June 3, 2020: Musings on Ministry at 25 Years
Hello to all:
I’m sharing with you my contribution to the Ministry Days celebration for 25/50 years of service. On June 4, 2020, I will celebrate twenty-five years of UU ministry. I can’t think of a better place to be now than with GNUUC (even if it’s on screens for now!)
As I return to my usual duties, I shall be working closely with our leadership to plan how best to serve you in the coming weeks/months. To be honest, we can’t know what lies ahead! But we can make plans and change them if need be.
I shall be setting up virtual office hours so that you can make appointments to me via Zoom. I’ll also be continuing to host a Faith & Fiction reading group every Friday. We’re read Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. Just let me know if you’d like to join! You can get it on Kindle today or buy a used copy for a few dollars.
As Garrison Keillor has always said: Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.
The Waking
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
Twenty-five years ago, I was welcomed into this ministry with a Charge from one of the greats, Gordon McKeeman. He was already retired but had briefly filled in at the small Shenandoah Valley congregation I was ordained by. His words to them (and me) were: Stop comparing her to me. I was a speaker; she is your minister now. I was (and still am) very introverted. I was full of doubt that I could do the most basic tasks of ministry: pastoral care; preaching week after week; tending to the dying and their loved ones.
But that self-doubt provided one thing that was essential: humility. I entered this profession with a beginner’s mind. I listened to my elders, to those with experience, and to community leaders. I learned that my passion for racial justice was a fire that would carry me into the public sphere, and like the words of Roethke, I learned by going: to Ecuador, to Geneva, to Transylvania, to Biloxi, to Alabama. And by going to a congregant’s home, helping clean up the blood and bone of her adult son, who’d ended his life, by going to the home of our custodian, who died of carbon monoxide in his own garage. And by going to marches, rallies, vigils and press conferences going deep into friendship with Black families, congregations, and communities. My call was originally an inkling, a hunch. It became manifest to me through listening, learning, and through my own courage and conviction.
I still have doubts and questions, even on the verge of retirement: was it worth all that I and my loved ones lost? Did I do anything at all worthy of the title “Reverend”? And, as is human, I sift back through the detritus of those decades, with remorse for my sins of commission, but mostly of omission. Would I do it again? In the good moments, I feel certain that I took the right path. Other times, not so much.
But these questions rarely nag me today. I hope I still have humility. But I know I have a perspective born of a multitude of learnings that both kept me sane and helped me evolve in this maddening, frustrating, and disillusioning yet grace-filled work: Family systems; 12-step work; spiritual director training; disciplines of yoga and meditation, a sense of humor. Still, if I had to choose one thing that has sustained me, it would be the people: so many loving, brave, generous, noble, and committed people of all ages who have encouraged, companioned, challenged, and tolerated me through all of my fumbling and learning. So many of them live on in just memory now. But it is in their honor that I celebrate my service. I couldn’t have done it without them.
Our South Jersey Shore congregation in 2015. After Charleston SC, we sent flowers to an AME congregation is sympathy. Many of them joined us as we put our sign by the busy road. We were one of the earliest UU Churches to do so. It led to many, many good things!