Unitarian Universalist Church of Palo Alto

Reflection: Association Sunday

Wynne Furth
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Palo Alto, CA

When I first came to this church some years ago, what I wanted, and needed, and found, was a place to come and be on Sunday mornings, to hear the service, to sing the hymns, perhaps most of all to contemplate the lovely, blank wall in front of me with its beautiful madrone branch, and to mourn the work, the community, and the church I had left behind me when I moved here. It is not politically correct in Northern California to mourn Los Angeles, but I did.

And in my sorrow, I was happy to watch the light filter into this space, to trace the patterns on the banners over and over in my mind, to watch the chalice flame, to listen to the ring of the gong fade into silence.

And I did not join committees, and I had no desire to go to Bass Lake, and I never quite made it to Circle Diners, and I was completely confused about all the various groups that meet here. And then I went to the auction, and I bid on breakfast at the Bells, and some sort of strange gathering involving Nordic food rituals, and a brunch, and I went to these things. And since I felt sort of awkward wandering around at the auction, I volunteered to work in the kitchen. (Not, as my husband points out, something I’m likely to do at home.)

And on Sunday mornings, I listened to my companions in this congregation talk about their experiences, in this church and in their wider lives, and it began to be a little less lonely. And I still miss my former work and community, and my garden with its towering pines and camellias, and its view of snowy mountains. But this began to be my church.

And last summer, I went as one of our delegates to the General Assembly of the Unitarian Universalist Association of Congregations in Portland. In over fifty years of participation in Unitarian churches, I’d never been to GA, and I hadn’t missed it a bit. Well, I’ve been now and it was great and I wouldn’t mind going back some day.

General Assembly is a big, democratic, religious conversation, where among other things, people who have said that they respect the worth and dignity of each person put that in to practice.

I work as an adviser to cities, and in particular, to city councils. Most of their work of gets done, day in and day out, behind the scenes. But for me, the essential part of it is the public meetings where we are all invited to come together and govern ourselves. And we are SO irritating. And wonderful. And again, for me, these are sacred times and spaces, where we literally create community.

It doesn’t always work of course. It it goes well, if hope and anxiety and rancor and vision are transformed with reason and charm and patience and humor into some sort of consensus, or even just a majority decision, (because democracy is not about getting your own way, but about staying in the game); if it is a meeting where everyone knows they were heard, and where a way forward is glimpsed, that is a transcendent joy.

So I wanted to see how the GA’s conference of delegates would be — hundreds of voting delegates and all of them Unitarian Universalists.

I knew that our denomination is studying a proposal to become a peace church, one that renounces all war and all use of force, and I was a little freaked. We’ve torn ourselves apart over such issues before. But this is a three-year study action, so our GA delegates will not vote on the proposal in 2008. This year is a year for congregational study. I look forward to that. And more importantly, having watched GA in action in Portland, I’m pretty confident that we will manage to have that discussion and that it won’t be schismatic. (“Schism,” of course, is the technical term for some of us picking up our marbles and going home.)

So, how does the General Assembly work?

First, people worked very very hard to create a smooth, but not too smooth, process — problems physical and metaphysical are anticipated and prepared for. After that it’s all improvisation.

Second, we had daily updates from a sensitivity squad about how we were doing — when we were estranging people, how we might do better. This message was delivered by young adults who managed to be serious and whimsical and while not being the thought police.

Third, there was singing — group singing with the words up on those big screens. I’m not sure this would work at Palo Alto City Council, but it’s a nice vision.

Fourth, we had our genius Moderator. I have a list of heroes, women whose empathic listening and clear speaking send shivers down my spine. Gini Colter’s on the list. She let us know that we had procedures and would follow them except when it was better not to do so, and that people would be heard, and that we WOULD make a decision and get to dinner too.

Part of Gini’s skill at this is a world-class lack of defensiveness. As far as I can tell, she was completely sincere in reporting, with gratitude, the criticism she had received for comments on “third world conditions in New Orleans” at an early session. I want to be like that. I’m more inclined to experience criticism as a hit and hit right back.

Fifth, there was us. We knew, we’ve agreed, that we want to treat each other well, to listen. We want “what on earth are you thinking” to be more than a rhetorical question. We cut each other some slack. It was lovely.

And finally, I suppose I would say that we were in the presence of the spirit. Whether that spirit was holy is for each of you to decide; I can report it was real.

 

Sermon: Our Home Away from Home by Rev. Amy Zucker Morgenstern