What Do I Need a Church For, Anyway? 
October 24, 2004


Notice that the title is framed in the first person singular: "What's in it for me? What do I need a church for, anyway? What personal needs do I have that a church can meet?" And this is, in fact, the place that each of us starts. We come to a religious community and we bring our needs with us: our need to find sympathetic listeners, because all of us want to be heard; to answer our deeper longings and maybe even find out what those longings are, if we haven't asked ourselves; to understand old hurts.

We come to a religious community to heal wounds, spiritual wounds. So many people come to Unitarian Universalism because of the traditions they have been in where they have felt spiritually wounded, where they have felt that who they are has not been valued by the religious community of their childhood. Or to heal emotional interpersonal wounds relationships that have been fragmented and painful. Or to heal social wounds the wounds of being outside of the mainstream culture, of finding yourself oppressed or discriminated against. Or to resolve intellectual confusions, which all of us have in abundance, and long for a place where we can put out our questions and not feel stupid for doing so. This is such a place.

In our chalice-lighting words (Singing the Living Tradition #444), Kenneth Patton gives us some more information about what it is a church will enable us to find to meet our needs. It is "a house of friendships." We do hope to make friends here, and my sense is that people here in this room have found opportunities for abiding friendships in this community.

"A haven in trouble." I think particularly today of Leslie and Harriet who are in the hospital. We're keeping them in our thoughts and prayers as a community. We plan to visit them when they're bored enough and well enough to be ready to see visitors to take meals to them, to serve as pastor to them and not just the official "paid professional minister," but each one of us serves as pastor to one another.

"An open room for the encouragement of our struggle." There are lots of struggles in our lives. We discover those every single Sunday when we light our candles of concern and celebration. Struggles against discouragement and depression and despair. Struggles about relationships with our children, our spouses, our parents, our friends or neighbors or co-workers. With our jobs or vocations. Struggles for greater justice in the world.

This is "a house of freedom," and "a platform for the free voice, for declaring the. . . full and undivided conflict of opinion." This is an unusual aspect to lift up in congregations and church life. We like to think that churches are havens of calm and peace and no disagreement at all. That has not been our experience as a religious tradition or our experience as a congregation. We recognize that as different people, we will bring our own viewpoints together here. So this is a platform for people to declare their viewpoints, even if they conflict. It's a place where we can disagree, we hope, without being disagreeable, where differences don't divide, where opinions conflict but people maintain an inner connection with one another nonetheless. How rare this is in our culture, and how valuable.

This is all well and good, but to answer this question in the first person singular doesn't exhaust the issue. The Fellowship certainly does exist to meet individual needs, but it doesn't exist only to meet individual needs. So the second question might be "What do we need a church for, anyway?" "What do we need a church for, anyway?" And the "we" is all of us in this room, and all of us in this part of San Diego, and all of us in California, and in the nation, and all of us in the world. A clue to this question comes in David Blanchard's opening words to us: "to make community." ("A Call to Worship" in A Temporary State of Grace, Skinner House Books, 1997, p.4) What comes out first in every survey we've ever done of Summitarians is that we are in the business of making community.

At recent garden parties, group events with other Summitarians ranked the highest of all current programs that people mentioned as important to them. Opportunities for people to come together with one another, whether for learning or for fun. Community belonging to a group of people that we like, most of the time; that we respect and appreciate all of the time. Reaching out to others and having them reach back. Making a community.

"To create beauty." At our recent garden parties we also asked a question, "What do you most want to take place or experience in our new building?" Nineteen people said that they wanted more beauty in our worship space. I know it would be hard to imagine more beauty than we have here! We try. I think that Vivienne has done a spectacular job today, with a very simple but wonderful arrangement in front. It doesn't take a lot to create beauty. We've tried with the fabric panels on the walls, and there will be continuing efforts to do this, but there's a longing for creating more beauty, and the church is one of those places that we're committed to that work.

"To bend it toward justice." Community outreach and social justice programs also rated high in the garden parties. It was the second most exciting thing that many of you could envision, after having a home of our own. Our religious tradition is one that puts principles into practice, that walks its talk, that tries to make a difference in the world. A couple of weeks ago, or maybe it was last week, we had a sharing of ideas for social action. This is a concern the congregation has and holds in high regard.

"To serve its ideals." We value freedom of thought and the use of reason in religion, tolerance for diverse understanding and all of our seven principles. The garden parties identified as high priorities serving diverse and traditionally disenfranchised people, folks whom many in our society would just as soon ignore, banish or oppress: gay, lesbian, bisexual , transgender people, people of color, atheists, and freethinkers.

The work of serving our ideals can be contentious work. Here's a story about a congregation of ours in Chicago in the 1950's. (From Our Chosen Faith, Beacon Press, 1989, p. 65 ff) This is a story involving James Luther Adams, one of our major scholars, but also a dedicated church leader who was serving on the board of First Unitarian Church. The minister had been outspoken about issues of racial justice in the local environment. One night at a meeting from which the minister was absent, one of the trustees began to complain, suggesting that this talk of racial justice was politics, not religion and it shouldn't be talked about from the pulpit at all, that it was alienating people, including him and his wife, that the minister of a church ought to be more realistic, and that ideals ought to be preached from the pulpit, but not in a way that would in any way make anybody feel they ought to change their lives.

"When he lapsed into racial slurs, his fellow trustees, including Adams, interrupted.

"What is the purpose of the church?" they asked. Did he want the church only to make people comfortable? Only to confirm them in their prejudices and not morally challenge them?"

"'Well, no,' the so-called realist admitted.

"'Then what is the purpose of the church?' the others kept asking.

"'How should I know?' the man said. 'I'm no theologian.'

"'But you're a member here, and a trustee of this church.' said Adams and the others, refusing to let him off the hook.

"As Adams tells the story, the discussion continued until about one o'clock, when fatigue combined with the Holy Spirit, and the man blurted out, 'Well, I guess the purpose of a church is, uh, to get hold of people like me and to change 'em!'

"One trustee of an evangelical background suggested that before they adjourn, they rise and sing together 'Amazing Grace! how sweet the sound. . . I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see.'" (Our Chosen Faith, pp. 65-66)

Serving our ideals is not easy work. It can be contentious work, but it is crucial work. Blanchard goes on to talk about "honoring our past," the people who have gone before, and this includes people of our own congregation, people like John Carey, who gave so much of himself in our early years; Virginia Spiller who contributed so much to our building fund, and we even had auction items last night. People like Des Pengelley, who left such a warm legacy of greeting. Sylvia Altman, the giver of our sign covers, and things that people had no idea she did. And others we will remember next week at our Day of the Dead service.

Also from our history as a liberal religious movement, thinkers who challenged the doctrine of the Trinity, or the election of some to salvation and others to damnation, abolitionists, the champions of women's suffrage, civil rights activists, environmentalists, champions of civil marriage for gay men and for lesbians. We honor our past by walking further than they were able to walk in the path of justice, "invigorating our present." The garden parties identified a host of concerns that people have about support for volunteers in the congregation, about growth and change and worship and music, about adult programs, about growing more spiritually, about reaching out to youth and young adults. We have a lot of work to do to invigorate our present and to dream our future. We spent a lot of time doing that over the last several years. We've had a lot of good ideas, and I think there's a readiness now to make those dreams real, to become more whole.

What we all strive for is "wholeness," the same root as "health." We strive to be whole as individuals and as a healthy UU community. So what do we need the church for, anyway? All of these! To build community. To create beauty. To bend toward justice. To serve our ideals. To honor our past. To invigorate our present. To dream and to realize our future. To become more whole.

And how are we going to pull this all off? Well, I think one way is shared ministry. Now I know that sometimes a church feels like shared business or shared over-commitment or shared exhaustion, and I can see some of that today after the auction, but the goal is shared ministry. Bearing one another's burdens and benefitting from one anther's gifts, helping each of us to figure out what those gifts are. To deepen our spirit. To enrich our lives. And to have a sense of participating in something that is life-changing, not only for us but for the world. Something that is greater than ourselves is something we're working on.

Shared ministry is shared power. The minister has a significant roll to play in sharing power. My job as spiritual leader is to preach in a way that encourages you to go deeper within yourselvesto seek ways of expressing your deepest convictions and the implications that they have for how you live and how you put your faith into action and to support lay leadership in leading this congregation.

The board has a significant role to play in power sharing. First in providing institutional leadership, overseeing the creation and the maintenance of systems that will help each one of us to discern and develop our gifts for shared ministry.

And each one of you has a significant role to play in power sharing as well, and that role is to share your gifts. Earlier this month twelve of us attended a workshop at First Church, "Created and Called" by Jean Morris Trunbauer. She speaks out of a Christian context, and her basic assumption is as follows: that "we are all called to use our gifts to share in God's ongoing creative and redemptive activity on earth and to grow toward wholeness in the process. The mission of the church is to facilitate this process." (Sharing the Ministry, by Jean Morris Trumbauer, p.26)

"Creative and redemptive activity." Whether or not God plays a factor for you in that, there is a question for each of us as to whether we believe there is creative and redemptive activity going on in this world, and whether we are connected and attached to that work.

The church is a place where we are invited to be partners in that work of creative and redemptive activity. In our tradition, we will bring a variety of different ways of framing that. For some it will be partnering with God on that work. For others it will be partnering with one another in that work. Our challenge is to get beyond the divisions of language about God or no God in order to put our shoulders to the wheel of actually doing this creative and redemptive work. I, for one, believe that being a part of this stream of creative and redemptive activity is our common calling as members of this Unitarian Universalist movement, this tradition, and this congregation. That's what ministry is, that's what I've chosen to give my life to, and what we're all challenged to embrace

"Creative and called" talks about each of us having a unique set of gifts that we bring, and our gifts are not just the things we're good at or the things we've been praised for, our natural talents. Our hurts and our wounds can be just as much gifts for ministry. Our bodies, with their capabilities and limitations, are gifts for ministry. Our aspirations, the things we've always wanted to do but have never been encouraged to do or never had the courage to take up, can be gifts for ministry. Each of us has a vocation, a calling, in ministry.

In the words of Frederick Buechner, "this vocation is the place where your deep gladness and the world's hunger meet." "Where your deep gladness and the world's hunger meet." Your need, your longing to express what floats your boat, what makes you feel useful and satisfied, will intersect somewhere with a need or longing or hunger beyond yourself, in this community, in your place of work, your neighborhood, your city, your state, the nation, the world. Finding that place of intersection and helping you find a good way to make a meaningful contributionthat's the task for the church that takes "gifts" and "calling" seriously.

So we're going to be working on that this year, the process of helping each of us and all of us discern what our gifts are and what our calling might be. I suspect that many of you regard ministry as what the professional minister does, what you pay me to do. Part of our discernment is to determine the place where all of our deep gladness and the world's hungers meet, not just mine, not just the paid minister.

I bring to the work, of course, my own passions. I'm passionate about music; I'm passionate about economic justice; I'm passionate about nurturing our children and youth; I'm passionate about building a community of radical hospitality; I'm passionate about empowering each one of you to engage fully in the ministries to which you are called. I'm passionate about upholding and embodying liberal religious values in this time and place. Especially in this time and place, when they are so under assault. I'm passionate about doing all that I do in a spirit of love and with that positive energy called joy.

We need to engage in deeper conversations this year about the ministries this fellowship is committed to and the ways in which we will minister to one another, and the ways in which each of us can develop our own ministerial callings.

Last night's auction seems to me a microcosm of what it is we are talking about. For last night's auction was good ministry. That was true for each person who contributed something, for the people who made the centerpieces, who donated items, for the people who made those unbelievable desserts which I am still enjoying [Laughter], who set the room up, who put the sound system together and provided computer support, who were auctioneers, who cashiered, who bartended, who were emcees, who provided transportation, who cleaned up, who planned the whole shebang. These were works of ministering to one another. They were not just jobs. They were works of ministering to one another, and that was evident in the event which was such a joyful event. And which raised money for this congregation to continue to strengthen its vital ministry.

I hope that all of you who participated in that event felt the satisfaction of doing this ministry work together.

So, to conclude, what do we need a church for anyway? Ultimately, I think Mark Morrison-Reed, minister in Toronto, summarizes it best. As he said in our opening words:

"The central task of the religious community is to unveil the bonds that bind each to all. There is a connectedness, a relationship discovered amidst the particulars of our own lives and the lives of others. Once felt, it inspires us to act for justice. "It is the church that assures us," he goes on "that we are not struggling for justice on our own, but as members of a larger community. The religious community is essential, for alone our vision is too narrow to see all that must be seen, and our strength too limited to do all that must be done. Together, our vision widens and our strength is renewed." (Singing the Living Tradition #580)

We come here each week to "unveil the bonds that bind each to all," to experience connection with one other in this community. This inspires us to act in our lives for justice. In our own personal lives and family lives and in the world at large." This is hard work. Without the support of a caring community it can also be very lonely work. In the words of one of my ministerial colleagues, "We're here to savor the world but also to save it." And we're always caught in the tension between those two, savoring or saving. Saving or savoring. We need the church to help us live faithfully, authentically, and fruitfully in the tension between savoring the world and saving it.

"Alone our vision is too narrow, our strength too limited. Together our vision widens and our strength is renewed." Alone we risk missing the inner connection that's at the heart of our being human. Together we can join our strength with others to change the world for the better. And to find, to our surprise, great joy and satisfaction in doing so.

So may it be. Shalom. Blessed be. Inshah Allah'. Aho! Namaste. Amen.

--Rev. Ned Wight
October 24, 2004
(Transcribed by Dolores Moore)