"Decisions"

A sermon by Dave Weissbard

delivered at

The Unitarian Universalist Church

Rockford, Illinois

09/25/05

It is our contention as Unitarian Universalists that our religion is not a one-day-a-week thing but is rather something that we live. Religion for us is not just a matter of words and beliefs, but is the way we live, the action we demonstrate, “deeds not creeds,” we say. For us, one of the central religious activities is not the performance of rituals but the making of decisions in our lives that make the world a more humane place.

The making of a decision, the act of choosing between alternatives when the choice is significant, is an affirmation of some of our central religious tenets: to choose is an affirmation of our freedom; wisely, it is an affirmation of our reason; compassionately, it is an affirmation of the relevance of the principles, the values we espouse; ethically, it is an affirmation of our responsibility as human beings.

For me, a great deal of what is important about religion centers on the myth of the garden of Eden because I believe it so powerfully expresses a central dimension of our human situation. The Christian interpretation of the Eden event has distorted its real meaning. Eden has little or nothing to do with Adam and Eve's sexual exploits. The fruit that Adam ate at Eve's suggestion was not the apple of sexual desire -- it was the fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. The innocence which had predominated until that moment was the innocence of ignorance. Adam and Eve had not acted - they were not responsible- they didn't even know the rules of the game - they didn't know it was "good" to obey the rules and "evil' to disobey because they didn't know the difference -- only Jaweh, the big guy, knew that difference and he feared that if they did find out about it they would also become gods. Saying "Don't eat" to Adam and Eve was like saying, "don't eat" to a one year old sitting in front of a dish of ice cream -- the rules do not compute.

However after he had taken a big chomp of the tasty red thing Adam and Eve suddenly knew. Then, when it was too late, they understood the implications of their act. It was then that they realized:

And they were kicked out of the garden by Jaweh before they fully became like gods by eating of the fruit of the tree of life.

This myth expresses our sense of cultural history. As we look back from an evolutionary perspective it is our assumption that just as children are not born with an inherent sense of right and wrong but must develop it, so too our ancestors did not always possess ethical sensitivity. As homo sapiens emerged slowly, so did the cultural sense of good and evil. At one time we were incapable of judging our behavior and then we learned. We discovered that our actions have impact on others as theirs have impact on us, and rules for getting along with each other emerged. Smashing each other over the head with rocks became a no no, and once we learned that difference between right and wrong we could no longer legitimately claim innocence. When you know the difference you become responsible. If you violate the rules then, you do so knowingly.

Without having metaphorically sampled of the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil our ancestors would not have become human. That is a privilege and it is a curse because knowing we are less free. We are in some sense bound to a standard. Now, that standard is not the same in all of us – we have varying degrees of ethical sensitivity – but we can never move backwards with a clear conscience. That is not, however, to say that people do not move back. Some of us have a drive to test the limits. That individual and collective consciousness of the delight of acting on whim without reference to consequences – that pre-Eden state – is very tempting. We seek ways of justifying what used to be called "gay abandon" - a surrender of inhibitions and principles.

We all at least occasionally experience a gap between what we think we might like to do and what we believe we ought to do. It is in that gap that religion "does its thing" by calling us to confront the disparity between our ideals and our inclinations, our ideals and our actions.

In one of his "right on" cartoons Charles Schulz once had Linus telling Charlie Brown "I don't like to face problems head on. I think the best way to solve problems is to avoid them. This is a distinct philosophy of mine. No problem is so big or so complicated that it can't be run away from."

Even when it isn't a "moral dilemma" the act of making choices is often a painful one. It is common for people to seek ways of evading the choice process -- either by procrastinating (a favorite of mine going way back - it’s one of the earliest big words I learned), or denying our responsibility, or rationalizing that it doesn't really matter anyhow.

It's fine when we have to choose between something we like and something we don't like, something we want to do and something we don't want to do -- but then that's not really "choice" unless what we don’t want to do is something we know we need to do. It gets stickier when there are two mutually exclusive things we'd like to do (called an approach-approach conflict); or we are faced with having to choose between two things we'd rather do neither of (avoidance-avoidance); contending with something that has both positive and negative aspects (approach-avoidance); or worst of all having to choose between two alternatives each of which has both positive and negative dimensions (double approach-avoidance. )

Kurt Lewin, the social psychologist who labeled these choice situations, pointed out that we, as humans, are warm-blooded mammals, not rational calculators always at the ready to compute the varied effects of a decision so that we always choose the greatest good for the greatest number. We are reluctant decision makers "beset by conflict, doubts, and worry, struggling with incongruous longings, antipathies, and loyalties," which make the process of deciding a complex although an inevitable one.

In their study of the decision making process, Janis and Mann suggest that there are seven criteria by which we can predict whether a given decision is likely to lead to satisfaction or regret -- while we never have all the facts, and are never fully conscious of our biases, these criteria, they say, measure the quality of the process, which is the best guide.

First, when we are making a decision we need to thoroughly canvass a wide range of alternative courses of action. In most situations there are more possibilities open to us than we may at first realize - some of which we choose to ignore because they might get in the way of what we would rather do.

The next step is for us to carefully survey the full range of objectives to be fulfilled and the values implicated by the choice. That can be a hairy process. This is the centrally religious step because this is where we "fess up" to what is really involved, each alternative has implications for what we hold to be important. Sometimes we would like to treat serious decisions as if they were isolated and without meaning. How we spend our money, for instance, is a guide to what we believe is really important. What we do and do not do with our time is an expression of our true religion. When we accept a responsibility and then fail to follow through on it, we have made a value laden choice.

The third step is to weigh what we know about the costs and risks of negative consequences, as well as the positive consequences that are likely to flow from each alternative. There are people, in whose mouths butter would never melt, who can, time after time, adopt a pseudo-innocent look as they say, "why, it never occurred to me that that would happen. Why, golly, gee .... " We never know all the possible consequences, but we are sometimes reluctant to acknowledge even some of the obvious ones because of their impact on our decision.

When we want to make a responsible decision, we search for new Information that is relevant to the weighing the alternatives. Herein lies a trap -- when we are anxious to avoid deciding., we can use the data searching process as a way of postponing having to decide. "Gee, I don't know enough yet to decide. " can mean, "there will never be enough information to make me comfortable about accepting responsibility for this decision."

Finding information is not, of course, a guarantee that it will be processed. There are people who go from expert to expert, seeking advice, until they finally find one who tells them what they want to hear. The bulk of the data is rejected because it doesn't meet the criterion of supporting the decision they want to make. A woman in a previous congregation dragged her son to 19 psychiatrists before she found one who agreed with her diagnosis of him.

When we are making a responsible decision, after canvassing the range of alternatives, surveying the objectives and values, weighing the consequences, searching for new information, and assimilating that information appropriately, we re-examine the consequences of all the alternatives, including the previously rejected ones, before making a final choice. It's amazing how much better a rejected option can look after you have been through the whole process,

Finally, seventh, many a decision has been scuttled at the last moment by our failure to really make provisions for implementing the chosen course of action, which gives us the luxury of saying "I meant to do the right thing" without actually having to do it, A part of deciding is actually translating the decision into action.

It is clear that we need not engage in such a detailed procedure every time we decide whether to get out of bed, what to have for lunch, or which tv show to watch -- although we might well apply it to the turning on of the set. The less important the decision, the less necessary the process, but with significant decisions, it is important that we be conscientious about giving each step its due attention.

The fact is, of course, that many of our decisions are not made in the state of cool reflection, but rather under the heat of pressure. It is also true that there are intra-personal factors that have a profound effect on our ability to make a decision.

Our tolerance for ambiguity, for instance is crucial. We have a tendency to over-simplify the alternatives rather than deal with their complexities because we would like our choices to be more clear-cut than they are.

Our self-concept is important because the fear of failure inclines people to rush to decisions which, in fact, tends to promote failure. When we feel confident, we are more inclined to take the time needed so we can own our decision when we reach it.

The extent to which we have a sense of control over own life has a significant impact. Those who believe they have little control are inclined to see little value in working hard to decide wisely; whereas those who have faith in their ability to shape the world take that responsibility more seriously.

The most effective decisions tend to be made by people who are moderates in terms of risk-taking. Both big-riskers and non-riskers are disinclined to explore some good alternatives -- the big-riskers don't bother with moderate alternatives, and the fearful avoid all but minimal risks.

One of our old church school curricula focused on decision making. It taught how to make better ones by:

This is the kind of course that many of us wish we had the opportunity to take, and the kind which universities are increasingly offering.

Exploring decision making is, in reality, an key dimension of our experience together as a religious community. We try to consider the life decisions we make in a way which helps us to look at the consequences of the choices we have made, the reasons why we have made them, and how we might do better in the future.

I recently made one of the most difficult decisions of my life: the decision to retire. I tried to apply all the steps in making it responsibly. It was difficult in part because it was one of the freest decisions I’ve made – I didn’t have to do anything right now. On the other hand, it was not really so free – it was the product of many experiences, fears, hopes, and time. Remember the quotation from Lewin earlier:

We are reluctant decision makers "beset by conflict, doubts, and worry, struggling with incongruous longings, antipathies, and loyalties," which make the process of deciding a complex although an inevitable one.

One of the things that is frustrating in life is when someone else makes a decision that impacts you, and you have no say. You are in that position in regard to the senior ministry of this church. I have made what I believe is the right decision and you are, effectively, stuck with it, even if it is in your best interest. Colleen, Tim, Valarie, and Sharon are stuck with it. More dramatically, Karen and Hilary are stuck with it. Karen has been having nightmares in which I am the villain, in case you wonder how enthusiastic she is about the decision.

One of the choices I have is how to talk to you about the decision. I could, on the one hand, take the most traveled road of ministers and offer you a superficial, feel good explanation. The alternative is to take the road less traveled and be candid about some of the wrestling I have done with the components of what is, indeed, a “double approach-avoidance” decision in which both alternatives, continuing or retiring, have both positive and negative dimensions. I don’t really have a choice, of course: I am not able to take the more traveled “superficial, feel good” route. So here are some of the factors I have weighed in my decision.

One of my earliest, now embarrassing, memories as a minister was my judgmental attitude toward some of the older ministers in the Boston area who, it appeared, were hanging on to their churches for dear life, long after they had apparently stopped being effective. I swore I would never get in that position. I have been carrying that memory as a burden, a fear, throughout my career.

In my letter announcing my decision to retire, I referred to the old vaudeville dictum my father taught me - “Always leave them laughing.” One of our members gave me another version. Ethel Merman is reported to have said, “Better to sing one song too few than one too many.” But how do you know? You don’t want to sing two songs too few, to leave the stage prematurely. Do you wait for leaders of the congregation to come and tap you on the shoulder and say, “It’s time”? Chances are, their caring and appreciation would get in the way of their telling you soon enough.

Of course, as we know, “soon enough” is all in the eye of the beholder. There are members of this congregation, and former members, for whom my resignation could never have come soon enough; others who are more charitable would have been satisfied if I had left 20, or 15, or 10 years ago. In 1996, 73 members voted to oppose continuing my ministry. There are some for whom any time would be too soon for me to leave.

There are lots of good things about being a minister. We are paid to do things that many people would love to do: read, think, talk, speak out on controversial issues, be invited into people’s homes, share in joyous moments like marriages and infant dedications. Most people face conflicts between their ideals and the practicalities of the world that demand compromise. In theory, at least, ministers are expected to live their ideals. There is a wonderful variety of tasks that are a part of ministry, and there is a certain amount of respect that comes with the role, if you are at least minimally competent.

But being a minister has its downsides, too. Ministers have multiple employers, each of whom has a somewhat different image in his or her head (or gut) about what a minister is supposed to be like and to do, and many of those expectations are unconscious. While there may be some level of consensus within a congregation, in truth any minister is disappointing, failing to live up to the expectations of, some of the people all of the time, some of the people most of the time, some of the people infrequently, and hardly anyone, including the minister, is always satisfied. And the problem is that because ministry is so all encompassing, what you are being judged on is not just what you do, but who you are as a person.

There is never a shortage of people who are ready to tell you that you would be a better minister “if only. . .” If only you were less directive, or more directive, or you spent more time in the community, or less time in the community; were more denominationally active, or less denominationally active; more spiritual or less spiritual; more wishy-washy or less wishy-washy; more emotional or less emotional; more involved in social justice or less involved, more open about feelings or less open. The truth is, I’ve been told all of those, along with, I’d be a better minister if my office were neater.

One of the mentors to a number of our ministers, and a workshop leader for a continental gathering of UU ministers was the late Rabbi Edwin Friedman. Rabbi Friedman insisted that one of the main requirements of a minister was to be a “non-anxious presence.” I always thought that sounded great, and I’ve known a few ministers who were “non-anxious,” but most of them achieved that state by being supremely egotistical, insulated, isolated, out of touch, by not “giving a damn.” I’ve never been sure that is a virtue. In fact, it is my understanding Rabbi Friedman found more success in teaching his theory than he was in serving a congregation.

Intellectually, I agree with the church consultant, Peter Steinke, that people who criticize ministers are usually over-focusing on the individual. “Instead of focusing on who they are and what they are about as a community, they peer intently at who the [minister] is and what the [minister] does.” While Peter insists conflict is usually not really about the minister, that knowledge is hard to maintain on an emotional level. One of the things that has worn me down gradually over the years is the accumulating burden of the ghosts I carry with me: the ghosts not of the dead, but of those who have left the churches I’ve served. Those departures almost always feel like personal failures – maybe not as dramatic as the failures of doctors, but failures nonetheless. I often tell myself, “There must have been something I could have done differently or said differently to keep them in the fold.”

It is undeniable that I am more divisive than ministers who strive never to offend. My problem is that I grew up with a minister I loved who took strong stands with which I sometimes disagreed. I believe that a minister who speaks his or her mind makes for a more vital church than one in which the minister is always saying, “On the one hand and on the other hand.” Some, but not all, of our continuing members agree; some, but not all, of those who have left do not.

A few years ago, I went to a continental convocation of UU ministers at which there was a lot of discussion about the “dinosaurs,” the old ministers who just didn’t “get it,” who were seen as obstacles to the growth of our movement because of their humanism. I suddenly realized that I was of the generation that was being discussed, by which I really mean “dissed.” I had to ask myself if by surviving so long, I had inadvertently become one of those of whom I was so critical 40 years ago.

One of my classmates, Rolfe Gerhardt wrote a paper as he approached retirement in which he suggested that there has been a “paradigm shift [during our ministries] from offering a religion of adventure to offering a religion of healing.” He cited Carol Pearson’s archetypes of the Orphan who “is energized by feelings of pain, disillusionment, loss of faith, abandonment, failure of hopes and dreams and powerlessness. . . The Orphan seeks out persons, groups, and structures that will help the Orphan feel safe again.” In contrast, there is The Seeker who “feels less pain than alienation, dissatisfaction and emptiness. And markedly different is that the Seeker uses feelings of uneasiness as motivation to explore and wander, to take risks and search out the new.” The "seeker" approach, in which Rolfe and I and our generation were rooted, assumes fundamentally “I’m ok and you’re ok”; the healer assumes “I’m not ok and you’re not ok.” We are, of course, all a mixture, but the form a ministry takes depends upon which you believe should predominate – challenge or consolation. I was taught we were charged with comforting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable. It appears to be “in” today to assume that everyone is afflicted and no one should be challenged because everyone’s pain is too great: healing, not challenge, is the core concept of many modern UU ministers. That has been true of other denominations for a long time; it has become truer of ours in the last decades. I am used to being out of the mainstream in the larger community, but I am coming to feel in the minority among UU ministers, and that is a very lonely feeling, indeed.

Intellectually, I’m not overly concerned about any of this. I believe my ministry here has been and continues to be effective. That may be true, or it may be an indication that my defense mechanisms are in good shape. Emotionally, I do worry and wonder, and that wears me down.

Something else that troubles me is the number of times recently in committee and board meetings I’ve caught myself saying, “We’ve already tried that and it didn’t work.” I always try to quickly add, “But that doesn’t mean it won’t this time.” The reality is experience is not always a plus. I can remember when I looked forward to meetings. After forty years in ministry, there is little that comes up that has not come up before and there is a feeling of “been there, discussed that” which does not foster creativity or innovation.

In the last couple of years, the UUA has been giving $10,000 prizes for sermons that can be no more than 2,000 words long. That requirement is based on certain assumptions about what congregations are looking for in a sermon. Mine are generally close to twice that length, [according to my computer, you have now heard 3,954, and I’m not finished yet]. I’m sure that some people would be attracted by shorter, less content-oriented sermons, but, would they be “better” for most of you? That is a judgement call depending upon your perspective. The UUA is now circulating a CD for lay leaders that suggests that what people really want to hear in church are not sermons at all but panel discussions among lay members of life issues . That is not what I’d go to church for.

I have never believed that numbers are the best measure of success. If that were so, we would have to model ourselves after Heartland Church. When I came here, this church had 485 members. We had an increase during the first couple of years, but then we got more serious about our definition of active members - moving those who wished to be members in name only to an inactive list, and removing those who declined to request a waiver or offer support . Twenty-six years later, we have an active membership of 423, an apparent net loss of 13% when we would like to be growing. [That is roughly the number we lost by differentiating active from inactive members.]

Unitarian Universalists represent 75 one thousandths of one percent of the US population – that means 75 in a group of 100,000. Applying that to the Greater Rockford Area would mean we should have a membership of 278. The Peoria and Naperville churches, which draw from fairly comparable populations both in fact have memberships of 276 - right on the money. By this standard, we are not doing badly at all: our 423 is 50% larger than would be predicted. Then again, the Madison congregation, after a long ministry, with its new minister went from being smaller than ours to being the largest in the UUA with a membership of 1300. Madison’s population is not three times ours, but the demographics there are certainly more promising for Unitarian Universalism than are Rockford’s. The truth is that I am not convinced about the likelihood of this church growing significantly, and that lack of conviction, which might be called realism or pessimism depending on your perspective, is an obstacle to the possibility of growth. I don’t want to be an obstacle.

I am trying to give you a glimpse of the myriad of factors that have played into my decision:

• There are the inherent downsides of ministry - too many conflicting expectations

• There is my own awareness of the gap between my vision of ministry and what I am able to be and do

• There is my sense of the changes in the UU Ministry, which leaves me feeling fossile-like and outside the professional group with which I have identified

• There is the loss of a relationship which has been so central to the prime third of my life

• There is the desire to see this church have the opportunity to grow, and whether or not it does, at least not to worry about being an obstacle

Friends, I am tired. I have been a parish minister for 40 years. I began my ministry to this congregation in 1979. That was a year before John Hinckley, Jr. shot President Reagan, 4 years before the Macintosh computer was introduced. I had been here 10 years when the BerIin Wall fell, 14 years when OJ was charged with murder, 15 at the time of the Oklahoma City bombing, 17 when Princess Diana died.

I am now 65 years old and I have less energy than I used to have, and I am beginning to find it hard sometimes to come up with the word or name I am searching for. I am in need of a change, not just of faces or location, but of responsibilities. Combine all these with the personal issue of being so far from my grown daughters and my grandchildren, and the fact that Hilary begins high school next fall, and I suspect you can see that for me, the decision to “walk away,” to retire at the end of this church year is the right one.

With many of these factors sounding somewhat negative, I want to be clear that I am by no means apologizing to you or preparing to leave with a sense of failure. Hell no! The fact is that I believe that our quarter of a century (plus what will be 2 years) together has been productive. I believe this is at least as strong a congregation, and I believe a stronger one than it was when I came here in 1979. People whose judgement I value support that belief. I am confident that I have served the cause of liberal religion to the best of my ability. There are people who tell me that my presence as a minister has made a difference at critical times in their lives. So I am not whining or complaining or feeling negative or defeated. But I am feeling that this is the time “to walk away,” while I still have another song to sing and you are still laughing.

It is a complex decision with pluses and minuses on both sides. I have focused my professional career and personal life on this church. My older daughters grew up here; you grieved and supported me when my first wife died here; you celebrated with me when I married Karen here; Hilary was born here and has blossomed in the bosom of this church. It is hard for me to think of leaving, but with everything I have invested in the health of this church, I need to know when “to walk away” for the good of the church’s future as well as mine, and I believe this is that time.

What will happen to this church? It will not be the same. You will find that the reputation of this church will help you have a quality pool of ministers from which to choose my successor and if you do a wise job of selecting a search committee you should land an excellent one. The person you choose as minister will do some things better and some not as well as I have. I have no clone, and you wouldn’t really want one if there were. After 27 years, it will be time for a change for you. The purpose of the interim ministry you will experience in the next two years will be to clear your palates, as it were, to help you experience a style of ministry different from mine and free up your choice of a successor. It is a fact that a new ministry can be like adrenaline to energize a congregation which is beginning to show some signs of being lethargic and too content with the status quo.

As for me, the first step was making the decision with which I have been wrestling. I am now beginning to explore what I will be doing for the rest of my life in a context where Karen can continue her career. The one thing that is certain is that I will no longer be your minister. I will continue to love this church, and look forward to invitations to visit from your new senior minister after she or he is established, but our relationship will have changed. The code of ethics to which I have subscribed makes it clear that I will play no role in the choice of successors and will not be able to perform ministerial duties here, as much as personal relationships with you will make me want to. Never forget that this church is more than any minister that ever has or ever will serve it.

Most importantly, right now, I am anxious that you leave this morning remembering what Wisey the owl told the animals in the forest in the skit Colleen wrote for our Homecoming service, “There is something I have got to tell you before we go any further. We don’t have to be in a hurry to say our goodbyes. Fall’s just started and I’m not leaving until summer. . . Saying goodbye is something that shouldn’t be rushed. And now we’ll really appreciate the time we have left.”

We will have lots of time to say our goodbyes and to celebrate what we have had together, and then you will have time to focus on where you want to go from here.

This has been a painful decision to make, but I have no doubt that it was the right one at the right time, for me and for this church.