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Sermon Index

RENEWING THE VISION

by the Reverend John Parker Manwell
and the Reverend Phyllis L. Hubbell
at the First Unitarian Church of Baltimore
on the 9th of September 2001

I

For 7 years now, you have entrusted this pulpit into our hands on Sunday mornings. Many of you have spent far more of your lives than I have feeding the poor and working for justice. Some of you have spent more time in prayer. Others have read more widely. I ask this day and always for words that come from somewhere inside or outside myself that tap the best that I am and more.

Seven years ago, we put up a banner in front of this church, on which were the words, Renewing the Vision. The year before we came, this congregation had taken a deep, prayerful look at who we felt called to be. The vision of this church was one where people of all ages engaged in a quest for wisdom. We wanted to widen our embrace to include all people, including our neighbors, whatever their race or ethnic origin, whatever their class, their sexual orientation, whatever their physical gifts and challenges.

We wanted to be a prophetic voice in this city. We wanted to be leaders on urban and human concerns. We hoped to grow our membership to increase our visibility and our diversity. We wanted worship services that inspired and enlightened us, filled with great music that stirred our souls.

Rob Eller Isaacs, then a minister at the First Unitarian Church of Oakland, preached at our installation as your ministers in the spring of 1995. He called on our congregation to offer our service to heal the wounds of racism, still so pervasive in our nations and in our churches. He called us not to rush blindly off to serve our own ego needs for recognition as a leader in the fight against injustice or in pursuit of large prestigious congregations that would make large pledges and fill vacant leadership positions. No, he asked us to heal racism by confessing our own failures, our own weaknesses, by asking rather than telling how we can help.

We began our ministry by asking you to join with us in taking that vision and developing from it a mission for the church. What healing word did this congregation have for itself and for the world? We spent much of our first year together, refining that statement, committing ourselves to being a community that worked for justice and equity among all people, while at the same time developing a spiritual community that we could call home. We committed ourselves to opening our hearts and this congregation to include all people. We rededicated ourselves to our children.

II

We embark this month on a major project. We want to bring these historic buildings back to their original beauty, and catch up with decades of deferred maintenance. We're committed to raising more than a million and a half dollars, on our way to a likely long-term goal of $4 to $5 million if we also are to rearrange our space and provide new space to meet the needs of a modern church. It's a breathtaking undertaking, yet we've already begun with last year's work on the outside, and the work now in process to restore our Tiffany windows. And of course, we would like to grow. We have room here, and with more people we can do more.

We applaud this commitment. We have worked hard for itPhyllis and I, your board and officers, a succession of able committees. We can do the job, and we will.

But there's a risk. We mustn't lose sight of what we're all about. What we're about, as a church, is not money, or buildings, or size, but about the transformative journey of healing the soul and the world around us.

In the Hebrew scriptures, there's a wonderful image called the sabbatical year. No, it's not about sending your ministers off for a season of renewalit's about taking time for a season of renewal for the whole community. On Mount Sinai, the Torah tells us, God spoke to Moses, saying

When you enter the land that I am giving you, the land shall observe a sabbath.... Six years you shall sow your field, and six years you shall prune your vineyard, and gather in their yield; but in the seventh year there shall be a sabbath of complete rest for the land, a sabbath...of complete rest for the land. (Lv. 25:1-5)

It's a time of making a fresh start. Of redeeming property lost because someone had fallen into debt. Of letting the land lie fallow for a season. And after 7 seven-year sabbatical periods, in the 50th year there was to be a "jubilee year" of even greater proportions. It's doubtful that these scriptural injunctions were meant to be taken literally. They carry more weight at the inward level. The sabbatical year is a time of calling a community back to its roots and its vision of community. You and I no longer farm the land, but we sow seeds here in our community, and look for a good harvest from our work. For us, this sabbatical imagery offers a summons that calls especially to us right now, after seven years of planting and working in the vineyard, as now we look to rebuild our property and renew our heritage. Our challenge is to remind ourselves, and keep always fresh in mind, why it is we need these funds and these buildings and this growth.

III

Seven years have passed. Today, we want to ask ourselves again, what is our healing word? What is our vision and what do we have to offer? Where are we called to be in this world?

That first Sunday 7 years ago, we told you a story that we want to repeat again this morning. Long ago, there was an old monastery. Much like many monasteries today, this one had fallen on hard times. People no longer seemed interested in the religious life. If they did, they didnt feel called to this remote place. The monks that were left were old. The abbott feared that the monastery would have to be closed.

So the abbott called the monks together to discuss with them his fears. All of them shared his concerns, but no one had a solution. Brother Matthew offered, however, that he had recently noted that their neighbor the rabbi was back after a long trip. Perhaps the rabbi, who was known as being very holy and very wise, might have a suggestion.

The abbott thought this was worth trying. The rabbi greeted him with open arms, but when told the problem said that the Jews were experiencing a similar problem. They didnt know what to do either. He was sorry. He wished he knew the answer.

The two friends talked into the night of God and humanity. When the abbott was about to leave the next morning, the rabbi said that a thought had come to him during the night. I dont know whether this will help you, but the messiah is among you.

The abbott asked him to explain, but the rabbi said that was all he knew.

Puzzled, the abbott returned to the monastery. Calling the monks together one more time, he told them that the rabbi had said he couldnt help them. Except for this cryptic message that the messiah was among them. The abbott didnt know what it meant, but they should pray on those words.

Shaking their heads, the monks all went to their rooms. What could the rabbi mean? The messiah was among them. Well, if it was anyone, it must be the abbott. He was so gentle and wise. He certainly couldnt have meant brother Matthew. That man, always thought he knew everything. But it was true that brother Matthew was frequently right. Well, it certainly wasnt brother Thomas. A more foolish person didnt exist. But it was true that Brother Thomas was the first at your side if you were sick or in pain. And so the thinking went down the dwindling list of brothers until each monk reached Well, it certainly couldnt be me Could it?

Seeing they couldnt rule anyone out, the monks began to treat each other differently, kindly, reverently, almost with a kind of wonder. One day, some folks who were picnicking nearby asked for a tour. Impressed by the extraordinary holiness they encountered there, they told their friends. In the spring, two young men asked if they could join the monastery. Four joined in the summer. Soon, the monastery was thriving once more.

IV

For these 7 years, we have drawn on this old story, looked to this beautiful calligraphy, to remind ourselves that in every one of us, and in every person who walks through these doors, there is that which is holy, that which has the potential to save the world. For me, it offers the even broader meaning that it takes all of us, together, looking at each other through the eyes of this sort of trust, to save this broken world.

In all religious traditions, and no less in our own, there is a tension between those who see religion primarily as personal and private, and those who see it as communal and public. Between going to church for our own salvation, and working through the church to serve the world. In the most recent issue of the UU Voice, which calls itself an independent journal of our movement, retired Meadville professor Rev. David Bumbaugh laments what he sees as a retreat from saving the world to a concern with our personal spiritual growth, simply making us "feel a little better about" ourselves. He calls it narcissism, and sees it as trivializing religion. The purpose of the church, he declares, is "not to take in each other's emotional laundry," but "the salvation of the world."

"True religion," he goes on, "makes demands upon people in exchange for a deepened sense of purpose and meaning."

I've encountered other voices in our movement, as in others, who would be happy to leave social and political involvement to secular groupsthe Sierra Club, Common Cause, the Democratic (or Republican) Party. They come to church for respite, not reform, and they're not necessarily conservatives; some of them do the work of service and justice all week, and come to church on Sunday for rest and inspiration.

But in truth, as in so many areas, it's a matter of "both/and." The "journey inward" into our souls is interwoven with the "journey outward" into the world. That's not just a fact, but a necessity. No journey inward is truly transformative until it leads us back outward, into relationship. No journey outward, into social service and reform, can last long unless we can draw on a strong spiritual foundation, else we burn out. It's in our work out in the world, as well, that we encounter life's great questions, questions of who we are and what our lives are for, which we take back into our inner journeys for reflection. And both journeys are best pursued in community with those we serve, so that we work from a shared agenda, and can reflect together on these questions. The religious life is like a figure "8," leading us inward and outward, outward and inward, in an endless journey.

So it must be with us. In these last 7 years we have talked much about community and spiritual growth, and always we need these to sustain us. We have also sown seeds of service and worked for justice, as we have gone out into our adopted school, and to a prison, fed the hungry, and worked for equal rights here in Maryland. Individuals among us have done much more. This work, too, will continue. But perhaps there is a larger, longer cycle at work here too. For the stronger communal and spiritual foundation we have built may lead us, as we reflect during this sabbatical year, to see greater opportunities ahead for our journey together out into the world.

The next 13 months, until election day in 2002, will be a critical period in which we risk the loss of the equal rights legislation for which we worked so hard. Even now, thanks to the Take Back Maryland campaign, its enforcement is suspended. Our gay and lesbian members continue to face discrimination in the workplace and in public accommodation in this state. UUs across this state were instrumental in getting this law passed this year, not least our own Carolyn Battle and others who have worked so hard through Free State Justice. We cannot do less in the campaign to keep this law on the books.

The vision statement that has guided us these 7 years called on us not just to build a diverse congregation, a task that has seen great success, not just to be a voice for justice in our community, but to be a voice in our denomination. This too has been happening, with the key role we are playing in UUs for Social Justice in the Baltimore/Washington area. With our support, this group has decided to focus its initial work on urban schools. The years ahead may well be for us in this congregation a time of deepening our support of our city's the public schools. Superintendent Russo has included Paca, our adopted school, in her "CEO's district" of schools at risk of failing, which means it will now get special resources and attention. Through our volunteer work there, as well as possible broader school involvement with our partner congregation, First Tabernacle, we may feel called to more intense support for the children of our city in these next several years.

And we as your ministers may find ourselves called, from this pulpit, and with your support, to an even greater emphasis on justice issues in our community.

As we renew our buildings, let us renew our vision, our spiritual strength, and our commitment to justice. The old rabbi planted a seed in the old monks' minds, a seed of new respect for each other, and trust. You and I have cultivated that trust these last seven years, as we looked at each other, at ourselves, and at all who come through these doors with a renewed sense of faith and trust. Who knows, one of us may be the messiah! Who knows, perhaps all of us together.

As we look ahead, let us broaden our vision to all those outside our own community, people who may never talk through these doors, people, even, in faraway cities and lands. Potential Messiahs, all of them.

These sabbatical months can be for us a season of fallowness, as we reflect on our vision and calling as a congregation. Though the demands of justice will not let up, and even in these next months, we will remain engaged in the struggle, still it can be for us a time of reflection and renewal. And as we look back in later years, we will see it as a time of turning, of fresh vision and resources and energy.

When I first told the story of the rabbi's gift, a dozen years ago, there was silence and then a voice in the congregation said, "You can't mean me!" Yes, I said, I do. You, and every one of us, inside these walls and wherever we look.

That's just what we mean this morning. May our hearts be opened.