“Beginning Again” A sermon from The Unitarian Universalist Church Rockford, Illinois 9/5/04

[existence not structured]

          Existence is not structured. The earth spins ceaselessly. As John Muir Pointed out:

This grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never all dried at once; a shower is forever falling; vapor is ever rising. Eternal sunrise, eternal sunset, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn as the round earth rolls.

          From our limited perspective, of course, the sun rises and the sun sets. We measure the spans of light and the spans of darkness. We perceive patterns: a day begins; a day ends; an equinox passes, a season has gone and a season arrives; and years begin and end.

          What makes January 1^st the beginning of a new year? The answer is, of course, cultural convention. The Chinese, who have been measuring such things longer than our European ancestors, date the new year on the first new moon after the sun’s entrance into Aquarius, which comes between late January and late February. The Babylonians marked their new year at the beginning of spring. The Jews count their first month from spring, but Rosh Hashanah, the New Year observance, falls in the seventh month of their calendar. For most families in our culture, the real new year begins with school’s start in the fall, which shows how arbitrary it all is – this year it started in Harlem a week later than in Rockford.

          It is an ancient Unitarian tradition for churches to close in June and open in September, after Labor Day. Our spiritual forebears were wealthy Bostonians who would not be caught dead in Boston during July or August, and could afford not to be. They all retreated “Down East” to Maine, and most of the ministers followed their flocks to take their leisure in a more civilized climate. “Why have church without a congregation to suffer through it?”

          Even in those denominations whose clergy have always envied this UU tradition, they still speak of a “church year” which begins with schools in September, even if their official ecclesiastical calendar does not, and their vacations do not.

[cycles or progress?]

                     Our measuring of time, of years beginning and ending, gives a structure to our lives. It gives us a means for measurement, for evaluation. If a year begins and ends, we can compare what we have done one year with what we have accomplished during another. There is a reason for thinking in these terms: we believe that we are not doomed to continue “just as we are.” We look at what we’ve done in the belief that we can probably do better.

          There is an ancient Jewish story about a Jewish community that was tucked in the woods, far from the main roads. Its residents were so afraid that the Messiah would come and pass them by, that they decided to build a watchtower on the outskirts of town, and they installed one of the town’s beggars to serve as watchman. One day a stranger approached the tower and called up, “What are you doing on that tower in the midst of the woods?” “I sit up here to watch for the coming of the Messiah,” said the watchman. “How do you like your job? It can’t pay very much,” the stranger observed. “That’s true,” answered the watchman, “But it is steady work.”

          While there are people who view history as a steady fall from grace, others who see it as random, and still others who see it as inexorably cyclical, the guiding myth for us is “progress.” Watching for the Messiah IS steady work, because we tend to believe that things can get better; that they will get better.

          While some believe that change, when it comes, will be supernatural in its origins, most of us believe that change, if it is to happen, will be accomplished by human minds and bodies. Even most of those I know who believe in a God, believe in the George Burns kind of God who says to us, “Hey, I already did my part: now it’s up to you.”

[change]

          Change has always been a dominant part of religion. Very few reputable prophets have come to tell us, “Hey, you’re doin’ great. You have achieved perfection. God wants me to tell you to keep up the great work.” The central theme of the ministry of Jesus was not, “Maintain the status quo.” Paul’s understanding, as expressed in his letter to the Christians in Rome was that it was imperative for believers to change their lives. He told them:

Adapt yourselves no longer to the pattern of the present world, but let your minds be remade and your whole nature transformed. Then you will be able to discern the will of God and to know what is good, acceptable and perfect.

          In calling for change, religion has a problem because what most people least want to do is to change. We cling in fear to the status quo: change is scary. That is why the messages of so many prophets undergo so much reinterpretation – not to make them clearer, but more obscure. While we are attracted to the ideal worlds of which they speak, we don’t like them to bug us about the way we live. It’s fine for them to talk about remaking our minds and transforming our natures, but don’t ask us to give up anything along the way. And thus, the prophets who are most “successful” are those like Robert Schuller in his crystal cathedral who assure people that material success is the mark of good people, or those like Pat Robertson who focus attention on the impurities of other people. The change agents like Martin Luther King make too many waves to be popular while they live. I heard a preacher at Chautauqua say “to most Christians, Jesus is believable, but not followable.”

[new beginnings]

          In spite of our resistance to change, we know that we have not yet accomplished everything that we have to do. Our lives are far from perfect. Our society is far from perfect. Even if we have made progress, we have not attained perfection. And so, a new year, a turning point, a place from which to gain perspective on the past and the future, is valuable. It gives us the opportunity to take stock of our accomplishments, and to move on to set new plans in motion.

          What we seek, from time to time, is a new beginning. When we review where we are, and where our previous beginnings have brought us, we acknowledge that things have not worked out quite as we hoped, and so we dream of wiping the slate clean – keeping the best of what we’ve learned (we don’t want to erase everything) – and then begin, renewed, to address the challenges that we failed to meet successfully the last time around. The possibility of beginning again, of making change, is essential to the feeling of hope.

[can we begin again?]

          Can we begin again? I remember back as a child how I was relieved on occasion that my parents were on hand to give me a new start. I was treasurer for a class project in second grade. When it was over, the $2.31 I had in hand did not match up to the $3.65 my math said was supposed to be there. I was overwhelmed by the enormous discrepancy of $1.34. My parents said, “This time we’ll make up the difference. You get a new start, but you have to be more careful next time.”

          One of the good things about passing from grade to grade, to starting anew each September, was the feeling of a fresh start each fall. (We weren’t aware of the extent to which our reputations and records preceded us.) At least for those who passed, there was always the feeling of beginning over: a new teacher, a new classroom, new subjects. My wife, Karen, assures me that teachers look forward to new years in much the same way.

          We all, of course, know people who decide in their marriages that they have accumulated so much garbage in their relationships that only with a new start, with a new spouse, can a satisfactory marriage be achieved. Speaking as a counselor, there are times when that appears to be sadly true. There are nice people who are unable to give one another another chance – trust is burned out. There are other times when it appears to a counselor that the best chance of success still lies with making a new start in the old relationship: so much that is positive is shared by the two people that if the accumulated garbage could only be risen above, hope might be found. The couple may or may not see it as the counselor does.

          There are people who seek the same “new beginnings” in their work. Over the years, the positives and the negatives of a job get so mixed up that a change of faces, a change of scenery seems as if it would offer instant relief from accumulated tension.

[the problem is . . . ]

          The problem is that in looking for external new beginnings, for quick fixes, we often miss the real problem. We all know many people who have had several unhappy marriages, or several unhappy jobs, who believe that the failures have always been the responsibility of a bad mate or a bad boss. The truth is that we often move into new situations carrying with us the seeds of the same unhappy outcome, like Typhoid Mary trying to escape from all the sick people around her.

          Believing that new beginnings are possible, we need to recognize that often the greatest obstacle to a new beginning is ourselves. We get so comfortable in our patterns of living, in our ways of doing things, that even when they prove to be obstacles to our goals, we fear change so much that we cling to the inadequate present and blame everyone else, thus making change impossible. As the religious prophets have consistently pointed out, if there is to be change, personal or social, it has to start within us.

          The ancient story I told the children of the poor family in the too small house points out that perspective on our problems is important. The problem with that story is that we might like to believe that all of our problems, or at least of other people’s problems, are just attitudinal. While there are people who grew up in poverty who did not feel poor, and therefore were not disabled by the experience, there are, in reality, people with families of ten who do not have enough room in which to live. The fact that it could be worse does not make the way it is ok. Positive thinking is not the solution to all problems.

          There are times when real change is necessary, or at least desirable. The fact is that change can only be accomplished when we acknowledge that there is something that is not right – not the way we want it to be, nor the way we believe it could be. It is not ok that millions of people have no access to decent health care, that millions of children in the richest society in the world go hungry, that there are people who have no realistic hope. Change, however, always requires risk because there is always the possibility that things will get worse. We are wiling to risk what we have or what we are, only if we believe that there is a reasonable chance of achieving something better.

          Once we have resolved that a new beginning, a change in direction, is both desirable and possible, we need to plan the next step. What are we going to do to institute the change? What will we do first? Second? Third? The first step is, of course, the most important, because, as the ancient Chinese proverb says, “A journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step.” 

[“we get by with a little help from our friends”]

          There is another important dimension to change. In addition to the individual and his or her attitude being important, most of the people who experience real change in their lives attest to the importance of other people in the process. We do not live alone. We cannot live alone. There are, in our lives, significant others who give us messages about ourselves. They tell us that we are lovable and capable of change – or that we are unlovable and incapable of change. The weird thing is that some of those who are the greatest obstacles to change are those who kindly keep assuring us that everything is “just fine.” If we believe that everything is not fine, the message we get from them is “You’re doing as well as someone of your limited capabilities can hope to do.”

          Sometimes, if someone close to you makes a significant change, it represents a threat to your well being for two reasons. First, you are used to relating to them just as they are: a change in them threatens the equilibrium of the relationship – even if it has been strained the way it’s been. That’s why participation is Alanon is so essential for the families of recovering alcoholics: as bad as it’s been, the relationship with the problem drinker is familiar. The second threat of change is that we use the impossibility of change as one of our rationalizations for not changing ourselves. If someone else can begin again, it threatens our lethargy, our inertia. That's why divorce often passes through congregations like a virus. “If Mary Jones doesn’t have to go on being emotionally abused, maybe I’m not doomed to do so either.” “If Frank can lose so much weight and experience new energy, maybe I could do so too.”

          If we are going to make a significant change in our lives, we need the support of people who know us and care about us, and believe in us. Even better is being part of a group that celebrates the possibility of change, and that works together to bring it about.

[hope]

          In case it hasn’t become clear, the major theme of this sermon is hope. Several years ago, Ann Landers wrote in her column that people who had trouble finding a church that was meaningful for them ought to visit their local Unitarian minister. As a result of that column, I received one letter, one phone call, and one drop-in visit. The drop-in was the least promising. He wasn’t actually looking for information so much as he was coming to share it. He already knew the truth - it was in the Bible he was clutching. He could not believe that anyone could believe what I told him we did. He broke into laughter when I told him we believed that people are capable of changing. From his perspective, change was only possible by renouncing self and believing that all of the answers for our lives are in the Bible and in the faith that Jesus would give us eternal life.

          But our gospel is one of change. It is not assurance that “We are living in the best of all possible worlds,” nor that “every day in every way, things are getting better and better.” Our gospel is that we are capable of change – that we are capable of making things better. Not that we can do it alone, but that we can do it – together.

[25 years!?]

          What brought this up is the reality that this is not just another September. In addition to this being a new year, it also marks the end of 25 years as senior minister of this congregation, and the beginning of my 26th. I have spent more than a little time looking at where we have been, where we are, and where we are going together. A couple of years ago I started dropping the “r-word” - retirement into conversations. That gave some people relief and others concern.

          I have been asking myself, “Does my continued ministry facilitate or hinder the growth of this church?” The problem is, the answer is, “Both.” There are advantages and disadvantages to long ministries. A long time minister knows the congregation and the community, and on the other hand, the minister knows the congregation and the community. Does that knowing lock-in the way things have been, or does it give us a jump on new possibilities? Probably some of both.

          I came to this church 25 years ago because of my belief in the possibility of our working together to make an exceptional congregation even more exceptional. How is that measured? I have never believed it is by numbers alone – if it were, we’d be in trouble. We now report 15% fewer members than we did then. That can be explained by the change in whom we count - we now have a separate category of inactive members for people who no longer support the church but continue to feel an attachment to it – they used to be counted as active members. We also have a new congregation which broke away to seek a different direction, which can be viewed as an achievement or a failure. I believe that the success, the health, of a church has to do with vitality, with the depth of commitment, with a willingness to take risks, with an openness to change. As I compare our church with other Unitarian Universalist congregations, I believe we have a great deal of which we can be proud, but not enough to be smugly self-satisfied. While there is a great deal for which we can congratulate ourselves, we do face challenges. Our congregation is aging - we are short of young families. We are not as racially, economically, theologically or politically diverse as we would like to be, or should be. We are not as welcoming of new people as we need to be. We are ambivalent about growth. As is common among churches of all denominations, too few people do too much of the work of the church.

          At the same time, we have strong lay leadership that is not afraid of acknowledging the challenges and facing them. I was energized last weekend by the retreat in which, for the first time I can recall, 100% of our board members participated. The Board will be communicating with you about the vision its members share about the challenges we face, and their commitment to offer leadership.

[focusing on the future]

          Our focus is not on the past, but on the future of this church – on how we can make our church even stronger and get our gospel out even more effectively to a world which needs to hear from us – the principles we affirm are important to the world in which we live – possibly now more than ever before.

          Every September brings us new challenges and new resources for facing them. We never know who will walk through our door and what strengths they will bring to our community. We know off the bat that we have new leadership in our music program, with the arrival of Tim Anderson, and we have Matthew Gatheringwater, a new ministerial intern for the coming year, both of whom inherently offer the likelihood if not the certainty of change. But what else? What more?

          As the old saying goes, “This is the first day of the rest of our life.” What is your vision for our church, and what role are you willing to play in achieving that vision? We begin again with our belief in the possibility of change. When we look back a year from now, what will be different about our church? Together, we have the means of making new things happen, of creating a new and richer relationships within this congregation, and between our congregation and the community around us. May we work together to create a year of which, when we look back next September, we will be proud.