A Sermon by the Reverend Ellen Rowse Spero
First Parish Unitarian Universalist Church,
Chelmsford, Massachusetts
September 21, 2003
Ancient Reading: Matthew 25:24-40
Modern Reading: "The Thread" by Denise Levertov
Copyright 2003, Ellen Rowse Spero. All rights reserved.
Last week, I asked those of you here to write on index cards what this religious and spiritual community embodied for you and what you hoped it could embody.
Essentially, the theme was connection:
Connect with larger than self: world, holy and sacred.
Connect with others who share values of peace, justice, inclusiveness, respect for differences.
Connect with others for support, for fun, for company on the journey.
These are ways of naming the thread described by Levertov. We are brought here by: "that stirring of wonder" that pulls at us, that connects us to life. Our response to that pull, that stirring of wonder, is to give it flesh and form, to make it concrete and alive. We do that through relationship, through connecting with others.
The caring quilt is actually a better sermon on this than anything I could come up with. There it is, a concrete example of what it means to build and nurture connections in a religious community. We gather each week in worship, and as part of that worship express the importance of supporting those among us who are sick, who need care. A group within our community realize how they can use their talents and gifts to give expression to that particular way of connecting. So, they gather each week to make this quilt. In their gathering, they are not just making a quilt that will connect us with those who are too ill to come to church, they are also nurturing the connections between themselves. As they quilt, they talk, they share. The stranger visiting from Oregon finds a home for the few weeks she is here. And as this group works together on the quilt, their individual connections to the larger congregation deepen: they have invested something precious to themselves into this community. They give their time and talent in service to the community. This is ministry.
There are a myriad of ways, a myriad of threads we can use to build and nurture our connections here. It begins with worship. I know that worship is not for everyone in this community and that not everyone comes for the worship. However, worship is the central and defining act of this community. To worship means to lift up, to praise, or to name that which we hold as worthy, as holding ultimate value. So, it is in worshipping together that we begin to define, to name, and to praise those values that connect us, that we hold in common. Worship is where we open ourselves up to connecting: with one another, with the larger community, and with the sacred, that sense of being part of something larger than ourselves. To truly worship is a risky business because we are opening ourselves up to that thread, to feeling connected. And once you risk connection, you risk all kinds of things: you risk feeling cold, hungry, thirsty, tired, naked, sick or imprisoned. You also risk feeling joy, love, being fed, cared for, nurtured, feeling awake, and alive.
It is from the sense of connection that our congregational life grows. As we feel more connected, we are willing to give our time, money, energy, and talent to sustaining and growing our congregation. We can choose formal and informal ways to foster our connections. We can join a committee, volunteer to teach our children, join the choir, the small group ministry program, or take an adult RE class. We can spend a Saturday fixing up the building and grounds, cooking for the May or July 4th breakfast. We can help with the Holiday Fair or the annual auction. We can sign up to host social hour, to bring flowers, or to light the chalice. We can join fellow knitters or quilters. We can volunteer for Community Table.
If we risk connecting, we may find both a giving and a getting back. Our giving hopefully is nurturing us and helping us feel more deeply connected. I have an example to share. Deidre, the class coordinator and teacher for the Early Beginners and Beginners class, shared a story with me which I asked if I could share with you. She, along with the Caring Connection, have put in place the "Connection Pals" program, where children in her class are matched with an older member of the congregation, oftentimes one who can no longer come easily to church. The pals exchange notes and pictures, and the children share the results of their class projects. The other day, Deidre’s son, Tristan, went to visit his connection pal, Madelon Clough. He sang for her all the songs he had learned at his preschool.
These are the kind of relationships, the kind of connections that make a church or religious community unique. There are few places outside the family where members of different generations form relationships and feel connected to one another. Madelon had the experience of company, of being thought special enough to come visit to share something important to Tristan. Tristan had the experience of sharing an accomplishment important to him with someone outside his family. Deidre had the experience of having someone else loving and caring for her child.
It would be nice if these connections just happened, if we could all walk in here and feel deeply connected. Connecting used to be easier when neighbors and communities were closer, more homogenous and everyone knew each other. Now, the busyness and stress of our individual lives, and the area population growing in number and diversity make connecting harder.
I shared with you Jesus’ sermon about connection. I have a book entitled "Jesus and Buddha: The Parallel Sayings." So I looked up "Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me." Sure enough, Buddha said something similar. Buddha, visiting a monastery, sees a monk ill with dysentery that no one is helping. When he asks why, he is told that the monk did nothing for them, so they saw no reason to help him. And Buddha replies, "If you do not tend one another, then who is there to tend you? Whoever would tend me, he should tend the sick." (Vinaya, Mahavagga 8.26.3).
Both teachers see themselves as connected to each and every other human being. To help each and every person, even "the least of these" is to help the most holy and revered. If we do not tend one another, then we risk having no one to tend us.
Both teachers challenge us to step beyond ourselves, to reach out. Connection is risky. It requires intentionality, respect, communication, trust, a willingness to give without necessarily being assured being given something immediately in return. We, as individual members in a religious community, have to take on the responsibility of creating and sustaining our connections. That is why we have covenants to describe our relationships and by-laws to structure our institution. Their role is not to create hard and fast rules but to create a sense of safety, predictability, and accountability. Hopefully, they make it easier to build trust and foster communication.
Part of my role as the minister is to help bring these ways of connecting to light, to help us connect more deeply. My hope is that we see our individual connections within this community as part of the larger whole, rather than in competition or separate from each other. I hope we see how all we do is connected. It takes effort, commitment, and intentionality. It means reaching out beyond our comfort level to engage in conversation with someone we don’t know. It means reading the newsletter. It means staying involved and in relationship as we work through tough decisions and differences. It means participating in the RE program even if you have no children in it.
Our seventh and last principle states that we covenant to affirm and promote "respect for the interdependent web of existence of which we are a part." Hopefully, what we practice here gives us the skill, the resolve, the courage to try it out in our larger world. For what we would do for the most vulnerable among us makes clearer and stronger that sacred thread, that stirring of wonder, that holds us and gives our own lives meaning.