Many people have started asking me what I am planning to do during my sabbatical next fall.  I thought I would take this opportunity to fill you in on how it is evolving—since it is an evolving process.   A sabbatical has the purpose of renewal and revival.  What I bring to the sabbatical are deep questions—questions that are part of my everyday ministry, but that I don’t have a chance to fully explore in the hubbub of congregational life.  During this time of preparation, I am discerning what my deep questions are, and how I might explore them.  Not surprisingly, they relate to the areas that are at the center of my calling as your minister: spiritual growth, leadership and community, and social responsibility.

            During my sabbatical time, I hope to go back into the laboratory of my own spiritual journey, and take time for exploring the mystery of my own spiritual path.  Where is spirit leading me in this moment in my life?  I know for some UU’s “spirituality” is a nebulous concept, but to be a minister to our diverse congregation, it is important for me both to cultivate a knowledge of diverse spiritual practices that fit our values, and also to journey deeply into a path that grows my own soul.  Since my spiritual path is closely related to the earth, I imagine that part of this time will be spent connecting more with this beautiful land of Maine—which is still a relatively new home for me.  I am looking for retreat experiences as well, and the guidance of spiritual teachers.  Time for meditation and stillness.

Another spiritual question relates to the “hubbub” of church leadership.  Ministry is about the best work I can imagine, but the demands of ministry bring one very close to the edge of burnout.  During my sabbatical, I want to explore the question of sustainability and wholeness-- How can this calling of ministry be a sustainable and life-giving path?  I have found an intriguing opportunity in this area of leadership and community.  I will be participating in a two-part Leadership in Ministry training, which uses concepts from family systems theory to explore how to increase one’s effectiveness and durability as a congregational leader.  As it turns out, the first part of the training is a three-day workshop in May, and then I will continue to explore the topic on my own, leading up to the second three-day workshop in October.  It includes work on the emotional processes present in congregations, and how those relate to emotional processes in our families.  So it involves deep personal work, and well as collegial conversations about congregational dynamics.

            In the area of social responsibility—I see so much happening in our world today, great crises really, and it seems that many changes loom on the horizon—with the environment, the economy, and competing religious perspectives.  As a spiritual leader, I need to understand what is going on—so that I can offer guidance to our community as we seek to navigate in these uncharted waters.  And not just what I can glean from the daily newspaper (if newspapers survive at all), but what I might learn from reading many books, and talking to visionary people and great thinkers.  I need to connect with other UU ministers, too, and tap into our collective wisdom.  One opportunity for this will be our UU Minister’s Convocation in November—we gather like this every seven years—in Ottawa Canada.  I am exploring what other possibilities exist, from travel to workshops to thinking about who I might like to talk to.

            As you can see, even the process of preparing for a sabbatical is quite a journey.  I don’t expect there to be a detailed road map before it begins, but perhaps my musings will give you a clue as to which direction I am setting out towards.  Many people tell me it is also important to leave open spaces for rest and fun and family time and surprises.  So I will!

            Poet June Jordan tells the story of a group of South African women who, upon being told by the apartheid government that they must carry passbooks, said to each other—no one else will come to save us—we are the ones we’ve been waiting for.  They decided to throw their passbooks into the fire in protest.

            We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.  That is what we also believe here at Allen Avenue.  If the world is going to change, if the world is going to hold compassion, equality, and freedom, we must do it—we must be the heroes—not alone, but together.  We must be the ones to build a community that transforms lives through the power of love.

            There is an old story about a certain monastery that had fallen on hard times, so its abbot sought advice from a rabbi.  The rabbi said, “I don’t know the answer to your problems, but one among you is the Messiah.”  When the abbot shared that news with the brothers, they all began to wonder, and to treat each other with such reverence and appreciation, that the monastery was transformed and flourished again.

            We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.  Whatever our congregation becomes is up to all of us and each of us.  Sometimes we call this “shared ministry.”  Sometimes we call it “stewardship.”  In March, we once again renew our commitment to A2U2: we are asked to make a pledge of our money and our talents and our time for the next church year.  We are invited to wonder about how we want to contribute to our common life and our common mission, what gift waits in our hearts to take root and bear fruit here.

            This is a joyful process—in the midst of a worried world, we remember that we have something to offer.  We can do it—no matter what we face in the unknown future, we can be a force for good.  There is a synergy here—the church is more than the sum of its parts.  As each of us gives our best selves, our best offerings, we create a shining whole, a beacon of hope and joy.  That is what we ask of ourselves—to give our best, to become our best.  And if each of us gives our best, A2U2 will prosper, and will be a gift to the world.

            We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.