Installation of Reverend Amy Isabel Zucker

January 11, 2004
Palo Alto, CA

Act of Installation & Declaration of Covenants

Charge to the Congregation (Rev. Kathy Huff)

Charge to the Minister ( Rev. Daniel S. Schatz)

Radical Hospitality

Sermon by the Rev. Jane Dwinell

What words can I possibly offer you and Amy as you embark upon this journey together? I'm sure all kinds of people have given you advice, and will give you advice, in the past, today, and for months and years to come. Oh, how people love to give advice.

Well, here's mine.

Long before I was a minister, I was a nurse. For many years, I helped women have babies at Vermont's first in-hospital birthing center. It was exciting work. You never knew when a woman showed up in labor how soon the baby would be born, how the woman and her partner would handle it, whether or not the baby would be OK, whether the woman would be OK, what kinds of complications or challenges or complete 100% normalcy there would be, what kind of person the new member of the family.

It was always a great big mystery, and I think that's one reason why I loved it so.

It was completely the same - and always different. Sure there are the physiological facts' the uterus has to do its work, open up and expel the baby. The woman has to work with her uterus. The baby's heartbeat needs to stay strong and steady showing that he or she is handling the stress of contractions. Everything has to be in readiness in case of emergency - an operating room nearby, intravenous equipment, resuscitation equipment, bed warmers, clean towels, and something to clamp and cut the cord.

But so much of it is not about these complications - that happened maybe 5 or 10% of the time. Most of it was about being with the woman, being in readiness for the child, waiting, watching, and then being welcoming.

What a gift it is when a baby emerges, to take a first breath and open its eyes! What is the baby thinking, if anything? What is the baby feeling? What sensations are prominent? Is there joy? Trepidation? Downright fear? Hope? Love?

What is the woman feeling and thinking as she reaches down to lift her baby unto her belly? What is her partner and family thinking and feeling - will this baby replace me? Will this baby love me? Will I be able to provide for this baby?

They have no idea who the baby will be. There is no ordering babies out of a catalog as much as scientists think they can determine physical characteristics, gender, and intelligence with the right combination of egg and sperm.

But, no. The baby is the baby. Maybe there will be blue eyes and straight blond hair, or deep rich brown eyes and lush, curly dark hair. Maybe the baby will be athletic and coordinated, maybe clumsy and slow. Maybe the baby will want to eat all the time, maybe not. Maybe the baby will sleep through the night at 6 weeks, and maybe that first good night's sleep will come at age 5 or 6.

It's all a crapshoot. And it's all a mystery.

But the parents and the family and friends welcome the baby anyway. They hold that newborn and coo over it and pass it around. They fuss whether the baby is warm enough or too warm, wet or dry, full or hungry. They comment on features: grandpa's big nose, dad's cleft in the chin, Aunt Susie's long toes, mom's delicate ears.

They pay attention. They bask in the glow of a new life. They welcome that baby, whoever he or she is.

Then those first few days turn into weeks and months. It's not all sunshine and roses. The baby is cranky or has colic. The parents don't like to have their sleep interrupted. The siblings resent the ever-nursing usurper. Everyone - periodically - wants to go back to the way things always were before, when we were happy, when we could sleep, when we could have time for an uninterrupted conversation.

But now, there is no going back. There is only going forward, working with what you've got, and remembering to stop to breathe now and then, remembering why you bothered to want to create a family to begin with. Relationships are challenging, and growth-producing, as all the people involved learn about one another and how to be with one another.

Kind of like a church community.

While no one here is the parent or the child, it may feel at times, that there's a bunch of siblings running around! There are those who want their voices heard over the din, or who want to be noticed and considered special, or who don't and wander off to their own corner where they will feel safe.

There are relationships all over the place. And with each newcomer that walks through the door, there's a new person to accept and understand - another relationship to work on, find a home for.

No one walks through these doors without a reason - and it is up to you - all of you - to make that person feel welcome and a part of the community.

It's not up to a committee, or to Amy, or the day’s designated greeter.

It's up to you.

Everyone has equal responsibility here, just like in a family. Oh sure, the biological mother is the only one who can nurse the baby, but everyone can provide for each other, take turns changing diapers, and entertaining the cranky baby. Because if everyone doesn't work together to care for one another as individuals, and the family as a whole, it's just not going to be a healthy, growing place to be.

I'm sure most of you have heard the old Hebrew story about the monastery that had fallen on hard times. There were only a handful of elderly monks, and no young men wanted to join their ranks. One day, the abbot went to visit his old friend the rabbi, to read scripture together and talk.

The abbot, pouring his heart out to his friend, the rabbi, spoke of the dying monastery. The rabbi listened carefully, they sat in silence, then prayed together. As they parted, the rabbi spoke:

"One of you is the Messiah."

And the abbot wondered what he could possibly mean by that.

When the abbot returned to the monastery, he shared with the monks the rabbi's parting words: One of you is the Messiah.

How could that be?

Brother Eldred is so grumpy, and Brother Phillip.. well, he's pretty boring. Brother Thomas is a holy man, maybe it's him, or the abbot. He is the abbot, after all. Then there's me. But, but, but what if it's me? Maybe it's me?

Too much to think about. In prayer and in meditation, each monk considered the possibility that the Messiah was among them, and in daily life began to treat one another better - with respect and care - because, well, maybe one of them WAS the Messiah.

And lo and behold, the place began to bloom, filled as it was with care and love and respect. People began to be attracted to the place, to come and picnic with their families or to stop by the chapel to pray. Young men began to ask to join the monks, and after a few years the monastery was a joyful, light-filled place – providing sanctuary, hope, and love to many.

At Christmastime, many of us recite the words of Sophia Fahs: Every night a child is born is a holy night.

And I know that. From birthing my own babies, to being present at several hundred other births, I know that each parent, each witness wonders: is this the Child who will come to save us? Will this Child make a difference in the world? What gifts will this Child bring?

As with each baby that is born, and as with each old monk, let us ask of ourselves and each other: are you the Messiah? Are you The Holy One?

Certainly, we can have no definitive answer to this question, not at this juncture.

But does that really matter?

What if we opened our hearts to the possibility that someone, that anyone - look around you - could be a Holy One?

What if we treated each other with that kind of respect?

What if we allowed everyone who walks through our doors to be who they are, fully, with their gifts and weaknesses, their beauty and their ugliness?

That is the definition of Radical Hospitality.

To accept that everyone is not like me - how boring that would be if we were all the same! - and that everyone has needs and gifts as part of this community of faith, some different, some the same.

To be open to possibilities and change and scary moments.

To prepare a table to welcome the guest, the stranger.

To work together to create heaven on earth.

It's not Amy's job to do that alone. Without you – the community – she has no purpose, no reason for being. She might as well pack up and go back to Vermont.

You are the reason for this congregation's place in the world. You are the ones with the gifts, the needs, the ideas, the energy, the joys and the sorrows.

So ask yourselves, why are you all here and what can you accomplish together?

The gestation may seem long, and the birthing pangs hard, but the expectation is great. Amy, the midwife, is here to coax, cajole, soothe, wipe your brow, and push you to stay with it when the going gets hard. She's here to see that the baby is born safely and that the mother has no life-threatening complications. She's here to guide, and to educate, and to rejoice with you.

But it's up to each one of you to show up, pay attention, and to welcome each person as if they were the Messiah.

Because you never know.

Blessed be and Amen.

Unitarian Universalist Church of Palo Alto