THERE AND BACK AGAIN: Living Unitarian Universalism in Dangerous Times

THERE AND BACK AGAIN Living Unitarian Universalism in Dangerous Times

James Ishmael Ford

15 June 2008
First Unitarian Society
West Newton, Massachusetts

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Come, come, whoever you are. Wonderer, worshipper, lover of leaving. It doesn’t matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. Come, even if you have broken your vow a thousand times Come, yet again, come, come.
Jalaladdin Rumi

It’s hard to believe, but after eight years serving among you, this is my last Sunday in this amazing pulpit in this magnificent sanctuary, in this building that I’ve come to think of as our glorious monstrosity. I feel a great mixture of many things, excitement and regret, longing and love. I have new adventures facing me, as do you. And soon our attention, yours and mine, must shift to those new things. But, this is a moment to pause, to savor what has been, and, okay, perhaps, out of that, just a little, to consider the future.

I hope you’ll indulge my sharing a few of my memories, almost randomly. It started for me about ten years ago. There were two or three colleagues who knew I was interested in possibly eventually serving a church in New England who followed the comings and goings of our Eastern churches. Each separately checked in with me saying, you know, if you’re ready to consider a new pulpit, the Newton, Massachusetts congregation might be a real good fit.

I did a little looking into it and thought, yes; this might be a very interesting run. I told Jan how exciting this might be. After she said a few unkind words, she added, “Well, who knows, perhaps I could end up at Perkins.” She’d been involved in accessibility issues in libraries from early in her career and if you don’t know Perkins School for the Blind in Watertown is a center of that universe. When Mrs. Keller was at her wits end, she contacted Perkins, who sent her Annie Sullivan. It also didn’t hurt that there were several threads of connection between Perkins and FUSN. So, Jan and I, each following the mysterious currents of our individual karma found ourselves beginning to dream eastern dreams.

Memories. It was pre-candidating weekend. At some point in the process with the ministerial search committee I realized I was no longer being interviewed, but rather being sold. A lovely feeling. I don’t remember who said, “You know, James. Most congregations have an all-church retreat. We have two.” To which I responded, “I don’t camp.” There was a pause, then, Noreen Kimball, I do remember the who of this, said, “That’s terrible, James. Because, our next minister does.”

Over the next eight years I would participate in our all-church retreat at Sandy Island seven times and at Ferry Beach the same. If you’ve kept that on your fingers you know I missed only one of each of those retreats.

Among my small pleasures in the run up to our all-church retreats over these years has been complaining bitterly about having to rough it. As all I think may well know, I consider anything that doesn’t involve room service, roughing it. So, you may be surprised, I was, when meeting with the search committee for the Providence congregation, noting they don’t have an all-church retreat saying, and I heard it come out of my mouth with my own ears, “You have to have an all church retreat. They’re essential. We need these retreats to really get to know each other.”

Memories. Candidating week is now a blur for me. Only one incident really pokes out from that largely undifferentiated cloud. I was sitting in the Alliance room drinking tea out of a red rose china cup. I was sitting with several elderly members of the congregation. One of them took a sip of tea, looked at me and asked, “You know Barney Frank is our congressman?” I took a sip of my tea, not sure where this would be going. “Yes, ma’am,” I responded. A moment of silence. Her companion, maybe a couple of years older, said, “Barney’s a little conservative for us.” My people, I thought…

Memories. The rhythms of our lives took on a shape following the seasons. These too, I enjoyed, very much, complaining about. I mean four seasons! Anything beyond two is an unnecessary extravagance. But, I also noticed how Jan took to them like a duck to water. Probably some sort of past life thing. Still, I felt myself falling into the rhythms.

Memories. I came to know and respect and feel deeply for the staff. I continue to wonder at the success of the religious education program under Anne’s watchful eye and with the grace and skill that Wendy brings to the task, as well as Matt and Dana with the youth. I’ll always remember the music. It was such an honor to work with Roberta and Joe and over time Amy and Cindy and Jennie. And now Anne. My goodness she’s a genius! Noreen set a tone for the new and, admittedly, precarious position of membership coordinator, that will be hard to follow. Although it was also a pleasure to get to know Linda in her brief time in that position.

Early on we had a staff retreat with a facilitator. She ran the Meyer’s Briggs test, which I admit I consider only a tad more accurate than sun signs. But, it is always interesting, and provides opportunities for reflection. In this case, after scoring the tests she walked around and stood behind Fran resting her hands on Fran’s shoulders. She said, “Behold this woman. Without her this office would collapse. And maybe the church.” I have no doubt that’s true. In these precarious times, you might consider giving her a raise.

We’ve had able leadership on our eight Boards of Trustees during my tenure here; I’ve appreciated each one in its different configurations. And mostly it’s been a pleasure to meet with them, even when the meetings ran on a tad longer than I thought necessary.

Memories. One of the signal honors in my tenure here has been sharing with the congregation in the preparation of our next generation of ministers. I recall Suzanne with fondness. And I remain in awe of Chris. From our first weeks together never had a doubt but that he would be a significant figure within our denomination. I can’t describe my feelings when it turned out his first pulpit would be in succession to the minister who was my primary mentor, and to the congregation from which I went to seminary. I didn’t think it would be possible to have another experience quite so good; until, of course, Catherine came among us.

While things can always be better, I feel pretty good about how we gave attention to both looking in and reaching out. I very much wanted spiritual practices to become a central part of our life here. I was happy that we were able to establish both Zen and Insight meditation groups. I was sorry that our attempts at establishing a Tibetan style group and a Sufi dance group didn’t jell. On the other hand I continue to be proud of the establishment and constant deepening of what I think of as our homegrown spiritual practice, the Small Group Ministry program. I also consider the deepening of an adult education focus an essential element in our sustained spiritual journey.

And, at the same time, I’ve always been impressed how we feel a deep need to reach out to the world. We have a solid Social Justice program. I’m pleased how we deepened the second collections and the generosity with which that program has been met by all of you. While the formal structure of Welcoming Congregations, our conscious outreach to LGBT, Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender families hasn’t been particularly successful in my time here, the real proof of our pudding is how smoothly we’ve integrated a substantial presence of LGBT folk into the heart of our community and how many have become our leaders. Perhaps the jewel in the crown of our social justice work, of course, has been our involvement in Communities Without Borders.

Memories. These are impressions, just a bit of the feeling for who and what we are here. There has been so much more, of course. Such as our astonishing Lay Ministry program, and our Coming of Age program both of which are becoming templates for other congregations in our denomination.

Memories. Memories.

Of course the single most devastating thing that happened during my time here was the attack on America that has come to be known as 9/11. As we all know it has become one of those events like the assassination of John F. Kennedy, where pretty much everyone who was alive at the time can recall exactly where they were and what they were doing at the time they heard. It’s hard to believe it’s only been seven years. Our whole world has changed so much.

Which brings us to vision, to who we are and what we might be. Vision. As I’ve rummaged around the web reading various blogs, I’ve run across any number, which speak of Unitarian Universalists. I’ve learned how some consider us dangerous. I’ve also learned how people out there admire us. Certainly we’re studied and analyzed. Out of this I’ve had to re-evaluate my understanding of our anti-creedalism, our communal assertions about freedom of thought and belief. It turns out both those who dislike us and those who admire us, can say with considerable clarity just who we are. We may have trouble saying it, but outsiders don’t.

We are a family of faith. Our tradition has a deep taproot in rationality. We cherish clear thinking to a degree other religious traditions only approach. We find the mind a gateway to wisdom. But that’s not the end of it. Just as old is our sense of oneness with nature. That lovely image of the interdependent web is perhaps the most important gift we give to contemporary spirituality. We preach that all are connected, how all of life is one web of relationships. And people find this a message of hope.

Out of that there’s a challenge. We, you, have created a wonderful community here in Newton. It has problems, sure. You’re going to have to have some serious conversations about financial resources. It will probably include some belt-tightening and reordering of priorities. I hope it will also include a re-evaluation of how you see your individual financial support. I suspect you may decide to tweak your governance, as well.

But, even deeper, is to consider how you want to stand it the world. Already you have a community that supports its own. And I think that is the first task. And you understand how important it is to do some good in the world. And that is the second task.

But that’s not the end of it. At least I don’t think it should be. The next question, the great question for our liberal faith at the dawn of the twenty-first century, the one that must be asked here and, truthfully within each of our congregations across the continent is: Is it time to broadcast this faith that has sustained us, to the world? Are we ready to seriously reach out and share our healing message?

There is so much hurt out there. And, I feel, we hold in our hands keys to much of what it will take to heal that hurt. Our rational spirituality and our deep intuition, our bone and marrow knowing of our oneness each with the other and all with the world, contain the secrets of healing for individuals and for the world itself. It is an astonishing insight.

When the Buddha had his great insight into the oneness of the world and the mechanisms of the human mind, his last temptation, what the devil of Buddhist legend whispered into his ear, was “you have seen into the heart of the matter. You have found freedom for yourself. Why don’t you now retire from the world and enjoy.”

We face that same question. We, too, are hearing that whisper. But, I say this: We have a healing balm in our possession. It is time to share it with the world. It is time to begin the healing.

Of course, the decision, any decision, is in you hands. I trust you will do the right thing. It is now time for me to relinquish this pulpit back to you until you find your next minister. But, I want to end saying how much I trust you will do the right thing.

Thank you for letting me be part of your journey for these past eight years. I’m so grateful. I love you. I know you will be a beacon of hope and love and possibility for generations to come. I do.

Amen.