Mother's Day

And I'm afraid this Mother's Day turned out to be a truly bittersweet occasion for me. The morning started wonderfully, with my first Sunday Service as the candidate for the Pulpit at the First Parish in Portland Maine. Worship was very inspiring -- over two hundred adults in attendance, lots of fantastic energy and excitement, laughter and love. And then in the afternoon, when I got back to my hotel, a phone call from my Dad, telling me that my Mom had been back in the hospital since Wednesday, with an apparent recurrence of her breast cancer. But she didn't want me to be worried or distracted when I went into the pulpit Sunday, so she made him promise not to tell me until after I got back from church. That's my mother. Who would also be mortified if she knew I was writing this here.

Earlier that morning I had been thinking about just how fortunate I am at my age to still have two living parents, and was especially thinking about my mom...given the holiday and all. I well know from my work in ministry how many people my age have already lost one or both of their parents...and I've sometimes wondered how I was going to react to this sort of news...whether my pastoral experience having traveled this path with others will be a help to me personally, or if rather (as they often say) it's just not the same. And I suppose it's actually still too soon to tell. My mom is only 72 (with a birthday next month), and both her parents lived well into their eighties. We still have no idea how serious this recurrence may be, or what kind of treatment options are available. But still, this is a tough transition...from being cancer-free to living with cancer. And (the truth be told), no doubt eventually dying of cancer.

But back to church for a moment. For the children's story I did a little shtick I've often done in times past, where I show the kids the different parts of my clerical attire -- the robe, the hood, the stole, etc -- and talk a little about where they come from and why ministers dress the way they do. The robe is black, for example, so you never have to wash it and can wear it over anything; the hood is both headgear and a bookbag (and I always put it on my head to demonstrate the former); the stole was originally a towel for washing (and drying) people's feet, an important gesture of hospitality. It's fun because I like to do it question and answer style, and I also show them things like my cowboy boots from West Texas (which I always wear on my first Sunday somewhere, just so if the sermon doesn't go well I can say I "died with my boots on"), and talk about the three stripes on the sleeves of my robe in terms of being both a "sergeant" as well as a "doctor" -- i.e. a learned "professional" qualified to be a "professor" of "doctrine."

But because it's Q & A, you can never really be certain what the kids will come up with, which is always part of the excitement. So when I asked the children why they thought I was wearing Cowboy Boots under my robe, one little girl piped up "Because they're Lucky?" -- which was, of course, EXACTLY why I wear them. But even more to the point, when I asked whether the children knew what doctors do (in order to help distinguish between a doctor and a physician), that same little girl replied "They help people." That's right, Doctors help people. Maybe I don't have to make a distinction after all.

In any event, here is the text of the sermon I preached yesterday, since I don't really have plans to post it anywhere else. And your prayers and good wishes, both for my mother and for my ministry, are always gratefully appreciated.


A WARM AND WELCOMING PLACE
IN THE HEART OF THE CITY

a sermon preached by the Rev. Dr. Tim W. Jensen
at the First Parish in Portland, Maine
Mother’s Day, Sunday May 13th, 2007


I thought I’d start out this morning simply by saying out loud just how excited, honored, and humble I feel to be standing up here in front of all of you this morning. I honestly can’t imagine anywhere else in the world I would rather be right now (and believe me, I have a VERY vivid imagination), then here in this magnificent house of worship, located right in the heart of this vibrant city, with its distinguished history, and heritage of ministry to the citizens of this community, and likewise what I believe is an important destiny of continued service and witness here in Portland to the values of our progressive and liberal faith tradition. So I’m thrilled to have been invited here to this high pulpit as the candidate to become your next settled minister, and with your approval, assistance and support, to serving the members of this congregation to the best of my ability as your pastor, and teacher, and spiritual leader.

This week also represents the culmination of a lot of hard work by a relatively small group of very devoted individuals who you entrusted with the responsibility of searching for your next settled minister. And it’s natural to want to celebrate that achievement... and I certainly hope that next Sunday we will all have plenty of celebrating to do, and that you will all be back here again to help get that part of the job done properly. But I also want to remind folks that this week also represents the beginning of something new, and that as eager and as curious as I’m sure you are to find out all about me, I also need you to help me get to know about all of you...and especially to understand your personal hopes, dreams and aspirations for the future of this congregation. Because I’m not coming here will a standard blueprint and a big bag of magic tricks for turning this church into the “perfect” church (whatever that might be) overnight. All I really have is a good heart and a relatively keen mind -- two commodities which I suspect this congregation already possesses in great abundance. And I also have faith that when we put our hearts and minds together, there is almost no limit to the things we can accomplish here. And this is what truly excites me about the privilege of having been selected as your Candidate.

Today is also Mothers Day, and I feel like I would somehow be shirking my responsibilities if I didn’t at least make mention of the occasion. Those of you who have looked into the matter already know that the second Sunday in May was designated as “Mother’s Day” by President Woodrow Wilson in 1914, after about seven years worth of lobbying by a Philadelphia Schoolteacher named Anna Jarvis. But the idea of a “Mother’s Day for Peace” actually goes back to the 1870’s, and was pioneered by the Unitarian social activist Julia Ward Howe. And of course nowadays it is mostly a sentimental holiday featuring cards and flowers, long distance phone calls and kids cooking breakfast (or, better yet, taking Mom out for brunch). And yes, it’s important to celebrate motherhood...but I also hope we can hold in our hearts the original sentiments of this holiday, especially when the sons and daughters of so many mothers now find themselves in harm’s way.

My own mother probably deserves some sort of medal for having reared three very rambunctious boys safely to adulthood; but she certainly wasn’t perfect (I doubt that any mother is), and yet she also did the best she could (as I suspect every mother does). And since my brothers and I all pretty much turned out OK, she certainly deserves most of the credit for that. But there are at least two things my mother tried to teach me when I was young that I wish I’d had the wisdom then to ignore, and since I suspect that many of your own mothers also tried to teach you these same lessons, let me tell you what they are.

The first lesson that I wish I’d had the wisdom to ignore was to Always Clean Your Plate. This may have been a perfectly good rule when I was still a skinny little kid who ran around at top speed all day long (no doubt in those days fueled by lots of sugar coated breakfast cereal), but who was also kind of a picky eater who refused to eat anything green. But nowadays I often tend to have a lot on my plate (both figuratively as well as literally), and it would be nice to know deep down in my heart that I don’t always have to try to wolf down everything at one sitting, and then ask for seconds so that the cook knows I liked it. Generally it’s a lot better idea simply to take things one bite at a time until you feel like you’ve had enough (at least for now), and then to set your fork down until you’re ready to eat again.

And then the second lesson I wish I’d known enough to ignore is to Never Talk to Strangers. Again, I can see the wisdom of this rule for young children who are perhaps TOO trusting and vulnerable, and therefore need to be protected a little from their own good nature and gregarious instincts. But talking to strangers is what the church, and particularly its ministry, are ultimately all about. Because ultimately what authentic spirituality teaches us is that there ARE no strangers; instead we are all brothers and sisters to one another, children of the same (metaphorical) Mother. Yet until we learn how to talk honestly and openly with one another, no matter how strange the “other” may seem, we will never have true peace in this world.

Which brings me to the topic that I really want to talk about this morning. It’s customary in our tradition for ministerial candidates to share their views, on their first Sunday in the pulpit, regarding the Nature and the Mission of the Church and its Ministry. Of course, since the basic mission of the church (and perhaps I should add, of religious communities in general) hasn’t really changed all that much in thousands of years, these sermons can start to sound a little repetitive after awhile, especially when you’ve had occasion to read dozens and dozens of them written over a period of several centuries.

However, our understanding of that mission, along with our ability to adapt that understanding in fresh ways to meet the demands of different contexts and circumstances, changes almost constantly. When I first graduated from Divinity School, for example, I had an understanding of the mission of the church that was based on the writings of the 19th century German Sociologist of Religion Ernest Troeslsch, as subsequently interpreted by Harvard Professor and Unitarian Social Ethicist James Luther Adams. I believed that the church was a human scale voluntary association, in which we intentionally attempt to create a “beloved community” and a sanctuary from the pressures of day-to-day living, so that individuals might come together and connect with one another in a more profound way, centering ourselves both emotionally and psychologically as we devote our attention to exploring more deeply our own spiritual lives, and pursuing that “free and responsible search for truth and meaning” we hear so much about; and then return to our daily lives possessing both the wisdom and the inspiration to transform the world around us for the better.

I still tend to see the mission of the church this way, but over the years I’ve also become a lot more pragmatic about it. As some of you may have noticed who have glanced at my packet (or perhaps even visited the website of the congregation I’m currently serving), for some years now I’ve been suggesting that the mission of the church can basically be boiled down to five core tasks: Worship, Education, Fellowship, Community Outreach, and Pastoral Care -- purposes which I just recently realized I probably “borrowed” at some point long ago in my career from ideas contained in the now-famous bestselling author and mega-church pastor Rick Warren’s earlier (and more obscure) book The Purpose-Driven Church, and then adapted to better fit an explicitly Unitarian Universalist context. And having realized this, I have also now decided that there are actually SEVEN core purposes: which is to say that two of these tasks are complicated enough that they might easily be subdivided.

Conducting Public Worship is clearly one very obvious and visible mission of the church. There are lots of different theologies of worship, but in my theology Worship is a time when we recreate through ritual the fundamental, life-transforming experience of the church as a whole. We come together at a designated hour in a sacred space -- a space we MAKE sacred by our presence in it -- in order to be together with one another in community, to celebrate the gift of life itself and to express our gratitude for it, and to devote ourselves to a period of learning, introspection, and self-discovery, so that we might return to the world wiser and inspired to make it a better place.

The mission of Education is equally obvious. Church is a place where we learn how to become authentic people of faith, along with many of the other things we need to know in order to live good and decent lives. I hope this doesn’t come as a revelation to anyone, but not all education takes place in a classroom. Someone once even told me that the only difference between life and school is that life gives us the test first, and then teaches the lesson afterwards. Traditional religious language, including that of our Unitarian and Universalist forbearers, once told us that all human beings are created in the image of God, and born with immortal souls which seek to become “at one” again with their creator. Church is the place where we come to figure out what in the world that may mean, and how we might develop our full potential as both spiritual beings and people of faith.

And Pastoral Care is perhaps the mission we intuitively think of first when we ask ourselves the question “what do churches do?” What do Churches Do? They care for people in times of grief, and illness, and spiritual crisis. The metaphor of the Pastor as a Shepherd tending and herding a flock of sheep or goats or (in our day) cats is one of our most venerable images of the work of ministry, and remains a powerful one, even for those of us whose practical knowledge of sheep-herding comes only from books or maybe a movie or two, and the childhood reminiscences of our grandparents.

But it’s the tasks of Fellowship and Outreach that are intimately more complicated than first meets the eye. The term “fellowship” is often understood as a synonym for community itself, that experience of what the Greek New Testament calls koinania or “life in common,” the experience of truly being members of the family of God, and thus brothers and sisters to one another. In it’s most extreme form, it’s the experience described in Acts 4:32, where “All the believers were one in heart and mind, and no one claimed that any of their possessions were their own, but they shared everything they had.” In short, a form of faith-based socialism.

But there is another aspect of fellowship which I have come to think of as the Ministry of Hospitality, the mission of actively welcoming strangers into our community as our guests. Without an active mission of Hospitality, the experience of Fellowship quickly becomes closed and insular, more like a club than a real church. This is why the Scripture also cautions us “Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” (Hebrews 13: 2) The same “brotherly love” which we would naturally express to members of our own family should in turn be extended to all God’s children, since we can never be certain what important message these sojourners may be bringing to us. Pilgrims require hospitality in order to safely complete their pilgrimages. And likewise, those who offer hospitality to pilgrims receive the gift of their wisdom, and inspiration.

And the same is also true of the Mission of Outreach. Like a lot of religious liberals, I tend to think of Outreach principally in terms of Social Action -- that ultimate expression of our spirituality by which we attempt to change the world and make it better. But this is only half the story. We also have a mission to proclaim our “Good News,” to participate in a little old-fashioned Evangelism as we share our message of “salvation” with others. In other words, we witness our faith not only through our good works, but also through our willingness to actively invite others into partnership with us. And by partnership I mean FULL partnership -- not just some sort of “associate” status where we still make all the important decisions, while expecting someone else to take over all the hard work itself.

So, Worship, Education, Community, Hospitality, Social Action, Evangelism, and Pastoral Care. This is the mission of the church as I see and understand it now. But if it all still sounds like an awful lot to swallow at one sitting, I can also sum it up in a single sentence -- or perhaps I should say, someone here at First Parish has already summed it up for us. The Mission of the Church is to create, or to provide, or perhaps simply just to be, “A Warm and Welcoming Place in the Heart of the City.”

I always smile a little when I hear that phrase “a warm welcome,” because I know that in the 19th century those exact same words were sometimes used ironically to describe the experience of being greeted by gunfire. But obviously that’s not what I have in mind today. Rather, it seems to me that this image of “a warm, welcoming place in the heart of the city” eloquently describes everything else we’ve been talking about today. A sanctuary where we congregate together to discover how to truly BE in a better place than we often find outside these doors. A place where it doesn’t matter what you look like, or how much money you have, or where your parents came from, or who you love, or whether or not you actually believe all the things the people on TV say you need to believe. And when we can do this single thing well, we BECOME the heart (or perhaps I should say the Soul) of the city around us. And the city itself becomes a better place for everyone, because of our presence here....

Location, Location, Location....

Since when did a ghetto become a "gated community?" Just heard a report on NPR's Morning Edition about a 12 foot high concrete wall that the US military is constructing around a Sunni enclave in Baghdad. And something snapped in my brain...like the last straw that broke the camel's back. Just like that. We've lost this war in Iraq...actually lost it years ago, on the day that looters ransacked the National Museum of Antiquities, but if attempting to wall in an entire ethnic/religious neighborhood in a futile effort to control the insurgency doesn't somehow represent a "tipping point..." well, to quote Mr. Lincoln "I tremble for my country when I remember that God is just."

I've never been a supporter of this war. Felt right from the get-go that it was a bad idea, both strategically and on general principles. Suspected even before the shooting started that all this talk about WMDs was simply a smoke screen to justify pursuing Dubya's personal vendetta against Saddam. But like any patriotic American, once our soldiers were in harm's way I wanted to support them as best I could, even if I didn't agree with the mission they'd been asked to perform. And I also felt the moral obligation of Colin Powell's "Pottery Barn rule" -- that once we'd broken it we were responsible for fixing it.

But this is just too much. After Gitmo and Abu Ghraib. After legalized torture (which we're told isn't really torture) and the creation of "special military tribunals" beyond the jurisdiction of normal judicial review. After the Patriot Act, and Blackwater, and...it's just too much... We can't win the War on Terror by becoming more terrible than the terrorists. It's a losing proposition, no matter which way you look at it. And more to the point, it's EXACTLY what bin Laden and his cronies have been counting on all along. We'd be better off simply stashing Bush at the bottom of a "hidey hole" in Baghdad, armed with Saddam's captured pistol and a big bag of cash. Or sending Dick Cheney and his shotgun to Afghanistan.

Our current strategy for defeating "terrorism of global reach" is failing. Has failed. We need to come up with a better plan, and quickly. Not to mention better leaders to carry it out....

Is There Any Future to a Virtual Church?

I've been a bit remiss about posting here regularly, mostly because my life has suddenly gotten a lot busier now that I'm getting ready to be the Candidate in Portland, and it will probably stay busy for awhile longer still. But in her blog "Faith and Web", Anne Belle asks "How long will Analog Churches Survive the Digital Age?" Here's the comment I posted there, now slightly revised and cross-posted here.

Historically, Churches have been rivaled only by pornographers among the "early adapters" of new communications technologies, going right back to the days of the printing press and movable type. But the Essential Experience of Religion (like that of its rival) remains essentially unchanged. In my own era I've seen the mimeograph replaced by the high speed photocopier, and electric typewriters (and white out) erased by the personal computer, which likewise transformed "Rolodex" from a brand into a metaphor, and replaced all those morning finger-walks through the Yellow Pages with "Googling." Activities like podcasting, and sites like You Tube, My Space, and Second Life may well represent the new frontier in this colonization of cyberspace, but Church itself is still ultimately all about worship, fellowship, education, social action and pastoral care. It's a face-to-face, real-time experience of community, a "congregation" of souls, gathered together at a specific place and time, to seek wisdom and inspiration, to ask the assistance of powers larger than ourseleves, and express our gratitude for the many blessings we have received. And it has been from time immemorial. THAT part never changes. Nor should it....

It's Now Official!

Last week I was delighted to learn that both the Search Committee and the Governing Board had officially designated me as the Candidate for the open pulpit at the First Parish in Portland Maine. Monday night I notified the Parish Committee here in Carlisle of my decision to accept that invitation, and this morning we formally shared the news with the entire congregation.

Naturally, I am very excited about this next chapter in my eclectic ministerial career. Portland is a magnificant small city, and I am so looking forward to once more living within sight, sound and smell of the ocean...despite its reputation, Walden Pond simply wasn't getting it done for me. Judging at least from the number of applicants, First Parish was the most sought-after pulpit in the denomination this past year, which leaves me feeling both honored to have been selected in preference to so many other wise and talented colleagues, and also humbled by the demanding challenges and expectations I know await me there.

I also feel a little sad about leaving my ministry in Carlisle, just as I felt like my efforts here were finally beginning to bear fruit. I'm particularly disappointed that I will not be around to celebrate this congregation's 250th anniversary next summer, or to help explore and implement the many exciting new inititives we identified at our all-church "Visioning" retreat last February. I was also looking forward to a five month sabbatical in the spring of 2009, and there were even rumours of an impending kitchen remodel at the parsonage. It's hard to walk away from all that, even to move on to something that feels even better.

The lives and work of parish ministers are often wrapped in moments of transition. The transition from single individual to couple represented by a wedding, or from couple to family when a child is dedicated. And, of course, the ultimate transition from life to death. Every year more new people join the congregation, while others step back, or move on to other places, other priorities. Like the communities we serve, ministry is ultimately little more than a network of constantly evolving relationships: a long series of joyful hellos and sad goodbyes, each one a small birth, or a little death. This transition is no different. It just seems a little more intense, because it means saying so many goodbyes all at once.

There are lots of things I am going to miss about Carlisle, just as I have missed some things about every congregation I have ever served. Mostly, though, I’m going to miss the many friends I have made in this community, and our vision of the revitalized church I believe we would have created together had we simply continued to dream big dreams and to embrace our shared sense of mission, then rolled up our sleeves and done the good, hard work of generous hospitality and selfless service I’ve seen so often here. Yet I also know that if these dreams are indeed destined to become true, they truly need to be THEIR dreams, and that they are perfectly capable of achieving them without me.

I feel very fortunate to have had the opportunity to spend the past four years serving as the minister here at FRS -- longer than my "restless soul" has ever allowed me to settle anywhere else before. And I hope in the few months I have remaining in this role, to be able to take the time to celebrate the important and necessary work we have undertaken together during my tenure here, and to say our fond farewells before diverging on the separate paths before us.

Sorry for ranting....

I'm sorry, but something snapped while I was listening to the news this morning, and now my brain feels like it's about to explode from incredulity. Key figures in the Bush administration are suspected of orchestrating the firing of eight US attorneys because of their refusal to get with the program, stop investigating so many Republicans, and start investigating more Democrats; and now, when the Chair of the Senate Judiciary Committee wants some of the principal figures involved in this scandal to testify publically under oath about their knowledge of this whole sorry situation, he is accused of initiating a "partisan fishing expedition."

I'm sorry, but the hypocrisy and disengenuousness of that statement are staggering. Mind-blowing. I'm left practically speechless from outrage. And yes, I understand the importance of attorney/client privilege, and how essential it is for the President to be able to receive candid and confidential advice from his advisors, and all the rest. But isn't this the same administration which has already attempted to cut the heart out of attorney/client privilege as part of its so-called "War on Terror," by denying "enemy detainees" both habeus corpus and the right to counsel, even to the extent of investigating (and prosecutiong) attorneys who represent accused terrorists, and pressuring corporate cronies to stop doing business with law firms who provide pro bono legal services to individuals who the Bushies believe don't even deserve a fair trial?

Of course, I suppose Congress could always consider the option of hiring some "independent military contractors" to kidnap the "honorable public servents" in question, and deliver them to some secret undisclosed off-shore location where they could be waterboarded and in other ways "not tortured" until they reveal everything they know. But oops, I almost forgot...those Blackwater guys all seem to work for (and vote for, and contribute vast amounts of money to) the Republicans too. So I guess that won't work. Even though Attorney General Alberto Gonzales assures us it is all perfectly legal.

And I'm so, so sorry to be witnessing this whole sad, sicknening chapter in the history of our Democratic Republic....

So terribly, terribly sorry....

My 15 Seconds of Fame

OK, it finally happened -- the "NIghtline" segment on "Beauty Tips for Ministers" aired last night, and everyone in the country who was still up at that hour (and cared) got to hear how my good friend PeaceBang literally ripped my "holey" clothes off my back...and not in a good way! And I sure hope it's true what they say about the camera adding 15 pounds, because if it's not I definitely need to push myself away from the table and start making it back in to the gym every day.

In any event, it was fun to do, I'm glad it's over, and I sure hope everyone has the good sense not to judge PB's style savvy by what I typically wear to work. She's a fashion goddess. And I'm just an (occasionally) well-dressed extra...


a more typical day at the office....

Spiritual but not Religious

Recently there's been a thread on this topic on the UUMA-chat. Here's my contribution to the conversation, expanded and slightly modified for this forum (to which I have been terribly undisciplined about contributing).

Whenever I address this topic, I like to point out that the word Spirit in the Greek New Testament is pneuma, which can also be translated as "breath" or "wind," while the root of the word Religious is ligare which means "to bind" (as in ligament or obligation). Thus Religion is sometimes defined as "that which binds us back/binds us again to God" (or whatever passes for God in your theology: Creation/the Ground of Being/the Interdependent Web of All Existence/Matters of Ultimate Concern); while Spirituality might be said to refer to "that aspect of our experience which can be felt but not seen, which is as ubiquitous as air, and as intimate and essential to our own existence and well-being as breathing itself." Given these two definitions, it seems to me that people who claim to be "Spiritual, but not Religious" are simply folks who don't want to feel "tied down" or "held back" by the traditional rules, rituals, and discipline of "organized" religion, but who still wish to be in touch with that Higher Mystery which gives us life and gives life meaning, and refuses to be "bound" by our attempts to rationalize and codify it. That's not so complicated, is it?

I think the tricky part for those of us who like to think of ourselves as both Religious AND Spiritual leaders is to be able to show our people that religion does indeed have a place in our spiritual lives, because we NEED tradition, ritual, discipline, and covenantal relationships mutual obligation and accountability just as much as we do regular inspiration in order to live truly meaningful and fulfilling lives. Without the sense of "discipleship" provided by routine religious devotion, "spirituality" is often just a lot of hot air. Just my two cents worth, from someone who really does know what he's talking about, and who speaks from personal experience....

March Fo(u)rth

So someone mentioned in church this morning that today is the only day of the year that is also a command. Clever. Funny. OK, and just a little stupid. But I can't help but be reminded of that old wordplay about Independence Day: Those who go forth with a fifth on the fourth, rarely go forth on the fifth....

Valentine's Day Snowstorm

The thing about snow is that so often it comes quietly in the night. They may say that it's coming on the news, but I never quite believe it; then I open my eyes the next morning, and the world outside my window is a white, frigid, silent wasteland. Often if I sleep a little late the first clue I have that it has snowed at all is the sound of the snowplow clearing the street in front of my house. (I live just across the street from the town's elementary school, so my street is typically one of the first to be plowed...unless, of course, the snow has caused school to be canceled all together). Snow is great...on the first day. Until you have to go out in it. Until you have to shovel it. Until it starts to melt, and turns to slush and mud.

I grew up in a land of perpetual rain. I love the sound of raindrops against my roof and windows; they're such a tangible, audible reminder that even though Baby it's cold outside, I'm safe and dry indoors. The perils of rain are familiar ones (at least for me): sure, sometimes the roads are slick, sometimes you get water places you don't want it, sometimes (and yes, this has actually happened to me), a tree whose roots have grown loose in the rainsoaked soil blows over and falls on a corner of your house. A rainstorm can be LOUD, especially when accompanied by thunder and lightening; and when the wind gets roaring in behind it, it can literally shriek in intensity. Snowstorms such pussycats in comparison. Snowflakes just keep on piling up and piling up, until finally they stop accumulating and you walk out into it to see for yourself just how much there really is.

I suppose if I had grown up differently, I might feel just the opposite. I might fear earthquakes instead hurricanes, and better appreciate the freshness and purity of the newly-fallen snow. It's not that I'm insensitive to charms of winter in New England -- those Currier and Ives, snowdome landscapes which trick you into thinking that you are living in simpler times, when people really did travel over the river and through the woods in a one-horse open sleigh. And at the end of the day, when you have a fire going on the hearth and a mug of hot tea, a good book to read or the right person to snuggle with, I guess it really doesn't matter what the weather is. And I suppose that when the power goes out and you are left alone in the cold and the dark... well, that's pretty much the same deal too. So here's hoping that today finds you warm and dry and and snug and cozy, instead of cold and wet and shivering in the dark. No matter what the weather is where you live....

Not Ready to Make Nice

OK, I'll confess -- I pay even less attention to the Grammys than I do to the Oscars. But I also have to admit, it's kinda nice to see the Chicks from Texas do so well. Good On Ya Girls! The spirit of Ann Richards and Molly Ivins sings out strong. And you can dance to it....

Coffee Wisdom

Watching a member of the Coffee Committee prepare the communal pot for Sunday morning, I noticed the formula was very simple: one full urn of cold water, and one full bag of Organic, Fairly Traded Equal Exchange coffee. I asked him about it, and his response got me thinking. "You can always water down strong coffee, but weak coffee is a lost cause right from the start."

Lotsa wisdom there. Think about it.

Evangelical is NOT a four letter word....

I just received an e-mail from our District Administrator recruiting for the "Mystery Worshiper" program, and it immediately brought back a flood of memories from the days when I worked as a retail bookseller for the Barnes & Noble corporation, and my store was shopped quarterly by "Secret Shoppers" who evaluated our customer service according to a standard checklist of criteria generated by B & N's corporate customer service experts in New York. I remember the criteria very well, because I worked very hard to train my staff to follow them, and thus my store routinely received a perfect score. Greet the Customer personally as they enter the store, and ask them if they are looking for anything in particular. Take them to the section, put the book in their hand, and offer them an opportunity to purchase our discount card as you ring the transaction. I can remember THAT pitch practically word for word: "Are you a member of our Booksavers Club? Barnes & Noble offers a discount card which saves you 10% on everything you buy. It's good for a year; it costs $10 to sign up, and today it would save you $_____, which means that the actual cost of the card is only $_____. Do you think you'll be buying another $_____ worth of books in the next twelve months?" A little quick arithmetic produced a yes or no answer, and either sold the card or didn't. But I personally had the best card sale to transaction ratio in our entire district.

I've often wondered why our churches can't do as good a job of greeting people as your typical retail bookstore or restaurant. It's just a matter of common courtesy; it's not as if we're "selling" anything. Churches basically do three simple things for newcomers: we offer them hospitality; we provide them with certain services (including, of course, our Worship Service); we invite them into an authentic relationship, through which they gain the opportunity to become our partners in "doing unto others as we would have others do unto us." What's so terrible and scary about any of this? Why can't we show as much enthusiasm for what WE have to offer as our "server" does for the daily specials, or a bookseller for the latest Oprah-endorsed diet book?

An evangelist is merely a bearer of Good News. And if we aren't willing to share our good news with others, what's the point? It's not as if we have to be obnoxious about it. Hospitality. Service. Relationship. It's really just that simple. And it all begins by greeting people as they enter the door, and asking what brought them here today....

Some Days I Feel Too Dumb For Words....

I relearned kind of an important lesson yesterday about communication, which is that if you want to make certain that people understand what you mean, you'd better first be sure that they know what you're talking about.

Next Saturday our congregation will be holding a six hour All-Church "Visioning Event," focused on the theme of "Bring Your Passion, Create a Plan." The event will be facilitated by our District Executive, who will be using a format called "Open Space Technology" which (as I understand it) begins by creating a "Marketplace of Ideas" where people come to "pitch" their idea, and then are assigned a time and a place where others can come to help them develop their notion into a full-blown plan.

So yesterday, as part of the publicity for this event, I stood up in church and described MY idea -- which is to give a knit stocking cap with an embroidered image of the Meetinghouse on it to every kid in our Sunday School. (I'd also like to get ball caps on the heads of all the grown-ups too, but I'm starting with the kids because they appreciate it so much more). I was even wearing one of the hats at the time, but what I didn't understand is that people couldn't really see the embroidered image, so they were also a little confused about what in the world I was so excited about.

Eventually someone brought this to my attention, so I was able to walk through the Sanctuary and give everyone there a good look at the top of my head, and thus figure out what was actually on my mind. And I was reminded once again that just because something is right before our eyes, it doesn't mean that everyone else sees it too. As painful as it may seem, it never really hurts to point out the obvious. It's better to be thought too dumb for words, than to let your own silence contribute to mutual misunderstanding....

Another Episode of "God, Inc"

These continue to just crack me up. IMHO Episode Five is the best one yet. In the meantime, let's all pray to the primordial enchantress for a divine spell to encourage converts....

www.youtube.com/profile?user=francisstokesdotcom

Here's another fine mess you've gotten us into....

OK, maybe this isn't that funny outside of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. But it's got me rolling down both sides of the aisle....

Creatures of Habit

My little dog Parker (generally known around here as "Theadorable Parker") is very much a creature of habit. Especially first thing in the morning, there are certain rituals and routines which MUST be observed -- when she gets up, when she goes out, where she goes, how long she stays, what she expects to find waiting for her in the way of treats and breakfast when she gets back. Deviate from this drill even in the slightest, and she's sure to let you know about it. Loudly.

Of course, like most dogs, Parker is also a very effective "single instance learner," which means that it is also possible for the routine to change dramatically based on experience. For example, a few months ago her vet prescribed a round of antibiotics for Lymes. The first day we wrestled in the kitchen for about 10 minutes before that pill went down, and the next morning when she came in from doing her morning business she ran straight upstairs and hid under my desk rather than coming into the kitchen for another before-breakfast wrestling match. So I started crushing the pills and mixing them in with her food; now the new ritual is when I come back upstairs with my coffee, she goes back downstairs to eat her breakfast...and to take her medicine without knowing even knowing it.

They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, but I know for a fact this isn't true. The tricky part is teaching them the tricks you want them to know, rather than the other way around. To teach a dog you need to learn to think like a dog, and to shape and motivate their behavior in ways that make sense to THEM. Dogs are very clever animals. But like any other animal, they relate best to a changing world on their own, familiar terms.

What does all of this have to do with anything about ministry, you ask? Good question. Some years ago church consultant Lyle Schaller developed a clever way of describing congregations of different sizes as "Cats," "Collies," "Gardens" and "Ranches." Gardens and Ranches are both organizations of organisms, rather than organisms in their own right, and need to be understood in that context. Cats are small and independent creatures; they like to be fed, petted and admired, but apart from that pretty much prefer to be left alone. Collies, on the other hand, (standing for the Pastoral-sized congregation of approximately 100 households, give or take), love to be loved, trained, exercised and praised by the leader of the pack, to whom they look for both nourishment and direction.

Collies are eager to please; but without proper training, they can also become quite rambunctious and unruly. And even more than cats (who tend to act by instinct), they are very much creatures of habit, who can often become quite set in their ways, especially as the result of a single bad experience. A well-trained collie will sit, stay, heel, fetch, follow you anywhere without a leash, and go for help when you fall down a well. But an untrained collie is a danger to itself and others -- a critter who chases cats up trees and digs up budding gardens without a second thought, and then comes home wagging its tail and looking for rewards and approval. And the problem is not the dog. The problem is the lack of training.

Moving away from the metaphor for a moment, the Pastoral-sized church is under a lot of pressure these days. Not only is it the most labor-intensive type of church for clergy to serve, but the financial realities of modern American society are also making it increasingly difficult for a congregation of 100 households to employ a full-time, seminary-educated pastor at a living wage. Seminary students who learned their trade in the ranches and gardens of "teaching" congregations can usually (after a few scratched fingers) figure out how to feed a cat, but learning how to train a dog (especially an old dog) to perform at the same level of excellence as a rancher's border collie is often beyond them, and thus merely a futile exercise in mutual frustration. It's one thing to bark out a few commands and watch dogs trained by others herd the errant sheep back into the fold. It's quite another to be able to train a dog to do that by yourself, and not be bitten a few times in the process. The key to successfully training a dog is to earn their love AND their respect, their loyalty AND their obedience, and to direct their natural desire to feel comfortable knowing their familiar place in the pack in such a way that pleasing you pleases them.

So (returning once more to matters of ministry) how do we learn to do this? How the hell should I know? I'm a historian, not the Dog Whisperer. But I do know this. Many of the people attending our churches these days did not grow up in one, and lack much of the old-fashioned cultural familiarity with "the ways of church" that their parents and grandparents took for granted. And the same is also true of many of our clergy. Instead, we come to our participation in church with all sorts of norms and expectations formed in other places -- work, school, the "school of hard knocks" -- which may or may not be appropriate to an ecclesiastical context. Exaggerated clerical expectations of professional privilege and entitlement run head-long into the customer service expectations of 'consumer religion," where the desire for "free, perfect and now" is only fueled by a broader societal reality of "the best quality available, wholesale and overnight." We can talk and talk until we are blue in the face about "mission" and "covenant" and "a culture of generosity," but for most folks a contract is a contract, and they want what they want at the least possible cost. After all, we are all creatures of habit. Why should Sunday be any different than any other day of the week?....

Out of the Mouths of Babes

"It's a blessing we were born,
and it matters what we do,
What we know about god
is a piece of the truth,
Let the beauty we love
be what we do,
And we don't have to do it alone."

These are the lyrics to a song written for “Chalice Camp,” a Unitarian Universalist summer day camp created by Laila Ibrahim and the Reverend Sheri Prud'homme for six to twelve year-olds in California’s Pacific Central District. I learned about Chalice Camp from Jory Agate at our last Mass Bay District UUMA meeting, and was delighted by how well these simple words written for children expressed the lessons I've been trying to teach to grown-ups for the last quarter-century.

Laila and Sheri are both members of the First Unitarian Church in Oakland, and Sheri is also an associate faculty member at the Starr King School for the Ministry in Berkeley. Chalice Camp was developed around a philosophy of using accessible theological language to help our youngsters become better able to understand and articulate their connection to our larger faith tradition in a environment that was fun, utilized “multiple learning modes,” and which offered the kids an opportunity “to have deep and lasting connections with each other.” Yet often “out of the mouths of babes” come important insights worthy for us all.

“It’s a blessing we were born...” None of us actually asked to be born, and none of us really deserve to be here either. Yet through grace, luck, or perhaps simply an accident of nature, here we are, and now it’s up to us to make something of ourselves. The gift of life is literally a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, as well as a blessing -- not only for ourselves, but for all those whose lives we touch in a positive and meaningful way.

“It matters what we do...” The things we choose to do with our lives are important, and again not only for ourselves. In a very real sense, we are a part of the Universe which can think, and feel, and then act in ways that either make the world better or make it worse. Our decisions have consequences, which often last well beyond our own lifetimes.

“What we know about god is a piece of the truth...” Let’s face facts. Nobody knows ALL the answers. But each of us, if we try, can at least cultivate a little insight into our own lives, and perhaps a little empathy for the experiences of others. Simply learning to be slow to judge and quick to forgive can do wonders for improving the quality of our relationships with one another, and eventually lead us all to a deeper understanding of the bigger picture.

“Let the beauty we love be what we do...” Listen to your passion. Follow your bliss. How many times have you heard that in your life? So what are you waiting for?

“...and we don’t have to do it alone.” The blessings of family, friendship, community and society itself all provide deeper meaning and a broader context to the blessing of our own existence. Once again, none of us have perfect relationships, and often times many of our most significant relationships can be quite difficult and troubling. But even so, we don’t have to do it alone. With over six and a half billion people on the planet, it would be hard to do so even if we wanted to.

Take these simple thoughts to heart, and let them guide your lives. Just because profound ideas can be printed on the back of tee-shirts or sung aloud by children doesn’t make them any less profound.

Thick Hide, Thicker Head...

Thank God I was watching the Patriots defeat the Chargers (and then the Ducks defeat the Wildcats), so I blissfully missed having to watch the President moviing his lips last night on "60 Minutes." But for what it's worth, I think someone needs to explaino to our fearless leader that this war is not a football game, and that his half-time pep-talk rhetoric is starting to sound a little stale.

I understand that the President has gotten our nation into a tough spot in Iraq. Like his father, I understood it before it even started, and said so out loud at the time. But lets face facts, this time the Supreme Court isn't able to give him a "do over." And more of the same is only going to dig us deeper and deeper into the same old hole.

Abu Ghraib was a mistake. "Bring it On" was a mistake. Great. I'm supposed to feel REASSURED because the President finally understands this? This whole war was a mistake; this whole Presidency has been one long mistake -- and just so there's no misunderstanding on this point, Mr Bush is not going to be able to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat in Iraq with a long, Hail Mary pass or a last-second field goal.

Rather, he somehow needs to understand that he's been playing bin Laden's game from the moment he decided that this was a "War on Terror," and that the path to "victory" was to "get tough" and fight fire with fire.

Mr President, if Karl Rove taught you nothing, he should have at least helped you see that you can't win a pissing match with a skunk. You will never defeat Al Queda on their own terms, because they will ALWAYS be willing to go one step further than we are.

And the mistake is not refusing to take the next step.

The mistake was taking the first one....

God, Inc.

So, is this what we have to look forward to in the afterlife?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b2f4heaG288

New Leaves

The beginning of a New Year is a traditional time for turning over a new leaf. And somewhere on the list of most popular New Years Resolutions, well below losing weight, getting in shape, quitting smoking and being more responsible about money, you’ll find “Attend Church More Frequently.”

There are all sorts of good reasons for NOT attending church. It feels good to sleep late on Sunday morning, to linger over coffee with the Sunday paper, or just to spend a little more time at home with the family. And besides, who needs to sing hymns or listen to a sermon when you can always feel inspired by reading poetry, or taking a long walk through the woods?

But notwithstanding all of these excellent excuses, here are five good reasons for attending church more regularly BESIDES listening to a sermon...

1) It’s a great opportunity to catch up with your friends. Sure, there’s always the transfer station. But how much time do you really want to spend socializing with your “neighbors and fellow creatures” while sorting through your garbage? Church is warm, dry, and out of the weather. Plus it smells better....

2) It’s a great opportunity to let your friends catch up with you. Authentic Community is a two-way street. It’s about mutual give and take. To have a friend you need to be a friend, and do unto others as you would have others do unto you. What better place to practice these important principles, if not at church?

3) It sets a good example for your children. And your spouse. Church is traditionally one of civilization’s most family-friendly activities. Don’t let coming to church compete with quality family time. MAKE it quality family time!

4) There’s free food. OK, maybe if losing weight is also one of your New Year’s Resolutions, this isn’t the most persuasive reason for attending church. But for what it’s worth, there’s free food.

5) It is a perfect, unquestionably socially-acceptable excuse for spending a little quality time “alone in the company of the solitude of your own thought.” Just because someone is preaching a sermon doesn’t mean you actually have to listen. Some of the most inspiring worship services I have ever attended were in churches where I couldn’t even understand the language of the sermon, much less the message. Daydreaming in church is not only acceptable, it is a time-honored tradition both universally tolerated and widely encouraged (provided, of course, that you don’t draw too much attention to the fact by disturbing the other daydreamers).

Most folks come to church already knowing the sermon they need to hear that day. Being in church simply gives you a chance to listen to the wisdom of your own thoughts. You can always go back and read the text of my sermon on-line later if you’re so inclined. That's why I post them on the website. There are lots of churches where I doubt anyone would attend regularly if they actually paid close attention to what the preacher was saying. Why should a UU church be any different?

In her novel The Color Purple, Alice Walker has one of her characters say: “Be honest, have you ever found God in church? I haven’t. I have only found a bunch of people hoping He would show himself to them. The only God I have ever felt in church I had brought along myself. I think other people do the same. The come to church to share God, not to find Him....”

I’ll confess, as a preacher I like it when you come to church. When you’re not there on Sunday morning, I miss you. And so does everyone else. It’s really just as simple as that. Most of the time I’m too shy (or too polite) to call you up and ask you where you’ve been. And I certainly don’t mean to embarrass anyone, or put you on the spot. But don’t kid yourself. When you aren’t in your seat on Sunday morning, people notice. And we’re sad....

So do yourself and all your friends a favor, and resolve to come to church more regularly in 2007. You’ll be happier for it. And so will all of us. You can read poetry or walk in the woods any old time. But Sunday Morning only happens once a week.

See you in church.....

Another Tragic Misjudgment in Iraq

Personally, I couldn't have cared less whether Saddam lived or died. He was an evil man, a tyrant, a bully, a bad guy, and no doubt deserved whatever he had coming. But from a policy perspective, this semi-private hanging was a big mistake. The US is ultimately going to be seen as the responsible party, no matter which way it gets spun -- and the "due process" question cuts both ways. Giving Saddam's crimes a FULL and exhaustive public hearing may have seemed like a tedious waste of time for some, but it would have been much better than the odor of show trial and summary execution which will linger over this hanging for a long, long time.

In the meantime, I just can't get out of my own mind contrasting the grainy internet images of masked executioners leading Saddam to the gallows (not to mention his broken body after the hanging) and the ubiquitous CSPAN feed of the preparations for Gerald Ford's celebratory State Funeral. I long ago forgave Mr Ford for pardoning Mr Nixon, even as I recognize that in many ways we are still living with the hangover of that "long national nightmare" today. In many ways, the Saddam execution is simply one more piece of THAT bitter lingering post-Vietnam legacy, another taste of Dr Kissinger realpolitik coming home to roost.

If democracy truly is on the march in the Middle East, I think somebody better double-check its moral compass to make certain it is moving in the right direction. Because from where I sit, it looks like something very different indeed.

"An Earth Made Fair, and All Her People One"

Three Christmas Eve services last night, each of them special, each of them unique. 67 souls at the 3 pm "family" service. Used all child readers, and mostly child musicians, as well as recognizing infants born in the past year in a special ceremony where we read their names and ring a small triangle. It's what I think of as the "wiggly" service, and I'm trying to figure out ways to make it a little more engaging for kids who have "ants in their pants" and have trouble sitting still for long periods of time without squirming...having been such a child myself, and still remembering what it was like. Getting rid of the homily would probably be a good first step.

195+ at the "Main Event" at 5 pm: a half-hour prelude concert, followed by a traditional Christmas service of Carols and Scripture readings. I continue to be amazed by the abundance of musical talent in this relatively small (100 households) congregation, and how effectively my music director brings them all together to perform regularly throughout the year. But Christmas Eve is especially special. May have delegated just a little too much on my end of the Sanctuary - one of my lay readers was MIA, and no one had recruited either candlelighters or ushers. But we just picked up the slack and soldiered through. Preached the same homily I had at 3 o'clock and nobody squirmed at all...or at least not that I could notice. Lot's of "once-a-year'ers" at this service, so I want to give them a good experience and not scare them off -- neither too scholarly nor too sentimental, but just enough of each that they get a flavor for what we do the rest of the year.

20 hardy souls at the 11 pm Candlelight service. Had planned to share leadership of this service with our affiliated community minister, but she e-mailed in sick earlier this week after hurting her back...I didn't ask how. So I literally pressed into service one of my "stalwart" families at the 11th hour to help me with the Scripture readings. This is the service I'm least happy with, mostly because it is my favorite. So next year I think I may move it up an hour, make it even MORE simple, and see whether I can boost attendence a little.

In years past I haven't really preached on Christmas Eve, prefering instead to read things like Robert Fulghum's "Treated to Christmas" or (at the late service) Lawrence Ferlinghetti's "Christ Climbed Down." But last year people complained that I was missing an opportunity, and so this year I wrote something of my own. But what I discovered is that the same homily doesn't really work for all three services, so next year I may try to do something much more child-friendly at 3 pm, preach a traditional homily at 5, and then perhaps speak extemporaneously that the Candlelight service and see how that goes.

Just in case anyone is interested, here is the text of this year's Christmas Eve homily.


CHRISTMAS EVE, 2006

“And being warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed into their own country by another way.” [Mt 2:12]

I don’t know whether anyone else is really bothered by this or not, but how wise would we consider someone today who took-off on a months-long journey to a foreign land inspired by something they read in their horoscope, simply so they might shower an unknown child with expensive gifts, and then just randomly changed their return itinerary because one night they had bad dream? And yet this is precisely what Matthew tells us the Wise Men did at the birth of Jesus, when they saw his star in the East.

I imagine as for a lot of folks nowadays, my first exposure to the story of the Nativity came from basically secular sources: from things like “A Charlie Brown Christmas,” or the Christmas Songs I learned in school, and Christmas Stories read to me by my grandparents. And of course, from experiences like our own annual Christmas Pageant, where as a child I also acted out as children have for generations the story of the miraculous birth of the baby Jesus. And somehow from all these experiences, I came to the conclusion that the whole thing happened in a single evening: Joseph and Mary arrived in Bethlehem and discovered there was no room at the inn, found alternative lodgings in a stable, gave birth to a child, wrapped him in swaddling clothes and lay him in a manger, and then the angels and the shepherds and the Kings all arrived in turn, everyone sang “Silent Night,” and they all went home again.

But in reality, if it happened at all, it probably happened quite differently than this. The traditional “pageant version” of the Nativity actually combines two distinct (and in some ways contradictory) versions of the story found in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke. Luke, as we heard, tells a tale of shepherds and angels and a manger; of a family traveling far from home and giving birth to a child under unusual circumstances; and then links all this to a Roman census which we think took place in the year 6 AD. Matthew, on the other hand, tells a story of astrologers visiting from the East in search of a child whose birth was foretold by the stars, sometime during the reign of Herod the Great -- who died in the year 4 BC. So there’s a ten-year difference of opinion right there...or maybe it was just an unusually long labor.

Even the time of year is a matter of some dispute. Shepherds typically keep watch over their flocks by night in the spring and early summer, which caused at least some early Church Fathers to place the date of Jesus’s birth sometime in late March or early April. The reason we celebrate Christmas in December is quite clearly an attempt to tie it to the symbolism of the winter solstice, a result of the Emperor Constantine’s fourth century accommodation with the pagan mystery religion of Mithraism, which also celebrated the birth of their deity, the Sun god Mithra, in this darkest time of the year.

But the visitation of the Magi is without doubt the most mysterious part of the story. Who were they, and why were they there, if indeed they were there at all? And what was this star that they saw in the East, which caused them to travel to Bethlehem? The word “Magi” is derived from a Persian word identifying a specific caste of Zoroastrian priests, and is more typically translated as “sorcerer” or “magician.” Tradition tells us that there were three, because it also tells us that they brought three gifts; and over the centuries they have even acquired names: Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar.

The gifts themselves are highly symbolic. Gold is a symbol of worldly wealth and power, although in a powdered form it was also sometimes used as medicine. Frankincense is a type of incense burned during prayers and religious rituals, while myrrh, that “bitter perfume,” is an oil used for embalming the dead. Suitable gifts for a king, or even for another magician. But hardly appropriate presents for the infant son of a peasant carpenter, born amidst animals in a stable.

And what about that mysterious star? The most common interpretation is that the Magi observed an astrologically significant conjunction of the planets Jupiter and Saturn in the year 7 BC, although others have speculated that the star was a comet, or perhaps even a supernova. And then there is the part of the story involving Herod, a part that we rarely dramatize in our pageants. But according to Matthew, shortly after the Wise Men’s visit Herod sent his soldiers to murder every male child in the region of Bethlehem under the age of two, and that Jesus only escaped death by fleeing with his family into Egypt. Thus having inadvertently alerted Herod to a potential threat to his reign, the Wise Men also warned Mary and Joseph of the danger to their child in time to allow them to make their way to safety.

Christmas for us is often thought of as a season of homecoming. It is a time when we celebrate family, and the values of Peace on Earth, Goodwill to All. It is a time for feasting, and philanthropy, and above all it is a celebration of and for children, each of whom is so precious in our eyes. And yet the Christmas story itself, as told in Scripture, is in many ways a very different tale. It is a story of a young family far from home, dependent upon the hospitality of strangers for their safety and security, and in danger of their very lives. It is a story of refugees living as exiles in a foreign land, pursued by soldiers on the whim of a murderous tyrant. But it is also a story of a great potential good which emerges from humble origins, and the hope, and the promise, of a better way of living in the world, and being at home on “an earth made fair, with all her people one.”

Six Hours of Celtic Women

All three of our local PBS stations are holding their winter pledge drives this weekend, which means that if you have a taste for that sort of thing, it's possible to watch six straight hours of "Celtic Women." And I have to confess, they are strangely fascinating. Like "Riverdance" without the dancing. Or a cross between "Up With People" and the Spice Girls. Or maybe an Irish version of the Dixie Chicks....

I wish I had something truly profound to say about all this, but I don't. Six Hours of Celtic Women. That's a long time to have to wait for Victor Borge....

Film Review (warning: spoiler alert)

One of the things I’ve been doing with all the extra time freed-up by three Sundays in a row out of the pulpit is catching up with some of those “Important but not Urgent” tasks that pile up on one’s desk over the course of a busy program year. For example, last month our congregation received two new DVDs from the Unitarian Universalist Association: the first on “Ideas for Growth: Welcoming the Newcomer” and a second profiling four “Breakthrough Congregations” honored at the 2006 General Assembly. Not exactly your typical Netflix wish list, I admit, but still things that, as a minister, I felt I ought to watch.

I generally hate this sort of thing, even though I often agree with most of the points they are trying to get across. The Welcoming Newcomers video in particular reminded me once again that membership growth is not really about mastering new and better “techniques” for attracting people into our churches. It’s really just about faithfully following a few simple, basic principles, while at the same time cultivating a WHOLE NEW ATTITUDE around the importance of “radical hospitality” as an essential characteristic of our faith communities.

Here are some of the grim realities, as pointed out by the video. Nationwide our congregations attract thousands of first-time visitors every week. But our current growth rate is only about 1%, or approximately one net new member per congregation every year. Furthermore, most UU societies are either on a plateau or slightly shrinking in size: roughly two-thirds of our net membership growth as a denomination has taken place in only 6% of our congregations. Given those two statistics: thousands of visitors, and only 1% growth, the obvious question becomes “why don’t more people connect with our churches?” or (perhaps more to the point) “How can we stop repelling newcomers in droves?”

Here are a few of the basic principles I mentioned earlier::

• Say “Hello” when people first arrive, and really mean it. By the time a new visitor shows up at our front door, they have typically already done a little homework, perhaps checked us out on our website, are favorably disposed to what they have seen, eager to make a connection with "like-minded souls" and have met us more than halfway by coming to where we are and expressing their interest. Now it’s OUR TURN to carry the ball, by welcoming them warmly as guests in our spiritual home. Newcomers arrive on Sunday morning as anonymous strangers, but they should NEVER leave still feeling that way.

• Show newcomers they really matter to us by taking a genuine interest in them, and following up. To use a metaphor (not part of the video), if we want there to be a second date, we need to be brave enough to ask them for their number, and then call...or at the very least send a welcoming letter. If we think it’s “too aggressive” to ask visitors for their contact information, we can pretty much count on them sitting home alone on Sunday mornings. But if we are willing to respond to their initiative by following up on their initial interest, it might just be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

• Finally, we need to be willing to offer a clear pathway and extend a personal invitation to formal membership in our community. This generally means developing a intentional and structured process by which newcomers can first orient themselves to our congregation and the UU faith tradition, share their own religious journeys while safely exploring how well they fit with us, and finally make an formal commitment to joining our church. This act of commitment is a Big Deal, and ought to be treated that way, with appropriate recognition and celebration by the entire congregation.

Lately in our denomination it has become popular to speak of the commitments of membership in terms of the “Three T’s” of Time, Talent, and Treasure. I have a lot more to say about each of these some other time, but for now I’d just like to point out that it’s difficult to expect newcomers to take these commitments seriously if the old-timers don’t take them seriously as well. One of the most important responsibilities of being a member of any church is to set a good example for those who are still learning what it means to be “one of us.” Membership growth begins with a commitment to spiritual growth, and to doing ourselves what we would have others do along with us.

...and if you don't, you end up in Iraq

OK, so the Iraq Study Group (or whatever they are calling themselves) has published their report, and guess what? Turns out the invasion of Iraq was a BIG strategic mistake, one of historic magnitude, and that -- omigosh -- there are potential consequences to our (i.e. Dubya and Company's) terrible blunder. Iraq is disintergrating into civil war, our allies are bailing out as fast as they can pack their parachutes, the Taliban (and with them, al-Qaeda) are on the resurgence in Afghanistan, and perhaps most troubling of all (notwithstanding all the Iraqi CIVILIAN casualties), not only are we losing, but our magnificent military force (which we boast is the most powerful military force in the history of the world) is now stressed almost to the breaking point.

Not only do we not have more boots to put on the ground even if we wanted to (never mind the feet to fill them), but weapons and equipment are wearing out, recruitment is down, and casualties are mounting (nearly 3000 Americans KIA, perhaps ten times that number seriously wounded, and countless more "psychological" casualties -- perfectly understandable when you realize that combat itself is inherently traumatic, stressful, and disorderly).

According to an interview I heard with a retired US Army general earlier this week, at any given moment approximately 1/3rd of our Army is in Iraq, 1/3rd is refitting after returning from Iraq, and 1/3 is preparing to return to Iraq, leaving very few folks left over to meet our other military obligations. The Powell Doctrine is in shambles, and without the "backdoor draft" of the Individual Ready Reserve, we would be hard pressed to go to war even with the Army we have, much less the one we think we need. America's tradition of the "Citizen Soldier" is coming up hard against the realities of the neo-conservatism's imperial ambitions of World Domination. Something's gonna give.

If it hasn't given out already....

Of course, one wonders whether someone who had actually served in a combat zone themselves (someone like, say, Al Gore or John Kerry) would have made the same mistakes as our "chicken hawk" champagne soldier/leaders have. Although even as I say that, I realize it isn't fair. But perhaps this whole issue of who serves, and who is best served by their sacrifice, is worthy of its own post. What I really wanted to say is that none of this comes as a surprise to some of us. Here's what I had to say on the subject at the start of the war, over 3 1/2 years ago....

*****

"A Busted Flush?"

a sermon preached by the Rev. Dr. Tim W. Jensen
at the Second Congregational Meeting House on Nantucket Island
Sunday April 13, 2003

READING: Luke 21: 5-19

***
I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but with everything that’s been going on in my life and in the world of late, I almost forgot that today is Palm Sunday. Here it is, the start of Holy Week, the most sacred season of the Christian liturgical calendar, and all I can think about is tanks and jets and automatic weapons, toppled statues of toppled dictators, and images from half-way around the world of people running through the streets, often carrying stolen televisions or other consumer goods on their backs...images that remind me, more than anything else, of the pictures from Los Angeles following the Rodney King beating.

War is never pretty, and this war is no exception. But I also have to admit, again with some embarrassment, that I’m actually kinda proud of the performance of our armed forces in Iraq this past month. I still believe that this war was one that could and should have been avoided, and that a policy of unilateral, preemptive military invasion is both morally wrong and politically wrong-headed. Yet the actions of our troops in the field have really been quite remarkable -- they have accomplished their mission with great effectiveness and professionalism, and with what must be admitted (by historical standards at least) have been minimal casualties on both sides. And so, while I would have just as soon not seen this war happen at all, I’m relieved now to see it rapidly drawing to a close, and only hope that whatever comes in the aftermath of battle will prove worthy of the standards set by our young men and women in uniform. As we all know, it’s a lot easier to tear something down than it is to rebuild something better in its place.

In many ways, I am as ashamed of our political leaders as I am proud of our soldiers and sailors and aviators. The President ostensibly ordered this invasion in order to protect America from the threat of Saddam Hussein’s “Weapons of Mass Destruction.” And who knows? they may still show up somewhere, but we haven’t found them yet, and they haven’t been used against us on the battlefield either. Saddam’s “regime” has been overthrown, but the future of the Iraqi people is still very much in doubt, and already we are hearing thinly-veiled threats from certain voices within the Administration that Syria and Iran should “draw the appropriate lesson” from America’s military success next door.

Opinion polls show that 71% of Americans approve of the President’s handling of this war, but not everyone in the world shares this high opinion of our Commander in Chief. If the end result of our overseas military adventurism is merely to cultivate resentment and bitterness, both among our historical allies, as well as the people we are purportedly attempting to help, it’s hard for me to see how that policy furthers American interests, or makes us safer from the threat of terrorism. Before we get too excited about celebrating the triumph of our military victory, we need to realize that, in many ways, the most difficult days are still ahead.

One of the most disturbing news items to come out of Iraq in the last few days, at least for me personally, was the report of the looting of Iraq’s National Museum of Antiquities. I was only a child when I first read about Mesopotamia -- the “land between the rivers” -- the “cradle of civilization” where over 7000 years ago human beings first began to live in cities. There are over 10,000 archeological sites in Iraq, and until just a few days ago, the National Museum of Antiquities was the home of the largest and most extensive collection of Ancient Near Eastern artifacts in the world.

But not any more.

It only took a few hours for looters to ransack the museum and strip it clean, while the curators watched helplessly, and American soldiers refused to intervene. It’s a tragedy of immeasurable consequence, as well as a poignant symbol of America’s own cultural myopia, that we should plan so assiduously to protect the Iraqi oil fields from sabotage, yet allow the wanton plunder of Iraq’s priceless cultural heritage.

Perhaps the most amusing news item was the unveiling of a deck of specially-designed playing cards bearing the names and likenesses of 55 members of Saddam’s inner circle wanted by American authorities as possible war criminals. The plan is to distribute these playing cards to American soldiers in order to help them more easily identify these fugitives from American justice. Saddam himself is the Ace of Spades, but so far the only card our soldiers have drawn is the Seven of Diamonds, 64-year-old Iraqi General Amir al-Saadi, who was Saddam's top science adviser and in charge of Iraq’s biological and chemical weapons program at the time of the first Gulf War, and who turned himself in to United States Marines after learning from watching the BBC that his name was on the list.

Saadi had been cooperating closely with UN weapons inspector Hans Blix prior to the start of the current invasion, and insists that, to the best of his knowledge, the Iraqi government had discontinued its weapons programs and destroyed its pre-existing stockpiles of chemical and biological agents long ago. Here are some quotes from an interview he taped for a German journalist just before his surrender. “I was knowledgeable about those programs, those past programs, and I was telling the truth, always the truth.... We were finally approaching the point of getting everything accounted for, but things have turned out differently.... Time will bear me out.... There will be no difference after the war is over.... I’m saying this for posterity, for history, not for defending the regime....”

The judgment of history has a funny way of trumping the momentary passions and political spin of the 24/7 news cycle. And nowhere is this principle more vividly illustrated than in the gospel narratives of the original Holy Week. I encourage everyone here, sometime this week, to take a little break from watching CNN and read them again for yourselves, but just in case you don’t get around to it let me summarize the story for you. For approximately three years following his baptism by John in the River Jordan, Jesus traveled with his followers among the villages of Galilee, developing something of a reputation for himself as an itinerant religious teacher and healer. The content of his teaching, as best as we can tell, wasn’t all that different from that of a lot of other Jewish religious teachers of the time. It would have been considered radical by some, because it tended to be critical of hypocrisy and of the privileged priestly class, and in that sense also subversive of the established order. But this was also very much in line with the traditional role of a Prophet in the Jewish faith.

And then at some point in his career, Jesus decided to travel to Jerusalem, for Passover. In those days, Jerusalem at Passover made Nantucket in August look mellow. The population swelled to perhaps ten or twenty times its normal size with pilgrims, all of whom were in a heightened state of religious enthusiasm. Passover is the commemoration of the escape of the Israelites from slavery in Egypt, and it always made the Roman “protectors” in Jerusalem a little nervous, for obvious reasons. It doesn’t really matter how powerful you are militarily, keeping the lid on a city swarming with religious fanatics, who are celebrating the memory of their freedom from past oppression, is never easy.

According to the Gospels, Jesus arrived in Jerusalem in a style deliberately evocative of a messianic prophecy from Isaiah, riding on a young colt (or maybe a donkey) who had never been ridden, and was greeted by a throng of cheering admirers. And the first thing he did was to go to the temple and upset the tables of the moneychangers, the merchants who exchanged foreign money for temple coinage so that pilgrims could purchase the ritual animals one needed in order to sacrifice properly according to Levitical law.

After that little outburst, he continued to teach on the steps of the temple for the rest of the week, criticizing those who held power and authority within the city, and protected from retribution by the size of the crowd, which might easily become a violent mob if provoked. At night, he and his followers would slip away to a private place to sleep, once again protected by their relative anonymity within the overcrowded city.

Unable to lay hands on Jesus by force, the temple authorities resorted to subterfuge. They bribed one of his followers to reveal to them the location where he slept, and seized him under cover of darkness. They tried him before a secret tribunal, found him guilty of blasphemy, then turned him over to the Roman authorities with a request that he be executed for sedition under Roman law. The Roman governor, Pontius Pilate, cared little for the legal nuances (not to mention the theological subtleties) of the case; he was only interested in preventing a riot. He offered to release Jesus to the crowd as an act of mercy, but when the mob called instead for the release of the revolutionary Zealot terrorist Barabbas, Pilate washed his hands of the entire situation, and turned Jesus over to his soldiers to be flogged and crucified, fully expecting that this would put an end to the matter.

But of course, things didn’t quite work out that way. And I hope I haven’t been too subtle (or for that matter, too heavy-handed) in relating this parable about the arrogance of power, and the ultimate power of the Truth. Jesus entered Jerusalem at the beginning of the week like a triumphant, conquering hero, but by the end of the week he discovered that the mob had turned against him, and he was executed like a common criminal. But it didn’t end there. The temple authorities thought that they could put an end to the teachings by putting an end to the teacher, but that didn’t happen either -- if anything, the faith only grew stronger and more formidable through the martyrdom of its founder, as the spiritual practices taught by Jesus rapidly evolved into a religion about “the Christ.”

Rome’s attempt to quell civil disturbance through the ruthless application of military force proved equally futile; within a generation they were back in Palestine with an entire army, laying siege to the city of Jerusalem and tearing down all but a single wall of the magnificent temple which stood at its center. And yet, when we think of Rome today, we think, not of Caesar, but of Christ; Christianity conquered the Roman Empire from within, transforming it into something far different than it was, and being dramatically transformed itself in the process.

History never really repeats itself; the nuances of cultural difference, the complexity of specific events, the dynamics of progressive change over time, make each new historical situation unique. But patterns of human behavior do repeat themselves within history, because frankly human nature hasn’t really changed that much in the past 2000 years, or the past 7000 for that matter. Sure we’ve made some technological progress, our scientific knowledge of the world is much better than it was; and I like to think that we’ve made some progress in ethics and theology as well. But unless we are willing to learn from the lessons of history, we find ourselves repeating again and again the mistakes of our ancestors, because it really doesn’t matter how much we know unless we are willing to be guided by the wisdom of that knowledge.

I can’t begin to tell you how much it bothers me to think that someday posterity will remember America in the same way that we remember Imperial Rome -- a brutal, arrogant, bloodthirsty and oppressive military power whose ingenuity as engineers far outstripped their moral conscience. I can’t tell you how much it bothers me to think that, even today, there are many people around the world who look at the American flag and feel the same sense of revulsion I feel when I look at the red, white and black armbands and battle flags of Nazi Germany.

A generation ago the German people supported their troops through a series of stunning military victories: in Austria and Czechoslovakia, in Poland and Denmark and Norway, in France and the Balkans, in North Africa and Russia. They willingly sacrificed their own civil liberties in order to protect the security of their homeland from the supposedly dangerous influence of non-Germanic “foreigners” who lived among them. And then, as the tide of history turned against them, they found themselves essentially powerless to do anything to change it, compelled instead to follow their fanatical leader all the way down that terrible path which ends in history’s “unmarked grave of discarded lies.”

Don’t get me wrong. The United States of America is NOT Nazi Germany, nor is it Imperial Rome. And this is why it is so important for us to remember history’s lessons about the fundamental emptiness of military power, as well as the more subtle lesson about the transformative power of a good idea, faithfully held and practiced even in the face of adversity. I have little doubt that, on some level at least, the world will be a better place now that Saddam Hussein no longer holds power in Iraq. But it remains to be seen what kind of government we will be able to establish in his place, and whether we will attempt to do it all alone, or will at last enlist the assistance of others in a true “coalition of the willing.”

In this difficult task, American military power will matter far less than American compassion, tolerance, and generosity, as well as our willingness to put into practice our most cherished beliefs about human rights, civil liberties, and democratic self-determination.

It’s one thing to say the words. It’s quite another to put those principles into action, especially when we think we hold all the aces, and forget that there are always a few wild cards out there capable of transforming what we thought was a winning hand into a busted flush....

****

and if you liked that, here are some other things you might enjoy....

No Holiday for Doves
(preached Sunday November 10th, 2002 at the Second Congregational Meeting House on Nantucket Island)

Vergissmeinnicht
(preached Sunday May 25th, 2003 at the Second Congregational Meeting House on Nantucket Island)

A Dog that Quacks like a Duck
(preached Sunday November 9th, 2003 at the First Religious Society in Carlisle, Massachusetts)

Patriots & Scoundrels
(preached Sunday April 25th, 2004 at the First Religious Society in Carlisle, Massachusetts)

ChaliceChick responds to the Eclectic Cleric

Will wonders never cease? Now not only do I discover that someone who isn't related to me is actually READING my blog, but I've accidentally discovered how to link her blog to mine. So here is ChaliceChick's response, along with my reply to her

The ChaliceBlog: Itty Bitty: CC responds to the eclectic cleric

Great Response! You don't exactly miss the point, but you don't entirely get it either. One of the difficulties of carrying on a conversation like this in multiple forums is that not all of the participants get to hear all of the contributions. My post was originally a response to a much longer thread on this topic in the UUMA-chat, which I cross-posted to my blog because I'm basically a lazy enough blogger as it is, and felt it deserved a little wider audience.

Among the ministers, several have attempted to distinguish between the issues of "size" and that of quality or excellence. There is a difference between being good (or bad) at what you are (a small church), and being dismissed as inferior simply because you're not something else (a larger church).

Which still leaves in place the most urgent question: how do we best help small churches become more excellent?

Obviously, as a minister myself I like to believe that what I do is important, valuable, and worthwhile. And yes, the issue of leadership is CRUCIAL. But I've known (and worked effectively with) many superb, visionary LAY leaders in small churches; and I also know that simply because someone has jumped through all the hoops and acheived ordination does not automatically make them a good leader (much less a good preacher).

Finally, I've been doing this work long enough to harbor very few "romantic" notions about churches of any size. But for me, the "performance" aspect of the large church experience ultimately seems a little hollow, while the authenticity of caring about Myrtle's hurt feelings feels a little closer to what church SHOULD be about. That's not to say that feelings won't be hurt -- the Church is an institution which routinely breaks our hearts because it aspires to be so much, and unavoidably disappoints. And one of the most heartbreaking things about serving small churches is that you are compelled to take the disappointments personally. In the big church people simply disappear, and we never see or hear from them again.

Previously seen on the UUMA-chat

There's an interesting thread running now over on the UUMA-chat about New Starts, the "Fellowship Mentality," sitting on the "Franchise," and the economics of "Itty-Bitty" churches. Here's my contribution to the dialogue.

Itty-Bitty churches are tough. Often times you can't even kill them with a stick if you try. But they also often lack the resources to do the the same kinds of things that bigger churches do, and when those things become, by definition, "real" church the itty-bittys often only grow to feel inferior, because their attention becomes focused on the things they can't do rather than the things they do well.

What makes "big" church "real" church? Well, lots of things...but mostly it's the fact that they can pay a (relatively) bigger salary to a "professional" minister. Which brings me to the truly irksome question: is the "real" mission of the church merely to provide clergy with paychecks? And if that's our tacit understanding, it's no wonder our churches aren't growing.

Of course, we all have to eat...and even though there are plenty of people (even in big churches) who would love to muzzle the ox, the laborer is worthy of their hire. Which brings me to the second irksome point: what are we actually doing to provide "value" to our "customers?" And if the very language of that question troubles you as much as it does me, then you are ready to move on to the next level.

Bribing small churches with the promise of outside money if they are willing to take on an often-times difficult-to-place-elsewhere minister and provide them with a steady paycheck is generally a bad idea, and one of the reasons Extension Ministry in our movement developed such a bad reputation. There were plenty of good Extension Ministers out there, but rather than developing into a specialized vocation (like Interim Ministry), the program became sidetracked and lost sight of its more basic purpose. Or at least that's my opinion as an historian. Likewise, supporting small (and new) churches who have a clear vision of how they hope to serve their larger community, and a deep commitment to making that vision real, is a tricky business. The availability of outside money (in the form of grants or subsidies) often transforms the real mission into obtaining more of it. Offering training and "professional expertise" can often come across as "we know what to do, and you don't." And so on....

If you look at the experiences of successful megachurch pastors like Rick Warren and Bill Hybels, you will discover that their "success" has little to do with their techniques, and a lot more to do with their own personal commitment and willingness to share the sacrifices of their people in devotion to a shared vision and common goals articulated by the ministers themselves! Willow Creek didn't start out as a megachurch. It took an entire professional lifetime to grow it to that size.

I also have some questions about how compatible the "culture" of megachurch is to the predominately "anti-authoritarian" ethos of Unitarian Universalism as we know it now. Each of the four church sizes (Family, Pastoral, Program, Corporate) has its own organizational culture, and tends to attract souls who feel comfortable there. When we complain about the "anti-clericalism" of the "Fellowship mentality," we are both disrespecting the culture of the family-sized congregation, as well as often reacting ourselves to the push-back we receive to a perceived sense of our own "professional" arrogance, privilege, superiority and entitlement. In other words, we are buying into the paradigm that, by virtue of our superior education and credentials, WE know what "real" church is and our people don't...an assumption both of dubious veracity and extremely dangerous politically.

As I've written elsewhere, a truly effective denominational growth program will develop proven and workable strategies for improving the effectiveness of churches of all sizes, recognizing that they all have a place in the "ecology" of a healthy religious movement. To suggest that "one size fits all" and that we just need to figure out which size is best is at best simple-minded, and potentially downright dangerous.

Finally, I think it's important for each of us to recognize that we all have different vocations as well, and that the opportunity to "be" ministers and to "do" ministry is as much a gift that is given to us as it is a gift we give to others. We are not entitled to lifelong financial support simply because we have earned an advanced degree and received a credential. Ministry is a relationship both to a community and to a "higher" purpose -- and the better we serve those two masters, the more likely it is we will be able to make an honest living doing so. But let's not forget who ultimately does sign our paychecks, and the sacrifices THEY make in order to do so.

No Longer a Black and White World

I've been ruminating quite a bit about actor Michael Richards' recent rant, trying to find an appropriate context for both the intensity of the outburst and the sincerity of his apology. None of us likes to think of ourselves as harboring secret prejudice, and so generally we don't (think about it, that is), at least until we do (often because we can't avoid thinking about it any longer). So I guess on that level "Kramer" is no different than anyone else I know or know of. We all are, after all, only human.

The problem is not so much that human beings are instinctively xenophobic and suspicious of "the Other," or that we create stereotypes based on limited impressions, and then "discriminate" on the basis of those stereotypes in order to protect ourselves from the unknown threat of the unfamiliar, or even that we occasionally lose our tempers and say things we later wish we hadn't. That's just what people do.

The real question is whether or not we can find the courage to outgrow our prejudice, through better knowledge, broader personal experience, improved communication, sincere forgiveness, and ultimately real understanding. And the key to all of this is mutual trust, which (as we all know) doesn't exactly grow on trees. Yet Trust is also essential for forming the kind of honest and authentic interpersonal relationships we need to allow us to overcome our prejudices in the first place, and become better people than we are.

Intellectually, I've understood for a long time now that the whole idea of "race" itself is simply a social construction: a despicable fiction created to justify the "Peculiar Institution" of buying and selling one's own brothers and sisters as if they were chattal property. But Racism itself is very real, and deeply woven into almost every aspect of our social fabric and our cultural institutions. And so skin color becomes a "marker" of social class, our mutual ignorace of one another evolves into fear and suspicion, existing inequalities of wealth, power, and opportunity are reinforced, and the pervasive threat of violence which lurks just beneath the surface, both keeping everyone in "their place" and threatening to turn the entire unjust system inside-out, remains a constant part of the landscape of our everyday reality.

And I freely admit, I don't know what the answers are. If the answers were easy, this wouldn't still be a problem, would it? But the Good News is, when we finally do figure this all out, our shared wisdom will be a great benefit for us all. That's the day I'm praying I'll live to see. God willing, it won't be far away.

An Ecumenical Thanksgiving homily

“First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for everyone, for kings and all who are in high positions, so that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity. This is right and is acceptable in the sight of God our savior, who desires everyone to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth....” [First Timothy 2: 1-4]

I know it’s a little silly, and more than a little naive, but when I was young I always kinda felt like Paul’s epistles to Timothy were addressed personally to me. And even now that I’m older, and realize that these so-called “Pastoral” epistles of Timothy and Titus were probably written by someone else perhaps a century or more after Paul’s own death; and that they probably weren’t actually written to anyone actually named “Timothy” either, and are among the most socially and theologically conservative documents in the New Testament (tonight’s lesson, for example, comes just a few verses prior to that notorious injunction about women “learning in silence with full submission”); even knowing all of that, it still feels kinda special to open the Bible and see my name there on the printed page, along with all sorts of centuries-old advice (some of it better than others) about how to be a better pastor.

And there are several things about this particular reading that I have always found particularly intriguing.

Why, for example, does Paul (or at least the author of this epistle) make such a big deal about singling out those in authority or “high position” as the beneficiaries of our prayers? Is it just that he feels that they need it more than the rest of us? Or is there something intrinsically worthwhile about a “quiet, peaceable life,” and those in high positions are somehow in a more influential position when it comes to nurturing or disrupting our “dignity” (σεμνοτητι) and “godliness” (ευσεβεια)?

But it’s actually the next part of the lesson that intrigues me most, because historically this is one of the classic “proof” texts for the doctrine of Universal Salvation. Yet often it gets translated and interpreted in such a way it is made to seem to say just the opposite. “For this is acceptable in the sight of God our Savior, who desires EVERYONE to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.” The passage continues in the next verse with a confessional formula “For there is one God [and] there is also one mediator (μεσιτηs) between God and humankind, Christ Jesus, himself human, who gave himself as a ransom for all.” And it’s this last phrase in particular, αντιλυτρον υπερ παντων, that I particularly want to draw your attention to this evening. A ransom “hyper panton.” For All. For Everybody. Not just a few. Not just those who believe, or are powerful or in positions of authority. Hyper Panton. For Everyone.

Of course nowadays, because of all sorts of subsequent theological speculation surrounding a doctrine which became known as the “Substitutionary Atonement,” the word “antilutron” or “ransom” has taken on a whole suitcase full of other connotations that influence our contemporary reading of this passage, in many instances essentially turning its meaning upside-down. And yes it’s true that the word λυτρον in ancient Greek is often used in the sense of “ransom” or “recompense” -- especially in the context of money paid, for example, to redeem a hostage or even a slave, such as in the case of a family member who might have been captured by pirates, and was either going to be ransomed back to their loved ones or sold into servitude -- it didn’t really matter which, since the pirates were going to get their "lutron" in the end regardless of who paid.

At the root of the word is the Greek verb λυιεν meaning “to loose” or to release, to liberate; a word that is very familiar to every first year New Testament Greek student because it’s the one we had to memorize in order to learn the proper conjugations of those regular, first declension verbs: λυω, λυειs, λυει, λυομεν, λυετε, λυουσι and so on.

It’s also the active verb in one of the first verses of Scripture I ever learned by heart, and still one of my favorites: John 8:32 “For you shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.” Ransom, Redemption, Freedom, Liberation -- it’s all basically the same idea in Greek, and it all comes from the knowledge and understanding of Truth.

Which brings us to the complicated part. Whose “Truth” are we talking about? And this is where (in my mind, at least) the Scripture sometimes gets turned on its head. Because in this particular verse (and so far as I know, this is the ONLY example of this anywhere) the preposition "anti" has been added to the noun lutron as a prefix, to form the word antilutron -- also translated as “ransom,” but interpreted (at least by certain theologians of the more conservative persuasion) to mean that Jesus substituted HIMSELF as a ransom “as opposed to” allowing humanity to remain in captivity, and it is only everyone who believes that this is true who are going to be “ransomed,” and not “everyone” everyone (like the Scripture itself plainly says).

Now I want you all to appreciate that I personally, after all, am a Unitarian and a Universalist, so I tend to believe that any God truly worthy of the name who really WANTS us all to be saved is going to save us all anyway, regardless of what we personally may believe about it, or what it may or may not say in the Bible, in any language. But there is one more word I would like to draw your attention to tonight, and this is the word “Thanksgiving” itself , or ευχαριστιαs -- a word with which I’m confident the Catholics here this evening are intimately familiar.

The Eucharist is above all else an expression of gratitude: gratitude for the gift of life, gratitude for the many blessings we have received in life, gratitude for the good fortune being part of the family of God, and therefore brothers and sisters to one another.

And I especially want all of us here in this room, whether we are Catholic or Unitarian or just sorta here out of curiosity or family obligation, to think about “Thanksgiving” in the context of tonight’s Gospel lesson from Luke 17, where ten were healed but only one, the Samaritan, the foreigner, the outsider, returned to offer thanks. And in that act of Euchariston he was not only healed of his affliction, he was also made “whole” (σεσωκεν ) through his faith, his “trust” (πιστιs).

We have much to give thanks for here in this community, not the least of which is that we CAN come together as members of different faiths living in the same community, and give thanks together for the blessings we all share with one another as human beings, regardless of who we are or where we come from, or even what we believe. It’s a blessing not known in many parts of the world. And for it, may we this day be truly Thankful.

This WILL be on the Midterm...

By now George W. Bush's legacy as one of the worst Presidents in United States history is relatively secure. Warren G. Harding. Ulysses S. Grant. And then the competition starts to get a little thin. Maybe Millard Fillmore, James Buchanan, or Rutherford B. Hayes. I mean, even Hoover and Nixon look good by comparison!

Not only was Dubya caught with his pants down on September 11th, 2001 (after first setting in motion the greatest transfer of wealth from working people to the obscenely rich in the history of the world), but the policies of his administration in the aftermath of those attacks have been both cynically self-serving and singularly ineffective. Osama bin Laden is still at large, while the war to change the regime in Iraq and rid Saddam of his imaginary weapons of mass destruction has simply led to the proliferation of nuclear technology to other "rogue nations," while at the same time creating a "new front in the War on Terror" which has tied down our military in a no-win civil war between irreconcilable religious fanatics, while at the same time making American soldiers easier targets for terrorist insurgents of every ideology. Secret overseas prisons, government-sanctioned torture, the dismemberment of the Bill of Rights: when you actually step back and take a good, hard look at what is really happening, the reality is MUCH worse than the partisan political rhetoric.

Stocks (and Oil Prices) are at record highs, but real wages are stagnant and a collapsing housing market threatens to rob many middle class Americans of their only real source of financial security. And then of course there was Katrina. But the real travesty of the Bush administration has been its utter disregard for the problem of Global Warming, and its refusal to take seriously our nation's dominate role in the creation of that problem. Our children and our children's children have far more to fear from out of control climate change than they do a terrorist attack. Yet if controlling carbon emissions threatens to cut into oil company profits, the idea might as well be dead on arrival.

The Bushies stole an election in Florida in 2000 to come to office in the first place. This is not just my opinion; it is an objective, historical fact. They quite likely stole another (in Ohio, in 2004) in order to maintain their grip on power. We know that they will lie; we know that they will suppress voter turnout; we know that they are willing to race-bait, gay-bash, appeal to religious prejudice and spend massive amounts of money in order to polarize our nation through fear-mongering and jingoism and maintain their places of wealth and privilege. And it really does need to end. Soon. Like next Tuesday. Rome wasn't built in a day. But the Roman Republic collapsed in less than a generation, to be replaced by a brutal system of autocratic, authoritarian government in which a handful of unimaginably wealthy individuals dominated the known world, and treated its entire population as their slaves. Don't be distracted by Bread and Circuses. Regime Change truly does begin at home.