Charges for the Sabbatical Time
By Rev. Dan Smith and Rev. Mary Luti
February 11, 2007
Sabbatical Farewell Sunday
A Charge to Mary Luti for a Sabbatical Time
Rev. Daniel Smith
You’ll all have to forgive me because I need to start this off on a relatively serious note. The humor will come later, I promise. Mary, for over six years you have been pastor, preacher, teaching, mentor, friend a colleague to us, and to me. You have lifted up our collective hearts and minds and spirits with your gorgeous prayers and stellar preaching. You have led us with the light of your attention and awareness of God’s vision for us. You have brought immeasurable joy into this household of God in part because you have made it so clear that there is room for us all here. The warmth of your hospitality and the depth of your faith have been models for us all. How is it that we are saying goodbye to all that for the time being? And how is it that we stand here with you, not sorry for ourselves, but full of gratitude and love and joyful expectation of what will unfold in these coming months, for you and for us?
I’ve shared with some of you a favorite poem, based on Psalm 139, by Howard Thurman. Thurman was Dean on Marsh Chapel at Boston University and a mentor to Martin Luther King Jr. I share just a few lines of his prayerful poem “Thou hast searched me and known me.” Mary, I invite you to pay special attention. I’ll say th lines twice.
In all places….
Where the surge of strength has spent itself in great concentration and I have been left a shaking reed in the wind,
Where hope has mounted until from its quivering height I have seen the glory and wonder of the new dawn of great awakening,
Where the quiet hush of surrender envelops me in the great silence of intimate commitment,
Thou hast known me!
Mary, I’m going to venture a guess that already you can relate to these powerful lines. A surge of strength, wisdom love and leadership spending itself in great concentration for over 6 years of ministry! A mounting sense of hope, glory and wonder that has unfolded here through that time, by God’s grace and under your leadership! The last line may be harder for you and I invite you to take it with you, on this sabbatical time of rest and renewal. Learn deep in your soul what Thurman calls the “quiet hush of surrender” that it may envelop you in a great silence of intimate commitment. Hush! Surrender! Let yourself rest in God’s grace. Do not worry about your life or ours. And even then, you and we will know the intimate commitment of our covenant together and with God.
Mary, take this time and consider the lilies and the grass, how they neither toil nor spin. Let yourself be but a shaking reed in the winds of Spain and France and sitting atop the Green monster of Fenway! God will find and know you in all of these places.
Take this sabbatical time and practice the quiet hush of surrender, knowing that our commitment to each other and to God is strong and true. And, though we promise not to come searching for you, we know we can find you and you will find us, in our hearts, in our prayers, and through the mystery of God’s abiding presence and love that will connect us all.
There are many more things that I could say to you but I wanted you to here this charge not only from me but from the congregation as well. I’ll offer just a few words from members of our congregation. I’ve asked our moderator Gaylen Morgan to speak them with me.
One writes: Mary, know that you are not leaving us in the ways that matter to you, to us and to God. You take us with you, just as we hold you here, in the ways that matter. What you draw from our time apart will serve us all on your return -- we will be nourished, too, by the work of God and reading you do while you're away, and your rest will be our rest. You will grow, as will this community of faith, in the weeks of your sabbatical. And when we are all together again, we'll see how our paths have intertwined, even in our time apart. Because the unity we have and the love we share goes with us everywhere we go. We wish for you and Anne traveling mercies, love, rest, good food, laughter, solitude, learning, reflection, prayer, a renewal of your gifts and God's steady presence and grace.
From another: Yes, we are all going to miss Mary horribly--her laugh, her wisdom, her love and care, her deep understanding, her faith that draws us all closer to God--but grateful beyond belief for the presence of this congregation, for the unfolding gifts that will be revealed, and for Dan. To Mary and Ann---go forth and rest and learn, and come back and teach us, make us wiser for what you have experienced, make us better for what you accomplish, in your writings and thoughts elevate us, take us and others to enlightened places rich in life giving theology--deepen our ability to give and share with others. Have a great adventure and remember that we love you and that we are praying for you as we know you will pray for us.
From another: Mary, while you're away, would you give some thought to putting together a collection of your liturgical writing someday?
From another: I charge Mary with keeping track of the new members of the Red Sox pitching staff while living in Spain...
From another: My husband and I celebrate First Church's commitment to "foster community across every barrier and division," as it says in the Covenant Testimony. I believe that the work Mary and Anne will do while on sabbatical will foster that community with other faiths and other nationalities. We rejoice with them in this opportunity. Peace.
From another: Mary, I'll tape opening day of the Red Sox so you won't have to miss it. Remember, Spanish Soccer does not equal American Football!
And now we close with one more offering, this wonderful blessing for Mary and Anne:
As the fallow field forgets the plow,
not for ever, but for a season,
not for nothing, but for the fruitfulness of the next harvest;
as in sleep we lay aside our thinking,
not for oblivion,
not even just for rest,
but for the mystery of dreams and visions;
and as the field-flowers grow in their perfection,
their being and their doing perfectly at one;
So may this time of sabbatical feed your inmost hearts
to be and to become what God desires for you,
now and forever. Amen.
Charge to the Congregation
Mary Luti
I
Ministers get to do the most amazing things with and for all kinds of people! It’s a fantastic job--and we get paid for it! But it’s also a job that consumes nights and weekends. We’re not infrequently wide awake in the wee hours, praying about a suffering parishioner, a struggling committee, a budget, the sermon.
We are, people say, the last generalists, and burnout is an occupational hazard. But so is its subtle twin, grandiosity—“The place won’t last two minutes without me,” we moan as we work 70-hour weeks. “L’eglise c’est moi!” we secretly believe. And sometimes the church believes it too. Congregations let ministers be the church for them. Sometimes they insist on it, and some of us oblige by becoming (as Fred Buechner once wrote) a “quivering mass of availability.”
And so I charge you, dear church, to remember the three “we-bes” that every congregation should now and then gently but insistently repeat to its pastors —“We be here before you, we be here with you, and we be here after you gone.” I charge you to remember how strong you are, how gifted, how faithful. During this sabbatical time, be the church and know that you are the church—not me, not Dan, not anyone else. Become re-persuaded, in case you have fallen out of the habit of thinking this is so, that the breath of the Spirit is in the Body. And the Body is you!
II
If you’ve ever been to Sea World, you’ve seen dolphins do tricks. They do them every day at 10:00, 1:00, and 4:00. Reading a recent sermon by a UU colleague, I learned (but I can’t vouch for the truth of it) that when old trained dolphins are released back into the ocean, they continue to do the same tricks out there, every day at 10:00, 1:00, and 4:00. Until they die, they are obedient to their training, fixed in their behaviors.
That is poignant, even charming, but it can’t be good. So, during sabbatical, I charge you to break a routine before it’s too late! Get out of some rut you and I have gotten ourselves into these past 6 1/2 years. Even a good and satisfying rut should never be permitted to get too deep. We can always be doing something else, or something better. And please don’t be afraid that when I get back I won’t like what you’ve changed. I probably won’t. But with any luck, sabbatical will have given me renewed spiritual resources for getting over myself. I’ll be fine.
III
Remember the first time your parents left you alone when they went out for the night or took a short vacation? They surely told you something like, “If you need something in an emergency, call Uncle Fred. Number’s on the fridge.” I’m not your parent, Dan is not Uncle Fred. But the point is obvious: You are not alone! You have staff and lay leaders accompanying you all the time. And so I charge you to partner with them and rely on them. And please don’t think you can’t or shouldn’t call on them because they will be too busy now that there are fewer hands on deck. They are here with and for you.
But I also charge you to support them. Pray for them. Check in with them and ask how they are doing. But perhaps the best way to support them is by being faithful to your own ministries here. Do well what you have committed to do. Show up! And if you’ve never been particularly active, this would be a great time to find your gifts for the common good and use them—greeting visitors, providing a ride, leading a discussion, helping clean up after a meal, visiting someone in the hospital. If everyone does something, sabbatical won’t be an exhausting experience for anyone.
IV
Another thing our parents said when they left us alone was, “No parties in the house while we’re gone!” Disobey that one. Throw a good party while I’m gone. I charge you to engage in the festival of enjoyment that comes with a renewed sense of God’s presence, stronger ties with each other, fewer meetings, coming to worship more often, simply breathing.
Another story borrowed from a colleague: An indigenous South American tribe embarked on a long migration. Day after day they marched under a tropical sun. Suddenly they halted, made camp, and stayed put for several days before continuing. One of the youngest members of the band asked an elder, “Why did we stop?” “We had to wait for a while until our souls could catch up with us,” came the reply.
We are an energetic congregation, and we sometimes get ahead of ourselves, leave our souls at the last bend in the relentless road, run out of Breath. So I charge you in this sabbatical time to let the soul of First Church catch up. Try not to make things complicated or difficult in the next few months. Don’t embark on new projects and programs. This is not the time to re-write the by-laws, start a capital campaign, or decide that everyone in the congregation should get busy and learn biblical Greek. Throw a breathing party instead, a celebration of the soul.
V
Finally, I charge you to pray for me. This is my first sabbatical ever, and I confess to you that I find it both inviting and scary. Who knows what God will do? No, I am not going to be looking for another job. I am not leaving. But God does not invite us into a fallow time for nothing, and we can’t know what will be germinating in the darkness while we rest. So pray for me—not just for my anxiety levels to go down, or to be open to God’s work, or even to have a great time. But also so that we will be in this thing together. You and I.
On sabbatical, I should not be involved in daily church doings, but that does not mean we don’t still belong to each other. Our relationship isn’t ending, it’s taking a different form. Nothing is interrupted. We can and we will continue to love, grow, praise, learn, and serve together. One way for us to signal our continued belonging on this journey of faith is to commend each other regularly to God’s heart. Pray for me. I will pray for you. God’s heart is where we will find each other every day. Look for me and Anne there. No matter where the itinerary says we are on any given day, that’s where we’ll be. You be there too.
LET US PRAY.
Holy One,
You have planted us by streams of refreshment,
and given us the gifts of time,
the gift if breath,
the gift of Sabbath rest.
Help us to savor, not squander your gifts.
As you give them,
Open us to receive them eagerly in these next four months.
Bless the people of this church, young and old.
May we always reach out to each other
with laughter, comfort, forbearance, and song.
May we be grateful for this time apart,
participate with a peaceful spirit
in the ministries you entrust to us,
worship you in grateful joy,
serve and love our neighbors,
pray for peace, work for justice,
celebrate what goes well in our life together,
appreciate all good gifts that come from you,
and forgive what falls short of our hopes.
I commend to your care all our lay leaders,
our dear Dan Smith, and all our staff.
Bless each with confidence, insight,
meaning in their ministries,
and delight in each other and in you.
In the ebb and flow of the months ahead,
keep us all safe.
Remind us that we belong to each other,
join us in the depths of your love,
shower us all with courage and grace,
strength and compassion, hope and renewal,
and bring us back to one another with fresh eyes,
joyful hearts, deeper love, and wonderful stories.
Until we meet again,
hold us in the palm of your hand.
Until we meet again,
hold us in the palm of your hand.
We pray all this and more
in the word our savior gave us.