Tuesday, August 13, 2019

What Do We Need in Our Backpack for the Journey by Rev. Tom Capo preached on August 11, 2019

When I was in my senior year of high school, 7 of my friends and I decided to go on a backpacking trip to Big Bend National Park in the very western part of Texas.  We bought backpacks, sleeping bags, flashlights, food, all the essentials for the trip.  We conditioned ourselves for the trip by running up and down football stadium bleachers. 
Few of us had ever been on a backpacking trip before, though some of us had not even been on a day hike, but we figured running up and down the bleachers would probably get us ready.  After all, that’s what the coaches made the football team do and they were in pretty good shape.  Little did we know what we would face backpacking 50 miles across a mountainous and desert terrain.  We traveled in two cars.  Our first hint that things may not go as planned occurred less than 5 miles from the park entrance.  One of our cars came to a dead stop.  When we opened the hood, the engine was glowing red, apparently so overheated that the engine block was melting. 
We all piled into the other car a pinto.  Some you might not know what a pinto was, Think mini-cooper without as much room.  We strapped our 8 backpacks on top and crammed in. 
                   During our trip we dealt with one person’s boot coming completely apart in the desert—did you duct tape can sort of repair a hiking boot-, one stove exploding, getting lost when we decided to go off the trail down a cliff (I was not in favor of this digression).  We panicked when we got lost at one point, and we enjoyed a hail storm that lasted from one afternoon to the next morning, destroying one of our tents and flooding another.  One of my friends had decided to pack canned goods in his backpack.  None of us volunteered to share his ridiculous load.  Though I must say we were all jealous when he ate those Del Monte Yellow Cling Peach Slices in 100% Real Fruit Juice,
while the rest of us at freeze dried meals.  We completed 30 miles and then decided to that perhaps we were better prepared for some day hikes.  Well, we didn’t make the goal, but—wow—what a journey!  What memories!  What fun we had!  What learning and personal growth we experienced.  And what stories we share about that backpacking trip to this day, though it was some 40 years ago.
            Being a Unitarian Universalist and a member of a UU faith community has a lot in common with a backpacking trip. 
You need make preparations and you need to be aware of the conditions you might face and get in shape for them.  You need the essentials to nourish your body, mind, and spirit.  You need to be ready for the unexpected, but not so over-prepared that you are weighed down that reaching your goals is more difficult.  And it is so much better to travel together, sharing experiences and splitting up the work necessary to complete the task.  All growing together, having fun together, and making meaning together. I hope you share with me some of your stories from your many journeys and share with me the stories of this congregation.  Your learning from those stories can serve as trail markers as we journey together down this new path.
I mentioned earlier that the Developmental tools you’ve identified as a congregation are in your order of service.  One of those goals is to help the congregation to align itself with the UUA goals to address systemic racism.  With that in mind, let’s take a fork in the trail that may help us make some progress.  This summer was our denomination’s General Assembly or GA and the theme of GA was “The Power of We”.  Here’s part of a sermon given by Reverend Marta I. Valentín at the Sunday morning worship at GA.
From Rev. Valentin’s sermon: “When our theme, ‘The Power of We’ was revealed, many from the historically marginalized communities immediately asked: Who is the ‘we’? It felt like the assumption was it is all of us Unitarian Universalists. But, is it, when many of us from the Black, Indigenous and People of Color communities experience a kind of Unitarian Universalism that is neither what we are told it is, nor how we know it could be? Is it, when our Trans family is repeatedly muted? Is it, when our people living with seen and unseen disabilities, are made invisible anyway? Is it, when Christian UUs and Military Chaplains feel like they have to be in the closet? Is it when our youth have to fight to be taken seriously, and our young adults to have space of their own?”
            Our denomination is in the complex and protracted process of discerning what it means to be “we”, to be Unitarian Universalists.   We’re in the midst of a transition for Unitarian Universalism, working together to develop a new more inclusive narrative that acknowledges where many of us have fallen short of our professed Principles and values, both as individuals and institutionally.  Transitions are taxing, tiring, and spiritually and emotionally demanding.  This
congregation is also going enduring a time of transition.  Enduring transition so that it may in the end, emerge as a congregation that truly lives its values to the bone and marrow of that bone.  It’s hard work, and it’s going to take a while.
From Reverend Valentin’s sermon: “As a Latina with skin in the game for thirty years, I observe the changes our faith tradition is undergoing, and note that those not paying attention continue to perpetuate old narratives like: ‘Nothing has really changed it just looks different.’ Or, ‘People are withholding their money because they don’t like the direction we’ve taken.’ Now remember these ‘people’ are Unitarian Universalists who are trying to live out our seven principles, and maybe even an eighth one day. These are not random people who receive an email from the UUA requesting support. They are included in whatever version of ‘we’ is being upheld. They are people who love and are loved. They may have taught our youth, taken care of our babies or our sages. Whose inability to deal with open conflict has led to more conflict. Who refuse to understand how their lack of engaging the work causes microaggressions to spill out of them, like unexpected spit in the faces of people who look or talk, or act like me.  Who hang on to the supreme whiteness of being, at all costs, and who have not been able to grasp that we are all swimming in poisoned proverbial waters.”
The Unitarian Universalist Association and its affiliate organizations--the UU ministers, Religious Education directors, administrators associations and many of our UU churches--have embraced addressing systemic racism and decentering whiteness,
acknowledging the white supremacy culture we live in, and welcoming more marginalized groups to the table and into leadership.  The Unitarian Universalist Association considers addressing systemic racism and decentering whiteness an urgent matter, putting time, people and resources into this work.  Our denomination has donated toward and then helped raise the balance of 5.3 million dollars for Black Lives UU, so that people of color don’t just survive in this denomination; they can thrive.  At General Assembly 2017, Unitarian Universalists changed the second source from “we draw sustenance from words and deeds of prophetic men and women”, to “prophetic people”, acknowledging and affirming gender fluidity.  And in this most recent Ministerial Search season, churches across this country called more Transgender and differently-abled ministers to serve as full-time clergy than ever before.  All this positive action allows changing of hearts and changing of patterns of behavior and speech.  Even with recognizing how we swim in the “poisoned proverbial waters” of our white supremacy culture, there is still a lot of work to be done.  We’re changing a culture, and that, my friends, is complicated.
From Reverend Valentin’s sermon: “This is a complicated picture, yet despite all of this, you, the faithful gathered when much of what would happen this year was uncertain. As religious folks, our presence together gives life and potential to new actions. It takes this same faithfulness to jump into the concept of ‘we’, and your presence is an affirmation that you too are in pursuit of this Power of We, because the power of a community is deeper and stronger than the power any individual can have. It’s a matter of what defines that power, and I like the kind that has ‘we’ embedded in it.”
 “Your presence, [here this morning my friends] is an affirmation that you too are in pursuit of this Power of We, because the power of a community is deeper and stronger than the power any individual can have. It’s a matter of what defines that power…”
How will we here at Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Miami define “we” and how will we live this definition as a congregation.  What “we” will mean is still to be defined by you, the members and friends of this congregation.  It’s going to take time and a willingness to change comfortable behaviors.  You’ll need to open your hearts without hurting one another.  You’ll need to share experiences you’ve had, both positive and negative, in this culture of white privilege, experiences that may have left you uncertain and experiences you are willing to consider in a new light.
One of the other tasks that this congregation has decided is a priority for the minister is to provide spiritual leadership that ties UUCM’s diverse theological interests together and that re-invigorates spiritual nourishment and service.  To do that we’ll need to consider what needs to be in our virtual backpacks as we begin this journey of addressing systemic racism and de-centering whiteness in this congregation.
And just so you don’t think it’s all about you and none about me, let me share with you six things I try to remember to keep in my backpack as I work on addressing systemic racism and de-centering whiteness in my life:
Do my spiritual practices regularly
Listen deeply to others before trying to answer a question or determine a direction
Spiritually fill myself with the gifts of Unitarian Universalism, including UU history, the Principles and Sources and the meaning of these in my life.
Be in right relationship with others, which includes acknowledging my mistakes, pointing out when someone is out of right relationship, and returning to fractured relationships in the spirit of love. 
I ask for help when I need it.
And finally I make time for fun.
What do you think you will need in your virtual backpack to begin this journey of addressing systemic racism and de-centering whiteness?
This will be a shared journey that we will co-create, but I have been thinking of some things we might consider putting in our backpacks.  We might include books on white fragility, white supremacy, and the experiences of other cultures who live in this white supremacy culture.  Great topics for some really meaty book discussion groups.  We might include a list of places where people of differing backgrounds, cultures, ethnicities, genders, and beliefs gather, and then reach out to them and invite them to engage with us in heart-felt conversations about their experiences in the current culture.  We might include a list of Unitarian Universalist workshops that will help us create safe spaces for authentic and intentional conversations surrounding white privilege, white fragility, and de-centering whiteness in this congregation.
This is a lot to consider.  And we don’t want to over pack.  We’ll probably take it slow and easy at first, until we gain some momentum.  We might need to figure out how to prepare and condition ourselves for this journey.  We need to pack all the essentials, but we must also expect the unexpected.  Most of all let’s keep in mind that it is so much better to travel together, sharing our experiences as well as the work.  May this journey be one of new growth and deep meaning and some great stories—we will not reach the goal of addressing all the issues surrounding systemic racism and de-centering whiteness in the congregation, but maybe we can make 10 or 20 miles of the 50 miles we need to go. And as a loving community let us not forget to have some fun together as we travel. 

Monday, August 5, 2019

Companions on the Journey, Rev. Tom's first service at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Miami

When I was in search for a Unitarian Universalist congregation to serve, a funny thing happened at least a few times during the interview process.  One member of a search committee would ask me to tell a joke.  I thought for a while and realized I only remembered Unitarian Universalist jokes, like: Q: Why did the UU, Unitarian Universalist, cross the road?  A: To support the chicken in its search for its own path.  And a Unitarian Universalist dies, and on the way to the after-life encounters a fork in the road. The left path has a sign “To Heaven” and the right has a sign “To a Discussion about Heaven” Without pausing, the UU turns right.

            It is not a surprise that, like most people my age, I’ve seen some transitions in my life.  One that I reflect on regularly is my decision to become a Unitarian Universalist minister.  More than 20 years ago, I was a member of Bay Area Unitarian Universalist Church in Houston, Texas, in the community adjacent to NASA-JSC.  The minister there resigned after several unethical acts.  As a result, he lost much of what gave his life meaning and purpose—the UUA removed him from fellowship, which meant he could no longer be a minister, and his counseling license was stripped from him, so he could no longer practice counseling.  His resignation triggered in me a series of emotional reactions that only later did I realize was the surfacing of my call.  I asked myself if I lost everything that gave my life meaning and purpose, or if I knew my life would soon be over, would I have any regrets, anything that I had left undone.  And as if from no-where a summoning came from deep inside; I was called to Unitarian Universalist ministry.  I struggled with this concept.  I lost a lot of sleep.  I talked with Unitarian Universalist ministers, most of whom vigorously dissuaded me from my call. They said being a Unitarian Universalist minister was a hard, demanding vocation that would break my heart time and again.  They each affirmed that I should only follow my call if I wholeheartedly believed it was what I must do.  Doubts and second-guessing piled up.  Could I afford seminary? How would my family be impacted by my decision? Would I still have time for the simple pleasures of life that I had become accustomed to, pleasures that helped me cope with the stress life presented?  Questions with no clear answers.  My soul was really struggling.  This path would mean significant life changes and sacrifices for me and my family; my comfortable life would be turned upside down.  And there were no guarantees if I started down this path that I would eventually become a Unitarian Universalist minister. 

            Then I met a person who would companion me along this journey, Reverend Bob Schaibley.  Bob was there as I was struggling with my call, holding up a virtual mirror to my words, allowing me to realize that when I said I felt something deep within pulling me toward ministry, I sounded genuine, passionate, honest.  He told me that he too had had experienced such a call and was as scared and uncertain as I was.  He could not guarantee that if I followed this call that I would become a Unitarian Universalist minister—of course no one could do that--but he would be with me as I tried.  He would make time to listen to me; he would hold up that mirror to me so that I could understand what he heard, not just in words, but also what my heart expressed.  He affirmed for me again and again, it was possible for me a Unitarian Universalist minister.  And it was my choice to make this terrifying journey, no matter how many UU ministers were telling me to choose something—anything—else to do.  Bob didn’t sugar coat any of it. The sacrifices—the ones I would choose to make, the ones my family would have to make because of my call.  The debt, the night-long study, being short on sleep, and the relationships I would have to let go of because after my job, my family, and seminary, I wouldn’t have anything left over to give.  He told me what it would take to become a UU minister; and he told me what I would face as a UU minister.  He didn’t pull any punches, but he also held out hope and was willing to companion me through the process of seminary and fellowship. 

            My first ministry was with a 40 member congregation in Beaumont, Texas—Spindletop Unitarian Church.  I was asked to serve them before I was even ordained.  I felt like I couldn’t let them know how nervous I was. After all I was their minister and they needed me to the expert.  That’s what a minister is right?  An expert! On everything! All the time!  I wore my academic robes while I preached, a visible emblem of my expertise and my separation from the rest of the congregation.  But here’s the thing, I quickly learned, ministry is not about being an expert on everything, all the time. Ministry is about being a companion to a congregation.

            Think back on a time in your life when you were going through some difficulty or transition.  Maybe that was last year or last month.  Maybe it’s right now, today.  Who was a presence in your life while you were navigating this transition?  What do you remember about how that person?  Maybe you don’t remember what they said, but I bet you remember how they made you feel.  Supported.  Heard.  Hopeful.  Companioning is a term often used in grief work or in working with people with mental illness, but I have come to see it in broader terms.  Companioning, to me, is about holding holy space for a person or a group so that they can discover a path forward.  Here are some qualities of companioning that I ascribe to:

(Adapted from 11 Tenets of Companioning developed by Dr. Alan Wolfelt)

1.Companioning is about being present.

2.Companioning is about listening with the heart and mind.

3.Companioning is about being willing to go into the wilderness of the soul with another human being—or a congregation--bearing witness to the struggles without judgment.

4.Companioning is about walking alongside; it is not about leading or being led.

5.Companioning is about embracing curiosity and holding hope.

The benefits or gifts of this kind of relationship are:

(Adapted from “Companioning is about learning from others; it is not about teaching them” by Alan Wolfelt.)

We, together, find wholeness among fractured parts.

We come to know who you are in new and unexpected ways.

We come to a more profound understanding of your origins and your future directions.

We discover a story/a narrative that takes you into the future.

We determine how adversity has enriched your meaning and purpose.

We learn your truth in this present moment.

            In our relationship, the one you and I will build together, I will share my experiences, my knowledge, and my training with you.  I will not tell you that you need to do this or that to be the best, healthiest, highest performing person or congregation that anyone has ever seen.  I will listen, I will ask questions, and I will help you discern direction and priorities.  What is your identity?  What are your covenants?  What is your mission?  What are your goals?

            This congregation is a unique ecosystem.  You have been tending it, nurturing it, since its beginning.  There has been exciting growth and discouraging decline; there have been times of cool serenity and of cyclonic conflict; there have times of when there was a barrenness of meaning and times when a new purpose bloomed from fertile minds.  This is a time when there seems to be too much work for you, the people of this ecosystem, to manage all the components of this environment.  I bring an extra set of hands to help tend this ecosystem.   My roles here include staying on site to help tend the ecosystem and checking in with all of you spiritual environmentalists to see how you are doing.  I will also listen as you report on how you think/feel this ecosystem is doing.  I will learn from you what has worked and not worked so well as you have watched your ecosystem endure over the years.  And I will remind you and inspire you to stay focused on the tasks set before us. 

            When I met with your Board, your Search Committee and many of you in June, I found people eager for a companion on your journey.  I am here.  For the next five years I work with you.   One important aspect of this work is asking a lot of questions.  Here are some I will be asking in the coming weeks:

Which of our Unitarian Universalist Principles touches you most deeply and why?  Here are the Principles. 

Which of the UU Sources fills your spirit so that you can cope with the chaotic world we live in? And here are our Sources.                    

What social justice issue most calls to your heart and why?  How does being a member of this church impact your daily life?  What was your most moving moment here at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Miami?  Imagine coming to this church five years from now.  Tell me about what you hope to see and who you feel about it.  Imagine a Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Miami superhero.  What would his/her/their name be and why?  To that end, I will be reaching out to each of you during these first few weeks, to try to meet or at least talk with you.  I want to get to know each of you and, heads-up, I will ask you these questions.  Our shared journey begins now, no one of us ahead or behind the others, but all of us, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand, heart to heart.     

Thursday, December 20, 2018

The Mysterious Us, a goodbye sermon to DuPage Unitarian Universalist Church by Reverend Tom Capo


Once upon a time, there was a puppet made of salt who had traveled a long time through dry places and deserts until one evening he came to the sea.  He had never before seen anything like it and didn’t know what it was…  The puppet asked the sea: “Who are you?”  “I am the sea” it replied.  “But” the puppet insisted “what is the sea?”  “I am.”  “I don’t understand” said the puppet made of salt.  The sea replied, “That’s easy, touch me.”  The salt puppet timidly touched the sea with the tip of his toes.  At that moment he realized that the sea began to make itself perceptible, but at the same time he noticed the tips of his toes had disappeared.  “What have you done to me?” He cried to the sea.  “You have given a little of yourself to understand me,” the sea replied.  Slowly the salt puppet began to walk into the sea with great solemnity as though he were about to perform the most important act of his life.  The further he moved along, the more he dissolved, but at the same time he had the impression that he knew more and more about the sea.  Again and again the puppet asked, “What is the sea?” until the wave covered him completely.  Just before he was entirely dissolved by the sea he exclaimed “I exist!”


When I first started the called minister of DuPage Unitarian Universalist Church (DUUC) four and a half years ago, I wrote this in the August 2014 newsletter:  “So it begins.  Your newly called minister has finally come to join you.  After all he said during Candidating Week, what will he actually do?  Is he going to change everything? No, I am not going to change everything.  But I will bring some new ideas.  As Francis David said, “We need not think alike to love alike.”  This is how I hope my ministry with you will be—we do not always need to think alike as we work together but we will love alike as we share our lives with one another.   I want to hear what your ideas and beliefs are, and I will share with you some of my ideas and beliefs.  I will always keep in my heart and mind that this is your church, and that I am here to serve as your minister.  And that what we do here is a shared effort.”

When I looked over the search packet that you put together about this church I remember reading that one of your interim ministers once told you that this was your church and that you were the ones responsible for its welfare.  And that you took that to heart.  I wasn’t surprised; I was really amazed that you not only believed that, you acted on it.  I remember that within two months of my arrival, the Board planned to have a congregation-wide visioning workshop.  Well over a third of this congregation participated.  This sanctuary was filled with flip charts, while small groups of you considered what you have had here, what you have now, and what you want for the future of this church.  I thought “Wow, these people don’t mess around.  When they say they are going to do something they do it. I may their spiritual leader, but this is their church.”  I had not experienced such a high, active level of shared ownership before in a congregation.

         One of the memories that I cherish from my time here was early on in my ministry.  I put an ad in the October 2014 newsletter asking if anyone was interested in starting a Social Justice Committee.  Hoping maybe 8 or so people would show up I reserved the Clara Barton room.  When I went up to that room on that November 9 afternoon, it was overflowing, people sitting, standing all around, 30 plus people crammed in that small room, all hungering to do justice work.  We introduced ourselves and told each other why we felt compelled to attend this meeting. Some of you wanted to work on reproductive justice, some domestic battery, some income equality, some animal rights. Some just wanted to be part of a group effort to accomplish effective change in the world.  Some were interested in not only helping people in need but also in addressing the roots of the issues by changing laws.  In that first meeting, you chose co-chairs, decided to talk with more people in the congregation, decided to find one social justice initiative that the whole congregation could get behind, considered resources you had available, what outreach you wanted to do, how you might energize the congregation about social justice, so many things.  This congregation’s hunger for justice work has tremendous energy, resilience, and creativity.  And soon your hard work toward those dreams of a better, more just world resulted the SMILE Project, a summer mentorship program.  You truly are a “deeds not creeds” congregation, fairly unique in my experience.

         Differences can be difficult to manage in any church, but even more so in a Unitarian Universalist church with people of broadly diverse beliefs.  But while I have been here I have had experiences that affirm for me that it is really possible to own our differences and still grow in love.  One of the memories I treasure is the Sunday service that Scott Thompson, one of the leaders of Science Sunday and the Humanist group here at DUUC, and I put together called “Perspectives on Science and Religion.”  I began that service by telling you: “[Scott and I] had dinner a month or so ago and talked about the relationship between science and religion.   You probably will not be surprised to hear that our perspectives were different, but it may surprise you to hear our points-of-view shared some similarities.  What we hope to do here this morning is recreate, in part, the dynamic we shared that night in a convivial, relaxed setting where everyone involved shared their points of view with no goal of trying to persuade the other into changing their own viewpoints.  Rather, we simply wanted to learn more about each other’s perspectives on some the essential questions of life.  Our deep affection and genuine respect for each other meant that we could have meaningful conversations about our different understandings of the relationship between science and religion.  It was a great night where we truly lived our values with regard to our Unitarian Universalist Principles of accepting one another and affirming that our individual searches for truth and meaning may lead to different places.”  While differences of perspective have influenced my leaving this church, I treasure the many times when we were able to share our differences with love, respect, and affirmation, grounded in and living our Unitarian Universalist Principles.  The service that Scott and I led that Sunday was unscripted; it was a genuine conversation that engaged all the people who were present.  That Sunday is a treasured memory. 

          I would be delinquent if I didn’t mention the quality of music here at DuPage.  When I was installed as your minister in March of 2015, I asked Vickie Hellyer, our choir director, to have the choir perform “All You Need Is Love” by the Beatles, and she was happy to do so.  But here’s the thing, she didn’t just have the choir sing, she asked Art Freedman and the brass section he had recruited for the service to play during “All You Need Is Love”.  I swear when the choir sang, with the brass backup, I felt like I was listening to the Beatles live in this sanctuary.  Oh, I forgot to mention that Art also insisted that the brass play a joyful fanfare when I entered the room for the installation.  I was overwhelmed. And this choir doesn’t just sing.  No, I believe you have a Show Choir here.  Vickie choreographs where the choir will be, how and when they will move, always keeping in mind what will most effectively support the worship experience.  In addition to the choir, there are so many talented singers and musicians in this church who have performed in Sunday Services, like Jim and Becky today.  The quality of music I have experienced here, music that has supported the Sunday services, really has surpassed much of the musical programming I’ve experienced before coming to this church. 

          I ran across this poem by Robert Bly, called the “Third Body”, while preparing for this sermon:

 A man and a woman sit near each other, and they do not long

At this moment to be older, or younger, or born

In any other nation, or any other time, or any other place.

They are content to be where they are, talking or not talking.

Their breaths together feed someone whom we do not know.

The man sees the way his fingers move;

He sees her hands close around a book she hands to him.

They obey a third body that they share in common.

They have promised to love that body.

Age may come; parting may come; death will come!

A man and a woman sit near each other;

As they breathe they feed someone we do not know,

Someone we know of, whom we have never seen.

          What is this third body that Bly speaks of in his poem?  It is the liminal shared edges where two or more people dissolve into one another, like the salt puppet and the sea, becoming so interconnected that their relationship unfolds into a mysterious us, in addition to what each person is individually, fed with love and shared experiences.  And sometimes the mysterious us creates and achieves amazing things. 

            As I wrote these last words, I thought not only will I have to grieve leaving each of you in this wonderful, amazing congregation, I also have to grieve leaving this third body, this mysterious us.  The things we have been to each other, the experiences we have had with each other, and all the things we have accomplished together.  Recently I was talking to Ian Evison, the Regional Lead for the Mid America Region of the UUA, doing my exit interview as part of leaving this church.  He asked “what were the positive achievements of the minister and congregation during your ministry?”  So I started listing all the things the congregation and I have achieved while I have been here.  The staff and I developed into a collaborative working team.  The congregation and I developed a social justice committee that now operates under strong, effective leadership.  The Social Justice Committee and I developed the SMILE project.  The congregation developed a strategic plan.  The AV Team began live-streaming services.  Jean McCullum and the Green Sanctuary Committee got solar panels for the church.  Steve Cooper, Director of Religious Education, Mary Law, Congregational Life Director, and I started whole church ministry.  The Social Justice Committee started a monthly social justice forums. Congregation members started a new pagan group.  I, with a team of dedicated facilitators, started spiritual direction groups.  I started a thriving Christian theology and history group.  The Christian Theology and History group and I brought the Jesus Seminar on the Road to this church three times. This congregation hosted the Parkland high school students.  And the list went on and on.  I noticed that my answers to Ian’s other questions were much shorter than my answer to this question.  And I felt sadness thinking about losing the mysterious us and all that we have accomplished together.  I felt I had dissolved myself into this congregation, like the salt puppet dissolved into the sea, and now I have to leave.

          But recently, as my heart has begun to open a little, I realized something; I am really not saying goodbye to the mysterious us.  I realized that you are part of me now.  You have given me a taste of what a can-do congregation is like, so within me now is a hunger to help other congregations own their churches, to help them understand that the church is about them, not about their minister.  You have given me a taste for social justice that changes people’s lives, now within me is a hunger for social justice that impacts real lives as well as changes laws.  You have given me a taste for having difficult conversations that are respectful and loving, so now I have a hunger for difficult, and loving and respectful conversations, conversations that many people can engage in together, so we can better understand one another.  You have given me a taste of beautiful music with talented and creative performers, and now I have a hunger for consistently outstanding music, music that brings people more deeply into worship and offers them a different path to transformation.  I know how to satisfy this hunger because I know what of my experiences with you.

The mysterious us is not just about who we are together, it is who we have become by being together and that mystery will continue when we are separated from one another.

As in all meaningful and mysterious relationships, the deeper the love the deeper the pain when separation occurs.  Thus it is that I feel a piercing sadness over leaving each of you.  And while we each will experience this change in different ways, I have some solace in my heart knowing that I will continue to carry the mysterious us that we created together within me.  It is with that I say from deep in my heart, Namaste.