Story
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!”
Sermon
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.
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