To Transcend Ourselves
Reverend Janet Parsons
Gloucester Unitarian Universalist Church
September 18, 2022
She was an unsuccessful author, and was drinking more and more, and struggling to stay afloat. On weekends she would sometimes visit a flea market near her home, where there was a lot of ethnic food and a wide array of people with whom she could blend in. And if she went to the flea market on Sundays she could hear the gospel music wafting out of the small Presbyterian church across the street. Over time, she found herself walking over, maybe once a month or so, to listen to the music, standing in the doorway. She would never stay for the sermon – what if the pastor mentioned Jesus? Sometimes, she said, people would try to greet her, standing there in the doorway, but she described herself as being as stiff as Richard Nixon.
One Sunday she recounts that she was so hung over that she couldn’t stand up for long and so took a folding chair in the back. She lasted through the sermon, and the closing hymn moved her so deeply that her heart opened and she allowed herself to be brought inside, to allow the words to wash over her and enter.
She is the author Anne Lamott, the well-known author of books such as Traveling Mercies, Plan B, and Help, Thanks, Wow. About a year after she found herself able to step inside, she sought baptism at the church. First, she says, she had to warn the pastor that she wasn’t good enough – oh, and by the way, she was insane. His response was: “You’re putting the cart before the horse. So – honey? Come on down!” (Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies, p. 52.)
The author of our reading this morning, Jenny Weil, had a somewhat similar experience. Pregnant, her marriage dissolving, she had relocated across the country to live with her parents and had promptly gotten mugged on the street. She was angry, at herself and at the world, and feeling like a failure. So she too sat in the back of the church for a long time, and observed. But Jenny tells us, “Eventually church life pulls against such isolation, reminding us how the world moves…We are continually reminded that suffering and good fortune come to us all, the best and worst of us. The best and worst are needed, too…. I’d been received with dignity and put to use.” (“The Amazing Grace of Each Other by Jenny Weil, in Not for Ourselves Alone: Theological Essays on Relationship, Burton D. Carley and Laurel Hallman, eds., Skinner House Books, Boston, 2014., p. 85.)
I chose these stories this morning to invite us into a conversation about what I am calling the process of a congregation. For a congregation, of any religious tradition, is a living entity that is continually evolving. For that reason we call ourselves a living tradition. Take a look at the name of the gray hymnal.
We are a living tradition, and we carry out our life and our work within a living community. We, and the larger community are in motion; ever changing, ever responding to changes from outside these walls.
Some of you have heard me say over the years that a congregation is formed by many concentric circles. I first became very aware of that here in Gloucester, as I met people, and found so many people who support us and our beliefs from outside. They are our outermost ring – the 500 + folks who like our Facebook page, the folks who attend the summer Friday night concerts, the people who like to tell me that if they came to church they would come here. We have many more people on our weekly email list than are present on Sundays. They form our outer circle; knowing we’re here and cheering us on, but they don’t offer any commitment.
The next ring would be people who attend our services occasionally; who like what they find here but aren’t quite ready for more. Now that we offer livestreaming of our services, people have the chance to watch, to see whether they think they would be a good fit for us, and we for them. It’s easier than ever before to try out church. You don’t have to stand in the door as stiff as Richard Nixon. In fact, you might be watching and listening and doing yoga poses. Know that you are all welcome.
In the next ring we have our friends; people who actively participate, perhaps contribute money, and get involved in some of our programs, but who might not be joiners. We love having you. We can count on you to help usher, to set up tables, to contribute in all the many aspects of church life.
Over time, people often take a step into the next ring, the membership ring. In our reading, Jenny Weil shared some of what that process felt like for her; a dawning understanding that the church was only going to be as good as she could help make it; as she put it, “if the church needed to be friendlier, I would have to offer my hand in coffee hour.” (Weil, p. 88.). I remember having that realization, back when my husband and I decided we should start attending our nearby UU church – you know – for the sake of the children. Before long, a friend from the kids’ elementary school asked me if I would co-teach religious education with her. To say I was reluctant was an understatement. Me, teach? But I felt that other people were stepping up and teaching my kids, and it was only fair that I should step forward and be willing to teach theirs. The next thing I knew I was on the RE Committee.
And so that growing sense of responsibility, of reciprocity, will draw people into the next ring; active leadership. You see other people saying yes, and your conscience starts to nag you a bit – why not me? Of course, sometimes there is a really good reason to know that it cannot be you, and we love you and you belong here. In my case, I had to admit to myself that I was no different than the other people who had moved into that leadership ring.
In our story this morning, Robin Wall Kimmerer talks about reciprocity; of taking what you need, but finding a way to reciprocate. In the case of plants and animals, reciprocity means saying thank you for their gifts, and finding ways to help sustain them. In a religious community reciprocity means realizing that you have gifts to offer, and when you are ready, when your life has stabilized and you feel safe and stable and connected, to be able to share what you can.
And of course, part of the reciprocity of a religious community is that people are given the flexibility to move between the concentric circles – sometimes stepping forward into leadership and deep commitment to the community, and sometimes finding that it’s time to step back. As I said at the beginning, a church is constantly in process. We are a living tradition, and we change, and move, respond, and lead. Sometimes we are cared for and when we are stronger we care for others. We need all the rings – from the “hey, thanks for hosting the Grace Center” folks all the way to the “Yes, I’ll serve on the Board of Trustees” folks. We need everyone, because we all need to be able to move in and out, back and forth. We are based on reciprocity, of giving and taking as needed.
Now, what creates all this, and what holds it all together, this living, moving set of rings? Well, it’s not our shared religious beliefs. Some of us are atheists, some Christian, some Buddhist, some Jewish, some religious naturalists. We arrive here on Sunday mornings not sure whether our own beliefs will be mentioned. Sometimes we might feel the lack, and sometimes we might be suddenly surprised to discover that we are intrigued by something new to consider. As Anne Lamott wrote, “I was sitting through the sermon now every week and finding that I could not only bear the Jesus talk but was interested, searching for clues.” (Traveling Mercies, p. 51.)
We don’t share beliefs, and we don’t share a creed. We are asked to follow the seven Unitarian Universalist principles, which offer us a roadmap for how to be in the world, from how we treat one another, to how we govern ourselves, to how we participate in the universe. It’s a tall order; people might think this is an easy tradition to follow but if you look closely and take it seriously, you find that it asks a great deal of us.
And so, starting from the seven Principles, we are called to be accountable to one another. How do we treat one another? How do we build a community and sustain it, and be sustained by it? And why?
We do it because we humans are meant to form communities, to live together in community. We build together, and sustain together; sustain the community and sustain one another. We create something larger than ourselves, something that transcends us, and helps carry us not just forward, but toward higher purpose. This is the work of a Unitarian Universalist congregation, and we do it by living in covenant with one another.
Covenant is really a fancy word for promises. We say that marriage is a covenantal relationship: the center of a wedding ceremony is the vows that the couple speak to one another; the promises that they make to one another: to love, honor, and cherish, to care for one another in all kinds of circumstances.
And when people join our church the members offer them these promises, as we said to new members last spring: “We covenant to walk with you as you seek to grow spiritually and to go out to heal our broken world. We promise you our support and our encouragement as we share in the hopes and in the ministries of this historic liberal church. Together, may we continue to grow in wisdom, love, and compassion and be witnesses to the Holy in our world.” In other words, we will be accountable to you, and you to us. Living in covenant helps us to balance the needs of the individual with the needs of the community.
This is the glue, the warp and the weft of the fabric of our community; the foundation that holds us. It is the scaffolding we put into place to support ourselves. Think about scaffolding for just a moment: a rigid structure that might seem confining, but which enables people to climb to new heights.
You and I have a covenant between us, too. It was written for the service of installation we participated in back on April 10, 2016. You had voted to call me as your minister the spring before, but the installation is a formal service that united us and brought us into covenant with each other. It’s been quite a while since that day. In the always-changing life of religious communities, many of the people who were present have left us, and many others have joined us. I, too, left you for a few months of sabbatical, and have returned to you. It seems fitting to return today to that covenant, and to say the words together again, to recommit right now to each other, and to move forward into the future together.
I will now invite the president of our congregation, Holly Tanguay, forward, to lead us in a recreation of the Act of Installation. You’ll find the language on the insert with your order of service.
