Friday Delay

Was up most of the night cleaning my home (!) and then taking the 4:45 a.m. train to the Big Apple. Met my friend Ginga Eichler from Berlin, and we took the Bolt Bus back to Baltimore.

Here's a Facebook posting after Thursday's funeral:

The late Lois Fessenden Honick was a member of First Unitarian Church of Baltimore, married to Al Honick in 1967 by Rev. Irving Murray. She was a great admirer of A. Powell Davies, and in preparation for this morning, I came across this poem (collected into "Great Occasions" by Carl Seaburg) which spoke dearly to me. Accepting that there is a tremendous problem in any poem that sees the world as wild and unpeopled, ready for pilgrim settlers (whether Cana'an, Massachusetts, "The West," Palestine, etc.), I offered it to her husband as he sits shiva this week.

The world we know is passing: all things grow strange;

all but the stout heart's courage;

all but the undiminished lustre of an ancient dream--

which we shall dream again as [others] have dreamed before us,

pilgrims forever in a world forever new.

And what we loved and lost

we lose to find how great a thing is loving,

and the power of it to make a dream come true.

For us, there is no haven of refuge;

for us there is the wilderness, wild and trackless,

where we shall build a road and sing a song.

But after us there is a Promised Land,

strong from our sorrows and shining from our joys,

our gift to those who follow us

along the road we build

singing our song.

Thoughtful Thursday

Not that I've shown thoughtfulness . . . but that I'm full of thoughts this morning.

Last night's Worship Associates meeting was a place for me to listen to how "my people" think about the experience we have together on Sunday, and the experience we hope to lead with one another for our community. I was touched by the reflections of my associates; and I also heard the great variety of perspectives on what touches us, what remains with us, how we order our own lives into the orderliness of our worship. I'm trying to encourage us to build our own interconnections and to model a coherence that our church needs. And I think this group has some of the capacity to accomplish this.

While I've been typing, Ronnie Gilbert and Holly Near have been singing "Too Good Arms" (Charlie King) in the background. Does a minister's "first" church follow him or her all the days of her or his life? This was the anthem of Community Church of Boston, the theme of our ongoing reluctance to trust the state (and all authority, really) and desire to speak our truth about the rotten system that acculturates us. I know that that song forever rings in my heart:

"We will remember this good shoemaker!

We will remember this poor fish peddler!

We will remember all the strong arms and hands

That never once found justice in the hands who rule this land.

And all who knew these two good men

Knew they never had to rob or kill,

Each had lived by his own two hands, and lived well,

And all their lives, they had struggled

To rid the earth of all such crimes.

And all our lives, we must struggle

To rid the earth of all such crimes."

Doesn't get truer than this, for me.

Working Wednesday

Again, a thoughtful sermon to listen to, and then a very very full day. Some trepidation around an upcoming speaker who has been out of touch . . . but the work goes forward.

What listening to others' sermons is doing--beside allowing me to grow in appreciation for a handful of colleagues--is to get me to commit more of my thinking and working time to my own sermonizing. This is good. This is the central obligation, I believe, that I have to the Baltimore church, and the strongest place out of which I may have influence.

Still, this post is a day late. A sign of my over-performing . . .

Tuesday, Bluesday

Okay, okay, not to create a rhymey-timey sequence . . . but Tuesday morning was tough. I listened to a sermon and spent some time thinking, but I had an early morning obligation in addition to trying to get caught up on a few things, and encountered an internet failure at the church that persisted for hours. So the brief blogpost I wanted to make got put off and put off . . . and somehow it is Thursday already. Yikes!

Still, I am getting a lot of things done, and continually choosing things not to do. And, I hope, I'm finding more and more people that I can trust to help.

Monday, Monday

Practice continues. Looking forward to being a little better caught up relationally, and ready to detach from an argument that persists among some leaders. How to be pastoral? How to be present? That's what's in my heart.

First Sunday

Lent is here, and, unfortunately, the first Sunday is also the first day of Daylight Saving Time. Yikes. I always seem to get sick on the Wednesday of the week we change the clocks. Being in Maryland is introducing me to an all new set of spring allergies--and a month earlier than I had them in Flint or in Boston. (Spring allergies didn't appear in me until after college, so I don;t remember particularly problematical sniffling in Rhode Island springtimes.) But I', already sniffling like crazy (started on Friday) and I'm not looking forward to this week!

Still, this morning's quiet time, including listening to a colleague's sermon podcast, has got me thinking about my people, about the kind of leadership from which they might benefit, and how to provide that leadership in my own person and in people I can encourage. So I think the day has started well, and I think a theme is emerging for these forty day. Leadership, and especially leadership that is developed and encouraged from among the people.

Bells ringing outside. Time to get to church! Work to do, and worship to help lead.

Saturday, a little sad

The Maryland House of Delegates yesterday decided to move the Marriage Equality bill back to the House Judiciary Committee. This will allow us to avoid a possible defeat, and to keep the bill alive for next year's session. Not the outcome we desired, but probably a better outcome than a losing vote--and we just didn't have assurance that we would win.

So I'm a little sad.

Last night, church had a delightful and "easy" dinner to kick off our Commitment Campaign . . . and then I went to a house concert with my favorite live performer, Dean Stevens. Dean's music always moves me to tears, especially the moment in "Wood and Strings" where he sings

Thank you, George Lowden

Thank you, Jean Larrivée,

Gordy Bischoff, C. F. Martin,

I am thanking you every day.

Thank you, rosewood, thank you, cedar,

Mahogany, ebony, bronze and steel,

Thank you wood, oh thank you metal,

Thank you hands that make it real.

This ebullient moment of gratitude makes me cry.

Likewise, from "Old Man in his Garden,"

I'll be thinkin' rain, I'll be hopin' sun,

I'll be dreamin' greener gardens. Is this my last one?

You can see me growin' slower,

But, ah! the grace of the garden grower.

And when we sing, simply, "Cuida el agua, cuida el agua, cuida el agua, cuida la."

Bring me to overwhelming joy.

I listened to a colleague's sermon this morning and was moved in my heart. How can I myself become a minister whose podcasts others listen to, find helpful, welcome in moments when they need to be more centered.

Well. prayers said for my people; intention expressed and optimism asserted. Much of what this morning thing means to me.

Off to a baby naming, child dedication and baptism. My work! Blessed be.