MY UU JOURNEY
Rev. Kit Ketcham
I was an
innocent young Baptist missionary in Denver’s inner city, back in 1965, when I
discovered Unitarians. Among other
duties, I taught a tiny preschool class three mornings a week at the Denver
Christian Center, and the ladies of the First Unitarian Church of Denver
supplied a teacher’s aide, cookies, and juice for my tiny tots. I had never heard of Unitarians before this,
but I sure appreciated their willingness to come down into a tough neighborhood
to help out. First Baptist Church had
not yet shown up.
The die was
cast that Unitarian Universalism was in my future when a handsome young
Unitarian Universalist fellow asked me out to a movie (I think it was Dr.
Zhivago) and subsequently, several months later, asked me to marry him.
With my
husband Larry Gilmore, I attended UU churches, marched in protests against the
Vietnam War, and began to see the limits of the Baptist faith I’d grown up in.
A few years
later, our son Michael was born and we decided we needed to have a church
home. I didn’t think of myself as a UU
at that point; I was still pretty much a Baptist at heart. But on Christmas Eve of 1972, when Mike was
only four months old and screaming his way through the child dedication service
at Jefferson Unitarian Church, I decided that I liked the UU approach to
welcoming children into their midst, and Larry and I signed the membership
book.
At Jefferson
Unitarian Church, I began to compare the lessons and challenges offered by
Unitarian Universalism with the limited outlook of my Baptist upbringing, and
though I could see a great deal of value in those old doctrines of Jesus’
message to serve others, I didn’t see the action I craved.
JUC was
active in the larger community, its hymns did not mention “the blood of the
Lamb” but rather “the starry firmament on high” as an iconic image, and the UU
message of peace and acceptance of all humanity as worthy was balm to my soul
after a lifetime of rules which excluded people and ideas. A religion of seven principles focused on how
humans treated each other and the earth met my needs and I felt myself begin to
blossom into a different person.
When, after
13 years of marriage, Larry and I decided to go our separate ways, our church
did not shame us, nor get nosy about our reasons for divorcing. Our fellow congregants gathered us up,
nurtured all three of us, recognized that we were all hurting, and our
minister, the Rev. Lex Crane, counseled us through those tough times.
In the years
that followed, I found JUC and other UU churches in the Denver area to be a
source of friendships and inspiration that I had not found anywhere else. I joined the all-church social justice
project, refurbishing apartments and clothes closets for local families down on
their luck, and began to consider what else I might do to be involved.
One
memorable September Sunday in 1992, I was part of the Committee on Ministry’s
annual Homecoming service, in which we looked back at the year behind us and
forward toward the coming year in our congregation. Because of my experience as a junior high
school teacher and counselor who was proficient in the ways of public speaking
(or so they thought!), I was asked to give a short homily on our mission as a
congregation and what we had done over the past year.
So I got up
in the pulpit, spoke for a few minutes about the joys and sorrows of our past
year, noticed a few laughs and a few tears in the audience, and sat down
feeling relieved that it was over.
Our minister
at that time, the Rev. Robert Latham, turned to me as he went to the pulpit and
said, in front of the whole congregation and on a microphone, “Kit, you missed
your calling. You ought to be a
minister.”
It was like
a thunderbolt. I could not think of
anything else for the rest of the service, but it wasn’t until a couple of
years later that I could take any steps toward that goal of ministry, which had
overridden every other goal I might have had.
In 1995, the
annual General Assembly of the UUA was in Spokane and I decided to go. It was the first time I’d ever attended such
an event and I was thrilled by the speakers, the workshops, the worship
services.
On the last
day of the event, a worship service called the Service of the Living Tradition
honored the brand-new ministers just becoming eligible for a parish, the
longtime ministers retiring, and the ministers who had died during the past
year.
The processional hymn was “For All the Saints”, which we have just sung together. Its theology
and language are dated and hark back to the olden days when we were closer to
our Christian roots. But there’s a verse
in there that spoke to me that day and speaks to me yet: “And when the strife
is fierce, the conflict long, steals on the ear the distant triumph song, and
hearts are brave again and arms are strong. Alleluia, alleluia.”
Because of
that hope that we can make this world a better place by loving each other and
the world, I have been a staunch Unitarian Universalist since I first signed
that membership book at Jefferson Unitarian Church. It’s been over 40 years of joy and sorrow and
striving and accomplishing. I’ve never
regretted a moment of it.
Let’s pause
for a time of silent reflection and prayer.
BENEDICTION:
As Dave
extinguishes our chalice, let’s pause for our 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 we have a reason to be here---to be
together, to love each other and the world, and to serve those around us. May we find strength together and the
commitment that will carry us through to a better world.
Amen, Shalom, Salaam, and Blessed Be.
CLOSING CIRCLE
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