Hope Grows Here: For Anyone Tired of Going It Alone

Rev. Xolani Kacela, Ph.D.

Jun 02, 2025

Sermon delivered to First UU of San Antonio Congregation
on Sunday, June 1st, 2025

I want to begin this morning by saying something that might surprise you, especially if this is your first time in a Unitarian Universalist congregation: You belong here. Right now, exactly as you are. Whether you grew up as a UU, you’re someone exploring spirituality for the first time, or someone who's been hurt by organized religion and isn't sure if you ever want to try again—you belong here.

In a world that specializes in telling us we don't belong—that we're too young or too old, too liberal or too conservative, too religious or not religious enough—we gather as a community built on a radical idea: inclusivity isn't just a nice concept or a feel-good slogan. It's a spiritual practice that can literally save lives and transform the world.

And in these times—when political divisions feel like chasms, when economic uncertainty keeps you awake at night, when climate anxiety mingles with social media overwhelm, when the future feels more like a threat than a promise—we need that kind of transformative practice more than ever.

The Courage to Include.

Let me tell you what inclusiveness means in practice, especially for those of you who are newer to UU communities. It doesn't mean we're wishy-washy or that we believe anything goes. It doesn't mean we avoid di icult conversations or pretend all perspectives are equally valid. True inclusiveness requires tremendous courage—the courage to create spaces where people can bring their whole selves, their real questions, their deepest fears and highest hopes.

Rev. Rebecca Parker taught us that inclusion is not the same as assimilation. We're not asking you to become someone else to fit in here. We're asking you to become more fully yourself, in community with others who are doing the same brave work of becoming. This is what makes us di erent from communities that demand conformity. This is what makes us a refuge for people who've been told they don't belong anywhere else.

Michelle Obama said, "We are all in this together, and we all belong."

The writers Martin Rivers and Bob Goodson a irm Obama’s instincts by pointing out that humans have evolved to prefer being around others who we recognize as similar to ourselves. It’s a learned behavior called homophily.

Here, it is safe to identify yourself however you identify and challenge us to accept you. We will surprise you and say, “Welcome, pilgrim!”

For those of you visiting today, maybe you've been church-shopping, trying to find a spiritual home that doesn't require you to check your brain at the door or your identity in the parking lot. Maybe you've been burned by religious communities that claimed to love you while trying to change everything about who you are. Maybe you've given up on organized religion entirely but find yourself longing for something deeper than Netflix and brunch.

Here's what I want you to know: your questions are welcome here. Your doubts are sacred here. Your anger at injustice is holy here. Your love—however you experience it, whoever you direct it toward—is celebrated here.

There’s a line about UU churches. It says we don’t only answer your questions, we question your answers!

Resilience Through Connection

Forrest Church reminded us that we don't get to choose whether we experience su ering in this life—we only get to choose whether we suffer alone or in community. And right now, too many of us are suffering alone. Scrolling through feeds that amplify our worst fears, living in echo chambers that confirm our biases, feeling overwhelmed by problems too big for any individual to solve.

Someone here is having a bad day or a terrible week. I’m not here to mute your reality, but am here to assure you that you are not alone. Keep your head up.

But here's what we've learned over decades of building inclusive communities: resilience isn't something you build in isolation. It's something you cultivate in relationship. When you're part of a community that truly sees you, that celebrates your gifts and supports you through your struggles, you become capable of things you never imagined possible.

This is especially crucial for Gen Z visitors who might be here today. You've grown up in a world that's simultaneously more connected and more isolated than any generation before you. You've seen more injustice, experienced more anxiety, and inherited more global crises than seems fair for anyone to carry. And yet—and this is why I believe the future is in good hands—you've also shown more compassion, creativity, and commitment to justice than any generation we've witnessed.

You don't need us to save you. But we need each other to save the world. And that work starts with the radical practice of inclusiveness—the decision to build communities where everyone belongs, where everyone's voice matters, where everyone's liberation is connected.

In the current political climate, which is morphing into every sphere of life, we need to claim out loud that we belong, that the world is ours, too. He’s even telling the MLB 2 Commissioner how to run the league and got Pete Rose reinstated. And told the NFL Commissioner to keep the tush push. They did. Threatened congresspersons who didn’t back the Big Beautiful Bill. They did it.

What are we for in the post Biden-Harris-Obama era?

You’ll find out here.

What Inclusiveness Looks Like in Practice

Let me get specific about what you'll find if you decide to join us. You'll find a community where your pronouns are respected and your relationships are celebrated, regardless of who you love. You'll find people who take climate change seriously and are working together on solutions. You'll find conversations about racial justice that go beyond thoughts and prayers to actual action and accountability.

You'll also find people who disagree with each other—sometimes passionately—about politics, theology, and how to create positive change. But you'll find that we've learned how to disagree without demonizing, how to challenge ideas without attacking people, how to hold tension without choosing sides.

This isn't always easy. Inclusive communities require emotional labor. They require humility. They require the willingness to be wrong, to learn, to grow. They require showing up even when it's inconvenient, contributing even when money's tight, speaking up even when your voice shakes.

But here's what you get in return: you get to be part of something bigger than your individual anxieties. You get to channel your outrage into organized action. You get to transform your despair into determined hope. You get to discover that the antidote to overwhelm isn't disconnection—it's deeper connection with people who share your values and your commitment to making the world more just and loving.

Michelle Obama talked about how she planned her arrival at the White House and how she defined her role as First Lady. She didn’t leave her resilience and sense of who she was and would be to chance. She wrote in her book Becoming:

I didn’t want to go about any of it casually. I intended to arrive at the White House with a carefully thought-out strategy and a strong team backing me. If I’d learned anything…it was that public judgment sweeps in to fill any void. If you don’t get out there and define yourself, you’ll be quickly and inaccurately defined by others.

This community swings wide the door of self-definition. You tell us who you are and we respect you. We don’t tell you who you are. In fact, share any identity you feel safe sharing, and we accommodate you. And with that identity, we’ll put you to work in spiritual service.

Hope as a Community Practice

You might be listening and wondering: what do Unitarian Universalists actually believe? Here's the thing—we don't have a creed that everyone must a irm. We have shared values and love sits at the center. We believe in justice, equity, and transformation changing hearts and minds, and the goal of world community with pluralism, inclusivity and generosity. We are committed to the inherent worth and dignity of every person.

Most importantly, we believe that hope is not a feeling—it's a practice. It's something we do together, daily, in small acts and large ones. Every time we welcome a newcomer, we practice hope. It happens when we have a di icult conversation across di erences and when we show up for justice work even when we're tired.

And this hope isn't naive or passive. It's what Parker called "fierce hope"—hope that looks directly at the world's suffering and says, "Not on my watch. Not if I can help it. Not if we can do something about it together."

Undergirding this work is one critical factor: courage. In order to take on resilience and be hopeful, you must be brave.

Don’t Be Afraid.

You must be fierce.

Your Invitation Starts Now

So here's my invitation, especially to those of you who are visiting, curious, and possibly feeling a stirring of possibility in your chest right now: don't wait. Don't spend weeks or months trying to figure out if you're "ready" for spiritual community. You're ready now. You're ready exactly as you are.

The climate crisis won't wait for you to feel fully prepared to act. The loneliness epidemic won't pause while you decide if you need community. The forces that profit from division and despair won't slow down while you figure out if you belong somewhere.

But hope? Hope grows here, in communities like this one, through practices like inclusiveness, among people who refuse to give up on the possibility that things can be different. Hope grows when you show up, when you contribute your voice, when you let yourself be known and supported and challenged.

If you're here because you're looking for spiritual community, you've found it. Maybe you want to be part of social change. Welcome home. If you're here because you're tired of feeling alone with your questions and your fears, trust me, you never have to feel alone again.

Welcome home.

Before I let you go, consider this. The future we're all walking into together will be shaped by the communities we build today. It will be shaped by how inclusive we choose to be, how resilient we help each other become, how much hope we're willing to nurture together.

The world needs what you bring—your passion, questions, unique perspective, and particular gifts. But it needs those things in community, amplified by connection, sustained by relationship, focused by shared purpose.

After the service today, we will be ready to welcome you, to answer your questions, to help you find your place in this community. I’ll stay down front and ask Tim and Polly, and any others who want to share to join me. If y’all have other obligations, I got this.

There are opportunities to get involved, ways to contribute, chances to discover that belonging here isn't something you have to earn—it's something you can claim, right now, today.

Hope grows here. Resilience flourishes here. Justice work happens here. Love multiplies here. And you—exactly as you are, with everything you bring—you belong here.