In this time when most congregations hold their Annual Business Meetings, I think it’s important to reflect on what a congregation is for. Every congregation has a variety of stakeholders, people who feel a sense of ownership in their church community. And when times of change come around, often in the spring around that Annual Meeting, sometimes those stakeholders butt heads.

Rev. Dan Hotchkiss, a Unitarian Universalist minister and senior consultant at the Alban Institute, has some great insight on this question of ownership and priority. Is the minister in charge? The Board? The largest donors? Or is a congregation more than that?

Who Owns a Congregation?

by Dan Hotchkiss

Comparisons are useful but tricky. New Testament writers compare the church to a human body, a herd of sheep, a bride, and a vineyard. Synagogues are often likened to a house, a tent, or an extended family. None of these analogies is meant to be exact or literal—a church may act in some ways like a herd of sheep, but a wise leader doesn’t plan on it. Poets do exaggerate sometimes.

In the same spirit of poetic license, it may at times it may be useful to compare the clergy leader of a congregation to a corporate CEO, its members to customers or stockholders, or its staff to the employees of a charity. We can draw many useful analogies between congregations, other nonprofits, and businesses, but ultimately congregations need ideas and language of their own. It is easy to say that “the church should run more like a business,” without recognizing that in some respects the church should and does run very differently.

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The balance of science and religion, of the work of humanity versus the ineffable, can be hard to describe. This lovely song by Catherine Faber, set to images by Vu Trong Thu on YouTube, does a beautiful job of speaking to the complexity of the world we live in and seek to understand.

The word God in this piece may cause some readers pause — how do you hear this word in this context? Personally, I find it well in keeping with Rev. Michael Dowd’s treatment — god as the whole of creation, constantly growing and changing.

The Word of God

by Catherine Faber

From desert cliff and mountaintop we trace the wide design,
Strike-slip fault and overthrust and syn and anticline…
We gaze upon creation where erosion makes it known,
And count the countless aeons in the banding of the stone.
Odd, long-vanished creatures and their tracks & shells are found;
Where truth has left its sketches on the slate below the ground.
The patient stone can speak, if we but listen when it talks.
Humans wrote the Bible; God wrote the rocks.

There are those who name the stars, who watch the sky by night,
Seeking out the darkest place, to better see the light.
Long ago, when torture broke the remnant of his will,
Galileo recanted, but the Earth is moving still
High above the mountaintops, where only distance bars,
The truth has left its footprints in the dust between the stars.
We may watch and study or may shudder and deny,
Humans wrote the Bible; God wrote the sky.

By stem and root and branch we trace, by feather, fang and fur,
How the living things that are descend from things that were.
The moss, the kelp, the zebrafish, the very mice and flies,
These tiny, humble, wordless things — how shall they tell us lies?
We are kin to beasts; no other answer can we bring.
The truth has left its fingerprints on every living thing.
Remember, should you have to choose between them in the strife,
Humans wrote the Bible; God wrote life.

And we who listen to the stars, or walk the dusty grade
Or break the very atoms down to see how they are made,
Or study cells, or living things, seek truth with open hand.
The profoundest act of worship is to try to understand.
Deep in flower and in flesh, in star and soil and seed,
The truth has left its living word for anyone to read.
So turn and look where best you think the story is unfurled.
Humans wrote the Bible; God wrote the world.

Source: “The Word of God” by Catherine Faber, video from YouTube by Vu Trong Thu, and poem/lyrics from Echo’s Children. Hat tip, Ms. Kitty.

As we approach Memorial Day, a reading from the Rev. Kathleen McTigue, senior minister of the Unitarian Society of New Haven, Connecticut, along with photographs of memorial gardens at Unitarian Universalist churches across the country.

They Are With Us Still

by Rev. Kathleen McTigue

In the struggles we choose for ourselves, in the ways we move forward in our lives and bring our world forward with us,

First Unitarian Church of Rochester, New York

It is right to remember the names of those who gave us strength in this choice of living. It is right to name the power of hard lives well-lived.

Murray Unitarian Universalist Church in Attleboro, Massachusetts

We share a history with those lives. We belong to the same motion.

They too were strengthened by what had gone before. They too were drawn on by the vision of what might come to be.

First Unitarian Church of Des Moines, Iowa

Those who lived before us, who struggled for justice and suffered injustice before us, have not melted into the dust, and have not disappeared.

Towson Unitarian Universalist Church in Lutherville, Maryland

They are with us still.
The lives they lived hold us steady.

First Parish Church in Weston, Massachusetts

Their words remind us and call us back to ourselves. Their courage and love evoke our own.

We, the living, carry them with us: we are their voices, their hands and their hearts.

Unitarian Society of Hartford, Connecticut

We take them with us, and with them choose the deeper path of living.

Source: “They Are With Us Still” by Rev. Kathleen McTigue, senior minister of the Unitarian Society of New Haven, Connecticut, Reading #721 in Singing the Living Tradition, the current Unitarian Universalist hymnal. Photographs from the websites of the listed churches.

One of the pillars of foundational religious thought that Unitarian Universalism rests upon is that of “Humanist teachings which counsel us to heed the guidance of reason and the results of science, and warn us against idolatries of the mind and spirit” (from the Sources, which are part of our Association’s bylaws). Dictionary.com defines humanism as “any system or mode of thought or action in which human interests, values, and dignity predominate,” or “a variety of ethical theory and practice that emphasizes reason, scientific inquiry, and human fulfillment in the natural world and often rejects the importance of belief in God.”

But what does that look like in practice? The Rev. Dr. Kendyl Gibbons, who serves the First Unitarian Society of Minneapolis, Minnesota, explores a “Humanist Identity” in this sermon from September of 2006. Rev. Gibbons is a member of the board of HUUmanists, and co-dean of The Humanist Institute.

from “Humanist Identity”

by the Rev. Dr. Kendyl Gibbons

Whether we are considering the exercise of leadership in this amorphous and sometimes fractious larger movement of humanism, or examining what is distinctive in our approach to the celebration of community, or bringing the voice of this congregation’s unique perspective into conversation among local Unitarian Universalists, many of us carry with us, as I do, the label of humanism. And as we approach the celebration of our 125th year as an institutional participant in the faith community of Minneapolis, it is worth asking again, what does it mean to be humanist? When we subscribe to that identity as a congregation, what are we claiming for and about ourselves? What resources does that identity offer us, and what kind of accountability does it ask of us? Of course, these questions do not have pat answers –- indeed, they have engaged the attention of some very fine minds for a century and a quarter right here, and I do not expect to dispose of them neatly this morning. Nevertheless, I think there are at least four things we can be assured of about what it means to embrace a humanist identity. It means, first of all, that we own a history together. Second, it means that we affirm a certain set of core values, specifically freedom, reason, and respect. A third implication is that we are engaged in a process of ongoing inquiry. And finally, it means that our conduct in all settings and circumstances, will be seen as representative of how humanists generally think and behave. Let’s unpack each of these four elements a bit.

(Read on … )

Today, many Unitarian Universalists and others are celebrating the ruling of the California Supreme Court, overturning that state’s ban on same-gender marriage. This is an issue that the Unitarian Universalist Association has been actively involved in, promoting the rights of any two people who wish to make the commitment to marriage to do so. Many Unitarian Universalist clergy have refused to sign marriage certificates for any couple until they are legally allowed to sign them for all couples who come before them.

This sermon (PDF), by the Rev. Sue Phillips, offers an inside perspective on the issue, written just after same-gender marriage was legalized in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Rev. Phillips won the 2005 Skinner Sermon Award for this piece, and is currently serving the First Parish Church of Groton, Massachusetts, as their Sabbatical Minister.

On Being an “Issue”

by the Rev. Sue Phillips

I spent months preparing this sermon. I read books on the history of the institution of marriage and how dramatically it has changed over time. I reviewed countless articles in the mainstream press assessing the political and social implications of same-sex marriage. I read and re-read the statements of religious conservatives who assert that opening marriage to gay and lesbian people would diminish the institution they hold to be the thread of our nation’s social fabric. I saved reams of articles that would have helped me offer a spirited political defense of gay marriage. I spent hours trying to understand the historical context out of which the public policy debate about marriage emerged. And I developed impassioned arguments about why gay marriage is an essential civil right. If I were straight, I would have preached about this issue long before I actually did.

But I’m not straight. I’m joyfully, abundantly, thoroughly queer. And so I have to talk to you about what’s ranging around in my heart. This means, of course, that I can’t with any integrity offer reflections on gay marriage as a social “issue,” no matter how much political and historical homework I have done. If I used that kind of intellectual analysis this morning I would be hiding. If I placed the authority for my reflections outside of my own experience it would feel like an act of cowardice, somehow, that keeps me hidden from you. And so it is from my personal experience that I want to speak with you.

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This lovely prayer was written by Elizabeth of “Elizabeth’s Little Blog.” It’s a great reminder that even in the little doings of our daily lives, there are beauties and miracles that can so easily pass us by.

Prayer by Elizabeth

all of all

love of all love, peace of all peace, depth of depth

so often, in the midst of all we do, as we are washing dishes… sending email… going to work… and doing all the things we do day in and day out,

we can forget that our time here on this earth is both a gift and a miracle.

do not let us forget.

because sooner than we think, a tomorrow will come and it will be our last tomorrow and we will have missed the miracle. we will have emailed, and worked, and complained, and watched tv through the miracle.

we will have let the sunrises, the fresh air, the warmth of a bed, the taste of our orange juice, the first snows, and the cricket chirping slip by as we go about doing all of our so important things.

we will have let our pain and struggles and our tasks and achievements and our accumulation of things obscure the enchantment and richness that can be life.

love of all love, peace of peace, depth of depth –

let us find the holy in all that makes up our life.

let us slow down. stop doing. and learn to simply be.

may we find the holy in our coffee, in the spider whose lovely eight legs carry her effortlessly over her web, in the kiss goodnight, in the hot meal, fuzzy blanket, and in the chill of the dark night air. may we be seekers and makers of the holy.

amen and blessed be.

Source: Prayer by Elizabeth of “Elizabeth’s Little Blog,” posted April 8, 2008.

The struggle between individualism and communalism is a common one in many religions, but Unitarian Universalism has a unique position, being without a central creed for the community to fall back upon in times of disagreement. However, we are able to find common ground in our values, our ideals, and our belief that Unitarian Universalism has a saving message that the world needs to hear.

In this short excerpt from his 2006 book, The Audacity of Hope: Thoughts on Reclaiming the American Dream, Senator and presidential candidate Barack Obama articulates the tension that exists between balancing these two ideals, the good of the individual and the good of the community, on a national and cultural level. I find that his words aptly describe the challenges in our church communities as well, particularly churches that are going through times of transition and change.

Senator Obama is not a Unitarian Universalist; he belongs to our sister-denomination, the United Church of Christ, whose core ideals are very much in line with our own.

from The Audacity of Hope: Thoughts on Reclaiming the American Dream

by Senator Barack Obama

At its most elemental level, we understand our liberty in a negative sense. As a general rule we believe in the right to be left alone, and are suspicious of those–whether Big Brother or nosy neighbors–who want to meddle in our business. But we understand our liberty in a more positive sense as well, in the idea of opportunity and the subsidiary values that help realize opportunity–all those homespun virtues that Benjamin Franklin first popularized in Poor Richard’s Alamanack and that have continued to inspire our allegiance through successive generations. The values of self-reliance and self-improvement and risk-taking. The values of drive, discipline, temperance, and hard work. The values of thrift and personal responsibility.

These values are rooted in a basic optimism about life and a faith in free will–a confidence that through pluck and sweat and smarts, each of us can rise above the circumstances of our birth. But these values also express a broader confidence that so long as individual men and women are free to pursue their own interests, society as a whole will prosper. Our system of self-government and our free-market economy depend on the majority of individual Americans adhering to these values. The legitimacy of our government and our economy depend on the degree to which these values are rewarded, which is why the values of equal opportunity and nondiscrimination complement rather than impinge on our liberty.

If we Americans are individualistic at heart, if we instinctively chafe against a past of tribal allegiances, traditions, customs, and castes, it would be a mistake to assume that this is all we are. Our individualism has always been bound by a set of communal values, the glue upon which every healthy society depends. We value the imperatives of family and the cross-generational obligations that family implies. We value community, the neighborliness that expresses itself through raising the barn or coaching the soccer team. We value patriotism and the obligations of citizenship, a sense of duty and sacrifice on behalf of our nation. We value a faith in something bigger than ourselves, whether that something expresses itself in formal religion or ethical precepts. And we value the constellation of behaviors that express our mutual regard for one another: honesty, fairness, humility, kindness, courtesy, and compassion.

Source: from Chapter 2 of The Audacity of Hope: Thoughts on Reclaiming the American Dream by Senator and presidential candidate Barack Obama.

John Ockels, a lay-leader at the Red River Unitarian Universalist Church in Denison, Texas, preached this sermon decrying the “Theology of Running Away” two weeks ago to his congregation. He challenges the notion of religion as constant searching, and encourages us as Unitarian Universalists to put down roots, “Kudzu-style.”

And I, for one, say “AMEN.” How about you?

Shall We Dwell At the River?

by John Ockels

This morning Iʼm here to criticize what I call “The Theology of Running Away.” Enough already with the theology of Singing the Journey, This World Is Not My Home, running-all-over-creation-chasing My Elusive Dreams, and nostalgic floating around in a boat, never quite docking, never quite engaging. “I’ve been sailing all my life now, Never harbor nor port have I known.” Please. Enough with all that. Enough with the theology of always being on a journey. Itʼs officially wearing me out.

This morning I want to argue for an end to all that Hank Thompson “Iʼm Moving On,” “We are going, heaven knows where we are going, Woyaya,” Christopher Columbus, thereʼs a better world over yonder, “Go West Young Man,” Herman Hesse Journey To the East, somewhere over the rainbow, life must be better somewhere else or sometime else stuff. Forget all that. Makes me tired just to think about it.

This morning I want to argue for a radical theology of loving where you are, staying put, spreading out, putting down roots … and taking over. Like a plant. And doing so successfully, like a successful weed. In short I want to argue a theology based on radical engagement where we are standing right now. A theology based on observing how plants interact with their surroundings, not one based on continued roaming predator behavior. A theology of taking over like a weed. A theology of Kudzu.

(Read on … )

Today is May Day, Beltane, a celebration of spring for many people, especially including those who choose the path of earth-centered, or pagan, religious traditions. This creation story comes from Lady Abigail, high priestess of the Ravensgrove Coven in Greenfield, Indiana, and was taught to her by her great-grandmother. It strikes me as a story that would be most welcome in our Unitarian Universalist circles as well.

Mother Earth and Sister Moon: A Beltaine Story of Creation

by Lady Abigail, remembered from her great-grandmother

In the beginning, there was no land and no water, no stars and no sky. Only a great void filled with all that could be. Living within the void was creation, not yet by name for no words had yet been spoken. Silence was the void.

Then like a whispering wind gentle on a summer night, a sound crossed the great void. Our Grandmother of the Night called to the Grandfather of the Day. “Grandfather, do you see we are alone and have no children; our sky is empty and our hearts alone.”

Suddenly, Grandfather Day spoke in a deep thundering voice. “Then we shall have Children: daughters, two daughters.”

(Read on … )