"We as a people of faith need a bridging ceremony to get us from here to there, from the places of our wandering in the wilderness, from the various journeys we are on, to arrive at a place called home together. I speak about gathering up the fragments of our scattered being where the hollow places dwell and creating out of the dust of them something whole and come alive with the quickening power of the Spirit that imparts the divine image. I speak about the way of the Spirit that engenders life, and how life is transformation. I speak about the way home and the bridge that takes us there over the valley of the shadows where our hyphenated and separated selves seek a way out, a bridge connecting our past to the future. I want to go home but not to that distant place backward as it used to be. I speak about a new creation that is our salvation, a new creation that brings forward the useable past and secures a future, a place called home. I speak from that hollow place that desires to be filled with something more than me, that only can be fulfilled with we and that connected to a larger reality that is not our own. It is a desire for the belonging that is home. The way home is what I hunger and thirst after. The way home, has anyone seen it?" -- Burton D. Carley
I want to start this sermon by going back to the story of Mole and the Baby Bird that we offered the children this morning, and I want us to try to imagine the story from Bird's perspective. Perhaps it might go something like this:
"Everything was dark and soft and warm, and then it all went away and I lay there in the cold and the bright blinding light. I was helpless and alone and thought I would die. But a small mole walked by and saw me, and seeing that no one came for me, took me to his soft warm home and there cared for me. Those who were older than him said it could not be done because I was wild, and I hoped they were wrong, and in part, they were. He took care of me and I grew. My feathers grew strong, my beak grew sharp, and I ached to fly. But mole loved me and did not want me to go and so he kept me for himself. Now those who were older than him said I should be set free because I was wild, and I knew they were right. But Mole built a cage for me and I was back in the dark and soft and warm, but it was not right. I needed to fly. I began to hate Mole. I did not know if I would be able to live this way. But then, one day, Mole went away for a long time with a very old Mole. When he came back, he was different. I could see it in his eyes. He took me outside and opened the cage, and out I flew. I saw that he wept, but my hunger for freedom was stronger than my need to comfort him, and I did what I needed to do, I went and began the life I was supposed to live. Some days, Mole comes and visits me now. At first I wanted nothing to do with him and kept far away. But now I see that he has changed, and I chirp at him, and fly close to his head, and I no longer hate him. We have both come a long way."
Let's look at the relationships that we see in this story, both the original one that I read for the children, and this one that I wrote for you.
In each of these relationships, there is a covenant. It may not exactly be spelled out, but it is there nonetheless. There are sets of expectations and obligations that each character in the story extends to the other. They are in right relationship when the expectations and obligations are mutual and freely entered. They fail to be in right relationship when they are not mutual and one or both people abuse the power they have over another.
Just as the characters in this story, we each have our own covenants, some, like marriages, are more explicit, some, like friendships, are more vague, although no less significant. All are works in progress. And like the characters in the story, there are times when we do well by our relationships, and there are times when we fall short and need to reevaluate.
COVENANTS & RELATIONSHIPS
I've been thinking a lot about this idea of right relationship and covenant as I have come to know you. I've been your minister for four months now, and in these four months, I've sat in committee meetings, board meetings, and spent hours preparing sermons that I hope will respond to your religious and spiritual needs. I've visited you in your homes. I've spent hours on the phone and e-mail corresponding with many of you. Some of you have come to see me for pastoral care. As I become more deeply connected to this congregation, I wonder about our relationships and our covenants, both the ones we have in this church and those in our lives outside it. I wonder about the relationships we build with each other and with the people we know and love outside this congregation. I wonder about the purpose of what we're doing? How are we in right relationship? What are our covenants within this religious community, and how are we in covenant with the communities that surround us? These aren't small questions.
Part of the purpose, the larger purpose of being in a religious community is to have the opportunity to learn, in an explicit and clear way, what it means for each of us to be in right relationship. And the reason this is our larger purpose is because religion and faith are supposed to change your life. If you join a church, or claim a particular religion or faith tradition as yours, and your life doesn't change, something's not happening. Religion isn't just something that makes you feel better. It's not just something to provide the icing on the cake. It is a deep discipline that penetrates into all facets of your life.
This morning I want to share with you some of my personal theology around right relationship. I'm sure you already have some idea of my theology. It undergirds all that I do with you, but I don't know as how I have been that explicit about my understanding of human nature and what right relationship means for me. Now if you're new to Unitarian Universalism or are a guest with us, this may sound strange. How can a church be unsure about the theology of its minister? Well, Unitarian Universalism isn't like a lot of other religions. We have a diversity of theologies, and we expect there to be differences, sometimes profound differences, between the way our members and our ministers understand God, the nature of the universe, and the nature of humanity. Sometimes because there is such diversity we don't talk about our differences. It's easier to look for the commonality, maybe safer, than it is to really grapple with the differences. But they are there, and we are simultaneously proud of them, and also intimidated by them. We often wonder how we hold it all together. But, we do. In fact, we've held it together for four centuries, which is no small accomplishment. So having said that, let me share with you some of my feelings about right relationship and covenant.
I believe that there is in us as human beings the capacity for good and for evil. We are creatures of light and dark, capable of great good and great harm. In Unitarian Universalism, we have tended to focus on that part of us that is good. There are historical reasons for this. Unitarianism and Universalism emerged in the United States during a time when Christianity's message focused on the inherent sinfulness of humanity. We claimed something different. We claimed that God is a God of love, and would never consign any of its creation to eternal hell. God made us creatures of reason, capable of making wise choices without the threat of punishment. Our religious heritage has bestowed us with a profound ministry. We have a powerful message to the many
who still receive the damaging message that we are worthless and sinful. We are not. We are beautiful creatures blessed with and by the spirit.
Where I believe we have been let down by our religion is in our difficulty in affirming and owning our darker side. Part of the religious journey is to come to terms with the fullness of who we are, and that includes also the darker side and our capacity for evil. I think of our seventh principle, "We covenant to affirm the interdependent web of all existence, of which we are apart." This principle has brought us a long way towards balancing our understanding of human nature and how the universe unfolds. It challenges us to not just affirm those parts of existence we like, but also those we fear or might even like to disown.
Now what does this have to do with right relationship? And what does this have to do with the covenants that we build in our lives?
Our desire for right relationship, and our hunger for the covenants that bind us in right relationship to each other are a response to that deep inner knowing that we have the potential for good and evil. Our covenants are the way that we call each other beyond our darkness to affirm and live out the light that rests alongside it. It is our way of engaging the universal struggle between what affirms life and what denies it.
CALLING BEYOND OUR DARKNESS
We have a covenant with each other, me as minister and you as congregation, and part of what that covenant does is engage that universal dance that seeks balance and harmony. This month in particular, we are focusing a lot on that covenant, because two weeks from today, the members of this congregation will formally install me as their settled minister. It's a big deal. Ministers from across the district will be here. So will many distinguished guests. But most importantly, you will be here, for this ceremony is really about me and you and the relationship between minister and congregation. And at that ceremony we will be affirming part of our covenant, the covenant of installation.
Let me talk a bit more about that covenant. Our covenant has three parts. The first part is the actual Letter of Agreement between me and this congregation. The Letter of Agreement sets out my salary and benefits, it establishes that this is an open-ended agreement with no date of expiration. This is what makes me your settled minister rather than a contract or interim minister. We're not hoping or expecting this to be a short relationship, but one that will last for many years. This is the nuts and bolts part of our covenant.
The second part of the covenant is my visa to work in the U.S. As a non-resident alien, I can only work here if I am sponsored by an American employer. You are that employer, and so there is an added level of complexity to our covenant that is not always present between a minister and a congregation. I am dependent on you in a way that many ministers are not dependent on their congregations. You are also responsible for me in a way that many churches are not responsible for their minister. It's an interesting situation to be in. Were I a different kind of minister and you a different kind of congregation, there's lots of room for abuse here. That's not happening, nor, I think, do any of us expect it to. But it is good to name our situation and to name it clearly. Naming it is part of what it means to be right relationship.
Then there is the third part of our covenant, the covenant of installation. While the first two are legal and binding documents, this part of the covenant is where we dream and where we put into words how we envision this relationship at its most ideal, and what each of us will strive to do to reach that ideal. While the first two parts of the covenant are the bricks of our relationship, the installation covenant is mortar that holds it together. It is the blood and the heartbeat, the flesh on the bones, so to say. It's what makes what we do real. It is the love, it is the courage, it is the commitment, it is the promise.
At their fullest, covenants like the one that will form the centerpiece of the installation embody who we are as Unitarian Universalists, as the bearers of our liberal religious tradition. We are a people of the covenant. This is the faith of the covenant. We have no Bible, we have no saviour, we have no doctrine or creed. We have the covenant, the sacred agreements we make between ourselves. The covenant is the bearer of grace in our liberal religious tradition. This is, to use the words of our reading, the way home.
In creedal religions, believers often respond to their ability for harm and their desire to do good by surrounding themselves with doctrine. It is the way they hold themselves accountable. In our noncreedal faith, we respond to our ability to do harm and our desire to do good by developing carefully considered and transparent covenants.
And so I ask you, as a person of faith, as a person in search of meaning and purpose, what is your covenant? Do you feel in right relationship? How does right relationship happen for you? How do you find your way home?
Listen again, to the words of the Rev. Burton Carley:
"We as a people of faith need a bridging ceremony to get us from here to there, from the places of our wandering in the wilderness, from the various journeys we are on, to arrive at a place called home together. I speak about gathering up the fragments of our scattered being where the hollow places dwell and creating out of the dust of them something whole and come alive with the quickening power of the Spirit that imparts the divine image. I speak about the way of the Spirit that engenders life, and how life is transformation. I speak about the way home and the bridge that takes us there over the valley of the shadows where our hyphenated and separated selves seek a way out, a bridge connecting our past to the future."
Our covenants are the bridge that gets us from here to there. Even as our covenants evolve and change, they provide a map to guide our wandering in the wilderness. They give us the tools to gather up the fragments of our being
Let this be a month where we think about these things and ponder them in our hearts. In our thoughts, our words and our deeds, let us live carefully and conscientiously, for we are the bearers of this religious tradition, we are its manifestation, and in our lives we dance in the shadows and in the light.
So be it.
Posted: 1/20/06