firstparishmedfield.org

What if There Was No FPUU?

What If There Was No FPUU in Medfield

Given at First Parish Unitarian Universalist

Medfield, Massachusetts, March 25, 2012

Rev. Richard M. Stower

Cathedral Builders

By John Ormond

They climbed on sketchy ladders towards God,
With wince and pulley hoisted hewn rock into heaven,
Inhabited sky with hammers, defied gravity,
Deified stone, took up God's house to meet Him.

And came down to their suppers and small beer;
Every night slept, lay with their smelly wives,
Quarrelled and cuffed the children, lied,
Spat, sang, were happy or unhappy.

And every day took to the ladders again;
Impeded the rights of way of another summer's
Swallows; grew greyer, shakier, became less inclined
To fix a neighbour's roof of a fine evening.

Saw naves sprout arches, clerestories soar,
Cursed the loud fancy glaziers for their luck,
Somehow escaped the plague, got rheumatism,
Decided it was time to give it up.

To leave the spire to others; and stood in the crowd,
Well back from the vestments at the consecration,
Envied the fat bishop his warm boots,
Cocked up a squint eye and said, "I bloody did that."


SERMON

On our last visit to Europe three years ago, my wife Nancy and I went to Egerton, a small village in Kent to see St. James parish, a 13th century church where First Parish in Scituate’s minister, the Rev. John Lothrop, served as vicar before he became the leader of an illegal Separatist Puritan congregation in London in the 1620s. The church has a bit more square footage than here at First Parish in Medfield but not much. The altar was a simple table. Along the walls are beautiful, but modest stained glass windows and memorial plaques with the names of men and women who have made significant contributions to the life of the church. There is also a crypt where a knight lays in rest. The pews have cushions that have been lovingly decorated in petit point by the women of the church.

 

The next day, Nancy and I went to Canterbury, to see the Cathedral, 200 years older than St. James in Egerton. Considerably larger and more elaborate than St. James, Canterbury Cathedral has high soaring vaulted ceilings, and magnificent stained glass windows. The Quire, the area between the nave and sanctuary, has beautifully carved wooden seats where we sat later that day for an Evensong Service, where the voices of the boy’s choir seemed to echo in the heavens. As we walked inside the cathedral I noticed graffiti, names scratched in modern times by knives, pens and pencils along the walls. I asked a
guide if there might be graffiti left by the stonecutters, masons, carpenters who built the cathedral. He took us into a room and showed us some shallow scratching, that when you looked closely, you could see the faint outline of a scene of a knight coming home from a crusade. There were other pictures as well, left by builders, long since gone. Along the South façade, scaffolding was up as that part of the cathedral was being restored. Nancy and I can’t seem to visit a cathedral whether it is Salisbury or Notre Dame in Paris without some major restoration project obscuring part or all of the exteriors of the buildings. But in its way, it made the point to me that a church is constantly being restored, always being renewed whether it is the building itself or the
congregation within. People who constantly work on renewing a house of worship, be it a church, a cathedral, a temple, or a mosque have a common purpose: to keep their religious home and their community alive. The work of an 11th century stonecutter and a 21st century parishioner is the same: they are acts of faith.

 

This sermon, to begin this year’s Annual Fund Drive, is essentially about having faith… it’s about believing… It’s about giving of ourselves in service to something that we cannot see fully – of which we may catch only glimpses in our brief lifetimes; of
something we are building but will never see finished. This sermon is about building cathedrals.


Patterns, connections, contact. What is a house of worship, a sacred community, but a  place where we form the patterns of our lives? What is the church but an environment  where we connect with those who share a vision of life with us and help us realize it?  What is the church but a point of contact with the Ultimate, however we name it and with those people with whom we make the religious journey? It can be lonely out there in the world. We seek to overcome the isolation within a beloved community. How
important is this community to you?

 

In the end, that is probably the number one reason people need the church. We need relationships. Like the old sitcom, Cheers, the bar where everybody knows your name, church is where people know your name and they genuinely care about you if you give them half a chance. Like the characters in Cheers, we might have quirky people here, but we accept them, warts and all, because church is where we help each other deal with life’s ups and downs. We care for each other, we pray for each other, we teach each other, we are here when a family member dies or a serious illness hits. We make meals for each other to transfer the care and love from one to another. We sing as a choir together to share the joy of rehearsing music. We gather around a dinner table to share a bit of our lives with each other. People need other people to care, and we need to serve others to really discover, deep down, satisfaction in life.

 

The question before us is what sort of cathedral are we building here? – and I’m not talking about a stone-and-mortar building. I’m asking, “What kind of legacy are we building, what cathedral-like work are we engaged in, what we will be able to look back
on and say like, John Ormond’s cathedral builder, ‘I – we – bloody did that!’?” We recognize one of the truths of all the world’s great religions: that generosity is central to a healthy spiritual life. We believe in the ancient practice of giving as a spiritual
exercise, used like any other meditation practice to deepen and strengthen the soul. In our tradition, the spirit of generosity is its own intrinsic reward. We do not give to guarantee a ticket to heaven. It does not guarantee wealth or happiness in this life. It does not provide a life of luxury for the object of a cult of personality. But it does offer the deeper satisfaction of nurturing the Web of Life, which is bigger than we can ever imagine and more mysterious than we can ever describe. The spirit of generosity means giving back to a Source we cannot easily name and contributing to the welfare of brothers and sisters we will never meet. And yet it is deeply rewarding. Our faith calls us to welcome the stranger at the door, to share our resources with others in need, and to care for our planet. This is the meaning of Stewardship. But what about ourselves and our community? As Unitarian Universalists, we believe it is the right and responsibility of each local  congregation to govern itself. There is no centralized authority that supports us  financially, nor does it tell us what to do or what to believe. Each UU congregation is  self-sustaining: our primary source of financial support comes from our members who make financial gifts to the church. As a group of people covenanted together into a church, we believe that a financially healthy church is the responsibility of all members. We also know that if this church and this faith are to live into the future for our children and grandchildren, we must care for this institution, and keep it strong. The money you give to First Parish should be a reminder that the income we earn does  not define who we are. It is the work that we do professionally, and in the volunteer work  we do. We live out our Unitarian Universalist values as best we can in all we do. And to whatever person or organization we give to, teaches us to place our trust in something other than money, to understand that our security does not lie in material things but rather in community.

 

Although the economy seems to be getting better, we are still living in a time of uncertainty about our personal finances. We are beginning, I think, to reconsider how we  spend our money and what is truly important in our lives. If once we felt the urge to fill the void from the outside in, now we are realizing that whatever void we feel the need to fill, whatever reassures us, whatever encourages us to lead a meaningful life, follows the path of inside out; from a fear of scarcity to a spirit of generosity, from a sense of what we don’t have, to a commitment to what we want to share, from holding on to letting go.

 

From ancient times people would bring offerings to a place of community, often a temple where people worshipped. They would bring whatever was of value to them. It was a sacrifice, an act to appease the gods to protect not just an individual but also a  community. Our modern version of the offering is carried out each Sunday morning when we pass the plate and once a year, as we do today, to ask you to make a pledge to the church that you will keep for the coming year. Our offerings are less tangible than in ancient times – we offer checks and currency instead of livestock, but still it is the product of the work of our hands, nonetheless. It is our hard work made into currency. And those hours of work have power: the power to provide, to grow, to shape our world,  to build things that will outlast generations.

 

So, what gift can you give that will be meaningful to you – let me repeat that important word – meaningful. What gift can you give that will give you strength and clarity in the months ahead? What gift would be exciting and nourishing to your own spirit? This is  how we should give.

 

We are, like the grandest cathedrals, always renewing our purpose and ourselves. Any congregation, in the largest cathedral or in the smallest and unadorned chapel, is always the gift of those common people who love it and who work for it and who support it, as they are able. It is the love of its congregation that ultimately sanctifies a church or a temple or a meetinghouse and makes of it a sanctuary, a holy place, and a community that transcends time.


Rev. Patrick O’Neill, a Unitarian Universalist minister, reminds us that a church is, when all is said and done its people, and what they bring to it – their faith, their vision, their collective hopes and dreams, their memories and their customs, their history and their prayers, their good works and their values. And what community we are able to create here for ourselves is like that stained glass window behind me, pieced together always with painstaking love and unending patience, each one of us – shoemaker, candlestick maker, weaver, doctor, lawyer, teacher, engineer, mother, father, sales rep, archivist, painter, poet, accountant, businessman or woman, bringing one more piece of stained glass, one more stone, one more carving, in sum, one more piece of ourselves

 

Like those ancient stonecutters and masons who built Canterbury Cathedral a thousand years ago, people want to leave their mark on a church. I ask you this morning to leave your mark on this church, on this congregation, by being generous – generous to yourselves and to your church home, so we can say loudly, in one voice, I bloody did that!”

 

This morning I ask you to imagine what it would be like if First Parish in Medfield one day decided to get up and move out of town like some factory moving down south, or equally as bad, it shut its doors because no one came inside. If this were to happen in
Medfield I would hope that the selectman and other community leaders would rush up North Street and plead with me and the Executive Board to stay.

 

We stand tall in the middle of Medfield. Still, what arguments would the selectman use to keep us here? I would plead for this church to stay because it has been here for 361 years. Town leaders would understand how important we are to the community and surrounding towns. Think of how many of us have been a part of town governments. How many of us volunteer in town programs? We bring our Unitarian Universalist values to this town. There might not be a Farmer’s Market, or a meeting place for the Medfield Historical Society or the Garden Club to make its Christmas decorations, or a place for the Medfield Singers to rehearse and a place for AA to offer each other support.

 

If I were a community leader I would plead for this church to stay because there is no other religious community in this town, which as its defining characteristic, understands the individual search for meaning and truth and celebrates it within a community of faith. I would plead for this church to stay because it is the voice of conscience in this town. And in a religiously conservative area there would be no religious community standing on the side of love, opening its doors to people for who they are, not what they are. No other religious community in this town openly proclaims itself as a welcoming congregation to all no matter ones race, color, national origin or sexual identity.

 

The church needs money to do and be these things. It needs money for RE supplies and music. It needs money for our outreach programs. It needs money to attract a high quality Director of Religious Education. It needs money to pay Eva for her wonderful music, and yes, it needs money to pay the minister. And one other thing: I’m not one who has an edifice complex…but. There are many houses of worship that are beautiful buildings but there is no activity, no life within and about their walls. Our church building says something about us, just like our individual homes. How we take care of it says something about ourselves as a congregation. It is clear to just about all of us that we need to do something about the U House. This takes money.

 

On that same European trip that took us to England we went to Krakow, Poland to walk the streets of the ghetto my great-grandparents walked. We searched for the Isaac synagogue where my ancestors probably worshipped. This synagogue was funded by one of the wealthiest merchants of 17th century Krakow, Isaac Jakubowicz, at the wish of his wife, Brandla, and it was built just a few years after the gathering of First Parish in Medfield. The synagogue was intended to be an expression of thanks for the good fortune and luck enjoyed by his family.

 

There is a legend tied to the synagogue. The first revolves around a miraculous dream that Isaac Jakubowicz had when he was young and impoverished in Krakow. He dreamed that there was a treasure buried under a bridge in Prague. He eventually found a way to make it to Prague, but the bridge about which he had dreamed was surrounded by soldiers and there was no way to go about looking for the treasure. Young Isaac decided to tell a soldier about his dream. The soldier burst into laughter, and replied that he, too, had dreamed of a treasure, but that in his dream the treasure was located under the stove of Isaac, some poor Jew from Krakow. Isaac returned to his home, moved his stove, and found an enormous treasure. Inspired by this dream Isaac expanded his business, but he also build the most beautiful synagogue in the city.

 

History has not been kind to Isaac and his synagogue. Over the centuries it has been robbed and vandalized, and then on December 5, 1939, the Gestapo came to the temple and ordered the caretaker to burn the scrolls of the Torah. When he refused, he was shot dead. What remains of the synagogue today are bits of the original walls plastered into their original places. Where once frescos, ornate calligraphy and the names of benefactors were on those walls, now it is mostly blank plaster except for those few original fragments. Once it was among the largest of the synagogues in Krakow. Now it is a museum.

 

There are two lessons for us in this story of Isaac’s synagogue. One is that our treasure is right here within these walls. It is in this place; it is within us and we are its stewards. The other lesson is that, as much as I love history, I don’t want this place, this sacred space, to become a museum. First Parish is a living, breathing being. It gives us all breath.

 

First Parish in Medfield is at a crossroads. Soon you will begin to search for a new minister in earnest. You want to present an honest picture to ministers so that they will want to part of this community. One way you can present yourselves is by showing you generously support your church and that it is on a strong financial foundation. The Annual Fund Committee, the Executive Board and I ask you to be as generous as you can be – and maybe a bit more. We are not – repeat, not - asking you to balance the church’s budget. We are not – repeat, not – asking you to give to First Parish as you would the American Cancer Society, Amnesty International, the Nature Conservancy, or even the UU Urban Ministry and Renewal House. These and other charities may along the way help you but we give to them so that they may help others. But, let me say again, - and I am honored that Buck Buchanan quoted me last week - this church is not a charity. It is you home. We come here to learn, to grow, to seek, to find. The other day one of the candidates we interviewed for the DRE position said that teaching our children transforms the teacher as much as it educates the children. One of teachers of the Neighboring Faiths said the other day that it was the best thing she ever did. Lives are changed, celebrated, and mourned in this place.

 

Again, when considering how much to pledge to First Parish for the coming year, I ask that you give serious thought to what First Parish is, what it means to you, and what it can become. We want to ensure that the fruits we enjoy today are enjoyed by generations to come. Please be generous.

Here, in this place, we lay stones for a building that we will never see finished. We plant the seeds of trees we will never see grow to their full height.

 

Here, in this place, we share the breath of life, our spirit, our soul.

 

Here is the place that holds the lamp of truth high, leading us on our journey.

 

Here is the place where the flame of justice never waivers; where the glow from the warmth of those within these walls never cools but radiates out from this building and is felt well beyond the borders of this town.

So be it.

AMEN