Sermon given by Joshua Goulet, January 22, 2023.
I can remember my first day as a chaplain at the hospital. Myself and my fellow chaplain interns sat around in a circle with our educator and stared at the whiteboard. Our educator, Fr. Ed Frost, wrote two lists of the various nursing units throughout the hospital. He asked us, “Where do you want to serve?” The options made me go blank: emergency, ICU, behavioral health, oncology, medical/surgical and maternity were our various options. When the cards fell, I signed up for both maternity/neonatal as well as one of the behavioral health units. WIth the units chosen, Fr. Ed looked at us and said, “Alright, you have your assignments, off you go!”
We all looked back at him with astonishment. He expected us to just go off? And see people? And talk to them? How would I do that?
He brought me into the office and pointed to a paper in the printer. It was a referral for a patient on St. Dymphna’s, the behavioral health unit I was assigned to. He told me what to do. First, go to the floor. Second, ring the phone and ask to be let onto the unit. Third, show the nurse the referral and ask to see the patient. So I did just that and it happened just as he foretold. Next thing I knew, I was sitting in a room with a patient. We sat and talked for an hour. After he left, he said to some other patients as they walked away, “You know, that chaplain guy was nice. If you need to talk, he’ll listen.” That was it. I knew what I needed to do. I knew where I needed to be. My life would never be the same again.
Just as an aside, I can see my wife laughing in her thoughts right now. Each time I tell this story, I can hear her memory of my getting into the hospital. I did not want to go. I was petrified. I hated the healthcare system out of pure fear. I only chose the psychiatric floors because there were less needles, beeps and boops. I almost quit before my first day just out of sheer panic. It was my family that kept pushing me to hold to my word. And I am glad they did. What I was afraid of most turned into the answer to one of the deepest callings I’ve ever felt.
For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Josh and I am a chaplain at a local hospital. I am also a layperson and member of this church. With this month’s theme being “beloved community” it felt right to talk about community ministry. In fact, we are approaching what is traditionally celebrated as “Community Ministry Sunday” as the first Sunday in February. So, it felt natural to have Community Ministry Sunday celebrated as part of the theme this month.
So what is community ministry? What makes it different from other types of ministry? Rev. Dr. Dorothy May Emerson defines community ministry as, “any ministry that seeks to bring healing and justice into the world beyond the individual congregation…” She continues to say that, “Community Ministers proclaim to the world by their visible presence that the church is engaged with the world.” The hope of the community ministry is to bring the work of the church to the people outside the church, to those in need. The work of healing. The work of justice. And that work can be done by everyone.
The history of community ministry is one that has not been told enough. Though, lately it has been gaining some interest, I will grant that. When one looks up Unitarian and Universalist Community Ministry the name that will invariably be connected to it is Reverend Joseph Tuckerman. Tuckerman is often cited as the very first UU community minister. He did his ministry down the road apiece in Boston and was specifically ordained to be a “minister-at-large.” Tuckerman worked with the homeless, the economically downtrodden, and the youth to try and improve their quality of life. He did really amazing work which brought healing and justice still felt to these days.
His designation as the first community minister is only half true. He is the first person on record as being ordained to the clergy with a calling to be a “minister-at-large,” that is true. However, ministry that “seeks to bring healing and justice into the world beyond the congregation” was not something that Joseph Tuckerman invented. In fact, both the historical Unitarian and Universalist churches had an individual whose institutional responsibility was to the “worldly affairs of the church as well as the poor.” That person was called the deacon.
There are two strong examples of these community ministers from our church’s history. First, in the 1730's there was a deacon named Daniel little. Deacon Little shows up in Haverhill town histories as having been appointed the overseer of the poor. This is important for two reasons. First, it shows that Little was doing work in the community. The overseer of the poor would go to the bridges, go to the river's edge, go into the streets and talk to people, see what they needed and find ways to satisfy that need. To those outside the congregation, he brought healing and justice. And secondly, it shows the connection of his work to his faith since all of the city documents I have read call him Deacon Daniel little. Not Mr. Little, not Daniel Little, but Deacon Daniel Little. His work for the city was more than a job. It was a ministry in the community recognized by the church.
The same is true during the Revolutionary era when Deacon Ezra Chase becomes involved in town politics. He was one of the signers of Haverhill's ratification of the Declaration of Independence. He was also put in charge of the city's caretaking of widows and orphans from the Revolutionary War. In this way, he was bringing justice and healing to those in the community. And everywhere his name pops up he is also known as Deacon Ezra Chase. Like Daniel Little, Chase was recognized as being called to the ministry he undertook in the community. His work was more than just a job. His work was a calling.
So far, I have spoken of community ministries that have been officially recognized by the church as a calling. Tuckerman was ordained to the ministry and both Little and Chase were officially deacons of the church. There were many instances, however, of community ministries being forgotten as their legacies became secularized. Often, I find that these stories have been stripped of their faith origins and incorporated into general society. For instance, many people know Dorothea Dix and all of her work to bring about moral therapy and decent places for people to go rather than being locked in prisons. Yet it can often be left out that all of the energy she had came from her faith. The work of Clara Barton brought about the Red Cross. And she was a Universalist. And that is to say nothing of the Unitarian-Anglican hybrid Florence Nightingale whose spiritual understanding of her nursing is still being talked about by nurses to this day. Or Henry Bergh, the founder of the American Society for the prevention of cruelty to animals, who I had to mention after I read amazing stories of him jumping through skylights to break up dog fighting rings. Yeah, he's getting mentioned.
These people did not have official recognition of the church like an ordination or a commission. Yet, they lived their vocations in a way that was so informed by their faith that their work was transformed into the living of their values. They all brought healing and justice into the community in a way that was informed by their faith. I cannot help but look back at them and see that their work forms the shoulders upon which we all are standing.
I see so many different community ministries in this church. They are all wonderful and beautiful expressions of our Unitarian Universalist faith. The first and most obvious case of our community ministry that comes to mind is community meals. I mean, it even has the weird community in the name! The opportunity for our congregation to welcome those from outside in and feed them, give them repose, is community ministry. But not only that but also when covid was at its worst and those meals were being driven to families homes. At that point we were not simply welcoming the community into our building but we were leaving the building to go to the community and bring food. If that is not our bringing justice and healing from this church to the world, I don't know what it is.
I can see community ministry happening with our social justice activities. One that comes to mind specifically is the work that some in this congregation are doing to help Afghan refugees settle into life here and to feel at home. I have heard stories of people dropping their work, rearranging schedules, all so that refugees can go to the doctors, go to immigration, learn English and American customs, and so many other things. If that is not us living our faith and bringing healing and justice out to the community, then I don't know what is.
One of the problems with community ministry is that it can be naturally isolating. Our reading today by Rev. Teresa Ninan Soto speaks to this. Community ministers are like aspen pines, Soto writes. Why aspens? Because each tree stands alone. Each tree stands and does its own thing. Think of those who I named earlier. Dorothea Dix, Henry Bergh, Florence Nightingale, they did their work in the community alone. There is a reason why the faith behind their work has been forgotten to history. Yet individually, they understood their work as Holy work. They saw themselves as bringing the work of faith to the community. I imagine that there are people here who are nurses, occupational therapists, teachers, plumbers, or so many other vocations, who view themselves as living out the values of their faith. I know that I, myself, feel I am doing that as a chaplain.
I would argue that all of us, to some extent, are community ministry aspens rising out of the rich soil of our faith. The question I want you to ask yourself is this: is what I do in the community fueled, seated, energized, by my faith? Or put another way, do I feel like my faith is sending me to my calling? Notice I am not talking about a job. I am talking about a calling. Those are two different things though sometimes they may line up. I don't know if the people who do community meals, or those who help the Afghan refugees, would call that their job though they may say it is a calling. Whereas somebody like me may be able to point and say that their work is their calling. So what is your calling?
To be a community minister you have to feel a calling to what you do and see it is a vocation informed by your Unitarian Universalist faith. And then you have to go. Go to the community that you are called to. As Reverend Elizabeth Nguyen wrote, "you minister to those you serve, and you can't minister to them if you're not there." So if that sounds like you, if you are called to your work because of your values and you go and bring healing and justice, you could be a community minister too.
For me, as a community minister, Soto’s words are so true. She explains that she picked the aspen because while they may stand tall and look alone they have these shared root systems that make them both individual trees as well as one interconnected community of trees. My faith has called me to go out but my faith is also where I return to at the end of the day, at the end of the shift, at the end of the visit, at the end of the minute. My faith is what gives me energy. It is you all that reminds me of that. So I hope that if you, too, feel called to community ministry that you reach out. Talk to me, talk to Frank, talk to Tori or Claire. Talk to us and tell us what you are doing and why you are called to it. Talk to each other. Let us lift up your calling and lift you up with your call in the process. My prayer is that this place does not simply continue its proud history of community ministry but starts to sing it out loud as well.
Amen.