My first full time settlement was at the UU church of Palo Alto, where I served for 7 years. It was a very busy church with tons of programs, in a very busy ambitious community- home of Stanford and Facebook. I was called there as their first settled Minister of Religious Education, and to fill a new model of ministry they’d never had before- the Parish and RE ministers would be co-equals, to help create balance and connection between the families with kids and the congregants not actively parenting. When I left to move to Ithaca with my family it was a confusing time of transition. I was not sure what, if anything, of that ministry would have a lasting impact.
In 2019, when I was on the west coast for Labyrinth Summer School, I visited my old friend Amy Zucker Morgenstern who began her settlement at UUCPA while I was there, and is still the Parish Minister of UUCPA. She invited me to come into church with her on Sunday. I did this with some trepidation, as it brought up some old feelings.
While Amy prepared to lead worship, I immediately started to see friendly faces from my days as the MRE, folks who remembered me greeted me warmly. While Amy set up I gave myself a tour of campus. I went first to the site where the youth group had built a stone and sand labyrinth on the front lawn led in a day long retreat led by Amy and myself. There the old labyrinth had been replaced by a beautiful new paved one made of bricks, with a formal interpretive sign. It sat in the heart of the native plant garden, now expanded and matured with professional landscaping since that first workshop I had organized about native plants so many years ago. And there was the Madrone tree the church arborist had planted at my request in a big intergenerational ceremony. I walked the new labyrinth and my heart warmed to see how everything had grown and flourished.
“I hope you don’t feel bad that we changed it” said Dan Harper, who now served as the Religious educator, a role similar yet different from the one I had years ago. “No, I said, “you took something ephemeral and made it durable- it feels amazing to see something I helped plant transformed into a permanent part of the landscape”
I walked by the Green Sanctuary rack, with my name on it, because of the work I did with the tiny Green sanctuary team when it first began, and from there you could see the amazing solar array over the parking lot, providing not only alternative energy but shade for the cars that got so hard in summer. What an amazing project the congregation had manifest together, something I never could have conceived in a million years.
Afterwards there was a picnic, where among the sea of strangers there were families who had been in the program when I was Minister of Religious Education -- parents told me stories of their kids away at college or otherwise launched. One child who was a toddler when I started was finishing college, and remembered our children’s chapel I created and led.
The visit was so healing for me- such a blessing to see that some of the seeds my congregation and I planted together had grown and matured. Especially because, as I approached my 50th birthday and 23 years ministry I confess to you that I was wondering “does anything we do matter?” I think this is a hard but important question. In times like these when so much is changing, so much has been lost, one could be easily seduced into nihilism, into despair, but of course what we do matters. Of course we make a difference to one another. In this interconnected web of life we are because of those who came before.
Consider the legacy we have inherited as a faith community, the legacy that allows us to be here like this with one another. Consider that both the Sheshequin and Cortland buildings were first built by volunteers, consider how year after year people just like you and me made sure the boiler was repaired and the gutters were cleaned. Consider that neither building had electricity when they were built- imagine those board meetings, figuring out the when and how of electrifying a historic building, I can hear someone now asking “Do churches even need electricity? They’d survived for centuries without it…”
We don’t talk much about the financial legacy that our congregations benefit from today- but those have been invaluable in keeping us afloat during hard times. Our savings were built not only by the charitable donations left not only by generous individuals, but by congregations like those in the TPUC or NYSCU who, when they had to close their doors, left their savings as a legacy for enduring the support of those congregations and UU programs who continue.
Buildings are easy to see, but the important parts of churches are less tangible. I believe that these 2 congregations have endured for so long is their legacy of caring, their good hearts. Both are highly ethical groups with good boundaries. Both have taken stands in the community at critical moments in time. I am continuously inspired by the Cortland church’s role in the underground railroad, what a difficult and fearful path they chose. Imagine the difficult board meetings, the conflict or worry as those volunteers made that happen together? What an amazing legacy for our congregation, and for the community of Cortland.
The Athens congregation can remember back to that moment when the congregation took a stand to welcome transgender members decades ago. Sadly this was not without conflict and some members left. Today it seems natural and easy to have a membership that is beyond binary- that is a legacy too.
Some legacies are deeply personal, quiet and small yet profoundly important. So many people over the years have told me how their congregation touched their lives, saved their lives. A legacy of caring, a deeply personal and private legacy. May of these ways we touch lives we never know about, but they are just as real, just as important as the tangible legacies. For every historic marker there are hundreds of other legacies that leave their mark on the world, that build a better world.
“I hope you don’t feel bad that we changed it” said Dan Harper, who now served as the Religious educator, a role similar yet different from the one I had years ago. “No, I said, “you took something ephemeral and made it durable- it feels amazing to see something I helped plant transformed into a permanent part of the landscape”
I walked by the Green Sanctuary rack, with my name on it, because of the work I did with the tiny Green sanctuary team when it first began, and from there you could see the amazing solar array over the parking lot, providing not only alternative energy but shade for the cars that got so hard in summer. What an amazing project the congregation had manifest together, something I never could have conceived in a million years.
Afterwards there was a picnic, where among the sea of strangers there were families who had been in the program when I was Minister of Religious Education -- parents told me stories of their kids away at college or otherwise launched. One child who was a toddler when I started was finishing college, and remembered our children’s chapel I created and led.
The visit was so healing for me- such a blessing to see that some of the seeds my congregation and I planted together had grown and matured. Especially because, as I approached my 50th birthday and 23 years ministry I confess to you that I was wondering “does anything we do matter?” I think this is a hard but important question. In times like these when so much is changing, so much has been lost, one could be easily seduced into nihilism, into despair, but of course what we do matters. Of course we make a difference to one another. In this interconnected web of life we are because of those who came before.
Consider the legacy we have inherited as a faith community, the legacy that allows us to be here like this with one another. Consider that both the Sheshequin and Cortland buildings were first built by volunteers, consider how year after year people just like you and me made sure the boiler was repaired and the gutters were cleaned. Consider that neither building had electricity when they were built- imagine those board meetings, figuring out the when and how of electrifying a historic building, I can hear someone now asking “Do churches even need electricity? They’d survived for centuries without it…”
We don’t talk much about the financial legacy that our congregations benefit from today- but those have been invaluable in keeping us afloat during hard times. Our savings were built not only by the charitable donations left not only by generous individuals, but by congregations like those in the TPUC or NYSCU who, when they had to close their doors, left their savings as a legacy for enduring the support of those congregations and UU programs who continue.
Buildings are easy to see, but the important parts of churches are less tangible. I believe that these 2 congregations have endured for so long is their legacy of caring, their good hearts. Both are highly ethical groups with good boundaries. Both have taken stands in the community at critical moments in time. I am continuously inspired by the Cortland church’s role in the underground railroad, what a difficult and fearful path they chose. Imagine the difficult board meetings, the conflict or worry as those volunteers made that happen together? What an amazing legacy for our congregation, and for the community of Cortland.
The Athens congregation can remember back to that moment when the congregation took a stand to welcome transgender members decades ago. Sadly this was not without conflict and some members left. Today it seems natural and easy to have a membership that is beyond binary- that is a legacy too.
Some legacies are deeply personal, quiet and small yet profoundly important. So many people over the years have told me how their congregation touched their lives, saved their lives. A legacy of caring, a deeply personal and private legacy. May of these ways we touch lives we never know about, but they are just as real, just as important as the tangible legacies. For every historic marker there are hundreds of other legacies that leave their mark on the world, that build a better world.
Last year I was in a study group with Rev. Rosemarie of the Queens congregation, and so I got to hear some about her journey with the Queens congregation as they decided to close their doors as a congregation. I so admire their intentionality, their bravery for facing those hard questions, and doing so in a way that preserved relationships, and their UU values. I talked to Laura Ventrola of the Queens congregation who told me the ending was devastating but together they came to the realization that this was what needed to happen.
What is our legacy? This is a big question, an invitation for our consideration. It’s not a question we can answer in a single hour, so I invite you to ponder this with me, in your own musings and in our conversations together. What will our legacy be as a congregation? What have we already contributed to this community, and what more do we want to do? What will your legacy be, as an individual, as you look back over your life, and make plans for this next chapter of your life?
Over the course of this year we will continue to explore this theme of “legacy” together, and to wonder “what will our legacy be?” as a congregation, as individuals. Together we will look back, to see what we want to remember, to be intentional about what needs to be passed on. Together we will look forward, to see what more we want to do for the generations that will follow us.
In our children’s story "The Forever Garden", Honey told us “This garden isn’t really mine, it belongs to everyone.” So it is with our lives and legacies; we tend the garden, we tend the grape vines others planted before us, and we plant new trees for those who follow. What a blessing that we were born into this garden, born into a legacy planted and tended by the thousands of generations that came before. What a blessing to know that that when we need to set down our work, the next generations will tend the garden, and reap the harvest to come.
Just this week the Athens congregation received offers for the sale of their historic Sheshequin Meeting house, while the Cortland congregation also looks for new stewards for their Old Cobblestone church. Who will tend these legacies now that we have discerned they are ready to be passed on? Many of us are also in a time of change in our personal lives, considering moving out of our current homes, or wondering what will become of our heirlooms and treasured possessions as we are ready to set them down and move into the next chapter of our lives. This is deeply challenging spiritual work. I believe we need one another as we do this- that our faith community, our UU tradition can help us discern the meaning in these transitions, that living an ethical, spiritual life is not just about building up, but also about letting go, and passing on from one generation to the next.
Over the course of this year we will continue to explore this theme of “legacy” together, and to wonder “what will our legacy be?” as a congregation, as individuals. Together we will look back, to see what we want to remember, to be intentional about what needs to be passed on. Together we will look forward, to see what more we want to do for the generations that will follow us.
In our children’s story "The Forever Garden", Honey told us “This garden isn’t really mine, it belongs to everyone.” So it is with our lives and legacies; we tend the garden, we tend the grape vines others planted before us, and we plant new trees for those who follow. What a blessing that we were born into this garden, born into a legacy planted and tended by the thousands of generations that came before. What a blessing to know that that when we need to set down our work, the next generations will tend the garden, and reap the harvest to come.
No comments:
Post a Comment