Through a Glass, Brightly
A sermon of hope and farewell

• Music for gathering
• Prelude
• Opening Words
• Opening Hymn #360 "Here We Have Gathered"
• The Lighting of the Chalice and a Uniting Statement
• Hymn #1 "Prayer for This House"
• Welcome and Announcements
• Offertory
• Sharing of Joys and Sorrows
• Meditation with Words, with Silence & With Music
• Reading 1 I Corinthians 13
• Hymn #34 "Though I May Speak With Bravest Fire"
• Reading 2 From Robert Fulghum
• Anthem/Special Music
• Sermon Through A Glass, Brightly Rev. Kerry Mueller
• Hymn #131 "Love Will Guide Us"
• Closing Words
• Postlude

The Lighting of the Chalice and a Uniting Statement

As we gather here for worship,
we pledge ourselves to the endless search for truth;
to the right of each to believe as mind, heart, and conscience dictate,
to accept the responsibility this freedom commands;
and to implement our belief
in the essential worth and dignity of every human being.

-- from the Preamble of our Constitution

Reading 1

Corinthians 13

At the World Parliament of Religions several years ago each of the groups attending was given three minutes to express basics of its faith to the whole group. I remember yet the representative of Christianity, Brother David, a Benedictine monk. He chose a passage from the heart of his own tradition to speak to the heart of every tradition. The scripture reading he shared conveyed the essence of the Christian faith -- without once mentioning Jesus, or even God. Such explicitly theistic terms, he said, would create barriers to Buddhists and other people of faith who are not God centered. Being human, he said, is not a private affair. Only in an all-embracing community of life can we be fully human. And so he shared his faith without imposing his doctrine. And although I am not a Christian, I was moved beyond words to hear him read:

I Corinthians 13 1-13

If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end. As for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to and end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to and end. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.

Reading 2

Robert Fulghum

Robert Fulghum -- you remember him, he's the Unitarian Universalist minister who wrote, "Everything I Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten -- in another book he tells a story about Alexander Papaderos, a philosopher who founded an institute devoted to healing the wounds of war. This instutute was built in Crete on the site of a WWII atrocity. At the end of one two week conference, Papaderos asked the group, "Are there any questions?" That's when Fulghum took his chance, with a question he asks frequently, although it usually meets with no satisfactory answer:

"Dr. Papderos, what is the meaning of life?"

The ususal laughter followed, and people stirred to go.

Papaderos held up his hand and stilled the room and looked at me for a long time, asking with his eyes if I was serious and seeing from my eyes that I was.

"I will answer your question."

Taking his wallet out of his hip pocket, he fished into a leather billfold and brought out a very small round mirror, about the size of a quarter.

And what he said went like this:

"When I was a small child, during the war, we were very poor and we lived in a remote village. One day, on the road, I found the broken pieces of a mirror. A German motorcycle had been wrecked in that place.

"I tried to find all the pieces and put them together, but it was not possible, so I kept only the largest piece. This one. And by scratching it on a stone Imade it round. I began to play with it as a boy and became fascinated by the fact that I could reflect light into dark places where the sun would never shine -- in deep holes and crevices and dark closets. It became a game for me to get light into the most inaccessible places I could find.

"I kept the little mirror, and as I went about my growing up, I would take it out in idle moments and continue the challenge of the game. As I became a man, I grew to understand that this was not just a child's game, but a metaphor for what I might do with my life. I came to undersand that I am not the light or the source of the light. But light -- truth, understanding, knowledge -- is there, and it will only shine in many dark places if I reflect it.

I am a fragment of a mirror whose whole design and shape I do not know. Nevertheless, with what I have I can reflect light into the dark places of this world -- into the black places and in the hearts of [people] -- and change some things in some people. Perhaps others may see and do likewise. This is what I am about. This is the meaning of my life."

And then he took his small mirror, and, holding it carefully, caught the bright rays of daylight streaming throught the window and reflected them onto my face and onto my hands folded on the desk.

-- It Was On Fire When I Lay Down on It, Robert Fulghum, Page 175 ff.

Sermon

Through a Glass, Brightly
A sermon of hope and farewell

Rev. Kerry Mueller

Imagine with me for a moment an anthill. Hundreds of busy ants, each apparently going its own way, without a hierarchy to direct them, yet somehow all the jobs get done, more or less right, more or less on time. Let us follow a small group of these ants. There they are, scurrying about on the forest floor, looking for something, they are not sure exactly what, only that it has to be just right. After much preliminary work, they spot a real prize. Tucked under some lovely green leaves is a patch of strawberries. At first the strawberries all look the same, but the search ants examine each carefully, and pick out the three or four best. They talk at length with each of these strawberries, and choose one, the one that will best suit the ants at home. The just right strawberry! They know they can't take this strawberry home all by themselves, so they dash back to the nest and call out their colleagues. The whole community comes to meet the strawberry, they all talk back and forth and have a wonderful time together. And then they carry the strawberry home in triumph, more or less in a straight line.

The metaphor breaks down here. This much searched for and acclaimed strawberry isn't anyone's lunch. I trust she'll be the profressional ordained leader of this community for a long itme to come. But when I was interviewed a year ago to be the interim minister of this church, Chris Lihou spoke of how hard it is for the ants to drag home a dead cockroach for dinner if each ant is running off in its own direction and not working toward the same goal. He suggested that the church needed to learn to pull together. I knew I couldn't make that happen unless the church wanted to, but I said that I saw my job as interim minister as holding up a mirror to the congregation itself. And that is what I have tried to do all year. "Here is what I see. Is this what you see? Do you like this? Would you like something else better? Do you want to keep that? How about strengthening this?" So this morning, let us look together in that mirror one last time. How have we done? Let's look through a glass, brightly.

Remember the five developmental tasks of interim minsitry? Here they come again. For those of you who are new, or who missed my constant reiteration of them, fear not. We'll go over them, one by one. Interim ministry is meant to be a time of transition, of reevaluation and preparation for the next phase in the life of the church. The interim minister's job is to poke and prod, to suggest change where change is called for, to reinforce good health where the congregation is doing well.

The first developmental task of interim ministry is coming to terms with history. Every church has a history. If the church is still a going concern after fifty years, as this one is, then they have to be doing something right. But for no church has it all been smooth sailing. Looking clear eyed and steadily at the history of the church is essential to your future health as a congregation. Probably the most important -- and most difficult -- thing I did all year was to help you look at your past. Early on in October I held a workshop called "Roots and Wings Part I." It would seem to be innocuous enough. We created a timeline, and had a little worship, to acknowledge regrets and speak a word of hope. But from the moment I brought up the subject there was resistance. "Oh, you can't get people out for anything other than a party." "Oh, we've had so many grim meetings in the last year; we want to forget all that." "Oh, you'll never get people out on a Saturday. You'll have to have it on a Sunday afternoon. Two hours, max. With child care, and lunch." "Oh, are you sure you want to pick at that scab?" Some people told me about how they had been so badly hurt by events in this church that they had almost left. And they weren't sure they wanted to bring any of it up again. Other people told me about those who had been so badly hurt that they have left, and were no longer here to present their point of view. But bravely or foolishly, or just blindly trusting my interim training, I pushed ahead. I read books. I consulted with colleagues who had done this sort of thing. I had taken a course during the summer called "Whole Systems Planning for Congregations." To write the paper and finish the course I had to conduct a large group intervention. So I persisted.

And you responded. I don't know if you were brave, or just being polite to the new interim. Miraculously, the lunch appeared, mainly at the hands of Becky Hedin, but I know there were others involved. The child care materialized. Neda taped the event, and Sandy edited the tapes. A whole group of people quickly set up the room. Most importantly, a significant number of people attended, and participated. We made the time line. We looked at the events, good and bad, that have shaped the life of this church. It hasn't been all smooth sailing.

You told me about being born in a stable, slowly building up the campus you see here today. You told me about ministers who helped you along the way. You told me about sometimes being disappointed in your ministers. You told me about the exploding window that might have killed someone, had it happened a few hours later. You showed me the deep scars left by the glass. You told me about how you nearly tore yourselves apart over the color of the carpet in the community room. Is that why you have let that carpet stay there so long past its prime? Are you reluctant to fight that fight again by getting a new one? You told me about your work in social justice. You told me about the struggles to get this beautiful sanctuary built. I have to tell you that my daughter came here for the Christmas eve service, and she said it is the most beautiful church she has ever seen. You told me about the wild days of the 60's and 70's, about snowball fights. You told me that rather than fire one minister, you just zeroed out the budget for his salary. You told me that some of you still bear scars from the time a conflict with a minister that was left unresolved and simply shoved into the closet to fester.

I heard all of this, and wrote it down. The original time line is rolled up on a shelf in Liz's office, waiting for her. I also have it on disk, along with a report of the whole event for her. I read between the lines, and I have had further conversations, and I've learned a lot about this church. I've learned that at your best, you work together and talk things out and carry the strawberry home in triumph. I've learned that at your worst, you sabotage yourselves by trying to keep the lid on conflict, by not talking openly about it and by letting a few people act in private. I've learned that like most churches, you do some things well and other things not so well. I've learned that you have the potential to be a great church, a shining example of Unitarian Universalism in the Washington area, a leader in social justice and care for one another. So remember your history -- all of it, the good and the bad.

The second developmental task of interim ministry is developing a new identity. When I first came here, I saw a lot of determined good cheer. You had been through a hard time in the last few years, in conflict with your previous minister and with each other over that conflict. Some of you were unhappy over the minister, and some because he had left, and some over the way he had departed. Some members had left and others were uncertain. The board had done a great job last year of figuring out how to keep things going, to take over all the jobs that needed to be done. You had consolidated your energies into one Sunday service, and that was going well. But under the surface, was a lot of anxiety. Would the canvass succeed? Would the search for a new minister succeed? Would there be any more defections? This year together, we have allayed a great deal of that anxiety. I don't have any great public event to point to. Somehow, "Roots and Wings, Part II" fell through the cracks. Between my search process and yours, the time slipped away. But I have sensed a new spirit here, and many of you have told me that you do, too. The canvass was successful, for the first time in years. I had pushed for a more ambitious goal, but you met your own goal and reduced your own anxiety about resources. Membership has reached its low point and should begin to climb again. And your search for a new minister has been a resounding success.

You have a lot more identity work yet to do. Somehow, sometime soon, you need to do the work that the "Wings: Part II" workshop was meant to do. You need to see how you are when you are at your best, how you treat each other then, and how you relate to your minister and the outside world. You need to agree on how to be with each other, so that the next time conflict arises -- and I promise you, there will be conflict -- you can deal with it straightforwardly. Instead of being a church with a problem to fix, you will be a church with resources to use to make the world a better place. Here's the secret: trust. Trust each other, and trust Liz. Trust the democratic process. The magic of the October workshop was not the timeline itself. The magic was in the process. You talked about things that had lain secret and festering for years. You trusted me to keep the process safe. You trusted me to make sure that you would be civil to one another and to listen respectfully and with care to different points of view. The roof did not fall in. You came out stronger. Trust one another.

The third developmental task of interim ministry is facilitating new leadership. This is an ongoing challenge for every congregation. Recently in Catonsville, the Moose Lodge lost its lease. Letters to the editor poured in. How wonderful the Moose years had been, how great were the parties and the charitable work. But it was always the same few people doing all the work, feeling beleaguered and overwhelmed, and why wouldn't anyone help them? Or, from another point of view, the in-crowd seems to hold onto all the power, and won't let anyone else in. Why won't they let go? Sound familiar?

You do have regular elections here, the board changes a little each year. Your elected leadership has done a splendid job these last two years of getting you through crisis and beyond. But the challenge will always be there. Keep the real power in the open where you can see it democratically. Bring in the new people. Let them have positions of real power. They will not always do things the way they have been done for years. Sometimes they will make mistakes. Sometimes they will make breakthroughs. Trust them. But don't shove them into top leadership slots without a chance to get to know their way around. Go to whatever trainings the district provides. How have we failed to choose people to go to leadership school this year? Subsidy money is available. Help with child care if that is what is needed. You have plenty of talent here, amazing talent of all sorts. Structure the jobs so people can begin with an entry level position, and try it out with the help of a mentor. People who have been doing the hard work for years deserve a chance to do something more spiritually nourishing for them. Help them make the change from "Martha work" to "Mary work." Help the old guard to step off center stage. There are plenty of elder statesperson roles available -- mentoring, teaching, writing history.

How have we done this year? It's hard for me to quantify. I do see new and younger people taking responsibility. Keep it up. There are more where those came from. Help your leaders to keep the big picture in mind. Everything you do here is ministry. You are not about having a successful bake sale. You are about having healthy relationships with each other and about blessing the world. If you keep those goals before you, the bake sale will just fall into place.

The fourth developmental task of interim ministry is renewing denominational ties. Congregations in transition often feel estranged from their denominations. They feel let down, or they have not been connected for years. But your search committee knows up close how helpful the denomination has been, even with the limited resources they have. This is not the church of Silver Springism. This is the Unitarian Universalist Church of Silver Spring. You are connected to thousands of people across the continent. And this year you have honored that connection. Your current budget takes steps towards paying your district and denominational dues. The next church in search will benefit from that. And you will benefit directly when you have your "start up" weekend with Liz, provided by the district. This year you hosted a regional kickoff reception for the UU Social Justice Ministry. Here is an opportunity for you to make a difference in the lives of people in this area, and to make Unitarian Universalism more visible. Your young people are holding a conference here this very weekend. And early in the year you provided a dinner for the participants in the installation of your neighbors at Paint Branch, Jaco ten Hove and Barbara Wells. The Paint Branchers look forward to returning your hospitality next year when you install Liz.

And one of the best things -- and the easiest -- I did all year here was to lead the Evensong group. The curriculum, with all the details in place, from invitational letter to orders of service to evaluation forms, was written by a UU minister and came to us through the denomination. In Evensong, a group of us strengthened and deepened our spirituality, coming to know ourselves and each other in a new and very nourishing way. Members of the group are preparing to widen the Evensong circle, so that more of you, with Liz if she chooses, can experience the tears and laughter, the joy and gratitude of being in touch with your own deepest selves. Denominational connection comes in many forms.

Finally, the fifth developmenal task of interim ministry is to prepare for new directions in ministry. The question before you is, "What have we learned that will help us begin our relationship with Liz on a new basis?" You have done much of this work. Our Unitarian Universalist process builds in the events and understandings recommended by experts. The search process itself, with its survey and packet creation, helped you to prepare. Candidating week gave you a chance to participate intimately in the process. I know that many of you worked very hard to have a good candidating week, so you and Liz could get to know each other and make the commitment to a mininstry together. You even toured the garden with her, and discussed decor for her office. I have left her a packet of pastoral resources in the area. And I have seen and heard and felt your excitment and pleasure at the prospect of welcoming Liz as your new minister. In the fall you will have a "start-up" weekend to clarify your expectations of one another, and to work towards a covenant to express your relationship with one another. And eventually you will install Liz, not a mere ceremony, but the living document of your commitment to one another and a new sense of mission and ministry.

I have a request from you and a word of advice. We have done much good work together this year. But I know that it has not all been as I would have wished. I am certain some of you have concerns, about my ministry here or about events in the congregation. Please bring these concerns to me. Let us come to terms directly with each other. Don't stuff them into closets hoping they'll go away. I will go away, but your concerns will stay. Don't dump them in Liz's lap. Don't let them fester. You have seen where that leads.

Actually, I have seen an important commitment to hope in your very architecture here. When you built this sanctuary, you had the opportunity to build a structure that every church seems to have, in one form or another. I envision it as a booth like a bus stop, a shelter with benches, built in the parking lot, for those late night parking lot meetings, where people complain and mutter about the minister, and never deal with the issues directly. You did not build this parking lot meeting room physically. Good. When you are tempted to put it up metaphorically, stop for a moment. Take your concerns directly to the person you are concerned about. Use "I statements" -- I feel, I experience, I hope. Be constructive. Act from the trust in the relationship you have created and committed yourselves to. Your next ministry will not be perfect. But you can make it healthy and happy, good for you and a blessing for the world.

Next week we will take do a crucial task for interim ministry -- saying goodbye to each other. What a year it has been! How much I have learned from you. How much we have done together. You have touched my heart. It will be hard to leave. But we are both ready for the next stage of our lives, and ready for new directions in ministry.

Oh, and have you been wondering about how all this "institutional" talk relates to the readings? Five tasks, analysis of the church, a zillion examples. It all boils down to two words, the same words I used when I preached about being an artist, or about spirituality. It is all the same endeavor, after all, art and spirituality and making a healthy and happy religious community: pay attention, and take risks. Shine the light in the dark places, look fearlessly at every sort of reality. Look in the mirror, and love one another. Look in the mirror and trust Liz. Through a glass, brightly. Look fearlessly, and with good cheer, with hope and confidence. All shall be well. And all manner of things shall be well.

And so, as we prepare to sing our last hymn, about love, I will ask the ushers to pass among you with baskets. Not to take another collection, but to give you a little reminder, a little quarter sized mirror for each of you, to carry and to remember. These mirrors have already been made round for you. You will not need to spend hours scratching them against a stone to smooth them. They are round, not jagged. They are meant to see yourselves in, to shine the light of a greater reality into the dark places. They are not meant to wound, but to help you live out your love. Love and light. I hope it will be my legacy to you. Amen, shalom, and blessed be.