ON THE OTHER HAND…

April 30, 2006

 

Deciding to leave my home of 14 years in Jackson, Mississippi for the unsure future of theological education was not an easy task.  Before his death, my husband and I planned to make the journey together.  Now, he was gone, there was far less financial security, and my friends and faith community were in Jackson. 

 

I spent a year making the initial decision.  I talked with ministers, friends and lay leaders in the Mid-South.  I searched my heart and mind.  I talked with Spencer Lavan, dean of Meadville/Lombard, who encouraged me to come to Chicago.  I requested an application, rolled it into my electric typewriter and started filling it out.  And then I got stuck.  I left that application sitting in the typewriter for two months because “I just didn’t have time” to fill it out.

 

One Sunday near Thanksgiving I was scheduled to provide the Sunday Service at the Jackson church.  I planned a “giving thanks” ritual, which included sharing some homemade bread and apple cider.  I baked the bread, a good solid loaf, wrote my remarks, and came to church for the forum that preceded the service. 

 

Immediately after the forum I dashed to the kitchen to prepare my materials.  I took out the bread and a very sharp serrated knife with which to slice it.  It was nutritious bread, filled with dried fruit and grains, chewy, and difficult to slice.  On about the third slice I caught the tip of my finger, and sliced off about ˝ inch.  It dangled by the merest smidgen of skin that I held tight with my thumb as I dashed to the sink, and turned on the cold water.  “Well,” I thought, “I had to cut myself off out of here, somehow!”

 

I received three stitches that morning, and returned home that afternoon and typed my application to theological school.  Two months later I was in Chicago, beginning a new life. 

 

Decision-making is very difficult.  I knew that this change was the next step I must take in my life.  On the Other Hand, staying in Jackson among friends would have been comfortable and easy.  Today we explore some aspects of making decisions.

 

 

If it is difficult for one person to make a major decision, it is far more complicated for a group of people to do so.  Each person brings his or her own ideas, values and past experiences to bear on the decision-making process.  Every participant carries their own injuries from past bumps and bruises, and sometimes, broken bones!  And these injuries affect their values and preferences.  Asking a group of people—even those who love and care for each other—to decide together about their future is like asking cats to charge together to chase off a snarling dog!  It’s a good idea, but hard to implement.

 

And yet that is what we are doing.  We are asking this congregation to decide together on the future of this institution.  We are asking individuals, with their separate needs and wants, to plan for the best possible future for this faith community.  Some reflections on shared decision-making seem appropriate.

 

The first thing to acknowledge is that decisions often result in change—and change is very difficult.  That is because, as my late husband once observed, “The thing about change is—things just aren’t the same afterward!”  And, if you are fairly comfortable with things as they are, why take a chance on something different?  Why go through the trauma of deciding to change, when there is no guarantee that things will be significantly better?  And life, as we know, has no guarantees.

 

The truth is, change happens whether we plan for it, accept it as it comes, or try to ignore the fact that it is imminent.  In today’s society, it happens far too fast for many of us to be comfortable with it.  We are creatures that evolved over long centuries, when significant change was incremental. 

 

Sometimes war swept over the land on which our ancestors lived, and change was brutal and swift.  Sometimes a ruler brought change quickly.  But for the most part, change happened, but it happened slowly.  Our foreparents often had an opportunity to get used to a new idea before they were faced with its consequences.

 

Now change is rapid.  The electric typewriter upon which I typed my application accompanied me to theological school.  However, by the time that school year was completed, I changed it for a small Mac.  After I came here, Marv, our I. T. guru, changed the minister’s computer several times, in an effort to keep our technology reasonably up to date.

 

Technology is only the beginning of the rapid changes with which we must cope.  Viruses evolve quickly into challenges that threaten pandemics.  In the eleven years I have been here, the landscape of downtown Muskegon has changed radically.  The economic situation seems in constant flux, and challenges our ability to adequately support our families.  Even the weather is changing, and changing far more quickly than computer models predicted even a few years ago. 

 

No wonder we look for places of stability.  No wonder the idea of changing another aspect of our lives is so challenging!  In a world of constant flux, we look to our faith community for peace and stability. 

 

Its members are constants in our lives, even though we may disagree with some of them.  We learn to depend on them. And then, by golly, some of them have the temerity to move away, or even worse, die! 

 

We want to put on the brakes, screech to a halt, crawl in a hole, and refuse to engage in planning for the continued growth, health and expansion of our congregation if it is going to ask us to make one more change. 

 

On the other hand, change can also lead to improvements.  Change can support and expand programs of outreach.  Change can bring new and interesting people into our congregation.  Change can result in more space for our activities.  Change can make our congregation more welcoming.  Change can be your friend. 

 

Decision making often calls upon us to change, which is problematic, but can be positive in the long view.  It also calls upon us to trust our faith companions.  It would be foolish to expect that all of us will agree that a particular path would be the very best one to take.  However, we can agree that we assume that each person will make his or her decision with the good of the entire congregation in mind.  We can assume good intentions on the part of our faith companions. 

 

As we approach these decisions, some people may get excited and make radical statements.  Some may be afraid, some may reach too far in your eyes, some may say, “I like this place the way it is—no changes at all.”  This is a decision that evokes deep emotions.  Give your friends an opportunity to express them, even if you disagree. 

 

Remember to listen deeply, to really hear the concerns and feelings of all our people, and to affirm that you have heard them.  Assume their good intentions.  Then call yourself and others back to the wider view, that is, that we are all called to make the decision based on what is good for the entire congregation.

 

When we take this attitude, we will trust our faith companions to accompany us on this process.  We can not assume they will decide in the same way we wish them to, but we can assume that they will decide with the good of our faith community in their hearts and minds.

 

To think about the good of our faith community, we need to think bigger than just our own small group.  We need to think of all of our members and friends.  We need to think of all age groups, from nursery through youth group, through young adults, parents, empty-nesters and elders. 

 

We need to think of all of the wonderful programs, from religious education, both children and adults, through the choir, and including our outreach programs.  And we need to think of all of those who are not yet here. 

 

Recently I was chatting with a first time visitor when she glanced across the room, and exclaimed—“There’s my neighbor.  I didn’t know she attended here!”  The person she saw was one of our newest members.  Both are now becoming integrated into our community.

 

How do we know that our neighbor is not yearning for a liberal religious community?  Do we assume that everyone in our workplace attends a conventional church, and is happy there?  What about those people who move here from another area, and are looking for a loving faith community with an excellent religious education department, great music and liberal theology?  When we plan for our faith community, we need to think of the people who need and want a sustaining, saving, supporting congregation just like ours. 

 

Because we are a congregation of gathered individuals, we will not always agree on issues.  Let us remember the words of one of our great Unitarian ministers, Theodore Parker. “We need not think alike to love alike.”

 

And the words of another great minister, The Reverend Richard Gilbert, “Be gentle with one another.  … Handle with care!  Handle with exceedingly tender care…Life is too transient to be cruel with one another/ it is too short for thoughtlessness, /Too brief for hurting.”

 

These people here are your friends and faith companions.  We share many of the same values, but some will inevitably be different. 

 

Some of us are feeling really cramped.  The programs with which we are involved need more space.  On the other hand, some of us value aesthetics very highly, and really treasure the beautiful space we inhabit. 

 

Some of us want to make our congregation more welcoming by increasing its accessibility.  We want better sound equipment, all floors accessible, and better bathrooms.  On the other hand, some are more frugal, and want to preserve our treasure and build up our income. 

 

Some of us want to hire an administrative assistant, to relieve busy volunteer and professional staff of paper work.  On the other hand, some of us think that person’s salary would be better spent on other projects. 

 

Some of us want to expend our energy raising money to support the programs of our congregation.  On the other hand, some of us want to expend our energy in social action projects.

 

None of these preferences are wrong.  No one is bad for preferring to enact our values in one way rather than another.  No one is awful because they do not immediately leap to our way of thinking.  No one is immoral because they wish to enact one program, but not the one you are most excited about.  Rather, we need to listen to each other respectfully, assume good intentions and work our way through to an agreement.

 

This congregation knows how to do loving decision-making.  A few years ago, some of you decided it was time to change the name of the church.  You devised a process, winnowed through some interesting possibilities, chose one that inspired a lot of positive connotations, and asked our congregation to approve it at our annual meeting. 

 

As a result we are now the Harbor Unitarian Universalist Congregation. 

It wasn’t the first choice for everyone, but most of us really liked it.  Someone developed a logo, the lighthouse, which we now use on our publications.  Now, all seem happy with our name. 

 

We have experience with making decisions.  We can make the decisions we need to make with love and grace.  We need to remember that while we may differ on some things, we are all members of this loving faith community.  We need to listen to all who bring wants, hopes and needs, concerns and fears to our discussions.  We need to remember that we are making this decision for the good of the whole church, all those present and all who will come. 

 

We do this for the future of our people, and the people not yet here.  We do this for the future of this congregation, a loving faith community, diverse in many ways, but united around the value of a liberal faith tradition.  We do this for the future of liberal religion in West Michigan.  We do this because our faith offers a way of living and loving that is inclusive, diverse and saving.

 

Let us go forth, debate and discuss, and gather on May 21st to decide our future together with love and caring.

 

Shalom and Saalat.

Blessed Be and Amen.