The Rev. Allison Palm will become our settled minister on August 1. How should we prepare for her ministry? What about our own ministry? Addressing those questions was the topic of my summer service on July 5. You can read my thoughts here or listen to the service at koober.org. Laurie Goodman served as worship associate. — Gary Lerude

Chalice Lighting — Lean In

At those times in life when an alteration in the culture is inevitable, yet undefined, don’t hold back.
Don't turn away. Don't block or inhibit what’s to come out of fear of what might be.
Rather, lean into it.
Bring your best self fully forward, fear and all.
For when we choose to turn away, to break ties with our community out of fear of the unknown, our covenant is dissolved.
Bring your best self into the unfolding future.
Be among those who shape it for the common good.
For when we forge ahead by creating roadblocks with our words and actions, we thwart our promise to “trust in each other’s best intentions… despite our differences.”
When we choose to go forward into the yet-to-be with an open mind and an open heart, with a desire to work together to create a space that upholds the needs and desires of all, our own needs and desires will inevitably be fulfilled.

— Laurie Goodman

Words for Reflection

The first reading is a Buddhist koan:

A Buddhist scholar traveled to Japan to visit a Zen master. While the scholar had long studied Buddhism, he wanted to meet with the master to learn more about Zen. As the master prepared tea to welcome the scholar, the scholar began to talk about his studies and expertise in Buddhism.

When the tea was ready, the master poured the tea into the scholar's cup until it began to overflow and spill onto the floor. The scholar saw what was happening and shouted, “Stop, stop! The cup is full!”

The master stopped pouring and said “You are like this cup. You are so full of your own ideas that your cup is full. I can't put anything in. Before I can teach you, you'll have to empty your cup.”

The second reading is a poem by Shel Silverstein:

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
and before the street begins,
and there the grass grows soft and white,
and there the sun burns crimson bright,
and there the moon-bird rests from his flight
to cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
and the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
we shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow
and watch where the chalk-white arrows go
to the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
and we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
for the children, they mark, and the children, they know,
the place where the sidewalk ends.

Homily

It seems like we have been waiting forever.

We knew our long-settled minister Steve Edington was going to retire, and we quietly waited for his announcement. Then we spent a church year honoring his 24-year ministry, while we awaited the start of the next chapter.

We entered a two-year interim with Olivia Holmes and spent that time looking in the mirror and preparing ourselves for a new minister. And we waited.

The two year interim turned into a three year interim. Our bonus year blessed us with the humility, compassion, and graciousness of Janet Newman — while we waited.

Finally, on May 10th, we called Allison Palm to be our next settled minister. Now we await her arrival.

It seems like we have been waiting forever.

We're anxious to get started, to get everything back to normal. Yet, what is “normal” as we begin a new ministry with Allison? You know, normal, that sense of a comfortable routine and a shared vision of the future. That normal doesn't exist yet. We have not defined that shared vision, that comfortable routine with Allison. So there is no normal.

However, in the vacuum, propelled by this impatience with endless waiting, we may feel the urge to create an expectation and set ourselves up for disappointment or frustration if we don't realize what we are doing.

So before Allison arrives in Nashua to begin her ministry, I’d like to share some thoughts on how we should prepare for this new ministry. Hers, as well as yours.

Growth requires change

This morning’s reading told the story of the scholar visiting the Zen master. Just as the scholar was told, we need to empty our cups. That doesn’t mean to just abandon what we believe or the church traditions that we love. It does mean to expect that change will occur and that we should be open to it, to give the change room, even when it initially feels uncomfortable.

Can you grow without change?

During the search committee’s conversations with ministers, we spoke of our fear — as individuals, as a committee, as a congregation — that a new minister would come in, take over, and make unilateral changes without first getting to know us, without first understanding our traditions, without developing a shared leadership.

We were relieved to hear that this is a universal concern among congregations changing ministers, even to the point of congregations not wanting a new minister to make any changes. As proof of the universality of this fear, just look at the cartoon (used with permission).

From Allison’s discussions with the search committee, I know that she is sensitive to this, and I am confident that we don’t have to worry that she will arrive and begin making sweeping changes. Her first year with us will be a time when we get to know one other, a time for developing respect and love for each other, a time to sculpt a common vision of what we can do together.

Even though she will be taking the time to get to know us, if we wish to realize the potential of her ministry, we need to provide her with a canvass on which to paint. She brings a fresh perspective, life experience, talents, and ideas about the mission of the 21st century Unitarian Universalist church. We want her to share her gifts and to have the freedom to express her vision and shape this beloved community — even though some of the brush strokes she paints will be different than we're used to and may, at times, feel uncomfortable.

If you patronize Starbucks, as I do, you may have seen the sign posted near where you pick up your drink. It says “Our Barista Promise: Love your beverage or let us know. We'll always make it right!”

The church is not Starbucks. The minister does not make the same promise. Rather, I’ve heard that the minister’s role is to “comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.” The minister is called to be a prophetic witness to what our culture and society could be — whether advocating for public education in the 19th century, civil rights in the 20th, or marriage equality in the 21st. That prophetic voice may initially make us uncomfortable until we understand and embrace the need for change.

This same reluctance to change is not limited to the big issues. Most likely, we'll feel it first with the worship service.

The search committee had the privilege to speak with many ministers during our search. We asked each how she or he could minister to the theological spectrum that sits in these pews each week. One of the takeaways from these conversations that we heard pretty uniformly is that it’s unreasonable for any one of us to expect that the entire service, week after week, will be personally inspiring. One week the music may bring us to tears, one week the sermon, perhaps a reading, or something someone says during joys and sorrows. Some weeks the service will resonate far more than others.

One minister told us that to expect more than 75 percent of the service to be personally moving is unrealistic. That should be sufficient. It should be sufficient because the portion that leaves you flat will be deeply meaningful to someone else in this sanctuary. That is good because we all need spiritual nourishment.

Together with Allison, we will be defining a new normal, a new shared ministry and community. To do so requires change, some of which will make you uncomfortable, some of which you won’t like. Yet if you will empty your cup, meaning if you are open to change, if you are willing to experiment and allow time to assess the change, our new normal will come.

Pema Chödrön, the Tibetan Buddhist nun, speaks of the moment when something triggers us. She describes it as a preverbal moment, when you feel it in your gut before any words form in your mind. She calls it “shenpa.” It could be the third red light in a row, when you’re late for an appointment. Or the person with the full grocery cart who swings into line just before you and your half-dozen items.

Do you know what I mean?

It may happen when you sit here on a Sunday morning and experience something different in the service.

Pema Chödrön suggests that we cultivate the self-awareness to sense when that moment occurs and, rather than reacting as we normally would, to pause and breathe. She says to feel the emotion, which will gradually dissipate if our words don’t amplify it into righteous indignation.

If that moment should occur to you here at church, catch yourself. Pause and breathe. Know that the words, the music are touching someone in these pews.

As with everything in life, there is a balance. I am not suggesting that you be totally passive and simply accept whatever changes come. We do want a shared ministry. So if you approach the coming changes with an open heart and allow time to evaluate them, definitely provide your feedback. Use compassionate communication and follow our covenant of right relationships to convey your thoughts with clarity and understanding. Your voice is important.

What is your ministry?

Let’s turn from Allison’s ministry to your ministry.

Our fourth Unitarian Universalist principle calls us to "a free and responsible search for truth and meaning." Just as Allison’s arrival begins a period of congregational exploration, it offers the opportunity for you to deepen your spirituality and discern your personal ministry.

We are all spiritual beings. By that I mean we all face and answer the core spiritual questions: What is the meaning of life? and How do I live a life of meaning?

Our personal theology provides the foundation for our sense of the meaning of life. Developing that perspective is a life-long process of exploration. However, we tend to pause at some point along our journeys. Perhaps you're at the point — common to many UUs who arrive from another religious tradition — of knowing what you don’t believe, without a good idea of what you do believe, of what anchors your faith in life. Or, after searching, you may have labeled your beliefs but haven’t looked behind that label in years.

This is a good time to explore. Even those of us who feel grounded benefit from continually testing our beliefs. “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” That quote from Hamlet has stuck with me since high school, as an admonition to maintain an open and seeking mind. My own theology has changed over the years, usually after I am exposed to another view that prompts me to consider a different perspective. The ministerial search process has been a rich period for me, as the search committee discussed theology with many ministers.

Reflecting on your personal theology is the first of two steps. Discerning your personal ministry is the second. Your personal ministry is how you answer the second spiritual question: How do I live a life of meaning? Using the words of Rebecca Parker, the former president of Starr King School for the Ministry, how do you choose to “bless the world”?

While a personal ministry is centered around service, the ideal is that service becomes a joyous devotion and part of your spiritual practice. It will connect you with the sacred mystery of life, the transcendent beyond your daily routine.

You may have heard the apocryphal story of two stonemasons, asked what they were doing. One replied that he was laying stones to build a wall. The other explained that his effort was creating a beautiful cathedral to glorify God. We all seek that connection to a worthy endeavor that is larger than ourselves. It’s a connection that will provide the passion and perseverance to fuel our personal ministries.

What is your personal ministry?

It may take work to discern. Once you know what it is, pursuing it may well require the courage to step outside of your comfort zone. Finding and following your personal ministry will lead you to a deep engagement with life and a richness of spirit. It will ensure you live a life full of meaning. And your personal blessing to the world will also be a generous gift to our shared ministry as a beloved community and to Unitarian Universalism.

The waiting is almost over

Our long period of waiting is almost over.

Once Allison arrives and we welcome her with joy, let’s not rush too quickly to set expectations for what our “new normal” will be. We have a rare opportunity to venture from our familiar neighborhood and explore the surrounding landscape, to consider new perspectives, to ask what if? Be present to the change, catch those “shenpa” moments, suspend your judgment. In time, we will find comfort in a routine of traditions and rituals, some new and some that we carry with us from the past.

This new ministry that lies before us is yours, as well as what we create as a congregation. You have the opportunity to renew and deepen your personal spirituality and discern your own ministry. Consider how you will bless the world. The world needs it.

I am following my own prescription. I became a UU 30 years ago because this faith was an open and encouraging environment for charting my own spirituality. As I became engaged in the life of two congregations, my personal ministry has largely been devoted to strengthening the institution of the church. This work has been deeply gratifying and consuming, so I have not tended to my spiritual development as much as I would like. The completion of our ministerial search provides space for me to revisit and deepen that spirituality. I want to establish a more intentional and regular spiritual practice and explore the intersection of Unitarian Universalism and Buddhism. I'm excited to embark on this next phase of my own journey and am looking forward to the perspective and insights I will gain from Allison’s ministry.

Even though our waiting is almost over, this coming church year will be one of discovery and growth. It should be a fun year of exploration, of trial and some error, of going where we haven’t been before and seeing what we will discover.

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
and before the street begins,
and there the grass grows soft and white,
and there the sun burns crimson bright,
and there the moon-bird rests from his flight
to cool in the peppermint wind…
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
and watch where the chalk-white arrows go
to the place where the sidewalk ends.

May it be so. May we make it so.

— Gary Lerude

Closing Words

“Perhaps that is where our choice lies – in determining how we will meet the inevitable end of things and how we will greet each new beginning.” — Elana K. Arnold, from her novel Burning

“The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance.” — Alan Watts