Filed under: Church Finances and Stewardship, Family Ministry, Sermon Archives and Excerpts | Tags: anxiety, family finances, generosity, money, philanthropy, spirituality, stewardship, tithe, values
Family Minister, Unitarian Universalist Society of Sacramento
February 28, 2010
Introduction
[Minister is holding rural-route mail box on top of his head.
It says PLEDGE CARDS on it.]
Worship Leader: Roger, do you have something on your mind?
Minister: Yes, Judy, I do have something on my mind. It’s been on my mind for several weeks. It was even a little bit on my mind while I was on vacation last week. Can you guess what it is? The stewardship drive is the annual campaign when members and friends make our financial commitment to support the congregation for the coming budget year. Our budget supports most of the programs, facilities, outreach ministries and staff members of the congregation. We have had positive results so far, and 1/3 of the expected pledge cards have been turned in. Off the top of my head, [Putting the mail box back on its stand], I’d say this means we expect the remaining 2/3 to be submitted by the end of February. That gives us nearly 12 hours to wrap up. I’m not ready to panic, but the stewardship season does increase my anxiety level every year. {PS to web readers. If you are a member or friend, you can find and print out a pledge card at http://uuss.org/Forms/Pledge%20Card%202010-2011.pdf. Thank you!}
Reading
This reading is a poem entitled “Joe Heller,” written in 2005 by the late Kurt Vonnegut about his fellow writer and friend and published in the New Yorker magazine [5/16/05].
Joe Heller
True story, Word of Honor:
Joseph Heller, and important and funny writer
now dead,
and I were at a party given by a billionaire
on Shelter Island.
I said, “Joe, how does it make you feel
to know that our host only yestereday
may have made more money than your novel ‘Catch-22’
has earned in its entire history?”
And Joe said, “I’ve got something he can never have.”
And I said, “What on earth could that be, Joe?”
And Joe said, “The knowledge that I’ve got enough.”
Not bad! Rest in peace!
Sermon
Ongoing political controversies about homosexuality and abortion rights could give you the impression that the Holy Bible is bursting with guidance about same-sex relationships and family planning, but it’s not. Contrary to the advocacy of religious conservatives, the Holy Bible says less about sexual morality than it does about financial morality.
Here are some examples: Hebrew prophets in several books condemn the oppression of the poor by the powerful, and the Jewish Bible prohibits lending money at high rates of interest, the way credit card companies and payday lenders do today. It speaks of the jubilee year—a celebration every 50 years in which land was to lie fallow, all property was returned to to its original owners or their heirs, all debts were forgiven and indentured servants released. Contrast this with debtor prisons which existed in Europe and the U.S. until the mid-19th century. In the New Testament, in one scene, Jesus of Nazareth praises the poor widow for her generous offering to the temple while scolding the rich donors for their pride and their lack of equal sacrifice.
According to the Reverend Stephen Gray: Of the 38 parables or stories told by Jesus in the New Testament, 16 deal with the relationship between what you say you believe and how you use your money and possessions; of everything that Jesus talks about, the number two topic is the use we make of our possessions. (He didn’t say what the number one topic is.)
Gray is a United Church of Christ minister who speaks about money. He gave a workshop at the annual meeting of the UU Ministers Association several years ago. By his calculation, in both testaments of the Holy Bible one out of eight verses talks about the relationship between faith and the use of our money and possessions. Of the Ten Commandments, three provide instructions on how we relate to money and possessions, including the possessions of others, such as not coveting what they have.
The individual books of the Bible were composed in different places and times over a span of thousands of years, written by and for different communities. Yet throughout those varied books are stories, questions, and guidelines about money in personal relationships as well as money and social justice and fairness. These various passages don’t all say the same thing, but they show the centrality of money to human relationships. Stress over money is not a new thing.
Gray writes: “If you wonder why money and possessions are referred to so often in the Bible, I would simply remind you of the number one reason for family conflict? The answer, of course, is money.” Money was a major source of domestic disagreements long ago, and it still is. This is why premarital counseling and couples workshops help engaged couples to talk in advance of their wedding about financial priorities and habits, as well as the messages they received about money while growing up.
To demonstrate how important this is, Gray tells this story about an old married couple up in Maine: Matilda and Bert were visiting the Blue Hill Fair. Soon enough they came across one of those open-cockpit airplane rides with the advertisement: Ride for 2 — $10. Matilda said to Bert: “You know I sure would like to take one of those airplane rides.” To which Bert replied, “I don’t think so. Ten dollars is ten dollars!” But Matilda said, “But Bert, I’m 72 years old. I might never get a chance to fly in one of those planes.” To which Bert replied, “I don’t think so. Ten dollars is ten dollars!”
At that point the pilot, who was listening in on their conversation, said, “Tell you what, folks. I’ll take the two of you up for an airplane ride for nothing as long as you don’t say one word during the flight. But if you say so much as just one word, you owe me $10.” Well, that sounded like a bargain they couldn’t pass up, so Matilda and Bert climbed into the little open-cockpit plane.
Well, that pilot did everything he could to get them to cry out. He did loop de loops, he did spins, he took the plane into steep dives. But Bert and Matilda didn’t say one single word.
Defeated, the pilot finally brought the plane in for a landing and turned around to Matilda and said, “Well, I guess you got that plane ride for free. I did everything I could to get you to say something, but I didn’t hear one word.” To which Matilda replied, “Well, I was going to say something when Bert fell out of the plane… But then again, ten dollars is ten dollars!” [i][At the first service this story was told to the children before they departed for Religious Education.]
Nothing like that happened in my family, but I did grow up with mixed messages about money. Instead of learning clear lessons about financial security, frugality or generosity, I learned to be anxious and ambivalent about money. My relationship to money was shaped in part by the habits, attitudes, complaints and worries I heard from parents and close relatives. We were secure financially as a family, but it didn’t feel that way. In contrast, I’ve heard other people say, “I grew up in a poor family, but we didn’t realize we were poor. We had enough to eat, fun ways to spend time, and lots of love.”
Every Sunday the Sacramento Bee newspaper runs a few articles from the Wall Street Journal, one of which is entitled Yoder & Sons. For several years the Journal‘s San Francisco Bureau Chief, Stephen Yoder, has written a column with his teenage son Isaac, who’s now in his first year of college. Last year the team added the younger son, Levi, who is 14 and a high school freshman. Every week there’s a new topic related to family life and money. The father and one or both of his kids write their thoughts on topics like kids’ allowances, savings, spending, cell phones, summer vacations, summer internships, selecting a college and paying for it, volunteer work, giving to charity, and balancing work and family life. They don’t always see eye-to-eye. The parents struggle with how much free choice to leave to the ikds and when to assert parental control. But they stay in conversation, and all of them learn from one another.
In January, 14-year-old Eli made a New Year’s resolution to give away 10% of the money he makes from writing the column for the newspaper. He would divide it between the family’s church and another not-for-profit organization. A month later he was still putting it off. He said his church youth group is collecting money to support a clinic in Indonesia “that provides health care in local villages in return for the villagers’ pledging not to cut down trees there, and to restore part of the rainforest by planting seedlings.” Eli writes: “For the fund-raiser, we’re going to ask the adults to pitch in, and I figure I should lead by example.” He notes, however, that the fundraiser will be a temporary event. He wants to start making donations regularly, and he’s still trying to figure out which not-for-profit agency will benefit from his tithe. He commits to visiting the bank on the upcoming Saturday and withdrawing 10% of his earnings to give away.
Like many people with the last name of Yoder, this is a family of the Mennonite church. Related historically to the Amish, Brethren, and Quaker traditions, the Mennonites are a self-proclaimed peace church. They stand against war and capital punishment, and are involved in ministries of health care, economic development and emergency relief in poor countries. Steve Yoder, the father, writes that he learned the practice of tithing from his own parents: 10% of his allowance and earnings went into the church offering plate.
Yet he adds: “Talking to to my sons about their money decisions sometimes means admitting my own failures…. I must confess one here: We should be giving more money away.” He explains that he and his wife, Karen, do give away both time as well as money, but they have fallen behind their own standard of tithing, and it’s become less of a priority.
Recalling the Jewish Biblical tradition of giving away the first fruits of one’s harvest, Steve writes that if any of us waits until we think of all the other things we want or need to do with our money, we will find reasons to give away less than we can—or give almost nothing. He recounts a story of a Mennonite cattle-farming family. Every year, the family would designate the first calf born as the one for the Mennonite Central Committee a service agency that is the Mennonite church’s “rough equivalent of the Peace Corps.” The so-called MCC Calf would “be fatted and nurtured just like the rest of the herd. At year’s end, no matter how thin the family finances were, the full-grown cow would be sold, and the proceeds sent to the (service agency).” Steve Yoder says: “Giving first–before spending on yourself–has got to be a lifestyle choice, like investing in the 401(K) before buying a new car.” Now he and his wife are talking about downsizing their home and becoming more frugal in order to “leave more money upfront to give away, while still allowing us to do the things we value, such as travel.” Inspired by his son’s thoughtfulness and good intentions, Yoder says “Levi is on the right track. Now if Karen and I can just get ourselves on that track too.”[ii]
Even in a family like this, with strong traditions and common commitments, managing money is a challenge, a topic for ongoing dialogue, and a reason for mutual support and encouragement. I can’t imagine it’s any easier for other families than it is for the Yoders. Stress about money and possessions is a real part of real life. It’s important to acknowledge our personal reactions about money, or about any other topic brings up strong feelings. It can help to be clear about what gives us joy and what our hopes are, as well as about our dilemmas, doubts and fears. It’s especially useful to talk about anxiety about money. This is important whether we are a family of one person, two, three, seven or more. Anxiety is a sign that something deep is going on in us.
Anxiety is a challenge to look deeply—it’s not a feeling to run from, avoid or conquer, as much as we’d like to get rid of it. It’s a feeling to look in the face. If we know our own values well and keep to them, if we stick to our personal priorities, we can let anxiety be what it is, without letting it drive our decisions and run our lives. We can respect our anxiety without letting it chase us around.
I know adults who learned to tithe as children, but I didn’t. My parents were somewhat generous to the church and larger community, but there was a sense of duty about it, even a sense of caution: Make sure you don’t give away too much! What I missed then was a sense of joy in giving. We didn’t experience the joy that comes from living with an attitude of abundance and gratitude.
When I think of the spirit of abundance and gratitude, I see the image of gardeners passing some of their vegetables over the fence to neighbors, or bringing extra produce to church to give away. I remember a house I saw last year in a Sacramento neighborhood where I was apartment-hunting. It had a sign in the front yard: “Help yourself to fruit from the tree.” I said, “I want to live near them!” Alas, the apartment I found was 12 blocks away. But a few weeks after I moved into my new place, a neighbor from a family in the next building knocked on my door to introduce herself. I’d already met her spouse when he brought me a piece of mail that had ended up in their box. As a housewarming gesture, she brought me two cupcakes, freshly baked and frosted. I was delighted–and I obliged by eating them at once. Who knows if the joy was greater for her or for me? But it seems clear that joy increases in all directions by the act of giving and receiving–giving away without expectation, and receiving graciously.
It can be challenging to feel a sense of abundance or gratitude when we are beset by misfortune, loss, illness or money problems. Yet often we meet or hear about people who get by on little money but show gratitude for life and for what they have, and who give to others with joy. We see on television or read in the paper about a sick child or an adult with a life-threatening illness, and we’re amazed that they show gratitude for special moments in life. Perhaps abundance– rather than a measurable quantity of money– is an attitude that we can try out.
Perhaps gratitude is a practice, a way of looking, a point of view, a lens. Through the lens of gratitude we can see our lives anew, and remember our connections to the world around us, to all of life, to all the gifts of life.
The abundance of life flows around us and through us. We don’t own it; we are merely its keepers. We’re the stewards of the gifts of this world. The word steward comes from an Old English word that means the “keeper of the hall.” We are the keepers, the temporary keepers.
Stewardship is about giving thanks for our gifts, tending them, sharing them, and —eventually—letting go of them. Stewardship is about gratitude and relationship.
When money flows through our hands, it represents the abundance of life. It represents the gifts of hard work and wise choices and good luck. It represents the gifts of all the other lives that are connected to our lives, all the other beings that make your life possible. Money reflects our inter-connection and inter-dependence. It’s not the only thing that reflects inter-dependence, but it does reflect it.
Money is a gift that passes through us. The very first gift that passes through us—through each one of you you and through me–is life itslelf. Our existence is a gift. We are temporary keepers of our lives and all other gifts. As much as possible, let us be joyful receivers and grateful givers of our gifts, and of ourselves. May gratitude and joy bless our lives, and bless our world. Amen.
[i] Money, Ministry and Stewardship: Doing Better at All Three,” copyrighted address by Stephen C. Gray, June 1999, UU Ministers Association continuing education day and annual meeting, Salt Lake City
[ii] “The Joy of Giving, and the Pain of Falling Short,” by Steven Kreider Yoder, Isaac S. Yoder & Levi Yoder, Sacramento Bee, 2/7/2010, p. D6. See several of his columns at http://topics.wsj.com/person/y/stephen-kreider-yoder/4321
http://topics.wsj.com/person/y/stephen-kreider-yoder/4321
Filed under: Eating Mindfully and Sustainable Agriculture, Travels, Uncategorized | Tags: Hawii, Maui, snorkel, vacation, whales
We stayed at a small hotel on Kihei Road, just across from a calm beach on West Maui.
The entire first day we drove the scenic highway to Hana, along the north coast, with dramatic views and changing vegetation, and a couple of hikes through bamboo and over rocks to see waterfalls. We bought freshly-made pineapple, papaya, banana and cane-juice smoothies from a weathered German woman in a snack truck at a farm near one waterfall. What happens to the cane stalks after she presses out the juice? “Composting. For the Goddess.” Most spectacular views were down at the water’s edge on a peninsula, watching waves crashing on rocks and beach.
The second morning we took a snorkeling trip to Molokini coral reef (next to the crescent-shaped remains of a crater) and Turtle Arches, on tour boat operated by Pacific Whale Foundation.
The naturalist guides/crew members/food servers/bartenders were young, enthusiastic, and very on the ball–and busy!. On the first dive I felt chilled in 70-degree water, even with the recommended wet suit top, and fretted that I’d give up early, even though the corals and colorful fish were fascinating and very cuddly in the way they swam close to me. But time was going faster than I thought, and the hour was over. Just as striking as the schools of fish was the sight of hundreds of humans (from numerous ships) bobbing close together, faces down, snorkels up. On the ride to the next stop, a naturalist showed pictures of some of the sea life we’d seen, noting which fish had been characters in “Finding Nemo.”
The second of our two dives included an in-water tour by another naturalist, who would dive down and point out sea turtles, a small eel, and an octopus. He brought up the brown octopus and held it near the surface so we could touch it. Very cute–until it latches itself on your head and sucks your brain out! One turtle swam and surfaced right in front of me before diving back to sit on the floor for an hour or so. The most striking thing was to dive down a bit and listen to the singing of the male humpback whales. I hadn’t imagined that you could hear it without special Jacques Cousteau equipment.
The ride back to shore featured hot dogs, grilled chicken sandwiches, pasta salad, and a very open bar. But the best part of the ride was whale soup–not on deck but in the water. We saw many pods and individual whales–a few straight-up breaches, lots of flukes (tails) shown as they surfaced for air, and a long display of two whales rolling on their backs flapping dorsal fins (arms, I guess) in and out of the water. A whale watch at no extra charge.
After a nap (was it the snorkeling, the drammamine, or the beer that tired me?), we drove up-island to Haleakala National Park. Fortunately a naturalist recommended that we try to see sunset, rather than sunrise, which meant leaving at 3 PM instead of 3 AM to drive all 10,000 feet to the top. My thanks to Aman for doing all the driving (Hertz charges an extra $65 for a second driver), especially the steep, winding road, which took us through clouds and various climates and landscapes.
At the summit, we hiked down into the crater a bit and back out–layers of dark red, brown, gray and green rocks made it seem like an unearthly landscape. Back at the rocky top (whose clear air and high-up observatory equipment yield the 4th best astronomical views in the world, but the observatories weren’t open), we watched a long sunset over the ocean. By then it was cold! We had a late pizza and salad dinner at Flatbread in the mini downtown of Paia. We sat close to the brick oven fire and I enjoyed the true ethos of the Hawaiian islands–I had no idea that all their other organic and funky sites are in Mass, NH, VT and Maine!
Lots of Mahi Mahi meals on this trip too. Somehow we avoided the island favorite, Spam, but I pointed it out on the breakfast menu at a diner. Aman is a computer programmer and the only kind of spam he’d heard of is that with a small s, not the Hormel brand of canned slabs of spiced, chopped ham.
On our last afternooon we visited the only town on the island with a true (and touristy) downtown, Lehaina. It had several historic buildings and museums; we visited a whaling exhibit housed in the old court house and saw the banyan tree that takes up the full block of a downtown park–it looks as if it has several trunks but it’s all one tree (planted 1873). We visited the charming little public library. Lots of locals online and reading books, with one teenager reading a surfing book–in his trunks with a beach town on his shoulder. Perusing the periodicals I read that big eye tuna is at risk of extinction due to overfishing–sushi lovers know it as ahi tuna! A map on the wall showed that in the 2000 census there were about 250,000 Hawaiians on the Islands and another 150,000 or more spread out in all the other states. I read elsewhere that 1 in 1,000 people speak native Hawaiian, but given the cultural renaissance of the last 30 years it’s expected that the proportion will have risen by the 2010 census.
Aloha!
Just flew back from Hawaii, and boy are my arms tired! Actually, it was the rest of me, but I think I’ve caught up on sleep now. Users of frequent flier credits can’t be choosy, so we flew back overnight Tuesday. I hadn’t realized that those airport employees who sell coffee at 6 AM actually have to get there at 4!
One night in Waikiki, on the Marina. Lovely views, including Friday night fireworks. Beach walk was crowded with high-rise hotels and US, Japanese and other tourists. But the purpose of going to Oahu was to visit the Pearl Harbor sites, especially the USS Arizona memorial shrine, which was built over the sunken ship itself. A small boat takes groups out to the site where the ships were moored. (We arrived at 7:45 and got tickets for the 10 AM tour! This gave plenty of time for visiting memorial displays as well as torpedos and other weapons to admire from different eras. The Arizona is a tomb for many of the sailors who died in it. In the crowds I saw and overheard only one elderly man who I think was in the war if not also serving at or near Pearl Harbor. I thought of my parents, who knew after 12/7/41 that war was going to happen. I thought of my Uncle Roger, a 20-ish Navy cook on a ship in the Pacific; I remember tales of large-scale holiday meals but not where he served. In his late 20s Dad was a doctor at a field hospital in Europe; he had some medals and a shrapnel scar on his front shoulder.
I also thought of my older brother, who gave me the idea to visit this site. He was born at the start of the post-war baby boom, and I at the end. We don’t have many interests and opinions in common, so this history is a rare and powerful connection for us as brothers.
Filed under: Children and Youth, Family Ministry, UU Denomination and Pacific Central District News and Views | Tags: children, staff changes, volunteer opportunities
2–Janet Steps Down as Religious Education Assistant
by Roger and Janet
Roger writes: Janet has resigned her position. Say it ain’t so! I don’t know how I would have survived here the past 1 & 1/2 years without her knowledge, wisdom, and flexibility. So many families and RE teachers and committee members appreciate her warmth and organizational gifts. Please join me in thanking her as she makes this transition, since holding her against her will is against the law.
Fortunately, she’s not going anywhere. As a longtime member and church parent, she seeks to return to civilian life as a member of the RE Committee. She recognized that her level of interest and her vision for development of the program are larger than is permitted in the bounds of an administrative job for 12 hours a week. She loves UUSS and wants to serve it as a leader, not a clerical staffer.
Soon we will hire a Religious Education Secretary for the program. We also need to expand the size of the RE Committee, so we can have a coherent and reliable support structure for our volunteer RE teachers and the children and youth in our program. I asked Janet to write her views about the ongoing evolution of our RE program. Here is an excerpt.
Janet writes: In the past, there has always been a personality (Director of RE or Minister of RE) who has been the focal point for the RE program. She was always the ‘go to’ person for RE information and inquiries. However, this situation no longer exists. Roger’s role is not that of a Minister for Religious Education. His energies are much more dispersed. It is not appropriate for the RE Assistant to take that focal role as this position was created as an assistant for a DRE or MRE. That leaves the RE Committee and its chair to take on the role, but this has not been done at UUSS for at least the last 15 years. I believe that eventually there will be no one focus person for the RE program, but that all those previously mentioned will carry a part of the load. This will all, however, need time to sort out.
Filed under: Children and Youth, Church Finances and Stewardship | Tags: awkwardness, generosity, gratitude, growth, spirituality, stewardship, stretch, teenager, trust
Pledge Drive Kickoff Song and Sermon in 3 Parts, Feb. 7, 2010
Hymns: #1010 “We Give Thanks,” #16 “Tis a Gift to Be Simple,” #162 “For the Earth Forever Turning.”
1–Introduction and the Pledge Drive Song — by Roger
This congregation is in the midst of its annual pledge drive. Unless you just walked in the door for the first time, you probably know that! Also known as the stewardship campaign, this is the time when members and friends make pledges of financial support for our programs and staff in the next budget year. Using the results of our pledge drive, the Board of Trustees will propose a church budget, and congregation members will vote on that
budget at our business meeting on May 23. This is an important process. In an independent congregation like this one, it’s up to all of us to raise the funds to pursue our goals, support our values, maintain the buildings and grounds, sustain programs, and pay staff salaries. This is a long process, and it takes a lot of work. We give thanks to all those who are giving time and effort, including our campaign co-chairs, JoAnn and Ginger. Not only are they taking signups today for the Cottage Conversations; they are facilitating those conversations, and they produced the materials for the pledge drive. So we thank them. And of course we give thanks to you for your generosity. And now, we present the pledge drive theme song.
“Giving’s Gotta Hurt (Just a Little Bit)” words & music by Beth Hilton, sung by the Krafty Jones duo
I was cooking up burgers for a party of four.
On my way to the table, one dropped on the floor.
Well no one had seen it and they’d never detect it.
I was ready to serve it when my conscience objected.
And I tasted that dirt just a little bit, and giving’s gotta hurt just a little bit.
Can’t say it’ll get me into heaven, but it keeps me a little farther from hell.
And giving’s gotta hurt just a little bit, if giving’s gonna make me feel swell.
I was shopping for a good friend who was turning 43
I found a beautiful sweater that was perfect—for me.
Well, I searched for another, but I had no success
So I gave him that sweater, that I should possess.
And I still think that mine was a better fit,
And giving’s gotta hurt just a little bit.
Can’t say it’ll get me into heaven, but it keeps me a little farther from hell.
And giving’s gotta hurt just a little bit, if giving’s gonna make me feel swell.
I was walking in the city when a fella came up
He told me he was hungry and he held out a cup
I fished in my pocket for a nickel or a dime
But I pulled out a 20 — it was all I could find.
I was going to take Roger out to dinner.
I guess giving’s gonna make him a little thinner.
Can’t say it’s gonna get me into heaven But it keeps me a little farther from hell.
And giving has gotta hurt just a little bit If giving’s gonna make me feel swell.
[raucous ovation ensued. or were they running for the doors?]
2–“Growing in Trust” by Roger
I’d love to tell you this story I heard about Horace Greeley, the editor of the New York Tribune newspaper in the mid-1800s. In addition to being a newspaperman, he was also a political leader. He would have run for president against Ulysses Grant but he died before the election. Religiously, he was Universalist, a very active church leader.
Once Greeley received a letter from a good Universalist lady somewhere, probably from a church on the East Coast. She said that her church was in bad shape financially. She wrote: “'[We have tried church fairs], strawberry festivals, oyster suppers, box socials, mock weddings, grab-bags, and lawn fetes. Would Mr. Greeley be so good as to suggest some new device to keep the struggling church from disbanding?’ His answer was brief: ‘Try religion.'”
That is what we are doing here, now, in our Stewardship Campaign: We are trying religion. We are putting our trust and our faith in one another–not in any outside source of money, not in gimmicks or devices–simply in one another. We trust one another to give to the best of our financial ability to support our spiritual community.
A pledge is a promise, and promises are at the heart of an ethical and spiritual community. When we make a pledge we make a commitment–not an irrevocable one, not a do this or else commitment, but a free, thoughtful, sincere, realistic and responsible one. The big leap of trust is this one: Each one of us counts on abut 400 other persons to make pledges, and to come through on them, to the best of their ability. We also expect that if something happens and your circumstances change, you will let us know.
When we give our money to a congregation, we also give it our trust. We expect staff, ministers and volunteer leaders to be good stewards of our shared resources in serving and leading the organization. We also trust that leaders will keep us informed, that they will let us know when our help is needed, whether it’s monetary support, our physical presence, attention to important issues, or the work of our hands. For their part, the leaders must have faith that when they ask us for help, we will rise to the occasion. We will show up.
Speaking of showing up, that’s what I did a year and a half ago. I showed up here when I was hired on as the Family Minister. When your board extended the offer and I accepted it, we both trusted that the financial resources would come through. On my part, I was trusting that your stated intentions to work toward a stronger ministry to families with children and youth were serious intentions. I didn’t know, but I trusted. Of course, when any minister or staff member serves a congregation, we give it our trust that the people will come through. I’ve seen much progress in the past year and a half, and now I know your intentions and goals are both real and reachable.
I would like to tell you today that I am prepared to continue serving with you next year. (And singing a duet with Doug at the start of every service.)
This decision is a sign of trust. If I don’t go looking to line up another job in another church, come July there will be one here in the coming budget year. I’m trusting the process. Trusting the pledge drive. Even more important, I’m trusting the people. That’s all of you.
In a time of economic uncertainty and stress, I want to trust that we will not let our anxieties drive our decision making. We won’t let our anxieties keep us from being as generous as we really can be, as generous as– deep in our hearts– we really like to be.
I trust this congregation and its members and friends to rise to the challenges that we encounter. Facing challenges is one of the ways we grow. In congregational involvement, we face challenges together. This is one of the ways we grow.
I grew up going to church with my parents in a moderate, middle-of-the-road, mainline Protestant congregation. It was not repressive enough for me to rebel against it, and not inspiring or challenging enough to keep me. As an adult member of Unitarian Universalist congregations, however, I have been inspired. I also have been challenged, and this has helped me grow.
[I’ve been inspired by our values and heritage, worship services and educational programs, and by our people. I haven’t rebelled against much, I guess. Except when this faith has given me courage to resist the culture of fearful prejudice that persists in our country, rebel against religious ignorance and narrowness, and work to undo selfishness, isolation, and neglect of the common good.]
I joined my first UU congregation at age 25, in Illinois. A year later, I was invited to teach Religious Education to children. Who, me? I didn’t even talk to the children. Besides, I wanted to hear the sermon. But I said I’d try it. After all, Sunday School would be over by June and I could get back to the things I cared about. Little did I know, two decades later I’d be supervising a Religious Education program for 70 children and youth. That early challenge led me to growth I could not have predicted–or even asked for.
As a young congregation member, I was challenged to support it–and the values and institutions I cared about–with contributions of money as well as time. I was challenged to be more generous financially than I had had thought I could, and more generous than I had thought I wanted to be. I started by giving away a modest percentage of my income over the year and then began raising that percentage each year following.
I had felt some resistance—I feared it would cramp my style or hurt my standard of living. But it didn’t, and actually felt good to give more. When I first joined a UU congregation, I hadn’t imagined that I’d be asked to stretch this much. Nor could I have imagined that I would end up asking other people to stretch–asking them to give generously to congrgegations that I would be serving in ministry.
I didn’t know that every year at this time–pledge time– I’d awaken early in the morning, with numbers haunting my dreams, dire scenarios dancing in my head, and rumbling in my guts. So I say “Thank You, Unitarian Universalism for all the ways I grow.”
Thank you for inviting me, encouraging me, even for stretching me.
Another way I have grown has been in the practice of gratitude. Going to church as a child I heard prayers of thanks in services at my middle-of-the-road Protestant congregation. At home I heard a mealtime grace at the holidays or when visiting other homes for Sunday dinner. But I don’t remember a culture of thankfulness in my family. I don’t remember that we had any practice of paying attention to the simple gifts of the day and giving thanks for our blessings. Maybe there was such a practice of expressing gratitude when I was growing up. If there was, it did not sink in.
I did learn it later. I learned it from people like you. I have seen that even with our personal troubles, losses, regrets and struggles, people can affirm life and give thanks for our blessings.
In UU communities I’ve learned to appreciate that the mutual dependence of earth, animals, farmers, workers and other people that brings food to our table is nothing short of a miracle, and we can give thanks for it. I have learned gratitude from people like you. I have felt it shine from the faces of elders and children.
Thank you for all the ways I grow, and all the ways you grow, too. It’s a joy to grow together. Blessed be.
3–“Awkwardness” by Doug
I delivered my first sermon when I was eighteen.
I was a member of the youth group of the Morristown, New Jersey Unitarian Fellowship. During my senior year in high school, the Fellowship invited us to lead a Sunday service.
I was excited by the possibilities. No one else in the group seemed excited. But I persuaded my friend, Steve, to join me. We agreed to each write a ten to fifteen minute sermon.
Our title was “The Quest for Self-Identity.” For the front of the order of service I found a drawing of Prometheus bringing fire to humans.
I worked hard on the sermon. I wanted to tell those adults what it was really like to form a self-identity. And tell them I did, with all the fire of Prometheus.
Then I sat down. And Steve stood up. He began with a long passage from J. D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye about a prostitute. There were a lot of four letter words in it. I thought, “Steve put a lot less effort into his sermon than I did into mine.” And I thought, “His is better than mine. A lot better.” In fact, I realized mine was pretty bad.
There were a hundred or so at the service that morning – the room was full. They didn’t flinch at Steve’s quoting profanity. And they didn’t yawn at my adolescent, rambling hyperbole. They listened respectfully.
After the service, as usual they went out, got their coffee and, as usual, came back for the talkback so in vogue in those years.
During the talkback no one told me my sermon had been wonderful and insightful. I was grateful they didn’t. False praise would have been humiliating. And no one thanked me for my efforts, as if to say, “Nice try, son. Too bad you blew it.”
Instead they asked about points I had tried to make. Some questions were probing. All felt respectful. They helped me clarify and illustrate things I had said awkwardly. They gracefully separated the wheat from the chaff. They found germs of meaning amidst my rambling and gold nuggets amidst the dross of my awkwardness.
I left feeling they saw me in all my clumsiness. And they saw things of value I hadn’t seen on my own.
Awkward
This morning I want to talk about awkwardness. The theme of our stewardship drive this year is “All the ways we grow.” There is an intimate relationship between growth and awkwardness.
Think about adolescent growth spurts. Our feet grow two shoe sizes. It takes longer for our legs to catch up. For several years my brother, Reynold, hid his hands in family photos because they were embarrassingly large for the rest of his body.
Real growth – organic growth – is usually uneven. One aspect gets ahead, another lags behind.
There are probably as many ways to be awkward as there are ways to grow.
Some awkwardness is excruciating, like how I felt after that sermon.
Some is just embarrassing, like throwing ourselves into a Theater One play and forgetting our lines.
Some is poignant: a loved one dies or a relationship falls apart unexpectedly and we don’t know how to handle it. We stumble around trying to get our bearing.
Some is private like learning to meditate and seeing how enthusiastically our mind gallivants around out of control.
However, not all awkwardness is painful: we grow musically by trying to play a piece that is beyond our ability – it doesn’t sound so good until we learn it.
Some is pleasant. A few weeks ago, Lisa told us of joining Roger’s prayer class. She had never written a prayer but in the class she did. She may have felt awkward at first even if she enjoyed it.
In fact, some is fun – as in growing in joy by letting more energy than we are accustomed to flow through us.
But even when growth is joyful discovery of talents we didn’t know we had, it can be unsettling because forces us to change our image of who we are or change comfortable habits.
Most of us would like to grow spiritually, intellectually, in joy, wisdom, generosity or other ways. We don’t resist growth per se. But we might resist clumsiness.
Well, it’s a package deal. We don’t get one without the other.
If we avoid awkwardness, we stunt ourselves – we hold ourselves back.
My point is that I can’t make you grow. You can’t make me grow. We can’t force each other to grow. Growth doesn’t start until we do something different ourselves. Growth starts from reaching out, trying something new, stretching, going beyond our comfort zone, stumbling into territory we aren’t familiar with.
Support
However if we are willing to extend ourselves, there is a lot that we can do to support one another.
One of the things I love about congregations like our is that we offer a variety of settings and venues where people can exercise their talents or try out something new. Most institutions focus on one area, one task, one group of people or one type of setting. But we offer everything from ministry circles to leadership roles, from singing to helping the homeless, from transcendentalism classes to gardening, from book discussions to camping, from worship services to working with children, from giving to receiving, from supporting to being supported, from doing to being.
It’s a place where awkwardness is part of the vitality.
Mirroring
Another way we support one another is reflecting back the worth and dignity we see in each other. This is what the Morristown Fellowship did for me so many years ago. I was feeling so inept I couldn’t see anything valuable in what I had done. So they mirrored back what I couldn’t see in myself.
You do this for me here on Sunday morning. You listen so generously and openly that it draws depths or nuances that I never would have found on my own.
And I see so many of you doing this mirroring here with each other. That’s what I love about this congregation. I see it over and over.
Grateful
I am grateful for the courage of all of you who risk and stretch yourself even when it feels awkward.
And I am grateful for all of you who so gracefully listen and honestly and sincerely reflect back the worth, dignity and goodness you see in each other even when this feels self-conscious.
It helps us relax into awkwardness. It’s a paradox. Reflecting back the depths we see helps us be more graceful in our stumbling, more joyful with our embarrassment, more at ease with our distress, wiser in our foolishness and more relaxed in our awkwardness.
Closing
Does it work?
Yes, it most certainly does. We may not see the growth from hour to hour or day to day because sustainable growth does not happen in a huge flash of insight, like Saul on the Road to Damascus. It comes from accumulating small stretches and small mirroring. To see this we have to look over many months and many years.
To show you what I mean, I’ll close with the writing by another eighteen-year-old adolescent, our own Shannon. She wasn’t trying to write a sermon – just fill out a college application. Here are some excerpts:
… one thing … makes me unique to the majority of all other people. I am a Unitarian Universalist. Born and raised… The older and more mature I have become, the more I have realized what being a UU means to me and how I’ve applied it to my morals and values. It has taught me that every person is entitled to have their own beliefs and that there can be more than one truth. I am definitely a nonconformist, and I don’t understand how some people of other religions are just able to accept something without any questions. There is nothing wrong with this, it is just that I was brought up in a religious community where questioning is part of our spiritual journey.
… I am also a huge advocate for people’s choice. Especially with issues like abortion and when Prop 8 was on the California ballot, I realized how passionate I was to support people and the decisions they want to make that will affect their lives. …
As for same sex marriage, I see no problem whatsoever. … Love is love. Being a Unitarian Universalist, I was raised thinking the “definition of marriage” was just two people who love each other and want to spend the rest of their lives together. It seems so simple to me. …
Unitarian Universalism defines who I am as a person more than anything else could. I am so proud to tell people that I am a UU … even though … I will most likely get … those curious expressions … It’s a special feeling I get when I explain that I have the freedom to make religious choices for myself. I can’t imagine being of another faith. Our principles are how I perceive myself as a person …. It just happened that the seven Unitarian Universalist principles summed up everything I would have wanted to be as a person. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“It takes a village to raise a child.” Thank you for being that village. And thank you for being so deeply and honestly present to each other, even when if feels awkward. Blessed be. Namaste.
Filed under: Church Finances and Stewardship, UU Denomination and Pacific Central District News and Views | Tags: children, generosity, giving, grow, joy, mature, progress, thanking
This is Doug’s letter to the congregation for the Stewardship Campaign.
Dear Members and Friends,
I first joined you ten years ago. Since then I’ve seen our congregation grow in so many ways.
- I see this when I visit Spirit Play, Story Time, our Youth Groups and speak with the many parents and non-parents involved in our religious education. We are developing programs that touch the busy lives of our children and youth.
- I see it in the blossoming of Family Promise, Green Sanctuary, vigils and other social actions over the years.
- I feel it when I go out and sit in our thriving, lush Community Garden.
- I’m moved by it when I meet with the Ministry Circle Facilitators, Spiritually Grounded Leadership group and see all the other Adult Enrichment activities throughout each week.
- I feel it in the Sunday services – the added dimensions Roger brings, the deepening quality of your participation in services and your thoughtful responses to our pulpit efforts.
- I’m inspired by it when I sit in on a meeting with our UU Master Plan Facilitators (UUMPF). Rather than solely pursuing their personal visions, they bring care and sophistication as they solicit, sort and bring to life the ideas and aspirations of the whole congregation.
And this is just a sampling of the ways we’ve grown.
I too have grown through my relationship with you. Listening to you and being listened to by you I’ve learned so much about enriching ways to live practically and spiritually in this world of ours.
So I hope you will participate in our stewardship program this year. Come to a cottage meeting and share with others (and me) the things that are most important to you about how we grow.
And please join me in being as generous as you are able when you pledge financially to the congregation this year.
Thank you for all your time, presence, money and heart. I feel blessed to be sharing ministry with such a wonderful congregation.
Namasté,
Doug
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: election 2010, endorse Phil Serna, endorse Ryan Chin, Sacramento city council, Sacramento county board, Stonewall Democrat
Monday night I went to a Stonewall Democratic Club forum for a city council primary campaign and a county board campaign, followed by some testimonials and a debate. I was struck how many folks were there–120 packed in a small meeting room in a hotel–how many non-LGBT politicians are members of the club, and how interesting it was. I hadn’t expected it to last over 3 hours, but it did.
The city council race includes a newly retired Japanese American police captain who’s been very supportive of and responsive to the LGBT community but who is soft spoken and a bit awkward, with none of that scary cop voice they use when they pull you over. He’s a native of Sacramento and his district, and his mom was interned in WWII. The other candidate is Ryan Chin, a Chinese American man in his 40s with a lot of business experience and even more volunteer experience, with two sons: age 18 months and age 21 years. In response to a question about his endorsement of the man who upset our incumbent mayor in 2008, he said he regrets the decision. I asked him about this gutsy statement in the hall way and was convinced by his reasons and struck by his feistiness. Chin got the more spirited testimonials and over 60% of the vote, including mine. They face an incumbent Republican man in the primary. I was quite torn about my endorsement vote, even though I don’t live in their district!
The county board election does include my neighborhood–much of the city, in fact. The first candidate was Phil Serna, a 40-something son of a late former Sacramento mayor, born in northern Guatemala when his parents were in the Peace Corps; his father was the first Latino mayor, a farm worker and activist. He came across as less smooth than his opponent but very conversant with the issues and clearly hard working. He’s taught geography and urban planning at the local CSUS campus (and in the public affairs center endowed in his father’s name). The other candidate is a 60-something African American man who held this seat in the past and then left to work for the Clinton administration and then as the human services cabinet member for Governor Davis (the one Schwarzenegger replaced in a recall election). He was eloquent and masterful and assertive in his devotion to principle and ability to achieve progressive ends. He had been mentored in politics as a young man by the late father of his opponent. I was nearly won over by him till the testimonials about the younger man’s hard work and involvement in the community; he also has been campaigning since last June, while the older man got into the race more recently. A young man in the Stonewall club emphasized that Serna had attended a Camp Courage training series with him, learning how to be a straight ally of LGBT folks. I had a side conversation with an elderly woman who had served on the county board with the older man; she allayed my concerns about a disagreement the men had over the tax base for affordable housing development and whether the younger man was beholden to housing developers. She also said the older man had left his earlier office because he is a policy wonk who often got frustrated and walked out of county board meetings if things weren’t going his way. The younger man got the endorsement (which requires at least 60% of the vote). His opponent must have expected this, as he was the only one of the four candidates who did not hang around for the results.
At a break I spoke to a woman who used to be our mayor and who was unseated after two terms in 2008. She explained to me that the city and county do not have term limits, unlike many other parts of California, including the state government. I told her we had met in 2008 when she attended a memorial service for a parishioner soon after I arrived here. She said, “I’ve been to that church for several events over the years. It’s a very interesting place…for a church.” Ha! She added that she did most of her worshiping and got most of her religious education attending services, bar mitvahs, first communions, etc., while in office.
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