The Other Shoe

For those of you around the country who have been waiting for the other shoe to drop after my February 18th posting “Died in the Ministry,” last week I sent the following letter to every member and friend of the First Parish in Portland:


Wednesday March 4th, 2009

Dear Members and Friends of the First Parish in Portland

After a great deal of reflection and no little soul searching, I have decided not to return in September to the pulpit at First Parish in the role of your settled parish minister.

I realize this announcement will come as a relief to some and as a disappointment to others. But I have known for some time now that I simply incapable of doing 100% of my job 100% of the time, and that I require considerable assistance simply to do the 20% of the job I felt was still delivering 80% of the benefit.

What I have only recently come to appreciate is that I am also no longer capable of giving 100% of my self to this ministry, not because of lack of desire, but because it is simply no longer there. Because of my illness, I am no longer the kind of minister I have always aspired to be, and the emotional burden this has placed on many of the critical lay leaders of this congregation has been considerable.

Your kindness, generosity and support for me these past twelve months have been overwhelming. My gratitude and affection for all of you are equally immense. First Parish deserves a minister who is capable of caring for all of its members, and not one who needs to be cared for himself.

The first week in March may seem like an unusual time to make this kind of announcement, but it was felt that in the interest of transparency this news should be known before the start of our annual Stewardship campaign, so that individual church members might have the opportunity to talk about their feelings with their visiting Stewards. At the very least, it should give us ample opportunity to say our “farewells.” And may we all be blessed in whatever lies ahead.

Faithfully Yours,

The Rev. Dr. Tim W. Jensen,
Parish Minister


As you might imagine, this was a very difficult letter to write. The people of this congregation have been incredibly generous and supportive of me over the past twelve months, and I honestly felt that I owed them everything I had in my effort to recover my health and come back as the “first-string, starting minister” of this team. So when I learned that so many of my most important lay leaders (including both the current and the incoming Governing Board Presidents) felt just the opposite, and that it was time for me to move on so that they could begin to move forward again, it initially came as quite a surprise.

But as I’ve sat with this question over the past few weeks, and meditated in my own heart about what is best both for the church and for me, I’ve come to see the wisdom of this choice. I WISH that I didn’t have to write this letter, and that I was capable of coming back and doing my job the way I have always aspired to do it; I wish that I didn’t have cancer in the first place, and could still estimate my life span in decades rather than a few years more or less. But I am RESIGNED to the fact that this is all just wishful thinking, and that there is a very real danger (if it hasn’t happened already) of my becoming a burden to this congregation, rather than an active and creative leader and contributor.

And when all is said and done, it really is all about what is best for the church. Like all UU ministers, I serve at the pleasure of my people, who enjoy the privilege of calling (and dismissing) whoever they choose as one of the fundamental cornerstones of our congregational polity. The tricky part is discerning what is truly “best.” I’m still not absolutely certain about the best answer to that question myself, and probably never will be. But absolute certainty is another one of those elusive luxuries few of us truly enjoy in this lifetime anyway.

What I do know is that no matter what I personally decide to do next, I will be fine (or as fine as one can be with a terminal cancer diagnosis). What I worry about most is the fate of those sixty-some people who have, will, or were in the process of joining this church during my tenure here, and whose primary “connection” is still with me, and not necessarily with the congregation as a whole. It would be a terrible tragedy for everyone concerned: them, myself, and the congregation at First Parish, if these newcomers were to simply “drift away,” without enjoying all of the benefits that belonging to a faith community like this one can bring. Fortunately, we have an excellent Membership Coordinator at First Parish who truly understands the notion of “radical hospitality,’ and who will do everything in her power to help keep these “lost lambs” in the flock.

For my own part, I haven’t exactly decided yet what to do next, although my basic trajectory is pretty clear. Depending on my medical condition I may stay on here in on here in Portland for a little while, but cancer is expensive, and I really can’t afford to stay here over the long term (at least not “in the manner to which I have grown accustomed”) without the nominal stipend (and generous benefits package!) the church was providing for me. So I fully expect that well before the first winter snowfall I will be back on the West Coast: either with my father in Sacramento, or near my daughter (and new grandchild!) in Portland OR, or (although this is probably just more wishful thinking) by myself back at our family cottage on Camano Island, where my mother and her mother before her spent the last years of their lives surrounded by family and family friends whose friendships go back for generations.

And the truth is that I will probably try out all of these places -- spending the early part of this summer visiting my brother and friends here on the East Coast (and especially my many friends on Nantucket!), who I will no doubt see a lot less of once I move out West again. But by the middle of July I plan to be back in Portland, OR to be present for the birth of my first grandchild, while also spending some time in August (September, October...) at Juniper Beach. And then down to Sacramento for the winter, and more permanent, long-term accommodations.

But again, this all remains to be seen. The first step is simply to bring “healthy closure” to my ministry here, and to say farewell to all these fine people I have grown to love so much these past two years, and who have done so much to support me as I have battled with my illness.