I am writing two days after power was restored to our house, following a three day black out caused by the ice storm.  When the power goes out you start to really notice the light and the dark.  Daylight means being able to do and see things—you can go outside to get wood, wash dishes, or read a book or the newspaper.  When night falls the small flames of candles and the little glow of a battery powered lantern are not really enough even to read by. 

            Friday seemed easy—it was my day off and when the power went out at 9 a.m. the house was warm.  We drove over to LL Bean and purchased a little storm radio.  That night we went out to dinner and saw an inspiring movie about Harvey Milk, the first openly gay man elected to public office.  We cuddled up under a thick comforter for a long winter’s night.  Saturday morning we fired up our wood stove—we are neophytes to its use, so we followed the manual and the temperature gauge that told us when to open or close the damper or how to adjust the air flow so the fire was hot enough but not too hot.  We were able to cook our meals on it, and began to pay attention to the food that was warming up in our refrigerator or thawing in the freezer.  We hauled our coolers out of the basement and filled them with ice from outside.

            Meanwhile, our phone still worked.  I was hearing about the escapades of our loyal building and grounds volunteers because the power at the church had also gone out.  They were trying to pump out the basement which had flooded, and keep things warm enough so the pipes didn’t freeze.  No heat and no power in the building helped us decide to cancel services for Sunday morning.  I must admit I felt relieved because it was a lot of work for Margy and I just to keep up with stuff at home.   

            But there was a simple joy in our time, too.  At night the moon was full and bright, and the shadows of tree limbs crisscrossed over the white ground.  During the day the ice sparkled from every blade of grass and the birds were flocking around our back slider door where Margy had scattered sunflower seeds for them to eat.  There was something very restorative about attending to the basics of food and warmth, and following the rhythms of light and dark.  I bring a much deeper appreciation of the turning from dark to light in the Solstice.

            This month, I was planning to tell you about my upcoming sabbatical time, which will be occurring next autumn from September to December.  A sabbatical is a time of renewal for ministers so that we might bring new energy and inspiration to our service in our congregation.  This coming June 20^th will be the tenth anniversary of my ordination.  I have been working fulltime for those ten years, first in Brewster, Massachusetts for six years, and now here at Allen Avenue since 2005.  The Unitarian Universalist Association recommends that ministers receive one month of sabbatical time for every year that they serve a congregation.  I did not have a chance to take a sabbatical at my last church, so when I first came to A2U2 we agreed that after four years here, I would take a four month sabbatical. 

            During the next several months, you’ll be hearing more details of how the church will function during my absence.  We have already begun discussing it in the Committee on Ministry.  But for now, I just wanted to share with you a little of its purpose.  A sabbatical time is not so different from that time during the power outage—it is an extended interruption of my usual schedule, a time to turn inward to the care and nurture of my own soul.  It is a time to tend to its food and warmth, follow its inner rhythm of light and dark, in order to deepen the well from which I draw to offer sustenance to the spiritual growth of this beloved community. 

            So, more on that later, but in the meantime, I wish all of you a joyful new year! 

            The winter holidays are almost upon us, in the midst of a season filled with profound fiscal anxiety.  The economic news seems to be all bad news: job losses, the failure of corporations, the decline of retirement savings, and questions about bailouts and bankruptcies.  I say to myself, however, that none of this should be a complete surprise to us.  We have been hearing about the concept of sustainability for quite a while, and many environmental activists have warned that our current economic system is not based on a sustainable model. 

            Our economy is based on continued fiscal growth: the expansion of markets, the expansion of productivity, the expansion of investments—more and more expansion—and it is based on promoting greed and consumption.  But the natural environment is cyclical and seeks to maintain a balance.  It is based on giving and receiving in an interconnected web of life.  We humans can’t keep using more and more energy extracted from declining fossil fuels; we can’t keep filling up the atmosphere with greenhouse gases; we can’t keep developing land by cutting down trees—and still expect to continue to have oxygen to breathe, water to drink, and fertile soil to grow our food.  On a limited and interconnected planet, we are coming to the edges of what expansion can do for us.

            It has often been pointed out that the Chinese character for crisis also means opportunity.  I think, realistically, that our only fiscal hope is to reframe our economy toward a sustainable future—to create drastic changes in how we do business.  Others have said, for example, that we could create millions of new jobs by retro-fitting houses for energy efficiency.  Hopefully, there are people with creative ingenuity who are even now imagining new possibilities for a future that works. We need to be open to the possibility that things will change in large and small ways.

            It is difficult to make wise choices in the midst of anxiety.  There is an enormous pressure to turn the winter holidays into an orgy of spending and consumption and debt.  But I believe we would be better served by a surplus of stillness and dreaming—the kind of dreaming that opens our minds and hearts to transformation.  

            Our wonderful A2U2 celebrations of the Winter Solstice remind us of the dying of the old year and the birth of all that is new.  They remind us of the ever-turning cycles of nature.  We need these celebrations right now.  We need to enter that deep darkness where new ideas are born, where possibility and hope rise up like the dancing flames of the burning log from last year’s Yule, or the candles floating in an ice chalice. 

            My wish for us and for our children is that we can make the link between our holiday celebrations and our hopes for a sustainable future.  May we discover the wisdom to thrive in these changing times, and never stop singing, dancing, and caring for each other. 

Peace & Joy!  

Today I was honored to be a part of the unveiling of a new voice in Maine's public life.  There were four simultaneous press conferences at 11 a.m., in Portland, Bangor, Auburn/Lewiston, and Hancock/Ellsworth, to announce the formation of the Religious Coalition for the Freedom to Marry in Maine.  Four of us spoke in Portland: Rev. Deborah Davis-Johnson of Immanuel Baptist Church, Rev. Don Rudalevige, retired United Methodist minister, Rev. Ron Baard, UCC minister and professor at Bangor Theological Seminary, and myself.  This is the statement I presented:

There are times when religious leaders need to step outside of our pulpits and pastoral duties, and speak in a prophetic voice to our wider communities about justice and injustice in our midst.  We believe this is one of those moments. 

We are joining together as religious leaders from many different faith traditions to call upon the state of Maine to affirm the equality and freedom of all of our people by opening the institution of legal marriage to same sex couples.

As religious people, we are called to stand for justice for all people in our common civic life.  After the necessities of food, clothing and shelter, the right to affection and the supportive love of another human being is considered a vital part of human dignity and fulfillment.  Equally important is the right to form family bonds, to share economic resources, and to provide care and support to loved ones in sickness and in health. 

Yesterday, the state of Connecticut began granting marriage licenses to same-sex couples.  Next week will mark the fifth anniversary of when Massachusetts affirmed the civil right to marriage for all its citizens.

We believe this is a moment for us, as religious leaders across the state of Maine, to speak on behalf of fairness and to raise our voices for the human rights and dignity of all people.  Denial of the status of marriage to same-sex couples creates legal, economic, and social hardship and is inherently a form of discrimination.  

Therefore, we are announcing the creation of a Religious Coalition for the Freedom to Marry in Maine.  At this time we include over 120 leaders from fourteen different religious traditions across the state of Maine.  We expect that others will join us as we go forward.

I first began to care about this issue because of two women in my previous congregation.  These women had been loving each other for thirty-three years.  They were kind, generous, pillars of our church.  They wanted to get married so that they could be assured of taking care of each other as they grew old together.  So that, for example, if one of them died, the other would not lose the home they had worked so hard to build together, or be deprived of the retirement income they had saved together.  Everyone in my church was inspired by their commitment and affection.  My faith tradition calls their love holy. 

I recognize that not every religious tradition would bless and honor that love.  Religious freedom is a hallmark of our democracy.  We honor the important and legitimate right of each religious tradition to sanctify marriages according to their own diverse beliefs and practices.  But there is a distinction between the religious blessing of marriage and the legal recognition of marriage.  No religious ceremony is required to validate a legal marriage.  In our common civic life, and in our common legal institutions, a wide definition of inclusion and fairness must prevail.  No one should be denied the freedom to legally marry the person they love. 

Therefore, as religious leaders, we commit ourselves to public action, education, and mutual support in the service of the right and freedom to marry.

Everyone tied to the turnin’ wheel,

Everyone hidin’ from the things they feel

Well the truth’s so hard it just don’t seem real

The shadow across this land…

It’s the bitter end we’ve come down to

The eye of the needle that we gotta get through

But the end could be the start of something new

When the great correction comes

                                                                        (from Eliza Gilkyson’s “The Great Correction”)

Perhaps only Eliza Gilkyson could make a spiritual anthem out of an economic term for a “necessary downturn” in the market.  As the leaves fall from the trees in their great and mesmerizing beauty, the paper wealth of the stock market floats down and down, and becomes as ephemeral as the color on the forest floor.  I must admit, I am no economist, and I never fully understand the ups and downs of Wall Street.  But I know that many, many people are facing new financial hardship.  And our nation is facing some big questions about what direction we will take as we go forward.

What can we do, as individuals and as a church community?  Do our values have anything to say about our economy?  Eliza’s song came out of a monthly gathering in Austin, Texas, in which people would get together to face with honesty the deepening economic, political, cultural, and ecological crises.  “We wanted to provide a place to discuss, grieve, and mull over our future without having a need for an immediate solution other than the comfort of each other’s presence.”  (This info is from on-line Yes! Magazine.)

That is something we can do as a church—we can be a place to discuss, grieve, mull over, and dream.  It can happen is in our Spiritual Enrichment Groups.  It can happen in our Social Action Groups.  Anyone who wants to start a new group can do that, too.  In fact, any place we gather, we can go deeper than small talk.  We need lots of big talk—real talk—about what is most important in our lives, what is going on in our world.  What struggles are we facing in our own families’ finances?  What help might we offer each other?  What kind of economy do we hope to live in?  What kind of world do we want to create for our children? 

There are many things that we cannot control—but we can choose to take action in whatever ways we can.  We can vote on November 4th.  We can campaign for candidates who share our values and hopes.  We can live our lives in ways that reflect our values.  Live as if it were possible.  This month, our town started doing pay-per-bag trash pick-up, and curbside recycling.  No towns would recycle if a few people hadn’t started recycling on their own, and connecting with other people who believed in recycling.  Change starts from the bottom up—from new ideas and old ideas and people talking about it and starting some small action together.

Eliza Gilkyson sings: Poets and sages all throughout history say the light burns brightest in the darkest times.  Let our little lights shine!

            One of the things that our church does well is the caring that people give to each other during times of stress and suffering.  It is not always visible, since it is often covered over by the gentle blanket of privacy and confidentiality.  But I have seen its traces in small and large ways.   

            It happens in our Spiritual Enrichment Groups, where people have a chance to form trusting connections through sharing and listening in small groups.  It happens in our Caring Connection, through rides to doctors and meals during illness, and the intangible comfort of a card or visit or phone call during a time of need.  (And through the much appreciated receptions provided after memorial services!)  It happens through our Pastoral Visitors, lay volunteers who are each matched with an elder, and visit once a month or more often, just to offer and experience a friendly connection.  It happens with our Summer Pastoral Volunteers, who respond to phone calls during the summer.  It happens in my office, when someone takes the risk to talk to me about some struggle they are facing in their life journey.  And it happens informally among friends and colleagues, in meetings, on retreats, over lunch and potlucks, almost anywhere in our A2U2 networks.  It is amazing and wonderful.

            Because of the size of our congregation, more of it happens between members rather than with the minister.  The experts say that once you have more than 150 or so members, it is really impossible for the minister to be the listening pastor to each member most of the time.  A2U2 is too big to be a “pastoral” sized church, which is focused on the minister.  We are a “program” sized church, which is focused on programs that connect people to each other and thrives because of its lay leadership.  Our caring happens because of the dedication of all of you.

            Perhaps the shadow side of this caring congregation is that we create an atmosphere which nurtures people’s hopes for support, but sometimes can disappoint those hopes, if a person doesn’t have the connections that might provide it.  It takes time to build those connections, but struggles come on their own timetable.  And so, we are always challenged to weave new strands of caring, and offer more opportunities for connection.

            This year, I would like to see us create a Pastoral Care Team, to expand our capacity for responding to each other in times of struggle.  A Pastoral Care Team would be a group of church members who have some training or experience in compassionate listening, and are able to offer time to other members who are experiencing stressful transitions, illness, or other challenges.  As I said, much of this already happens informally, but the members of a Pastoral Care Team would reach out to people who might otherwise fall through the cracks, or who need a little bit more time than other groups can offer, or who are too new to have formed strong connections.  A Pastoral Care Team could also explore new possibilities for living out our mission of caring.

            Pastoral care is not psychological analysis or therapy—it doesn’t try to solve problems or save anyone from the struggles of their own life journey.  Pastoral care is about compassionate and respectful listening.  And surprisingly, that can make all the difference in the world.  If you think you might have a gift for listening that you’d like to share, or if you’d like to learn how to be a better listener, send me an email through the a2u2.org website.  We will be conducting a training that we call LAMP 101, through our Leadership and Ministry Program, on November 15th – 16th (It’s Sat & Sun, 1:30-5:30—Sign up will be on the Adult Education bulletin board, or through churchdb.)  And thank you for all that you do for each other!

            I am thinking of some words from an old song by Cris Williamson.

When you open up your life to the living

All things come spilling in on you

And you’re flowing like a river, the Changer and the Changed,

You’ve got to spill some over, spill some over, over all…

            I have called my messages, “Water from the Well,” but this one works better as “Riding the Rapids.”  There are times when water is deep and cool and reflective, and there are times when it is rushing and frothy and foaming.  In September, our community comes back together—those who have been away with those who have been meeting in our summer services.  As we gather again in our larger circle, we are facing new changes and challenges. 

            Most of you know that Robin Lea, our Director of Religious Education, has given her resignation, because of allergy and health concerns in our building.  She is working behind the scenes this month, but won’t be with us in our building and our worship and our children’s programs.  We will miss her!  Our Board is working with the Religious Education Committee for a smooth opening to our Children and Youth Programs for the fall, and has begun the process of planning for the future.  We know that all will be well.  But in the meantime, sadness falls like a rainy day, and our anxieties are bound to increase during this time of transition. 

            Sadness and anxiety are also lingering in our hearts because of the tragedy at the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church in Knoxville July 27^th.  A gunman opened fire during a Sunday service/youth performance and killed two people and wounded others, before being subdued by courageous church members.  He said he targeted the church because of its liberal values, and we also know that he was a deeply troubled person.  But such an act of violence has caused at least a few of us to wonder, could it have happened to us? 

            I have a greeting card that I saved many years ago—it reads:  “What shall I carry today?  Will it be faith or fear?”  Really, I think we must carry both—fear is natural part of living as human beings in a risky and vulnerable world.  But will we also carry faith?  Will fear cause us to close our doors and close our hearts, or will we open up our hearts each day to life, “open up our life to the living.”  Louise Erdrich, in her novel The Painted Drum writes:  “Life will break you.  Nobody can protect you from that… You have to love.  You have to feel.  It is the reason you are here on earth.  You are here to risk your heart.”

            Many years ago one of my sisters closed her doors to me because of my liberal values.  This summer, she asked for my forgiveness, and shared a visit with Margy and me at my parents’ home, with her husband and five children.  I have hope because she and I risked our hearts, and started a process of healing.  I have hope because one evening she trusted me to take care of her baby, whose name is Grace.  I have hope because the Grace I believe in is large enough to hold both me and my sister, even when we couldn’t hold each other.  May that Grace bless this coming season, and help us to keep our hearts open.