To the Edge
Sunday, November 7, 2021
Tri-County Unitarian Universalist · Summerfield, Florida
Rev. Cynthia A. Snavely
Reading: “The Edge Is Where I Want to Be” — Lisa Martinovic
The Edge Is Where I Want to Be | Slaminatrix
Different Edges, Same Courage
I was on an outing with some of you a few weekends ago when someone mentioned that a new skydiving school was opening nearby. I responded that my sister has airborne training—but the only way I would jump out of an airplane is if it were on fire.
Later on that same outing, someone mentioned that a closed limestone quarry had been repurposed as a scuba-diving venue. Again, I said my sister scuba dives, but that is not for me. I can barely doggie paddle.
Obviously, my sister has crossed edges I have chosen not to cross.
But—when my theology changed and United Methodist ministry no longer fit, I did not give up a calling I loved. I stepped over an edge and became a Unitarian Universalist minister.
When I turned forty, was unmarried, and deeply wanted a child in my life, I stepped over another edge and became the parent of a twelve-year-old.
My sister’s edges and mine are different.
But we have both stepped over some.
A Dare from the Poem
Lisa Martinovic ends her poem with a cascade of invitations:
“quit your job
quit smoking
quit whining
leave that jerk
write that poem
go dancing
get sober
take a road trip”
A dare.
A spin.
A lover.
A chance.
“honey, break down and cry if that’s what it takes
then pick your ass up and for all you’re worth
run, don’t walk, to the edge.”
Not every line applies to all of us.
But likely one or two apply to each of us.
Choosing the Edge on Purpose
My sister had to be determined to join the Army. With a December birthday, she was just seventeen when she graduated high school and needed to be eighteen to train in Military Intelligence. She also had to lose weight to meet requirements.
She worked short-term jobs. She took up running.
She wanted that edge.
Now my nephew dreams of joining the Navy, working on nuclear submarines. He was born deaf in one ear—but he did not give up. Today he is a sophomore at The Citadel and has received a Navy contract. The rest of college is paid for, and then the Navy will have him.
Different edges.
Deep commitment.
The Edge of Refusal
When I asked you for pictures and blurbs for today’s veterans’ salute, one of you reminded me of another form of service: conscientious objection.
Some people choose not to serve in the military—on purpose, and at great cost.
Their edge is different.
A Dangerous Edge at Byberry
In 2009, journalist Joseph Shapiro reported for All Things Considered about World War II conscientious objectors.
In September 1942, Warren Sawyer, a twenty-three-year-old Quaker pacifist, reported for volunteer service at a state mental hospital—Philadelphia State Hospital, known as Byberry.
“Byberry’s the last stop on the bus,” Sawyer recalled.
“People would mutter ‘yellowbellies’ and ‘slackers,’ hoping we’d hear.”
Inside the gates, conditions were far worse.
The pacifists were horrified—not only by neglect, but by brutality.
They worried that kindness alone was not enough. When the war ended, they would leave—but the suffering would remain.
So they stepped over another edge.
“We are working on a carefully laid-out plan to blow this place open,” Sawyer wrote.
In secret, they gathered evidence and went to the newspapers.
Shapiro later reported:
“Conscientious objectors from Byberry helped professionalize state hospital care and dramatically improve the lives of vulnerable people.”
Their edge was not combat.
It was exposure, risk, and truth.
Why We Avoid the Edge
Sometimes it takes effort just to screw up the courage to approach it.
Martinovic begins her poem this way:
“so you just want to take the edge off
one beer
one joint
one teeny-weeny Prozac”
She asks:
“get rid of the edge?”
And answers:
“the edge holds the answer to your questions
the question to your answers
it’s the trailhead to the road not taken
the edge is everywhere you’ve never dared to be.”
Ice cream. A drink. A distraction.
They may dull the edge—but they may also keep us from crossing it.
A Missed Edge (and Some Cookies)
In the United Methodist Church, ordination happens in stages: first deacon, then elder.
When I went before the board examining me for deacon’s orders, one man grilled me on infant baptism. I knew the answer he wanted—but my own tradition allowed families to choose.
I would not give him his answer.
He asked again.
And again.
I failed.
When I returned to my seminary dorm, my Girl Scout cookies had arrived. I ate three-quarters of the box in one sitting.
All I got was a sugar headache and a stomachache.
Cookies did not move me closer to the edge I needed.
What did?
Another year of growth.
Determination.
And remembering this was not the end.
What the Edge Feels Like
Martinovic writes:
“there are no disguises here on the edge
everyone is naked
all bets are off”
“your heart’s pounding
you’re shaking
you’re lightheaded and queasy”
“damn right it’s uncomfortable
the edge is change
it’s what you don’t see coming”
Living at the edge is not easy.
It is terrifying.
But ask yourself:
What kind of life do you want?
No risk?
No challenge?
No triumph?
Don’t Take the Edge Off
Don’t numb it.
Don’t dull it.
Step up to it.
Step over it.
And fly.
A Prayer for Courage
Let us pray with words by Jean Olson:
May you be brave enough to expose your aching woundedness
and reveal your vulnerability.
May you speak your deepest truths,
knowing they will change as you do.
May you sing the music within you,
playing your song with all your heart.
May you love, even when your heart breaks again and again.
And until the end of your days,
may your life be filled with possibilities and courage.
Amen.