A Reasonable Hope: 50 Years of Ministry

Fifty years of ministry sounds ripe, a golden age of wisdom.
But when we separate it out as 30 years and 20 years
it sounds more like early adulthood or late adolescence.
There’s much more to come.

We’re learning is to expect the unexpected.
We hope to keep learning and experiencing and growing.

In fact the title of this sermon “A Reasonable Hope” comes from Frederick May Eliot,
President of the American Unitarian Association from 1937-1958.
He worked to merge Unitarians and Universalists into one association.

Eliot said, “The education of a liberal minister is life-long.
This does not mean that the years spent in a divinity school are unnecessary
or that they cannot be the most important single factor.
But what I think it does mean is that we must rid ourselves of the notion
that the bestowal of a ….degree is anything more than a certificate of competence
to pursue an education with a reasonable hope.”

What we offer this morning is not our fifty years of ministry,
but how those years inform our ministry now,
what taps us on the shoulder, what preaches to us, what we find to be most important.

We recently pursued our education,
attending a week long preaching conference in Nashville.

This was not a Unitarian Universalist event,
but a national conference.

We signed on without really knowing what we were going to.
As the date grew closer, we had doubts:
“The timing is terrible.”
“We have too much to do.”
“We need more information.”
“What if the theology leaves us out?”
“What if we don’t feel connected, seen or understood?”
“Does it cost too much?
“Should we be doing this?”

We went.

Each morning at 8:45 was a worship service with a great sermon,
followed by a lecture, really just another great sermon,
followed by worship with a great sermon,
followed by a lecture, another great sermon.
After lunch boom, boom, boom,
great sermon, great sermon, great sermon.
In the evenings was music: a traditional Protestant choir, gospel music, jazz, folk,
Sweet Honey in the Rock.
Musicians told stories and performed songs that were really more great sermons.

Not every thing was perfect, some language didn’t fit.
But by far, this was the best professional conference we’ve ever attended.
It was so good to sit and receive.

Words, stories, music washed over us.
We sat and cried.

“How smart of us to register for this good conference.”

“How perfect to break from routine at this busy time of year.”

“This was just what we needed.”

While we were in Nashville, we got word of the death
of 28 year old Heather MacCracken.
Heather and her husband Darren
have been youth group advisors and Coming of Age mentors.

It felt so unbelievable that Heather had been speaking
in the Coming of Age service on Sunday
and then a few days later was no longer alive.

A mix-up of prescription medicines took her life.

We don’t expect death to come like this.

So unexpected, so sad, so tragic, too young, not fair, not right.

What a loss for her 26 year old husband Darren.
What a lot for him to carry.

And talk of Coming of Age.

The kids came of age and then right away
they were dealing with death.

It was hard to be across the country.

We called Darren and others.

We trusted this community to respond.

Another advisor called the youth to let each one know of Heather’s death.
As they heard, some youth gathered at one of the homes.

Parents, youth, advisors, leaders, lay and professional, were all supporting one another, comforting, listening, doing tasks, taking care, ministering.

Talk about great sermons.
Now there’s a great sermon.

Each of us here, preaches with our lives.

The two of us wish we could preach powerful sermons like we heard in Nashville.
But what really matters is how we, and you, live.

Some really fine preaching has been going on here.

People have been dealing with death,
not like how we expect it to be,
but how it sometimes is.

Again and again life presents the unexpected, the unforeseen.

Life is complex, a mystery,
without guarantees, without easy explanation or answers,
Life is painful —
and precious.

Imagine having to deal with this all by yourself.

How rare it is in our society to have children, youth,
and all ages of adults, deal with life together.
How good it is to have a community.

What is at the heart of it is compassion,
loving ourselves as we love one another as we love the source of life.

How can we say this and give these words meaning?

Respect ourselves as we respect others as we respect life.

Care for ourselves as we care for others as we care for life,
growing, risking, exploring, being with, living while we are alive.

Unitarian Universalist minister Anne Heller offers this understanding of ministry.
“Ministry is about being open hearted,
having love that is redemptive and freely given;
paying attention to and caring about each other,
tribal elders and brand new babies and children coming of age;
celebrating marriage and mourning people who die.
It is about…myths and stories, struggles, and watershed events.
It is about carrying our history and witnessing our lives.”

We all preach with our lives and ministry is something we all share.

There have been powerful sermons all year long.
In Chalice Circles, small groups,
people have listened to one another without interruption,
each speaking from their experience on topics like: community, intimacy, forgiveness.

All year long they have been preaching by their sharing.

Recently, people who had participated in Chalice Circles,
gathered to reflect on their experience.

How wonderful it is after these years of ministry
to hear people saying-

I’ve never felt in a group before such acceptance, openness, depth.

It was safe.

I became more courageous.

The best part was being heard and hearing myself.

Now I look in the sea of beautiful faces in the sanctuary on Sunday and see friends.

Highlights were vulnerability,
honest revelations,
the variety of thought and experience,
knowing we have been formed by similar experiences,
appreciating each other whether we agree or not,
learning to listen without thinking of a response,
resolving issues between people.

What a gift to hear people say-
After the sessions, I thought about things others had said,
glad for new thoughts.

I enjoyed our service project,
preparing food together at the soup kitchen.

Highlights were deep soul-searching,
laughter,
kinship,
authenticity,
trusting others,
taking what we practiced here to other conversations.

It was a new experience to speak without cross talk
and be able to speak without interruption.

I like the practice of keeping open a place for a newcomer.

I got to know and appreciate relative strangers
who are now people I care about.

A highlight was assuming the good intentions of everyone.

The group provided balance and continuity-
a special time “for me” that I could depend on.

At first I didn’t know the Chalice Circle process.
I criticized the structure, but unexpectedly came to appreciate it and find it rewarding.

What gifts of living we give to one another!

Recently the Board of Trustees met. They did no business.
Each person spoke of how things are with their spirit.
What are the deep places that are being touched?
There were laughter and tears.
People were getting to know, respect, trust, and love one another.

More eloquent preaching.
A couple of nights later other organizational bodies,
the Council and the Coordinating Team, met.
Each person had a turn to draw out of a stack of cards a question-
“What was the happiest time in your life?”
“If you could change one thing about your family, what would it be?”
“What is your most prized possession?”

Because it was the Council and they lead the congregation in dot voting our priorities,
the person who answered chose two other people to answer the same question
by sticking dots on their foreheads.

It was playful and fun.
People spoke.
Again laughter and tears were shared-
respect and love growing, preaching with our lives.

We have this life-saving way of being with one another.

When we are born, we don’t really know what we are getting into.
We don’t know if we’ll feel connected, seen or understood.
We don’t know what the costs are. We aren’t sure of the process.
We don’t have everything figured out
before we’re into the thick of it.
And we’re humans; we don’t get everything right.
There’s uncertainty,
no guarantees,
no easy explanation or answers.
It’s painful
and precious.

We know how to be with one another.
We know how to assume good intentions.
This keeps us going with reasonable hope.

You need this.
The way we are practicing being with one another is good.
It’s life-giving.
We have this practice, this gift to share.
How can we imagine and experiment offering it to more people?
Sharing can be fun. Everybody can keep receiving and giving.
This community can grow both wider and deeper.

Isn’t this our ministry to the larger world-
a vision and the practice of inclusive and compassionate community?
Vision, energy, love are here in abundance to be released and shared.

This year and in our 50 years of ministry, moments of community, of connection
are what touch our souls.

These moments outweigh all others, sustain us and compel us forward.

It’s tempting to get lost in busyness.

We know something about hunkering down, tightening up, crunching onward,
losing sight of the big picture,
getting out of touch with the dance of passion and power, strength and love and joy.

Sometimes we forget what really matters.

And then something happens-
Two people sit down together and surprising depth is shared.
Hearts crack open in meeting.

Something breaks in on all the busyness.
We take some quiet time for worship.

You leave a long meeting, then take in the expanse of the bay.

Something happens.
A baby is born.

The children’s choir sings and the whole congregation responds in song.
The youth come of age and their wisdom is heard.

A couple choose to marry.
A group shares their stories.
People come together for a meal or a dance.

Something happens.

People come together for a field day, run three legged races,
toss eggs, get their faces painted, eat nutritious cotton candy, sno-cones, chili dogs,
and dunk Chris-

or someone among us dies.

Something happens to knock you off your feet.

We stop in our busy chugging along tracks.

We slow down. We open.

There’s a whole new dance to dance.

How goes it with your spirit?

What is breaking in on your ordinary, expected routine?

What’s tapping you on the shoulder?