Some Simple Human Thing
The Rev. Joshua Mason Pawelek
Unitarian Universalist Society: East
Manchester, CT
February 25, 2007
In my last sermon I told you that the fundamental question I’ve been asking since beginning my ministry at UUS:E is “Who are we?” I believe finding answers to this question—even answers we know will change over time—provides essential grounding for conducting a meaningful spiritual life. That is, our spiritual life flows out of who we are. But having spent the last six months exploring who we are as Unitarian Universalists, this morning I want to talk about one very critical aspect of what we do at this Unitarian Universalist congregation, or at least what we strive to do, what we hope to do and, in our best moments, what we successfully achieve.
I’m talking about how we provide pastoral care. I’m talking about how we fulfill that part of our mission statement which says, “through shared ministry we care for one another.” Or how we offer, as one of Rachel Naomi Remen’s clients described what she would have preferred instead of silence and absence from her colleague in response to her cancer, “some simple human thing.” Simple words. We care for one another. Simple, but when we scratch the surface, some simple human thing can be profoundly difficult to do.
There are a number of reasons I want to talk about how we care for one another this morning. And to begin, I want to remind all of us about our Pastoral Friends Committee. The Pastoral Friends were started in the 1990s when my predecessor, the Rev. Connie Sternberg, began planning a sabbatical. The prospect of the minister being gone for six months caused some anxiety. (You may begin to feel similar anxiety as we begin approaching my first sabbatical, which will most likely take place in the fall of 2008.)
There were many questions, one of them being, “how would pastoral care happen in Connie’s absence?” Connie answered that question by founding the Pastoral Friends Committee. Since that time the committee has worked very closely with the minister to respond to a wide variety of pastoral concerns in the congregation. Over the years, the Pastoral Friends have made hospital and home visits, driven people to doctor appointments and chemotherapy and radiation treatments, driven children to their activities while their parents were dealing with health concerns, cooked and delivered meals, helped with yard work, cleaning, laundry and even painting, sent cards, bought groceries, counseled people on healthcare proxy and living will documents, counseled people on applying for and receiving government benefits, helped people find housing, presented forums on a variety of pastoral issues, helped in the planning of memorial services, provided hospitality at memorial services, helped identify people in need of a financial gift from the Minister’s Discretionary Fund, and helped design rituals of healing.
I should point out this is not the complete list of the committee’s activities—there’s no end to the shape caring can take; there’s always something that can be done when people are facing a crisis. Remember Rachel Naomi Remen’s essay “Back to Basics.” Yes, we sometimes feel powerless when someone in our presence is in the midst of a pastoral crisis, a health crisis, a personal financial crisis, a family crisis—but even if there is nothing we can do to help solve the problem; even if there are no medical options left; even if there is no way out of the financial crisis; even if the family is falling apart irretrievably, it is still my firm belief there is always some simple human thing we can do. The woman who remembered taking care of her dying mother at age nineteen said “In the end … I just held her and sang.” Some simple human thing. There is no end to the shape caring can take.
Of course, it is also important to say that in eight years of ministry I’ve come to understand we can’t do everything every person would like us to do. We can’t meet every need. No individual can. No congregation can. And if we believe we can, and if we say we can, then we set ourselves up for failure. At the Pastoral Friends Committee we’ve been struggling with how to articulate our response to people whose needs we can’t fully meet. The answer isn’t “No, we can’t help you.” The answer is, “We may not be able to do what you’re asking, but let’s look at what we can do. Let’s stay in relationship. Let’s keep communicating about this situation.” In the very least, let’s figure out some simple human thing we can do so that the person in need feels supported and held by their congregation, rather than abandoned. Some simple human thing.
Over the past few years the Pastoral Friends Committee has been slowly developing what we call a team approach to pastoral care. It’s really very simple. When an individual or family in the congregation is in crisis—either short-term or long-term—and we can identify a set of concrete needs such as meals, rides, visits, advocacy, etc.—a member of the Pastoral Friends Committee gets assigned to the individual or family, and their job is to organize other members and friends of the congregation into a team to help meet those needs. In this way, Pastoral Friends increases the number of people who participate in UUS:E’s mission to care for one another.
We currently have a list of thirty-three people who’ve agreed to engage in these kinds of tasks as the needs arise, and we are deeply thankful for all those who participate when asked. This truly is one of the ways we share ministry in this congregation. However, the list has not been updated in a while. Many of you have not had an opportunity to say, “I want to be part of this shared ministry.” And frankly, for a congregation our size, I don’t think 33 people is enough. I would like to see that list grow to 100 people. In fact, I’d like to see the list grow to 100 people this morning! Will you be part of this shared ministry? There will be a sign-up sheet in the foyer following the service. I would like us to add 67 names to our list and get it up to 100 people who are willing and able to do some simple human thing for those in crisis. Can I get an amen? How about a hallelujah?
There is much caring that happens in this congregation that the Pastoral Friends have nothing to do with, and it is always wonderful to see people gather around each other in times of crisis. But in the event you find yourself in some sort of crisis, please do not hesitate to contact me or a member of the Pastoral Friends Committee. Gail Crook is the current committee chair. Other members include Sally Gifford, Susan Bosworth, David Garnes, Sue McMillan, Jean Labutis, and Sarah Karstaedt. Any of them is willing to meet with you and help you think through how the congregation can best be present to you in your times of struggle.
Our pending capital campaign and building expansion are the second reason I want to speak about that part of our mission which calls us to care for one another. The capital campaign and building expansion pose two direct, difficult challenges to our ability to fulfill our mission of caring—one short term, the other long term—and I want to name them now, before we conduct the capital campaign and before we vote to move forward with construction.
Short term—very simply: the capital campaign and building expansion are like climbing the mountain in that last reading from Rachel Naomi Remen. It’s a wonderful mountain. It’s great to be climbing—it’s exciting; it’s challenging; it’s healthy to be out in the fresh air, and the view from the peak is incredible. But the lesson of the story is the mountain gets between us. If you’re deeply involved in planning for the capital campaign and the annual appeal, or if you’re part of the Project Management Committee or the Project Finance Committee or the Policy Board or Program Council—and there are a lot of you—don’t let the mountain get between us. If you’re not so involved, if you find yourself more on the fringes of all the activity and excitement—and obviously not everyone can be deeply involved in the planning—don’t let the mountain get between us. Capital campaigns are stressful. Building projects are stressful and highly disruptive to normal congregational life. Don’t let the mountain get between us. Our mission doesn’t say “Conduct a capital campaign and expand the building.” Our mission says, “through shared ministry we care for one another.”
The capital campaign and building expansion are nothing more than strategies to help us do what we do better for more people. And what we do is care for one another and nurture the search for truth and meaning as part of lifelong spiritual growth, and live our Unitarian Universalist principles in our daily lives, including working for peace and justice and living in harmony with the earth. That is our mission. Through all the stress and disruption and joy and fun and excitement and novelty of the capital campaign and building expansion, let us stay connected to one another. Let us keep caring for one another. Let us keep each other, always, in our hearts. In every moment, let us ask ourselves, “what is some simple human thing we can do to care for one another?”
The capital campaign and building expansion are tasks—complicated, immense, challenging, wonderful, visionary tasks. I have faith—deep faith—we will succeed beyond our wildest dreams as long as the tasks do not get between us. Can I get an amen? Can I get a hallelujah?
Long term—harder to imagine, but important to consider now. Imagine a congregation with 500 members, 250 children and youth, two full-time parish ministers and two or three community ministers, a youth minister, two full-time office staff, three Sunday services, a comprehensive adult religious education ministry, a commanding social justice presence in Manchester and the greater Hartford region, a store-front Universalist chapel in downtown Manchester, a variety of shared projects with the five UU congregations east of the Connecticut river—I’m just having fun, but imagine us six to eight years down the road: many of these things could come to pass. Here’s the point (which is counter-intuitive to me): when congregations grow, it becomes more and more difficult for people to connect. It becomes more and more difficult for people to care for one another. It becomes more and more difficult to do some simple human thing to support someone in a moment of crisis. Not on my watch. This is my promise to you: not on my watch. If we lose our capacity to care for one another, then we have failed. If the price of growth is a loss of intimacy, a loss of caring, a loss of being there for each other, it isn’t worth it.
I have deep faith we won’t have to pay this price. If I know this congregation, you will refuse to pay this price. You want to grow; you want to realize your full potential; you want to be that powerful, inspiring liberal religious, Unitarian Univeraslist voice of reason and questioning, acceptance, inclusivity, love and justice in an era of fundamentalism, factionalism, fanaticism and fear. But you also want to stay connected to each other. You want substantive relationships. You want to stay true to your mission of caring for one another. You want community. In short, you want to maintain the small, pastoral church identity as you grow larger. I believe you can do it, and I discern more and more that this is what you are charging me to focus on as your parish minister in the coming years, and it is a charge I accept. Can I get an amen? Can I get a hallelujah?
Through shared ministry we care for one another. Simple words, but again, when we scratch the surface, we realize caring for one another can be very difficult to do, especially in times of growth. It requires intention. It requires a willingness to drop what we’re doing and pay attention to the other, to be with each other in our times of pain and sorrow. It requires self-knowledge—an understanding of our own limits and what we can and can’t handle. It requires patience and listening. None of this is easy. For the last decade I’ve turned to the work of Rachel Naomi Remen to remind me what caring means, and how one does it. This morning I take from two lessons which have woven themselves through this service.
First, let the task not get between us. There is no task so important it should eclipse our ability to relate to each other. In fact, building our relationships should be the goal of everything we do. If coming to worship on Sunday morning does not expand our relationships, then we need to rethink how we worship. If conducting a capital campaign does not build relationships, then we need to rethink how we conduct the capital campaign. If working for justice does not deepen our relationships, then we need to rethink how we work for justice. Relationships are fundamental. Some religions are held together by doctrines. Ours is held together by relationships. We provide the best care to each other when our relationships are strong.
Second, let us know that at our core, what we all need and what we all can give is some simple human thing. We don’t have to be experts. We don’t have to know the right words to say—often there simply aren’t right words. We don’t have to worry about making mistakes—we will make them! We don’t have to have answers. We don’t have to make judgments, about others or ourselves. But there is always something we can do. There is no end to the shape caring can take. So, let us be present to each other. Our presence is healing. Let us affirm and bear witness to each other’s pain and sorrow. Our affirmation and witness is healing. Let us listen to each other. Our listening is healing. Let us encourage each other. Our encouragement is healing. Let us accompany each other into those difficult times and spaces of our lives. Our accompanying is healing. Presence, affirmation, witness, listening, encouraging, accompanying. I might add smiling; crying; laughing; saying “I’m sorry;” asking, “is there anything I can do;” pronouncing the words, “I’ll go with you;” and when all else fails, being silent. Even our silent presence is healing.
Friends, we are about to enter a very exciting and stressful time in the life of our congregation—and even if that weren’t the case, my prayer for us on this day would be the same—in the midst of human need, in the midst of human suffering, may we be doers of some simple human thing.
Amen and Blessed be.