"All these souls, in [this] sanctuary, make something religious happen." - Lawrence Kushner, Invisible Lines of Connection

Thank goodness for polyester for like Lawrence Kushner. I too remember wool pants I had to wear, wool pants that itched like crazy to the point where I found it hard to sit still in church. And I too wondered why I had to wear those pants - certainly God didn't want me to be that uncomfortable.

And Kushner is right because I also found that being in that sanctuary of my childhood church made me itch, it made me uncomfortable, for religion, like those pants, didn't feel good, didn't fit right - it made me squirm. Yet while away, on sabbatical, it was being in this sanctuary, in this religious community - itching or not - it's one of the things I missed the most.

Many of you have asked me if it feels good to be back. And though it will take a bit of time to fully adjust, yes it is very good to back after being gone since mid-January. Many of you have also asked what having a sabbatical was like, how did it feel. Let me offer this way of characterizing it:

Most of you know that from early February to April I was in the Philippines (which I will be talking about on two Sundays in October and then I'll have a one Sunday evening potluck program with slides, more stories and kind of a show-and-tell). While on the island of Negros, which is about 300 km. South of Manila, I took all my meals with Rebecca Sienes and her family. Rebecca is the President of the UU Church of the Philippines and she lives in a very small 4 room apartment with her son, two daughters-in-law, two grandsons, two nephews and usually one or two other passers-thru. Meals were always quite an event! And they included television watching. You see, while Rebecca was studying here in the States (at our seminary in Chicago) she bought a TV which she brought home when finished. They only receive one channel, and we watched it - together - all the time.

There was this one Pepsi commercial that was really quite humorous (though I'm still trying to figure out what it had to do with Pepsi). A young man - around 17 - is in an elevator (which is quite amazing for my friends since I never saw an elevator my entire time there), when at one stop a very attractive, similarly aged young woman gets on. No sooner does she get on than the elevator come to an abrupt stop. She is very cool about it while he is going crazy - we know all this because we are privy to what he is thinking. He's saying to himself, very rapidly and with a thick Filipino accent: "She is so cool, but what should I say. Whatever I say I've got to be as cool as she is: I have to be cool and intelligent and suave, I've got to be my best. But what should I say." Then he clears his throat and says in his finest English: "Excuse me, are you in heat?" She turns, gives him this horrible look of disgust, slaps him across the face at which point the elevator begins to move and she gets off immediately, and he is left wondering where he went wrong.

Now, for three weeks my friends would see this commercial and just laugh and laugh - we all thought it was pretty funny. It was after being there nearly a month, that one evening Rebecca's son, Mark, turned to me after still another viewing of this commercial and asked: "Fred, about this commercial: What does it mean to be in heat?" I couldn't believe it. They all thought it was funny without the punchline. Well, after I explained it to them, they all went crazy! It was like seeing the commercial for the first time. But then, after another month, even it grew tiring and near the end of my stay no one paid it much attention but anticipated something new.

I know that's a long story to getting to my sabbatical but you see, my time away was something like their response to that Pepsi ad. They had three responses to it and I had three distinct segments in my sabbatical. The first part was enjoying it, but not really understanding what was going on: I had to make the adjustment. By the time I came home from nearly a week in California and then 2 months in the Philippines I was just about 1/3 of the way through my time and I was beginning to shift out of the routine of daily church life and ministry and into a rhythm all my own, the rhythm of sabbatical which went from April through almost the end of June. It was then that I knew I was on a different time schedule - it was then that I felt distanced from the routine, it was then that I understood and really appreciated my time away. Next came Utah, the UU General Assembly in Salt Lake City, which is like a Unitarian Universalist carnival and this began the final phase of my leave of absence. When I came home I knew it was time to move on, to move back, to finish up left over sabbatical business and begin returning to the life of this congregation.

Now for those here this morning who might be wondering just what the big deal is, "so I was gone for a half year," I guess I have to share my understanding of our relationship which is partly re-enforced at virtually every gathering of UUs I attend. I've been your minister for nearly 16 full years - that's a long time in nearly any congregation. I've never made it a secret so many of you know that I didn't anticipate this length of stay. But it's been good - it's been great - and it just seems to keep getting better. Yet just like in any long relationship, no matter how good, it's easy to begin taking each other for granted, to assume, to maybe get a bit careless, too far ahead or behind which can make communication hard.

Coming home from the General Assembly in Salt Lake City where all of this had been freshly rehearsed and reviewed, I wasn't completely shocked to quickly learn that while away this congregation did just fine without me! Not that I knew you wouldn't, and it's not that I wanted you to fall, stumble, write me letters of nostalgic longing or to hear you couldn't stand another day without me, but some comments from a colleague kept echoing in my mind. What I heard him say was something like: remember that when you return, regardless of how you feel or what you think, you won't be the same person; and remember too, the congregation won't be the same either; don't make the mistake of thinking and behaving as though nothing has changed.

This morning I want to acknowledge and speak of these changes. And while I know I can't give depth to everything that went on, at least I can make a start and I'm sure the rest will unfold as time goes on. Though, right now, this is not a two-way process, a conversation, I do recognize that while away - I from you and you from me - there were at least three themes that our lives shared, growing edges that we experienced.

One was the theme of renovation, which we all know means "to restore to a former better state; to restore to life, vigor or activity." (Webster's 9^th Collegiate) In April, after years of consideration that involved stop and start planning, several leadership changes and everything from grandiose to the unthinkable in designs, you approved the plans and fund raising for a significant reconstruction and facelift of this building which will begin in June. When the bulk of it is done (we hope by September), it will be like having a new church building! Though we still need further financial support for this project, the renovation and restoration will happen. When I left in January, it looked as though this proposal was on the right track but nothing was for sure. When I received word of the overwhelming support you had given to it as well as the very hard work and guidance given by the church's leadership, I was thrilled.

We didn't need a new building - not yet. And as I've watched the Catholic Church on the corner be built, what was once an appreciation for our church building and land as grown and grown and grown with every tree they've cut and brick they've laid so that now I know that what we have here is truly special and unique. The church's mothers and fathers knew this too when they purchased this land and created this sanctuary. Come June, we will begin a renovation, a restoration, instilling life and vigor to this aging complex - we will be breathe new life into a maturing dream. You have made a good and wise decision.

While away I too experienced the value of renovation, restoring value and priority to a façade of ministry that had not felt right for 8 years. It was 8 years ago that I was coming back from my first sabbatical which was largely used to complete a Doctor of Ministry degree in liberation theology. The book I wrote from that work, A Reason For Hope, was my attempt to resolve the dilemma that one writer characterized in the title of his book: Spirituality and Liberation: Overcoming the Great Fallacy. Well, my book was no sooner out of its carton than I knew I was still a long way from resolving the tensions and challenges I had been facing. For the last 8 years I have feebly and without much satisfaction tried to restore life and vigor, to renovate, a ministry that honored both spirituality and liberation. And quite unintentionally, during this sabbatical, I feel as though I am closer than ever before to bringing these two together.

What happened, I think, is this: I went back, re-examined some interests I had had with Unitarian Universalist issues and concerns, and decided where I wanted to put my energy. Eight years ago, I was not committed to any UU project, cause or concern (other than this church and that is a lot!): issues of clergy sexual abuse, racism, social justice empowerment, student placement, and UUism in the Philippines were issues I was familiar with, that I could speak about, but felt no real passion for. Today that is very different. While away, I was restored, my passion renovated, some connections were finally made - after 25 years of ministry I think I may see the light!

What's made the difference? It's a second theme, another growing edge that we shared while away. It's kind of hard to come up with the right words to characterize these themes, but this one I would say has to do with activism for community, which is different than community activism, though they aren't mutually exclusive but a shift in emphasis. Activism for community, for me, means not only valuing community, but valuing true community which is to say pluralism, diversity, the differences that come when we are with people who look and think differently, who may not share all the same priorities as you do. While away, you did this in some old and new exciting ways. At the end of January, our Journey Toward Wholeness Team, with the help and participation of many of you, hosted a Jubilee Workshop that saw over 100 gather at this church to explore the institutional and personal causes and responses to racism. They followed this up by sponsoring a mid-winter film and discussion series on racism. This series was met with a level of participation that I think they did not expect. And then the 4^th Annual Gay and Lesbian Film Series which has been gaining momentum since it's first year. Nothing quite like it is to be found in the county. Also the performances of Olympia's Daughters, the Adult Con., the mentoring program at Annapolis Middle School - all of these are examples of how this congregation has been clear and intentional about activism for community.

I like the way Alice Walker wrote about it:

While away, I too, in the spirit of Walker's words, took such delight in the community of people - most of them Unitarian Universalists. With trips to San Francisco, Chicago, Boston, Salt Lake and Dumaguete City (the Philippines) where in each place I spent considerable time with groups of Unitarian Universalists sharing with tears and laughter the joy and pain of their struggles and challenges, things that every person experiences, I come back with a profound appreciation for the depth I experienced in diverse communities and with an activist's sense of urgency for doing whatever I can to nurture opportunities that will promote a strong and more vital sense of community among us.

While away, as we both experienced restoration and community, I was struck with just how each of these was permeated with a sense of trust, the third theme or cutting edge. This congregation, except for a short period of time at it's founding, has always had professional ministry. In congregations which have gone from being a fellowship that was led for years (sometimes decades) by lay leadership to eventually having professional ministry, there is a very different feel and sense, a feel and sense this congregation has never had. Consequently, when this church experiences an absence of its minister, it is a big deal - all five times it's happened (3 times between ministers and two sabbaticals). Each time it has meant turning to the lay leadership to fill the gaps, it means trusting the leadership to do what is right. But this time it was different for at least two reasons: first, the church has a larger membership than any time in its history - not only are there more members, there are more people, programs, responsibilities. I once estimated that in any given month, this church comes into the lives of at least 1000 people. We are a significant institution for many in this area of the county. There are many who just assume that this church will be here to give them what they expect. And a second difference from former absences of professional ministry: there are now lay ministers, which were in part initiated in the full realization that the congregation had grown too big for it's professional ministry. I want to thank the lay ministers for the outstanding ministry they performed while I was on sabbatical - they were a blessing to me and a blessing to you. I also want to thank Jan Sprinkel, Peter Crilly, Leslie Everitt and Fran Ateto, and everyone else who helped to keep things going, who were the most visible leaders that you trusted, that I trusted, during my absence.

It all seems kind of miraculous to me as I now look back on it. And in a sense, miracles and trust share something that Willa Cather wrote about: "Where there is great love there are always miracles. Miracles rest not so much upon faces or voices, or healing power coming to us from afar off, but on our perceptions being made finer, so that for a moment our eyes can see and our ears can hear what is there about us always." (source unknown)

Like grace, I believe that the opportunities for miracles and trust are about us always, if we just have the eyes to see and the ears to hear, if we are willing to set aside our assumptions, expectations and often our anxieties and then risk seeing and hearing what is right in front of us. While away, such risks became the commonplace for me, especially in the Philippines. From day to day, often hour to hour, I was doing things, going places, living new adventures where I had no choice but to trust - to set aside every assumption and expectation that I had, tell my anxiety to take a back seat, and simply to go with the situation and trust the people I was with. It wasn't always easy, but quite frankly in many settings, there was absolutely nothing I could do: when I traveled 4-5 hours by bus, motorcycle and foot to reach a remote mountain village, I was there until its time to go! When I was asked to pray, speak at the funeral of a church leader, baptize a new member of the congregation, give the sermon, teach a Sunday school class, sing my favorite hymn - all with no notice ahead of time - these weren't the times to say I was sorry but I couldn't do it; or when they brought out a young calf, live chickens, sea food that I had never seen before or freshly cut sugar cane trunks and asked how I liked it prepared, I needed to affirm their graciousness and generosity. I had to trust these strangers, often with my life - I had little choice.

As hokey as it may sound, my appreciation and understanding of the interdependent web of life, of the life that all people share, - the air we breathe, the soil that we walk upon, the sun that shines and most profoundly the qualities that make human life, all human life, so unique and shared - this interdependent sharing, I now know and feel that this is the very stuff of grace and miracles, of trust, and the amazing part of is that its waiting there for each of us, every day.

Restoration, community and trust - while away these were the themes and growing edges that emerged and developed. And now, here in this large room, "All these souls, together in [this] sanctuary, mak[ing] something religious happen." (Lawrence Kushner) What I missed most was the "wool pants" experience that Lawrence Kushner spoke of - of being together and watching something religious happen. Religious, as you may remember, comes from the Latin root, religio meaning to bind together, as in a whole or to make whole. As a religious community, we are bound together by our faith, by our shared experiences of faith as well as the interdependency of the living web. Of course I was a part of many different UU communities while away, but you know it would be like being away from your family and living with another family - it just wasn't the same: there were things that I recognized, some of the words, songs and expressions were familiar, still it just wasn't the same.

What was missing was the shared sense of "itch," the experience of "trying to hold a crease in life" together. Frankly, I believe - I know - there are things we do and expect in this faith community, maybe even only in this room, that we do and expect no where else. Why? Because this is our sacred space, our sanctuary, it's where we try every Sunday (and sometimes more often) to put the crease back into life - to make sense out of our living whether that be through laughter, tears, shouts of celebration or contemplative prayer and reflection. It's where we come to be religious, often itching and squirming the whole time.

Thank you again for the opportunities you allowed me to have by taking a leave of absence. While away, I know that we both affirmed our sense of who we are and what we want through restoration, community and trust. And now, with all these souls, together in this church, let's make something religious happen.