ministry

Waiting on a Delivery

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I sit here, cell phone in hand, waiting for a call. My daughter is now several days passed her due date to deliver my first grandchild and my anticipation is massive. I hate waiting.

But, I love deliveries. I gleefully go to my mailbox every day. My email accounts remain open constantly. I am even a glutton for the immense noise of Facebook updates.

So, this “package” weighs heavily on my mind. While the pressures on a PGK (Preacher’s Grand-Kid) may be mild, I do feel a special responsibility for contributing to her spiritual growth. My own children did not grow up with a minister for a father as I entered the clergy after they set out on life’s adventure as adults. But, this child will grow up with my ecclesiastical influence (albeit from a distance).

I have already dutifully provided some appropriate books for the nursery. And, beyond doing my share of grandfatherly spoiling (that is our primary job, after all), I do expect to plant the seeds of religious thinking in her developing mind.

I realize, however, that the most effective way of influencing others is simply by being the best person I can be myself. And, I must satisfy myself that if I do the best I can as a person, then a little of that will rub off on her. It will take many year, perhaps a lifetime.

I hate waiting.

Crickets in the Basement

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The other day, I was reminded of my Unitarian Universalist evangelicalism by a strange sound coming from my basement.  Standing in the kitchen, I heard something I should not have been hearing inside my house — a loud chirripping from the floor below.  Going down the stairs, the sound was so loud, my ears had difficulty locating it.  A cricket had somehow found its way in and was making its presence abudantly known.

My first thought was that you have picked the wrong place to seek out a lady cricket.  I wondered why the insect would make such a racket, lost in such an unfamiliar environment devoid of familiar plants and night air.  Perhaps it was just sending out sounds like sonar waves, trying to discern its location.  Perhaps it was angrily railing against the misfortune that carried it into a barren land, devoid of friends or food.

More than likely, I then thought, the poor thing is probably just calling out for help.  Panicked, the solidary creature was literally “screaming” for help in the chance that Providence would restore it to its rightful home.  I couldn’t help but wonder what the tiny bug was thinking of the books and boxes, the carpet and closets.

My mind couldn’t help but wander to all those people out there, lost in unfriendly circumstances, lacking friends and familiar surroundings.  Walking down the street, is the woman I just passed screaming silently for someone to help her?  Is that young man desperately reaching out figurative hands pleading for someone to crasp hold and pull him from his hole?  How many helpless, hopeless persons out there are crying out however they can, praying for their world to make sense.

Our congregations are often wonderful places and those who find their way to our doors are very often rewarded with deep fellowship and lifelong guidance along their spiritual paths.  But how many never see our buildings or hear our messages?  How many never smell the pulpit flowers or feel the touch of a helping hand pulling them toward sanctuary?
The world is filled with crickets in the basement, desperately trying to find a way home.  This coming Sunday is Homecoming for many of our churches.  Our congregations can help people deal with all the noise of their daily lives.  So, listen for the chirps in your life and invite someone to a worship service.  In their own ways, so many people are hoping they will be noticed and offered a hand of fellowship.  A basement may not be a dangerous place, but it is devoid of sustenance and leads nowhere.

Extreme Welcoming

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In my travels among different congregations, I have found many healthy, happy churches.  Unfortunately, finding them often takes a good deal of work on the part of the searcher.  We have many wonderful religious communities in our denomination.  But, too often we make the task of locating and entering those communities onerous.

The consequences of our inattention to outreach ministry was struck home to me last week when I attended a local folk music festival.  The odyssey started with driving to the fairgrounds and entering one of the two main entrances.  I shortly found myself facing a barricade with no indication of exactly where I was supposed to park my car.  After crawling around two such obstacles, I found a grassy area with cars and stopped.

Seeing no obvious starting point for the event, I walked over to the main building.  Inside I found an information table and some vendors selling instruments and music.  However, there was no starting place and no obvious location for the visitor to talk to someone about the schedule of events.  In fact, quite the opposite, no one spoke to me, offered assistance, or even said hello.

I walked around the room and was again astonished at the lack of interaction or interest in my presence at all.  When I did talk to people, their interest waned quickly when the realized that I was not “one of them.”  And although the posted information indicated that food was available, I found nothing but one small table selling bags of popcorn.

The event could have been very interesting.  Perhaps the group might have engaged me in what could have become a long and fruitful relationship.  Instead, I doubt that I will ever have much interest in the organization or its events again.

It saddens me to think of the many times I have heard similar stories from people visiting our churches.  Knowing how I felt that day, I would never wish that feeling of unwelcome on anyone, particularly someone looking for a religious home.

So, while you may be perfectly happy with your own congregation, take a moment and examine it through the eyes of a visitor, a stranger.  How welcome would you feel?  How would you want to be treated upon entering the space and in the days after?  Are the things you would want really all that extreme, or simply practices that should be commonplace?

Some Assembly Required…

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That’s a phrase every parent has dreaded at one time or another (especially at 4:00 a.m. on Christmas Eve as the bicycle lies strewn in uncooperative pieces on the floor).  Lately that phrase has run through my mind as I construct my new life here in Midland.  From the metaphorical (assembling new relationships with congregants and a new town) to the literal (a desk, three bookcases, an office chair, and a still-not-quite-functional filing cabinet) my life lies in pieces on the workbench waiting for Geppetto to assemble the puppet who would be a boy.  I’ve put together quite the collection of Allen wrenches and instruction manuals.

As much as I like to receive packages, I am beginning to yearn for some end to the chaos.  Something in me wants at least one room in my life to be finished.  Just once, I want to look around me and be satisfied.  As one of my favorite movie bad guys once said, “When Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept for there were no more worlds to conquer.”

The real problem, though, is believing in the illusion of completion.  There really is no such thing as being finished with anything.  Just as the elements that comprise our universe are in a constant state of flux, so our lives consist of an endless stream of shifts and changes.  I suppose if I ever got everything that I think I want, I would immediately identify some new desire or place for improvement.  I’ve come to believe that enlightenment is not a stagnant state of serenity and wholeness, but rather an attitude that nothing is permanent and that no current state of anything really matters at all.

In the meantime, I’ve got piles of unsorted books beckoning for my attention, a sad recliner due to fall apart suddenly as I sit to watch the next episode of Hell’s Kitchen, and a garage full of shipping boxes awaiting the next “heavy item” garbage pick up day.  Until I achieve a transcendent state, I will seek that balance between the nirvana of the perfect home and a disorganized and unmanageable hovel.  And I will continue to embrace the many opportunities before me to assemble my life.

Floating Logs in the Stream of Life

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Before my move to Midland, I took one last walk south along the railroad tracks out of Smithton toward Jacob’s Creek.  The summer temperatures had fallen, but the air was still muggy and warm.  I went to an opening along the bank where people launch kayaks and canoes to drift along the Youghiogheny River.  I have sat there before watching the water flow by, but the log I had used before to sit comfortably was nowhere to be seen.  Doubtless some camper tossed it onto a fire not knowing they were depriving me of my resting place.

So, I wandered along the fishermans’ trail, tossing branches and stones into the water.  Unable to find a place to sit and rest in solitude, I grew restless and unable to allow my mind to wander unfettered.  I headed back along the road.

I soon came upon an old, partially-rotted piece of wooden guard rail post.  Still close enough to the water, I tossed the semi-log in.  It hit the surface with a low plomp, sank, and quickly resurfaced.  In no time, bulky block of wood sped along with the river.

Now walking with the current, I found that I could easily keep pace with the floating wood.  With its large exposed surface, it reminded me of a Mark Twain raft drifting along the mighty Mississippi.  I started gaining ground and stayed paces ahead as I walked.  Occasionally a car would pass by, forcing me to hug the guard rail and check up on my small ark.

Watching the steady progress, I thought of my kids as they grew and went off into the world.  Had I wanted to, or really needed to, I could have lumbered down the bank and jumped in to retrieve my child from the current.  But in reality, I was consigned to watching its inevitable journey, knowing that I had provided the initial impetus and castoff.

As the foliage grew taller, I only caught fleeting sight of the floating log until the weeds grew too high.  At the same time, the road started to dip slowly away from the water, and I knew that ever a herculean effort would not rejoin us again.  I began to imagine its future course down the river, knowing that I could do nothing to influence its path significantly.

Returning home, I couldn’t help but think of all the times in our lives that we give birth to activities and ideas and how soon they develop lives of their own, quickly moving out of our control.  When theologians talk about the cycle of birth and death, they often only include consideration of salvation of the individual or the progress of the soul along the path of reincarnation.

But, in fact, our lives abound with little births, giving rise to lives – some fleeting and others carrying on long after our own demise.  More often than not, we are completely unaware of our continual creations and the impact they have on others.  Perhaps a respect for the interdependent web of all existence begins with such awareness.

My Life as My Books

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I don’t suppose a therapist would classify this an addiction, but I am inordinately fond of books.  Having just moved to a new home in Midland, I find most of my time consumed by organizing books, buying shelves for books, and grieving the loss of a handful that fell victim to a spill in the moving van.

People ask why I want to possess so many books.  Why do I keep books I have already read?  Why do I buy books easily available in libraries, even online?  And why would I keep a book that I am entirely unlikely to ever read?

I will admit that my bibliophilia borders on the obsessive.  I do use libraries liberally and love the growing availability of documents on Google Books and other resources.  Logic certainly would not explain the contents or size of my personal collections.

But, there are reasons for my madness.  I am comfortable around and among books.  Sometimes I feel smarter or more insightful just knowing that all of that collected knowledge resides in immediate proximity.  There is an art to the library, from dust jacket illustrations to bindings.  And, the symmetry and line of rows of texts appeals to my design sense.

The primary reason for my peculiar compulsion, however, is how my books help my spiritual practice.  Just as I love to saunter along streets and pathways, I also love to walk among ideas in my mind.  I cannot count the number of times a worship service design changed direction after a casual glance at a neighboring book, or the coincidental discovery of a text related (often in an obscure way) to the subject of my sermon.  I know that virtual libraries will in time replace my beloved stacks.  But, I will miss wandering among the towering shelves of Dewey-decimalled dusty tomes.

General Assembly: Opportunities

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This amazing week of talking, singing, listening, and worshipping continues here is Charlotte.  Yesterday, we heard a number of reports during the Plenary sessions that gave me great hope.  Both reports gave me tasks to pass onto my new congregants at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Midland as possible new initiatives.

During his report on the activities of the UU-UNO (Unitarian Universalist United Nations Office), Bruce Knotts related the enormous impact we have in that body.  From women’s rights, to the safety of children, to the protection of LGBT individuals, Unitarian Universalists are at the forefront of United Nations efforts.

Our office in the UN works with a network of congregational representative network of Envoys.  Envoys connect the congregation to the UU United Nations Office and get important information on current UN activities.  They receive information on our program initiatives and then plan events in their congregation to promote the program.  Envoys are extremely valuable to the UU United Nations Office because they are the link between the office and the global UU community.

As someone committed to the work and purposes of the United Nations, I hope to enlist someone in my new congregation willing to serve this important function.  Being connected to the United Nations is one important way to stay in touch with the entire world, bringing our message to people everywhere and helping people in need or whose rights are being abused.

In another report Bill Schulz, former President of the Unitarian Universalist Association and subsequently President of Amnesty International, reported on new initiatives being undertaken by the UUSC (Unitarian Universalist Service Committee).  As Schulz powerfully articulated, the UUSC is involved in basic and simple efforts to help people access potable water, find economic justice, and end torture across the world.  He announced the creation of the College of Social Justice, designed to give all Unitarian Universalists the chance the opportunity to live out their religious values through an institution founded on UU values through learning on on-site service opportunities.  I hope to encourage every member of my new congregation to join the UUSC in its important work.

So, get ready Midland.  We are going to rock the world!

A Call to Ministry with Youth

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People often ask ministers about their call to this work, this life of ministry.  The seed of my call was working with our teenage youth.  I taught junior and senior high religious education classes in my church, wrote curricula, attended youth conferences and trainings, helped develop youth leaders through district and continental events and organizations, and simply listened.  As a youth advisor, I met amazing people, many of whom I now see as congregational and denominational leaders, workers for justice, even other ministers.

When I entered seminary, I had to leave my youth work behind so that I could expand my base of experience and knowledge.  A major element of the discernment process involves finding the direction of one’s ministry.  Some people find their path in chaplaincy.  Others find attraction in community ministry and lives of public service.  Of course, many aspiring ministers pursue a dream of parish ministry, eventually serving as the spiritual leader of a congregation and speaking from our free pulpit with the prophetic voice spoken by generations of courageous forebears.

I now enter my first settled position, having been called to the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Midland, Michigan.  Unexpectedly, I find the cosmos wending full circle on one element of my ministry, calling me back to youth work.  My new congregation stands poised to expand its outreach into the community, and I have every reason to believe that many new faces will cross our threshold in the coming years.  In particular, I hope to build a lifelong learning ministry that attracts many children, youth, young adults, their families and friends.

New ministers face many demands and choosing where to devote their time and energy presents a daunting challenge.  I have decided that among my commitments will be providing my leadership and energy to the Youth Group.  And, beyond a broader emphasis on addressing the needs of young adults – be they students, single, young parents, mobile professionals – I hope to specifically focus on ensuring that youth and young adults in those tumultuous years know that they are loved, that this congregation cares about their spiritual development, and that we invite their active engagement.

Every year at General Assembly, I listen to the recounted history of the struggles of the Unitarian Universalist Association with anti-racism and anti-oppression.  I cannot count the times I have read about and heard accounts of infamous events and actions in recent decades during which we learned in painful ways the hurt felt by people of color in our movement.  The Unitarian Universalist Association continues to travel toward wholeness and must never forget its legacy of effort and growth.

We also possess a checkered past with regard to our youth ministries.  One does not minister with youth long before hearing about past betrayal: the abdication of adult participation in the late 1960’s and 1970’s; the dismantling of Liberal Religious Youth in the early 1980’s; and the recent refocusing of efforts away from the directions taken by Young Religious Unitarian Universalists in the past 30 years.

At the Synergy Bridging ceremony at General Assembly in Charlotte on June 24, 2011, Betty Jeanne Reuters-Ward spoke of this most recent bend in the historical road of youth ministry.  Her passionate words resonated with a visceral pain, much like the hurt I have heard for years from LRYers.  As a long-time youth advisor, I shared Betty Jeanne’s emotions, and I felt that tightening in my chest of loss; that pang of grief for a life ended prematurely.

Our denomination has what can only be considered in my opinion a shocking record of failure to retain Unitarian Universalists as active congregational participants from youth into young adulthood.  I have often heard estimates that 90% of our youth leave our churches as they bridge into young adulthood.  Many never return.

I am enraged by this statistic.  I seethe with fury that we, as a denomination, too often accept this effect as expected, even normal.  I never want to lose any member of our churches for any reason.  But to accept the loss of so many talented, loving, and dedicated people – most of whom were born and raised in our movement – without massive outcry and response i s appalling and unconscionable.

So, I am rededicating my effort to minister with youth.  In my congregation, through denominational effort, through distance outreach and social networking, I will do whatever I can to minister with our youth.  And, I call on each and every Unitarian Universalist minister to increase their commitment to this important ministry and to heal this history of disappointment and neglect.  Meet with your youth groups. Help them learn more about worship and spiritual growth.  Work with them on service projects.  Dance, sing, and act; dream and envision; teach and be taught; empower them to lead.  Be their ally.  Sit with your youth in person and in spirit and guide them toward a lifelong love of our religion, commitment to our principles, and fellowship in our congregations.

General Assembly: Painful Reminders and the Work Ahead

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As joyous as this week can be, General Assembly also reminds us of our failures and mistakes, and of the enormous challenges still lying ahead for us as a denomination.  Many program sessions this week have spoken of declining church attendance and the urgency for our congregations to be more relevant in peoples’ lives and in our society.  One speaker after another reminds us that church cannot simply be about the Sunday morning service, but must be the about the way we live every day.

Today, thousands of Unitarian Universalists and others marched in downtown Charlotte to call people to act against proposed actions before the North Carolina legislature discriminating against gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and transgender individuals, their families and friends.  The rally featured dynamic speakers and members of the broader faith community in impassioned appeal to act for justice.  The gathering reminded me that I must remain diligent in the ongoing struggle of people seeking rights I take for granted, and equal treatment in the eyes of our society.

In the evening, the annual Synergy worship service honoring the passage of our youth into adulthood featured many speakers addressing our history of ministry with youth.  Betty Jeanne Reuters-Ward spoke of growing up in Young Religious Unitarian Universalism (YRUU), and the hurt felt by many when the program was dismantled a few years ago.  As a long-time advisor and advocate for youth, her words brought back that pain for me, as well.  And even though I know bear the full portfolio of ministerial responsibilities, Betty’s words reminded me of the roots of my calling and moved me to once again reach out to our youth and, hopefully, help to heal the wounds caused by our reorganization efforts and our chronic inattention to the spiritual growth of our children and youth.

And, throughout the week, conversations with my colleagues from seminary have reminded me of the enormous challenges facing Meadville Lombard Theological School.  Faculty departures, the sale of our historic campus, and other administrative actions have left many of us feeling estranged from our alma mater and concerned for the future of ministerial education in our denomination.

I love the singing, the hugs, the warmth and caring of dear friends.  But, General Assembly also reminds us that we still have much work to do.  One speaker today discussed the notion that “god” is a verb.  Our spiritual beliefs are not some static bunch of words, or ritualized acts we repeat without further thought or commitment.  Being a Unitarian Universalist is a full-time vocation and every day provides us a variety of opportunities to live our principles, to walk the path to justice, and to reach out to others in compassion.  Every new dawn presents a fresh day for action, for healing, and for love. 

How will you live your faith today?

General Assembly: Traditions

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A vital element about attending General Assembly (or any denominational event beyond the walls of our congregations for that matter) is the experience of traditions – rituals that we may not conduct in our own religious communities, but that unite us with other Unitarian Universalists, wherever they call home.  For me, the Service of the Living Tradition is one of the most important of our rituals.

Every year, the Service of the Living Tradition celebrates Unitarian Universalist ministry, particularly highlighting the achievements of fellowshipping, retirement, and the lives of ministers recently passed.  I have worked five years to become a Unitarian Universalist minister, and waited five long years to walk proudly and sing loudly in this jubilant event.

In recent years, applause after each read name was discouraged.  This year, the organizers recognized that in our tradition, the recognition of ministerial authority arises from our congregations.  So, rather than march us to the stage in one unbroken line, this year we all sat among the attendees until our names were called, able to join with our congregants, family and friends.  When called, people were free to applaud, whoop and holler as we rose and walked to the stage.

My adrenaline spiked as I heard my name and leaped from my seat surrounding by the voices of congregants, friends from seminary, and colleagues.  In particular, I was thrilled to have my daughter Ashley and son-in-law Kevin in attendance, who drove from Jacksonville just to see the old man get his “diploma.”  I couldn’t have been happier…joyful…jubilant.  Ashley is carrying my first grandchild, due to arrive for my spoiling pleasure in early September.

There is simply no greater rush than singing Rank by Rank Again We Stand with thousands of Unitarian Universalists.  A tear rolled down my cheek during the Chalice Lighting, and the rest was a blur until the recession.  I walked back through the auditorium, singing at the top of my voice, robe flowing, to For All the Saints.  I then hugged everyone, from former congregants, to fellow ministers, to young adults I have known for many years as advisees and now lifelong friends and colleagues. 

This was a special night that will forever live in my memory.  When people ask me about my call, the work and sacrifice, and living the life of a minister, if you see a little smile arise on my lips, then you will know I am thinking about this celebration, this wonderful Unitarian Universalist tradition.