"The Next Scary Thing: The Call Sermon"
Back in the fall,
George Yenoki and I were talking about
the contract to call process that we are in.
George casually said,
“Oh, and you’ll need to preach a candidating sermon sometime in the spring.”
I was a little surprised.
Typically, when a congregation is in search for a called, settled minister,
the process is a year or two long.
There’s a search committee that works long hours
during that year,
looking at ministers
from all over the United States.
The search team winnows down the possible candidates
until only one is left,
and then that one minister
spends a week with the church community,
getting to know people,
talking about her hopes and dreams,
finding out as much as she can
about the group of people
that she may commit to.
And she gets two Sunday services,
at either end of that week,
to wow and amaze the congregation
with her prophetic preaching,
graceful leading of worship,
and compelling vision for the future.
That week is the Candidating Week,
and hence the sermons are her
candidating sermons.
It’s a pretty intense process,
for congregation and the minister.
It’s a good one,
and most matches are successful.
But when George reminded me that I, too,
am supposed to preach my own candidating sermon,
one that will wow and amaze you with my
prophetic preaching,
graceful leading of worship,
and compelling vision for the future,
I thought,
“Oh my,
they’ve already heard me
for five years.”
I thought,
“Those dear souls, many of them,
have heard the best and worst of my sermons.
They’ve seen me miss cues,
forget to light the chalice,
roll right through the choir anthem.
They’ve seen and heard it all from me.”
There’s probably not a lot that I’ll say today that will surprise you.
And honestly, I doubt there is too much that you all will share
in your small group visioning conversations that will surprise me.
Assuming we say Yes to each other on March 19,
we know who and what we are saying Yes to.
A good number of ministers,
once they are in year five of a ministry,
start polishing up their resume
and begin planning to go into search for a new congregation
around year 6 or 7.
There are many reasons for that.
One is because their first church may be
a stepping stone church,
to hone their skills for a bigger one.
Another is because there was significant conflict,
and they are tired and need a fresh start.
Or just because they feel like they’ve done what they were called to do,
and they are eager for new challenges and opportunities.
But I’m not feeling that way at all.
My hope and dream and goal
is to be really and truly settled at Throop,
for the next 15 years.
I feel like the good ministry we’ve done together over the last five years
set us up really well to continue to work together
to realize that vision of a church
put forth by James Luther Adams
in our responsive reading this morning:
(A congregation) that protects and nourishes
integrity and spiritual freedom;
that yearns to belong to the church universal;
(one) open to insight and conscience from every source;
bursting through rigid tradition,
giving rise to new and living language,
to new and broader fellowship.
It is a pilgrim church, a servant church, on an adventure of the spirit.
The goal is the prophethood and priesthood of all believers,
the one for the liberty of prophesying,
the other for the ministry of healing.
(adapted for flow of reading) (1)
That is the church I see us actively, faithfully,
building and sustaining together.
When George reminded me that I needed to do
a candidating sermon,
I decided to call it “The Next Scary Thing.”
Mainly because at the time I assumed
I’d be able to identify something
in the process of us committing to each other
that would feel nerve-wracking or fearful.
But try as I might …
and I have tried these last couple of weeks,
I couldn’t find one scary issue rising to the service.
Sometimes when ministers get stuck while exploring a sermon idea,
we look up key words in the dictionary.
So I did that,
and I found a definition that delighted me.
“Uncannily striking or surprising,”
and the sentence they gave to put the definition in context:
“It was scary the way they bonded with each other.”
And that’s how I feel about us.
There was no way of knowing how this would go
when we started our ministry relationship five years ago,
getting to know one other,
learning to trust,
tentatively doing the dance of ministry together.
But we ended up being an uncanny, striking and surprisingly wonderful match.
In preparing for this morning,
I went back and looked at the worship service
from my first official Sunday with you.
One of the questions I asked you that day was,
“What are we moving toward?”
We have moved toward so many things since that time.
We dedicated our beautiful learning garden,
and won a City of Pasadena Urban Nature award,
and brought that commitment to earth into our liturgy
through our Promise to Our Planet.
We started our Thirty Days for the Earth program,
leading up to Earth Day Sunday,
which has grown every year,
and this year we received a $3000 grant
from the UUA for the programming.
Our Kids Dig In! program is blossoming
under the care of our parents and non-parent volunteers,
and we transformed a room into their space,
The Sophia Room.
We painted the kitchen,
and re-did all the staff offices
and renovated what is now The Emerson Lounge.
Catherine brought stability and creativity and care
into our music program.
We got engaged in social justice outside the four walls of our church,
and we’ve shown up at city hall and in the community
so many times that now we are known, once again,
as part of the “usual suspects,”
that church that always shows up.
We created a church Covenant of Right Relations,
right-sized the Board,
instituted a Second Sunday Luncheon,
and continued favorite programs like
Sunday morning video discussion
and Thursday afternoon book club.
There’s an Elders Luncheon,
a 20s & 30s Group,
a Pastoral Care Team,
Covenant groups,
a Women’s Sacred Circle
and Social Justice Book Group.
We’ve pursued these things as a way to
nourish integrity and spiritual freedom;
we’ve been open to new and living language,
new and broader fellowship.
We have been a pilgrim church,
and a servant church.
All of this that we’ve done together
has been immensely satisfying and meaningful to me.
And fun.
It’s been an adventure of the spirit.
When I started, one of my ministry goals
was helping you to become a healthy and sustainable church,
that could one day support a called minister,
whether that was me or someone else.
And now, we have gotten there.
I’m proud of us.
After March 19,
after we’ve celebrated,
and enjoyed vegan chocolate cake,
and laughed and maybe even danced…
We will need to seriously consider that question anew,
the one I asked you on July 16, 2012 …
What are we moving toward, together?
My hope is we take a cue from
that same Adams passage.
The two strongest pieces of my vision for our next five years
is that we focus on our ministry of healing,
and our liberty of prophesying.
Or, the priesthood and prophethood
of all believers.
In her book Traveling Mercies, Anne LaMott describes
her experience of her church:
When I was at the end of my rope,
the people in my church tied a knot in it for me and helped me hold on.
The church became my home in the old meaning of home -
that it's where, when you show up, they have to let you in.
They let me in.
They even said,
you come back now…. (2)
One of you described something similar about Throop,
when you said to me, “This is a place that knows how to love.”
My overarching hope for us in the next five years
is that we learn how to do that even better.
We continue our culture of taking people as they are.
And … when words are used to harm,
or when disappointments occur,
because these things do happen,
we learn techniques for talking directly to one another,
for dealing with conflict in a healthy way,
for communicating compassionately
We don’t come to church to find a place where everyone is perfect,
and no one messes up or makes mistakes,
but where we hang on to each other through them.
And while we are caring for each other,
and for ourselves,
I want us to be a prophetic church
deeply engaged in the sacred resistance.
Our congregation is one in a long line of Unitarian & Universalist,
and other progressive denominations,
who have stood against hate and intolerance,
and for love and freedom.
This week, my friend Rev. Patrick McLaughlin
posted these words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer,
a German Lutheran pastor and anti-nazi dissident:
"...there are three possible ways
in which the church can act toward the state:
The first, it can ask the state whether its actions are legitimate
and in accordance with its character as state,
i.e., it can throw back on the state its responsibilities.
Second, it can aid the victims of state action.
The church has an unconditional obligation
to the victims of any ordering of society,
even if they do not belong to the Christian community.
'Do good to all people.'
In both these courses of action,
the church serves the free state in its free way,
and at times when laws are changed
the church may in no way withdraw itself
from these two tasks.
The third possibility is not just to bandage the victims under the wheel,
but to jam a spoke in the wheel itself."
And my friend summed that up like this:
Question.
Aid.
Resist.
Be a spoke jammer.
A few years ago,
our congregation went through a visioning process.
The facilitator asked the group,
When someone drives by Throop, and says,
“Oh, that’s Throop - those are the people who …”
fill in the blank.
In five years,
when someone drives or walks or rides their bike by Throop,
I want them to say:
“Throop! It’s scary good the way those people
are so warm and welcoming when you walk in the door!”
“Throop! It’s scary amazing how they are at the hub of environmental activism in Pasadena.”
“Throop! It’s scary cool how they engage in meaningful spiritual practices
and offer classes on meditation and yoga to the whole community.”
“Throop! It is scary inspiring how they were pivotal in the sacred resistance
of 2017, opening their doors to events
and asking their people to organize.”
“Throop! It’s scary the way they are bonded with each other,
and yet always open the circle wider to include new people.”
“Throop! Have you noticed how their minister and the congregation
walk side by side, but always in single file;
the minister out in front
yet always walking next to her people?”
May we always be a place of peace,
where silence can heal your spirit.
May we continue to be a place of memory,
where our history can warm your soul.
May we always be a place of prophecy and power.
Let our vision change your heart. (3)
1. Adams, James Luther. “I Call That Church Free,” reading in Singing the Living Tradition.
2. LaMott, Anne. Traveling Mercies. Pantheon Books, New York. 1999. p.100.
3. Words from the morning's chalice lighting reading by the Rev. Dr. William F. Schulz.
George Yenoki and I were talking about
the contract to call process that we are in.
George casually said,
“Oh, and you’ll need to preach a candidating sermon sometime in the spring.”
I was a little surprised.
Typically, when a congregation is in search for a called, settled minister,
the process is a year or two long.
There’s a search committee that works long hours
during that year,
looking at ministers
from all over the United States.
The search team winnows down the possible candidates
until only one is left,
and then that one minister
spends a week with the church community,
getting to know people,
talking about her hopes and dreams,
finding out as much as she can
about the group of people
that she may commit to.
And she gets two Sunday services,
at either end of that week,
to wow and amaze the congregation
with her prophetic preaching,
graceful leading of worship,
and compelling vision for the future.
That week is the Candidating Week,
and hence the sermons are her
candidating sermons.
It’s a pretty intense process,
for congregation and the minister.
It’s a good one,
and most matches are successful.
But when George reminded me that I, too,
am supposed to preach my own candidating sermon,
one that will wow and amaze you with my
prophetic preaching,
graceful leading of worship,
and compelling vision for the future,
I thought,
“Oh my,
they’ve already heard me
for five years.”
I thought,
“Those dear souls, many of them,
have heard the best and worst of my sermons.
They’ve seen me miss cues,
forget to light the chalice,
roll right through the choir anthem.
They’ve seen and heard it all from me.”
There’s probably not a lot that I’ll say today that will surprise you.
And honestly, I doubt there is too much that you all will share
in your small group visioning conversations that will surprise me.
Assuming we say Yes to each other on March 19,
we know who and what we are saying Yes to.
A good number of ministers,
once they are in year five of a ministry,
start polishing up their resume
and begin planning to go into search for a new congregation
around year 6 or 7.
There are many reasons for that.
One is because their first church may be
a stepping stone church,
to hone their skills for a bigger one.
Another is because there was significant conflict,
and they are tired and need a fresh start.
Or just because they feel like they’ve done what they were called to do,
and they are eager for new challenges and opportunities.
But I’m not feeling that way at all.
My hope and dream and goal
is to be really and truly settled at Throop,
for the next 15 years.
I feel like the good ministry we’ve done together over the last five years
set us up really well to continue to work together
to realize that vision of a church
put forth by James Luther Adams
in our responsive reading this morning:
(A congregation) that protects and nourishes
integrity and spiritual freedom;
that yearns to belong to the church universal;
(one) open to insight and conscience from every source;
bursting through rigid tradition,
giving rise to new and living language,
to new and broader fellowship.
It is a pilgrim church, a servant church, on an adventure of the spirit.
The goal is the prophethood and priesthood of all believers,
the one for the liberty of prophesying,
the other for the ministry of healing.
(adapted for flow of reading) (1)
That is the church I see us actively, faithfully,
building and sustaining together.
When George reminded me that I needed to do
a candidating sermon,
I decided to call it “The Next Scary Thing.”
Mainly because at the time I assumed
I’d be able to identify something
in the process of us committing to each other
that would feel nerve-wracking or fearful.
But try as I might …
and I have tried these last couple of weeks,
I couldn’t find one scary issue rising to the service.
Sometimes when ministers get stuck while exploring a sermon idea,
we look up key words in the dictionary.
So I did that,
and I found a definition that delighted me.
“Uncannily striking or surprising,”
and the sentence they gave to put the definition in context:
“It was scary the way they bonded with each other.”
And that’s how I feel about us.
There was no way of knowing how this would go
when we started our ministry relationship five years ago,
getting to know one other,
learning to trust,
tentatively doing the dance of ministry together.
But we ended up being an uncanny, striking and surprisingly wonderful match.
In preparing for this morning,
I went back and looked at the worship service
from my first official Sunday with you.
One of the questions I asked you that day was,
“What are we moving toward?”
We have moved toward so many things since that time.
We dedicated our beautiful learning garden,
and won a City of Pasadena Urban Nature award,
and brought that commitment to earth into our liturgy
through our Promise to Our Planet.
We started our Thirty Days for the Earth program,
leading up to Earth Day Sunday,
which has grown every year,
and this year we received a $3000 grant
from the UUA for the programming.
Our Kids Dig In! program is blossoming
under the care of our parents and non-parent volunteers,
and we transformed a room into their space,
The Sophia Room.
We painted the kitchen,
and re-did all the staff offices
and renovated what is now The Emerson Lounge.
Catherine brought stability and creativity and care
into our music program.
We got engaged in social justice outside the four walls of our church,
and we’ve shown up at city hall and in the community
so many times that now we are known, once again,
as part of the “usual suspects,”
that church that always shows up.
We created a church Covenant of Right Relations,
right-sized the Board,
instituted a Second Sunday Luncheon,
and continued favorite programs like
Sunday morning video discussion
and Thursday afternoon book club.
There’s an Elders Luncheon,
a 20s & 30s Group,
a Pastoral Care Team,
Covenant groups,
a Women’s Sacred Circle
and Social Justice Book Group.
We’ve pursued these things as a way to
nourish integrity and spiritual freedom;
we’ve been open to new and living language,
new and broader fellowship.
We have been a pilgrim church,
and a servant church.
All of this that we’ve done together
has been immensely satisfying and meaningful to me.
And fun.
It’s been an adventure of the spirit.
When I started, one of my ministry goals
was helping you to become a healthy and sustainable church,
that could one day support a called minister,
whether that was me or someone else.
And now, we have gotten there.
I’m proud of us.
After March 19,
after we’ve celebrated,
and enjoyed vegan chocolate cake,
and laughed and maybe even danced…
We will need to seriously consider that question anew,
the one I asked you on July 16, 2012 …
What are we moving toward, together?
My hope is we take a cue from
that same Adams passage.
The two strongest pieces of my vision for our next five years
is that we focus on our ministry of healing,
and our liberty of prophesying.
Or, the priesthood and prophethood
of all believers.
In her book Traveling Mercies, Anne LaMott describes
her experience of her church:
When I was at the end of my rope,
the people in my church tied a knot in it for me and helped me hold on.
The church became my home in the old meaning of home -
that it's where, when you show up, they have to let you in.
They let me in.
They even said,
you come back now…. (2)
One of you described something similar about Throop,
when you said to me, “This is a place that knows how to love.”
My overarching hope for us in the next five years
is that we learn how to do that even better.
We continue our culture of taking people as they are.
And … when words are used to harm,
or when disappointments occur,
because these things do happen,
we learn techniques for talking directly to one another,
for dealing with conflict in a healthy way,
for communicating compassionately
We don’t come to church to find a place where everyone is perfect,
and no one messes up or makes mistakes,
but where we hang on to each other through them.
And while we are caring for each other,
and for ourselves,
I want us to be a prophetic church
deeply engaged in the sacred resistance.
Our congregation is one in a long line of Unitarian & Universalist,
and other progressive denominations,
who have stood against hate and intolerance,
and for love and freedom.
This week, my friend Rev. Patrick McLaughlin
posted these words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer,
a German Lutheran pastor and anti-nazi dissident:
"...there are three possible ways
in which the church can act toward the state:
The first, it can ask the state whether its actions are legitimate
and in accordance with its character as state,
i.e., it can throw back on the state its responsibilities.
Second, it can aid the victims of state action.
The church has an unconditional obligation
to the victims of any ordering of society,
even if they do not belong to the Christian community.
'Do good to all people.'
In both these courses of action,
the church serves the free state in its free way,
and at times when laws are changed
the church may in no way withdraw itself
from these two tasks.
The third possibility is not just to bandage the victims under the wheel,
but to jam a spoke in the wheel itself."
And my friend summed that up like this:
Question.
Aid.
Resist.
Be a spoke jammer.
A few years ago,
our congregation went through a visioning process.
The facilitator asked the group,
When someone drives by Throop, and says,
“Oh, that’s Throop - those are the people who …”
fill in the blank.
In five years,
when someone drives or walks or rides their bike by Throop,
I want them to say:
“Throop! It’s scary good the way those people
are so warm and welcoming when you walk in the door!”
“Throop! It’s scary amazing how they are at the hub of environmental activism in Pasadena.”
“Throop! It’s scary cool how they engage in meaningful spiritual practices
and offer classes on meditation and yoga to the whole community.”
“Throop! It is scary inspiring how they were pivotal in the sacred resistance
of 2017, opening their doors to events
and asking their people to organize.”
“Throop! It’s scary the way they are bonded with each other,
and yet always open the circle wider to include new people.”
“Throop! Have you noticed how their minister and the congregation
walk side by side, but always in single file;
the minister out in front
yet always walking next to her people?”
May we always be a place of peace,
where silence can heal your spirit.
May we continue to be a place of memory,
where our history can warm your soul.
May we always be a place of prophecy and power.
Let our vision change your heart. (3)
1. Adams, James Luther. “I Call That Church Free,” reading in Singing the Living Tradition.
2. LaMott, Anne. Traveling Mercies. Pantheon Books, New York. 1999. p.100.
3. Words from the morning's chalice lighting reading by the Rev. Dr. William F. Schulz.