When we were still newlyweds, and I was serving my first congregation in Midland Texas, my former wife came home from work one afternoon and asked her daughter "Where's Tim?"
"Oh, he's gone to a motel to meet a girl," my eight-year-old stepdaughter replied, then quickly added as she noticed the change in her mother's expression: "Don't worry mom. It's Minister stuff."
The girl was a sixteen-year-old runaway I'd met the previous evening while working as a volunteer hospital emergency room chaplain. I'd given her my card, and told her to call me when she was ready to be helped. I ended up bringing her back home with me, where she lived as part of our family for about three weeks while I negotiated long-distance with her mother to give Ruth one more chance. As I was taking her to the airport, just before Christmas, I noticed the six-inch Bowie knife she'd been carrying in her handbag while living on the streets, and later in my home.
"You can't take that on the plane with you," I said calmly. Ruth looked a little confused, then took the knife out of her purse and handed it to me. I put it in the glove box of my car, where it remained for years, until I sold that car and the knife disappeared somewhere into a box in my garage.
That was then, in Midland Texas...when I was young and idealistic and full of hope, and my pastoral boundaries were perhaps not quite so well-defined as they are today. Yesterday, I was in my car and called my now thirty-year-old stepdaughter just because I felt the need to talk.
"I'm on my way to the hospital," I told her...then quickly added "Don't worry Hon; It's Minister stuff." A parishioner of mine had fallen from a ladder and struck his head on a rock while helping his daughter and son-in-law build an addition on their new home. He was not going to survive this accident; in an instant, a heartbeat, a blink of an eye his life was over and the lives of everyone who knew and loved him would be dramatically changed forever. The rest of the details aren't really that important. I cleared my calendar for the next few days, and drove for an hour to be with this family as they navigated this terrible tragedy: to help guide them spiritually when I could, to support them emotionally as best as I was able, to represent all of the other members of their faith community who would have liked to have been there to help as well if it were somehow possible.
This is the kind of thing a minister can do in a congregation of only 100 households, at the tail-end of a long, slow summer. Still, it's a helluva way to make a living. I guess I keep doing it because I can, and because I know that it's important. Because after a quarter of a century in this strange and outrageously demanding profession I've experienced some things in life and about myself which make me of service to people who are facing this sort of crisis themselves, maybe for the first time, maybe even for the only time in their lives. And I don't want to make it sound sentimental or melodramatic, because it's not. It's just matter-of-fact life and death in its devastatingly uncompromising simplicity.
Minister Stuff.
Friday, August 25, 2006
Sunday, August 20, 2006
The Heart of the Matter
Light-hearted.
Hard-hearted.
Half-hearted.
Soft-hearted.
Whole-hearted.
Heavy-hearted.
Which shall it be?
Light and Soft certainly: that's just the way I'm wired. Hard when I have to be, but never whole-heartedly; and heavy-hearted when I have to be hard. Often half-heartedly, which is its own tragedy: to discover your heart just isn't in it. Seems like there is so little these days worthy of giving our hearts to.
Hearts and Minds. Body and Soul. Heart and Soul. But for some reason mind and body often appear at odds with one another, until the Heart brings them together and creates a Soul that unites them as one in the mind and in the image of God. The Spirit is willing but the Flesh is weak without the Heart to encourage them.
It takes courage to take heart in the face of the discouraging -- disappointment, frustration, dissatisfaction, despair. This is the real Heart of the Matter. Where do we find the courage to surrender our hearts to God? A God who softens the hard hearts of a stubborn, stiff-necked people...and leaves us feeling light-hearted again.
Simply a handful of heart-felt thoughts before heading over to church this morning....
Hard-hearted.
Half-hearted.
Soft-hearted.
Whole-hearted.
Heavy-hearted.
Which shall it be?
Light and Soft certainly: that's just the way I'm wired. Hard when I have to be, but never whole-heartedly; and heavy-hearted when I have to be hard. Often half-heartedly, which is its own tragedy: to discover your heart just isn't in it. Seems like there is so little these days worthy of giving our hearts to.
Hearts and Minds. Body and Soul. Heart and Soul. But for some reason mind and body often appear at odds with one another, until the Heart brings them together and creates a Soul that unites them as one in the mind and in the image of God. The Spirit is willing but the Flesh is weak without the Heart to encourage them.
It takes courage to take heart in the face of the discouraging -- disappointment, frustration, dissatisfaction, despair. This is the real Heart of the Matter. Where do we find the courage to surrender our hearts to God? A God who softens the hard hearts of a stubborn, stiff-necked people...and leaves us feeling light-hearted again.
Simply a handful of heart-felt thoughts before heading over to church this morning....
Friday, August 11, 2006
Our Trust in Things Not Seen
Overheard one of my people the other day describe Faith as 'belief without evidence." This upset me a little...basically made me feel like I haven't really been doing my job very well, but then here's the kicker: for half my lifetime (25 years - which is essentially my entire life as an adult), I have "served" as an ordained clergyman, even though most days I don't really believe in God...or at least not anything that would pass for God in 98% of the so-called "Christian" churches on this planet. I CERTAINLY don't believe in the Virgin Birth, the Physical Resurrection, the Substitutionary Atonement, the literal Inerrancy of the Scripture, and Christ's Bodily Second Coming...much less that Jesus of Nazareth was the Son of God in any sense other that we are all metaphorically God's Children, and thus brothers and sisters to one another. In fact, if I were re-writing the creed it would go something along the lines of: I Believe that Jesus of Nazareth was a bastard, born of a young woman in the usual way, that he was crucified under Pontius Pilate and that he was never buried at all, but rather his body hung upon a crude Roman cross until it had been entirely consumed by ravens and wild dogs, and that people have been trying to turn him into something he never was for their own purposes ever since. Not exactly the most inspiring set of beliefs, I know. Maybe it's a good thing I wasn't a First Century Christian.
What else do I believe? Well, I believe in Evil -- in cruelty, selfishness, deceit, deception, greed, avarice, lust, pride, gluttony, and all the rest -- believe in them because I see the evidence of them with my own two eyes almost every day. In a word, I believe in Sin. But not Original Sin; rather, just the plain old-fashioned ordinary sin...and I hate it, which means that often I also hate myself, and feel ashamed to be a member of the human race. Yet I also know (in large part THANKS to a healthy sense of shame and self-loathing) that "sin" and "hate" will NEVER be "conquered" by more of the same, and that the ONLY way to overcome them is through the Transforming Power of Love: through compassion, generosity, gratitude, trust, forgiveness, mercy, and random acts of kindness.
And yes, through Sacrifice. Like Jesus. Like Socrates. Like Abraham. A sacrifice which trusts the unknown mysterious power of a reality larger than ourselves, and submits to that reality in order to become at one with it. And yet, this act of self-sacrificing submission to the unknown is incredibly frightening and requires unbelievable courage...so much that often we tend to "chicken out," telling ourselves instead that it is irrational, illogical, naive, foolish and stupid...because (frankly) it is. Yet this is precisely the difference between "belief without evidence" and "a trust in the reality of things not seen." Because, let's face it: who could attempt this work of Ministry at all if we didn't believe in the Unseen Power of Transformative Love? And more to the point, why would we even want to try?
There are caveats, of course. There are always caveats. Being only human, there is naturally a dark side to our Love as well. When we allow our blind faith in the Transforming Power of Love to encourage and support the self-destructive addictive narcissism of others, we become enablers rather than healers. When we attempt to use the power of Love inappropriately to manipulate the behaviors and limit the freedom of others -- to keep them powerless and under control rather than allowing them to discover the liberating power of their own potential for transformation -- we become instruments of oppression rather than messengers of Good News. Not only must Justice be tempered with Mercy, we must also learn to temper our Mercy with Justice, to balance compassion with accountability. An honest sense of where we leave off and the other begins, together with a humble appreciation and acceptance of our own human limitations, create the kind of "healthy" boundaries which allow two souls to meet and touch, rather than fusing and becoming lost in one another. The slogan "hate the sin but love the sinner" has often been shamelessly twisted in horrible ways to justify all kinds of terrible treatment of our fellow human beings. Perhaps it is better merely to remember to "Judge Not, Lest Ye Be Judged," and to do unto others as we would have others do unto us....
What else do I believe? Well, I believe in Evil -- in cruelty, selfishness, deceit, deception, greed, avarice, lust, pride, gluttony, and all the rest -- believe in them because I see the evidence of them with my own two eyes almost every day. In a word, I believe in Sin. But not Original Sin; rather, just the plain old-fashioned ordinary sin...and I hate it, which means that often I also hate myself, and feel ashamed to be a member of the human race. Yet I also know (in large part THANKS to a healthy sense of shame and self-loathing) that "sin" and "hate" will NEVER be "conquered" by more of the same, and that the ONLY way to overcome them is through the Transforming Power of Love: through compassion, generosity, gratitude, trust, forgiveness, mercy, and random acts of kindness.
And yes, through Sacrifice. Like Jesus. Like Socrates. Like Abraham. A sacrifice which trusts the unknown mysterious power of a reality larger than ourselves, and submits to that reality in order to become at one with it. And yet, this act of self-sacrificing submission to the unknown is incredibly frightening and requires unbelievable courage...so much that often we tend to "chicken out," telling ourselves instead that it is irrational, illogical, naive, foolish and stupid...because (frankly) it is. Yet this is precisely the difference between "belief without evidence" and "a trust in the reality of things not seen." Because, let's face it: who could attempt this work of Ministry at all if we didn't believe in the Unseen Power of Transformative Love? And more to the point, why would we even want to try?
There are caveats, of course. There are always caveats. Being only human, there is naturally a dark side to our Love as well. When we allow our blind faith in the Transforming Power of Love to encourage and support the self-destructive addictive narcissism of others, we become enablers rather than healers. When we attempt to use the power of Love inappropriately to manipulate the behaviors and limit the freedom of others -- to keep them powerless and under control rather than allowing them to discover the liberating power of their own potential for transformation -- we become instruments of oppression rather than messengers of Good News. Not only must Justice be tempered with Mercy, we must also learn to temper our Mercy with Justice, to balance compassion with accountability. An honest sense of where we leave off and the other begins, together with a humble appreciation and acceptance of our own human limitations, create the kind of "healthy" boundaries which allow two souls to meet and touch, rather than fusing and becoming lost in one another. The slogan "hate the sin but love the sinner" has often been shamelessly twisted in horrible ways to justify all kinds of terrible treatment of our fellow human beings. Perhaps it is better merely to remember to "Judge Not, Lest Ye Be Judged," and to do unto others as we would have others do unto us....
Sunday, August 06, 2006
The Beatings Will Continue Until Morale Improves
First of all, let me just say right off the bat that the only thing I hate worse than whining clergy is being one of them myself. Ministers have the most magnificent job in the world, and simply because it is also impossibly difficult doesn't give us the right to complain. We are so privileged to be given the opportunity to do this work, and those of us who are lucky enough to be able to make an honest living doing it are even more fortunate.
Still, we're only human. None of us are perfect, and we all make mistakes...or at the very least decisions which in retrospect might have been better. And because of the visibility of our office, when our imperfections finally do reveal themselves we are also likely to hear about them. At some point in every ministry, the honeymoon is over and one begins to discover all of the various ways in which people have been disappointed by your multitude of limitations and shortcomings as a religious leader. As someone who has been through this process many times (and is going through it again even as you read this) here are some helpful hints for weathering the storm.
1) Don't Take it Personally. Trust me: everything that is being said about you now has been said about clergy from time immemorial. It just comes with the territory. We've all heard these same criticisms about ourselves, and we've all struggled to address them. There's even a technical term for it: Authenticity Testing -- you can learn all about it from the Alban Institute. No one EVER "masters" the "skills" of ministry -- it's the kind of vocation that will literally take everything you have to offer it, and still it won't be enough. So simply endeavor to do your very best, and know that you will get better in time.
2) Do Take it Seriously. It IS a test. But what is being tested is not so much your expertise as your character. People are trying to figure out whether or not they can trust you, and whether or not you care enough about them to take their concerns seriously. Often they are dissatisfied with their own experience of church, religion, spirituality -- and are hoping that you can somehow make it right for them. So take them seriously, because it's the only way you will ever get them to take YOU seriously.
3) Don't Become Offensive by Getting Defensive. Not even a little. Don't make excuses, don't try to explain: just listen carefully and empathetically, and try to draw them out a little more. Ask them if they can be more specific, or give you examples; ask them also about things they may have liked or that they think you've done well. (I once had to ease the mood of a particularly vocal meeting of critics by asking "have I done ANYTHING right since I got here?") Remember, it's not really about your shortcomings as a minister; it's about how you are coming up short as THEIR minister. So listen and learn.
4) Try right away to do something very visible and very tangible to let them know that you've heard their concerns and are trying to address them. If they complain about your sermons, enroll in a preaching seminar. It may not make you a better preacher overnight (we all eventually become better preachers with practice anyway), but at least it shows that you want to improve. If they feel like you don't really know them, or don't visit enough, make a point of at least trying to learn everyone's face and name, and of calling people by their name whenever you do see them. It takes a little effort, but it's not as much work as you might think. And take advantage of opportunities like you newsletter column to communicate your vision with the people you don't see in church every Sunday. It may not help you get to know them, but it will help them feel like they know you.
5) Cultivate some sort of personally meaningful devotional or contemplative practice. Anything you like, so long as it feeds your spirit and keeps you centered and focused, humble, grateful and generous, (Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty, Brave, Clean and Reverent...or whatever the equivalent Girl Scout values were). As I said earlier, this is incredible and amazing work we do, and we are incredibly luck to get to do it, but it is also amazingly difficult work, and will drain us to empty unless we find ways to renew our own sense of amazement and personal spiritual credibility.
6) Remember the difference between spiritual and secular cultures, and the so-called "speed of church." In the secular world, business leaders are advised to hit the ground running with a vision and a plan in place, to clear out the deadwood and promote their own people, and to try to show a positive impact to the bottom line in the first 90 days by adding value, solving problems, improving efficiency and creating new opportunities for growth. The "old school" conventional wisdom for ministry was not to change anything in the first year, and that it is only after seven years with the same congregation that clergy truly come into their own as effective leaders. In a church, anything less than three years is considered a "failed ministry" (or, more kindly, a "mismatch" or "involuntary interim"). In business, more than two or three years in the same job and you are off the "fast-track" and "in a rut." These paradigms are both shifting a little, but both clergy and laity who are familiar with business culture can find the speed of church unbelievably frustrating. And although it seems a little counter-intuitive, smaller churches actually change LESS quickly than larger ones, which again can be frustrating to recently-ordained ministers eager to try out all of their new and innovative ideas on an actual congregation. But resisting all the young ministers and their new ideas that have come down the pike every two or three years is how these congregations have survived (in some cases) for two or three centuries. Yet even as you feel you are beating YOUR head against the wall, remember that there are OTHER people in the congregation who are frustrated with YOU for not moving more quickly. Why does it take seven years for a minister to become effective? Because that's how long it generally seems to take for the change-resistant people to trust the new minister enough to move to the sidelines, and allow a new team of leaders who share the ministers vision to step up. It can be a difficult path to navigate, I know. But the authority of a minister is different from the authority of a manager. We lead through trust, authenticity, inspiration, encouragement, a shared sense of commitment to a common vision, and the desire to forge profoundly meaningful relationships with our people, our vocation, and the transcendent. Managers often lead solely through the incentive of promotion and the threat of termination. Yes, I know how tempting it can be to want to fire half the congregation and bring in your own people But the good news is that even business leaders are starting to move away from the carrot and the stick, and discovering the value of shared inspiration and a compelling vision.
* a note on the title. I saw this phrase printed on the back of a tee-shirt in a Nantucket tee-shirt shop last week, and it made me laugh out loud... Haven't enjoyed a tee-shirt so much since the classic "Hellfire and Dalmations" shirt of the Hot Springs Convo....
Still, we're only human. None of us are perfect, and we all make mistakes...or at the very least decisions which in retrospect might have been better. And because of the visibility of our office, when our imperfections finally do reveal themselves we are also likely to hear about them. At some point in every ministry, the honeymoon is over and one begins to discover all of the various ways in which people have been disappointed by your multitude of limitations and shortcomings as a religious leader. As someone who has been through this process many times (and is going through it again even as you read this) here are some helpful hints for weathering the storm.
1) Don't Take it Personally. Trust me: everything that is being said about you now has been said about clergy from time immemorial. It just comes with the territory. We've all heard these same criticisms about ourselves, and we've all struggled to address them. There's even a technical term for it: Authenticity Testing -- you can learn all about it from the Alban Institute. No one EVER "masters" the "skills" of ministry -- it's the kind of vocation that will literally take everything you have to offer it, and still it won't be enough. So simply endeavor to do your very best, and know that you will get better in time.
2) Do Take it Seriously. It IS a test. But what is being tested is not so much your expertise as your character. People are trying to figure out whether or not they can trust you, and whether or not you care enough about them to take their concerns seriously. Often they are dissatisfied with their own experience of church, religion, spirituality -- and are hoping that you can somehow make it right for them. So take them seriously, because it's the only way you will ever get them to take YOU seriously.
3) Don't Become Offensive by Getting Defensive. Not even a little. Don't make excuses, don't try to explain: just listen carefully and empathetically, and try to draw them out a little more. Ask them if they can be more specific, or give you examples; ask them also about things they may have liked or that they think you've done well. (I once had to ease the mood of a particularly vocal meeting of critics by asking "have I done ANYTHING right since I got here?") Remember, it's not really about your shortcomings as a minister; it's about how you are coming up short as THEIR minister. So listen and learn.
4) Try right away to do something very visible and very tangible to let them know that you've heard their concerns and are trying to address them. If they complain about your sermons, enroll in a preaching seminar. It may not make you a better preacher overnight (we all eventually become better preachers with practice anyway), but at least it shows that you want to improve. If they feel like you don't really know them, or don't visit enough, make a point of at least trying to learn everyone's face and name, and of calling people by their name whenever you do see them. It takes a little effort, but it's not as much work as you might think. And take advantage of opportunities like you newsletter column to communicate your vision with the people you don't see in church every Sunday. It may not help you get to know them, but it will help them feel like they know you.
5) Cultivate some sort of personally meaningful devotional or contemplative practice. Anything you like, so long as it feeds your spirit and keeps you centered and focused, humble, grateful and generous, (Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty, Brave, Clean and Reverent...or whatever the equivalent Girl Scout values were). As I said earlier, this is incredible and amazing work we do, and we are incredibly luck to get to do it, but it is also amazingly difficult work, and will drain us to empty unless we find ways to renew our own sense of amazement and personal spiritual credibility.
6) Remember the difference between spiritual and secular cultures, and the so-called "speed of church." In the secular world, business leaders are advised to hit the ground running with a vision and a plan in place, to clear out the deadwood and promote their own people, and to try to show a positive impact to the bottom line in the first 90 days by adding value, solving problems, improving efficiency and creating new opportunities for growth. The "old school" conventional wisdom for ministry was not to change anything in the first year, and that it is only after seven years with the same congregation that clergy truly come into their own as effective leaders. In a church, anything less than three years is considered a "failed ministry" (or, more kindly, a "mismatch" or "involuntary interim"). In business, more than two or three years in the same job and you are off the "fast-track" and "in a rut." These paradigms are both shifting a little, but both clergy and laity who are familiar with business culture can find the speed of church unbelievably frustrating. And although it seems a little counter-intuitive, smaller churches actually change LESS quickly than larger ones, which again can be frustrating to recently-ordained ministers eager to try out all of their new and innovative ideas on an actual congregation. But resisting all the young ministers and their new ideas that have come down the pike every two or three years is how these congregations have survived (in some cases) for two or three centuries. Yet even as you feel you are beating YOUR head against the wall, remember that there are OTHER people in the congregation who are frustrated with YOU for not moving more quickly. Why does it take seven years for a minister to become effective? Because that's how long it generally seems to take for the change-resistant people to trust the new minister enough to move to the sidelines, and allow a new team of leaders who share the ministers vision to step up. It can be a difficult path to navigate, I know. But the authority of a minister is different from the authority of a manager. We lead through trust, authenticity, inspiration, encouragement, a shared sense of commitment to a common vision, and the desire to forge profoundly meaningful relationships with our people, our vocation, and the transcendent. Managers often lead solely through the incentive of promotion and the threat of termination. Yes, I know how tempting it can be to want to fire half the congregation and bring in your own people But the good news is that even business leaders are starting to move away from the carrot and the stick, and discovering the value of shared inspiration and a compelling vision.
* a note on the title. I saw this phrase printed on the back of a tee-shirt in a Nantucket tee-shirt shop last week, and it made me laugh out loud... Haven't enjoyed a tee-shirt so much since the classic "Hellfire and Dalmations" shirt of the Hot Springs Convo....
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Washed Ashore (and Back Again)
Just got back from a ten-day vacation on Nantucket, where I served two years as an interim minister before being called here to Carlisle in 2003. The Island is lousy with clergy this time of year: visited with my successor, my predecessor, two Island colleagues from other denominations (Methodist and Episcopal), the visiting "summer" minister (who arrived while I was there to fill in for the current minister while she and her son enjoy a little well-deserved vacation OFF-Island), plus a former intern of the minister emeritus, who had come to the Island to reconnect with HER call before heading off for what promises to be a difficult interim ministry in Eugene, Oregon -- the city where I earned my PhD. So the old saw about whether our movement is best understood as a small religious denomination or a large extended family remains intact.
For me this was supposed to be a "real" holiday -- didn't even bring a pair of long pants (which was actually a packing mistake, but worked out OK) and had no intention of doing anything even remotely "ministerial" -- yet even so, everywhere I went I was introduced as "our former minister," "our interim minister" "the guy who used to be our minister" and the like. Eventually I just started describing myself as "the Temp," which seemed to go over pretty well. Yet once again I was reminded that ministry is a vocation that depends as much on who we are as what we do -- and that (like it or not) we remain ministers in the eyes of others even when we are not actually "doing" ministry.
I love it on the Island -- felt at home there in a way I have rarely felt anywhere else, especially in the dead of winter when the weather closes in and the rest of the world "off-Island" fades into obscure insignificance. But after two years there, I also knew that it was time to move on -- that like Brigadoon or Shangri-la, Nantucket has a way of making time disappear and leaving little to show for it other than enduring friendships and fading memories...which are generally considered good things, but which (as Odysseus discovered in the arms of Circe) have an addictive, dreamlike quality that can easily consume all other considerations.
In any event, left for the Island in a bit of a hurry, playing cat and mouse with boat schedules and a tropical storm...and returned to discover that in my haste to depart I had left my refrigerator door slightly ajar, which meant that much of my first night back home I spent throwing out spoiled food and cleaning up a puddle of warm water from my kitchen floor. Thursday I begin my career development consultation in Dedham -- the "25 year check-up" which was part of the original inspiration for this blog to begin with. Meanwhile, I've got a week's worth of work to catch up on in the next two days...and the "excessive heat warning" here in "America" begins at noon....
For me this was supposed to be a "real" holiday -- didn't even bring a pair of long pants (which was actually a packing mistake, but worked out OK) and had no intention of doing anything even remotely "ministerial" -- yet even so, everywhere I went I was introduced as "our former minister," "our interim minister" "the guy who used to be our minister" and the like. Eventually I just started describing myself as "the Temp," which seemed to go over pretty well. Yet once again I was reminded that ministry is a vocation that depends as much on who we are as what we do -- and that (like it or not) we remain ministers in the eyes of others even when we are not actually "doing" ministry.
I love it on the Island -- felt at home there in a way I have rarely felt anywhere else, especially in the dead of winter when the weather closes in and the rest of the world "off-Island" fades into obscure insignificance. But after two years there, I also knew that it was time to move on -- that like Brigadoon or Shangri-la, Nantucket has a way of making time disappear and leaving little to show for it other than enduring friendships and fading memories...which are generally considered good things, but which (as Odysseus discovered in the arms of Circe) have an addictive, dreamlike quality that can easily consume all other considerations.
In any event, left for the Island in a bit of a hurry, playing cat and mouse with boat schedules and a tropical storm...and returned to discover that in my haste to depart I had left my refrigerator door slightly ajar, which meant that much of my first night back home I spent throwing out spoiled food and cleaning up a puddle of warm water from my kitchen floor. Thursday I begin my career development consultation in Dedham -- the "25 year check-up" which was part of the original inspiration for this blog to begin with. Meanwhile, I've got a week's worth of work to catch up on in the next two days...and the "excessive heat warning" here in "America" begins at noon....
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
More Nails and a Bigger Hammer...
OK, first of all just let me say that I'm actually a big fan of the Big Dig. But I have the unusual experience of having left Boston in 1981 (just before it all got started) and returning again in 2003 (when the project was basically finished, if not completed). So I managed to miss most of the hassle and expense and controversy surrounding its construction, and simply get to compare "Before" and "After." And let me tell you, After is way better. Never mind how much easier it is to get in and out of the airport (not that I go to the airport that often anyway; and when I do, I still generally take the Blue Line when I can...or, better yet, ride the commuter rail into North Station, and then the water taxi to Logan). But even unfinished, the Rose Kennedy Greenway is a HUGE improvement over the John Fitzgerald Expressway. Even though the improved access has threatened to turn the entire North End into a giant summer frat party.
Over the past year or so, persistent water leaks in the various tunnels running under Boston Harbor have been a matter of great embarrassment for Big Dig Big Wigs, and likewise a matter of no little concern for those of us for whom the claustaphobic image of being drowned in our automobiles while simultaneously trapped and buried deep underground is just a little too vivid for comfort. And now comes an even more tangible danger: apparently the glue (that's right, epoxy is a glue) used to hold the three TON concrete ceiling panels to the ceiling of the tunnel isn't quite up to the job. Four of these panels have already come loose, killing a young woman in the process, and the subsequent political kerfuffle, blame passing, and finger pointing have risen to national proportions (mostly, it seems, because Republican Governor Mitt Romney has Presidential political aspirations, and is looking for an opportunity to appear strong and decisive by crucifying a scapegoat and then washing his hands of the matter).
But here's the thing that kills me. What is the proposed solution to this complicated engineering problem? Something worthy of my grandmother -- Basically, the governor's commission is recommending creating "redundancy" in the system by reinforcing the existing epoxied connectors with high tech hanger bolts similar to what one might use to hang a picture frame on dry wall. That's right: more nails and a bigger hammer. Damn! I KNEW I should have been an engineer....
Over the past year or so, persistent water leaks in the various tunnels running under Boston Harbor have been a matter of great embarrassment for Big Dig Big Wigs, and likewise a matter of no little concern for those of us for whom the claustaphobic image of being drowned in our automobiles while simultaneously trapped and buried deep underground is just a little too vivid for comfort. And now comes an even more tangible danger: apparently the glue (that's right, epoxy is a glue) used to hold the three TON concrete ceiling panels to the ceiling of the tunnel isn't quite up to the job. Four of these panels have already come loose, killing a young woman in the process, and the subsequent political kerfuffle, blame passing, and finger pointing have risen to national proportions (mostly, it seems, because Republican Governor Mitt Romney has Presidential political aspirations, and is looking for an opportunity to appear strong and decisive by crucifying a scapegoat and then washing his hands of the matter).
But here's the thing that kills me. What is the proposed solution to this complicated engineering problem? Something worthy of my grandmother -- Basically, the governor's commission is recommending creating "redundancy" in the system by reinforcing the existing epoxied connectors with high tech hanger bolts similar to what one might use to hang a picture frame on dry wall. That's right: more nails and a bigger hammer. Damn! I KNEW I should have been an engineer....
Friday, July 14, 2006
For Whom the Bell Tolls
It's been raining furiously here the past few days, including buckets of hail...a perfect excuse for staying indoors and killing time with a good book. Or a good blog....
The current quotation in the Wayside Pulpit on the town green in front of the FRS Meetinghouse is a Danish Proverb: "A good example is like a bell that calls many to church." For five years now, first on Nantucket and now here in Carlisle, I've slept beneath a church bell that rings the hour all through the night. It never wakes me, nor keeps me awake...although it does sometimes remind me that I've stayed up reading well past my bedtime, or (more often) that even though I'm already awake I'm free to linger in bed for another hour before I need to get up and begin a new day.
On Nantucket, the clock was linked by GPS to the Royal Navel Observatory in Greenwich, England...which meant that it was accurate to within a thousandth of a second (or some absurdly small number). And beneath my bedroom window on Fair Street was the Meridian Line which Mariah Mitchell's father used to "true" the compasses of the Nantucket Whalers before they weighed anchor on their three-year voyages to the South Seas. So I always pretty much knew exactly where and when I was in the Universe. Or at least which way was "up."
Here in Carlisle, we do things the old fashioned way...with a mechanical clock, as well as a fire horn that sounds each day at noon -- sometimes (although not often) even as the bell is tolling. Of course, if we were truly "old school" we would simply wait until the sun was directly overhead and "make it noon." But the invention of Standard Time (in the 19th century) and Daylight Savings Time (in the 20th) pretty much put an end to that practice once and for all. Except, of course, at sea, where (at least until the widespread availability of GPS) the noon observation was the critical datapoint in determining one's latitude and longitude.
The Nantucket church bell was cast in Portugal and hidden from the British during the War of 1812 so that it wouldn't be stolen and melted down into...well, something martial. In addition to striking the hour, it also rings 52 times at 7 am, 12 noon, and 9 pm. These 52 rings (colloquially known On Island as "the fifty-twos") last precisely 3 minutes, and are also controlled by a computer chip, although originally 52 rings was simply a convenient way of measuring three minutes, and were intended to let Islanders know a) when it was time to get up, b) when it was time to break for lunch, and c) when it was time to go home to bed. Kids who grew up (or even "summered") on the island a generation ago often speak of how the tolling of the bell signaled their evening curfew...when they first heard it strike they basically had three minutes (or until the bell stopped tolling) to be home and under the watchful eyes of their parents again.
I don't really know that much about the history of the Carlisle bell, except that (as on Nantucket) the bell belongs to the church but the clock belongs to the town...a marriage of convenience between church and state, which in some ways mirrors our joint stewardship of the town common. When I first arrived here I initiated (or perhaps re-established) the practice of inviting children from the congregation to ring the bell before church on Sundays to signal the start of our 10:30 service. This was one of three small "innovations" I made to the service early in my tenure here (the other two being a 90 second "peace" greeting following the announcements, and eliminating the practice of announcing the titles or topics of my sermons in advance) and the only one which has survived the notoriously stiff-necked, hide-bound conservatism of long-established New England small town small church traditionalism (since the kids do love it so).
Another thing I've learned is that there are basically two ways to ring a bell: you can strike it, or you can swing it. When the town clock chimes the hour, it basically strikes the outside of the stationary bell with a mechanical hammer -- one strike for every sound. But when the kids ring the bell to summon people to church (or rather, to let them know that they are late) they pull on a bellrope which moves the bell and causes the suspended clapper to strike against the inside of the bell. One thing you NEVER want to do is both of these things at the same time, since allowing the mechanical hammer to attempt to strike a moving bell is definitely NOT a good idea. Just a little safety tip, in case you ever find yourself in that position.
When I first started writing this post (yesterday morning), I had intended to continue my little rumination regarding the respective qualities of the church and the military as institutions of social advancement and social control. But naturally, tempus fugit (or perhaps I should say, tempest fugit), and now I find I have more pressing demands on my time. So I guess if you really want to see what I have to say on that subject you may have to wait another day. Or two. Or maybe three.... Ask not for whom the bell tolls my friends. It tolls for us all....
The current quotation in the Wayside Pulpit on the town green in front of the FRS Meetinghouse is a Danish Proverb: "A good example is like a bell that calls many to church." For five years now, first on Nantucket and now here in Carlisle, I've slept beneath a church bell that rings the hour all through the night. It never wakes me, nor keeps me awake...although it does sometimes remind me that I've stayed up reading well past my bedtime, or (more often) that even though I'm already awake I'm free to linger in bed for another hour before I need to get up and begin a new day.
On Nantucket, the clock was linked by GPS to the Royal Navel Observatory in Greenwich, England...which meant that it was accurate to within a thousandth of a second (or some absurdly small number). And beneath my bedroom window on Fair Street was the Meridian Line which Mariah Mitchell's father used to "true" the compasses of the Nantucket Whalers before they weighed anchor on their three-year voyages to the South Seas. So I always pretty much knew exactly where and when I was in the Universe. Or at least which way was "up."
Here in Carlisle, we do things the old fashioned way...with a mechanical clock, as well as a fire horn that sounds each day at noon -- sometimes (although not often) even as the bell is tolling. Of course, if we were truly "old school" we would simply wait until the sun was directly overhead and "make it noon." But the invention of Standard Time (in the 19th century) and Daylight Savings Time (in the 20th) pretty much put an end to that practice once and for all. Except, of course, at sea, where (at least until the widespread availability of GPS) the noon observation was the critical datapoint in determining one's latitude and longitude.
The Nantucket church bell was cast in Portugal and hidden from the British during the War of 1812 so that it wouldn't be stolen and melted down into...well, something martial. In addition to striking the hour, it also rings 52 times at 7 am, 12 noon, and 9 pm. These 52 rings (colloquially known On Island as "the fifty-twos") last precisely 3 minutes, and are also controlled by a computer chip, although originally 52 rings was simply a convenient way of measuring three minutes, and were intended to let Islanders know a) when it was time to get up, b) when it was time to break for lunch, and c) when it was time to go home to bed. Kids who grew up (or even "summered") on the island a generation ago often speak of how the tolling of the bell signaled their evening curfew...when they first heard it strike they basically had three minutes (or until the bell stopped tolling) to be home and under the watchful eyes of their parents again.
I don't really know that much about the history of the Carlisle bell, except that (as on Nantucket) the bell belongs to the church but the clock belongs to the town...a marriage of convenience between church and state, which in some ways mirrors our joint stewardship of the town common. When I first arrived here I initiated (or perhaps re-established) the practice of inviting children from the congregation to ring the bell before church on Sundays to signal the start of our 10:30 service. This was one of three small "innovations" I made to the service early in my tenure here (the other two being a 90 second "peace" greeting following the announcements, and eliminating the practice of announcing the titles or topics of my sermons in advance) and the only one which has survived the notoriously stiff-necked, hide-bound conservatism of long-established New England small town small church traditionalism (since the kids do love it so).
Another thing I've learned is that there are basically two ways to ring a bell: you can strike it, or you can swing it. When the town clock chimes the hour, it basically strikes the outside of the stationary bell with a mechanical hammer -- one strike for every sound. But when the kids ring the bell to summon people to church (or rather, to let them know that they are late) they pull on a bellrope which moves the bell and causes the suspended clapper to strike against the inside of the bell. One thing you NEVER want to do is both of these things at the same time, since allowing the mechanical hammer to attempt to strike a moving bell is definitely NOT a good idea. Just a little safety tip, in case you ever find yourself in that position.
When I first started writing this post (yesterday morning), I had intended to continue my little rumination regarding the respective qualities of the church and the military as institutions of social advancement and social control. But naturally, tempus fugit (or perhaps I should say, tempest fugit), and now I find I have more pressing demands on my time. So I guess if you really want to see what I have to say on that subject you may have to wait another day. Or two. Or maybe three.... Ask not for whom the bell tolls my friends. It tolls for us all....
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Innocence and Experience
Here's a quotation from Captain Andrew Exum's memoir of his 2003 combat tour in Afghanistan, *This Man's Army.*
We speak of innocence like it is something to be "lost" only in tragedy, something we should do our best to hold on to no matter what. But what if innocence is something to be shed as we get older and wiser, an outer layer of skin that protects us when we are young but ultimately keeps us from seeing the world as it is?
I no longer wander in the dark as I once did. I feel I know better what the world is really like having seen what I have seen, and I stand now ready to face its realities not out of ignorance but with a calloused knowledge.
***
I've sometimes had occasion to revisit the wisdom of my own youthful choice to follow the way of the Shaman rather than the way of the Warrior. God only knows how I got so smart so young -- or maybe it was just innocence, naivete, and a bit of dumb luck. And yet I still wonder: is it truly "superior" to live one's life seeking divine inspiration rather than cultivating personal courage, or to desire humility and inner peace rather than a glorious and triumphant victory over one's enemies? Is it better to become an empathetic yet imperfect healer than a ruthless and efficient killer?
Of course these are just stereotypes: soldiers are often deeply inspired by and devoted to a commitment to something larger than themselves, while clergy are often called to perform courageously in the face of overwhelming physical, emotional and spiritual danger. Both vocations require profound personal sacrifice, and flourish under proper discipline and leadership. Both professions have traditionally demanded service in faraway foreign lands, provided early, first-hand exposure to the grim reality of death, and are grounded in the principle that "the mission comes first." In addition to personal courage, military "values" include loyalty, duty, respect, honor, integrity, and selfless service. Can one possibly be a minister without these?
Yet military service is by necessity principally an occupation for young men; the physical demands of combat are simply too demanding for anyone else. Or perhaps it's just that they are too demanding for anyone, period, and that young men (especially those of a certain class or color) are considered the most sociological "expendable" and therefore most easily sacrificed to societally-sanctioned violence. Ministry, on the other hand (at least in my neck of the woods), is increasingly a second vocation for women "of a certain age," who perhaps are seeking a greater meaning and influence in their lives than they have known previously.
History is full of examples of individuals who have gone from soldiering to the priesthood (Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits, being among the best known); off the top of my head, I can't think of anyone who went in the other direction. I'm sure they're out there somewhere -- although I suspect also there may have been "exigent circumstances."
But I ramble...and one of my new resolutions is to make shorter posts. So Amen and Huah! (or if you prefer, Jarhead, Ooh-Rah!) And go with God....
We speak of innocence like it is something to be "lost" only in tragedy, something we should do our best to hold on to no matter what. But what if innocence is something to be shed as we get older and wiser, an outer layer of skin that protects us when we are young but ultimately keeps us from seeing the world as it is?
I no longer wander in the dark as I once did. I feel I know better what the world is really like having seen what I have seen, and I stand now ready to face its realities not out of ignorance but with a calloused knowledge.
***
I've sometimes had occasion to revisit the wisdom of my own youthful choice to follow the way of the Shaman rather than the way of the Warrior. God only knows how I got so smart so young -- or maybe it was just innocence, naivete, and a bit of dumb luck. And yet I still wonder: is it truly "superior" to live one's life seeking divine inspiration rather than cultivating personal courage, or to desire humility and inner peace rather than a glorious and triumphant victory over one's enemies? Is it better to become an empathetic yet imperfect healer than a ruthless and efficient killer?
Of course these are just stereotypes: soldiers are often deeply inspired by and devoted to a commitment to something larger than themselves, while clergy are often called to perform courageously in the face of overwhelming physical, emotional and spiritual danger. Both vocations require profound personal sacrifice, and flourish under proper discipline and leadership. Both professions have traditionally demanded service in faraway foreign lands, provided early, first-hand exposure to the grim reality of death, and are grounded in the principle that "the mission comes first." In addition to personal courage, military "values" include loyalty, duty, respect, honor, integrity, and selfless service. Can one possibly be a minister without these?
Yet military service is by necessity principally an occupation for young men; the physical demands of combat are simply too demanding for anyone else. Or perhaps it's just that they are too demanding for anyone, period, and that young men (especially those of a certain class or color) are considered the most sociological "expendable" and therefore most easily sacrificed to societally-sanctioned violence. Ministry, on the other hand (at least in my neck of the woods), is increasingly a second vocation for women "of a certain age," who perhaps are seeking a greater meaning and influence in their lives than they have known previously.
History is full of examples of individuals who have gone from soldiering to the priesthood (Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits, being among the best known); off the top of my head, I can't think of anyone who went in the other direction. I'm sure they're out there somewhere -- although I suspect also there may have been "exigent circumstances."
But I ramble...and one of my new resolutions is to make shorter posts. So Amen and Huah! (or if you prefer, Jarhead, Ooh-Rah!) And go with God....
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Independence Day
Spent a good portion of the Fourth of July weekend here in town at something called "Old Home Day" -- a celebration of small town life which includes a free pancake breakfast (at the Congregational Church), a parade, the annual Friends of the Library booksale, a chicken BBQ at the firehouse, a cakewalk at Town Hall, and an ice cream social at the ballpark. This year I was one of the parade judges (along with the town's new Police Chief and a representative Selectman), which was a big step up from my first-year assignment in the dunking booth. Never again! My whole body still tightens up like Pavlov's drowned rat every time I hear a baseball strike metal.
Spent the actual Fourth itself visiting my brother in Connecticut, where my father was also visiting for a week from California. My dad is a pretty smart guy, and over the years he's gotten a lot of credit for being even smarter than he is, since every time I hear something wise and sagacious that I want to quote publicly, I tend to attribute it to him (regardless of where I may have originally heard it). Devoted a lot of our time to swimming in my brother's pool, and talking about "boat fever" -- this strange, stubborn Scandinavian midlife compulsion I feel to buy and own a sailboat. This is something that I've been daydreaming about ever since I first learned to sail as a kid, so much so that I have even started to organize the rest of my life around it.
Whenever I take time to think seriously about my career, Plan "A" is always to keep on moving straight Ahead: Adjust, Accommodate, and Adapt until everything is going just the way I want it to. Life is rarely a direct, linear path from Point A to Point B, but as long as you know where you are and where you want to go, the first option ought to be to get there as directly as possible.
Plan "B" is generally to Bail Out, and move on to something Better. Sometimes our plans are thwarted, and we need to regroup and reconsider our options. Sticking with a failing plan until you "crash and burn" is rarely the best option, regardless of what the President may have had to say to the friends, families and colleagues of our Iraqi War casualties. Notwithstanding all the recent debate surrounding "cut and run" it's easy to overlook the fact that sometimes the winning strategy is a tactical retreat in order to regain the initiative, so that you can successfully approach your objective from another, more viable direction.
And finally, Plan "C" is basically to buy a boat and run away to Sea.... At bottom it's a Thoreauvian thing: simplify your life by getting rid of your superfluous stuff, and in doing so find the freedom to travel anywhere in the world...or at least anywhere touched by wind and at least six feet of navigable water. It may sound like mere escapism, and maybe it is. But I know I'm not the only human being who has ever felt this way. And some of them have actually weighed anchor and set sail.
Of course others (like Thoreau himself) have settled for being "widely traveled in Concord." Our sense of freedom really comes from the feeling that one free to determine their own destination, and thus their own destiny. It is an experience of liberation born of true "liberty" -- the knowledge/wisdom to set a course that suits us, and the ability/means to follow it. It's not REALLY about the boat. It's what the boat represents -- the freedom to change course as our desires change, and a vessel capable of carrying us wherever our hearts desire.
My father's take on all this was to contribute an enigmatic quotation: "Change may not bring about a better condition, but things will NEVER get better until they change" And then he provided a list of his own: Patience, Persistence, Performance. How do we achieve the change we dream of? First, we remain Patient: we allow things to develop in the fullness of time, rather than letting our own impatience get the best of us by tempting us to give up prematurely. But we must also be Persistent: keeping our goals in sight, and working toward them at every opportunity. And finally Performance: as we've all heard so many times, life is not a dress rehearsal; it requires that we deliver our very best every time we step out "on stage."
I'm still probably at least two years way from buying a "hole in the water into which I pour money," and it may be a decade or more before I actually feel ready to sail away into the sunrise. I may NEVER actually do any of this, no matter how much I may daydream about someday casting off. But the realization that "Plan C" is always out there makes Plans "A" and "B" that much more manageable in my mind. And that's the kind of Independence I've learned to cherish.
Spent the actual Fourth itself visiting my brother in Connecticut, where my father was also visiting for a week from California. My dad is a pretty smart guy, and over the years he's gotten a lot of credit for being even smarter than he is, since every time I hear something wise and sagacious that I want to quote publicly, I tend to attribute it to him (regardless of where I may have originally heard it). Devoted a lot of our time to swimming in my brother's pool, and talking about "boat fever" -- this strange, stubborn Scandinavian midlife compulsion I feel to buy and own a sailboat. This is something that I've been daydreaming about ever since I first learned to sail as a kid, so much so that I have even started to organize the rest of my life around it.
Whenever I take time to think seriously about my career, Plan "A" is always to keep on moving straight Ahead: Adjust, Accommodate, and Adapt until everything is going just the way I want it to. Life is rarely a direct, linear path from Point A to Point B, but as long as you know where you are and where you want to go, the first option ought to be to get there as directly as possible.
Plan "B" is generally to Bail Out, and move on to something Better. Sometimes our plans are thwarted, and we need to regroup and reconsider our options. Sticking with a failing plan until you "crash and burn" is rarely the best option, regardless of what the President may have had to say to the friends, families and colleagues of our Iraqi War casualties. Notwithstanding all the recent debate surrounding "cut and run" it's easy to overlook the fact that sometimes the winning strategy is a tactical retreat in order to regain the initiative, so that you can successfully approach your objective from another, more viable direction.
And finally, Plan "C" is basically to buy a boat and run away to Sea.... At bottom it's a Thoreauvian thing: simplify your life by getting rid of your superfluous stuff, and in doing so find the freedom to travel anywhere in the world...or at least anywhere touched by wind and at least six feet of navigable water. It may sound like mere escapism, and maybe it is. But I know I'm not the only human being who has ever felt this way. And some of them have actually weighed anchor and set sail.
Of course others (like Thoreau himself) have settled for being "widely traveled in Concord." Our sense of freedom really comes from the feeling that one free to determine their own destination, and thus their own destiny. It is an experience of liberation born of true "liberty" -- the knowledge/wisdom to set a course that suits us, and the ability/means to follow it. It's not REALLY about the boat. It's what the boat represents -- the freedom to change course as our desires change, and a vessel capable of carrying us wherever our hearts desire.
My father's take on all this was to contribute an enigmatic quotation: "Change may not bring about a better condition, but things will NEVER get better until they change" And then he provided a list of his own: Patience, Persistence, Performance. How do we achieve the change we dream of? First, we remain Patient: we allow things to develop in the fullness of time, rather than letting our own impatience get the best of us by tempting us to give up prematurely. But we must also be Persistent: keeping our goals in sight, and working toward them at every opportunity. And finally Performance: as we've all heard so many times, life is not a dress rehearsal; it requires that we deliver our very best every time we step out "on stage."
I'm still probably at least two years way from buying a "hole in the water into which I pour money," and it may be a decade or more before I actually feel ready to sail away into the sunrise. I may NEVER actually do any of this, no matter how much I may daydream about someday casting off. But the realization that "Plan C" is always out there makes Plans "A" and "B" that much more manageable in my mind. And that's the kind of Independence I've learned to cherish.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Shockin' Odd!
So I'm taking this test called the "16 PF" in preparation for my 25th anniversary visit to the Center for Career Development & Ministry in a couple of months, and I come to this question along the lines of: "If you worked for a newspaper, would your rather write: a) movie or book reviews b) ? c) articles about sports or politics." So I'm all ready to check option "a" (and thinking "what a no-brainer") until it occurs to me that if I'm so keen on writing book and movie reviews, what am I doing blogging about sports and politics, both of which I write about routinely in the guise of blogging about religion?
Believe it or not, this sudden and unexpected moment of insight cast a lot of light on an earlier question too, which asked whether I would rather get my physical exercise by: a) fencing or dancing b) ? c) wrestling or baseball. Had to go with option "b" there -- since I think at age 50 I would much rather dance than wrestle (not that I'm much of a dancer); but would also prefer to play baseball instead of fencing...although it would be cool to fence too if I actually knew what I was doing, and of course by baseball I really mean softball, since there's no way I could hit real pitching any more. Couldn't really hit it that well when I was 16 either....
But what the heck is this question all about anyway? Perhaps whether I would REALLY rather be: a) some sort of 19th-century Victorian gentleman b) ? c) a red-blooded, all-American boy from the 1950's....
The most truly enlightening question of the day was #111. True or False: "Sometimes I get so lost in my thoughts that, unless I watch out, I misplace things, have small mishaps, or lose track of time...."
HELLO! Sometimes? This is my LIFESTYLE....
So now I have to wait until August to find out from my career counselor what kind of professional vocation is most appropriate for the perennially absent-minded: parish ministry, traditional academia, or perhaps something completely different I haven't really thought that much about yet (like writing a syndicated newspaper column reviewing books and movies about sports and politics)....
In the meantime, while I'm still waiting (and lost in thought), can you BELIEVE what's been going on around here lately?
First of all, God Save this (thank God) still Honorable Supreme Court, which decided 5-3 today that Baby Bush's hip pocket kangaroo military tribunals were basically illegal under whatever legal standard foreign or domestic one might choose to compare them to. The shocking part is that there were four justices (including Chief Justice John Roberts, who recused himself because he had already written an opinion on this case as an Appeals Court judge) who saw things the other way. Under the guise of playing Commander in Chief, Dubya has assumed for himself sweeping "executive" powers which mock the Constitution, and pose a far greater threat to our traditional liberties than anything some ragged terrorist huddling in a cave might possibly dream of.
I just pray that the President's God-given sense of divine right and destiny doesn't tempt him at some point simply to ignore the decision of the Court and do whatever he goddamned pleases anyway. After all, this isn't just a war -- it's a Crusade. And how can you have a decent Crusade without an Inquisition?
Which brings me to the acrimonious partisan political debate over "Cut and Run." There were some of us who thought at the time that this whole idea of "Operation Iraqi Freedom" was a bad idea [check out my April 13, 2003 sermon "A Busted Flush?" at http://eclectic-cleric-ack.blogspot.com to begin with], but we don't have the luxury now of dealing with "what might have been." Instead we have to make decisions based on the reality of "right now."
Still, it doesn't hurt to look back at how we got into this mess in the first place. After initially ridiculing the previous administration for its feeble attempts at "nation building" and declaring "I'm not going to fire a $2 million missile at a $10 empty tent and hit a camel in the butt," Bush then ignored an August 6th, 2001 CIA briefing warning him "Bin Laden Determined to Strike in US." Only one month later we were all horribly surprised when Al-Qaida launched just such a devastating attack on September 11th.
Knowing he'd been caught with his pants down (and wanting to keep that fact a secret from the rest of us), Bush vowed "to bring the terrorists to justice, or bring justice to the terrorists." But already he was scheming to take advantage of our national anger over 9/11 to settle lingering old scores with Saddam Hussein left over from his Daddy's administration, and to snatch the Iraqi oil fields for his Petroleum Club cronies in the process. And so we were all subjected to "sexed-up" intelligence about "Weapons of Mass Destruction" as the Young Pretender whipped up as much righteous patriotic anger as he could in order to mislead our nation into an unnecessary (and frankly, unjustified) war.
This is not revisionist history. This is just another "inconvenient truth" based on embarrassing facts which the Bushies would just as soon we all ignore or forgot.
In any event, our soldiers won a stunning military victory in the desert, only to see the avaricious arrogance of politicians, mercenaries, and war profiteers pervert our soldiers' triumph into the mess we have now. The President put on his costume and landed on an aircraft carrier to declare "mission accomplished," but three years later Osama bin Laden is still at large, and our army still occupies two foreign countries, where the casualties keep mounting: more than 2500 killed, perhaps ten times that number wounded, plus tens of thousands more "psychological casualties" and hundreds of billions of dollars squandered. Blood and Treasure -- the currency of warfare never really changes.
But what do we have to show for the sacrifice of our brave troops?
And where is the PLAN, at least, to bring them home again?
There's more. Our nation ostensibly invaded Iraq in order to protect ourselves from "WMDs" -- Atomic, Biological, and Chemical weapons capable of killing thousands of people in a single stroke. The United States, of course, possesses vast arsenals of all three, and essentially spends more money on "defense" than the rest of the world combined. Saddam's WMDs turned out to be little more than mere fantasy (just like the UN Weapons Inspectors said they were), yet daily now our soldiers instead fall victim to "IEDs" -- "improvised explosive devices" more commonly known as "booby traps." Rather than "fighting the terrorists there so that we don't have to fight them here," the President has in effect simply provided our enemies with convenient targets right in their own back yards, so that they no longer need worry about how to come here in order to kill us.
Incapable of distinguishing soldier from civilian (or even friend from foe), our government has created the new categories of "Enemy Combatant" and "Detainee." Yet in effect what we have really done is declare open-season on "MAMs" -- "Military Aged Males" or young men of the wrong religion and the wrong complexion who have the misfortune of being discovered in the wrong place (their own neighborhood) at the wrong time (after dark, or in the vicinity of an IED). We profile them because we don't like the way they dress or the color of their skin, and then either shoot them down right there in the street or lock them up and throw away the key. Just like we do here at home...
And then finally we are told that it would be a national disgrace to "cut and run" -- that American credibility and American honor are at stake in Iraq, and to leave without victory would be a betrayal of our troops. Yet we have repeatedly dishonored ourselves in this war: from standing by while looters destroyed the Iraqi National Museum, to "Camp X-Ray" at Guantanamo Bay and the torture at Abu Graib, the unspeakable practice of "rendition" and massacres of civilians still coming to light. Not to mention the domestic spying and the assault on due process and habeus corpus. We have lost the respect of the world community, and become instead a sad parody of the proud ideals and principles we so vocally claim to defend.
The real question isn't whether or not we should get out of Iraq. The real question is whether or not we are going to continue to follow a policy that has already failed, or instead will make the effort to think of something better. And the only real decision we have to make is whether to trust the same idiots who got us into this war to get us out, or to look instead to someone smarter to lead us in a different direction, so that America might recover the honor we have already lost.
Believe it or not, this sudden and unexpected moment of insight cast a lot of light on an earlier question too, which asked whether I would rather get my physical exercise by: a) fencing or dancing b) ? c) wrestling or baseball. Had to go with option "b" there -- since I think at age 50 I would much rather dance than wrestle (not that I'm much of a dancer); but would also prefer to play baseball instead of fencing...although it would be cool to fence too if I actually knew what I was doing, and of course by baseball I really mean softball, since there's no way I could hit real pitching any more. Couldn't really hit it that well when I was 16 either....
But what the heck is this question all about anyway? Perhaps whether I would REALLY rather be: a) some sort of 19th-century Victorian gentleman b) ? c) a red-blooded, all-American boy from the 1950's....
The most truly enlightening question of the day was #111. True or False: "Sometimes I get so lost in my thoughts that, unless I watch out, I misplace things, have small mishaps, or lose track of time...."
HELLO! Sometimes? This is my LIFESTYLE....
So now I have to wait until August to find out from my career counselor what kind of professional vocation is most appropriate for the perennially absent-minded: parish ministry, traditional academia, or perhaps something completely different I haven't really thought that much about yet (like writing a syndicated newspaper column reviewing books and movies about sports and politics)....
In the meantime, while I'm still waiting (and lost in thought), can you BELIEVE what's been going on around here lately?
First of all, God Save this (thank God) still Honorable Supreme Court, which decided 5-3 today that Baby Bush's hip pocket kangaroo military tribunals were basically illegal under whatever legal standard foreign or domestic one might choose to compare them to. The shocking part is that there were four justices (including Chief Justice John Roberts, who recused himself because he had already written an opinion on this case as an Appeals Court judge) who saw things the other way. Under the guise of playing Commander in Chief, Dubya has assumed for himself sweeping "executive" powers which mock the Constitution, and pose a far greater threat to our traditional liberties than anything some ragged terrorist huddling in a cave might possibly dream of.
I just pray that the President's God-given sense of divine right and destiny doesn't tempt him at some point simply to ignore the decision of the Court and do whatever he goddamned pleases anyway. After all, this isn't just a war -- it's a Crusade. And how can you have a decent Crusade without an Inquisition?
Which brings me to the acrimonious partisan political debate over "Cut and Run." There were some of us who thought at the time that this whole idea of "Operation Iraqi Freedom" was a bad idea [check out my April 13, 2003 sermon "A Busted Flush?" at http://eclectic-cleric-ack.blogspot.com to begin with], but we don't have the luxury now of dealing with "what might have been." Instead we have to make decisions based on the reality of "right now."
Still, it doesn't hurt to look back at how we got into this mess in the first place. After initially ridiculing the previous administration for its feeble attempts at "nation building" and declaring "I'm not going to fire a $2 million missile at a $10 empty tent and hit a camel in the butt," Bush then ignored an August 6th, 2001 CIA briefing warning him "Bin Laden Determined to Strike in US." Only one month later we were all horribly surprised when Al-Qaida launched just such a devastating attack on September 11th.
Knowing he'd been caught with his pants down (and wanting to keep that fact a secret from the rest of us), Bush vowed "to bring the terrorists to justice, or bring justice to the terrorists." But already he was scheming to take advantage of our national anger over 9/11 to settle lingering old scores with Saddam Hussein left over from his Daddy's administration, and to snatch the Iraqi oil fields for his Petroleum Club cronies in the process. And so we were all subjected to "sexed-up" intelligence about "Weapons of Mass Destruction" as the Young Pretender whipped up as much righteous patriotic anger as he could in order to mislead our nation into an unnecessary (and frankly, unjustified) war.
This is not revisionist history. This is just another "inconvenient truth" based on embarrassing facts which the Bushies would just as soon we all ignore or forgot.
In any event, our soldiers won a stunning military victory in the desert, only to see the avaricious arrogance of politicians, mercenaries, and war profiteers pervert our soldiers' triumph into the mess we have now. The President put on his costume and landed on an aircraft carrier to declare "mission accomplished," but three years later Osama bin Laden is still at large, and our army still occupies two foreign countries, where the casualties keep mounting: more than 2500 killed, perhaps ten times that number wounded, plus tens of thousands more "psychological casualties" and hundreds of billions of dollars squandered. Blood and Treasure -- the currency of warfare never really changes.
But what do we have to show for the sacrifice of our brave troops?
And where is the PLAN, at least, to bring them home again?
There's more. Our nation ostensibly invaded Iraq in order to protect ourselves from "WMDs" -- Atomic, Biological, and Chemical weapons capable of killing thousands of people in a single stroke. The United States, of course, possesses vast arsenals of all three, and essentially spends more money on "defense" than the rest of the world combined. Saddam's WMDs turned out to be little more than mere fantasy (just like the UN Weapons Inspectors said they were), yet daily now our soldiers instead fall victim to "IEDs" -- "improvised explosive devices" more commonly known as "booby traps." Rather than "fighting the terrorists there so that we don't have to fight them here," the President has in effect simply provided our enemies with convenient targets right in their own back yards, so that they no longer need worry about how to come here in order to kill us.
Incapable of distinguishing soldier from civilian (or even friend from foe), our government has created the new categories of "Enemy Combatant" and "Detainee." Yet in effect what we have really done is declare open-season on "MAMs" -- "Military Aged Males" or young men of the wrong religion and the wrong complexion who have the misfortune of being discovered in the wrong place (their own neighborhood) at the wrong time (after dark, or in the vicinity of an IED). We profile them because we don't like the way they dress or the color of their skin, and then either shoot them down right there in the street or lock them up and throw away the key. Just like we do here at home...
And then finally we are told that it would be a national disgrace to "cut and run" -- that American credibility and American honor are at stake in Iraq, and to leave without victory would be a betrayal of our troops. Yet we have repeatedly dishonored ourselves in this war: from standing by while looters destroyed the Iraqi National Museum, to "Camp X-Ray" at Guantanamo Bay and the torture at Abu Graib, the unspeakable practice of "rendition" and massacres of civilians still coming to light. Not to mention the domestic spying and the assault on due process and habeus corpus. We have lost the respect of the world community, and become instead a sad parody of the proud ideals and principles we so vocally claim to defend.
The real question isn't whether or not we should get out of Iraq. The real question is whether or not we are going to continue to follow a policy that has already failed, or instead will make the effort to think of something better. And the only real decision we have to make is whether to trust the same idiots who got us into this war to get us out, or to look instead to someone smarter to lead us in a different direction, so that America might recover the honor we have already lost.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Open Source Philanthropy
Woke up this morning to the news that Warren Buffet has decided to join with his friend Bill Gate by donating a large portion of his personal fortune to several philanthropic organizations, including the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation (which is already, I've heard, the best-funded private philanthropic foundation in the world). I heartily applaud the generosity of these self-made billionaires, and share their desire to create a better world by improving the health and education of the world's most vulnerable inhabitants. Yet I also have an odd concern which is difficult for me to articulate, mostly because it still isn't quite clear in my own mind.
Bill Gates and I are about the same age, and grew up within a few miles of one another in the suburbs of Seattle. In fact, if my mother (with the encouragement of my public High School vice principal) had gotten her way instead of my dad, Trey and I might even have been classmates at Seattle's Lakeside Academy. We have a few mutual friends (most notably one of my early mentors in the ministry and his wife, who, like Melinda, are also both Duke alums), and...well, I don't want to make too much of this either. Let's just say that, like a lot of people around the world, I've always been kinda interested in what the world's Chief Geek has to say for himself, and tend to take him pretty seriously when he speaks.
So, what's my odd concern? I guess simply that despite its good intentions, a charitable organization as large as the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation might somehow have unintended and unforeseen consequences regarding the nature of philanthropic activities in general. Is it just paranoia, or some sort of dark, melancholic tendency of my own to see the glass half-empty rather than half-full? Maybe. Hell, probably. But let me put it another way. If the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation does for personal philanthropy what Microsoft did for personal computing, will that be a good thing or a bad thing? Or if it turns out (as I suspect it will) to be a little of both, what can be done to emphasize the former and minimize the latter?
Not that I'll have any real say in the matter. But here's the deal as I see it. Any time there's a large amount of money up for grabs, the temptation to try to "game the system" is never far away, while the firewalls intended to prevent that abuse of trust can potentially become even worse than the abuse itself. So what can be done to prevent or minimize this problem? Transparency, obviously...along with democratization, decentralized decision making, diversification of activities...in effect, an "open source" philanthropy which builds a real partnership between "developers" (the philanthropists) and "end users" (the intended beneficiaries), and allows the "clients" of the philanthropy the maximum amount of input and control, while still recognizing that a certain number of false starts and outright mistakes are probably unavoidable. Or at least that's how it seems to me. In the meantime, congratulations to all concerned regarding this magnificent expression of generosity and compassion. And may the accomplishments prove worthy of the dream....
Bill Gates and I are about the same age, and grew up within a few miles of one another in the suburbs of Seattle. In fact, if my mother (with the encouragement of my public High School vice principal) had gotten her way instead of my dad, Trey and I might even have been classmates at Seattle's Lakeside Academy. We have a few mutual friends (most notably one of my early mentors in the ministry and his wife, who, like Melinda, are also both Duke alums), and...well, I don't want to make too much of this either. Let's just say that, like a lot of people around the world, I've always been kinda interested in what the world's Chief Geek has to say for himself, and tend to take him pretty seriously when he speaks.
So, what's my odd concern? I guess simply that despite its good intentions, a charitable organization as large as the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation might somehow have unintended and unforeseen consequences regarding the nature of philanthropic activities in general. Is it just paranoia, or some sort of dark, melancholic tendency of my own to see the glass half-empty rather than half-full? Maybe. Hell, probably. But let me put it another way. If the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation does for personal philanthropy what Microsoft did for personal computing, will that be a good thing or a bad thing? Or if it turns out (as I suspect it will) to be a little of both, what can be done to emphasize the former and minimize the latter?
Not that I'll have any real say in the matter. But here's the deal as I see it. Any time there's a large amount of money up for grabs, the temptation to try to "game the system" is never far away, while the firewalls intended to prevent that abuse of trust can potentially become even worse than the abuse itself. So what can be done to prevent or minimize this problem? Transparency, obviously...along with democratization, decentralized decision making, diversification of activities...in effect, an "open source" philanthropy which builds a real partnership between "developers" (the philanthropists) and "end users" (the intended beneficiaries), and allows the "clients" of the philanthropy the maximum amount of input and control, while still recognizing that a certain number of false starts and outright mistakes are probably unavoidable. Or at least that's how it seems to me. In the meantime, congratulations to all concerned regarding this magnificent expression of generosity and compassion. And may the accomplishments prove worthy of the dream....
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Homegrown Terrorism?
Today's news concerns seven "homegrown" terrorists arrested in Miami as a result of the work of an undercover informant who impersonated an al-Qaeda operative in order to penetrate this dangerous conspiracy and bring these dangerous men to justice. Headlines are all about blowing up the Sears Tower in Chicago and "killing all the devils we can," yet even the FBI acknowledges that these wannabe terrorists were "more aspirational than operational" -- that they possessed no weapons or explosives, and that the most tangible crimes they are alleged to have committed consist of meeting (on several occasions) in a hotel room (or various other sleazy locations) with this al-Qaeda impersonator, who listened to their fantasies about creating an Islamic Army to wage Jihad against the Great Satan, accepted a wish list of desired supplies (which included machine guns, radios, vehicles, bullet-proof vests, $50,000 in cash and shoes in the proper sizes for all conspirators real and imagined), and then provided them instead with a video camera so that they could take photographs of public building they hoped someday to blow up. In exchange for use of this camera, alleged conspiracy ringleader Narseal "Prince Manna" Batiste and his six "brother" co-conspirators were asked to swear "an oath of loyalty to al-Qaeda," but despite their promises within a few months this aspiring sleeper cell began to dissolve as its more peripheral members woke up and moved on to other pursuits (like selling men's clothing at Abercrombie and Fitch). For additional details of the actual allegations of evil-doing, you can read the entire 11 page indictment here if you like.
Indictment
Public Defender Jimmy Hardy hit the nail right on the head when he commented "There's less than meets the eye here." Meanwhile, the government alleges that this really was a dangerous threat to homeland security because the conspirators possessed the intent and the desire to wage war against the United States, and had even taken steps (well, photographs) in order to carry out their aspirations. But think about this for half-a-second. I have the intent and the desire to someday spend the night with Rachel Hunter, and have even watched reruns of "Dancing with the Stars" and "The Real Gilligan's Island" in pursuit of this aspiration. But...well, do I really have to say any more?
Indictment
Public Defender Jimmy Hardy hit the nail right on the head when he commented "There's less than meets the eye here." Meanwhile, the government alleges that this really was a dangerous threat to homeland security because the conspirators possessed the intent and the desire to wage war against the United States, and had even taken steps (well, photographs) in order to carry out their aspirations. But think about this for half-a-second. I have the intent and the desire to someday spend the night with Rachel Hunter, and have even watched reruns of "Dancing with the Stars" and "The Real Gilligan's Island" in pursuit of this aspiration. But...well, do I really have to say any more?
Monday, June 19, 2006
Dogs and Cats living together....
This is the week many of my colleagues are off to our General Assembly in Saint Louis, something which in years past I have generally done myself (in fact, I even was married to my former wife at the GA in Atlanta in 1985). But more recently I've gotten out of the habit, and instead tend to spend this week trying to clean up all of the loose paper I accumulate over the course of a church year, so that at least I can begin the summer with a clean desk and uncluttered flat surfaces in my study.
I've also been reading with great interest my seminary-era friend Christine Robinson's Sabbatical Blog, and especially her observations about church growth and church size theory. LINK As the "Bishop of New Mexico," Christine is apparently exploring the issue of how best to extend our faith into the tiny towns and suburbs outside of Albuquerque. Beginning with a discussion of the differences between the "family" sized church and the "pastoral" sized church ("cats" and "collies" in the language of church consultant Lyle Schaller), she ponders the possibility of creating "puppies" -- satellite congregations of a larger "parent" church, which would be nurtured in such a way that they emerge with a different "culture" than your typical 35 member congregation.
Lots of interesting insights here, to which I would love to add some of my own.
1. There is a place for cats in the world, and even in our movement. Recognizing the inherent limitations of metaphor, one problem with breeding puppies is that you may end up raising lap dogs instead of working dogs (think Boston Terriers rather than Golden Retrievers)...which is to say that rather than creating small, independent congregations we end up with a bunch of small DEPENDENT ones. Don't get me wrong; I love Bostons (and even have one myself), and I certainly don't think that this problem is insurmountable. I just think it needs to be recognized.
2. Notwithstanding the observation above, one of the big problems I've noticed with the UUA's previous/current extention efforts is that they were mostly driven by the availability of financial subsidies, which insidiously tended to transform the REAL "mission" of the congregations-in-question from expanding their membership to obtaining (end extending) the subsidies.
3. Likewise, this in turn tends to focus a lot of attention to "bean-counting" (and the half-hearted "implementation" of various "techniques" of church growth) rather than nuturing the "soul" at the center of every vibrant faith community: a profound sense of trust, hope, gratitude, generosity, mission and service to something larger than ourselves.
4. The two essential concepts regarding successful church growth (which one hears over and over again if you simply pay attention) are the importance of a mission-driven Vision and the indispensable role of committed Leadership. The REAL secret to creating successful "pastoral" sized churches (and then growing them to whatever size the environment allows) is the creation (and support) of effective, visionary Pastors. There's been a lot of talk in our movement lately about the so-called "Pastoral-to-Program" transition, but from where I sit the real problem tends to be the expectation that somehow large family-sized churches which are struggling against the upper-limits of that organizational style will somehow miraculously transform themselves into Program-style institutions seven times their size. But the reality on the ground is that we have a lot of congregations of 65 households (give or take, with an average attendance of about the same) who operate organizationally as if they were still 35 "families," and who need to figure out how become effective congregations with 100+ souls in the sanctuary on any given Sunday. Not "program" churches. Healthy "pastoral" churches.
5. Here's another counter-intuitive truth. Healthy "cat-sized" churches are actually much more stable, resilient, self-reliant and long-lived than many struggling "dogs," and are perfectly capable of cultivating and nurturing a deep and meaningful spiritual experience for their members and friends, as well as programming effectively in all five of the key areas of congregational life: Worship, Religious Education, Fellowship Activities, Social Action and Pastoral Care. Obviously these activities will look a little different in a congregation of 40 households than they do in a 1000 member (or a 300 member or even a 100 member) congregation. But that doesn't mean that they aren't worthwhile. It's true: Family-sized churches like to do church "on the cheap." But when confronted with an environment of scarcity, frugality is an appropriate response (and yes, parsimony an ever-present danger). On the other hand, supporting a full-time, seminary-educated ordained "professional" minister is a huge financial burden for a congregation of 100 households (even with an average pledge in excess of $1200), especially when it is combined with other "normal" operating expenses like a mortgage, heat and electricity, office supplies, and part-time secretarial, music, religious education, and custodial staff. We can talk until we turn blue in the face about "prosperity" and "abundance," the "attitude of gratitude" and "creating congregations of generous people" (and believe me, I have). But the hard reality is that there are limits, and that creating an environment of "sustainable prosperity" within the parameters of those limitations (even as we work to extend or even transcend them) is no easy task. And simply throwing outside money at the problem only makes it worse, since it creates dependency and distorts the mission of the organization by changing the incentives. And who knew that I could sound so "Republican?"
6. A better alternative would be to change the way we "train" (as opposed to educate) our clergy, and also to change the way that we compensate them. Suppose that rather than providing money directly to congregations in order to subsidize the salaries of small-church ministers (at least until they have proven themselves worthy of moving on to a bigger one), or "loaning" clergy from "successful" large churches to "marginal" small ones, we first acknowledge that the skills required to be successful in small-church ministry are DIFFERENT than those we normally reward, and then create opportunities for clergy to learn those skills and form partnerships with small congregations which assume that the minister will also initially need some sort of "outside" employment in order to earn a living. Perhaps this outside employment could be as part-time program staff at a larger church or for the district; or perhaps it is simply some sort of fairly flexible secular employment. But now the incentive becomes to increase the church budget "the old-fashioned way," in order to be able to afford more of the minister's time and attention. Denominational money might still be appropriate in areas like health insurance subsidies (paid directly to the minister) or student loan deferments, as well as building loans, free training opportunities, and perhaps even "prize" money for good ideas that can be duplicated elsewhere. But the basic dynamic needs to be that the minister makes a sacrifice in order to serve the congregation, so that the congregation becomes willing to sacrifice in order to support THEIR minister...and that as PARTNERS they share a vision of the faith community they hope to create together. And the most important aspect of this dynamic is that the minister is a real leader within the church community, and not just an outside expert there to provide expertise (of dubious value) until a better-paying gig comes along.
7. As for the so-called "Pathways fiasco," there are generally important lessons to be learned even from an experiment that fails. But you would think that one of the first lessons would be not to do it again until you understand what went wrong the first time. I'm not really close enough to that situation to comment knowledgeably (not that I've ever let that stop me before), but I do know that when I first heard the idea (at General Assembly) of starting 50 "Pathways-style" congregations a year I was pretty skeptical, and that skepticism certainly hasn't been diminished by the course of subsequent events. On the other hand, I think Christine's idea of nurturing a litter of "puppies" from a central "mother" church has a lot more merit, and might potentially strengthen both parent and offspring. So, I'll be watching for news of new birth in the Land of Enchantment, all the while remembering my own experience in the 80's as the "Bishop of West Texas" -- the only settled UU minister between Fort Worth and El Paso, Austin and Albuquerque....
I've also been reading with great interest my seminary-era friend Christine Robinson's Sabbatical Blog, and especially her observations about church growth and church size theory. LINK As the "Bishop of New Mexico," Christine is apparently exploring the issue of how best to extend our faith into the tiny towns and suburbs outside of Albuquerque. Beginning with a discussion of the differences between the "family" sized church and the "pastoral" sized church ("cats" and "collies" in the language of church consultant Lyle Schaller), she ponders the possibility of creating "puppies" -- satellite congregations of a larger "parent" church, which would be nurtured in such a way that they emerge with a different "culture" than your typical 35 member congregation.
Lots of interesting insights here, to which I would love to add some of my own.
1. There is a place for cats in the world, and even in our movement. Recognizing the inherent limitations of metaphor, one problem with breeding puppies is that you may end up raising lap dogs instead of working dogs (think Boston Terriers rather than Golden Retrievers)...which is to say that rather than creating small, independent congregations we end up with a bunch of small DEPENDENT ones. Don't get me wrong; I love Bostons (and even have one myself), and I certainly don't think that this problem is insurmountable. I just think it needs to be recognized.
2. Notwithstanding the observation above, one of the big problems I've noticed with the UUA's previous/current extention efforts is that they were mostly driven by the availability of financial subsidies, which insidiously tended to transform the REAL "mission" of the congregations-in-question from expanding their membership to obtaining (end extending) the subsidies.
3. Likewise, this in turn tends to focus a lot of attention to "bean-counting" (and the half-hearted "implementation" of various "techniques" of church growth) rather than nuturing the "soul" at the center of every vibrant faith community: a profound sense of trust, hope, gratitude, generosity, mission and service to something larger than ourselves.
4. The two essential concepts regarding successful church growth (which one hears over and over again if you simply pay attention) are the importance of a mission-driven Vision and the indispensable role of committed Leadership. The REAL secret to creating successful "pastoral" sized churches (and then growing them to whatever size the environment allows) is the creation (and support) of effective, visionary Pastors. There's been a lot of talk in our movement lately about the so-called "Pastoral-to-Program" transition, but from where I sit the real problem tends to be the expectation that somehow large family-sized churches which are struggling against the upper-limits of that organizational style will somehow miraculously transform themselves into Program-style institutions seven times their size. But the reality on the ground is that we have a lot of congregations of 65 households (give or take, with an average attendance of about the same) who operate organizationally as if they were still 35 "families," and who need to figure out how become effective congregations with 100+ souls in the sanctuary on any given Sunday. Not "program" churches. Healthy "pastoral" churches.
5. Here's another counter-intuitive truth. Healthy "cat-sized" churches are actually much more stable, resilient, self-reliant and long-lived than many struggling "dogs," and are perfectly capable of cultivating and nurturing a deep and meaningful spiritual experience for their members and friends, as well as programming effectively in all five of the key areas of congregational life: Worship, Religious Education, Fellowship Activities, Social Action and Pastoral Care. Obviously these activities will look a little different in a congregation of 40 households than they do in a 1000 member (or a 300 member or even a 100 member) congregation. But that doesn't mean that they aren't worthwhile. It's true: Family-sized churches like to do church "on the cheap." But when confronted with an environment of scarcity, frugality is an appropriate response (and yes, parsimony an ever-present danger). On the other hand, supporting a full-time, seminary-educated ordained "professional" minister is a huge financial burden for a congregation of 100 households (even with an average pledge in excess of $1200), especially when it is combined with other "normal" operating expenses like a mortgage, heat and electricity, office supplies, and part-time secretarial, music, religious education, and custodial staff. We can talk until we turn blue in the face about "prosperity" and "abundance," the "attitude of gratitude" and "creating congregations of generous people" (and believe me, I have). But the hard reality is that there are limits, and that creating an environment of "sustainable prosperity" within the parameters of those limitations (even as we work to extend or even transcend them) is no easy task. And simply throwing outside money at the problem only makes it worse, since it creates dependency and distorts the mission of the organization by changing the incentives. And who knew that I could sound so "Republican?"
6. A better alternative would be to change the way we "train" (as opposed to educate) our clergy, and also to change the way that we compensate them. Suppose that rather than providing money directly to congregations in order to subsidize the salaries of small-church ministers (at least until they have proven themselves worthy of moving on to a bigger one), or "loaning" clergy from "successful" large churches to "marginal" small ones, we first acknowledge that the skills required to be successful in small-church ministry are DIFFERENT than those we normally reward, and then create opportunities for clergy to learn those skills and form partnerships with small congregations which assume that the minister will also initially need some sort of "outside" employment in order to earn a living. Perhaps this outside employment could be as part-time program staff at a larger church or for the district; or perhaps it is simply some sort of fairly flexible secular employment. But now the incentive becomes to increase the church budget "the old-fashioned way," in order to be able to afford more of the minister's time and attention. Denominational money might still be appropriate in areas like health insurance subsidies (paid directly to the minister) or student loan deferments, as well as building loans, free training opportunities, and perhaps even "prize" money for good ideas that can be duplicated elsewhere. But the basic dynamic needs to be that the minister makes a sacrifice in order to serve the congregation, so that the congregation becomes willing to sacrifice in order to support THEIR minister...and that as PARTNERS they share a vision of the faith community they hope to create together. And the most important aspect of this dynamic is that the minister is a real leader within the church community, and not just an outside expert there to provide expertise (of dubious value) until a better-paying gig comes along.
7. As for the so-called "Pathways fiasco," there are generally important lessons to be learned even from an experiment that fails. But you would think that one of the first lessons would be not to do it again until you understand what went wrong the first time. I'm not really close enough to that situation to comment knowledgeably (not that I've ever let that stop me before), but I do know that when I first heard the idea (at General Assembly) of starting 50 "Pathways-style" congregations a year I was pretty skeptical, and that skepticism certainly hasn't been diminished by the course of subsequent events. On the other hand, I think Christine's idea of nurturing a litter of "puppies" from a central "mother" church has a lot more merit, and might potentially strengthen both parent and offspring. So, I'll be watching for news of new birth in the Land of Enchantment, all the while remembering my own experience in the 80's as the "Bishop of West Texas" -- the only settled UU minister between Fort Worth and El Paso, Austin and Albuquerque....
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Turd Blossom dodges a bullet
Karl Rove should thank God (or at least his lucky stars) that (for at least the time being) he lives in a country where due process remains the rule of law, and perceived evil-doers are still considered innocent until PROVEN guilty. The irony, of course, is that in the society Rove envisions for us all -- a world of raw, naked power and political-religious demagoguery, secret prisons and unappealable military tribunals, inactivist judges and summary justice by executive decree -- people suspected of leaking the names of intelligence operatives generally just disappear in the middle of the night, and their bodies show up a few weeks or months later down some dark alley: beaten and tortured, their hands bound behind their backs and a bullet in the base of the brain. Kinda like they do right now in Iraq. Or else they operate with impunity beyond the reach of justice, because they are protected by those for whom the acquisition and accumulation of ever-greater wealth and power is the only value that really matters and...oops! never mind....
I don't want to sound shrill and I don't want to sound naive. But we are witnessing something right now in the history of our nation which is VERY distressing, and most days makes me just want to pull the sheets up over my head and pretend I can't see it. On one level it is simply the culmination of more than a century of accidental and unintentional imperial ambition, which (like not bringing condoms on a date so it won't seem like you're "planning" to commit a sin) has resulted in precisely the consequences we hoped to avoid but found impossible to resist. And yet we also seem to be living at a Tipping Point: that moment in time where our own insatiable lust for wealth and power (and big cars and cheap oil) have developed such momentum that they have taken on a life of their own, and threatened to transform the world in which we live beyond our recognition. Believe it or not, Global Warming may simply be the most visible and tangible symptom of catastrophic glacial changes in our "environment" which are beyond our ability to contain or control -- a hard reality to face for those for whom "containment" and "control" are Standard Operating Procedure. It's no longer a matter of mustering the willpower to push an ever-bigger boulder to the top of the hill (all the while whining about the absence of a "level playing field"). The rock is loose and rolling away, ready to crush anything unfortunate enough to be in its path.
The problem with Empire is mostly economic. It makes possible the concentration of previously inconceivable amounts of wealth and power in the hands of very few people, while spreading the costs of acquiring, accumulating and protecting that wealth to those who are increasingly powerless to control their own lives and determine their own fate. And so fatalism displaces hopeful imagination, and the optimists give way to the cynics. Ordinary human pleasures of home and family and community no longer seem adequate (and become increasingly difficult to sustain); while popular culture (with its obsession with "celebrity") seeks ever greater levels of extremity in order to evoke some sort of passionate (and profitable) emotional response from its faceless, nameless mass audience. Cheap bread and free circuses for the people, so that their Masters can afford to ignore the consequences of their avarice while gorging themselves on hummingbird tongues at their secluded seaside estates.
But I ramble from the point. The combination of Absolute Power and Demogogic Populism is a dangerous cocktail. As "the people" look for ever more powerful Leaders to rescue them from their own feelings of powerlessness, society itself grows increasingly unfeeling and anti-social. Like the natural human pleasures of home and hearth, the natural human accountability that comes from authentic human community no longer seems adequate, and gives way to ever more inhumane "cruel and unusual" punishments intended to deter potential bad-acters by frightening them into compliance with the "Rule" of Law. But the realization that the Rulers themselves are above the law makes these threats meaningless and ineffective. When powerless people no longer feel that they have a meaningful investment in the larger community, they no longer have any incentive to play by the "rules." And so we are left with only the Rulers, the Ruled, and the Unruly...or perhaps more descriptively: the Powerful, the Powerless, and those who refuse to submit to the former by accepting their "rightful" place among the latter.
I wish I could say I see an easy solution to this ugly conundrum. But I don't. Yet it does seem to me that the most likely path leads in a different direction: away from the ever-greater concentration of wealth and power in the hands of fewer and fewer unimaginably wealthy and powerful people, and toward the empowerment of more sustainable and autonomous, human-scale communities which are at once both self-sufficient and interdependent. A Utopian fantasy? Probably. But I'd rather imagine something like this than simply accepting a life where a "failure of imagination" may well have brought us all to the precipice of extinction.
So maybe we ALL ought to thank God (or at least our lucky stars) that Karl Rove has dodged a bullet, notwithstanding the fact that he has also apparently (for at least the time being) avoided indictment as well. Because perhaps what this REALLY means is that there's still hope for all of us as well....
***
QUICK FRIDAY MORNING UPDATE: and now comes the Supreme Court, who in a 5-4 decision led by Bush appointees John Roberts and Sam Alito, together with long-time conservative stalwarts Antonin "Tony" Scalia and Clarence Thomas (and with the concurrence of "moderate conservative" Justice Anthony Kennedy, who wrote a separate opinion) have just cut the heart out of the Exclusionary Rule (which prohibits the use of illegally discovered evidence at trial) by effectively eliminating it as a sanction against police who violate the so-called "Knock and Announce" requirement when serving a search warrant. In other words, now when the police come for you in the middle of the night, you can no longer expect a knock at the door. Now they are "free" simply to kick the door in and stick a gun in your face, without necessarily even telling you who they are. Certainly a remarkable day for those who love still love liberty....
I don't want to sound shrill and I don't want to sound naive. But we are witnessing something right now in the history of our nation which is VERY distressing, and most days makes me just want to pull the sheets up over my head and pretend I can't see it. On one level it is simply the culmination of more than a century of accidental and unintentional imperial ambition, which (like not bringing condoms on a date so it won't seem like you're "planning" to commit a sin) has resulted in precisely the consequences we hoped to avoid but found impossible to resist. And yet we also seem to be living at a Tipping Point: that moment in time where our own insatiable lust for wealth and power (and big cars and cheap oil) have developed such momentum that they have taken on a life of their own, and threatened to transform the world in which we live beyond our recognition. Believe it or not, Global Warming may simply be the most visible and tangible symptom of catastrophic glacial changes in our "environment" which are beyond our ability to contain or control -- a hard reality to face for those for whom "containment" and "control" are Standard Operating Procedure. It's no longer a matter of mustering the willpower to push an ever-bigger boulder to the top of the hill (all the while whining about the absence of a "level playing field"). The rock is loose and rolling away, ready to crush anything unfortunate enough to be in its path.
The problem with Empire is mostly economic. It makes possible the concentration of previously inconceivable amounts of wealth and power in the hands of very few people, while spreading the costs of acquiring, accumulating and protecting that wealth to those who are increasingly powerless to control their own lives and determine their own fate. And so fatalism displaces hopeful imagination, and the optimists give way to the cynics. Ordinary human pleasures of home and family and community no longer seem adequate (and become increasingly difficult to sustain); while popular culture (with its obsession with "celebrity") seeks ever greater levels of extremity in order to evoke some sort of passionate (and profitable) emotional response from its faceless, nameless mass audience. Cheap bread and free circuses for the people, so that their Masters can afford to ignore the consequences of their avarice while gorging themselves on hummingbird tongues at their secluded seaside estates.
But I ramble from the point. The combination of Absolute Power and Demogogic Populism is a dangerous cocktail. As "the people" look for ever more powerful Leaders to rescue them from their own feelings of powerlessness, society itself grows increasingly unfeeling and anti-social. Like the natural human pleasures of home and hearth, the natural human accountability that comes from authentic human community no longer seems adequate, and gives way to ever more inhumane "cruel and unusual" punishments intended to deter potential bad-acters by frightening them into compliance with the "Rule" of Law. But the realization that the Rulers themselves are above the law makes these threats meaningless and ineffective. When powerless people no longer feel that they have a meaningful investment in the larger community, they no longer have any incentive to play by the "rules." And so we are left with only the Rulers, the Ruled, and the Unruly...or perhaps more descriptively: the Powerful, the Powerless, and those who refuse to submit to the former by accepting their "rightful" place among the latter.
I wish I could say I see an easy solution to this ugly conundrum. But I don't. Yet it does seem to me that the most likely path leads in a different direction: away from the ever-greater concentration of wealth and power in the hands of fewer and fewer unimaginably wealthy and powerful people, and toward the empowerment of more sustainable and autonomous, human-scale communities which are at once both self-sufficient and interdependent. A Utopian fantasy? Probably. But I'd rather imagine something like this than simply accepting a life where a "failure of imagination" may well have brought us all to the precipice of extinction.
So maybe we ALL ought to thank God (or at least our lucky stars) that Karl Rove has dodged a bullet, notwithstanding the fact that he has also apparently (for at least the time being) avoided indictment as well. Because perhaps what this REALLY means is that there's still hope for all of us as well....
***
QUICK FRIDAY MORNING UPDATE: and now comes the Supreme Court, who in a 5-4 decision led by Bush appointees John Roberts and Sam Alito, together with long-time conservative stalwarts Antonin "Tony" Scalia and Clarence Thomas (and with the concurrence of "moderate conservative" Justice Anthony Kennedy, who wrote a separate opinion) have just cut the heart out of the Exclusionary Rule (which prohibits the use of illegally discovered evidence at trial) by effectively eliminating it as a sanction against police who violate the so-called "Knock and Announce" requirement when serving a search warrant. In other words, now when the police come for you in the middle of the night, you can no longer expect a knock at the door. Now they are "free" simply to kick the door in and stick a gun in your face, without necessarily even telling you who they are. Certainly a remarkable day for those who love still love liberty....
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Alumni/ae Day
As I mentioned when I first started writing this blog a month ago, this past week was the 25th anniversary of my graduation from the Harvard Divinity School, and my subsequent ordination to the ministry the following Sunday at the First and Second Church in Boston. In celebration of this auspicious occasion, last week Harvard threw a big party for me and my classmates (along with several thousand other proud graduates and their friends and families), just as they do every year about this same time.
The festivities started Tuesday night with a Reunion Dinner at the Harvard Club on Commonwealth Avenue, where I had a chance to catch up a little with former FRS student intern Dawn Sangrey and former FRS interim minister Diane Miller, both of whom were also celebrating "reunion" years (their 5th and 30th, respectively). I also enjoyed a brief conversation with former HDS Dean (and longtime Nantucket summer resident) Krister Stendahl, who, while asking the blessing on our sumptuous shared meal, quoted the same Latin American table grace I first heard him use at the "Dean's Feed" for incoming students on the back lawn of Jewitt House in 1978, which has been a favorite item in my own repertoire of prayers ever since: "To those who are hungry, give bread; and to us who have bread, give a hunger for justice." Certainly something worthy of learning by heart, and repeating regularly for more than a quarter-century.
The Reunion Dinner was followed on Wednesday by the Alumni/ae Day exercises back at the Divinity School campus. Tori Murden-McClure (MDiv '89), the first American woman both to row solo across the Atlantic Ocean and to ski to the South Pole, gave a very inspiring (and humorous) talk about some of the things she learned while attempting to accomplish these difficult physical feats. After quipping that apparently she had been invited back to HDS "for my body and not my mind," Tori took her theme from a quotation by Teddy Roosevelt: "Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat."
But the highlight of the day for me personally was hearing keynote speaker, Margaret Miles, my former Church History professor and the first tenured woman faculty member at HDS, who spoke on the topic "Living Lovingly in a Culture of Fear." Taking her inspiration from 1 John 4:18 "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear," Margaret spoke about how our contemporary "culture of fear" exaggerates some dangers (like the threat of terrorism) and diminishes others (like the number of highway traffic deaths each year), while our society's obsession with "romantic love" is essentially a form of "misdirection" -- a bit of cultural sleight-of-hand which diverts attention from our true responsibilities to care for one another. Quoting feminist philosopher Dorothy Dinnerstein, who wrote, "We never feel as grown-up as we expected to feel when we were children," Margaret reminded us that (like it or not) we ARE the grown-ups, and that the appropriate response to our own experience of Privilege is NOT "denial" and "guilt," but rather "gratitude and responsibility."
Of course, there was also plenty of swag, just as one might expect at a party planned by the Office of Development and External Relations. Lanyards, pens and pencils, plastic mag lights, even kazoos...all emblazoned with the HDS imprint. But the best gift of all was a quotation from the Czech playwright and politician Vaclav Havel: "Keep the company of those who seek the truth, and run from those who have found it."
The Divinity School's own motto of "Faith Seeking Understanding" echoes these same sentiments. And the fact is, I do feel very fortunate to have had the opportunity of attending Divinity School at Harvard twenty-five years ago, and to have subsequently enjoyed the privilege of seeking (and speaking) my own truth in love for more than half a lifetime now. God willing, I hope to continue to enjoy that privilege for another quarter-century (or longer), thanks in no small part to the gracious support of those who are interested in listening, and who likewise share their journeys with me.
The festivities started Tuesday night with a Reunion Dinner at the Harvard Club on Commonwealth Avenue, where I had a chance to catch up a little with former FRS student intern Dawn Sangrey and former FRS interim minister Diane Miller, both of whom were also celebrating "reunion" years (their 5th and 30th, respectively). I also enjoyed a brief conversation with former HDS Dean (and longtime Nantucket summer resident) Krister Stendahl, who, while asking the blessing on our sumptuous shared meal, quoted the same Latin American table grace I first heard him use at the "Dean's Feed" for incoming students on the back lawn of Jewitt House in 1978, which has been a favorite item in my own repertoire of prayers ever since: "To those who are hungry, give bread; and to us who have bread, give a hunger for justice." Certainly something worthy of learning by heart, and repeating regularly for more than a quarter-century.
The Reunion Dinner was followed on Wednesday by the Alumni/ae Day exercises back at the Divinity School campus. Tori Murden-McClure (MDiv '89), the first American woman both to row solo across the Atlantic Ocean and to ski to the South Pole, gave a very inspiring (and humorous) talk about some of the things she learned while attempting to accomplish these difficult physical feats. After quipping that apparently she had been invited back to HDS "for my body and not my mind," Tori took her theme from a quotation by Teddy Roosevelt: "Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat."
But the highlight of the day for me personally was hearing keynote speaker, Margaret Miles, my former Church History professor and the first tenured woman faculty member at HDS, who spoke on the topic "Living Lovingly in a Culture of Fear." Taking her inspiration from 1 John 4:18 "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear," Margaret spoke about how our contemporary "culture of fear" exaggerates some dangers (like the threat of terrorism) and diminishes others (like the number of highway traffic deaths each year), while our society's obsession with "romantic love" is essentially a form of "misdirection" -- a bit of cultural sleight-of-hand which diverts attention from our true responsibilities to care for one another. Quoting feminist philosopher Dorothy Dinnerstein, who wrote, "We never feel as grown-up as we expected to feel when we were children," Margaret reminded us that (like it or not) we ARE the grown-ups, and that the appropriate response to our own experience of Privilege is NOT "denial" and "guilt," but rather "gratitude and responsibility."
Of course, there was also plenty of swag, just as one might expect at a party planned by the Office of Development and External Relations. Lanyards, pens and pencils, plastic mag lights, even kazoos...all emblazoned with the HDS imprint. But the best gift of all was a quotation from the Czech playwright and politician Vaclav Havel: "Keep the company of those who seek the truth, and run from those who have found it."
The Divinity School's own motto of "Faith Seeking Understanding" echoes these same sentiments. And the fact is, I do feel very fortunate to have had the opportunity of attending Divinity School at Harvard twenty-five years ago, and to have subsequently enjoyed the privilege of seeking (and speaking) my own truth in love for more than half a lifetime now. God willing, I hope to continue to enjoy that privilege for another quarter-century (or longer), thanks in no small part to the gracious support of those who are interested in listening, and who likewise share their journeys with me.
Monday, June 05, 2006
The Collateral Damage of Intelligence Failure(s)
First a confession. I've never entirely understood that strange phenomenon known as "rabid Clinton-hating." At least not until that fateful day in 2000, when President-elect Gore finally conceded that the Bushies had successfully stolen the Florida election, and I was forced to watch the young Pretender (Gee Duh-byh Shrub) smirk and gladhand his way through and out of the Texas Statehouse into a waiting motorcade of ominous black SUVs. Without warning I was suddenly afflicted with the profound, visceral realization that something was terribly, TERRIBLY wrong in the Universe...that somehow a lying, insincere and disingenuous, pot-smoking, coke-snorting, draft-dodging, incompetent, unqualified, self-serving, self-important, self-absorbed YALE man had usurped power in our glorious Democratic Republic...which was followed almost immediately by the insight that there were an awful lot of people (or perhaps should I say "a lot of awful people") in this country who felt exactly the same way about our 42nd President as I felt about the man who was about to be sworn in as our 43rd.
Notwithstanding this fleeting moment of empathetic "getting it," it still took me more than five years before I could bring myself to drink orange juice again. At first I saw a "baby Bush" Presidency as something to be endured and survived, and took comfort in the knowledge that the more time he spend on vacation at his ranch in Texas, the less real damage he could do to the country and to me personally. After 9/11, like many patriotic Americans, I tried very hard to rally loyally behind the dignity of the Office rather than giving in to my disdain for the man and his obvious shortcomings, only to feel disappointed and betrayed again and again as I watched Rove, Cheney, Rumsfeld and company systematically twist and exploit our national tragedy for the political advantage of their maladroit, malapropic puppet, as well as the continued personal enrichment of their corporate cronies and the aggrandizement of the Religious Right.
The "Patriot" Act. The invasion of Iraq. That absurd "Mission Accomplished" photo op (not to mention the "Plastic Turkey" photo op that following Thanksgiving). Thousands of American soldiers killed; tens of thousands wounded; hundreds of billions of dollars squandered; crude oil at $70 a barrel and gasoline at $3 a gallon; record Federal deficits (and record oil company profits); untold numbers of warrantless searches, wiretaps, and incarcerations without trial or even benefit of counsel; gutted environmental regulations; the fiasco of Katrina; even a proposed constitutional amendment to define marriage as "a relationship between one man and one woman..." all the gifts of champagne soldiers and "chicken hawks" who love the sound of rattling sabers (and of course their own voices), but turn deaf ears and a blind eye to the cries of mothers whose children now rest in metal caskets draped in American flags.
Forgive me for sounding shrill, but given what we've all now seen with our own two eyes it is difficult to sound otherwise. It is difficult for me to understand how a nation, and more specifically a Congress, that was willing to impeach a sitting President for testifying evasively about receiving a blow job from a willing partner, now seems willing to ignore how profoundly this current President has fallen down on the job. How in his rush to provide tax cuts for his wealthy supporters in his the first year of his term, he ignored the intelligence warnings that al-Qaeda was planning a dramatic attack here in the United States. How he "sexed up" subsequent intelligence reports regarding the existence Weapons of Mass Destruction in Iraq and suppressed or ignored information to the contrary, even allowing his minions to disclose the identity of one of our own intelligence operatives in order to discredit the opinions of her husband. Not only should it be obvious by now to anyone with even a half-way objective point-of-view that Iraqi WMDs were merely an extravagant pipe-dream that both Dubya and Saddam shared, it should also be painfully clear that the decision to invade Iraq in the first place was simply a foregone conclusion looking for a credible rationale: a settling of old scores from his father's administration together with a misguided attempt to control Iraqi oil; and that the war itself has now likewise gone terribly, terribly wrong...if it could ever have been said that it was right in the first place.
And along the dark underbelly of this failed policy is an even more disturbing reality. Camp X-Ray at Guantanamo Bay. Abu Ghraib prison. "Rendition," "water-boarding" and "stress positions" (would not that which we refuse to call torture by any other name remain as brutal?). Military Tribunals. Suspension of Habeas Corpus and even rudimentary due process. The proliferation of "signing statements" and legislation by executive order, both apparently intended to expand the power of "the Decider" and undermine the constitutionally-defined separation of powers. And now, most recently, the massacre at Haditha - which many knowledgeable individuals now acknowledge is not an isolated incident.
But it seems to me that what is often overlooked in what little discussion takes place about these things is that public relations nightmares like Gitmo and Abu Ghraib and now Haditha are not the reason we are losing the war. They are rather symptoms of the fact that we ARE losing the war, that we perhaps have already lost the war. The young men and women whom we have placed in harms way are doing exactly what we have asked them to do, exactly what they have been ordered to do.. But those at the highest levels of government who have issued the orders seem incapable of understanding that this struggle for the "hearts and minds" of the world is not a struggle that will be decided by who has the better spin doctors, or who can best control the press, dominate the news cycle, even fix elections. It will certainly not be determined by military force alone. Hearts and Minds are won through Wisdom and Compassion. And this Administration is sadly lacking in both.
The Bush administration has abandoned the "real" war on terror (or perhaps I should say, the struggle against the real terrorists) in order to become state supporters of terrorism themselves. Armed with the most powerful military force in the history of the world, and in possession of vast arsenals of weapons of mass destruction, they nevertheless find themselves bogged down in a war of attrition against a growing insurgency: a war which lacks tangible war aims or even a clear definition of victory, which lacks a coherent exit strategy, which may not even be "winable" by military means, and which is rapidly losing the support of the American People.
To punish a handful of Marines for committing war crimes on the ground is to miss the point. There are bigger War Criminals waiting to be brought to justice. Yet the moral, legal and political implications of taking THAT step have very ominous consequences for the future of our Democratic Republic. And that too is something for which the Bushies are to blame.
Notwithstanding this fleeting moment of empathetic "getting it," it still took me more than five years before I could bring myself to drink orange juice again. At first I saw a "baby Bush" Presidency as something to be endured and survived, and took comfort in the knowledge that the more time he spend on vacation at his ranch in Texas, the less real damage he could do to the country and to me personally. After 9/11, like many patriotic Americans, I tried very hard to rally loyally behind the dignity of the Office rather than giving in to my disdain for the man and his obvious shortcomings, only to feel disappointed and betrayed again and again as I watched Rove, Cheney, Rumsfeld and company systematically twist and exploit our national tragedy for the political advantage of their maladroit, malapropic puppet, as well as the continued personal enrichment of their corporate cronies and the aggrandizement of the Religious Right.
The "Patriot" Act. The invasion of Iraq. That absurd "Mission Accomplished" photo op (not to mention the "Plastic Turkey" photo op that following Thanksgiving). Thousands of American soldiers killed; tens of thousands wounded; hundreds of billions of dollars squandered; crude oil at $70 a barrel and gasoline at $3 a gallon; record Federal deficits (and record oil company profits); untold numbers of warrantless searches, wiretaps, and incarcerations without trial or even benefit of counsel; gutted environmental regulations; the fiasco of Katrina; even a proposed constitutional amendment to define marriage as "a relationship between one man and one woman..." all the gifts of champagne soldiers and "chicken hawks" who love the sound of rattling sabers (and of course their own voices), but turn deaf ears and a blind eye to the cries of mothers whose children now rest in metal caskets draped in American flags.
Forgive me for sounding shrill, but given what we've all now seen with our own two eyes it is difficult to sound otherwise. It is difficult for me to understand how a nation, and more specifically a Congress, that was willing to impeach a sitting President for testifying evasively about receiving a blow job from a willing partner, now seems willing to ignore how profoundly this current President has fallen down on the job. How in his rush to provide tax cuts for his wealthy supporters in his the first year of his term, he ignored the intelligence warnings that al-Qaeda was planning a dramatic attack here in the United States. How he "sexed up" subsequent intelligence reports regarding the existence Weapons of Mass Destruction in Iraq and suppressed or ignored information to the contrary, even allowing his minions to disclose the identity of one of our own intelligence operatives in order to discredit the opinions of her husband. Not only should it be obvious by now to anyone with even a half-way objective point-of-view that Iraqi WMDs were merely an extravagant pipe-dream that both Dubya and Saddam shared, it should also be painfully clear that the decision to invade Iraq in the first place was simply a foregone conclusion looking for a credible rationale: a settling of old scores from his father's administration together with a misguided attempt to control Iraqi oil; and that the war itself has now likewise gone terribly, terribly wrong...if it could ever have been said that it was right in the first place.
And along the dark underbelly of this failed policy is an even more disturbing reality. Camp X-Ray at Guantanamo Bay. Abu Ghraib prison. "Rendition," "water-boarding" and "stress positions" (would not that which we refuse to call torture by any other name remain as brutal?). Military Tribunals. Suspension of Habeas Corpus and even rudimentary due process. The proliferation of "signing statements" and legislation by executive order, both apparently intended to expand the power of "the Decider" and undermine the constitutionally-defined separation of powers. And now, most recently, the massacre at Haditha - which many knowledgeable individuals now acknowledge is not an isolated incident.
But it seems to me that what is often overlooked in what little discussion takes place about these things is that public relations nightmares like Gitmo and Abu Ghraib and now Haditha are not the reason we are losing the war. They are rather symptoms of the fact that we ARE losing the war, that we perhaps have already lost the war. The young men and women whom we have placed in harms way are doing exactly what we have asked them to do, exactly what they have been ordered to do.. But those at the highest levels of government who have issued the orders seem incapable of understanding that this struggle for the "hearts and minds" of the world is not a struggle that will be decided by who has the better spin doctors, or who can best control the press, dominate the news cycle, even fix elections. It will certainly not be determined by military force alone. Hearts and Minds are won through Wisdom and Compassion. And this Administration is sadly lacking in both.
The Bush administration has abandoned the "real" war on terror (or perhaps I should say, the struggle against the real terrorists) in order to become state supporters of terrorism themselves. Armed with the most powerful military force in the history of the world, and in possession of vast arsenals of weapons of mass destruction, they nevertheless find themselves bogged down in a war of attrition against a growing insurgency: a war which lacks tangible war aims or even a clear definition of victory, which lacks a coherent exit strategy, which may not even be "winable" by military means, and which is rapidly losing the support of the American People.
To punish a handful of Marines for committing war crimes on the ground is to miss the point. There are bigger War Criminals waiting to be brought to justice. Yet the moral, legal and political implications of taking THAT step have very ominous consequences for the future of our Democratic Republic. And that too is something for which the Bushies are to blame.
Friday, June 02, 2006
What we gain when we give it away....
At our most recent congregational meeting, the members of the First Religious Society (or at least those in attendance) voted by a narrow margin to adopt a policy of dedicating the cash portion of the weekly offering to our Outreach and Social Action ministries. Because the vote was so close (18-12) it was the sense of the meeting that we would try this for a year as an experiment, and revisit the policy again at the next annual meeting. But as the person who suggested this idea to the Parish Committee in the first place, the responsibility fell to me to explain what I was thinking when I made the suggestion, and why I feel it’s something worth trying out.
This idea did not originate with me by the way, nor is it the first time something like it has been suggested at FRS. Many UU congregations around the country are now choosing to “give away” all or part of the Sunday offering to good causes beyond their own walls. Here in Carlisle we routinely take up a weekly Family offering of food and money for the support of the Open Pantry in Lowell, and have traditionally dedicated both our Thanksgiving and Christmas offerings to the Social Action Committee’s Outreach ministries as well.
The decision by the Parish Committee to recommend that FRS dedicate its entire cash offering to this same practice was in part inspired by the realization that the amount budgeted next year to be received through the offering (based on projections from years past) was already identical to the amount budgeted for Social Action outreach. In effect we were already doing this anyway; we just hadn’t identified it that way!
One benefit of formally linking the proceeds of the Sunday offering to Social Action Outreach ministries is that it allows folks to focus their attention more closely on the important role that gratitude and generosity toward others plays in our faith. The point is not merely to raise more money for these ministries (although hopefully that will be a by-product). The point is to remind ourselves weekly that “we live not for ourselves alone.”
A second benefit is that it compels us to take a closer look at how we take responsibility for funding the overall ministry of the church. Knowing that we are giving away the collection to others reminds us that we shouldn’t be counting on others to pay our own basic operating expenses like heat, salaries, office supplies and building maintenance.
There are also legitimate objections to the adoption of this kind of policy, which were eloquently and responsibly articulated at the congregational meeting. The most obvious question is what business do we have giving away the offering at a time when our own operating budget is painfully tight as it is. I don’t really have an answer for this, except for the earlier observation that at FRS we were already in effect doing it anyway.
A more wide-reaching concern has to do with the effect this sort of policy may have on the concept of a unified operating budget, and resisting the temptation to “earmark” other funds for other specific purposes, rather than for the support of the work and mission of the church as a whole. This is a constant pressure in church life, and I personally would be very disappointed indeed if adopting this new policy simply became “the camel’s nose” for creating separate “buckets of money” for every little pet project that comes down the road.
But in a larger sense, I also hope that adopting this current policy and trying it out for a year will give my congregation an opportunity to talk more deeply and more openly with one another about the important role money plays both in our own lives and in the life of the church. By discussing issues of responsibility and “ownership,” and developing the trust that we can count on one another to each do our share; by sharing our visions of the mission and purpose of the Church as an institution, and our dreams for its future; and by reminding ourselves weekly of the important contributions that generosity and gratitude make to our own happiness and satisfaction, I fully expect that "my people" will grow to feel enriched by this experiment. In fact, from my perspective based on the discussion at the annual meeting, we have already begun to experience its benefits
This idea did not originate with me by the way, nor is it the first time something like it has been suggested at FRS. Many UU congregations around the country are now choosing to “give away” all or part of the Sunday offering to good causes beyond their own walls. Here in Carlisle we routinely take up a weekly Family offering of food and money for the support of the Open Pantry in Lowell, and have traditionally dedicated both our Thanksgiving and Christmas offerings to the Social Action Committee’s Outreach ministries as well.
The decision by the Parish Committee to recommend that FRS dedicate its entire cash offering to this same practice was in part inspired by the realization that the amount budgeted next year to be received through the offering (based on projections from years past) was already identical to the amount budgeted for Social Action outreach. In effect we were already doing this anyway; we just hadn’t identified it that way!
One benefit of formally linking the proceeds of the Sunday offering to Social Action Outreach ministries is that it allows folks to focus their attention more closely on the important role that gratitude and generosity toward others plays in our faith. The point is not merely to raise more money for these ministries (although hopefully that will be a by-product). The point is to remind ourselves weekly that “we live not for ourselves alone.”
A second benefit is that it compels us to take a closer look at how we take responsibility for funding the overall ministry of the church. Knowing that we are giving away the collection to others reminds us that we shouldn’t be counting on others to pay our own basic operating expenses like heat, salaries, office supplies and building maintenance.
There are also legitimate objections to the adoption of this kind of policy, which were eloquently and responsibly articulated at the congregational meeting. The most obvious question is what business do we have giving away the offering at a time when our own operating budget is painfully tight as it is. I don’t really have an answer for this, except for the earlier observation that at FRS we were already in effect doing it anyway.
A more wide-reaching concern has to do with the effect this sort of policy may have on the concept of a unified operating budget, and resisting the temptation to “earmark” other funds for other specific purposes, rather than for the support of the work and mission of the church as a whole. This is a constant pressure in church life, and I personally would be very disappointed indeed if adopting this new policy simply became “the camel’s nose” for creating separate “buckets of money” for every little pet project that comes down the road.
But in a larger sense, I also hope that adopting this current policy and trying it out for a year will give my congregation an opportunity to talk more deeply and more openly with one another about the important role money plays both in our own lives and in the life of the church. By discussing issues of responsibility and “ownership,” and developing the trust that we can count on one another to each do our share; by sharing our visions of the mission and purpose of the Church as an institution, and our dreams for its future; and by reminding ourselves weekly of the important contributions that generosity and gratitude make to our own happiness and satisfaction, I fully expect that "my people" will grow to feel enriched by this experiment. In fact, from my perspective based on the discussion at the annual meeting, we have already begun to experience its benefits
Friday, May 26, 2006
Indefinite Tenure
I heard somewhere recently that the median tenure of all Unitarian Universalist ministers these days is now somewhere in the neighborhood of three years. That seemed a little short to me, until I realized that we were talking about the MEDIAN and not the "average" (or arithmetic mean); and that when I looked back at the 13 different congregations (not including random preaching gigs) I have served full or part time over the past quarter of a century, the median tenure of MY ministries is only 22 months. By way of comparison, my predecessor here at FRS has only served two churches in that same period of time: this one (from 1977 to 2001) and now (in retirement) an informal interim ministry at a nearby congregation. Combine his career with mine and the median becomes...22 months. But the average would be closer to 40....
This certainly wasn't at all what I expected when I first signed up for this kind of work. My two earliest mentors in ministry were the two longest tenured ministers in the denomination at the time of their respective retirements: Peter Raible served University Unitarian Church in Seattle for 36 years, while Rhys Williams was the minister of the First and Second Church in Boston for 40. Years, not months. And I know for a fact (because they both confided it to me) that one of the reasons Peter worked as long as he did was that he was hoping Rhys would retire first (so that Peter could pass him), and one of the reasons Rhys worked as long as HE did was that he was waiting for Peter to retire and give up!
Still, the appeal of long-tenured ministry remains alluring. There is something (I'm told) about officiating at the wedding of a child you christened, and then christening THEIR children (and, yes, eventually even burying the grandparents) which gives meaning to our work that simply cannot be found in any other way. It adds a whole new dimension of understanding to Leon Hopper's classic dichotomy about "being" a minister and "doing" ministry. At the end of the day, ministry is not about credentials, or education, or even a closet full of the appropriate clothing and a calendar crowded with "sacerdotal functions." Ministry is really about a relationship -- and we earn the privilege of calling ourselves "ministers" one person as a time, as they honor us with the distinction of calling us THEIR minister.
As someone with a fairly significant exposure to the world of academia, the difference between that understanding of "tenure" (as lifetime job security) and what I see in the ministry is striking. Settled clergy in our movement are supposed to enjoy "indefinite tenure" (in that we serve for no fixed term), but the truth of the matter is that we always serve solely at the pleasure of our people, who (over the short term at least) can often seem like a pretty fickle bunch. Yet they also hunger for the kind of community and authentic relationships that are increasingly rare in this ever more mobile, transient, "throw-away" consumer society we have managed to create for ourselves. And this is a job which can simply never be "outsourced."
This certainly wasn't at all what I expected when I first signed up for this kind of work. My two earliest mentors in ministry were the two longest tenured ministers in the denomination at the time of their respective retirements: Peter Raible served University Unitarian Church in Seattle for 36 years, while Rhys Williams was the minister of the First and Second Church in Boston for 40. Years, not months. And I know for a fact (because they both confided it to me) that one of the reasons Peter worked as long as he did was that he was hoping Rhys would retire first (so that Peter could pass him), and one of the reasons Rhys worked as long as HE did was that he was waiting for Peter to retire and give up!
Still, the appeal of long-tenured ministry remains alluring. There is something (I'm told) about officiating at the wedding of a child you christened, and then christening THEIR children (and, yes, eventually even burying the grandparents) which gives meaning to our work that simply cannot be found in any other way. It adds a whole new dimension of understanding to Leon Hopper's classic dichotomy about "being" a minister and "doing" ministry. At the end of the day, ministry is not about credentials, or education, or even a closet full of the appropriate clothing and a calendar crowded with "sacerdotal functions." Ministry is really about a relationship -- and we earn the privilege of calling ourselves "ministers" one person as a time, as they honor us with the distinction of calling us THEIR minister.
As someone with a fairly significant exposure to the world of academia, the difference between that understanding of "tenure" (as lifetime job security) and what I see in the ministry is striking. Settled clergy in our movement are supposed to enjoy "indefinite tenure" (in that we serve for no fixed term), but the truth of the matter is that we always serve solely at the pleasure of our people, who (over the short term at least) can often seem like a pretty fickle bunch. Yet they also hunger for the kind of community and authentic relationships that are increasingly rare in this ever more mobile, transient, "throw-away" consumer society we have managed to create for ourselves. And this is a job which can simply never be "outsourced."
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Why I am NOT a Unitarian-Universalist TM
I'm told that UU identity is a current thread in this corner of the Blogosphere, so I thought perhaps I'd share a few of my own ideas on the subject. Ideas, not answers. I don't really believe in "elevator speeches" although I can certainly see their utility. My own tends to focus on the historical -- that we are the direct institutional descendants of the Pilgrims who crossed the ocean in 1620 in search of religious liberty in a New World, and who during the Enlightenment rejected the doctrines of total depravity and predestined eternal damnation in favor of a belief in free will and basic human goodness, and the faith that ultimately All Souls will be reconciled with their Creator. So basically I like to think of myself as an Enlightened Pilgrim....
And then I generally say something like "Oh, but that really doesn't do us justice, since we're actually a lot different than most other churches you're probably familiar with, and you really need to experience it for yourself to appreciate it."
Of course, one can also always look to the Seven Principles (and the five, no wait, six sources), along with their predecessors: all that business about the Fatherhood of God, the neighborhood of Boston, and "the Progress of Mankind onward and upward forever." Or the tried-and-true characterizations regarding Universal Salvation and the humanity of Jesus. But does any of this really capture the spirit of who we are and what we truly stand for? And what does it say about us UUs that we have to ask ourselves this question in the first place?
Some of us still do think of ourselves as "unitarian" Universalists: liberal Christians who believe that God is a Spirit with whom we have a personal relationship, that Jesus is not just a great teacher, but OUR great teacher...that theology is an act of imaginative meaning-making which, despite it's limitations, can still cast light on an experience that is essentially beyond our understanding, and that the Gospel message that we are all God's children and heirs to God's kingdom is a good one.
Others of us are more comfortable with the notion of "universalist" Unitarianism: a form of radical, post-Christian neo-Transcendentalist Protestant panentheism which understands Religion (or "spirituality") as a basic element of the human experience, which each historical culture (and ultimately every individual) shapes in their own way based on their own particular context and circumstances. Thus the sacred can be seen in EVERY faith tradition, provided one just knows where to look.
And then there is "Unitarian-Universalism TM" -- a brand-new "brand" of religion/spirituality competing for greater shelf space in the marketplace of religions, constantly "re-inventing" itself In Search of Excellence or to become more "user-friendly" in the attempt to gain market share. This "new and improved" style of faith seeks to be agile and customer-focused, and is driven by the eternal (and insatiable) demand for higher Value, greater Quality, and ever more efficient Service.
I have to confess (if it isn't obvious already) that when I first learned that "Unitarian-Universalism" had become a registered trademark, it made me a little sick to my stomach. It's not that I don't appreciate the need for the denomination to protect its "brand" by legal means; it's just that I lament that need and pretty much everything it stands for.
But the more interesting question for me remains this: What IS it about "our liberal movement in theology" that allows us to believe all three of these things at once in the first place?
And then I generally say something like "Oh, but that really doesn't do us justice, since we're actually a lot different than most other churches you're probably familiar with, and you really need to experience it for yourself to appreciate it."
Of course, one can also always look to the Seven Principles (and the five, no wait, six sources), along with their predecessors: all that business about the Fatherhood of God, the neighborhood of Boston, and "the Progress of Mankind onward and upward forever." Or the tried-and-true characterizations regarding Universal Salvation and the humanity of Jesus. But does any of this really capture the spirit of who we are and what we truly stand for? And what does it say about us UUs that we have to ask ourselves this question in the first place?
Some of us still do think of ourselves as "unitarian" Universalists: liberal Christians who believe that God is a Spirit with whom we have a personal relationship, that Jesus is not just a great teacher, but OUR great teacher...that theology is an act of imaginative meaning-making which, despite it's limitations, can still cast light on an experience that is essentially beyond our understanding, and that the Gospel message that we are all God's children and heirs to God's kingdom is a good one.
Others of us are more comfortable with the notion of "universalist" Unitarianism: a form of radical, post-Christian neo-Transcendentalist Protestant panentheism which understands Religion (or "spirituality") as a basic element of the human experience, which each historical culture (and ultimately every individual) shapes in their own way based on their own particular context and circumstances. Thus the sacred can be seen in EVERY faith tradition, provided one just knows where to look.
And then there is "Unitarian-Universalism TM" -- a brand-new "brand" of religion/spirituality competing for greater shelf space in the marketplace of religions, constantly "re-inventing" itself In Search of Excellence or to become more "user-friendly" in the attempt to gain market share. This "new and improved" style of faith seeks to be agile and customer-focused, and is driven by the eternal (and insatiable) demand for higher Value, greater Quality, and ever more efficient Service.
I have to confess (if it isn't obvious already) that when I first learned that "Unitarian-Universalism" had become a registered trademark, it made me a little sick to my stomach. It's not that I don't appreciate the need for the denomination to protect its "brand" by legal means; it's just that I lament that need and pretty much everything it stands for.
But the more interesting question for me remains this: What IS it about "our liberal movement in theology" that allows us to believe all three of these things at once in the first place?
Friday, May 19, 2006
All Ministry is Local
I suppose it almost goes without saying that one of the more thought provoking things about writing a BLOG (at least when I compare it to the kind of journaling I have done routinely my entire adult life) is the realization that someone may actually be reading this. I imagine many bloggers like to dream that they will eventually gather HUGE audiences of highly-appreciative anonymous readers, but I'm a lot more intimidated by the realization that my most likely readers are my friends and family, colleagues and parishioners -- people who know me, and who have already formed some sort of impression of me, which may or may not be entirely favorable, and over which I probably have very little meaningful influence, much less control. So long as my writing is for my eyes only I have COMPLETE control -- I can revise, I can edit...change this word for that one on a whim...it's all mine. But once I "publish" by making my writing public, it no longer belongs to me but instead takes on a life of its own. I'm not really sure how I feel about that. Not really sure how much of myself I honestly want to "share."
Went to a Ministers Meeting this past week, the last of the season before we all go our separate ways for the summer. It was supposed to be a picnic, but a foot of rain here in Massachusetts over the past few days pretty much washed those plans out. Never mind the Noah's Ark allusions -- just goes to show that for clergy even a picnic is no picnic. Or in the words of the Sun King, "Apres nous, le deluge." (sorry this browser doesn't support the accent). In any event, there were nineteen of us in attendance, not counting my dog Parker (who is also female): seventeen women and two men. A pretty dramatic change in demographics from my first ministers meetings 25 years ago, when the gender ratios would have typically been exactly the opposite. But that's only the most obvious difference. Lots more "second career" clergy in the room as well, which means older individuals with less time in the pulpit yet lots of different secular life experience. And the tenor of the meetings is different as well. That old bunch tended to be a pretty hard-drinking crowd, who came to these retreats to let their hair down among trusted colleagues in a very lonely and isolated profession. In this regard the model of collegiality seems to have changed dramatically - the "covenant" between us is more explicit, yet the intensity of the personal loyalties I recall from my youth seems somewhat diminished. This may simply reflect changes in me as much as it does changes in the profession. Or it may merely reflect changes in the larger culture as well. Of course, the hardest adjustment is realizing that, after a quarter-century in the pulpit, I too have become (at least in the eyes of many) an "Old Boy" myself.
I don't really mourn the passing of "the Old Boy's Network" although I do miss many of the Old Boys themselves -- my early mentors in ministry who devoted their entire lives to this strange and ancient profession/vocation/calling we share. Not a one of them was perfect, yet they had learned the hard way how to do this work despite their imperfections, and were very generous to a youngster like myself facing those struggles for the first time. When I arrived at my first settled pulpit in Midland, Texas -- the only settled Unitarian minister between Fort Worth and El Paso, Austin and Albuquerque -- my colleagues in the district informed me that there were only two rules I needed to remember: if another minister asks you to do something, the answer is "Yes" and the only excuse for missing a minister's meeting is a funeral: your own. That may still be the way they do ministry in Texas, but it would sure be a hard sell here in Massachusetts.
I actually participate in a handful of different clergy groups at the moment, at various levels of "involvement." My most faithful participation is in my informal local "cluster" -- a small group of UU clergy who get together once a month for lunch in Chelmsford mostly just to shoot the breeze and share one another's company. Although my church is technically a member of the Clara Barton district (which covers Western Massachusetts and Northern Connecticut), I prefer to attend the Mass Bay district ministers meetings -- both because I have many more friends in that district, and the meetings are a lot more convenient. But I also try to attend the Clara Barton meetings when I can -- generally about half the time, and never (at least not since I've been here) overnight. That's a boundary I've set for myself because of the dog: she's not often invited to the overnight retreats, and I can't really leave her alone in the parsonage overnight. Finally there is the ecumenical Concord Clergy Alliance, which I rarely attend because it tends to conflict with the Mass Bay meetings.
I have a tremendous amount of respect and admiration for my colleagues in ministry: as a group they possess so many amazing and diverse talents, which they use in such creative ways in the performance of this challenging vocation. There's no such thing as an "ideal" minister, yet ultimately this doesn't really matter; it is simply in the nature of the work of ministry that it will take from you everything you have to give it, and still it won't seem like enough. And yet somehow, it always manages to BE enough... (well, not ALWAYS, but that's a topic for another day). Yet as much as I admire and respect and even love my colleagues, I've also learned an even more important lesson from them over the years -- the lesson that "All Ministry is Local." Ultimately, our loyalty must be not to those who share our profession, but to our congregations: to the people who have invited us to become THEIR minister, and to the Deity we congregate together weekly to serve and worship. Rather than any academic degree or professional credential, it is "our People" who make us ministers by offering to us their trust and respect, and the privilege of serving as *their* minister. It's a privilege we earn one person at a time, and nothing in the world is more precious.
The Adorable Parker, my beloved Boston Terrorist
Went to a Ministers Meeting this past week, the last of the season before we all go our separate ways for the summer. It was supposed to be a picnic, but a foot of rain here in Massachusetts over the past few days pretty much washed those plans out. Never mind the Noah's Ark allusions -- just goes to show that for clergy even a picnic is no picnic. Or in the words of the Sun King, "Apres nous, le deluge." (sorry this browser doesn't support the accent). In any event, there were nineteen of us in attendance, not counting my dog Parker (who is also female): seventeen women and two men. A pretty dramatic change in demographics from my first ministers meetings 25 years ago, when the gender ratios would have typically been exactly the opposite. But that's only the most obvious difference. Lots more "second career" clergy in the room as well, which means older individuals with less time in the pulpit yet lots of different secular life experience. And the tenor of the meetings is different as well. That old bunch tended to be a pretty hard-drinking crowd, who came to these retreats to let their hair down among trusted colleagues in a very lonely and isolated profession. In this regard the model of collegiality seems to have changed dramatically - the "covenant" between us is more explicit, yet the intensity of the personal loyalties I recall from my youth seems somewhat diminished. This may simply reflect changes in me as much as it does changes in the profession. Or it may merely reflect changes in the larger culture as well. Of course, the hardest adjustment is realizing that, after a quarter-century in the pulpit, I too have become (at least in the eyes of many) an "Old Boy" myself.
I don't really mourn the passing of "the Old Boy's Network" although I do miss many of the Old Boys themselves -- my early mentors in ministry who devoted their entire lives to this strange and ancient profession/vocation/calling we share. Not a one of them was perfect, yet they had learned the hard way how to do this work despite their imperfections, and were very generous to a youngster like myself facing those struggles for the first time. When I arrived at my first settled pulpit in Midland, Texas -- the only settled Unitarian minister between Fort Worth and El Paso, Austin and Albuquerque -- my colleagues in the district informed me that there were only two rules I needed to remember: if another minister asks you to do something, the answer is "Yes" and the only excuse for missing a minister's meeting is a funeral: your own. That may still be the way they do ministry in Texas, but it would sure be a hard sell here in Massachusetts.
I actually participate in a handful of different clergy groups at the moment, at various levels of "involvement." My most faithful participation is in my informal local "cluster" -- a small group of UU clergy who get together once a month for lunch in Chelmsford mostly just to shoot the breeze and share one another's company. Although my church is technically a member of the Clara Barton district (which covers Western Massachusetts and Northern Connecticut), I prefer to attend the Mass Bay district ministers meetings -- both because I have many more friends in that district, and the meetings are a lot more convenient. But I also try to attend the Clara Barton meetings when I can -- generally about half the time, and never (at least not since I've been here) overnight. That's a boundary I've set for myself because of the dog: she's not often invited to the overnight retreats, and I can't really leave her alone in the parsonage overnight. Finally there is the ecumenical Concord Clergy Alliance, which I rarely attend because it tends to conflict with the Mass Bay meetings.
I have a tremendous amount of respect and admiration for my colleagues in ministry: as a group they possess so many amazing and diverse talents, which they use in such creative ways in the performance of this challenging vocation. There's no such thing as an "ideal" minister, yet ultimately this doesn't really matter; it is simply in the nature of the work of ministry that it will take from you everything you have to give it, and still it won't seem like enough. And yet somehow, it always manages to BE enough... (well, not ALWAYS, but that's a topic for another day). Yet as much as I admire and respect and even love my colleagues, I've also learned an even more important lesson from them over the years -- the lesson that "All Ministry is Local." Ultimately, our loyalty must be not to those who share our profession, but to our congregations: to the people who have invited us to become THEIR minister, and to the Deity we congregate together weekly to serve and worship. Rather than any academic degree or professional credential, it is "our People" who make us ministers by offering to us their trust and respect, and the privilege of serving as *their* minister. It's a privilege we earn one person at a time, and nothing in the world is more precious.
The Adorable Parker, my beloved Boston Terrorist
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