Where DO we come from?

[This is a cross-post of a comment I left on David G. Markahm's CHALICEFIRE site.] I've been enjoying his morning meditations more and more as I've shared them during my own morning circuit through the internet. Today's was especially comforting and familiar, especially since it resonates so well with Gauguin's "D'où venons nous? Que sommes-nous? Où allons-nous?" (and the round in our hymnal inspired by it, which has been running through my head now since last Saturday's retreat).

I've always felt inspired by Carl Sagan's insight in the last episode/chapter of Cosmos that we are the part of the Universe that is becoming conscious of itself. Or Annie Dillard's observation (also in the hymnal) that we are here so that Creation need not play to an empty house. So even if our birth is nothing more than beating very long odds in a cosmic lottery, our "purpose" is defined for us right from the start -- to MAKE that meaning, (or at least to find some) and thus contribute to the self-awareness of the Universe as a whole.

As to where we go, I can tell you with some certainty where the carbon, oxygen, hydrogen and nitrogen that make up most of my physical body will go -- right back into the dust from which it came. As for the rest of "me" (however one chooses to define that) will continue to linger around for a time in the legacy I leave for others -- the good I've done, those I've loved, whatever insights I may have had and shared along the way. And it's enough. More than enough, when you stop to be grateful for just how lucky we all are to get here in the first place....

An Hour a Week & a room full of books....

I'm laughing a little at myself about this past week, 'cause this "quarter-time" light duty is gonna be the death of me! I don't know that I ever really believed it, but I think on some level I WANTED to believe that old, naive stereotype that preachers really only had to work "an hour a week" (Sunday Mornings), and the rest of our time was ours to spend as we wished: visiting the members of our congregation ("our people," as our 19th century forebearers called them -- and generally some of the most interesting people on the planet at that); or working in the community for justice and reform (one can ALWAYS find something to engage one's passions there); or (my personal favorite) cloistered away in one's extensive private library studying the Scriptures and engaged in the contemplative intellectual discipleship for which the Unitarian ministry in particular has historically been so well known.

And now all of a sudden I have this opportunity -- the means and the motive as well -- and for some inexplicable just can't seem to pull the trigger. The books are just sitting there waiting for me. My insurance company is paying my salary; I have two fantastic colleagues on a "Ministerial Support Team" poised to take over all of that "day to day" mundane ministerial administrivia (as well as the more important Pastoral Care and Counseling duties), and yet I can't seem to keep myself from sticking my nose into things - Tuesday staff meeting, Wednesday Men's Luncheon, Thursday Trustees meeting, a day-long leadership retreat Saturday. And honestly now? Which of those things could I really afford to "blow off?" Truth be told, there is really no such thing as a part-time ministry, much less a part-time MInister. I am what I am wherever I go, and I don't stop "being" the minister simply because I can't "do" as much as I'm accustomed to doing (much less all that needs to be done - which quite frankly none of us could ever hope to do anyway).

I suspect that "old school" clergy (who essentially "grew up" in the profession) have always known and understood this in ways that subsequent generations of "mature," second-career seminarians will never fully or truly understand. But maybe that's not fair either. The whole world has changed, and a changing ministry only reflects those changes. In the rubric of the global information economy, clergy are characterized as "content providers" first, while the esoteric duties of serving as the spiritual leaders of faith communities simply don't fit easily into the more fungible "middle management" job classifications employment economists are comfortable with. If "ministry" were merely institutional administration, then any middle-aged middle-manager could easily step into the job without missing a step or skipping a beat. But in many ways, my present illness represents an opportunity for me to explore the exact opposite tack. How much of that other can be stripped away in order to allow me the liberty of pursuing the most important element of ministry of all: following the pathway that will lead me closer to God, and leading others along that same path as well, in ways that are honest and authentic and faithful and true?

Well, that's enough of that for now. My duties last Sunday were limited to welcoming folks to church and leading the Moment for All Ages. Not entirely light duty, but not exactly heavy lifting either....

Six Long Months

...but who's counting? It had been six long months since I last climbed the stairs into the high pulpit at First Parish and preached on Easter Sunday, March 23rd 2008. And there have been times when I have worried that maybe that was it...that I had actually preached the final sermon of my career, and would never feel healthy enough to return to the pulpit again.

Of course, it's not as if I haven't been to church since then many times. I was formally installed here last Mother's Day (as well has helping to dedicate a child at the regular morning service that same day): have prayed and participated in the candlesharing several times (not to mention taking up the offering!) over the summer: and even delivered a brief homily from the lectern a week ago as part of our Ingathering Water Ceremony.

But this past Sunday I finally had the opportunity to conduct the entire service from Invocation to Benediction, with a little gracious assistance from members of both the lay and ministerial support teams that have rallied together around me during this time. And yes, with my arm around his shoulder and his arm around my back, I was able to climb the five stairs into the high pulpit with the assistance of a choir member, and delivered this message on "Progress, Not Perfection" which I think came off pretty well. Sat on a barstool to do the actual preaching, which worked out very nicely (even if I did have to borrow one, since the stool I ordered on-line a month ago STILL hasn't arrived) and gave me a much fuller voice than I have when speaking from my wheelchair. Biggest surprise came when I went to put on my clean white shirt, and discovered that my neck size had grown FOUR INCHES over the summer! (I'm blaming it on the steroids...)

Shook about a million hands too -- at the front door as people were arriving, at the side door as people exited the Meetinghouse for the Parish House (and coffee hour), and of course before and after every time I spoke to someone individually as well. When cold and flu season arrive, I will feel like a potential germ vector of epidemic order; although, ironically, it was the desire to receive my first ever flu-shot, and the need for me to find a new Primary Care Physician here in Portland, that lead to my original diagnosis in the first place.

And then finally, Monday, an honest-to-God day off. Used it mostly to run errands with my Dad (including shopping for a new white Oxford button-down dress shirt), but it was worth it...and I'm sure I'll get better at taking time off as time goes by. For most of my career I've been pretty "Old School" about these things -- never really scheduled a regular day off (because, after all, when do I stop "being" a minister?), and was almost always in the office Mondays just because it is such an important day for catching up and getting launched for the week to come. And likewise, no matter how early in the week I try to get started, I've always been a Saturday evening (morning, noon...) writer as well -- who would ever DREAM of inviting guests to their home for a special Sunday Dinner and serving them a warmed-over meal you'd prepared last Thursday?

But this year I'm finally going to figure out both those "issues" a little better. Especially if I can take this business about "light duty" to heart, and keep it down to one day in the office, a couple of afternoons in my private study at the Eastland, and only preaching every other Sunday. The meetings and phone calls and e-mails will always be with me, I think, but this might also be a good time to get disciplined about actually writing those all-important paper thank you notes which so easily disappear in the static of our wired society. And attending to some of those other "higher order" disciplines which drew me to this vocation in the first place, and which feed the soul in the same way that healthy food feeds the body.

And then finally, Monday night I met up at Bingas with a parishioner of mine, her husband, and her departing-tomorrow-for-college son for my now-habitual Trivia Night. Janet had been bedeviling me about this all summer long, and last night we were finally able to make all of our schedules work. Won't try to repeat the blow-by-blow details here...played under the name "Aboriginal Kegheads" (in honor of Dartmouth College, the destination of the college-bound son), and let's just say that we ate a lot of things we probably shouldn't have (and enjoyed them tremendously); beat our closest competitors by 30 points; and there's talk of limiting the number of UUs who can play on the same team, just to make it fair for all the others. OK, not really...I mean, other than around our little table. Still, it always feels good to feel like a winner, and to be able to share that experience with others. Even if it is something as "trivial" as recognizing the 19th century Manhattan street address of Brooks Brothers....

This Just In

Just a quick interruption in the middle of my own sermon preparation to point folks to this article in today's Portland Press Herald about my "return" to the pulpit tomorrow.

By last week's "dry run" I assume he means that I had two other ministers and four lay readers to assist me in that service, and only preached a brief homily from the lectern in advance of our Annual Ingathering Water Ceremony.

But tomorrow I'm planning to take the entire service from soup to nuts...the initial ingathering liturgy, the children's story and adult candlesharing, plus the preaching itself (from the high pulpit, if I can manage it!) and the concluding benediction.

My topic is "Progress, Not Perfection."

If you're here in town, I'd love to see you in church!

And if you can't make it to church, you can always read it on-line at my sermon blog: The Eclectic Cleric FPC.

9/11 +7

***
Lest We Forget....a cross-post from my other blog, The Eclectic Cleric, linking to sermons I preached on Nantucket seven years ago.

"A Mind-Numbing Act of Senseless Violence"

a sermon preached by the Rev. Dr. Tim W. Jensen
at the Second Congregational Meeting House
on Nantucket Island, Sunday September 16, 2001

If you found this engaging, I continued in this same theme for the remainder of the month of September.

September 23, 2001
September 30, 2001

A Tale of Two Writers

Or their writing retreats, really. Why is it that someone like Henry David Thoreau, notorious vegetarian and tea-totaler, should die of tuberculosis at the age of 44 (after a lingering three-year struggle with bronchitis), while Mark Twain, who it seems is NEVER seen without a cigar, and who lived by the motto "too much of anything is bad, but too much of a good whiskey is barely enough" should survive into his 70's only to be struck down by a heart attack the day after the perigee of Halley's Comet, a phenomenon that had also accompanied his birth 75 years earlier?

Don't have an answer for that one. I do know that Thoreau tried to live simply all his life, that he lived for his work, and that despite his famous assertion (in response to the question of whether he had made his peace with God) "I did not know we had ever quarreled," never really felt that his writing had received the recognition and praise it truly deserved. Twain, on the other hand, lived his life on the see-saw of "get-rich-quick" and impending bankruptcy, and that this often influenced the quality of his writing, and not for the better.

And I'm also fascinated by the places where they did their BEST work: Walden for Thoreau; Huckleberry Finn for Twain. The reconstructed cabin at Walden Pond is located adjacent to the Visitors Center near the parking lot, but you can (and should) also visit the site of the original cabin, and place a stone on the cairn there. Twain's "Writing Hut" is the original structure, but has been relocated to the campus of Elmira College in New York from its original site at Twain's nearby home at Quarry Farm, now used by the college as a retreat center for visiting Twain Scholars. Just looking at these photos inspires me to pick up my pencil and write. And I am SO looking forward to the not-too-distant day when I am back regularly in MY "writing study" at the Eastland Park Hotel...pictures (maybe) to follow....

Thoreau's Cabin (reconstruction at Walden Pond)

Thoreau's Desk


Thoreau's Bed


Mark Twain's "Writing Hut" (now on the campus of Elmira College)

Twain's Writing Hut (rear view)

Twain's Writing Hut in its original location.


The Author at his Work

Ingathering Sunday

***

So this was the day I've been waiting for and working toward all Summer -- the first Sunday after Labor Day, and the official start of a new Church Program year. Lots of energy and excitement, and a pretty full house too, although I didn't get an actual count from the ushers before I left. So I guess I'll just have to wait to see it Tuesday. Lots of new faces too, especially among the twenty-something crowd. Plus the annual "return of the stalwarts," who in traditional UU fashion take the summer off to renew their spirits in other ways.

Like many UU churches, First Parish celebrates its Ingathering with a Water Ceremony, during which members of the congregation line up to contribute water which they have brought home with them from the various places they have traveled to over the summer, pouring it into a common vessel to symbolize the combination of our diverse talents and experiences in a single community.

We've tried to steer the ceremony away from your basic "show and tell" to more of a brief "check-in" that is somewhat less intimidating than our usual candlesharing, and it seems to be working. Like a lot of "unique" UU rituals, when it is good it is very, very good; and when it is bad it is horrible. I try to keep it simple while still keeping it authentic, and that seems to work pretty well.

There were also a few opening day glitches which probably went unnoticed but just about everyone but me, but which still required a little scrambling around to get straightened out. Like not having a pilot candle from which to light our chalice, and some confusion over the announcements...the sort of thing we'll have running like clockwork in another two or three weeks.

And let's face it, this was a fairly complicated service, despite its intended simplicity -- two other clergy (who will be working with me part time throughout this year as I figure out just how much "light duty" I can really handle), plus four lay readers, the full choir, and our "ad hoc pick-up Summer Ensemble & Chorale" (shortened today to simply "The First Parish Summer Ensemble") to sing the benediction response. They were one of the many high points of this year's summer services (where we enjoyed nearly double the average attendance over last summer's services), and I was very pleased to be able to show them off for the 9 & 1/2 month congregation today.

The actual preaching was still a little rough as well -- very emotional, plus still fighting the dry mouth and scratchy throat that are side effects of my chemotherapy and of the painkillers I'm taking just to be able to get around at all. That too I imagine will get easier over time, as the chemo comes to an end (at least for the time being) and my pain control continues to improve by trial and error. But these days my emotions are never far from the surface. And that's not necessarily such a bad thing.

Here's a Link to today's Homily and Ingathering Water Ceremony at the First Parish in Portland, Maine. Enjoy!

Brown Rice & Green Tea

~
...Fresh, organically-grown vegetables, raw or lightly steamed....

Beans, lentils, chickpeas, squash, peas, corn, potatoes, carrots....

Yummy vegetable soups in tomato or vegetable stocks....

And, of course, lots of fresh fruit, berries and nuts.

Not to mention dried fruits: raisins, prunes, figs, apricots....

Oatmeal (and Oatmeal cookies!)

Freshly baked whole grain breads.

Muffins and Quickbreads.

Pasta.

Are free-range eggs and dairy products on the menu?

What about seafood?

Honey?

Gosh there's a lot of good things to eat out there that don't involve the carcasses of pigs, chickens, or cows.

And that's BEFORE you start looking at all of the different "faux meat" products that are available these days.

I know I've joked in the past about "veggie bacon cheeseburgers," but if you really feel that strongly about it, why not?

Nostalgic for What Might Have Been

***
And this is always dangerous territory here. "What if?" "If only..." I think it's already been well established that, as a general rule, people tend to regret far more the things we wish we'd done and never did, than the things we actually did and wish we hadn't. The sins of omission, as it were. There are exceptions to this rule, of course. But even in a society that believes in forgiveness and a second chance, there are very few actual "do-overs" in life. We are changed by each choice we make; every decision is also a "cutting off" in a profoundly literal sense.

This Labor Day weekend has been a big bust for me. Played hooky from church only to regret it later, and meant to get caught up on all sorts of left-over end-of-the-summer, end-of-the-month correspondence and bill-paying and the like...but mostly I just napped and played nursemaid to my dog, as I tried to figure out how to make her feel comfortable and at home here, and establish good routines about feeding and "exercise" for us both. Sure, I wish we both were still walking (and that one of us was driving!); our lives right now would certainly be much easier if we were. But I'm awfully happy to have her here with me, and we'll just figure out the rest as we go.

Meanwhile though, my nostalgia for what might have been has become almost overwhelming. How would my life be different if my cancer had been diagnosed earlier, or if it had never happened at all? What if MFW and the kids had decided that they still actually LIKED sailing, even after her bad experience with her first husband, or...well, like I said, there's really not much point in playing this game, unless it's just an idle pastime intended to help me gain a little more insight into what I'd like to do NEXT.

Because the plain truth of the matter is that I simply can't imagine being anywhere or doing anything else that will give me more pleasure and purpose in life right now than getting back up on the chancel next week for our Annual Ingathering Water Ceremony, and continuing my ministry here at First Parish as ably and for as long as God gives me strength to do it. I hope that doesn't sound too corny, because it's really, really true.

It's also very reassuring to know just how much help and assistance I can look forward to in that effort, both from my (expanding) staff and from members of the congregation, and also from those of you who read this blog at a distance and send me your warm words of encouragement and support. Thanks again to all of you from the bottom of my heart. And to some of you, I look forward to seeing you next Sunday in Church!