Category: Unitarian Universalism

  • The Oath

    The sermon and story below delivered by Rev. Dan Harper to First Unitarian in New Bedford. As usual, the texts below are reading texts. The actual sermon and story as delievered contained ad libs, interjections, and other improvisation. Sermon and story copyright (c) 2005 Daniel Harper.

    Story

    This is a story from the Islamic tradition. You probably already know that in order to be considered a Muslim — that is, someone who follows the religion of Islam — you must do five things. First, you must confess that there is no God but Allah whose prophet is Mohammed; second, you must pray five times a day; third, you must fast during the month of Ramadan; fourth, if you possibly can, you must make the journey to Mecca, the center of Islam; and fifth, you must give money to the poor. Our story today is about giving money to the poor. The Sufi master and dervish, Sheik Nasir el-Din Shah, told this story.

    *****

    Once there was a man who was very troubled in his mind. He faced such great troubles in his life that he could see no way out — oh, his problems were so great that I dare not tell you what they were. If you heard all his problems, you would be desperately sad for a month.

    And yet his troubles kept growing worse. It got so bad, his friends gave up on him, his servants moved out, he had no one to talk to but his cat. In desperation, the man swore that if he ever found a way out of his troubles, he would sell his house, and give all the money he gained from selling his house to the poor people who lived in his city.

    Soon thereafter, his troubles miraculously came to an end! Within two or three days, everything was fine once again. He sighed with relief. Once again, he could enjoy living in his beautiful house — and then he remembered. He had sworn that if he ever got out of his troubles, he would sell his beautiful house, and give all the money to the poor.

    He realized he did not want to sell his house. Why, if he sold his house, and gave away all that money, he would have so little money left, he would have to live in a much smaller house. That would be most unpleasant! But he swore he would sell his house. But there was no reason for him to give away so much money; far better that he keep the money for himself.

    So he told people they could buy his house for one piece of silver. However, his cat must continue to live in the house — everyone knows that cats don’t like to move — and the cat was such a valuable cat, he must sell it for no less than ten thousand pieces of silver.

    A rich merchant bought the house for one piece of silver, and also bought the cat for ten thousand pieces of silver. The man gave all the money he gained from the sale of his house to the poor — which was only one piece of silver. But the money from the sale of the cat — ten thousand pieces of silver — that money, the man kept.

    *****

    Sheik Nasir el-Din Shah did not say what happened to the man afterwards. But Sheik Nasir el-Din Shah did say that many people are just like the man who sold his house for one piece of silver. Many people resolve to do the right thing, but then they change things around in their minds to make it easier, and make it be to their advantage. Nasir el-Din Shah said that until we can stop doing this, we will not learn anything at all.

    This is a hard story to listen to. Even today, we know we should give money away, but instead we go and spend that money at the mall. I know this is something I have a problem with — how about you?

    Source: Tales of the Dervishes, Idries Shah, Dutton, 1967.

    Readings

    from the final chapter of “Walden” by Henry David Thoreau

    from the Koran, 49.11-12

    Sermon

    Earlier, we heard a story about a man who sold his house — and who also sold his cat. I was trying to figure out how many dollars that cat was worth. The man sold the cat for ten thousand pieces of silver, and if each piece of silver weighed one ounce, at recent market prices for silver that cat was worth seventy thousand three hundred and fifty dollars. The house, on the other hand, was worth seven dollars and four cents (rounding up to the nearest dollar) — which also means the man’s promise was worth essentially nothing.

    What are promises worth? What does it mean to make a promise? I’ve been thinking about promises this week, because right after this worship service the voting members of this congregation will decide whether or not to call me as the settled minister here. If this congregation — if you — decide to call me, we will be making promises to each other. So we have to figure out what our promises are worth, and what it means to make promises to each other, and how to live up to our promises.

    We start by recognizing that Unitarian Universalist congregations are based on promises. We do not have a creed or a doctrine — you do not have to believe certain things in order to be a part of this congregation, as is true with many Christian congregations. We do not have a set of laws or religious rules that you have to follow to be a part of this congregation — as is the case with many Jewish congregations. Instead, Unitarian Universalist congregations make promises. The technical term for the promises we make to each other is “covenant.”

    Rebecca Parker, currently the president of one our Unitarian Universalist theological schools, traces our modern idea of covenants goes back more than four hundred and fifty years. She writes:

    That’s where we get our idea of covenant. You may have noticed that we still like to ask questions and debate the answers. And we still join ourselves together by mutual agreement to walk together, to choose our ministers and teachers, and to keep the commandments to love others as we love ourselves.

    A good number of Unitarian Universalist congregations have written covenants explicitly stating the promises the people of the congregation make to one another. The first church covenant written here in New England was written in Salem in 1629, the oldest church founded on the soil of New England, which is still a Unitarian church (and coincidentally, the church where my parents got married). The original covenant of the Salem church said this:

    The Salem church still uses a version of this covenant today, and they say it together each week during their worship service. In this covenant, the congregation makes promises about how they will treat each other: they promise to bind themselves together, and walk together in the “ways of God”; they make promises about searching for truth by figuring out together how God is pleased to reveal Godsself. This may not be a covenant you would like to be a part of, but that’s part of the point — you know exactly what the Salem Unitarian church stands for.

    Not every Unitarian Universalist congregation has such a clear covenant that everyone says together each week during the worship service. As you probably noticed, we have an affirmation and a doxology, but we do not say a covenant together.

    Yet if you read the Annual Report of this congregation, you will see that on page 6, your Board Chair, Evelyn Gifun, writes, “We need to have… a congregational covenant that will express how we will interact with each other so that we can all feel valued and respected.” Thus at least one person in this congregation senses the need for an explicit covenant.

    I have discovered over the years that most Unitarian Universalist congregations do have covenants, either explicit or implicit. You just have to poke around and generally you will uncover one. I went poking around in the church office, and found a card titled “Application for membership,” which says this:

    This may be an application for membership, but to me it sounds like a covenant. This little card tells us what the church stands for, and asks us if we are willing to promise to uphold what the church stands for. Like most covenants, it asks us to stand by the other people in the church, and at the same time it asks us to align ourselves with something higher than ourselves. It tells us that there is no creed or doctrine we have to believe in, and it tells us that there is no higher authority than ourselves. It tells us that we are free to question and debate religion over the course of our lives. Perhaps most importantly, it tells us ours is a religion which grows out of love, flowering in a spirit of cooperation.

    Because it is an application for membership, it perhaps doesn’t quite sound like a covenant. But if I said this —

    If I put it that way, it begins to sound more like a covenant. You may disagree that this represents a covenant. Yet even so, I still believe this congregation already has some kind of a covenant — covenants are a part of who we are as religious liberals, as Unitarian Universalists — and that we need to let the light of day shine on that covenant, whatever it may be, so that it may grow, and blossom, and set fruit.

    Covenants are crucially important: Evelyn Gifun says so in her annual report; and the second reading this morning tells what can happen if we don’t make covenantal promises to value and respect one anotehr. The author of the Koran says to “avoid immoderate suspicion… do not spy on one another, nor backbite one another.” That is what we try to avoid with a covenant — we make promises to one another so we don’t have to always suspect one another, so we don’t have to waste time spying on one another, so we can stop backbiting.

    Fazlur Rahman, a liberal Islamic theologian, says this passage of the Koran grows out of the firm belief that all human beings are essentially equal. And — this passage tells us that we human beings all too often forget value and respect each other — all too often, we treat each other badly, we are suspicious of each other, we engage in backbiting.

    Backbiting destroys the promises we make to each other, just as the man in the story destroyed his promise by selling his cat for far too much money. Did you ever think of the literal meaning of “backbiting”? I love how the Koran puts it: “Would any of you like to eat the flesh of his dead brother? Surely you would loathe it.” Yuck! Cannibalism! You bet I would loathe it! And, boy, does that image help remind me to keep the covenantal promise of radical human equality.

    If you call me as your settled minister, we will be making such promises to one another. Above all, we will promise to value each other and respect each other. Above all, we will promise to devote ourselves to something larger than ourselves, devote ourselves to this and other ideals.

    Furthermore, in this congregation we will promise to strive towards high ethical and moral standards in our personal lives, and in the community — that’s all of us, you and me. We will promise to leave each other free to develop our religious beliefs according to need, conscience, and level of maturity. We will promise to work for the understanding and promotion of a religion of love. We will promise to contribute to and cooperate with the larger Unitarian Universalist movement, but we will assume primary authority over ourselves. We will promise to avoid the limits of any one system of theological belief; and to attend church; and to support this church, and support the ideals for which this church stands.

    If we advance confidently in the direction of this, our dream, we will meet with success as yet undreamed of — we will put old things behind us, to find that our old covenant will be expanded, interpreted in our favor with yet more liberality. There will be the universal in what we do; with our covenant, with our promises to each other, we grow, and touch the eternal oneness of all life, and it yields to our touch, itself changing and growing. If we keep our promises truly, the universe changes for the better.

  • Why Not Us?

    This sermon was preached by Rev. Dan Harper to First Unitarian in New Bedford. As usual, the sermon below is a reading text. The actual sermon as preached contained ad libs, interjections, and other improvisation. Sermon and story copyright (c) 2005 Daniel Harper.

    Story

    If you’re a Unitarian Universalist kid, sometimes it can be hard to explain what a Unitarian Universalist is. Maybe you’re at school, and one of your friends says, “Do you go to a church or a synagogue, or anything?” And you say yes, you go to a church, and they say, “Which one?” and you say you’re a Unitarian Universalist, and they say, “What’s a Unitarian Universalist? What do you believe?”

    What do you say then?

    Adults have this problem, too. This is the way I imagine it for adults: you’re in one of the office buildings in downtown Providence, and you get on the elevator with someon who says, “I heard you say that you’re a Untiarian Unviersalist. What do you Unitarian Universalists believe, anyway?” And the doors close and the elevator starts to go down, and how do you explain Unitarian Universalism in ten seconds?

    Now sometimes I take the easy way out, and I don’t really explain when someone asks me, “What do Unitarian Universalists believe, anyway?” It’s kind of hard to explain what a Unitarian Universalist is, so I might just say, “Well, we can believe anything we want” — which isn’t true, but it’s the easy way out. Or I might say, “You know, Unitarian Universalist — it’s the big stone church just a few blocks up from the whaling muesum” — which doesn’t say what Unitarian Universalism is at all! — but it’s easier than trying to explain our religion.

    Well, you adults are on your own, but I have some ideas for what kids can say.

    If you’re a little kid, and someone asks you what a Unitarian Universalist is, you could say, “I’m a Unitarian Universalist, a church where people have open minds, loving hearts, and hands that are ready to help.” To help you remember, there are even little hand motions that go with it [show]. Now you try it with me: “I’m a Unitarian Universalist, a church where people have open minds, loving hearts, and hands that are ready to help.”

    If you’re a slightly older kid, I have a little saying that can help you remember what it means to be a Unitarian Unviersalist. It goes like this: “It’s a blessing we are born, and it matters what we do. What we know about God is a piece of the truth. We let the beauty we love, be what we do, And we don’t have to do it alone.”

    It’s a blessing we are born — that means each and every person is important — and it matters what we do. What we know about God is a piece of the truth — and one of the things some people know about God is that God doesn’t exist. We let the beauty we love, be what we do — in other words, we try to live a good life. And we don’t have to do it alone.

    Here, try saying it with me: It’s a blessing we are born, and it matters what we do. What we know about God is a piece of the truth. Let the beauty we love, be what we do. And we don’t ahve to do it alone.

    Now if you’re in middle school or high school, I recommend a different approach. When someone asks you, “What do Unitarian Unviersalists believe, anyway?” you can say, “We believe in asking good questions.” — then you turn it around on them, and ask, “And what do you believe?” And then everything they say, you can respond with another question — so if your friends says, for example, “I believe that Jesus is my lord and savior,” you then ask politely, “What do you mean by lord and savior?” It’s a great way to learn what your friends really believe about religion. And it’s a pretty accurate way of showing how we Unitarian Universalists ask each other lots of hard questions. Be warned, though — asking all those questions can be extremely annoying — if you’re not careful, you can really annoy your friends.

    One more time: little kids can say, “I’m a Unitarian Universalist, a church where people have open minds, loving hearts, and hands that are ready to help.” Older kids can say something like this: “It’s a blessing we are born, and it matters what we do. What we know about God is a piece of the truth. We let the beauty we love, be what we do, And we don’t have to do it alone.” And if you’re in middle school or high school, you can try saying: “We believe in asking good questions. And what do you believe?”

    Readings

    According to some people, it was Unitarian Julia Ward Howe who started Mother’s Day. Our first reading this morning is her original 1870 “Mother’s Day Proclamation.” I have to admit, it is not at all what I had expected, but here it is….

    The second reading this morning is very short, and it comes from the Christian scripture attributed to the author named Matthew:

    Sermon

    That original Mother’s Day Proclamation by Julia Ward Howe really surprised me. My idea of Mother’s Day is that it is a day when we honor mothers. The stereotypical Mother’s Day celebration is that the kids get up early, overcook some eggs, burn some toast, and then bring breakfast in bed to their mom.

    And I know Mother’s Day has changed quite a bit just over the past few years. On the front page of Thursday’s Chicago Tribune, there was a story at the bottom of the page with the headline, “Nothing says “Love ya, Mom’ like a little Botox.” Here’s a little excerpt from the article: “Flowers, cards, and candy may not cut it this Mother’s Day — especially with hipper moms. ‘Moms themselves are changing,’ said Schuyler Brown, director of trendspotting for advertising agency Euro RSCG in New York…. ‘[Candy,] who needs it? I don’t put it in my house,’ said Zoe Mascio, a 48-year old mother and Botox fan in chicago. ‘And flowers, they die.’”

    Botox for Mother’s Day — who knew? Now remember, this is from the Chicago Tribune, and Chicago has the reputation of being ten years or so behind the trends of coastal cities like New York and Los Angeles.

    And the article goes on to report that total spending for Mother’s Day is expected to top $11 billion dollars this year. Average Mother’s Day spending has more than doubled this year, and the average person will spend US$104.63 this year. The six most popular categories of gifts for Mother’s Day: special meals, jewelry, flowers, gift certificates, clothing, and consumer electronics. Special meals alone are expected to total $2.2 billion dollars. Burnt toast and overcooked eggs are a little behind the times, I guess.

    But while I may be surprised by the total amount of spending on Mother’s Day this year, this is pretty much the Mother’s Day I expect. We are supposed to take care of mothers on Mother’s Day — pamper them, feed them special meals, buy them jewelry and dozen red roses and maybe some Botox, if that’s what they want.

    Julia Ward Howe had a surprisingly different idea for Mother’s Day. By the time she wrote her Mother’s Day proclamation, she had become involved in the Women’s Suffrage movement, working to gain women the right to vote. She had also become concerned at how vicious the Franco-Prussian War had gotten, and she began to think of ways to promote an international peace movement.

    “Arise, then, women of this day!” says Julia Ward Howe. “As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil at the summons of war, let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of counsel. Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead. Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means whereby the great human family can live in peace…”

    Julia Ward Howe had undergone a real change in her character over her life. Born into a life of ease and comfort, she chose to marry Samuel Gridley Howe, a reformer who helped found the New England Institute of the Blind and other worthy causes. Samuel Gridley Howe wanted a wife who would help him in his reform work. When Julia published poems and articles, her husband was furious — he thought she was wasting her time, time that should be spent on their home and on his projects. But Julia found it difficult to tolerate her husband’s viewpoint, and she almost divorced him — it was only his threat to keep custody of her two youngest children that convinced her to stay in the marriage. She later said remaining in her marriage was one of the greatest sacrifices of her life.

    Throughout her difficult marriage, one of the things that kept her going was her church. She belonged to Theodore Parker’s huge Unitarian church in Boston, until Parker’s death in 1860. It was there that she got involved in the anti-slavery movement. After Theodore Parker died, she switched over to the Chruch of the Disciples, the Unitarian church led by James Freeman Clarke. It was Clarke who suggested to Julia that she write better lyrics to the tune of “John Brown’s Body,” which resulted in her most famous work — “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”

    I can’t help but believe that Julia Ward Howe was influenced by Theodore Parker. Theodore Parker was a Unitarian minister who fought tirelessly against slavery, even to the point of carrying a loaded pistol with him into the pulpit when threatened by violence from pro-slavery forces. Theodore Parker really lived his religious values in his day-to-day life — and he seems to have gotten those in his congregation to do the same.

    I’m not trying to talk anyone out of buying flowers, candy, or Botox for their mother this Mother’s Day. I’m not trying to talk anyone out of spending their full fair share of $104.63 on mom today. Because you know what, the advertisers are right — your mom is worth it.

    But in addition to honoring our mothers, it’s not a bad idea to remember the original purpose of Mother’s Day as Julia Ward Howe imagined it. Julia Ward Howe imagined a day when mothers would use their influence to change the world. Using a Biblical passage that I suspect she would ahve liked, I would say she imagined a day when mothers would step forth as the light of the world, when women would stop hiding their light under a bushel basket and shine their light from a lampstand where the whole world could see it.

    That’s not a bad path for all of us to follow. How often do we forget to live out our faith, because we are too busy spending the average amount of money that every Aemrican spends on consumer goods these days? How often do we neglect to live out our faith in the world, just because we get caught up in the daily tasks that sap our strength and convince us that we are not worthy of doing something grand?

    Theodore Parker was one of the great Unitarian ministers. He was a brilliant preacher by all reports, as well as a brilliant scholar. He was so good, his church had to meet in the Boston Music Hall, in order to accomodate the more than one thousdan people who worshipped each week. But I think there’s another reason his church grew so big. He seems to have inspired people in his congregation to live out their faith in the rest of their lives. Like Julia Ward Howe, Unitarians from Theodore Parker’s church lived out their faith in their daily lives. To these people, Unitarianism wasn’t just an exclusive clubhouse where they went once a week to see their firneds and make themselves feel good, Unitarianism was a life-changing faith — a world-changing faith.

    You may or may not agree with the way Julia Ward Howe lived out her Unitarian faith — you may or may not agree with Julia Ward Howe’s original Mother’s Day Proclamation. But instead of thinking about whether you agree with the specifics of what she has to say, perhaps you might think about it this way. Which do you prefer — Julia Ward Howe’s original idea for Mother’s Day, where mothers are supposed to be empowered to make the world a better place — or do you prefer what Mother’s Day has become, which is a day where Americans will spend a grand total of eleven billion dollars? — with the truly admirable goal of pleasing your own mother, but without really changing the world to make things better for all mothers everywhere.

    We can go to the mall and buy more stuff for our mothers — or we can do that, and try to make a difference in the world. We can see religion as a consumer commodity and our church as a place where we go to get our needs met and where we pay fees for services rendered — or we can take our religious principles out to a world that desparately needs them.

    You know, we can make a difference in the world. Why not? Why not us?

    Julia Ward Howe lived out her Unitarian religion in the world. Why not us? Why not live out our Unitarian Universalist faith in the wider community? Julia Ward Howe could have stayed a pampered socialite — could have bowed to the pressure of her husband and simply been his helpmate — could have stopped when she wrote “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” and rested on her laurels — could have been just a plain mom who let her children take care of her and treat her nicely. But she didn’t. She worked for women’s right to vote, she worked to abolish slavery — as if she didn’t have enough to do, what with raising five children, and holding together a difficult marriage!

    Now Julia Ward Howe was an exceptional woman, and there aren’t many of us who could raise five children and do everything she did. I know I couldn’t! But Julia Ward Howe makes me believe I could do what she did. To use a trendy word, she empowers me to try to live out my faith.

    We could all try that together. We all know this church, First Unitarian of New Bedford, has to grow or die. We are not going to grow if all we do is the religious equivalent of buying $104.63 worth of flowers and candy for our mothers. We have to take the next step, and work alongside our mothers to live our faith, to change the world, so that the beauty we love becomes what we do.

    So — why not us? We could do this. Think about it.

    And in the mean time, if you’re planning on celebrating Mother’s Day, with flowers or candy or special meals or even Botox — may this be a wonderful day for you.

  • Halfway There

    This sermon was preached by Dan Harper at the Unitarian Universalist Society of Geneva, Illinois, on Saturday, March 21, and Sunday, March 22. As usual, the sermon below is a reading text. The actual sermon as preached contained ad libs, interjections, and other improvisation. Sermon copyright (c) 2005 Daniel Harper.

    IMPORTANT NOTE: This sermon was preached many years ago, when I was an interim associate minister. The congregation who heard this sermon is now a completely different congregation. I post this here, because it’s an example of one kind of sermon that interim ministers used to preach.


    How many of you remember that old comedy routine about Noah? Noah is just hanging out in his rec room, taking it easy when he hears this strange voice. “I want you to build an ark,” says the voice.

    In a voice tinged with sarcasm, disbelief, and a certain amount of confusion and maybe wonder, Noah responds, “Right! What’s an ark?”

    Even though I can’t tell it like Bill Cosby, this comedy routine is still funny because it tells about an experience we’ve all had: you’re just living out your life, going along with your regular routine, when suddenly, out of nowhere, something tells you to stop what you’re doing and start doing something else: –build an ark. But you don’t know what an ark is! Doesn’t matter, you’re supposed to do it anyway; and when you get done building the ark, fill it full of animals. How on earth are you supposed to fill it full of animals? This is impossible!

    Before you know it, you find yourself with an ark full of animals. It was bad enough that you were supposed to build the ark when you didn’t even know what a cubit was, but now you’ve done it, and you find there are complications you hadn’t even dreamed of. At some point, says Bill Cosby, you’re ready to burn down the whole ark and head off to Florida for a vacation. You’re just about to go, when it starts to rain….

    Just a little sprinkle, but it’s definitely raining. And it’s not stopping. This is going to be one of those rain storms that goes on for forty days and forty nights. All of a sudden, building that ark seems like a pretty good idea….

    A couple of years ago, this congregation was like Noah. This congregation was spinning merrily along, when you started hearing whispers that maybe it was time to start doing things a little differently. There were no voices claiming to be God. But you started noticing that your senior minister was looking a little frazzled — that was one whisper. A group of people started saying they wanted to change the way religious education was done — that was another whisper. Your district executive pointed out some systems dynamics (whatever that means) you might want to address — that was another whisper. Then all of a sudden, your long-time Director of Religious Education leaves, and you find yourself afloat on flood waters in a rickety old ark.

    As Bill Cosby tells it, Noah had to manage the ark all by himself. But in this modern day and age, we have consultants. That, my friends, is what an interim minister really is. We interim ministers are consultants who come on board and help you figure out how to sail your ark towards dry ground.

    To you, it may have seemed you were afloat in a vast uncharted ocean. But as your ark consultant, I brought along maps and charts. I didn’t tell you where to sail, but the charts made it obvious. First, you’d want to head in the direction of “Coming to Terms with Your History,” which turned out to be filled with turbulence, eddies, and squalls. Remember that?

    Second, you’d want to sail through the sea of “Discovering a New Identity.” You did that, and that’s where we are right now — a relatively calm patch of water where everyone on the ark has a chance to reflect on who and what this congregation is.

    And here we are, about halfway from where the flood waters started to rise, and about halfway to the final landing place on dry ground once again. Halfway there. Halfway done with the voyage.

    It has not been an easy voyage — it has been challenging, inspiring, often fun — but not easy. Back last fall when you were coming to terms with your history, we had a number of small conflicts. That was not easy! — not in a congregation which has traditionally avoided conflict rather than dealing with it head on. We found out that people had very different understandings of the recent history of this congregation. No, coming to terms with your history was not always easy.

    Nor was it easy to try to discover a new identity. We human beings do not like change. Why can’t we keep the old identity of this congregation? people wanted to know. Because everything has changed around us. It’s no use pretending that everything is still the same, when you suddenly find yourself in an ark floating on flood waters, and the giraffes need to be fed (where did giraffes come from?!). That kind of thing makes it quite clear that this congregation is discovering a new identity.

    You had two main choices for a new identity. You could have decided to shrink back down to about a hundred and fifty members, accepted the financial implications, maybe sold off Pioneer House again in order to make it possible, probably had to find a new minister because Lindsay would have gone crazy if she had to go back to a small church. Instead, it looks to me as if you have decided to finish growing into a middle-sized church, a program-sized church.

    You’re halfway there already. So far the advantages are obvious. You get to have another minister. Raising money is easier. Worship services are more dynamic. And it’s easier to find new lay leaders to help run the church. Admittedly, you’re only halfway there, and we keep finding lots of little habits that have to change, because in a program-sized church you have to do everything differently.

    For example: — the clipboards.

    I remember the first worship service I attended here, almost a year ago, when I was out visiting you for the first time. I heard lots of announcements at the beginning of the worship service, and it seemed to me that every announcement ended with the mysterious statement, “Sign up at the clipboard!” What clipboard? I didn’t see any clipboards! I wondered: What in heaven’s name were people talking about?

    A year later, I still haven’t figured out the clipboard thing. When I ask old-timers, they say, “Oh, it’s easy, the clipboards are either on that little wall next to the pulpit, or sometimes they used to get passed around in the congregation during the sermon, or maybe they’re in clipboard central.” I still haven’t figured out where “Clipboard Central” is.

    The funny thing is, I also hear people complaining. “No one signs up on the clipboards,” they say. I believe there’s a connection here. If you don’t know where clipboards are, and if you come to church in order to worship, chances are pretty good you won’t sign up for anything on a clipboard.

    The clipboards are just one small example of how everything is changing. The clipboards worked pretty well when this was a small church. Now that you are a program-sized church, you will find better ways of doing things. And this is why I say you’re only halfway there. You have enough people to be a program-sized church, but this congregation still small church habits. It is not easy to change these habits — but you’re about halfway there.

    You’re going to face some more big changes next year. I expect the next big change will be changes in leadership. Here again, it’s worth learning from the complaints we hear. I hear lots of old-timers, people who have been in this congregation for many years, complaining that they feel tired, or burned out. I also hear new members complaining that it is hard to get involved. When you were a small church, everyone knew everyone else, and when you needed new leaders you just picked someone you knew to take over for you. Now that you’re a mid-sized church, you will develop an open, well-publicized process for finding new lay leaders.

    I expect that in the coming six or seven months, you will see many new lay leaders taking on new roles within this congregation. I expect there will be conflicts as the old leaders gets cranky when the new leaders don’t do things exactly the same way we’ve always done things here. And I expect that you will find yourselves forced to do church business in new and uncomfortable ways pretty much across the board. I expect you will witness power struggles, and I also expect there will be hurt feelings now and then.

    Fortunately, you will have a new interim minister to help you through this process. She will help you manage this change. She will help the new members find their voice. She will help the old-timers come to terms with all the changes. Much of her work will be pastoral, helping heal any hurts that arise. Some of her work will be prophetic, when she reminds this congregation that you are covenanted together in love.

    As new leaders step into place, I expect you will face another big change, but this will be a fun change. At the moment, this congregation is largely isolated from the wider Unitarian Universalist movement. In large part, this congregation does not take part in fun and fellowship of district trainings, and regional workshops, and denominational meetings. Beginning no later than next fall, I expect this congregation will rediscover the wider world of Unitarian Universalism, and I expect you will find this to be great fun. It’s fun getting to know other Unitarian Universalists! Here again, your interim minister will help you out. But already, some of you are going to district meetings, and making connections with other congregations, and going to Unitarian Universalist summer camps. So renewing your connections with the wider Unitarian Universalist movement should be fun and easy.

    And finally, you will find yourself making commitments to new directions in ministry. By this time next spring, I fully expect you will have voted to call a permanent second minister. You will have to do a good deal of preparation leading up to that vote, and that preparation has already begun. You have selected a search committee, and the search committee has already begun figuring out what kind of a permanent second minister you are going to want. They will develop surveys, and hold meetings, and talk with lots of people, and within a few months you will clarify what kind of second minister you want, and you will begin to look for him or her. By this time next year, you will have found that new associate minister, and you will then be done with your interim tasks.

    Within a year, you will be done with your interim tasks. If you want to continue with the Noah story, the flood will have dried up, the earth will be green and fair, and you will be starting a whole new chapter in your life as a congregation.

    Before I end, I have a few last words for you — a few last preachy things I want to say while I have this pulpit.

    First: you are an amazing group of people, and I hope you will learn to tell others exactly why you are such a good congregation — you’re pretty good at identifying your weaknesses; now it’s time to learn to identify your strengths.

    Second: you have an amazing building — you have been good at identifying the weaknesses of your building; now it’s time to learn to identify its strengths, and to use those strengths.

    Third: don’t forget that you really like children and youth — because you do whether you admit it or not.

    Finally: I believe you leave two words unspoken in your covenant. Each week, this congregation says, “We have associated ourselves together….” But each week, this congregation acts as if the covenant reads, “We have associated ourselves together in love.” If you remember nothing else I’ve said after I leave, remember that you always leave two words unspoken in your covenant.

    You’re halfway there. Have fun next year as you finish up, and get all the way there.