Last week I talked about letting down your guard—that it’s in our nature to want to protect and defend ourselves, but in doing so, we cut ourselves off from goodness and possibility. The invitation is to trust that when you take the risk of making yourself vulnerable, you will be held, will be supported, will find liberation and even joy in your daring to stretch and grow. This is my faith, and it has been my experience too.
In the early weeks and months of the pandemic, I started getting emails from our wider Unitarian Universalist network; from the ministers’ association, from our regional staff, and even from national leaders, trying to be helpful and supportive in that uncertain time. And though I appreciate the effort, and the good intentions behind those emails, it didn’t take long before they started to sound pretty much the same: “We know you’re carrying a lot these days, your probably stressed, trying to figure out how to do church in a new way…. but we want to remind you, to just breathe!” At some point, I said out loud, “If I get another email with the subject line, “Just breathe,” I am going to scream!
Sermon given by Intern Minister Tori Rosati, October 10, 2021
Back in the old days, before GPS and cell phones, if you were driving and got lost, what would you do? You’d pull over, at a gas station or a convenience store, and ask directions, right? Or maybe you wouldn’t. My wife thinks there’s a gender difference here, and she’s usually right, but can I get a show of hands—who among us really doesn’t like to ask for directions? Who would rather muddle around, saying, “I can figure it out”?
When I made the decision to start seminary three years ago, I didn’t know that it would feel so much like leaving home. I remember this longing right before beginning the journey in the spring of 2019 to plant myself in a space for a while and let it work on me. I had spent the previous year in deep discernment about embarking and now I was ready to settle into a new space and allow myself to be formed in the studying, the exploration, and the learning. To touch down in a new home.
For me, one of the joys of being a minister is getting to stand with a couple when they get married. I love getting to say “I now pronounce that you are married.” giving voice to the fact that these who were two, are now joined together as one. But you know what? I don’t see the pronouncement as the key moment, or the most precious moment, in the ceremony.
It has been a lot, hasn’t it, these past eighteen months? Some of you have been on the front lines, in one way or another, and most of us have has less risky and less dramatic pandemic journeys. But it has been disrupting and dislocating and hard for everyone, right? As one observer put it, we have all been through a “sustained, slow-motion collective trauma.” And it’s not over. Though with the vaccine I trust that we are moving in the right direction. This is something to take seriously, to face and deal with, as best we can. And to cultivate hearts and souls still capable of kindness, gratitude, and joy. Which is why we are here.
Almost thirty years ago I followed my wife Tracey to the UU church in Portsmouth, NH. There I found a vibrant spiritual community that changed my life, for the better. And that eventually led me to you.
It didn’t take long before Tracey and I were involved in church life, and we loved it—getting to know people, helping out where we could. I remember one night, I was at a dinner meeting at our minister’s house, and when it was time to leave, he was standing at the kitchen sink, doing dishes. For a minute I leaned on the counter, talking to him, and I asked if he wanted help. He said, “No thanks,” and a big smile came across his face. “I love doing dishes,” he said. “Look at this—on one side, a pile of dirty dishes. And over here, clean ones, drying. Order out of chaos.”
He paused for a minute, and then he said something I’ve never forgotten. He said, “In ministry, there’s plenty I can’t control. Things happen, when they do, and you respond as best you can.” He looked back at the dishes and smiled. “This I can control.”
Do you ever wonder how we tiny little dots on the Universe could make a difference and be a blessing in this Big World?
For centuries, humankind thought that giving blessings belonged to the professionals: ordained individuals, the mystics and the prophets – who, let’s face it, were mostly males!
The truth is giving blessings has always been a part of the human experience. In the late 1800’s, Alexander Carmichael traveled to the Islands of Scotland to research and collect the vanishing songs, poems, and prayers of the Gaelic-speaking islanders. His body of work became known as the Carmina Gadelica. In addition to songs, poems, and prayers, it included blessings, proverbs, and natural history observations, it was filled with examples of everyday people blessing their work, their fellow humans, the earth, and just about everything else as a matter of course.
I wonder how you’re doing in these days. Are you having a good summer? Are you getting what you want and what you need from this season of warmth and light? How is it with your soul, in these days when the pandemic is lingering on, and our future again looks uncertain?
I ask, because it’s been a kind of strange summer for me so far. And I imagine I might not be the only one. I’ve felt more unsettled, and less able to just enjoy this summer, so far at least. There’s a lot on my mind, and maybe there is on yours too.
Universalist Unitarian Church of Haverhill
15 Kenoza Avenue, Haverhill, MA • 978-372-5173 • office@uuhaverhill.org
Mailing & office address: 16 Ashland Street, Haverhill, MA 01830
The land now called Haverhill sits on the original homelands of the Pennacook and Pentucket Nations, Algonquian-speaking peoples of the Wabanaki Confederacy.
