by Jan Carlsson-Bull
as part of the worship service of
September 20, 2009
First Parish Unitarian Universalist
Cohasset, Massachusetts
There is a tale told by ancient voices of a special room at the very center of the village. No one had ever seen it. It was a room with no walls, not even mud walls, and no roof, not even one cobbled together by the village craftsmen, and of course how could they build a roof with no walls… Yet every so often villagers would gather for a common meal and there would be talk of smoke rising from the center of the village. Where did it come from?
There must be a room, a secret room where a fire was burning. Who had lit it? Who kept it going? Who tended the coals that it would safely go out? No one—not even the ripest apples of the village—could say for sure how the story began; and no one would fess up to ever having been in this mysterious room. Yet there were rumors that the village elders knew differently, that the village elders had access to a key which they held secretly; and only they knew where the door was; only they knew how to enter.
Villagers went on about their lives. They gave birth to new villagers. They tilled the soil as best they could; they reaped whatever harvest fate seemed to provide. In their social circles, they told the story of the secret room, and with each telling the room took on more specifics—an incense burner at its center, an age-old sage stoking the fire, the aroma of a feast in preparation. And with every embellishment, the frustration grew—that only a select few knew the secrets of this room. They shook their heads and then nodded knowingly. “This is the way it’s always been. Only ‘they’ are privy to the sacred space. Only ‘they” have the key to the door that opens onto this sacred space.”
You can imagine that one day things changed. One day the youngest of the villagers were out on the village green, running about like wild things, toppling one another and careening across the grass. It seemed that they would never tire. As the sun began to set, there were calls from the many huts that circled the green: “Time to come in. Time to come home. Time for dinner!” Reluctantly, they withdrew from their common playground. Each began to drift onto the paths that marked the way to their own home. As the sun set further, one little girl looked back; she looked again. There in the center of the village common was a spiral of smoke rising as if from someone’s hearth. She looked hard and harder. And she noticed that every plume of smoke that rose from every village chimney leaned inward toward a center, and at that center, a common plume spiraled skyward.
She noticed and she thought, and she went to bed that night and dreamt. Her dream revealed a small house in the center of the village square, a house rather like her own and those of her friends, but this house had doors on every side. In fact, there seemed to be many sides; she couldn’t even count how many. Each door was open, and through each door curled a plume of smoke, wafting in from the very hearth of her own house, leaning in from the hearth of every house in the village. She stood and stared outside this simple house on the village square, and as she stared trance-like at what seemed to be arms of smoke leaning into a center, the arms began to motion her in, into the small house in the center of the village. She paused; she pondered. “So many arms inviting me in, so many open doors, so many entrances.” She took a step forward and with a start, woke up, with a story to tell.
A Sermon by Rev. Dr. Jan Carlsson-Bull
First Parish Unitarian Universalist
Cohasset, MA
September 20, 2009
In deep space
There is no air
To walk in space
You have to open the door
There are so many doors
There are so many ways
How many doors have you opened?
How many ways have you found?
Some doors are small
Some doors are big
Some doors are hidden
Some doors are visible
Some doors are open
Some doors are closed
Some doors are broken
Some doors are perfect
Some doors are firm
Some doors are fragile
Some doors are sophisticated
Some doors are simple
If you plan to get in through doors
Why waste time on windows?
If your favorite is an orange
Why waste time on an apple?
If you source is open
Why make your destination closed?
If your reality is virtual
Why make your dream real?
If you cannot open the front door
Why not try the back door?
If you cannot open the door once
Why not try it twice?
There is a door
There is a way
There is a way
There is a light
Do not be timid
Just go ahead
As this verse of unknown origin reveals, there is no mystery about it. We enter a space through an open door. We enter a community through an open space. There’s no secret lock, no secret door, no secret entrance. But there are folks already bustling about inside inviting us in.
Every person here showed up at one of the doors of this Meeting House or Parish House for the very first time. Maybe it wasn’t literally a door. Maybe it was in the aisle at Shaw’s or Stop & Shop over a conversation with a parishioner about why this church was doing such and such or what is it that we believe anyway? Maybe something was said or gazes met in a way that said to the asker, “This is worth checking out.”
Maybe it was a virtual meeting in cyberspace. You cruised the Internet. You landed on http://www.firstparishcohasset.org/. You discovered our mission statement and found yourself in agreement; you previewed our activities and found yourself intrigued; you decided to try us out.
Maybe it was your kids. Perhaps as a parent with young children you decided it was time to offer them some form of religious education. You didn’t want them to be told what to believe. You wanted them to be affirmed for who they were. You wanted their questions to be honored. You wanted them to have a religious identity but with beliefs that were fluid and classes and outings that reinforced caring behavior and tuned into early questions and young energy.
Maybe it was your voice. You love to sing. You had a friend in the choir, and he told you how much fun, how satisfying, it was for him to sing in our First Parish choir.
Maybe it was your neighbor carrying on about something called Circle Ministry. “I never thought I could feel so close to a group of people I thought I already knew,” she said. So you prodded her and she said more. “You talk about stuff like Fathers and Mothers, like Race and Class, like Daydreams?” you asked, intrigued. So you joined her group. And you decided you’d try the rest of church too.
You came to a worship service. Perhaps the music inspired you. Perhaps a minister past or the one standing before you this morning spoke to your heart. Maybe you took your children to our RE classes. Then someone invited you to host coffee hour or join our Outreach Committee or help out with the Lobster Roll Sale. You were invited to serve. And you said to yourself—“Well, I’ve been thinking that I wanted to do something to make a positive difference; maybe this is it!” You got to know people. You rolled up your sleeves. You felt good about what you were doing. You stretched your soul.
This is how it works when you find your niche of ministry at First Parish Unitarian Universalist.
Now some of you might be thinking—especially if you’re fairly new—that there’s some magic about getting involved, about feeling that you really belong. Some of you might think the way the villagers did in the story I told. There’s some mystical plume of smoke emerging from an inner room, and only a favored few know about it. None of us likes to feel like an outsider, but the notion that there are a few insiders with special knowledge about how it all works is as mythical as a single plume of smoke rising from an inner sanctum.
So you take the chance. You end up on a committee. You end up in a Circle Ministry group. You end up teaching an RE class. You end up agreeing to co-lead a leaderless Senior High Youth Group. Then you think: Omigosh, what have I done? All I want to do, all these other folks want to do, is simply impossible. We’ll never be able to make it all happen. If nothing else, the logistics are overwhelming.
Now I could say, that “God works in mysterious ways her wonders to perform,” paraphrasing that 17th century poet William Cowper, but most of you would shake your heads, with an “I don’t think so!” on your face. Or I could say a nonchalant, “Oh, miracles happen!” And you would shudder given the maze of tasks before you. OR you could have listened to Jim’s account of the wedding envisioned by this couple so in love. Beyond expectations, it happened as they dreamed it could. How? Through so many hands doing the work, through so many hearts filled with a vision.
That’s exactly the way this church works. Sometimes the wheels lock; sometimes the boiler goes caput; sometimes the budget crunches; sometimes we sing off-key; sometimes we flatter ourselves by considering this congregation “organized” in 1721. Yet there must be an explanation for our survival across 19 professional ministries and countless lay ministries over these 288 years.
You who are here this morning and the grand you who have been members and friends of this congregation over the centuries, have found an open door, an entrance that worked for you, and you passed through and found fellowship and meaning and a life of spirit and deed and responses if not firm answers to your deepest questions.
Through what door have you entered? What path are you considering?
We who are Unitarian Universalists have historically been branded as heretics. Some of the ancestors of our faith paid with their lives. Yet a heretic means simply one who chooses. We know we don’t like to be told what to do; we like choices. Throughout this congregation, throughout our faith, there are choices in abundance. One of the core choices each of us faces is what our ministry will be here.
You’ve heard me speak of shared ministry. This is a notion that each of us performs a ministry, a service, to make possible our congregational life. It can’t happen any other way. I know I’m the professional, but each of you has gifts of ministry, of service; and your lay ministries, your gifts given and received, constitute the very flame in the chalice that is this parish. Your gifts are the dynamic core of who we are and who we can be.
What is your ministry? I believe there are four simple questions to consider when you ask this question—and I invite each of you to ask it:
1) What am I good at?
2) What do I like to do?
3) What needs to be done?
4) What door will I walk through to make my ministry live?
What am I good at? Sometimes what we’re good at is what we least like to do. I’m really good at weeding a garden. I’m really good at turning a messy document into a fairly coherent text. Do I like to do these things? No. So what am I good at that I like to do? Or even that I kind of like to do? Well, I kind of like to chair committees, but that’s your job, and I’m not about to stand in the way of your opportunities.
Let’s move to the next question. What needs to be done? I daresay most committees could give you a list. Or you could check our newsletter or our weekly e-mail update or reconsider that recent phone call from a committee chair. But what needs to be done aren’t simply tasks. Listening needs to be done. Fellowship needs to be experienced. Songs need to be sung. And soon a brunch needs to be savored! While you’re at that brunch, you’ll receive a yellow booklet [hold it up] prepared by our Leadership Development Committee. It contains a comprehensive set of descriptions of all current committees at First Parish and what each does. It’s a booklet ripe for your reflection of what needs to be done and how that might link with what you’re good at and what you like to do.
Then there’s that final question: What door will I walk through to make my ministry live?
There is a door for you. There is an entrance that works for each person here and each person who shows up. Who you are and what you yearn for and what you offer from the rich experiences of your life are a perfect fit. There are as many doors, as many entrances, as there are those of you ready to walk through.
There is a door
There is a way
There is a way
There is a light
Do not be timid
Just go ahead
Besides, you’re invited.
With open arms and love to each and all of you. Amen.
Sources:
Chalice Reflection of Jim FitzGerald, September 20, 2009.
William Cowper, “God Moves in a Mysterious Way,” in Reformation Theology, at http://www.reformationtheology.com/2006/04/god_moves_in_a_mysterious_way.php.
(“God moves in a mysterious way his wonders to perform…”)
Door (September 30, 2008) – 56, from Frontier Poetry at http://www.hwswworld.com/poetry_all.php Copyright 2002-2008 Hometown Innovation Automation Inc. All Rights Reserved.
“A Parable,” Jan Carlsson-Bull, September 20, 2009.
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