we are able.

Maybe a few of you will get together right here in the sanctuary after the service, or in a corner of Adams’ Hall, and you will suggest we adopt a family or families right here at Eliot Chapel. After all, we already house the homeless 3 times a month.

Or you will come up with another idea and you and others will provide leadership, and then the ministers and lay leaders will help, and off we will go on a roller coaster of hope and courage. But we will be acting for social justice! We will be living out our mission.

Some of you are undoubtedly thinking that I am making an unreasonable request. Well, you may be right. In the days and weeks ahead, it would be easier to shake our heads in dismay, to shed a few tears, and to turn our attentions away from the suffering.

But I may as well tell you now– In the year ahead, a lot will be asked of you. There will be prayers you can’t possibly pray; songs you can’t possibly sing; thoughts reasonable people would not think; and perhaps dreams that may make you toss and turn.

This is the nature of religious community: that we provide a place to comfort and console one another– a safe harbor if you will– and that we urge one another onward and outward from the harbor into the great open seas to live the spiritual adventure of our lives.

The Lazy River is good for a respite, but summer comes to an end. New challenges await. And while we know that a ship secured in the harbor will keep safe, we also know that is not what ships are for.

It is good to be here together. We are old-timer, we are new-comer, we are stranger, we are lost, we are found, we are hungry, we are fed. We are gay, we are straight. We are Christian, Jewish, Humanist, Pagan, and so much more. It is good to be here together.

Wake Now My Senses, #298 (verses 1, 4, 5)