First Parish Unitarian UniversalistTies that Bind, but are Not Binding
A sermon preached by the Reverend Diane Teichert
First Parish Unitarian Universalist - Canton, MA
January 31, 2005
My story about joining a Unitarian Universalist congregation begins with a conversation I had with my father in October of 1988.
The previous June, he had collapsed while playing tennis. They thought he’d had a heart attack, but could find no problems with his heart. In July, he developed a persistent head ache, which was in August revealed to be caused by a brain tumor. (When the doctor came into the waiting room to tell the family gathered that dad made it thru, he told us that, during the usual questions after surgery to see whether a patient is “with it” or not, when they asked dad if he knew where he was he said, “St. John’s Hospital, for brain surgery, and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” We knew he was ok!).
Tests showed the tumor to have metastasized from his colon, so in September he underwent surgery to remove the cancer, and in October he came home. And that’s when we had this conversation that led me to sign the Membership Book at First Parish in Arlington, Mass. We were at the smooth round table in my parents’ kitchen on Long Island, with the sun streaming in the big window that looks out on some woods, mainly oaks, and my mother’s bird feeders, busy in autumn.
My father was feeling weak, but pretty good and I really wanted to have a “meaningful conversation” with him. So I asked him whether his recent “brushes with death” had changed his ideas or beliefs about whether there is life after death.
“No,” he said, “but it did change my beliefs about the church.” I looked at him quizzically. “It really is what we say it is.”
He sounded surprised. And he went on to tell about the incredible support he and my mother had received and were receiving from their Presbyterian Church, in which they both served as leaders, he as an especially loved and respected one.
“It really does live out what Jesus taught,” he said, “to visit the sick, and so on. It really is the loving community we say it is. It really is.”
I never did find out whether he believed in heaven. J
But, I did ask him what God meant to him. I’ve told you about that before. He said “it’s a sense of rightness that comes to you sometimes in the living of your life.” I have wondered since if that’s all he would have said about God, or if that’s all he knew I, with my Unitarian Universalist leanings, could hear. “God is that sense of rightness that comes to you sometimes in the living of your life.”
I went to church with my parents the next day. It was a nice autumn day, but my father wore his long gray wool winter coat and a warm hat. Tall and trim anyway, he was gaunt from his long hospital stay and two surgeries. Though they knew what he’d been through the long months he’d been gone, it took a while for the congregation to recognize the frail, over-dressed man entering the sanctuary with effort. As people turned their heads, there was an audible murmur and then a swelling of emotion, and people rose, clapping, with tears in their eyes!
Within a month, my father was back in the hospital. Then it was Thanksgiving Week and the whole family gathered, his six children the youngest of whom was only twenty, two with spouses and four young grandchildren, including my two ages five and two. The adults kept a round the clock vigil at the hospital, and church folks provided many meals.
At the end of the week, he died. That evening, a church friend--my dad’s tennis buddy on the June day he collapsed-- and his wife delivered the most delicious beef stew and biscuits and jello salad (I can’t remember the dessert, but I remember everything else!) you would ever want to taste, such comfort food. In the days that followed his death, we experienced the congregation’s love and thoughtful help, and then such an outpouring of love and grief at his memorial service at the church.
I believe that it was our very first Sunday at home after my father died that my husband Don and I signed the Membership Book at First Parish Unitarian Universalist in Arlington, MA near to our Medford home.
It wasn’t even clear to us exactly how to join. I’m not sure we even knew that there was a Membership Book to sign. But we inquired, and the minister took us to a quiet alcove off the Parish Hall, pulled an old book from a shelf, and we added our signatures. A sense of rightness came to me in doing so.
We’d been attending for over a year by then. Perhaps Don was even teaching Sunday School that fall. But, no one had invited us to join. Becoming a member wasn’t something that was much talked about there, at that time.
But, I wanted to belong, like my parents belonged. I wanted to give and receive, as my parents had given and received. First Parish in Arlington had become our spiritual home and it was our community, like my parents’ church was theirs, and we were signing our names as a sign of our dedication to it.
Now, here at First Parish in Canton, we don’t keep our Membership Book a secret! It is on display during Coffee Hour, on the buffet-like table that faces you as you enter the Parish Hall. And, when you sign it, the minister doesn’t take you to a quiet alcove. Instead, right there in the Parish Hall, there’s a host of witnesses-- the minister, the president, and often a couple more-- who each want to welcome you with the “right hand of fellowship” (that’s a handshake) and a hug for good measure after you sign your name. Let me ask our speakers today, were there hugs when you signed the Membership Book?!
I like to think we would tone down our enthusiasm if you were signing the Membership Book to somehow honor the recent death of your father. J
But, we do love to welcome new members.
Once or twice a year, in a Sunday worship service, we more ceremoniously welcome our newest members. They are asked to come forward to the front of the sanctuary. In that ceremony, I explain that “the act of becoming a member of First Parish is at once simple and bold: simple—writing your name in the Membership Book and bold—a public statement of a private, inner reality, that you have found this to be your religious home and embrace our Covenant. Joining is easy,” I point out, “but membership is not—because a member accepts responsibility for continuing and sharing the faith journey that brought him or her to this place and for living in community with others whose journeys may be different.“
In the ceremony, both the new and the current members are asked about their commitment. To the new members we say, “As members of First Parish, we endeavor to grow spiritually, create community, and do the work of love and justice in this world. Are you prepared to join us in this work? Will you speak the truth as you understand it, with courage and love? Will you support First Parish financially and with your time, energy, and creativity? If so, please say ‘I will.’
And to the current members, we say, “Will the members of First Parish now present rise as you are able? Are you prepared to live in community with these new members? Will you listen to their truths and speak the truth as you understand it, with courage and love? Will you care for them in times of need, and let them care for you? If so, please say ‘we will.’”
Did you catch that, “Will you care for them in times of need, and let them care for you?”
First Parish folks promise to care for and be cared for by each other in times of need. And, like my parents’ church, we care very well, very well indeed.
One of our most spirited elders, Ruth, is ailing with chronic leukemia. . She, who hardly ever missed a Sunday, has missed seven plus Christmas Eve, and today makes the eighth, not counting the service cancelled due to the blizzard. Ruth has been in need of rides to medical appointments, groceries, meals to share, soup to freeze, financial help because now she can’t work, as well as visits, calls, cards and anything else that helps her not feel forgotten.
Many of you know Ruth because she makes a point to welcome a newcomer when she spots one, and has been known to put her arm around you and practically march you down to Coffee Hour after the service. Please raise your hand if you are someone who remembers Ruth as one who helped you to feel welcome?
What you may not know is that she launders the First Parish dish towels and tablecloths every week, and cleans out the fridge when it needs it. And often is the last clean-up person in the kitchen after a potluck or reception.
Now Ruth is in need of our help. The members of her Covenant Group, plus Gisele and Giuseppe, and many others of you in the congregation—even people she doesn’t much know—are taking such good care of her, for many weeks now, and it appears that we’ll have to keep it up for a while longer. It gives me joy to see and to be part of this caring we’re doing. And, Ruth feels so grateful, and seems to be exclaiming to everyone, how her “church family” has “been there” for her.
Like my dad, she’s learning that First Parish is what it says it is!
Our ministerial intern, Megan Lynes, wrote in one of her reflection papers (and gave me permission to quote her),
“It’s easy for me to see that Ruth is one of those people who says yes to giving great love and service whenever it’s possible. And over the years this has been her ministry to First Parish. She gives and the community benefits. However what I’ve noticed is that the greatest benefits aren’t the ones that are immediate. It’s not that fresh dish towels are always on hand, or that the fridge gets cleaned out, so much as the very fact that so many of us see her doing these quiet kind actsand are inspired to do the same for the community, and now for her.”
Yes, indeed, we need one or more people to get into the kind acts of laundering our towels and tablecloths and cleaning out the fridge because those are jobs Ruth has done for years here, and, indeed, we need one or more people to sit near the back where you can spot the newcomers and greet them and make sure they KNOW without a doubt that they are WELCOME! And only take YES as an answer when you offer to introduce them to some folks at Coffee Hour.
And, when Ruth is well enough to just show up one Sunday morning, I hope she gets a standing ovation!
Like my dad, she’s learning that First Parish is what it says it is!
But, really it works another way, too. You see, her need is also Ruth’s gift to us. For in meeting her need, we find out that we are who we say we are. It’s good to know, isn’t it? Love really is our doctrine, and service is really our prayer. We learn that it is… by doing it, by loving and serving!
The ties that bind are real here. But they’re not binding. We’re not bound by creed, or by fear of some punishment in the life hereafter.
It’s love that ties us, that binds us into a community. The ties that bind us are the ones created by love’s actions. The love that launders the dish towels and tablecloths, and cleans out the fridge in the First Parish kitchen. The love that welcomes the newcomers and makes it hard for them to say “no” to going to Coffee Hour. The love that shovels the First Parish walkways, solves our financial crisis, teaches the children, sings in the choir, feeds the hungry, stands up for your beliefs. The love that draws you to symbolize your commitment by signing the Membership Book.
Especially the love that visits the ill, does her errands, brings soup, sits down for a meal.
We’re bound together in love here.
If this is what you are looking for,
if this is what you’ve found,
if this is what you’ve given,
or if this is what you hope to give…
then these ties bind you, too, and…
you know, with a sense of rightness…
that some call God… that this has become your spiritual home.
Amen and so may it be.