Unitarian Universalist Meeting of South Berkshire
April 20, 2008
“Reflections on Ministry”
Rev. Kathy Duhon
Beloveds, I am so pleased to celebrate the anniversary of my ordination with all of you today and I am grateful for this chance to reflect upon ministry. And where else to begin these lofty thoughts but with some humor?
A preacher, who, shall we say, was "humor impaired," (to which I can relate), attended a conference to help encourage and better equip pastors for their ministry.
Among the speakers were many well known, dynamic ministers. One such minister boldly approached the pulpit and, gathering the entire crowd's attention, said, "Some of the best years of my life were spent in the arms of a woman who was not my wife!" The crowd was shocked! He followed up by saying, "And that woman was my mother!" The crowd burst into laughter and he delivered the rest of his talk, which went over quite well.
The next week, the pastor decided he'd give this humor thing a try, and use that joke in his sermon. As he approached the pulpit that sunny Sunday, he tried to rehearse the joke in his head. It suddenly seemed a bit foggy to him.
Getting to the microphone he said loudly, "The greatest years of my life were spent in the arms of another woman who was not my wife!" The congregation inhaled half the air in the room. After standing there for almost 10 seconds in the stunned silence, trying to recall the punch-line of the joke, the pastor finally blurted out, "...and I can't remember who she was!"
The best jokes out there are minister jokes, truly. A lot better than lawyer jokes, another profession I had seriously considered, or yo’ Mama jokes, the other major occupation I’ve had.
The ministry is not only a good joke waiting to happen, though. I had reasons for why I wanted to become a minister and I thought about them recently.
At the beginning of my essay on this topic, which I presented to the UU Ministerial Fellowship Committee, tasked with deciding whether I was fit enough to be a minister, I began, “Ministry claims me.” That’s still true. I tried to run away from the calling for years, but you can’t forever, and I answered this call. I am called forth from community, called out from my deepest self, and called upon by all that is holy. I believe that I am called to be an instrument of Beloved Belonging through the Unitarian Universalist ministry, a ministry that weaves together comfort and challenge, meditation and celebration, healing and transformation, grace and joy. Thank you for calling me and for continuing to walk with me on this path.
Ten years ago my good friend and colleague in the UU ministry, Martha Niebanck, gathered everyone together during my ordination to do the traditional laying on of hands, while she gave the prayer of ordination. I found myself at the center of a massive surge of bodies, but I was not crushed, though that powerful gathered spirit was truly amazing. Here is some of what Martha said in her prayer, birthed through many deep conversations of the spirit between us:
Spirit that flows through our breath,
Spirit that animates our ministries,
Spirit that unites us into one body,
be with us now as we bless the ordination of Kathy Duhon,
Daughter of the Church Universal.
In the touch of your spirit may we be reminded that
the pulse of our living carries the life force
of those who have gone before: (and she named many of my sacred guides)
May this present moment sustain Kathrene Marie Duhon
with grace as she serves as an instrument of peace.
May this present moment inspire the ministries
among and between us, named and unnamed,
into the generations to follow.
May this present moment feed the world’s hunger
for justice,
for wisdom,
for compassion.
What a way to be welcomed into the ministry! The entire ordination service was so beautiful, so meaningful, and I am grateful for it. You ordained me, as a congregation, a rare event that not all congregations have done. Then, you called me into ministry with this congregation and this community, a separate event. First, you ordained me into ministry, once and forever, and for all.
When you ordained me and when you called me, it was never meant to be a job hire to take care of you, and only you, but always my ministry has been broader than this congregation, and it always will be. This is a small town area – all the clergy serve the community at large some of the time. Sometimes we serve each other’s congregants directly, or the unchurched.
Wherever I go, I am a minister. One priest I know used to go on vacation and say that he was a lion tamer, a wonderful absurdity to protect his relaxation. Otherwise, they hear you are clergy, and suddenly the jokes get adjusted, and many folks seize the opportunity. “Here is a person,” they think, “who obviously would like to talk to me about ‘all things that matter’, especially my personal crises and spiritual questions. When some people meet a dentist, they can’t resist opening their mouths, but when they meet a minister, they sometimes open their souls. At least they don’t ask a dentist to fill a cavity right then and there. But I have been compelled into intense pastoral care in the grocery check-out line and on the sidewalk, and I have been asked to pray in the moment, sometimes in front of a large group, when they suddenly realized a minister was there.
Ah, but ministers are prepared for the spontaneous, at least somewhat. At least I have come to expect ministry to happen anywhere, anytime, with anyone. Thankfully, I am given leeway, believed in beyond what may be warranted.
An elder colleague of mine, Gordon McKeeman, whom we heard from today in the reading, also wrote about this spontaneous nature of ministry and his need to have some strategy for it. So he carried an all occasion prayer with him in his wallet, and eventually gave it to other ministers as a kind of insurance policy for this challenging aspect of our ministry. He uses some lovely words, including some of my favorites, Joy and Compassion and Grace. Although he doesn’t use the word God, he does use the old-fashioned term, Providence, in a kind of code that both theists and atheists would find appealing, or at least acceptable.
Gordon, like all UU ministers worth their words, is a religious translator. I noticed this part of the work immediately, as being surprisingly big. Although I am a theist and a Christian, my language is very broad, exploring the sacred and the spiritual together with the mixed group that you are. The translator part of my work is not just challenging mentally, but enriching spiritually, for it compels me to explore the depths, to consider what it is that I am really talking about, to seek out the key experiences that are universal, and to find language to embrace the reality that we share.
Being a translator is also tough. I know that I miss my own sacred language accompanying my worship life. But of course, I always have to do a spiritual practice – it’s just that it’s not as supported. And I begin again and again with spiritual practice, always a challenge to be renewed.
Some UU congregations practically have their own dictionary, full of taboo words, such as church, God, and soul, as well as acceptable words, such as congregation, source, and spirit. I don’t find this to be true here, thankfully, but ever since the beginning of our time together, and up until this Spring, there have always been people who asked me to bring more language about God and prayer and more ritual to our services, and there have also always been people who asked me to bring less language about God and prayer and less ritual to our services, and I have listened to both and honored both. We all want what makes us feel at home, acceptable, and belonging together, and that is not easy in such a mixed group. On some rare occasions, the folks that I think of as the Goldilockses, have also approached me to say that they experienced my ministry of the word as “just right,” inclusive.
It is a privilege to minister, and I am humbled by it, often, and yet I admit probably not often enough. Folks have shared their most meaningful moments, have brought their best and their worst, have opened their hearts. And I have hoped that I could be an instrument of peace. Sometimes I have been quite surprised by how you reacted, for example giving rave reviews to sermons I struggled with and wrote off as definitely “B-” material, while at other times, saying nary a word about what I’d deemed an award-winning opus. I have had anxiety dreams all these years about worship services in which I arrive unprepared and make a total mess of everything. . . . I have also been deeply moved by our time together. In some worship services and at some gathered groups, and in some personal exchanges, we have touched the transcendent, we have known the depths of the spirit, we have grown in wisdom and compassion. Our gathered energies have made a positive difference in this world, and for this I am deeply grateful. None of us alone would be as effective, would even know where to best place our loving, creative energies, without this congregation. What a wellspring, what a joy.
Three years ago, you gave me a sabbatical, an enormous gift. I remember the tremendous lightness which I felt as I returned. There is a scene from ancient Egypt which depicts judgment day and the person’s soul is weighed against a feather, the meaning being that you need to be as light or lighter than a feather in order to rise to eternity. I was lighter than a feather when I returned, and I smiled non-stop for about three months.
As I transitioned back to being your minister, I was again offering to carry your burdens with you. Now, if I were fully enlightened, they would be light as feathers, but I’m still working on that path. Worse still, I asked if together we could carry more burdens – to notice that the world is a hurting place and that we need to do something about it, right here and right now. Together we have lifted some weights, and cried, and laughed, and hoped.
The great thing about Unitarian Universalist ministry is that we do this together. Your wisdom and spirituality is as valid as mine. And you know this, and it is freeing. Your bring your ideas and your dreams, your inspiration and your compassion, in so many ways to this congregation. Insight is permissible here – not everywhere. Of course, you may have your own anxiety dreams, your own disappointments about why a certain idea you had was not followed, your own concerns about making yourself understood and not being misunderstood. (Ah, we share so much in this ministry, don’t we?) The good stuff, too. For every vulnerable risk we have taken that has kept our work together open and available to all, we have had a few falling down moments, but we have had many more incredible experiences, moments so grace-filled, so transforming, so dear to us all, and they have come from and through many of you here.
Ministry is a community event, which means that it is not personal. When I have received complaints and critiques, I know that it is not personal, (and sometimes I do have to work a bit on knowing that.) Which is not to say that sometimes I don’t regret that I haven’t been equal to the challenges of this ministry, or that I don’t remain open to a growing edge, that I am not immune to change – sometimes you have rightly reminded me of what I haven’t done, or done poorly; you have helped me to see things in a new way, and have enlarged my perspective, and this is all part of our ministry. I cannot take responsibility – credit or blame – for much of what happens in UUMSB, for it happens in our altogether state. For example, some folks who were atheists have become theists here and some folks who were theists have become atheists, and that’s because of all of us and together we all rejoice, of course – that’s what it is to be UU.
We all participate in this congregation’s ministry, and there is also a bigger picture, as in the Mel Brooks line, “there’s something bigger than Phil”. There’s something bigger than us individually, or as a congregation, or as part of the larger community. What we are doing involves our highest resolve, our deepest meaning, the presence of the holy, I believe – whatever that means to each of us – perhaps the larger love, the greater truth, the wonder and mystery of life. My ministry is part of our ministry is part of the larger ministry.
You are not perfect and neither am I. We challenge each other at times. As good as we are, we are capable of lapses in kindness, this I know. We are also capable of the great compassion. And we are the ones who are called to do this ministry together, the larger ministry of faith, hope, and love.
I will end with these words from my colleague, Susan Manker-Seale:
Much of ministry
is a benediction
A speaking well of
each other and the world
A speaking well of what we value:
honesty
love
forgiveness
trust
A speaking well of our efforts
A speaking well of our dreams
This is how we celebrate life
Through speaking well of it
Living the benediction
and becoming as a word
well-spoken.
Our ministry is a life well-spoken, well-lived, a blessing and a benediction for all. Amen.