The stories below and the group gathering guide that follows them are part of a booklet I have just put together for use at the Oak Ridge Unitarian Universalist Church. Copie of “Stories to Live By”are available at the church, in the entrance to the sanctuary and by the office entrance. Please feel free to take a booklet for home and/or share with others.
Our adult Sunday morning group, “Pensive Preview,” uses these stories to launch their lively and reflective weekly discussions from 10:00 -10:45 am. Our “Spirit Play” group (children, ages 5-10) uses these stories as the basis of “Circle Time” each week. Sometimes our high school group or one of our covenant groups will draw from the story of the week for their gatherings.
It is my hope that these stories and gathering plans will be useful in a wide variety of settings—in family groups, with a gathered group of friends, as part of someone’s weekly spiritual practice, even as part of a committee meeting or church retreat. We at this church have just begun to tap the potential that is inherent in taking the time to reflect upon wisdom tales, all together, on a weekly basis. When all of us, with our unique perspectives, come together to reflect on the same story (or in this case stories), we connect with each other and with wider truths that have stood the test of time.
Why stories? Why not lectures or research results? Why have people across time and culture loved stories?
Stories are the basic way we humans make meaning in our lives. How many of you lean in when the preacher gets to the part of the sermon that is a story? Stories are memorable; they come from life and engage our heads and our hearts simultaneously. Stories are also a means of connecting across ages and stages because they can be understood at different levels and in different ways. There is something for everyone in a good story.
Why repeat the stories? Why not cast a wide net? What about novelty? Who wants to hear a story when they already know how it is going to turn out?
How many of us choose to hear the story of Jesus’s birth every Christmas? What about the Passover Seder held each year in Jewish congregations? Or the story of Buddha’s Awakening? By telling and retelling core wisdom tales, the Unitarian Universalist Association Adult Programs Director for Faith Development, Gail Forsyth Vail, says we are building “hand holds” to use for the “climb” that is our lives. When we are familiar enough with a story, when we know it in our bones, we can take from it what we need when we need it.
Each week, I will post the story that will be told in next Sunday’s service. I hope you enjoy them. Please use the group gathering guides in ways that work for you. May these stories connect you to others, to the deeper parts of your own knowing, and to the wisdom of the ages. May connections abound!
In faithful partnership,
Tandy
The Easter Story (first of two stories for April 4, 2010)
Context
The Christian story of Easter is found in all four Gospels of the Bible: Matthew 28:1-9, Mark 16:1-13, Luke 24:1-49, and John 20:1-23. This is the version from John:
Story
Jesus developed many followers during his ministry, traveling the land, healing the sick, and telling stories of compassion and love. The government leaders didn’t like the fact that Jesus had such a powerful following, so they conspired to have him put to death. Eventually the Roman Governor Pontius Pilate ordered that Jesus should be nailed to a cross of wood and die there on top of a hill called “Calvary,” or “The Skull Place.”
The sky was dark on the Friday when Jesus died. His last words were “It is finished. Father (or Daddy), into your hands I give my spirit.”
Jesus’ followers were devastated over the loss of their beloved teacher. They took his body and wrapped it in a cloth, placing it in a tomb. Then they rolled a large stone in front of it, so no one would bother the body.
On the Sunday morning two days after Jesus’ death, Mary Magdala went to the tomb to mourn the death of her friend, but she was upset to find the stone in front of the tomb had been rolled away. Thinking someone had stolen the body, she ran off to find help. She found two of Jesus’ disciples, Peter and John, and told them someone had stolen Jesus’ body. The two men ran quickly to the tomb and found it empty. All they saw were the cloths that had been wrapped around Jesus’ body rolled up in a corner. Instantly, they knew that Jesus had risen from the dead, and ran to tell others about the miracle.
Finally Mary got back to the tomb as well. Still thinking someone had taken Jesus’ body, she cried bitterly over the fate of her friend. When she looked into the tomb, she saw two men, dressed all in white and with shining faces, sitting at the place where Jesus’ body had been.
“Why do you weep?” one asked her.
“Because they have taken my Lord away and I don’t know where he is,” she cried. Then something made her turn around. She saw a man standing behind her. Thinking it was the gardener, she asked him, “Have you taken the body of my Lord? If so, please, won’t you tell me where he is?”
Then Jesus said her name – “Mary” – and she looked into his eyes and recognized him. She saw that he was alive.
“My Master!” she cried out and flung herself at his feet, reaching for him.
“Don’t take hold of me, Mary,” he said. “I’m not yet going to God. But go and tell the others I will be going to God.”
So Mary ran to tell the others what had happened, and she was filled with joy.
Jesus appeared to several other people in the days that followed his resurrection. Some refused to believe that he had returned from the dead until he showed them the wounds in his hands and feet where he had been nailed to the cross. Then they believed and helped spread the word of Jesus’ miracle over death.
Persephone (second of two stories for April 4, 2010)
Context
The tale of Persephone is a classical Greek myth, explaining why the seasons are as they are.
Story
Demeter, the goddess of the earth and the harvest, had a daughter whose name was Persephone. Demeter made sure the plants and crops grew, and Persephone helped her.
Pluto, who was the god of the Underworld, wanted to marry Persephone. He asked Zeus if he could. But Zeus didn’t answer. He knew Demeter would say no.
The day came when, as Persephone was out alone, Pluto saw her. He kidnapped her, and took her down to the Underworld. As they entered, they passed Cerebus, the three-headed dog guarding the gates of the Underworld, who makes sure the dead don’t leave.
When Demeter learned that her daughter was gone, she was bereft. She wailed in grief. She stopped taking care of the crops, and began to look for her daughter. As she did, the crops withered and died. At last, Demeter learned that Pluto was keeping Persephone prisoner in the Underworld. Demeter went to Zeus, and begged him to make Pluto release her daughter. Because the humans would starve without crops, other gods chimed in, too, asking Zeus to make Pluto release Persephone. Finally, Zeus agreed to step in. He commanded Pluto to release Persephone, on the condition that Persephone had not eaten anything while she was in the Underworld. But Pluto was crafty. Before letting Persephone go, he tempted her to eat a few pomegranate seeds from his garden. Because Persephone had eaten from Pluto’s underworld garden, she was required to stay part of the year now with him, and could only spend part of the year on earth with her mother.
Now, every year when Persephone is with Pluto in the Underworld, Demeter becomes sad and lets the crops die. When Persephone returns to her, Demeter becomes happy, and you can see it all over in the blooming of flowers and the flourishing of the crops.
Group Gathering
Chalice Lighting
Opening Words:
The human spirit has its winter but it also has its spring.
This is the truth that must be retold each time the earth renews itself and
restores our souls.
We know that impetuous green shoots and fragile blossoms do not alter the fact
of sorrow and loss
And yet we are uplifted again by the vitality and hope in the beauty of the
awakening earth
Only as we recognize the winter-like bonds which bind us and separate us from
life
Only as we open ourselves to the light and warmth and growth can we set
ourselves free
Our intellect tells us we are mortal and that we shall die later or sooner
But our spirits tell us that we are one with the infinite, that some part of us will
never cease to be.
~ Janet H. Bowering
Check in: How are you? What season describes your current state of mind and heart?
Sharing: First, the general “Godly Play” questions from Jerome Berryman:
1. What was your favorite part of the stories?
2. What do you think was the most important part of the stories?
3. Where are YOU in these stories?
4. Is there any part of the stories we could leave out and still have all the story we need?
Now, questions that connect the story to Unitarian Universalism.
5. Which of our Unitarian Universalist principles does this story bring to mind for you and why?
6. How does this story inform your life as a Unitarian Universalist?
Now, the specific questions pertaining to these stories:
7. What is your understanding of Jesus's appearing to his followers in the days following his crucifixion?
8. In what ways do you identify with the Easter story? In what ways do you struggle with it?
9. What is your understanding of death and rebirth?
10. What restores you?
Likes and wishes: What did you like about this gathering?
What do you wish had been different?
Closing:
From Dick Gilbert
… There is no escaping the seasons of life—we simply learn to live with them.
Bundle ourselves against the cold or find cool refreshment from oppressive
heat.
We learn to live with them, for, like the seasons, they pass on and away.
But, how joyous to know that now, for a fleeting moment,
We are precariously perched on the precipice of spring.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Multigenerational Worship this Sunday, April 4
I attended a “Worship for All Ages” workshop ten years ago. At the time my mother had been dead fifteen years, my grandmother ten years, and my father three years. The leader led us in a guided meditation. She took us back to our childhoods and asked us to visit a place that was spiritual for us. I went straight to the third pew from the front on the right in the Watts Street Baptist Church, Durham, North Carolina.
I could feel my legs, too short to reach the floor, swinging back and forth. I could see the play of light from the stained glass windows and the dark rich wood of the pews, so cool and smooth to the touch. The room felt simultaneously spacious and cozy.
Then, I saw what had been my view for hundreds of childhood Sundays—the view along the length of that third pew. There we all were….my little brother, my two younger sisters, my mother (always so beautiful to me on Sundays), my father (only time of the week in a coat and tie), and my grandmother (fur stole, both alarming and fascinating, with those little animals still intact. I didn’t want to see their beady eyes and tiny claws, but I couldn’t help looking.)
There we all were. I could see my father’s rough, cracked hands--no wedding ring, my mother’s freckled, generous hands with diamonds that sparkled, my brother’s and sisters’ hands holding pencils, doodling on their orders of service, my grandmother’s very soft, pale hands. When I sat by my grandmother, she played a little hand game with me. Two squeezes started the exchange—“Love me?” Two squeezes back replied, “Uh-huh.” Two again, from the initiator—“How much?”. The answer gauged by the strength of the squeeze…the harder squeeze the more the love.
There we all were. I could see us, feel us, touch the love that held our family as we sat, week after week, year after year, third pew on the right. I believe it was love that guided us to sit together in that pew, but I also believe that that love actually grew and deepened as we sat together in that pew, forging an anchor for my life.
This Sunday, April 4, Easter Sunday, we will worship as a multi-generational community. We will have nursery and preschool care, but children, kindergarten and older, will remain in the service, as we do several times a year. I wish we did it more, much more, every week, even.
I do know that these “multi-gen Sundays” are much dreaded by some, and rightly so. I get it that trying to meet your own spiritual needs while also monitoring your children--are they being quiet enough?...are they still enough?—is a rough row to hoe. It is hard work, plain and simple. I know that this is asking a lot of parents, and I admit that it may be too much. After all, it may be the one time during the week that you have some peace and quiet.
I also know this. I know that we only learn to read by reading. We only learn to pray by praying. We only learn to worship with children by worshipping with children. And our children only learn to worship by worshipping.
At whatever age we learned to read, we all began with stops and starts, unknown words, frustration, even tears. Imagine if, when we were learning this lifelong habit, we read just a few times a year. We would never know the joy and satisfaction of a good book.
Here is what I wonder. I wonder, if we could tough it out in the early phase of learning to worship with children, might we end up finding deep joy and satisfaction as families, sitting side by side, in worship? I believe that the hard work could be worth it. What if part of our mission at this church were to help family members forge the love that binds them into anchors for their lives?
Parents, you are not alone in this hard work, should you choose to take it on. You are part of a vibrant and loving faith community. May those of us without children, be patient with families as they are learning. May those of us who feel so moved, make it our mission to sit with children and families and serve as gentle guides in worship.
I hope to see you this Sunday, April 4 for our multi-generational Easter worship.
I could feel my legs, too short to reach the floor, swinging back and forth. I could see the play of light from the stained glass windows and the dark rich wood of the pews, so cool and smooth to the touch. The room felt simultaneously spacious and cozy.
Then, I saw what had been my view for hundreds of childhood Sundays—the view along the length of that third pew. There we all were….my little brother, my two younger sisters, my mother (always so beautiful to me on Sundays), my father (only time of the week in a coat and tie), and my grandmother (fur stole, both alarming and fascinating, with those little animals still intact. I didn’t want to see their beady eyes and tiny claws, but I couldn’t help looking.)
There we all were. I could see my father’s rough, cracked hands--no wedding ring, my mother’s freckled, generous hands with diamonds that sparkled, my brother’s and sisters’ hands holding pencils, doodling on their orders of service, my grandmother’s very soft, pale hands. When I sat by my grandmother, she played a little hand game with me. Two squeezes started the exchange—“Love me?” Two squeezes back replied, “Uh-huh.” Two again, from the initiator—“How much?”. The answer gauged by the strength of the squeeze…the harder squeeze the more the love.
There we all were. I could see us, feel us, touch the love that held our family as we sat, week after week, year after year, third pew on the right. I believe it was love that guided us to sit together in that pew, but I also believe that that love actually grew and deepened as we sat together in that pew, forging an anchor for my life.
This Sunday, April 4, Easter Sunday, we will worship as a multi-generational community. We will have nursery and preschool care, but children, kindergarten and older, will remain in the service, as we do several times a year. I wish we did it more, much more, every week, even.
I do know that these “multi-gen Sundays” are much dreaded by some, and rightly so. I get it that trying to meet your own spiritual needs while also monitoring your children--are they being quiet enough?...are they still enough?—is a rough row to hoe. It is hard work, plain and simple. I know that this is asking a lot of parents, and I admit that it may be too much. After all, it may be the one time during the week that you have some peace and quiet.
I also know this. I know that we only learn to read by reading. We only learn to pray by praying. We only learn to worship with children by worshipping with children. And our children only learn to worship by worshipping.
At whatever age we learned to read, we all began with stops and starts, unknown words, frustration, even tears. Imagine if, when we were learning this lifelong habit, we read just a few times a year. We would never know the joy and satisfaction of a good book.
Here is what I wonder. I wonder, if we could tough it out in the early phase of learning to worship with children, might we end up finding deep joy and satisfaction as families, sitting side by side, in worship? I believe that the hard work could be worth it. What if part of our mission at this church were to help family members forge the love that binds them into anchors for their lives?
Parents, you are not alone in this hard work, should you choose to take it on. You are part of a vibrant and loving faith community. May those of us without children, be patient with families as they are learning. May those of us who feel so moved, make it our mission to sit with children and families and serve as gentle guides in worship.
I hope to see you this Sunday, April 4 for our multi-generational Easter worship.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Two Kinds of Connections
I'm thinking about two kinds of connections--huddling and mixing--familiar terms. We huddle on the football field. We mix cake batter ingredients. But, huddling and mixing as kinds of connections?…hmmmmm….Might we huddle at church rather than on the football field, and might we mix people rather than ingredients?
Mixing and huddling…Unitarian Universalist Association of Congregations Adult Programs Director, Gail Forsyth-Vail, uses these terms to describe the ways we need to connect members of our congregations. David Savoie, Chair-Elect of our Adult Religious Education Committee, and I participated in a weekend workshop on Adult Faith Development, led by Gail.
We huddle. We circle up with our cohorts to share our life stories and the meaning we make of them. We circle up with our cohorts to find sustenance and the nudge we need to grow into our fullness and to be faithful to our ideals. We circle up to know others and to be known, to gather strength for our days…and our nights.
We mix. We come together to live into our multi-cultural, multi-generational vision of an inclusive and just world. We come together to celebrate this multilingual liberal religious faith that is Unitarian Universalism. We come together because we learn the most from those who are different from us. From them, we glimpse the world through new lenses and gain perspectives we had not yet considered...or had forgotten.
Huddling--building and strengthening connections with our ORUUC “peeps”, those with whom we find ourselves most at home, those who have chosen to come together for a common cause or common experience in church life.
Mixing-- connecting with the wider ORUUC congregation--Gen Xers and Silent Generation folks, pagans and humanists, morning people and night owls, those with time on their hands and those who need more hours in each day, those whose service to the church is to sing anthems in the choir and those who serve by singing lullabies in the Nursery.
So, how does “huddling and mixing” inform my work as your religious educator?
I work, in partnership with you, the congregation, to build and nurture strong “Home Groups,” circles of people who know each other well over time, where each member of the group has a strong sense of belonging. “Home groups”--circles of people who take care of each other, learn and grow, and serve the church and others together. Some of our existing groups already function as ‘Home Groups”—the Welcoming Congregation Team, the Religious Education Committee, and our Youth Group, to name a few. Other groups in our church might grow into home groups simply by being more intentional about service to the church or by taking time to reflect on the good work they have done together. I work, also, with Membership Coordinator, Gina Grubb, to make certain that every ORUUCian who wishes to belong to a “Home Group” is invited to do so.
I work, in partnership with you, to build and nurture opportunities that bring us together across boundaries…events such as “Everybody’s Birthday Party.” But, also quieter opportunities…This past weekend, Abbie Moore shared her passion for card-making, using stamps. She guided our Spirit Play children in creating greeting cards, using resources she donated to the group. The Spirit Play children are now the church’s official “Caring Committee Card Creators.” In a few weeks, Judy Van Winkle will join Spirit Play to share her stories of how the cards the Caring Committee sends are part of living out the church’s mission…"We care.”
Mixing and Huddling…Caring, Serving, Learning...May connections abound!
In faithful partnership,
Tandy
Mixing and huddling…Unitarian Universalist Association of Congregations Adult Programs Director, Gail Forsyth-Vail, uses these terms to describe the ways we need to connect members of our congregations. David Savoie, Chair-Elect of our Adult Religious Education Committee, and I participated in a weekend workshop on Adult Faith Development, led by Gail.
We huddle. We circle up with our cohorts to share our life stories and the meaning we make of them. We circle up with our cohorts to find sustenance and the nudge we need to grow into our fullness and to be faithful to our ideals. We circle up to know others and to be known, to gather strength for our days…and our nights.
We mix. We come together to live into our multi-cultural, multi-generational vision of an inclusive and just world. We come together to celebrate this multilingual liberal religious faith that is Unitarian Universalism. We come together because we learn the most from those who are different from us. From them, we glimpse the world through new lenses and gain perspectives we had not yet considered...or had forgotten.
Huddling--building and strengthening connections with our ORUUC “peeps”, those with whom we find ourselves most at home, those who have chosen to come together for a common cause or common experience in church life.
Mixing-- connecting with the wider ORUUC congregation--Gen Xers and Silent Generation folks, pagans and humanists, morning people and night owls, those with time on their hands and those who need more hours in each day, those whose service to the church is to sing anthems in the choir and those who serve by singing lullabies in the Nursery.
So, how does “huddling and mixing” inform my work as your religious educator?
I work, in partnership with you, the congregation, to build and nurture strong “Home Groups,” circles of people who know each other well over time, where each member of the group has a strong sense of belonging. “Home groups”--circles of people who take care of each other, learn and grow, and serve the church and others together. Some of our existing groups already function as ‘Home Groups”—the Welcoming Congregation Team, the Religious Education Committee, and our Youth Group, to name a few. Other groups in our church might grow into home groups simply by being more intentional about service to the church or by taking time to reflect on the good work they have done together. I work, also, with Membership Coordinator, Gina Grubb, to make certain that every ORUUCian who wishes to belong to a “Home Group” is invited to do so.
I work, in partnership with you, to build and nurture opportunities that bring us together across boundaries…events such as “Everybody’s Birthday Party.” But, also quieter opportunities…This past weekend, Abbie Moore shared her passion for card-making, using stamps. She guided our Spirit Play children in creating greeting cards, using resources she donated to the group. The Spirit Play children are now the church’s official “Caring Committee Card Creators.” In a few weeks, Judy Van Winkle will join Spirit Play to share her stories of how the cards the Caring Committee sends are part of living out the church’s mission…"We care.”
Mixing and Huddling…Caring, Serving, Learning...May connections abound!
In faithful partnership,
Tandy
Friday, March 5, 2010
Growing a Minister Takes Time...and a Leap of Faith
One day in the fall of 1972, my junior year in college, I set off alone on a bike ride. I had just decided that psychology, too, was not the right major for me. I rode away from campus and into the inner city of Greensboro asking myself what I was meant to do. I knew I wanted to work with people in a helping profession, but I had changed my mind every semester or two as to the particular nature of my work. Riding my bike, I felt my first call to ministry. It was strong and surprising to me. The church of my childhood had been pivotal in my life, and I had great affection and respect for both the youth and senior ministers there. Could I, should I become a minister?
In the following weeks, I piddled around with my thoughts about ministry and eventually set them aside. I did not personally know any female ministers. The college I was attending on full honorary scholarship did not even offer a major in religious studies. The idea of pursuing the ministry would have demanded that I push boundaries and go into unknown territory. I was not ready.
So, I became a teacher and poured myself into my work. I taught in public schools for fourteen years. I also became involved in religious education at the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church. I taught religious education and served on and chaired the Religious Education Committee. I also served on the Board and lead the Caring Team of the church. Meanwhile, Peter and I became parents, and I stayed home during Ben’s and Sam’s early years. During those years, I served on Search Committees for Directors of Religious Education. I began to sense that this was work I would love when the time was right for our family.
In 1997, this church, the Oak Ridge Unitarian Universalist Church, was searching for a half-time religious educator. I applied and was hired on the spot—virtually during my job interview! (I found this very puzzling until years later I learned that I was the only person who had applied!) From the first day on the job until today, I have loved my work and thrived as a religious educator. I believe it is work I was meant to do. I also believe it is work I was meant to do in this place and with these people. I have found the work to be rewarding and meaningful not just because of its nature but because of the people that I have known and served and worked beside and come to love.
In the fall of 2007, I was credentialed as a Master Level Religious Educator. I took several on-line seminary courses in order to meet the credentialing requirements, and I completed an extensive list of required reading. I thoroughly enjoyed all that I learned. My love for my work deepened as a result of understanding the work more deeply.
In December 2008, when Jake began his five-month sabbatical, he made arrangements for me to lead most of the Celebration Services. We were just beginning these services, and they did not fit the format that a visiting minister would expect. Unexpectedly, these services became a highlight of my week. While I knew that I could speak effectively and was capable of leading meaningful worship, I had not yet met the Preacher in me. The homilies I shared in Celebration services tended come from a deep place inside me, and they seemed to meet people where they were and invite them into a deeper place as well.
After Jake’s return, I thought about whether to pursue ministry and discussed this with him. I knew the pull was there for me, but I also felt conflicted. I am a religious educator in the very core of my being, and I needed to discern whether becoming a minister would be deserting my religious educator center or honoring it. I was reassured by colleagues that Unitarian Universalism needs ministers with strong backgrounds in religious education. Eventually, I came to realize that my choice was to either lean into ministry or hold myself back.
In November, 2009, I made the choice to lean in. I believe in my soul that this path toward ministry is right for me at this time. I plan to continue my work as the religious educator at the Oak Ridge Unitarian Universalist Church while fulfilling the requirements to become a fellowshipped Unitarian Universalist minister. The process will take me several years.
I want to be very clear that I have no desire to become a minister in order to move on to a new setting and a new bigger better career. I have grown into ministry right here, and I see this as a joint journey for the congregation and me. Jake says that ministers grow out of healthy and strong churches, and that has been my experience here. I deeply appreciate all of the opportunities that this church has afforded me, and I look forward to the journey ahead, step by step, in faithful partnership. My understanding is that the Oak Ridge Unitarian Universalist Church has never ordained a minister. Just think, we have history to make!
Below, I have included below a poem that was part of my spiritual reading a few weeks ago.
In faithful partnership,
Tandy
from THE HEART OF LEARNING: SPIRITUALITY IN EDUCATION
edited by Steven Glazer
He asks me a question I’ve never considered before.
When is it that you know you have to go someplace else?
At first I think I don’t know, don’t go, never have, just try to please,
do what’s expected, bloom where I’m planted.
But then the answer germinates in the soil of my mind.
I see a potted plant, roots protruding from the drainage hole
in the bottom, ready to go, bursting to grow.
After weeks or months or years of putting its root system down,
of consolidating its power, husbanding its resources, it has reached
a crisis point, lost its equilibrium, has to go, has to grow.
I run down to the cellar and root around for a larger pot,
A little larger only, so my vulnerable plant won’t wilt in the
Unstructured vastness of a new world without apparent walls.
I have to smash the old pot to rescue my restless plant,
Impacted root system now naked in my hand. A small sacrifice,
but a radical operation to deliver the plant from death.
Without the space to grow, it will shrivel and die.
When is it that I know I have to go someplace else?
When I have to grow or die.
By Diana Chapman Walsh
written at a retreat with Parker Palmer who is the “he” in the poem.
In the following weeks, I piddled around with my thoughts about ministry and eventually set them aside. I did not personally know any female ministers. The college I was attending on full honorary scholarship did not even offer a major in religious studies. The idea of pursuing the ministry would have demanded that I push boundaries and go into unknown territory. I was not ready.
So, I became a teacher and poured myself into my work. I taught in public schools for fourteen years. I also became involved in religious education at the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church. I taught religious education and served on and chaired the Religious Education Committee. I also served on the Board and lead the Caring Team of the church. Meanwhile, Peter and I became parents, and I stayed home during Ben’s and Sam’s early years. During those years, I served on Search Committees for Directors of Religious Education. I began to sense that this was work I would love when the time was right for our family.
In 1997, this church, the Oak Ridge Unitarian Universalist Church, was searching for a half-time religious educator. I applied and was hired on the spot—virtually during my job interview! (I found this very puzzling until years later I learned that I was the only person who had applied!) From the first day on the job until today, I have loved my work and thrived as a religious educator. I believe it is work I was meant to do. I also believe it is work I was meant to do in this place and with these people. I have found the work to be rewarding and meaningful not just because of its nature but because of the people that I have known and served and worked beside and come to love.
In the fall of 2007, I was credentialed as a Master Level Religious Educator. I took several on-line seminary courses in order to meet the credentialing requirements, and I completed an extensive list of required reading. I thoroughly enjoyed all that I learned. My love for my work deepened as a result of understanding the work more deeply.
In December 2008, when Jake began his five-month sabbatical, he made arrangements for me to lead most of the Celebration Services. We were just beginning these services, and they did not fit the format that a visiting minister would expect. Unexpectedly, these services became a highlight of my week. While I knew that I could speak effectively and was capable of leading meaningful worship, I had not yet met the Preacher in me. The homilies I shared in Celebration services tended come from a deep place inside me, and they seemed to meet people where they were and invite them into a deeper place as well.
After Jake’s return, I thought about whether to pursue ministry and discussed this with him. I knew the pull was there for me, but I also felt conflicted. I am a religious educator in the very core of my being, and I needed to discern whether becoming a minister would be deserting my religious educator center or honoring it. I was reassured by colleagues that Unitarian Universalism needs ministers with strong backgrounds in religious education. Eventually, I came to realize that my choice was to either lean into ministry or hold myself back.
In November, 2009, I made the choice to lean in. I believe in my soul that this path toward ministry is right for me at this time. I plan to continue my work as the religious educator at the Oak Ridge Unitarian Universalist Church while fulfilling the requirements to become a fellowshipped Unitarian Universalist minister. The process will take me several years.
I want to be very clear that I have no desire to become a minister in order to move on to a new setting and a new bigger better career. I have grown into ministry right here, and I see this as a joint journey for the congregation and me. Jake says that ministers grow out of healthy and strong churches, and that has been my experience here. I deeply appreciate all of the opportunities that this church has afforded me, and I look forward to the journey ahead, step by step, in faithful partnership. My understanding is that the Oak Ridge Unitarian Universalist Church has never ordained a minister. Just think, we have history to make!
Below, I have included below a poem that was part of my spiritual reading a few weeks ago.
In faithful partnership,
Tandy
from THE HEART OF LEARNING: SPIRITUALITY IN EDUCATION
edited by Steven Glazer
He asks me a question I’ve never considered before.
When is it that you know you have to go someplace else?
At first I think I don’t know, don’t go, never have, just try to please,
do what’s expected, bloom where I’m planted.
But then the answer germinates in the soil of my mind.
I see a potted plant, roots protruding from the drainage hole
in the bottom, ready to go, bursting to grow.
After weeks or months or years of putting its root system down,
of consolidating its power, husbanding its resources, it has reached
a crisis point, lost its equilibrium, has to go, has to grow.
I run down to the cellar and root around for a larger pot,
A little larger only, so my vulnerable plant won’t wilt in the
Unstructured vastness of a new world without apparent walls.
I have to smash the old pot to rescue my restless plant,
Impacted root system now naked in my hand. A small sacrifice,
but a radical operation to deliver the plant from death.
Without the space to grow, it will shrivel and die.
When is it that I know I have to go someplace else?
When I have to grow or die.
By Diana Chapman Walsh
written at a retreat with Parker Palmer who is the “he” in the poem.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
