Part I

This is the time of many transitions. Today is the day when we ceremonially transition from this sanctuary to downstairs, for the beginning of the summer worship.

This is a time of beginnings as I return from sabbatical, and begin again as your minister.

This is a time of endings, as Kristina Spaude ends her formal time with us as our ministerial intern and as sabbatical minister.

It is also a time of transition for Kristina, as she has offered to continue to work with us on a more casual basis, as we go deeper into our Church’s history, for our 125th anniversary next year.

Additionally, Kristina is in a life transition as she begins a year-long chaplain residency at the Cleveland VA hospital in the fall.

Our theme this month is simplicity, and I want to talk of an experience with simplicity, one I recently had with my brother. I visited my brother down in Rincon, on the western coast of Puerto Rico, spending several weeks with him during my sabbatical.

While my brother is not living a life as simple as the couple in the reading, he is living a life much simpler than mine, and for that matter, much simpler than his own life once was. He lives in a one bedroom apartment a block from the beach in Rincon.   My time with him was a lesson in simplicity.

At night, I slept on a futon in the main room. With windows open, I could hear so many creatures, coquis, those little peeping frogs, crickets, horses neighing next door, plus some kind of insect that made a primal breathing sound — I never did learn what that was. The birds would wake me in the morning, and I’d make a tiny pot of the strong Puerto Rican coffee that most of us would call espresso.

As my brother has no dining table, we took our breakfast outside on the porch, plates on our laps, using a cardboard box for our buffet table. Then we’d do yoga, either on the porch, or join a class that met at the Balneario, the town beach.

We’d shop for fruit and vegetables at farm stands, or at the local farmers market. I figured I could adapt to my brother’s vegan, gluten-free eating practices for a time. Actually I corrupted him, getting him to eat fish at least some of the time, because the locally caught pescado is so good.

In the rhythm of those days, I easily found time for thinking and writing, sometimes taking my books and laptop down to the beach for a change of scene.

Now, I’d like to say that we were free of email, and texting, and TV, but we weren’t that virtuous. But I will say that those things stood out; doing them felt out of place. So we just did less of them. Really, we did less of everything. Less doing, more being.

In our reading, Patricia Adams Farmer[1], with her years in Ecuador, tells us that by simplifying her life,

“I have inner knowledge now, precious knowledge, for I have seen the Valley of Love and Delight, and it is real, and it is good.  And it all has to do with the sky and the trees and the feeling you get when you pay attention to them.” 

Even my limited time in that modestly simpler lifestyle gave me hints at such a perspective, and I yearn to experience more.

I realize that living simply requires great courage, for one must buck the American materialist system, with all its commercial tendrils groping us. Now I note also that there is — paradoxically — a degree of privilege in choosing to live simply, for it means one has a degree of control over one’s life and situation. After all, not many of us can just uproot and decamp to Ecuador or even Puerto Rico, for that matter. But there may be other ways we can simplify. We can  more thoughtfully choose what material things we bring into our lives. We can cut back on the electronic chatter banging at our eyes and ears. We can reevaluate those relationships and connections that complicate our lives and fail to bring us joy. In short, we can thoughtfully and consciously let go of things that don’t help us be the people we want to be.

Farmer concludes,

“…  Simplifying is not so much about doing without, but about finding riches in other places, deep places, wide-open places—places where we can hear God breathing.”

I hope this can be true for all of us — that by simplifying, we find those other places, the uncluttered places, the quiet places, where we can hear that still, small voice within us, and actually make out the words.

Part II

Kristina has been with us for two years, as our Ministerial Intern, learning the ways of professional Unitarian Universalist ministry by serving our congregation. This is a first, for Kristina has been the first intern UUYO has hosted in our long history. We have rejoiced in having Kristina with us, bringing her energy and passion, and I am grateful for this.

Kristina has learned much by being with us. She has learned, for example, that preparing and delivering a sermon for a congregation you serve, for people that you have a special and ongoing relationship with, is different than preaching to a congregation you visit just once. She has learned the delicate balance of being a moral leader on topics like racial justice or LGBTQ rights, of being out front in the march for change, but not so far out front that others cannot catch up.

She has learned that the pastoral relationship as minister is different than the pastoral relationship as a hospital chaplain. She has been with many of us through milestones in our lives, in beginnings, endings and transitions, child dedications, memorial services.

But I want to talk briefly about the hardest thing to learn in this work, the thing that cannot really be taught, for it is hard to even put into words. We do give it a name: we call it “ministerial presence”. What is that quality of character that invites people to say, “yes, this person is a minister, this person is my minister?” This is ministerial presence.

Now, ministerial presence is hard to pin down. It’s related to, often confused with, but not the same as, ministerial authority.

We UU’s often have trouble with ministerial authority, and for good reason. We have seen so many examples of ministers abusing their authority. We have seen religious leaders in other traditions misusing their authority to spread messages of hate and division. We have seen ministers abusing their authority for their own selfish ends, for sex, money, influence, often destroying lives and damaging congregations for decades to to come.

For UUs, ministerial authority does not come by virtue of a position, a title, or even from God. You do not assume authority by putting on a stole or a robe or a name tag. For us, authority comes through ministerial presence. Are we, as ministers, seen as people with the good qualities, people who do this work thoughtfully, humbly, without hidden agendas or ego motives?

And so it comes back to that ineffable, mysterious ministerial presence thing. Kristina, you’ve grown in ministerial presence in your time with us.

Where does this presence come from? Some might say it comes from outside us, from God far away, or from scripture, or from the teachers and sages around us.  But I think these are only partial sources.

I am convinced that this sense of ministerial presence starts from within. It starts with having the time and the space to be alone with yourself. It starts with having the courage to look in your own eyes, as in a mirror, to look into those windows of your soul, to see who or what is authentically there. It comes in being willing to face whatever you find there, good or bad, joyful or difficult.

As poet, Kim Moore[2] said,

And the soul, if she is to know herself
must look into the soul and find
what kind of beast is hiding.

Kristina, you have done admirable work in such soul-searching, such self-examination. It is not easy work! You have begun to uncover qualities about yourself, the beasts that reside in your heart, and you have begun to give them what they call out for. And most importantly, you have come to be able to share this soul work with us. You have become vulnerable with us, invited us to open our own eyes and look into your eyes, to see, as in a mirror, what soul is there.

Recognition and Thanks for Kristina Spaude

(invite Kristina up)

At the farmers market in Rincon, Puerto Rico, my brother introduced me to one of his friends, Enid, an artist who works in glass. She had one piece, which caused me to immediately think of you. 

I invite you to place this face on your personal altar, or hang it by the door where you go out to do ministry. I invite you to look into this glass face, its eyes, as a reminder to continue to look inward, into your soul, your psyche, your subconscious self, as you continue in your ministry. Look within – what is the flame that burns within that fires your ministry? For only in more fully knowing yourself will you authentically and honestly be a healing ministerial presence for others.

Look into your soul, and you know what to do:

if it be a wolf,
throw back your head
and let it howl.

let it howl.

On behalf of this congregation, I thank you, Kristina.

Notes:

1 “Postcard from Ecuador” by Patricia Adams Farmer

2 “And The Soul” by Kim Moore