An Ongoing Story - redux

Transcription

1 Moving Forward a sermon by the Reverend Dr. Susan Veronica Rak preached on March 1, 2015 First Unitarian Church of Philadelphia, a Unitarian Universalist congregation An Ongoing Story - redux In The Speed of Darkness, poet Muriel Rukeyser writes: Time comes into it. Say it. Say it. The universe is made of stories, not of atoms. This morning I m repeating a piece of the sermon I preached last week on the story of First Unitarian Church. Today it is linked to visiting the history Timeline (which we did not do last week), and to healing. We approach this story with an open mind and remember that we human beings are unable to ever be as good, or as fair or just as we wish we were. we are reminded to let go of certainty. We need to remember that the opposite isn't uncertainty. Rather, it is openness, curiosity and a willingness to embrace paradox, rather than have to choose up sides. To tell the story of First Unitarian Church, we go back over 200 years, meeting a persecuted English scientist and Unitarian named Joseph Priestley. He came to Philadelphia and in 1796 persuaded a group of like-minded men to form a Unitarian Church - the ancestor congregation of this church. Your story goes back that far, and includes the persons and ministers that served for those 200 years. Some names, if they are remembered at all, mean little other than they are registered or carved somewhere in this building or chronicled on the church website. Yet you carry on the heritage of William Furness - a mister who served this congregation for 50 years ( ) whose commitment firmly established this congregation in the story of this city. He was an abolitionist and led others in taking of the cause of ending slavery. And his son would create this edifice that shelters and inspires us still - Frank Furness, the famed architect. After Reverend Furness comes a list of clergy persons, some of whom no one much remembers, but who ministered to their people and kept this congregation going on into the 20th century. Rev. Joseph May who served for 25 years. Rev. James Ecob Rev. Charles St. John Rev. Frederick Robertson Griffin whose ministry lasted 30 years Rev. Dr. Harry Scholefield March 2015 Page " 1 of " 7 Reverend Dr. Susan Veronica Rak

2 Rev. Anders Lunde Rev. Angus DeMille Cameron who returned to his native Canada when he became very uncomfortable serving an American church during the Viet Nam War Rev. Victor H. Carpenter Rev. Brian Kopke Rev. Ken Collier Rev. Benjamin Maucere and Rev. Dr. Holly Horn Rev. Nate Walker Even if all of these names are not part of our everyday experience, these, stories live on in all of us. The great philosopher and process theology founding father Alfred North Whitehead said: "The misconception which has haunted philosophic literature throughout the centuries is the notion of 'independent existence.' There is no such mode of existence; every entity is to be understood in terms of the way it is interwoven with the rest of the universe. The notion of independent existence as if our own individual stories and nothing to do with each other s stories - or the stories of the past that infuse the present. Even if we didn t live through it, whatever happened in this congregation, inside these walls ten, fifteen, twenty - even fifty - years ago resounds in our own stories. The story of this congregation is not just what some minister did or did not do. The real story is in the shared ministry - how the ministers and congregation worked together to fulfill the vision of this Unitarian Universalist congregation - to live out its purpose. Or not. We have no record, beyond rosters of Board members and minutes from Annual Meetings and votes tallied, of who those people were and what they did. Perhaps you were not here or part of this congregation when, ten years ago, when Reverend Benjamin and Reverend Holly resigned. It was, by most accounts, a painful time for the congregation and for the ministers. But remember, too, that their ministries were not always angst-ridden. There was inspiration in worship and aspiration in congregational stature while they served. Yet for whatever reason, perhaps for many reasons, it did not last. What is left of that story is sometimes told in stories about the budget and the endowment. Debts and repayments that haunt you still. And from that came a renewed sense of purpose and hope to do it better the next time around. And there was success and contentment for a while as Reverend Nate settled in as your minister. There was energy - and for many, delight - in the freshness, innovation, youthful vitality and openness of that ministry. March 2015 Page 2" of 7" Reverend Dr. Susan Veronica Rak

3 The new governance model, though, as helpful as it was in clarifying Board leadership responsibilities, did little to encourage a clearer understanding of shared ministry. No one person, no single minister, can be all things to all people and get everything done. That energy gave way to resentments and unfulfilled hopes. Eloquent and inspiring ends statements and monitoring reports of how these are being lived out are not enough to sustain a ministry, no matter how talented the clergy person may be or how committed the lay leaders are. So here you are, entering into a new chapter in the story of this congregation. You have high hopes. And there is a piece of this story for each of you because you know you want to tell a different story next time. That is why we start now, in preparing for a new ministry beyond a list of expectations of what you want this new mister to be. It begins with the story of who you are. What is the vision of this congregation? Is it a lighthouse, a beacon that stands for something and invites people to be involved and be committed to a shared ministry? Or is it a landmark, a historical marker were people stop and admire the history but do little to move the congregation forward. In the listening circles we held recently, someone told the story of Victor Carpenter, I think it was, who was minister here in the late 1960 s into the 1970 s. He said something akin to this: the train of progress has sped by First Unitarian Church and we are left standing on the platform. That sounds like someone who is remembered for his strong social activism and opposition to the Vietnam War would say - and it probably sounds harsh to some of you. Perhaps it is a judgmental statement, but the statement is worth taking to heart because we are these stories, too. You are - or could be - the congregation left standing on the platform, waiting for the next train of potential and hope to come along. You must take the time to discern what you will carry forward from these stories, into what you wish to be in the coming months and years. We are all interwoven with the rest of the universe so what you carry forward into this next chapter of your story, the story of this congregation, has the stories of all these past ministries in it as well. It is not a simple, straightforward story of success or failure. It is a human story of gifts and failings, of stellar moments and some despair. Behind you are all these other stories, all these other experiences. What does it mean to know these things? To have facts and figures? Dates and names? Does it change your experience? Not really - but perceptions change, and feelings do, too. So our job, as human beings and as members and friends of this congregation, is to find your place in these stories. March 2015 Page " 3 of " 7 Reverend Dr. Susan Veronica Rak

4 Moving Forward In "The Power of Stories", Reverend Jacqueline Lewis wrote: "I believe our identities are formed by stories told to us, about us, and around us. We are living texts, formed by multiple, interweaving, competing, and, sometimes, conflicting stories that we receive from our culture via our parents, other adults, our peers, the media, and congregational life." Our individual identities are formed by what we've been told... stories "about race, gender, theology, generational differences, sexual orientation, ethnicity, and class work consciously and unconsciously to form our identity. "Stories also teach us values, ethics, and meaning. Stories help us know who we are and who we are not; they create boundaries, or borders, for us." We've each been refining, editing (redacting), and authoring our own story in conversation with others. Each of us has done this throughout our lives. And then there comes a point when we confront the story we've been telling - the one based on the story we've been told. Sometimes these are in sync, are authentic and true - our stories and our values fit in the greater good of our family, community, etc. AND sometimes these stories need to be reframed - put in a way that fits our identity. And those identities - who we are, who we love, what we do - are formed in community. Jackie Lewis says that "Individual and group identities are formed in holding environments, or containers. And a congregation is one such container. We live our lives by these stories - the ones we tell and the ones we listen to. There is more in these stories than information, facts, data. They include how you have experienced them - the reactions, feeling, emotions, you've felt in these life events - and what you tell yourself about them, because in the retelling, you can feel the story all over again. None of us make it through life without some sort of painful experience happening. We encounter joy and happiness... and turn the corner and run smack into pain and suffering. When we are hurt or wounded in ways large and small we are left trying to make sense of it all. We try to figure out, from our earliest years, how life works... we look for our part in it. SO how we tell these stories is a huge factor in meaning-making. We can tell these stories in such a way that the pain is compounded in each retelling - the rehashing of hurts, the deepening of blame leaves us stuck in the quicksand of bitterness, stunted and maimed in spirit no matter how happy a face we might put on it. But we can tell our stories to help and point us toward healing. March 2015 Page " 4 of " 7 Reverend Dr. Susan Veronica Rak

5 Someone once said that we don t live with the facts of our lives, we live with the stories we tell ourselves about these facts. This is not meant to trivialize or diminish the very real, painful and hurtful reality you might have experienced. This is not to say you are not feeling dazed and wounded still or that you ought not be. But in retelling - as we find new ways of looking at the past - we can see a way through that... we can have hope that will release the "pain that lingers on in our hearts." Theologian Henri Nouwen captured this concept when he wrote, Our pains and joys, our feelings of grief and satisfaction, are not simply dependent on the events of our lives, but also, and even more so, on the ways we remember these events Our memories can act in a similar way. Whatever it was in our past that hurt, scared, embarrassed, victimized, or otherwise harmed us is no longer is happening today except in our memories and the residual effects of these events. Our hearts are the container of all our stories - pleasant stories, painful stories, and everything in between. And so we can move forward by finding the stories that we live by - those that give our lives meaning and hope. We all enter adulthood with a heart full of life stories. And some of these may be due for a healthy adjustment. How we tell our stories to ourselves and others tends to create how we experience life today. For example, if our trust has been broken in the past and we don t find healing, we will carry that pain and distrust into new relationships and potentially undermine them as a result. Whether the story is personal, as experienced in your own life, or communal - if such things have happening a community, like this congregation - broken trust and disappointments and hurts must be recognized and healed before we enter new relationships. So before new relationships are built and important choices made, individually and collective the story must be confronted, embraced or reframed before moving forward. Stories can spark action, or communicate who we are as individuals or communicate who we are as a corporate body (congregation); they can transmit values, foster collaboration, and tame the grapevine, putting to rest harmful gossip or misinformation. Stories share knowledge and prepare us for the future. They open us to imagination, to what lies ahead - the challenges and the possibilities - that affirm this congregation s ability to face change and transition to heal from it s hurts and missteps That s the imagination Reverend Davies mentions in the second reading, where ignition engenders sympathy where it allows for understanding - for the healing of wounds; imagination that may not heal everything but gives us the power to be kind. March 2015 Page " 5 of " 7 Reverend Dr. Susan Veronica Rak

6 In the retelling, you can feel the story all over again... and this is where the healing can start. May we find the courage - or help one another to find that courage - to open up our hearts to attain healing in the depths of our souls. A Ritual for Healing In Blackwater Woods by Mary Oliver Look, the trees are turning their own bodies into pillars of light, are giving off the rich fragrance of cinnamon and fulfillment, the long tapers of cattails are bursting and floating away over the blue shoulders of the ponds, and every pond, no matter what its name is, is nameless now. Every year everything I have ever learned in my lifetime leads back to this: the fires and the black river of loss whose other side is salvation, whose meaning none of us will ever know. To live in this world you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it March 2015 Page " 6 of 7" Reverend Dr. Susan Veronica Rak

7 against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go. Here at the front of the pulpit are piles of stones and two large bowls of water lightly scented with the healing oils of lavender and mint. The stones symbolize your stories - stories of joy, growth, pain, ambiguity, doubt. The water in these bowls represent healing and hope. Water - a symbol of sustenance, of what is required for all living things to grow and thrive; water that cleanses and heals; water as a symbol of the community for which we thirst; I invite you to come forward and, in silence or sharing a word or two, place a stone in the water to signify letting go of painful situations or memories or forgiving a hurt... not that this ritual will wipe any of it away forever, but is a symbol of your will and trust to move forward. Or place a stone in the water as a symbol of gratitude for gifts received and people who have enriched your life - or as a symbol of hope - or of the joy and blessing you would offer this community as a foundation for a new beginning. These stones and this water is a symbol of our trust in one another; in this ritual we assume the good intention of others and affirm our own good intention. Reading Failure of Imagination by A. Powell Davies ( ) I become more and more certain, as the years go by, that wherever friendship is destroyed, or homes are broken, or precious ties are severed, there is a failure of imagination. Someone is too intent on justifying himself, or herself, never venturing out to imagine the way things seem to the other person. Imagination is shut off and sympathy dies. If we know what it is that makes other people speak or act as they do, if we knew it vividly by carefully imagining all that may lie behind it, we might not quarrel. We might understand. Often we could heal the wounds. But even where that is not possible - and of course, we have to admit that it is not always possible - even where fuller understanding only leaves us rather sad and helpless, it would still give us the power to be kind - to act, yes, but still to be kind - to go on being kind. And in a harsh world, God know that even that is something - to go on being kind. March 2015 Page " 7 of " 7 Reverend Dr. Susan Veronica Rak