How might you describe your circles of love and friendship? Consider the concentric circles that surround you…who is closest, who is in the circles that are farther away? Reflect on the circles in which you stand…who stands next to you, who are in the circles that intersect with yours? It can get complicated with circles of family and obligatory relationships and the circles you would like to be in or the circles that want you. As you stand among your circles of love, what do you need to flourish?
Walk through life, beautiful more than anything,
stand in the sunlight, walk through life,
love all the things that make you strong,
…
Take it slow
We’ve got a long time and a long way to go
…
Walk on out through sunlight, life, and know
We’re on the go For love
— amiri baraka
Many years ago, I heard someone close a professional development session with this poem by Edwin Markham: He drew a circle that shut me out — Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout. But love and I had the wit to win: We drew a circle and took him in!
My work in the world has been identifying the lines between people and the groups they are in. I see individuals surrounded by concentric circles — a heart circle, the people who are dearest to you, a circle of close friends, and then moving outward, circles of associates, colleagues and ultimately, all the people you know.
If you take the idea of circles farther, there are intersecting circles. These might be, for example, the circles you share with your siblings. Of course, you also would notice the circles that don’t intersect where you might expect them to. After the kinship circles, there are the circles of people you like, and of people you would like to know better. It’s an interesting activity. As we age, it is also interesting to realize, and accept, that the circles are not static — nor are the people in it. Some move closer, some move away, some you have to evict!
Mary Oliver puts it this way:
…little by little, as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice which you slowly recognized as your own,
that kept you company as you strode deeper and deeper into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do —
determined to save the only life you could save.
— The Journey
My approach to life has always been to leap into the unknown. When something comes up that I have never done before, if it looks interesting … I try it. Kate Bowler offers the blessing, May you be surprised by your capacity for ambiguity, for the way it makes you a great listener and a good friend, for you are someone who knows how to feel your way around in the dark, and squint for the stars. I have a very high tolerance for ambiguity, and I am always looking for what I can’t see.
Many of you have asked me, where am I going next? I don’t know. I’m not moving away; I’m going to explore other spiritual communities. I am a preacher, a counselor, and a Sojourner for Truth. With my Month of Sundays project, I am taking the path Jan Richardson describes:
You have looked at so many doors
with longing,
wondering if your life
lay on the other side.
For today,
choose the door
that opens to the inside. Travel the most ancient way
of all:
the path that leads you
to the center of your life.
— The Map You Make Yourself, by Jan Richardson
That is what brought me here, to UUSM. I was searching for a place to fill my well. I came here for rest and respite. I got that, and I found friends, a spiritual community, and a congregation of people who have loved me into leadership.
No map but the one you make yourself. No provision but what you already carry and the grace that comes to those who walk the pilgrim’s way. (Richardson)
My high school had lots of assemblies, and I have always remembered listening to speakers who opened us with laughter and then, whiplashed us into a sobering insight. While in high school I read the book, God Loves Laughter by Bill Sears. He talked about leaving life as an entertainer to become a spiritual teacher, and how he brought laughter with him, as a vehicle to access the hearts of the people in his audiences. Even as a kid, I understood the relationship of laughter to learning, and I aspired to teach in that powerful way. It took a while before I found my authentic laugh, sharing what I think is funny, not as a performance, but as a part of who I am and how I understand the world. I love that you have appreciated my sense of humor and laughed along with me. I’ve served congregations who don’t think laughter is very holy, and I’ve watched them choke down laughter as they sought to sustain what they thought was an appropriately serious expression. Even in those tough houses, I remembered the message of Bill Sears that God loves laughter. No matter what you call The Mystery Some Call God, laughter lifts our spirits and opens us to the ineffable.
Growing up, my mother’s rule was go to church or Sunday School every week, or have no social life. My brother and I chose Sunday School because it was over early and we could get on with our plans for the day. One Monday, when I was sixteen, my mother asked me what had happened in Sunday School. “Nothing,” was my adolescent reply. “Well, the teacher said you were asking questions that disturbed the other students.” I didn’t understand. I always tried to synthesize what I learned in school with what I was taught at church; my questions were an attempt to make sense of it all I was taught. I didn’t have the language at that time to explain this to my mother, but she understood that I was not trying to make trouble, so she said that if the teachers couldn’t answer my questions, then I didn’t have to go. “Great,” I replied, “I’ll become a Baha’i.” “No, you won’t,” was her final answer.
That expulsion from Sunday School set me on the path of a Seeker, a Sojourner for Truth and I did become a Baha’i about ten years later. Fifty years after being ousted from Sunday School, I visited the UU church in Tulsa Oklahoma. It was Coming of Age Sunday, and I was captivated by the presentations of the youth. How might my life have been different had my adults encouraged me to explore the answers to my theological questions as the adults of these UU youth had done?
I move through my days stopped by Wonder and Pain, Worry and Surprise. With each stopping, I listen for the story, the insight, the question, or the metaphor that is my next teacher.
— Mark Nepo
I wanted to know more about UUs, so when I returned to Los Angeles, I decided to visit all the UU churches in Southern California. When I was taking classes at Pacific Oaks College in Pasadena, I had wondered about the church nearby, which welcomed witches. For two years, I consulted with the hospital across the street from the San Diego UU church; I parked in their lot and wondered who they were. I knew Unity but wasn’t sure about Unitarians. Before I knew I was a Unitarian, I called myself a non-dualistic, trans-traditional, spiritual teacher. I had been raised Christian, I chose Baha’i, and I was deeply influenced by Taoism. I came from a family of church leaders, church musicians, and Muslims! I didn’t get far in my exploration of UU World, because when I got here to UUCCSM, I knew I had come home. I am a Unitarian Universalist.
What have I done during my ten-year sojourn at UUSM? My Dining for Dollars dinners are legendary. I’ve served on the Nominating Committee and the Board. I worked with Julie Nyquist on the mission and vision review project. I’ve taught classes in Leadership, Communication, and Building Your Own Theology (which was the best). I’ve preached, offered Spiritual Direction, and officiated at many Rites of Passage services. As a member, I’ve been comforted and challenged by the sermons I’ve heard. I have been uplifted by the music, inspired by the Art Wall, made many friends, and enlarged my Circle of Love as I have laughed and cried with you.
I also earned a Certificate in UU Studies from Starr King School for Ministry, jumped all the hoops to become a candidate for fellowship as a UU minister, and became a member of the UU Ministers Association. I am a bona fide credentialed UU minister. Someone said: If you are lucky, it’s your job. If you are really lucky, you do your job with incredibly talented people, who love you and invite you to love them. I have been extremely lucky throughout my career. These past ten years have been the best, and now it’s time for me to go.
As a Navy Brat I moved every 18 months. When asked how moving so often affected her children, my mother said, “My kids adapt!” and we did. For me, part of adapting was not getting attached to people or places. As an adult, I get to own all my feelings. I adapt to the changes, but I don’t pretend to like them all. Letting go is hard for me because now I allow myself to get attached. Consequently, I hate goodbyes, even when the goodbye is a good one. So, I remind myself, as I suggest to you, whatever journey you are on…
Do not expect
to return by the same road.
Home is always by another way and you will know it. (Richardson)
We must trust the process. Change happens with and without our consent. As a consultant, I’ve seen great calls, good calls, and Oops, what were we thinking? calls. With each one, congregations have survived, thrived, and learned what they needed to learn. It is now our turn, individually and as a community, to learn how to:
Welcome detours — as doors deeper in —
not by the light that waits for you but by the star that blazes inside you
telling you where you are is holy and you are welcome here. (Richardson)
Find your star my friends. Let that star illumine your Circle of Love. I thank you for expanding mine.
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;
which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
— ee cummings
My last Sunday is June 28. Come worship together; it will be a Hymn Sing!
Please send me a note, or leave a love note for me in the “Sunshine Box” that is in Forbes Hall.
