The Dance We’ve Done
The final sermon delivered by
The Rev. Dave Weissbard
as senior minister
of the
Unitarian Universalist Church
Rockford, Il
READING
“Why I Want to Become a Minister”
Dave Weissbard 12/10/62
[an essay written for UUA recognition as a student for the UU ministry]
Probably the question I’ve been asked the most in the past six months is, “Why do you want to become a minister?” with the emphasis varying from the “why” to the “do,” to the “you,” to the “minister” depending un the background of the interrogator. My replies have met with responses ranging from, “It certainly is wonderful for you to give up your life for the church” to “You’re kidding!” depending on the questioner’s concept of the ministry. Although this question is a familiar one to me, I have not developed a lengthy answer to it as yet; my reasons are rather brief, although adequate for me. I believe in liberal religion and I believe that the ministry offers me the greatest opportunity fort a way of life which I will find satisfying.
I am firmly convinced that the Unitarian Universalist movement has a great deal to offer modern [people.] Unlike those who see a diminished need for the religious institution in modern society, I believe that [the human] need for finding a personal relationship or orientation to the universe has increased with the complexity of our society. Further, I believe that the Liberal Church is the place where this need is most likely to be fulfilled. Also, as many people have pointed out, [people’s lives] in our society [are] becoming increasingly segmented; [we] are in need of an opportunity to express [ourselves] as total person[s]. Again, I believe the liberal church holds the answer for many people. I believe that these factors and others point to a period of growth for our churches in the near future. I would like to be a part of this growth.
I have given consideration to a number of different fields as possibilities for my life’s work. I have a rather wide range of interests and I have been unable to come up with any other vocation which would permit, much less encourage, the following of such diversity. I am concerned with having an opportunity to keep up with what is being said and written about the world, about [humanity], and about the relationship of the two. Further, I am interested in having an opportunity to share my reactions to things of importance with others. For a long time I have had an interest in counseling, having a desire to help others to find meaning in their lives. I get a great deal of pleasure from the administration and promotion of projects and organizations. A balanced opportunity to pursue each of these seems to be offered by the life of the minister in the liberal church.
Because of the significance which liberal religion has had for my life and for that of my family; because of the attraction which I feel tot he life of the minister; and because I believe that I may be able to help others find meaning in liberal religion, I am anxiously awaiting the opportunity to accept the challenge of serving as minister to a Unitarian Universalist congregation.
THE SERMON
Decades ago, one of my colleagues whose name I have lost, wrote these words upon leaving a church:
“Kind Sir,
Say something profound.
You are leaving us,
After all.”
Sorry friend,
This I cannot do
Lest nearly [27] years of
Preaching seem but
A preface to this
Moment when at last
Some great truth
Is revealed.
I have already
Had my say on many
A Sunday morn,
And it was and is
The best wisdom I know.
In these myriad
Words now quietly
Filed away in
Cold grey chests of steel
I fondly hope that
Some meaning in life
was found.
Now there remains
But one word to say,
Affectionately,
Warmly,
Mixed with
A touch of both
Sadness at leaving
And excitement in venturing forth.
To my dear friends,
Good-bye.
[stumbling into ministry]
It would, indeed, be foolhardy to try to be profound this morning, so I will not try. There are some things I want to say, however. As I noted in the newsletter, in the process of packing my papers and visiting last week on the campus where I earned my BA and my graduate degree in theology, many memories have been stirred up and I want to share some of them with you.
This is my final sermon as a settled minister – I do hope and expect to be asked to preach as a guest on occasion in the future, but this is the end of my ministry per sae. While I want to focus particularly on the dance we’ve done together, I will begin by putting my ministry here in the larger context of my ministry as a whole.
You heard the essay I wrote in 1962, just after I entered theological school, about why I thought I wanted to become a minister. You will note that there was no mention of a mystical “call” to this vocation.
I still remember the day within the first couple of weeks of college, when a UU friend, also a freshman, came down the hall and announced that he had pre-enrolled at the UU theological school which was on the St. Lawrence campus – it was for that school that the University was founded: the undergraduate program was an afterthought. “Pre-enrollment” meant that one received a draft deferment for saying that one would consider attending seminary and getting the seminary to indicate it would consider admitting you. Pre-enrollees were welcome to participate in the social life of the theological school and I got to know a number of ministers that way.
When I was about to receive my BA, I still had no clear career goal, so I decided to explore ministry further. That wasn’t “off the wall” because I had been very active in UU churches both in high school and college. As I neared the completion of my three years in theological school, I was accepted into preliminary fellowship as a UU minister, and I set about finding a church, even though I was still not certain.
[Bedford]
The First Parish in Bedford has specified that it would not consider a new graduate because it had been stung in the past by one who did not stay long – he decided he wasn’t ready. (He also was a St. Lawrence graduate.) The person at UUA headquarters who linked churches with potential ministers gave the Bedford search committee 9 names that met their criteria, but after a conversation with me, asked them to do him a favor and just look at my materials. They did, and decided to consider me. The most skeptical member of the committee was going to be away when I met with the rest of the members, so he drove 9 hours from Bedford to Canton, talked with me for a couple of hours, and then got back in his car and drove back home. I sold him, and he has been one of my closest friends for 41 years – he and his wife will be among the Bedford folk here for the celebration next week.
I was nervous, particularly under those circumstances about accepting the call – I worried that I might not work out as a minister. I was concerned about the dual stereotypes of ministers: the spineless wimp who bends him/herself into a pretzel trying to be all things to all people, and at the other extreme, the rigid person convinced that his or her words are the words of a divine judge. I believed that a minister needed to be fully human, to be visibly fallible (I have had no problem achieving that) and to have integrity: to speak the truth as he or she sees it without worrying about the repercussions. I knew going in that I did not fit the stereotypes and I wondered if people would accept me as I was as a minister. I thought I might have another short tenure like that previous new minister. There are those over the years who have indicated I was right to be concerned.
The Bedford church was an exceptional one in which to begin a ministry. It was an atypical New England congregation in a very typical New England meetinghouse. A very significant portion of the congregation was people who had moved there because of the engineering firms on route 128 around Boston. They were liberal and anxious to be involved. They warmly welcomed me and we had a wonderful time together - discussing, eating, partying, supporting one another, challenging one another. Those years were rich in controversy – the civil rights movement, the Vietnam War, sex education, the sexual revolution, and the movement of drugs into suburban schools all happened during my tenure in Bedford. We lost some members, but gained others. There was a very strong sense of community. It was very comfortable – so comfortable that I feared I was getting in a rut after nine years.
[Fairfax]
I was approached then by the Fairfax Unitarian church, in the Washington DC suburbs. It was exciting to think about preaching to people who were in the government – people who clearly needed community. I did not realize the enormity of the challenge. We had people in the congregation from 23 zip codes. People were exhausted and cranky after commuting to the District and working in the bureaucracy, and it was hard to get them to the church between Sundays. There was a certain amount of dysfunction– I was told about the food fight at a previous congregational meeting when some people disagreed with one another. The atmosphere in the church was antagonistic rather than supportive. I learned a lot about ministry that I had not experienced in Bedford. My predecessor was a poet; I was not. He never wore suits; I did. He had little concern about organization per sae; I did. It was before the UUA urged the use of interims, and I paid the price following him.
My time in Fairfax was not, by any means, all negative. We shared some wonderful experiences and there were friends I made whom I still see to this day. When I went back for the church’s 50th anniversary celebration last year, I referred to myself as having been merely a long interim and suggested my role had just been transitional. A surprising number of members came to me to tell me that my ministry had been instrumental in the development of the health and vitality of that congregation, and that many still deeply valued those times we shared almost three decades ago.
I, however, feared early on that I had made a mistake in going to Fairfax, and I began in my third year to look for somewhere else to go. Toward the end of that year we began to make real progress in changing the atmosphere, and so I told the UUA that I had decided to stay.
[seduced by Rockford]
I was then contacted by the search committee from this church. I sent my regrets and said that I had decided I was not available. Dave Arnold, chair of the committee, with whom I had previous contact at a General Assembly when John Anderson spoke to the UU Fellowship for Social Justice, of which I was president, asked if I would be willing, as a favor to him, to meet with the Committee during the 1988 General Assembly in Boston, just so they could practice their interviewing. I saw through that ruse, but figured I had nothing to lose.
I was entranced by the committee. There was palpable warmth; there was diversity; there was a stable church behind them in a community of manageable size; there was evident respect for ministry. I decided to pursue the possibility further and came here in October of 1978 to preach for the committee and interview and be interviewed by them.
It was a match. The fact that there were 3 Daves on the committee was an omen. This picture was taken during that interview.
Of the guilty parties who decided to recommend my ministry to you, three (Ann Haub, Dave Arnold and Dave Caskey) are still active, two have died (Dave Connolly and Anne Foster), three moved away (Helene Horger, Evie Funk and George Brening), and one (JoAnn Johnson) decided the church had made a mistake and became inactive at the end of my first year.
I came to meet the congregation and to be considered in December of 1978, and after an intense week, my call was approved by a congregational vote of 259 yes and 10 no. Because I had accepted responsibility for supervising an intern and my colleague in Fairfax was due a sabbatical, we agreed that I would not begin my ministry here until August of 1979.
I arrived, anxious to begin. I was startled and worried when three people died within a week that September. Fortunately that was an anomaly.
A “Parson’s Pantry Party” was held to welcome my family and this picture was taken at that event.
My eldest daughter, Lisa, turned 16 that
October. Shelley was 13 and Meri 11.
This, of course, is my first wife, Linda.
[the dance]
During the candidating process I had spoken in terms of a courtship, and on the morning of my Installation as minister, I used the analogy of a dance between minister and congregation, referring to Ric Masten’s song, “Let it Be a Dance.”
LET IT BE A DANCE
Let it be a dance we do.
May I have this dance with you.
Through the good times
And the bad times too.
Let it be a dance
Let a dancing song be heard.
Play the music, say the words
And fill the sky with sailing birds
And let it be a dance.
Learn to follow learn to lead.
Feel the rhythm, fill the need.
To reap the harvest plant the seed
And let it be a dance
Everybody turn and spin.
Let your body learn to bend
And like a willow with the wind
Let it be a dance.
A child is born the old must die.
A time for joy a time to cry,
So take it as it passes by
And let it be a dance
The morning star comes out at night.
Without the dark there is no light
And if nothing’s wrong then nothing’s right
So let it be a dance.
Let the sun shine, let it rain.
Share the laughter, bare the pain
And round and round we go again
So let it be a dance
Let it be a dance we do.
May I have this dance with you.
Through the good times
And the bad times too.
Let it be a dance
We Do.
“Share the laughter, bear the pain . . . through the good times and the bad times, too, let it be a dance. . .” Ric counseled. That morning, in search of a reading, I happened upon the biblical story of King David dancing and used it since it fit the dance theme. Later that week I was visited by an indignant delegation of feminist members. In the story, King David’s wife objected to his dance and was struck dead by God. The delegation knew for a certainty that my subtext was that God would strike dead any women who opposed me. The fact that I did not believe in God was of no consolation to them.
At the end of my first year as minister, I identified two problems that needed to be addressed: The gap between those who had been members at Auburn Street and those who were Turner Street joinees; and a reluctance of members to participate in decision making and responsibility taking. I’ll come back to those.
It was during my second year that the opportunity to present FUSION on WIFR came about. Some members opposed it even though it was, at first, free. They were never clear about why. All I could infer was that they were embarrassed by my ministry and didn’t want to community to see how bad it was.
We also called Diana Heath as assistant minister that year. Unfortunately, although inexperienced, she really believed that the congregation should replace me with her and has acknowledged since that she actively pursued that goal. That did not make for smooth sailing.
We had a rocky start. By the end of my third year, I said in my annual report that I considered survival an accomplishment. One of the letters I found in packing was from a member who warned me at that time that if I did not resign before fall, a special meeting would be called to terminate my ministry. I asked the board to bring in a conflict consultant. After interviewing church leaders, he reported his finding that the church had not adequately dealt with the departure of Tony Perrino, my predecessor, and my ministry was being hampered by that, as well as by the relationship with the assistant.. The church had used its inexperienced associate ministers, Henry and Frederika LePore as interims. It was not their goal to make the way easy for the new minister – in fact, it was suggested that they had “poisoned the well.” Again, the importance of an experienced minister as interim was brought home. The consultant’s report cleared the air. Things got better.
You can see that there is not enough time for a year by year analysis of my ministry here. It has certainly lived up to Ric Masten’s suggestion that the dance involves “good times and bad times, too.” We have had our share of both.
[bad times]
Highest on my list of the bad times was the diagnosis of Linda’s cancer in February of 1987, and her death that May. The only positive element of that experience is that I was glad we were here and not still in Fairfax. The support I received from this congregation during that difficult time was absolutely everything anyone could ask for.
The congregation was accepting when, three years later, Karen and I were married. She was warmly received, which would not always be the case with the new wife of a minister, and Hilary has lived her whole life thus far as the child of this congregation. This is her family.
Second among the darkest periods was the time, a decade ago, when a group of members who did not find my ministry meeting their needs, decided that it was time for a change. One of the leaders of that group publicly stated that he did not care how many people were satisfied: he was not and was determined to be. We again tried the consultancy route, but it did not follow its own principles and did not prove constructive in terms of the conflict. I ultimately requested a vote of the congregation on the continuation of my ministry. I did receive the support of 3/4 of those voting, and was urged to stay by others who could not attend. Important in that decision was a note from a member of the “concerned” group who acknowledged how destructive my departure would be. The major reason why I did not leave was conversations I had with ministers who had left their churches under such circumstances and then saw those congregations repeat the pattern with future ministers – it became a way of being. The other reason was my commitment to the democratic process: I found it hard to agree that 1/4 should rule.
There is, perhaps, a third reason. I once had the experience in Bedford of being in a bookstore where the clerk was reading something out loud that sounded like a description of my personality. I discovered that she was reading from an astrology book about people born under the Cancer, the sign of the crab, which is my sign. Such folk, the book said, hang on tenaciously to their homes.
The third bummer for me was the congregation’s decision to go back to one service instead of two, which I believe had demonstrably deep repercussions. It was a “no growth” decision. It happened during the controversy over continuing my ministry and for some it was a move toward comfort and safety, but I believe it hurt the church.
Last year’s internship also produced an abundance of negative energy. We were warned in advance, but we did not anticipate how difficult it could be for the supervisors. It was draining.
[good times]
There have been many high points. The construction of our addition is certainly one. So much of what we ministers deal with is transient, that to have something concrete (no pun intended) to point to, feels very good.
Fusion has been a continual point of satisfaction. I know of no minister in our movement who preaches to a larger congregation on Sunday mornings – with the possible exception of the New York City ministers who, last I knew, shared a late night slot on a radio station. To meet people on the street who tell me how important Fusion has been to them has been a dimension of my ministry here which has carried me through some of the tough times.
For the last 17 years, I know that my effectiveness as a minister has been enhanced by the opportunity I have had to work with Colleen McDonald. Because she is less extraverted, a lot of people are not aware of how much ministry she does behind the scenes to make this church as great as it is.
And I had 25 years to work with the talented Kay Hotchkiss, and now two with Tim Anderson, both of whom have added brilliance to our Sunday services.
And this church has benefitted from some wonderful presidents and other officers and trustees. There has only ever been one president with whom I had a stressful relationship, and that was during the Assistantship. He had a habit, after I would speak at a board meeting, of turning to Diana and saying, “Now let’s have the real story.”
I cannot ignore the sermons, of which this is number 634. I have done my best to speak the truth as I have seen it. The only sermon I regret is the one in which I suggested that there was little difference between Bush and Gore. That is a testimony to the abysmal Gore campaign, but that is no excuse. It’s good to have one to retract. There have been others, of course, which have resulted in very demeaning letters from, or confrontations with, members who took offense. People who believe in the free pulpit often have limits of their own – “It’s OK to offend others, but not me.” One of the most controversial ones was a Mother’s Day sermon a few years ago in which I mentioned some mothers who were serial killers. The fact is that I received as much praise as condemnation for that one. There have been others. My goal has always been, as someone once said, “to stimulate your consideration of your own ideas.” Some have appreciated that more than others.
You have had the opportunity for more diversity from your pulpit than any other congregation I know. It has been a principle of mine since my first church to be sure that the congregation hears others voices, and you have. I don’t believe I have ever delivered more than 25 sermons in a year so there was an opportunity for guests and diversity on the other 27. You have had the opportunity to hear something like 150 of the best preachers in our movement.
When I spoke to the VSP group last month, I told them that the most important part of my ministry here, to me, has been the relationships. Those relationships are symbolized by the 125 memorial services and the (sadly smaller) number of infant dedications in which I have participated. I have had the privilege of memorializing many people about whom I cared deeply. There have also been the many opportunities I have had to be of assistance to members at times of crisis in their lives. That is fundamentally what ministry is about.
[identified issues]
I said I would come back to the two issues I identified early on: the gap between old and new members, and the issues of lay leadership and responsibility.
I believe we did pretty well on the gap between old and new, and not only because so many of the Auburn Street members have died. I worked to be sure that the long term members knew their continued presence and participation was valued. They had felt ignored previously.
I am not so proud about our achievements in decision making and responsibility taking. There is a greater tendency in this church than the other two I served, for people to sit back when their input is solicited, and then to complain that the decision was made without them.
The problem with as well as the virtue of a long ministry is that the minister has accumulated experience. Knowledge is power. I have heard the complaint that I have had too much authority, that boards listen to me too much. I’m not sure how long you would want to keep a minister to whom boards chose not to listen, but it seems that the only way I could have helped this would have been to say obviously stupid things. I set out to try to empower lay leadership: that has always been my goal. I have not been as successful at that here as in my previous churches.
[the future]
I want to say something about the future. As of the end of this month, I will never again be your minister. I will not be one to whom you can turn with ministerial needs. I will grieve when beloved members of this congregation die, but I cannot be available to memorialize them. I will rejoice in marriages of young people I’ve known and loved, but I cannot marry them. My ministry will be history. You need to turn to Colleen and the new ministers with those needs so they can build the relationships that come from such service.
At the same time, I do want to assure you that I am not among those ministers who believe that all contact with dear friends must be severed with the ending of a ministry. I will be happy to hear from you, just not regarding any complaints about ministers.
I am delighted that you have found a qualified minister to serve as interim. Do understand that things will not be the same – that is what change is about. Some changes you will welcome, undoubtedly some you will not – every minister I know has strengths and weaknesses. I trust my successors will keep their office neater than I have.
It is important that you be open to and welcoming of the ministers who will follow me. When you step back and look at it, it is clear that I am only one in a series of ministers who have served this church since its founding, and I will not be the last. But always, from the very first, the strength of this church has not been in the ministers so much as in the people of the church. You are what it is about; it is you who make it what it really is. And you need to understand that, and accept the responsibility for its support and nurturing.
[Gibran]
Kahlil Gibran, in the Prophet, tells of the departure of the Prophet.
And now it was evening. And Almitra, the seeress said, “Blessed be this day and your spirit that has spoken.” And he answered, “Was it I who spoke? Was I not also a listener?”
Then he descended the steps of the temple and all the people followed him and he reached the ship and stood upon the deck. And facing the people again, he raised his voice and said:
People of Orphalese, the wind bids me leave you. Less hasty am I than the wind, yet I must go. . . Brief were my days among you, and briefer still the words that I have spoken. . . . If aught that I have said is truth, that truth shall reveal itself in a clearer voice and in words more kin to your thoughts.
I go with the wind, people of Orphalese, but not down into emptiness; and if this day is not a fulfillment of your needs and my love, then let it be a promise till another day. . . . People’s needs change, but not our love, nor our desire that our love should satisfy our needs.
[thank you]
As a new student for the ministry in 1962, I stated my belief in liberal religion and that “the ministry offers me to greatest opportunity for a way of life which I will find satisfying.” I went on to say that that satisfaction would come from service to the people of a liberal church. The people of Bedford and Fairfax helped to prepare me for this ministry, the twenty-seven years, 2/3 of my career, during which we have danced together through the good times and the bad. My ministry has never been as good as I wanted it to be, but I can honestly say that I have given you the best I have had to offer. That has been good enough for some, and not for others. That, I believe, is the hardest part of ministry – knowing that you will always fail dismally in the eyes of some regardless of how many you please. My expectations of the fulfillment the ministry would offer have been fully met.
You have offered me a wonderful opportunity to explore the world of meaning with you, and to be a part of your lives for more than a quarter of a century. I am glad I chose ministry, and I am glad that we found each other to dance with. And now we move on to the future to see what we will make of it.
Now there remains
But one word to say,
Affectionately,
Warmly,
Mixed with
A touch of both
Sadness at leaving
And excitement in venturing forth.
To my dear friends,
Good-bye.