Coyotewoman, that's me

I'm once again pacing the floor and waiting for the proper time to go over to church and get ready for the 4 p.m. service. Boy, will I be glad when we can meet in the morning! I scheduled my final wedding consultation meeting for noon today, and after working for an hour with the couple, I still had two hours to burn before it makes sense to go over there. So I sat down and checked out the quiz site I've noticed, and here is the result. It's not an age-appropriate site for someone who gets Medicare, but I could deal with it, and I was kind of tickled by the result, because I've always felt that this was truly my totem animal.

I took the "The Animal Spirit" quiz on gURL.com
		My animal spirit is... The Coyote According to shamanistic wisdom, coyotes are the animal world's trickster. Coyote people have a way with words, and a unique way of seeing the world. Never ones to take things at face value, coyote people question authority with sly jokes. Read more... What is your animal spirit?

Conversation about direct spiritual experience

Last night's Conversation, fueled by tea, wine, cheese, and fruit, was a wonderful time of real, honest-to-goodness dialogue, with nobody hogging the floor, ideas bouncing back and forth, shocking utterances occasionally, and a lot of laughter to leaven the depth of passion and emotion.

Six of us shared the moments in our lives when we were riveted by an experience or words or vision of something inexplicable: a painting, an observation by another person, a poem, an awareness of life's fragility, seeing God in nature. We talked about the movie "Smoke" and tried to outline its complicated plot and the significant moments in it for the two folks who had not seen it, but found it difficult to convey precisely what we saw.

Each person had been struck by something different in the movie, but all of us had seen the human compassion and caring that superseded the questionable morality of several characters. I was struck by Augie's photos and their meaning to him and to Paul, the character whose wife was killed by a random act of violence, by the "fathering" behavior Augie exhibited toward Paul and that Paul exhibited toward Rashid, by Augie's willingness to give money to Ruby to try to help their (putative) daughter. Underlying this compassionate behavior were several dubious acts-----a bag of money from a heist, smuggled-in Cuban cigars, and a stolen camera. Each of these illegal acts seemed to be redeemed by some act of kindness, though not decisively nor clearly.

So it was an interesting and rewarding evening. I'm hoping that the next one, in October, will be equally pleasing.

Conversation on Source #1, Direct Experience of the Mystery

Last Sunday's sermon on Source #1, "direct experience of transcending mystery and wonder", was well received by the congregation and I am looking forward to tonight's followup conversation, here at my house, in which we will discuss further our own experiences of that mystery and wonder.

I have no way of knowing how many people will show up at 7 to participate, because I didn't ask for RSVPs, and it's entirely possible that no one will come. Yikes! I remember a horrible Christmas one year long ago when I volunteered to host the faculty Christmas party and NOBODY came. It was more a matter of distance than of popularity, I realized, but it hurt just the same! If only a few people show up, I will be content.

I've asked people to view the movie "Smoke" in preparation for the evening and I've devised a format. We'll light the chalice and then I'll start off with a warm-up question, just as I used to do with my counseling groups at the school where I was employed: what is a song or poem or other such which has touched you spiritually?

From there, we'll consider some or all of these questions: what did you notice about spiritual experience in "Smoke"? how have you experienced directly "the transcending mystery and wonder"? how is it affirmed in our culture? in others' culture? what does "renewal of the spirit" mean to you? What does "openness to the forces that create and uphold life" mean to you?

I'm hoping for some good conversation in which people will share their own spiritual journeys as they feel comfortable, revealing moments in their lives which were profound, or inspiring, or life-changing.

I've got some good cheeses, some wine and hot cider, and, I hope, enough chairs. I'll let you know how it goes. Keep your fingers crossed that we get enough folks for a good exchange.

Doing this series of sermons and conversations on the Sources of Unitarian Universalism is really exciting for me. There is always lots of interest in the Principles but we take the Sources for granted, and I think they may be more enlightening than any other part of our history.

Biological age vs. Real age

Ms. Theologian mentioned a test this morning that clocked her at 4.5 years old in "Real Age". So I took it and I like the results too: Real Age, 49.7 (as opposed to biological age of 65) and Life Expectancy of 95.3 (as opposed to the average of 80). You too can take the test here.

Guess I'd better keep going to the gym and chowing down the fiber.

From my favorite former bro-in-law

ChaliceChick mentioned how much she liked the recent Boston Legal, a show I've never watched. And this morning, in my email appeared a note from my former brother in law Dick, who gave me permission to put this out there.

DELUSION
I just love watching the show Boston Legal. Usually I’m all alone in the room as I view it so I can laugh out loud uninhibitedly. I also cry--lots of crocodile tears--with joy and cathartic empathy as those buffoonish characters recite their lines and make their ways ever so awkwardly through their pretend lives. I laugh/cry at their humanity. They are all misfits, yet they show love and tenderness for each other in every episode.
========================================
I study religion. For 40 years I was a participant and for 20 years I’ve been an observer. I read, fascinated by Jews, Moslems, Mormons, Evangelicals, Buddhists, Witnesses and so on. I read about ancient history and current trends, about archaeology and modern politics. Mostly I’ve sought the answer to the question, “Why?”, because as universal and natural as religion seems to be I can’t escape the conclusion that it is all delusional. It’s a delusion that gives joy, comfort, guilt over misdeeds and answers to the unanswerable. Institutionalized, religion becomes a most effective means of behavior control over populations and has been so used since we first formed tribes. The human brain is so thoroughly compartmentalized that even the most analytical scientist can suspend his disbelief and participate in religious delusion if it makes him feel good. That’s how it is and it ain’t going to change any time soon.
===========================================
Last night I watched the season premier of Boston Legal. It was perfect. I was alone in the house and my isolation was further enhanced by wearing headphones. I whooped and hollered and cried and catharted all over the place. For a time I was transported to an imaginary parallel universe where even arrogant, self-centered characters as well as the kind and decent ones are compelled by some internal guidance mechanism to do the right thing—to show compassion and kindness and forgiveness to each other. Then came the epiphany. Was I participating in my own chosen delusion? Some remnant of my childhood beliefs in the fundamental goodness of mankind? The product of spending too much time around caring, loving people? Perhaps THE Liberal Delusion??? Of course! That’s it! In spite of all evidence to the contrary I have chosen to see the good in people. I have chosen to believe that kindness and decency is normal human behavior and that cruelty is an aberration. It’s my delusion and I’m sticking to it. It feels good and gives me hope. What can it hurt?

Dick Gilmore 9/27/2007

A Change of Scenery

I'm just back from a wonderful trip to the Walla Walla wine country. I'm not a huge imbiber of anything, so much of the wine stuff was lost on me, but we did have a terrific experience.

For me a lot of the wonderfulness was in the change of scenery. Much as I love the island, the water, the green leafy stuff all around me, I sometimes long for the checkerboard or crazy quilt patterns of alternating wheat, stubble, fallow fields across the landscape.

Walla Walla is just south of the Palouse, that southeastern Washington area of rolling hills and wheat fields. Its location in the Walla Walla valley, a green oasis of many small streams, lush grass, fertile loess (look it up), and blue skies, is surrounded by dry land wheat and pea farms. This countryside was home to the Nez Perce, Umatilla, Walla Walla and Cayuse nations in the early centuries, usurped by white settlers in the 19th century, and now attracts oenologists, green activists, artists, writers, and others interested in preserving and telling the story of this beautiful place.

In the near distance roll up the Blue Mountains, their lower flanks checkerboarded with fields, their ravines furred by cottonwoods and tiny streamlets. The Blues were formidable obstacles to wagon trains, back in the day, and we hope they will be formidable obstacles to developers as well, though I'm not optimistic, given how condos and McMansions are springing up even in Walla Walla.

Anyhow, it was a wonderful trip, and the one thing I was concerned about---that going on this jaunt with parishioners (it was an auction item offered last spring) would be problematic---did not develop. It was a immense pleasure to share these days with them and it became a good opportunity to spend relaxed time with good folks.

Working Ahead in the Book

I can tell I'm bored this afternoon, waiting for 3 p.m. to roll around so I can go over to the chapel where we have our church services and help get things ready for 4 p.m. I'm also wanting to post a lot before I take a three day hiatus.

Here's a quiz that was fun, even though it was on gURL and I had to fake it on some of the questions, since they are geared for younger folks.

I took the "The Color Personality" quiz on gURL.com
		My personality is... blue You're a cool and collected blue... According to color psychology, you're the very picture of serenity. You're probably great at keeping calm and clear-headed when others are freaking out... Read more... What color is your personality?

The City They Liked So Well They Named It Twice

Tomorrow morning, I'm going with a group to Walla Walla, Washington, for a tour of the wine country there. SInce I spent ten years of my life in Athena, Oregon, which is 26 miles from Walla Walla, I have lots of memories of this area. We'll be there from Monday through Wednesday, and I am very much looking forward to the trip.

Most of my memories of Walla Walla have to do with shopping trips to that "big" city to spend my pea harvest earnings on new school clothes. We'd occasionally go there for a church meeting or our high school team would play a nearby town in football or basketball. Walla Walla was definitely the big city for us; it was slightly bigger than Pendleton, it had the Washington State penitentiary there, and two colleges. It was far more sophisticated than Pendleton, which only had the RoundUp and the Woolen Mills to recommend it.

Pendleton was closer to Athena but not as intriguing. Walla Walla also had the Whitman Massacre memorial, where the Cayuse tribe, infected with disease by the incessant stream of white settlers on their way to Oregon, did away with Marcus and Narcissa Whitman and their family and friends, an event that was not quite accurately reported for many years, in an effort to downplay the negative effects of white settlerism on the Oregon Trail, which crosses the Blue Mountains between Walla Walla and Pendleton.

Nowadays, Walla Walla has improved its reputation quite a bit more, with the popularity of the Walla Walla sweet onion, the zillions of wineries which have found the hot summer days and cool nights to be good vineyard conditions, and the influx of wine industry mavens. Property and housing prices have shot up drastically, fine dining is actually a possibility, and the Marcus Whitman hotel has become quite the lodging house.

I remember driving with my sister to Walla Walla to buy school clothes before my senior year in high school. I had not had my driver's license long and on the way back home, we were overtaken by one of the legendary dust storms that hit the area occasionally in the summer. All I could do was stop the car, roll up the windows, and hunker down and wait till it blew over. My sister's version of the story has us creeping along the highway in the swirling clouds of dust; I am more inclined to like my version, which seems more characteristic of who I was in those days. Dust storms were pernicious; even with tightly closed windows, we were filthy when we got home much later. The storm would have likely lasted for a couple of hours. And driving in it down a narrow two lane road would have been suicidal, for humans and for the car's engine. Hunkering was about all we could have done. But my sister's versions of our childhood are often more colorful than mine, so I don't argue with her much!

Anyhow, I'll be gone till Wednesday night, so don't wait up.

"I see the valley of the Double Wallas, Double Wallas, Double Wallas,
I see the valley of the Double Wallas, Walla Walla, Washington.*

*what we would sing when we topped a rise north of Milton Freewater, OR, and could see Walla Walla ahead of us.

Experiencing the Mystery and Wonder

Here is the sermon I'll be preaching this afternoon at the UU Congregation of Whidbey Island. I'll let you know how it goes.

SOURCE #1: EXPERIENCING THE MYSTERY
Rev. Kit Ketcham, Sept. 23, 2007

I’d like to invite you to turn in your hymnal to one of the first pages and let’s take a look at what we find there. The Seven Principles of Unitarian Universalism are what we usually consider the most important aspect of UUism. The Seven Principles outline how we covenant to be with one another and with the earth and many a sermon series has revolved around the meaning and importance of these Principles.

We consider the Sources of Unitarian Universalism much less frequently. In fact, I googled “Sources of UUism” and found fewer than 10 references to sermons based on the Six Sources -----across the UUA over the past several years. And yet they form the backbone of our history, they tie us to other religious traditions and to a long line of religious heroes and thinkers.

I believe that, out of a lack of understanding of our roots, we UUs often struggle with our religious identity and purpose. We are more inclined to say what we don’t believe than what we do believe, and I think this has to do with a lack of knowledge about our Sources, the wellsprings from which we flow, as a religious faith.

I did notice in the list of references that Google produced that many religious education courses about the Sources are taught to both children and youth and occasionally to adults. And much as I approve of infusing our children and youth with a strong sense of Unitarian Universalist identity and connection, I am struck by how important it is for us adults to have that same understanding of who we are as a faith tradition and where we come from.

So last spring the Worship Committee and I decided that we would experiment with theming this year together, using the Six Sources as our dominant theme for services. This means that every month I will preach on one of the Sources and will also offer a Conversation evening during the following week, to give us a chance to share our own experience with that Source and to find the ways it enhances our own religious thinking.

Five of the Six Sources of Unitarian Universalism were drafted and voted into usage in the 1980’s at about the same time as our Seven Principles. The Sixth Source, which refers to earth-centered religions, was adopted at the General Assembly in Spokane Washington in 1995. Perhaps some of you were there and voted this Source in. I was and I did vote yes, not realizing what a momentous occasion it was to recognize the importance of indigenous religion in the developing theology of Unitarian Universalism.

Do you still have your hymnal open? Let’s read together that first Source, including the introductory statement: The Living Tradition we share draws from many sources: Direct experience of that transcending mystery and wonder, affirmed in all cultures, which moves us to a renewal of the spirit and an openness to the forces that create and uphold life.

Direct experience of transcending mystery and wonder, affirmed in all cultures, moving us to a renewal of spirit and opening us to the forces of life. Wow! There’s a lot packed into that statement.

Let’s unpack it a little bit. I invite you to close your eyes, let your mind drift for a moment, and then let it settle on some experience you may have had, a time when perhaps you received some insight, some wisdom, some sense of connection with the universe, some sense of great love. Just stay in that place for a moment, reliving it in your heart and mind.

Think about the moment. You may have had physical sensations, of goosebumps or a sense of weightlessness or removed-ness or perhaps of deep joining. You may have found it pleasant or frightening. You may not have had words to describe it or you may have gasped or sighed in response. Let yourself recall any sensations you may have had.

Think about the context. What had been happening in your life up to that point? Was it a joyful time in your life? A time of grief? Of illness? Of boredom? Of new love? Can you put a finger on anything that might have influenced the opening of a door for you spiritually?

When you’re ready to do so, feel free to open your eyes and we’ll go on.

A few years ago, I told you of an experience from my life that has profoundly affected me ever since. In a moment I’d like to retell that story and use it as an illustration of how we often receive a direct experience of transcending mystery and wonder. Because you doubtless have had similar moments, perhaps unrecognized at the time, and these experiences are much the reason why UUism is a unique religious faith.

We do not require that those who join us have religious experiences that are tied to doctrines or to a deity or to a particular prophet. We know that each person’s life offers meaning and insight into the human spirit and its relationship with other living beings and with the mystery of the universe. And we feel that this experience is so important that we acknowledge it as a Source of our faith.

We are not “woowoo” about this, though some of us delve more deeply into spiritual matters than others. But we rely on our own experiences in life to guide us spiritually. This is different from most other religions.

Here’s the story: It was June, 1994. I’d been driving Interstate 80 since dawn, from Farewell Bend on the Snake River in eastern Oregon where I’d camped in my van the night before. I was returning to Colorado after burying my mother, crossing the hot dry deserts of southern Idaho and over the border into Utah, pondering the lessons of her life and death and crying as I drove, my tears drying almost as soon as they appeared, in the hot blast coming through the open window. And now I was beyond tiredness, in that late afternoon state of mind where rational thought and fantasy merge, and reality has a fuzzy edge.



I’d been seeing a lot of hawks poised on telephone poles or circling overhead, their broad wings barely flickering to stay afloat. My mother had loved birds, and hawks and eagles were interesting to both of us. Each bird felt like a message, but in my emotional state, I couldn’t quite figure it out. 



Every redtail or northern harrier caused me a fresh pang, and by the time I reached the outskirts of Salt Lake City, I had exhausted my tear ducts and my brain.



I wanted to be back in Colorado as soon as I could. I prefer U.S. Highway 40, through the mountains, but I had no idea how to find it in the maze of interstates, beltways, and smaller roads that interlace the Salt Lake valley.



I drove south into SLC, peering through my foggy contact lenses at unintelligible signs, looking for landmarks. Nothing. I realized I was in the far left lane of a 6-lane interstate and, in my weariness, nearly sideswiped another car as I tried to pull the huge van over so I could read my map.



At last came a break in traffic, and I eased over to the shoulder, cringing for fear I had missed seeing some hapless little car in my mirror, and half-expecting to feel a sickening crunch. But I made it, stopped the van, and, once again, the tears came. I was safe, I hadn’t hit anyone, but I was exhausted and bereft.



Suddenly, in my rearview mirror, I saw the ominous blink--blue and red, blue and red. “Oh no,” I thought, and hastily mopped my eyes as I fumbled for my car registration.



There appeared at the driverside window a short stocky cop, his hat pushed back on his head, his face serious and concerned. I braced myself for the worst, assuming he’d seen my near-accident, but in a voice of infinite kindness, he just asked, “Lady, are you lost?” 



That man could not have known just how lost I was. I couldn’t find myself on any map--neither the map of Utah nor the map of my life. I didn’t know where I was after my mother’s death; I only knew I needed to go home.
I don’t know what I said to him, besides asking how to find route 40, but he neither remarked on my tears nor ticketed me, and within a few minutes I was on my way again. 



As I topped the last long hill up out of Salt Lake City, my eye fell upon the broad winged silhouette of another redtailed hawk, soaring just above the horizon.



And all the confused, jumbled thinking that I’d been doing all day--the memories of my mother, my grief at losing her, my anger at all the years I’d felt motherless because of my own rejection of her religious beliefs and because of her illness, the link to birds and mountains and all of nature, the incandescent flame of her unconditional love for me---all these coalesced into one single thought: I AM NOT ALONE. I AM NOT ALONE. I AM IN THE ARMS OF THE UNIVERSE, I AM IN THE ARMS OF GOD.


That knowledge has reverberated for me down the thirteen years since it happened. Before that time I had not experienced much spiritually. It was before I began my seminary training, though I had felt a call to ministry. But I had, over the years, insulated myself from profound emotional responses. I had not let myself feel much; I was always busy trying to help junior high kids deal with their emotions, or staying afloat after my divorce, or driving gloomy thoughts away with a deliberate discipline of cheerfulness.

But when my mother died, it hit me like few other losses had hit me. I had learned by then that “stiff upper lip” was not really the best response to loss, that I had many other feelings. And I wanted to let myself experience them.

This experience of transcending mystery and wonder, to use the language of our First Source, was a gateway for me and since then I have come to recognize spiritual experiences more often and more clearly.

One of the things I’m most queried about, as a minister, is spirituality and spiritual experience. How is it different from religion? Is it important? What is it, anyhow?

I have normally defined religion as a public expression of my relationship with the universe, or God, if you find that word meaningful. It happens in community, it is strengthened by my relationships with others, and it gives me an external outlet for my efforts to make the world a better place.

Spirituality for me is a private expression of my relationship with the universe, or God. It is my internal awareness of the beauty of each of life’s moments. It is available to me always, if I am mindful. Most of my spiritual experiences I don’t share; most of them I savor privately and ponder privately.

I was with a young couple this summer, preparing for their wedding, and the young man observed that he and his fiancée were different in how they approached spirituality. He wondered about spiritual experience and how to increase it in his life.

I looked at him and his fiancée sitting on my couch in the morning sunshine, he with his arm around her, my cat Loosy on her lap, and I had a revelation, which I tried to put into words.


“Here we are, the three of us, talking about how to make the ceremony of your marriage meaningful and beautiful, not just for yourselves but also for your friends and family. That in itself is a spiritual act.

“You are sitting in the sunshine, basking in its warmth, savoring the relationship between you and her. That is itself a spiritual moment.

“She is next to you, enjoying your arm around her, petting an animal on her lap as it purrs and expresses its enjoyment of her care. That too is a spiritual experience.

“Every moment of our lives has the potential to be a spiritual experience, whether it’s a joyous or sorrowful or so-called ordinary moment. It is our mindfulness, our awareness, that gives it meaning and importance. We can call spiritual experience into our lives just by noticing it.”

Remember last spring when many of us here attended the Chaminade concert, offered by a small trio of musicians whose members are all connected through this community. It was a wonderful experience for many of us, I suspect, to see their intensity, their virtuosity, and to feel the waves of music which broke over us as they played.

It could have been just a performance, an excellent one, but for me it was more, because I know these musicians, as do you. I know their lives, their hopes, their sorrows. And I saw how the music filled them and us, how their gift of the music was sacred, holy. The music and the musicians filled us with joy that night and it was indeed a spiritual experience.

Unitarian Universalism has at its heart the myriad spiritual experiences of all of us who gather together around the flaming chalice. Our individual and collective spiritual lives are the bedrock, the origin, the foundation of our religious faith. From our direct experience of mystery and wonder, we shape our deepest understandings and convictions.

We need not use a doctrine or a deity or a prophet to build our spiritual lives around. We are free to trust our own experience and understandings of the universe on which to build our faith. And that is what I find so compelling about UUism, that we are trustworthy as spiritual beings, that our humanity can show us the way to a fuller, deeper way of life.

Let’s pause for a time of silent reflection and prayer.


BENEDICTION:
Our worship service, our time of shaping worth together, is ended, but our service to the world begins again as we leave this place. Let us go in peace, remembering that many moments of our lives have the potential to be spiritual experiences. May we savor those moments and bring them with us into our lives together here in this beloved community. Amen, Shalom, Salaam, and Blessed Be.

The Sources of Unitarian Universalism--#1

I finished the almost-final draft of Sunday's sermon, the topic of which is Source #1: "direct experience of that transcending mystery and wonder, affirmed in all cultures, which moves us to a renewal of the spirit and an openness to the forces that create and uphold life" and the more time I spent on it, thinking and writing, the more convinced I have become that the Sources hold far more depth and inspiration for UUs than the Principles, worthy though they are.

The Sources are our history, our wellsprings, our path through time. A student of the Sources will understand, during his/her study (IMHO) what it means to be Unitarian Universalist, that we are not just a conglomeration of liberal thinkers trying to get along in the world and spruce things up a bit. We are a living organism, like the ocean, with many streams contributing to our nature and character, all of which are essential, all of which are evolving together, each of which contributes a complete ecosystem to the larger whole.

Do you realize what it means that our First Source is "direct human spiritual experience"? We do not require those who join us to build their spiritual life around a doctrine, a deity, or a prophet. We believe that human beings can find and experience spiritual growth without these things, noble as they are. We know that each person's life offers meaning and insight into the human spirit and its relationship with other living beings and with the mystery of the universe. And we believe that this experience is so important that we acknowledge it as a Source of our faith. The First Source, as a matter of fact.

I further have come to think that out of a lack of understanding of our Sources, our roots, we Unitarian Universalists often struggle with our religious identity and purpose. We are more inclined to say what we don't believe than what we do believe, and I think this has to do with a lack of knowledge about our Sources, the wellsprings from which we flow, as a religious faith.

So I'm looking forward to Sunday and speaking on this topic. I'm excited about the Conversation we'll have later on in the week, where I hope we'll be able to delve more deeply into our own experiences. And I'm looking forward also to subsequent months where I'll preach about each of the Sources in greater depth. I'll publish the sermon on the blog Sunday night.

This just in...

I got an email just now from my friend the rector at the local Episcopal church and his signature includes this quote:

"A literalist interpretation of Scripture tells us that God is a rock that sent a bird to cause a virgin to give birth to a loaf of bread. And this is supposed to be an improvement on obtaining a chiseled code of conduct from a flaming shrubbery in a cloud. If a literal understanding is all that is required for faith, then I'm a yellow ducky." Rabbi Ben Sylva

Welcome to....Elderhood

During the past week, I have had a few medical appointments associated with my reaching the exalted age of 65. The first was a "Welcome to Medicare" visit to my local physician's office, where I was poked and prodded and examined minutely in various areas, asked numerous questions about my habits, weighed, measured, scolded a little bit about the weight, and given phone numbers and authorization forms for several additional tests, all to verify exactly the state of my health, so that there will be fewer surprises, I presume, as I get older.

A few days later, I showed up again, hungry and decaffeinated, at 8 a.m. for a blood-letting, and this morning, once again unfed and uncoffee-ed, I had an abdominal ultrasound to see if my aorta looked like it orta. After heart-related surgery in 2007, I've noticed that docs want to make sure that things continue to be in good working order, and an aortic aneurysm is something they look for. I doubt anything will show up that needs to be addressed, but you never know.

The upshot of all this medical attention, coupled with friends who are undergoing treatments for cancer and other ailments, is that I am on high alert health-wise. And I've noticed that I am counting each twinge, each extra heart beat, each moment of minor forgetfulness, as though I'm taking my health temperature constantly, measuring each deviation as it occurs just in case I'm about to drop dead.

I think, morbidly, okay, if I did fall down the stairs and break my neck or have a massive myocardial infarction (isn't that a hilarious word?), how soon would someone miss me? What would the cats do? (I don't want to think about this one too hard, as both Loosy and LIly are quite willing to eat whatever presents itself. I would hope it would not include me. But maybe that's better than their starving to death. You can see just how morbid I can get!)

So all the medical stuff is both anxiety-producing and comforting at the same time. If there's anything amiss, I'll be learning about it. If there's not, that in itself is reason to quit worrying. But not knowing is the hardest thing in the world to me. It may be related to my Super J status in my Myers-Briggs personality type (ENFJ); I want to know---at least usually. But do I want to do what is necessary to fix it? That remains to be seen.

When I learned I had an atrial septal defect and that it had the potential of shortening my life by 10-15 years, I said yes, I do want to get it fixed, even though it meant open heart surgery. And that went well. I learned what a boon it is to have adequate oxygen in my system. But do I want to take drugs for the ills of older age? My blood pressure is slightly higher than it should be. My cholesterol too. So far that's about it. Upping my exercise and diminishing my fat intake are easy and things I've already begun to implement.

But beyond that? I really don't know for sure.

The end of a good day

I wasn't sure it was going to be a good day and I felt a little anxious this morning as I boarded the 8 a.m. ferry. But the meeting I had been dreading turned out to be pretty positive and a visit with a very ill parishioner who is at a nursing home off-island was better than I could have anticipated. So now I'm home, with frozen pizza for supper, and am now catching up on email and blogs.

I found this quiz and decided it looked interesting. I like to post every day, but tonight I'm just going to give you this.

You Are Sunrise

You enjoy living a slow, fulfilling life. You enjoy living every moment, no matter how ordinary. You are a person of reflection and meditation. You start and end every day by looking inward. Caring and giving, you enjoy making people happy. You're often cooking for friends or buying them gifts. All in all, you know how to love life for what it is - not for how it should be.

What Time Of Day Are You?

Direct Experience of that Transcending Mystery and Wonder....

This Sunday I'll be preaching on the First Source of Unitarian Universalism: direct experience of that transcending mystery and wonder affirmed in all cultures which moves us to a renewal of the spirit and an openness to the forces that create and uphold life.

I'm working on that sermon this afternoon and, in thinking about how I might illustrate it, found this story from my own life.

It was June, 1994. I’d been driving Interstate 80 since dawn, from Farewell Bend on the Snake River where I’d camped in my van the night before. I was returning to Colorado after burying my mother, crossing the hot dry deserts of southern Idaho and over the border into Utah, pondering the lessons of her life and death and crying as I drove, my tears drying almost as soon as they appeared, in the hot blast coming through the open window. And now I was beyond tiredness, in that late afternoon state of mind where rational thought and fantasy merge, and reality has a fuzzy edge.

I’d been seeing a lot of hawks poised on telephone poles or circling overhead, their broad wings barely flickering to stay afloat. My mother had loved birds and hawks and eagles were interesting to both of us. Each bird felt like a message, but in my emotional state, I couldn’t quite figure it out.

Every redtail or northern harrier caused me a fresh pang, and by the time I reached the outskirts of Salt Lake City, I had exhausted my tear ducts and my brain.

I wanted to be back in Colorado as soon as I could. I prefer U.S. Highway 40, through the mountains, but I had no idea how to find Highway 40 in the maze of interstates, beltways, and smaller roads that interlace the Salt Lake valley.

I drove south into SLC, peering through my foggy contact lenses at unintelligible signs, looking for landmarks. Nothing. I realized I was in the far left lane of a 6-lane interstate and, in my weariness, nearly sideswiped another car as I tried to pull the huge van over so I could read my map.

At last came a break in traffic, and I eased over to the shoulder, cringing for fear I had missed seeing some hapless little car in my mirror, and half-expecting to feel a sickening crunch. But I made it, stopped the van, and, once again, the tears came. I was safe, I hadn’t hit anyone, but I was exhausted and bereft.

Suddenly, in my rearview mirror, I saw the ominous blink--blue and red, blue and red. “Oh no,” I thought, and hastily mopped my eyes as I fumbled for my car registration.

There appeared at the driverside window a short stocky cop, his hat pushed back on his head, his face serious and concerned. I braced myself for the worst, assuming he’d seen my near-accident, but in a voice of infinite kindness, he just asked, “Lady, are you lost?”

That man could not have known just how lost I was. I couldn’t find myself on any map--neither the map of Utah nor the map of my life. I didn’t know where I was after my mother’s death; I only knew I needed to go home. I don’t know what I said to him, besides asking how to find route 40, but he neither remarked on my tears nor ticketed me, and within a few minutes I was on my way again.

As I topped the last long hill up out of Salt Lake City, my eye fell upon the broad winged silhouette of another redtailed hawk, soaring just above the horizon.

And all the confused, jumbled thinking that I’d been doing all day--the memories of my mother, my grief at losing her, my anger at all the years I’d felt motherless because of my own rejection of her religious beliefs and because of her illness, the link to birds and mountains and all of nature, the incandescent flame of her unconditional love for me---all these coalesced into one single thought:
I AM NOT ALONE. I AM NOT ALONE. I AM IN THE ARMS OF THE UNIVERSE, I AM IN THE ARMS OF GOD.

What a difference a day makes....

It's about 11 a.m. and I feel radically different from how I was feeling yesterday at this same time. Yesterday I was pretty stressed by the prospect of doing this wedding in the rain, much later than it was scheduled, without a rehearsal, and queasy to boot from a weekend of weird meals and little exercise. Even after it was successfully completed and it was clear that everyone had had a wonderful experience, my malaise had continued and had not lifted by the time I headed off for church, about 3:30 p.m. (we have afternoon services since we rent from the Lutherans and they get prime time).

But as mentioned in the previous post, church always helps me, even when it's not the greatest service. It renews me to be with other people of my faith. Marvelously, the guest speaker said the kinds of things I needed most to hear. In addition, one of the mysteries about a dear congregant who is very ill was cleared up for me and I found my distress about that situation lessening as I understood it better. This person is still in grave danger but understanding more about the roots of the problem has helped me feel better able to handle it.

I want to refer back to an exchange in the comments from an earlier post "Sunday Morning Ponderings". Jamie mentioned how hungry he felt for ministers to be more open about their personal pain; Juffie answered that she has been hungry for that too but has had mixed experiences with it.

Yesterday a congregant asked me how I was doing and I said, essentially, "I'm okay but I'm really tired and concerned about some things." And this congregant, whom I like very much, urged me to call if I needed someone to talk with. I trust this person and I might tell this person a few things, but the truth is that my concerns usually revolve around the congregation and I am entrusted with knowledge and have opinions that I simply can't share. I am also aware that I might let slip observations about people in the congregation that are best kept to myself, even if they're not confidential. I don't want to reveal that I find soandso less than charming, for example. It's simply offensive to do that, though I am expected to listen sympathetically to someone else say that! It's part of the conundrum that is ministry.

Chance, over on Making Chutney, referred to this conundrum in a recent post. I haven't checked the comments there today but will head on over soon to see where people are with it. He linked his post to an earlier one I wrote about ministerial pain.

I also know that part of my radical change of mood is due to the fact that many stressful events are now behind me and the new church year looms ahead, bright and shiny. I'm excited about preaching this coming Sunday about Source #1 and then preparing for the Conversation which will follow the next Saturday night. I've learned that a lot of people are planning to attend, which may stretch the walls of my house, but I'm looking forward to it!

Perked up and Revivified

It helps to go to church. Our speaker this afternoon was Fritz Hull, founder of the Whidbey Institute and assorted other roles, longtime Whidbey Islander, and wise man. He spoke about Hope. I liked it. We sang. The kids were dear. The congregants were loving. I am refreshed and, though tired, ready to go on. Church helps.

In other news, I helped to officiate a wedding ceremony today between two women, one Jewish, one a former Pentecostal evangelist who lost her ministry and her religion after being outed as a lesbian many years ago. I've known my Jewish friend for over twenty years; we met at Denver Friends of Folk Music way back in the 80's and have sung many a rousing song together. I met her bride to be through music as well, as I began to be involved in the music community here on the Island.

They asked me to co-officiate with their "para-rabbi" (for lack of a better term) on one of the days in between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. It was quite the occasion-------pouring rain, for one thing, with guests huddled under umbrellas and tarps and participants huddled under the chuppah, with lengthy Jewish blessings and chants and me doing a Celtic handfasting ceremony. It was beautiful and funny and chaotic and muddy and great fun. Afterwards, we ate wedding cake and sang and I came home and took a nap.

Sunday morning ponderings

I just sat down and wrote a four page regurgitation of some of the things on my mind this morning. I didn't know how to express any of them appropriately for the blog, so I settled on a private unburdening to relieve the tension I have been experiencing for a couple of days.

It's interesting how effective this is for me. My cats are usually the ones who hear my complaints and worries and they are not the best audience, focused as they are on licking their fur, begging for food, whining for petting, etc. It's hard to feel that they are really very concerned about my myriad concerns. And it's not appropriate for me to talk about my worries and resentments to parishioners because my feelings are often not very ministerial in nature and occasionally they are related to parishioners. I won't post my rant on the blog because I don't want to get in the habit of posting stuff that is just plain negative. It's just not me. And anyhow, you would be incredibly bored!

So when I get down in the dumps, I tend to pull up a blank document on the computer and let 'er rip, writing down exactly what I think and feel about whatever it is that's got me down. I say all the things I would never say to anyone but a shrink. I try to be accurate and I write out every badass feeling and inclination I've experienced about the situation. I acknowledge where I may have gone wrong and I also blame other people when it feels right. I use bad language. I express intense dislike of people I dislike intensely. And when it's all written down, I read it out loud and see if I've got it all right, adding what I need to add. I save the document and may reread it later or I may trash it.

Doing this gives me the relief that comes from saying just exactly what's on my mind, no holds barred. I can't do this anywhere else but privately. If any of my dear congregants are reading this, they should rest assured that there is nothing in this rant about any of them! It's largely ways I have let myself down or have let others down. It's an effort to be honest about what I've done that's not up to my own high standards and to look at how I might have behaved differently or might behave differently in the future.

I guess you could call it a written prayer.

I wish for you...

I was reminded of this lovely poem after reading Lizard Eater's post today and left it as a comment for her. But it so represents what I'm feeling today that I thought I'd post it here too.

I wish for you a troubled heart at times
As woes of world and friend come close beside
And keep you sleepless.
I wish for you the thrill of knowing
Who you are,
Where you stand,
And why.
Especially why.
Not prosperity, but dreams I wish for you;
Not riches, but a sense of your own worth I wish
For you.
Not even long life, however proud we'd be to have it so.
But life that is crammed with living,
Hour by hour.
And love I wish for you;
May you give it frequently.
I wish for you solitude in the midst of company,
And a mind full of company within your quiet times.
Full todays I wish for you, and full tomorrows.

Charles Stephens, "Some Wishes for You," in The Gift of the Ordinary (Boston: Unitarian Universalist Association, 1985)

Ministering at a distance

One of the challenges of ministry I'm dealing with right now is ministering appropriately to people who are not where I can see them, touch them, talk to them, or otherwise provide direct service. I think particularly of folks who are sick and housed in locations I can't get to. There is a sense of frustration and impotence for me and I feel very sad about it. One of the only things I have to offer as a pastor is my presence, and I can't give that to these people. And it's beyond my control, because family and other needs take precedence over my need to be there. State and local regulations prohibit or at least create barriers to caring for these folks on the island (no beds, basically) and they have had to be taken to locations on the mainland.

So I"m left with prayer and contacts with the family and friends who have time to communicate with me. That has to be enough right now.

Rene at Rockhoppers, my favorite artist!

Check out Rockhoppers Coffee Shop website! Rene and I futzed around on a design for a folk-art headboard to grace the bed that my sister and her husband sleep in when they visit me here, and this is what we came up with. You can't see all the great detail in the photo, but you can get a sense of the color scheme and the great whimsical beauty of the design.

I also have a small table, chair, and lamp that Rene painted using thrift store bargains. The set is all done in violets and pansies with a checkerboard accent in small areas.

My sister and hubby found the old bedstead at a thrift shop, brought it to Rockhoppers for Rene to fiddle around with, and this is the result. I'm VERY pleased and can hardly wait to get it home to Cottontail Acres for J & P to experience when they come visit in October.

Front Page News!

Here's the complete article in this morning's South Whidbey Record, about our groundbreaking celebration on Sunday. To see a picture of the kids and others planting the little vine maple tree, go here.

UNITARIANS BREAK GROUND FOR CHURCH
By BRIAN KELLY
Sep 12 2007

The Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Whidbey Island put down roots in Freeland on Sunday with a groundbreaking ceremony at its future home just north of town on Highway 525.

For years, the wandering congregation has met at nearby Trinity Lutheran Church. Pastor Jim Lindus told those gathered for a ceremonial tree planting that the Unitarians’ departure from his church reminded him of his visit to the airport the day before, when he put his middle daughter on a flight to Chicago where she’ll be a freshman at Northwestern University.

“I went down to Sea-Tac...put her on a plane, said, ‘Goodbye, honey.’ In some ways, when you guys leave, it’s going to be some of that same feeling,” Lindus said.

“I only mean that in a warm way. Because she needed to go and you need to go. You need to go not because we’re tired of having you...but because this building is going to be a statement about what you value,” the pastor continued.

The Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Whidbey Island got its start 15 years ago. It has since shifted from one temporary home to another.

Lindus said he hopes everyone notices his new neighbors up the hill. “Every time people go up and down this highway, I want them to see this church and say, there’s people who stand for something, there’s people who care. You’ll make our community a better place.”

Standing amid a cathedral of tall fir trees, Rev. Kit Ketcham said she hoped the Unitarian Universalist Congregation’s new church would be built and ready for services within a year. “Many hands, and hearts and minds have brought us to this place in time,” she said. Ketcham recalled the help the church has gotten along its path from others on Whidbey.

“In the past 15 years, the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Whidbey Island has worked to establish itself as a community of love and justice. In countless rented spaces, we have set out and lit our chalice on Sundays,” Ketcham said. “We have borrowed kitchens for our coffee hour, hung our own liturgical symbols alongside others symbols, used other congregations pianos to sign our hymns, sat in others chairs, set out their tables with our literature...always looking forward to the day when we would have our own home.”

Unitarian representatives from the Pacific Northwest District said the Whidbey congregation was taking a remarkable step. “You have worked hard and long and oh, so diligently to get to this point,” said Janine Larsen, district executive for the Pacific Northwest District of the Unitarian Universalist Association. “You’ve had triumphs and disappointments; you’ve suffered together, and you’ve struggled through with dedication and commitment to one another and the larger community of Whidbey Island. You have achieved much, and this is only the start,” Larsen said.

Sandy Welch, building committee chairwoman for the Unitarians’ new church, she said they knew they wouldn’t become a true presence in the Whidbey community until they had their own home. “We are not just constructing a building. There are plenty of buildings in the world, and one more won’t make any difference. We are building a home. And what is a home? It’s a place where you feel like you have the right to be just who you are, and to be accepted in doing so. It’s a place where you can share the burdens of the world.

“It’s a sanctuary. A safe place where you know you belong, even when everyone else seems to reject you,” Welch said. She said it was now time for find helpers to paint, to hammer nails, and to make the church a reality. Every one has a role to play, she added, inviting people to imagine their home when it was finished.

“A home that will stand for welcoming, for tolerance, for diversity. For inclusion, and for the stewardship of this beautiful place,” Welch said.

Ego and ministry

Today as I bask in the congratulatory remarks directed at me about yesterday's very successful groundbreaking celebration, I find an old bugaboo raising its head. It's a failing I have struggled with most of my life and that is the desire to give into and seek out strokes for my ego.

Not that there's anything wrong with having good strong self-esteem, but when I receive compliments and adulation about something I've done, I start getting edgy. It's because I am so aware of how easy it is to be ruled by ego.

I notice my ego-wishes rising when I am overly pleased by compliments or overly hurt by criticism. And today I'm fighting the battle against taking too seriously the nice things said about me as a minister. Other days I fight the battle against taking too seriously the critical things said about me as a minister.

We have all seen public figures who get so much adulation that they become quite addicted to it and end up doing many foolish things in their pursuit of it. Preachers are particularly susceptible to praise (maybe because we get so much non-praise) and it can become an addiction. It also means that the preacher becomes quite susceptible to criticism and gets defensive.

I see these qualities in myself and I strive to find a middle way of living so that neither praise nor blame shapes my day.

And what a day it was!

Back just now (8 p.m.) from the big Ingathering/Groundbreaking celebration on our building site--------what a great experience! Everything went well, our dignitaries all showed up, had a wonderful time, said great things to us, and we had a huge crowd of people (for us), all perched on lawn chairs and picnic tables.

I'm tired as can be tonight-----the Molsons tastes especially delicious and cold right now and I'm exhilaratedly exhausted. What a day!

Thanks for all your good wishes.

Today's the day!

I don't normally get very worked up about Sunday services; I normally feel quite well prepared if I'm preaching, I don't get stage fright, and I feel very connected to my congregation, so even if I goof up, I am pretty sure most will forgive me. But today I have butterflies!

It's not because I'm not prepared, nor is it stage fright or fear about goofing up. I think it's because today really signifies the beginning of something new and thrilling for my dear congregation. Not only do we expect a good-sized crowd today for both services, but we are revealing ourselves in a new way to the larger community. We will have our elected officials speaking. There will be clergy from other congregations. The press will cover our gathering. We will have visitors from all over the area, come to see what we're doing on our little plot of land.

The butterflies I'm experiencing, I think, come from the question in my mind, "will we measure up?" It's kind of like a first date with someone you really want to connect with. I've been scanning my closet, trying to decide what outfit goes with what stole and do I want to wear my robe or is that a little much for a woodsy service. We've tried to clean up our outdoor "cathedral" of the construction detritus, get the bird poop off all the tables, smooth the ground as much as possible, hack back the blackberries and nettles to get them well away from the service site, and generally put our best face on.

As the reservations for the salmon feed continue to climb, we have scrambled to get enough picnic tables, chairs, and the like. We want to make sure that our guests are comfortable, well-welcomed, and don't break a leg on the property. Just as with every first date I've ever gone on, I want to make a good impression, want people to come back, want to reveal UUCWI as a warm, interesting, safe, and inspiring place to be.

Additionally, we have in the past watched other UU congregations in locales like ours (Port Townsend and Port Angeles, for example) grow exponentially when they built their own home. We hope and expect that will happen to us, that when we have a real home of our own we will have lots of visitors and that many of them will become part of our community. But there are no guarantees. Much of that projected growth depends on how we welcome people today, how we welcome them next week and all the weeks to come.

So I'm excited, scared, confident, and hopeful, all at once. I know we have two good services to offer today. One is our annual Ingathering which includes our Water Ceremony, with stories and kids and the novelty of pouring water into a common cup. The other is our Groundbreaking Celebration, with many more visitors and official guests. We're expecting to host up to 100 people today, which is a mammoth number for our little group. And many of those folks come looking to see whether we are someone they want to know better, to experience Unitarian Universalism for themselves, and to consider the possibility of becoming one of us.

First dates are never easy, for either party. I expect that there are folks out there today seesawing over the question "should I go to the UU service or not?" Will curiosity help them overcome their shyness? If they do come, will they be comfortable? Will we make a good first impression? Neither of us will know-----until we decide whether to make a second date.

I've been thinking about how easy it is to spout off...

an idea which I think is funny, wacky, out of the box, and then realize that it may not be in the best of taste. I've done this kind of thing fairly often in my life----responded to something with an off-the-cuff pronouncement and later regretted it, having had my insensitivity pointed out to me. I hate it when I do that!

This morning at the calendaring session for the new church year, I did not use my cutesy acronym WACCOS (Wine and Cheese Conversations on Sources) because another blogger was kind enough to help me see that this could be off-putting to anyone who struggles with alcohol issues. Duh! How come I didn't see that right away? I've struggled with alcohol issues myself and have usually been sensitive to that kind of thing. It takes a word from someone else, sometimes, to see my own blindness (no pun intended). Of course there would have been non-alcoholic beverages at the event---that's not the point. The point is that "wine and cheese" partying is excluding, not including, of some people.

You would think that, after 65 years of doing this sort of thing, I would have figured out that this trait could get me in trouble. But noooooooo, I have to re-remember it every few weeks! It's funny, almost, that someone like me who bends over backwards not to get in trouble would do this so unthinkingly on occasion. And when it does happen, I'm a bit embarrassed and do what I can to remedy my error, but you'd think I'd learn!

What I have learned is how to make amends, how to offer a sincere apology, how to avoid the same mistake next time. I just haven't learned how to avoid making different mistakes the next time! Some of it is my natural exuberance leaking out; some of it is forgetting that when I'm acting in a ministerial role, I have to be careful. But it puts a crimp in some of my relationships with people and I really regret that. Thanks to Ellis for her kindness in helping me see it this time.

Hmmm, this wouldn't be such a bad thing...

I've been spending a good deal of time with a friend who is in hospice these days. It's not been an easy thing to do. My friend has a lot of pain, sometimes my friend is confused and even paranoid, not recognizing people around her. So my thoughts have been anxious and full of concern for her wellbeing, even as she is dying. As a pastor, I'm supposed to know something about comforting people in a situation like this, but I'm not much better than anyone else. And yesterday we agreed that my just being there is better than any words.

So it lightened my load this morning to discover this quiz.

I took the "if you were a ghost..." quiz on gURL.com
		I am a... guide spirit Always watchful, the guide spirit is one spectre that lights the way for others. Call it compassion or just plain kindness, but it seems like you often fill a "guardian angel" role. Read more... What kind of ghost are you?

Spirituality in the movies

I'm getting excited about a new thing I'm going to try during this church year. The Worship Committee and I agreed that we would experiment with "theming" the church year and the theme we decided on was the Sources of Unitarian Universalism. You know the Sources---they're on the same page as the Principles in the hymnal---but we rarely delve into them very deeply. We mostly take them for granted.

As I thought about this theme during the summer, I started to get more and more excited. This is an opportunity to see the history of UUism in a new way: through the writings, ideas, orations, controversies, etc. that have been part of our religious and spiritual development.

Then, serendipitously, I got to thinking about what adult religious education course I might teach this year, with my expanded hours, and it occurred to me that to offer some kind of enrichment conversation around each source would be enjoyable both for me and for participants. Out of this pairing of theming and adult RE came the idea of a series of conversations about the sources, using popular culture in the form of movies or primary sources such as ancient writings or other such illustrative mechanisms.

I am a wacko about acronyms and this was a perfect opportunity to create a new one. Of course, I don't know how my flock will react to the one I've figured out, but I'm open to changing it! What I came up with was "Wine and Cheese Conversations on Sources" or "WACCOS". I think those who will participate may be just wacky enough to like it, but we'll see!

On Sept. 23, I'll be preaching on Source #1, which is stated as "The Living Tradition we share draws from many sources (including): direct experience of that transcending mystery and wonder, affirmed in all cultures, which moves us to a renewal of the spirit and an openness to the forces that create and uphold life." I don't have the sermon figured out yet, and I'll post it when I've preached it, but I did decide what to suggest as preparation for the WACCOS session.

Years ago I watched the movie "Smoke" with Harvey Keitel and William Hurt, Stockard Channing, Forrest Whittaker, and others, and was blown away by the interactions between characters and the depth of character shown by the figures in the movie. The DVD is advertised as a comedy, and it has funny moments, but mostly it is a commentary on the ability of human beings to care for each other.

So in my newsletter blurb about both the sermon and the conversation (I hadn't yet come up with the acronym so didn't advertise it), I suggested, in preparation for the conversation, that participants watch the movie "Smoke". I was pleased to learn recently that a woman in the congregation who also loves this movie has organized a "movie night" showing for anyone who hadn't yet seen it.

Then, on the ministers' chat this morning, an idea was put forth that really interests me. A colleague who blogs intermittently at The Lively Tradition mentioned that for summer services recently, which are all layled, he challenged his worship leaders to use movies as thema for those less formal services, asking congregants to watch the movie prior to the service and the worship leader to speak about the themes of the movie.

Next summer, we will likely offer services all summer, which means adding four July services. That's IF we are actually in our new building by then, of course! This might be an attractive way to do that, so I'll keep it in the back of my mind and suggest it if and when the time comes. Those of you in layled congregations might piggyback on this idea yourselves.

Anyhow, the year is starting off on a very high note! And I'm so glad not to have to travel so much. What a pleasure to be able to stay home and minister!

Creating a moment of meaning

I've spent the earlier part of this week gearing up for this coming Sunday, when we will have our traditional Ingathering and Water Ceremony service at 4 p.m. and then welcome a whole lot of guests at 5 p.m. for our groundbreaking celebration and salmon feed.

Today I had set the task for myself of drafting the homilies for both services. Fortunately, they're both very short, almost not even worth of being called homilies because they are so brief. But that makes them trickier. How do you compress all the meaning and the power of a ceremony in which we pool the essence of our lives in a common cup into three minutes or less? You don't. You hope that those who hear the words and pour the water will do the work with what you offer and you try to set the scene so that they can do that in their own ways, create their own goosebumps, find their own spiritual meaning.

And how, for heaven's sake, do you tell a mixed groups of visitors, guests, and regulars how important it is that we have our own home here? It's vital that I do that right! And I have two minutes to do it in, because of the format of the service! Again, it will have to be the task of those present to take what I say, find their own place in it, and turn it into a spiritual experience.

That's what religious ritual is all about, anyhow, setting a scene, invoking the spirit, doing the best we can with the words, the music, the symbols, and letting each person there make his/her own meaning out of it. Sometimes it happens perfectly, sometimes it happens poorly, but it is not just the leader who makes it happen; it's all of us, each creating from the raw material an experience which will stay with us.

A great adage for those of us who feel sorry for ourselves at times

Reportedly uttered by a little old Southern lady who had had her share of troubles:
"If the mountain was smooth, you couldn't climb it."

One of the ministers on the UUMA chat line gave us a link to a YouTube clip (which I notice James over at Monkey Mind has conveniently embedded on his blog) entitled Amazing Grace/history. I didn't watch the whole thing, but was absolutely stunned by the wisdom in these few words.

Walking a thin line

When a minister leaves a congregation s/he has been serving, there is always the question of how much contact to have with former parishioners. I know of some ministers who have cut off contact entirely, concerned that they not be perceived by any former parishioner as still being "their minister", out of a collegial obligation to the new minister. I know of others who maintain a few connections with former congregants but are very clear with those folks that this is not a minister-congregant relationship any more and that new boundaries need to be considered.

This is particularly the terrain a fulltime settled minister needs to walk; it is also critical terrain for a minister who is retiring from a congregation and yet remaining in the area. Collegial guidelines make it clear that we must not tread on the toes of the incoming minister, that we must support that new ministry, not weaken it by ambivalent relationships with congregants after we leave.

This is often very hard for congregants to understand and accept. We build such strong connections in the course of a ministry that it is painful to cut them off, to transfer those connections to another person, however deserving. It's also hard for ministers to understand and accept. Those strong connections matter to us too.

It's murkier for parttime, consulting ministers. In leaving Vashon this past spring, I was very clear about my responsibility to the new minister, who had not yet been selected, and people understood and accepted what I was saying. But in the search and selection process, difficulties arose and it was hard not to give advice, hard not to sympathize or opinionize about the process. The question in my mind became "what if they don't find a minister? what is my collegial duty then?" So I listened to the difficulty, referred the committee to the Ministerial Settlement Rep instead of giving advice, and offered support but few opinions.

Over the summer I've had occasion to see members of the Vashon flock on a casual basis and during these times, I have steered as clear as possible of the pitfalls of too much connection. But it's hard! I love them and want the best for them, even though I am not serving them any more. I don't seek them out, but when they call and say "I'm going to be on Whidbey, can we have coffee?" I've said yes. But during that coffee date, I'm aware of the need to weaken that link----kindly, respectfully, but firmly.

It's like the process of letting go of an adult child-------their relationships have to change and mature and we have to let them change. In fact, we have to insist upon it.

Getting ready for a big day!

Today was our final 10 a.m. service on the land. Next week we return (temporarily, I hope) to our 4 p.m. service time. But next Sunday will be different from all other Sundays. At 4 p.m., we will have our annual Ingathering service with a Water Ceremony, music by the kids, and a welcome back to folks we haven't seen much this summer. This service will be shorter than usual; I won't offer much of a homily, in an effort to finish by 4:45 p.m. BECAUSE at 5 p.m., we will have a public celebratory service to kick off our building project!

We have been planning this for weeks. I have sent invitations to our district legislators, our district executive and program consultant, my district colleagues, my local colleagues, the mayors of nearby towns, local activists, and the South Whidbey Record. Six of them have been asked to speak briefly, bringing well wishes and greetings from the groups they represent. Our youth will light the chalice, I'll speak about what it means to have a home of our own, and we will conclude with a rousing march to "When the saints go marching in". We'll end up in a circle and I'll say grace and then we will tuck into large amounts of roast salmon, salad, and other side dishes, plus beverages.

Today after the service, several of us did a little skulling about how to arrange tables, chairs, the firepit, the banners, the mic, and all the logistical details that we need to address. We are so excited! This building is really going to happen! For all of the years I've been here (4), we have been slowly moving toward this moment. We are going to have a home of our own, perhaps as soon as next spring.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Great Simpsons clip over on Monkey Mind

James Ford posted this great clip over on his blog.

To Savor the World or to Save It...

is the title of a poem by the Rev. Richard S. Gilbert and was inspired by this E.B. White quote, which is now part of my email signature.

"It's hard to know when to respond to the seductiveness of the world and when to respond to its challenge. If the world were merely seductive, that would be easy. If it were merely challenging, that would be no problem. But I rise in the morning torn between the desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day." E.B. White

The kind of day that is deeply satisfying to me

is one in which I feel useful, effective, and joyful all in the same twenty four hours!

I'm a list-maker and find that technique the most efficient for keeping both my personal and professional life orderly, or as orderly as possible under the conditions imposed by any particular occasion. I have a running "master" list of things to accomplish over time, usually projecting out a couple of months. The list is divided into "Ministry" and "Home"; the Ministry list has two sections---one entitled "congregation" and one entitled "other". "Congregation" ministry means sermons, people to call, local occasions to mark, etc. "Other" ministry is weddings, speaking gigs, interfaith stuff, etc. The Home list is full of little and big stuff-----oil change, investigate deer-proof perennials, buy season tickets to the theater season, etc.

Daily I make up a short list on a post-it note of the things I want to get done that day: go to the gym, laundry, groceries, call this person or that, visit this one, pay bills. You get the picture. As each item is completed I cross it off. It's a highly satisfactory time management tool. The post-it is 4x6, lined, and I can get a lot of things on it. Often I'll break larger items into chunks---list bills, write checks, mail them---if I am daunted by the magnitude of the job (yes, paying bills sometimes does that to me!).

Yesterday's list had several items, some of them biggies. But in one of those serendipitous rolls of the universe's dice, nearly every item brought me a sense of being in the right place at the right time: my visit to the gym put me in contact with a person I try to keep track of since a death a few months ago and we talked a bit and agreed to get together; a cup of coffee with a newer friend who is a chaplain/priest on the island was full of laughter and some serious talk about social issues and chaplaincy; a visit to the nearby hospice to see someone resulted in a long, deep conversation about death and dying well, finding healing in surrender; and a phone call the night before from someone alerting me to a need in another congregant gave me a chance to check in with someone who was facing the recent death of a close friend and hospitalization of another, a conversation which was good for us both. Even "send so and so an email" to a few people resulted in cheery replies and helpful information. And on top of it all, I got my paycheck in the mail (of course, that means I now have to pay bills!) and a long letter from an old friend who has relocated to Salt Lake City.

And after a tasty home cooked meal, I settled down to watch the movie "Sweet Land", a tender drama about a German mail-order bride who arrives in a small rural community during World War I, to the consternation of the residents. It's a true love story born out of prejudice and redemption. I recommend it.

Today promises to be another good day. I just got back from a "Denver scramble" breakfast at a local cafe, where I enjoyed reading the newspapers over coffee and the aforementioned scrambled egg, hashbrowns, sourdough toast and strawberry jam. In a little while, I'll head for Lavender Wind Farm, where Sarah is having her annual plant sale and I can stock up on deer-proof perennials. A stop at the Coupeville Farmers' Market is in order as well as is a stroll down Coupeville's Main street to check out the Labor Day sales. A nice lunch along the way, planting those perennials, and, after supper, sitting down to watch "Miss Potter", which Netflix has finally been able to send me.

Who knows what other adventures the day might bring? I'll let you know.