Passion Loves Company

Rev. Peter Friedrichs

March 16, 2008

The story is told about a Unitarian Universalist church that invited a well-known social activist to speak from the pulpit during a Sunday worship service. Members of the church were so impressed, both with his speaking ability and with his message, that they swarmed him after the service. Members of the social justice committee urged him to begin attending their meetings, and members of the worship committee asked him when he could return to speak again. The speaker, perhaps flattered by all the attention that was showered upon him, began showing up at the committee meetings for both groups. Little did he know that both committees were, at the time, operating without chairpersons. (You can probably see where this is going.) Soon the man was asked if he would consider chairing both of these committees and, not wanting to offend any of his new-found friends and admirers, he said he supposed he could do that. Then, of course, someone remembered that the bylaws of the church require all committee chairs to be members of the church, so they asked him if he would be willing to join. At this point, what else could he say but "Yes." And thus our denomination grew by one on the day he signed the membership book.

This story has something of the ring of urban legend to it, but we also know that it contains some serious elements of truth. I remember when I started attending the First Universalist Church in Yarmouth, Maine some twenty years ago. As I recall, I had been showing up on Sunday mornings for maybe a little more than a month before someone came up to me and said "Hey, you're a lawyer. Would you be willing to serve on our Finance Committee?" I'm sure many of you who started attending this or another church when your children were young were quickly recruited to teach Sunday School or to serve on the Religious Education Committee. I think Irene became the volunteer Director of Religious Education within the year we joined the church in Yarmouth.

Jean Morris Trumbauer, a church consultant, calls the institution that adopts this approach to volunteerism "The Church of the Twisted Arm." It follows the pattern of luring unsuspecting visitors into the community, discovering the gifts or talents they possess, and then using not-so-subtle means of persuading them to join committees or step into leadership roles. Guilt, the stepchild of desperation, is often the prime motivator. When someone is approached to chair this committee or to host that event, the message that's conveyed, either explicitly or impliedly, is one of quiet desperation: "If you don't do it, no one else will." I suspect that, like most churches, UUCDC may have a history of using this "fuss and beg" method, where newcomers were treated like unwary swimmers entering shark-infested waters. Perhaps that's the reason that the return rate on our talent survey is so low. I've heard several folks express their reluctance to complete the survey out of a fear that simply by expressing their interest or describing a talent they have that they'll be "asked to do something." While I'm not here today to twist your arm to fill out our talent survey, we sure would like to get more of them back, and perhaps by the end of this sermon you'll see the value in filling it out.

So, what are the alternatives to the "Church of the Twisted Arm?" I can name a few: How about "The Church of the Super Staff?" This would be a congregation, a very wealthy and generous one, that hires professional staff to do all the work of the church. Imagine that: a place where programs and events and worship and religious education offerings magically appear, prepared and presented by experts, where all you had to do was show up to partake of the offerings laid out before you. Attractive, perhaps. But unrealistic. There are some congregations who expect their church to operate this way, but these tend to be "The Church of the Perennially Overworked, Underpaid, and Burned-Out Staff." Another choice might be "The Church of the Weekly Worship." This would be a congregation that meets once a week for one purpose only: to worship together. No programs, no administration, no outreach, no religious education. And, I would bet, no members. I suppose that some spiritual associations, such as Buddhist Sanghas, come close to this model, where individuals meet for regular communal spiritual practice and little else. And I'll admit that the purity and simplicity of "The Church of the Weekly Worship" holds a certain attraction. Yet I would find it rather one-dimensional, and I suspect many of you might as well.

How about "The Church of Let George Do It." You may not know George. "George" is the name that pilots give to the auto-pilot that keeps an airplane flying on course. Once a pilot dials in the coordinates or programs the on-board computer, he or she can sit back and let the plane fly itself. Letting George do it requires minimal input from the pilot, who only makes adjustments when he or she encounters unanticipated factors such as heavy winds, storms, and intersecting traffic. "The Church of Let George Do It" is one where everyone and everything is on auto-pilot. Things are done the same today as they were yesterday and will be tomorrow. Church life is characterized by stability and dependability. Like a pilot who doesn't need to touch the yoke, the congregation can sit back and enjoy the ride, content, comfortable, and complacent. Only when some unexpected disruption occurs, like some kind of misconduct, or a ministerial transition, need the congregation actually engage in the work of the church. It may sound attractive to some of you, but I'd call this "The Church of the Bland and Boring."

"The Church of Let George Do It" is related, of course, to "The Church of Let Someone Else Do It" or what I call "The Church of Anyone But Me." The big difference between the "George" church and the "Anyone But Me" church is one of expectation. When you belong to a "George" congregation, you are satisfied with the status quo, with constancy and stability. In the "Church of Anyone But Me," members expect, and even demand, dynamic programming, effective outreach, and innovative worship. They want to be on the cutting edge of congregational life, with their church making headlines and overflowing with energy. But like the "Let George Church," members of the "Anyone But Me" church don't want to be hands-on participants to make it so. They're too busy in their lives outside the church, too committed to other causes, too old or too new, too "this" or too "that," to "strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward," as Marge Piercy put it in our reading today. There are plenty of other folks, they say, who can "pull like water buffalo, with massive patience." Maybe someday I'll have the time and the energy, but I don't right now. The problem with "The Church of Anyone But Me" is that it's completely unsustainable, it's a myth. It's impossible to maintain a dynamic, innovative community when it stands on the shoulders of just a few dedicated and tireless workers. Although some may have you believe otherwise, church should not be a martyr-making business! (I thought this might be a good place to put in a plug for the needs of the Interfaith Hospitality Network this week, but then I realized that you're all smart enough to connect the dots!)

So, if "The Church of Anyone But Me" doesn't work, and we want to be part of a dynamic congregation that's more than "The Church of the Weekly Worship," where we just "Let George Do It," and we don't have the financial means to run "The Church of the Super Staff," where does that leave us? Clearly we need to find a new model, a new way of being together in community, where each individual feels empowered, emboldened, and encouraged to share his or her gifts with a sense of joy and fulfillment. While some of you may be skeptical, I don't see this as an impossible task. Far from it. And I call a church where this can and does happen "The Church of the Passionate Pursuit."

I would like to take a few minutes looking at why we are here. Not the great, capital-letter question "WHY ARE WE HERE?" but the more immediate question of what brings us to this church, week after week. As my colleague Rev. Dr. Joshua Schneider writes, "It's clear that none of you has come here in order to get more things to do. No one comes to church because they just aren't busy enough and so they need to devote themselves to mindless tasks." Earlier this week a couple of young men stopped by the church to find out what we're all about. After we talked for a while, one of them asked me, "If you don't come here to worship God, what goes on here on Sunday morning?" It's a great question, don't you think? What are we seeking, and what do we find here? Not just on Sunday mornings, but on Tuesday evenings and Saturday afternoons and even on those days when we're not here but want to be here? What is the central purpose of a church, of this church? There are probably as many answers to this question as there are people in this room.

Many of us come here in search of community, that sense of belonging. We long for a place that welcomes us as we are, that includes us instead of keeping us somewhere on the outside. Coming here helps us overcome our sense of isolation. I know that lots of us, myself included, came here at first so that our children would receive some kind of religious orientation, some foundation that will help us to help them grow into good and responsible adults. And perhaps you stayed, even though your children are now grown, because you've found that this place helps you do that, too. Others are here because our church provides a vehicle for them to engage in social action projects while others still find this place a refuge from the problems of the world and the problems in their lives. We offer both a sanctuary where healing and recovery can occur, and a place to move out from, to do work in the larger world. And we are a place where we seek answers to those capital-letter questions I referred to before, questions like "WHY ARE WE HERE?" and "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF MY LIFE?" These are but a few of the functions our church plays.

But here's what I think the primary purpose of our church is, our central reason for being: we are a here to nurture the spark of passion that burns within each of us. Let me say that again: our central reason for being is to nurture the spark of passion that burns within each of us. Call that spark the divinity that resides within us all, or call it our deepest longing, or the force that motivates us. But we are here, I believe, to help one another discover, cultivate, embody, and ultimately express that wholeness, that core of our being that longs to emerge from deep within. We are the place where you can be the best, the most, "you" that you can be. A place where you can discover and grow into your authentic being. To borrow an image from Dr. Joni Carly's talk here a few weeks ago, we are the fertile soil where the seed of your self can break open and take root, the garden where the radiant flower of you can bloom in all its glory. Jean Morris Trumbauer, to whom I referred earlier, states it in theological terms when she writes: "The heart of the ministry of each faith community is assisting people to discover the unique gifts embedded in them by the Creator - gifts that allow them to respond to God's call to serve as partners in living out the dream of the reign of God in the world."

Regardless of the language we use to describe it, the work of the church, of our church, is to help you answer three essential questions: "What is your passion?" "How will you pursue it?" and "What will you do with it?" This is the work of the Church of the Passionate Pursuit, the work of what I call passion-based ministry. Marge Piercy tells us that "the thing worth doing well done has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident." There is much that is worth doing, you can be sure of that. And none of us can do it all, nor should we try. But the beauty of our human community is that our passions are as diverse as the needs of the world. If the thing you are doing, or are asked to do, doesn't align with your passion, no matter how well you do it, it will not have that "shape that satisfies." Theologian Frederick Buechner has said that "neither the hair shirt nor the soft berth will do. The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet." This is how Buechner defines our "vocation," where our deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet. Howard Thurman has framed it this way: "Don't ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."

A passion-based ministry does not first ask you to "do." Instead, it firsts asks you, "what makes you come alive?" It does not assume that because you are an accountant that you should serve on the Finance Committee or that because you are a teacher that you will want to volunteer in the religious education program. Perhaps after crunching numbers all week, what you long for most is to sink your hands into the soft, warm earth of the Memorial Garden. Or after tending to youngsters all week you want to warm your soul over a steaming vat of soup as you feed the homeless.

You have heard me say before that we are a covenantal community, a community that makes certain promises, certain commitments to each other. Covenants are mutual and reciprocal. We live by these agreements and we are only as good as the promises that we keep. One of the covenants that exists among us is this: As an institution we covenant to support you in the pursuit of your passion. We will provide worship services that stimulate your mind and move your heart and spirit. We will offer workshops and classes and small groups that prompt you to dive deep within yourself. We will challenge you to clarify and articulate and express your deepest yearnings and most heart-felt beliefs. And we will do these things always without the threat of judgment and always from a wellspring of love. For your part, you covenant to be an active participant in the process, your own and that of others. You agree to support the church in this work with the spark of your passion, to bring your deep gladness to meet the deep hunger of those around you. As a member of this church, you promise to birth your passion into the world, and to share your particular gifts with this community of neighbors and friends and fellow seekers. This is the passion-based, shared ministry that we are all called to pursue. And this is the Church we aspire to create.

May it be so.

Closing Words:

The words of T. Alan Armstrong:

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