I have two readings this morning. The first is from an address by the Reverend Victoria Safford entitled “Open Wide the Windows”:
The challenge for our movement on the threshold of the 21st century, is for us to stay open, to remain “unsealed,” available, but also to be absolutely grounded, clear in our convictions, our principles, our history, to know who we are and what it is we stand for… as a gathered people, bound by covenant in congregations and in our Association. “Unsealed” does not mean “unglued.”
…Can a religion defined not only by pluralism but by an evolving, open pluralism really hold together? Can it, can we, speak with relevance to a world that has traveled light- years away from the one we were born into (even if you were born only 20 years ago)? Can our religious way be relevant and reverent moving forward?
[Can we] find the fulcrum of integrity, and practice a religion that’s alive, not calcified and dead?
This from Daniel Berrigan, the Catholic priest and activist Safford quotes in a recent sermon:
“A fairly modest urging – Don’t kill, whatever the pretext. Leave the world un-befouled. Don’t hoard. Stand somewhere.”
Last week, Marcia read a story about a little girl named Irene, the daughter of a dressmaker, who braves a ferocious storm to deliver a ball gown to the duchess. As in many children’s books, where elements and animals have voice, the howling wind admonishes Irene to turn back and go home. “No!” she declares, “I’m on a mission.”
Are we? That is the question. For the last year and a half, the church has engaged in a process of strategic planning. Last year, three teams: rural, urban, and umbrella, studied the possibilities. We considered purchasing land in North Fitchburg. We investigated community partners who might want to use our building. We decided to hire an architect to conduct a feasibility study and draw up preliminary plans to make our building accessible: not only in terms of mobility impairments, but civically too. What might we do to make this building more user-friendly and attractive to the community partners we hope to attract?
In two weeks, the Strategic Planning Committee will present a report and the architect will display his drawings. Over the last several months, the folks directly involved in this effort have done yeoman’s service to the church. Many intriguing ideas have been put forth with input from a range of knowledgeable people including the mayor. But the question before us remains: what are we strategically planning for?
Are we planning so that we “practice a religion that’s alive”? Are we planning in an effort to achieve “a fulcrum of integrity”? Are we planning so that we can “speak with relevance to a world that has traveled light-years away from the one we were born into”?
Which raises the question: what makes us relevant and to whom?
Church historian Diane Butler Bass in an interview with Tom Ashbrook “On Point” this week cited an interesting statistic: Thirty percent of Americans polled identify as “spiritual not religious” while 48% identify as “spiritual and religious.” She extrapolates:
Large numbers of Americans are hankering for experiential faith whereby they can connect with God, the divine, or wonder as well as with their neighbors and [leading] to a more profound sense of meaning in the world. Americans are searching for churches—and temples, synagogues, and mosques—that are not caught up in political intrigue, rigid rules and prohibitions, institutional maintenance, unresponsive authorities, and inflexible dogma but instead offer pathways of life-giving spiritual experience, connection, meaning, vocation, and doing justice in the world.
Americans are not rejecting faith—they are, however, rejecting self-serving religious institutions.
Our church situates itself in a city that boasts a fantastic art museum, a dynamic drumming circle, and visionary young mayor. About a quarter of the population speaks a language other than English in the home. About twenty percent of residents live in poverty and the crime rate is slightly higher than the state average. 57.4 percent of the population affiliates with a religious congregation. As of March 2011, the unemployment rate in the city was twelve percent.
If we think about the population and conditions of Fitchburg, what do we offer that folks can’t get anywhere else? Are we doing all we can to “offer pathways of life-giving spiritual experience, connection, meaning, vocation, and doing justice in the world”?
During the course of our strategic planning, our architect, Chip Greenberg, sent me a link to a colleague’s blog. Chip notes with interest the Rev. Dan Harper’s thoughts on Unitarian Universalist mission statements. Dan read literally hundreds of them from congregations large and small, urban and rural, historic New England congregations and youthful fellowships founded in recent decades. Out of them all he found two effective. Folks who study mission for all manner of non-profits note that in order to be effective a mission must be short, concrete and clear. It expresses the purpose and pulse of an organization.
Too often, especially in our congregations where we dearly love our words, our lofty thoughts and cherished ideals, we wax eloquent and verbose. But think of travelers in an unfamiliar land. Imagine yourself in a place you’ve never been searching for a sign that indicates the location of a building you need, be it a hospital, the subway terminal, a grocery. You don’t want a paragraph description of the architectural highlights or a philosophical treatise on the moral underpinnings of the builder—especially in a language you don’t know. You want the universally understood graphic that takes a fraction of a second to register so you can feel assured and get on your way.
If a mission statement is analogue to the blue road sign with an H, the mission itself is analogous to the hospital. When we see that sign we know if we follow it we will end up in a venue for health care. We know what to expect, what we can find, and what we won’t. There may be a gift shop but not groceries. There may be a heliport for life flights, but there won’t be a train. That’s the beauty of a clear mission and a succinct summary of it.
At the end of the month, a Unitarian Universalist minister and church consultant named Jane Dwinell will facilitate a leadership session with the board and staff. The purpose is to help church leadership sharpen our focus, retool our efforts and put all our good strategic planning to use. In her book called Big Ideas for Small Congregations she writes:
Having a mission is the difference between being a congregation and a social club. Most clubs focus inward, enjoying the activities members do together with little or no thought about anything outside the group. Our congregations, however, have a larger purpose in this world. Unitarian Universalist congregations are hereto help people develop their own spirituality and then move their faith out into the larger world. Your congregational mission is about taking your faith community beyond your walls to live out what every faith professes in some words—making the world a better place.
She poses two questions to help a congregation determine its mission: 1) What are the strengths and passions of the congregation (considering the energy of the current members) and 2) what needs are most pressing in our community? I would add a third question: what is the most feasible, achievable intersection between the two?
Before I go further I want to say why church consultants of all stripes speak of mission as an imperative. St. Francis sums up the Christian imperative: “Preach the gospel everywhere; use words only when necessary.” Historically our denomination descends or arises, depending on your sense of direction, from two liberal Protestant faiths; so while our present incarnation of Unitarian Universalism has expanded beyond classic theism, it remains rooted in a wisdom tradition that began with monotheistic faith. Long before Ferenc David, a Unitarian in 16th century Transylvania uttered “God is one,” Jews were reciting the shema, or watchword of the faith: Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One.”
What’s significant here is that we belong to a religious lineage thousand of years old founded in covenant—which is to say relationship. The origin of Judaism is the recognition of a God who creates so as to be in relationship. In the 1930s when modern humanism found expression and a home within Unitarian thought, the understanding of relationship remained even without the notion of divinity. What makes religious humanism religious, in contrast to secular humanism, is a focus on relationship, and covenant. The pulse of modern humanism beats in the fervent belief that humankind bends toward progress, toward the enhancement of life for all. And the pulse of modern theism is found in keen awareness that all beings connect: that the self emerges only in relationship to other beings, and the physical elements that give life a material realm. Thus we are one.
So it isn’t just a few ministers opining about the importance of having a purpose beyond common interests or shared activities. It’s not even the historians and pollsters documenting the shift from the religious practices of yesteryear to a new generation of Americans seeking spiritual relevance. It’s the soul of monotheistic and humanistic faith. We congregate to rejuvenate; we celebrate to invigorate and bear witness; we console as an act of tikkun olam, mending the torn fabric, not only of Creation at large, but our lives—so that we can better channel our resources, energies, and strengths toward the needs of the world to which we belong.
We gather to notice and affirm the sacred in everyday life, to acknowledge the true nature and worth of all the beings. We gather to improve our spiritual practice of holding ourselves and each other accountable. We gather to stretch together into fuller postures of generosity, humility, and compassion. We gather to recharge our batteries so we can continue to spread our light and our gifts, our passion and our love into the wider world.
Mission is the expression of that—the needle of the compass that tells us we are moving in the direction of justice and generosity. It’s the pole star that indicates where we stand and for what and for whom.
So before we receive the strategic planning report and review the architect’s drawings, let’s take the time today, after this service, to consider again the mission of our church. What obtainable, sustainable effort will we consistently make in service to the larger community?
Church consultants suggest a mission statement concise enough to fit on every surface: the order of service, letterhead, website, brochure, banner and blog. If it’s too cumbersome to memorize or fit in a sentence comfortably, it is too big or vague to fulfill. As a starting point for our discussion I propose this: “We congregate, rejuvenate, celebrate and console to better commit ourselves and our resources to serving the community and the world.“ We could shorten to simply, “We congregate to rejuvenate and serve the world” but I wanted to give you enough to get to par down. The mission belongs to the congregation, and any mission driven by the minister is not a mission; it’s a vanity. I offer words to work with because that’s my gift, working with words. Our mission however is to collectively embody the covenant we have as Unitarian Universalists: to inhabit the world and enrich it with our inquisitive spirits and expansive hearts.
The purpose of a clear concise mission is to be that fulcrum of integrity by which we balance what we do and how we choose to do it. That’s why I’ve asked that the congregation as a whole to revisit how we raise the money we count on from an annual fundraiser, which for years, maybe decades, has been an auction. Last year we took a straw poll to decide the format but that is no substitute for conversation and discernment. There will always be room for—and a need for—divergent perspectives and methods. People will disagree on what constitutes appropriate means to achieve a particular end. That’s healthy. What covenant requires is that we all uphold the fiber that fastens us to each other. It’s easy in a democracy to think a simple vote is the answer. Voting insures that each person has a say; but if the say is nothing more than a sequence of monologues we don’t foster community; we foment individualism. And let’s face it, as Fred so eloquently read last week from our hymnal, “The way is often hard, the path is never clear, and the stakes are very high. Take courage. For deep down there is another truth: [we] are not alone.” (Wayne Arnason, # 698)
There is comfort in knowing this and a key way we know is by gathering here. In large measure it is why people congregate in religious community: to feel connected: to know that no matter how ornery or desperate, giddy or foolish, brilliant or promising we are, we will be held in a the circle of belonging. Church is our embrace. It restores us and challenges us, reconnects us and pushes us out the door to make a difference, to say to the howling wind, “We will not turn back. We are on a mission.” May it always be so.
