The Sacred Gift of Connection (my final contribution to the Helena IR Religion Page)

In the past six years I have made periodic (a couple of times a year) contributions to the Religion Page of the local Helena, MT newspaper (the Helena Independent Record). This was my contribution for Saturday, June 26, 2021 - the day prior to my final sermon at Plymouth UCC before retiring.

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This will be my final contribution to this column. Effective July 1st I will be retiring after 40 years of pastoral ministry. As you might imagine, this experience has put me in a reflective mood. I find myself looking back not just over the last six years at Plymouth in Helena, but also over the last 40 years in nine different congregations spread across four states and two denominations. I’ve preached more than 1,600 sermons, officiated at countless weddings and funerals, attended more board and committee meetings than I care to think about, participated in more than 30 church camps, and led a whole lot of Bible studies and book discussion groups. And through all of that, what stands out the most for me are the people. A career in ministry has gifted me with the remarkable privilege of sharing in people’s lives in profoundly deep and intimate ways. I have sat with people in the hospital as they were dying, and witnessed overwhelming love radiating from the faces of couples who were committing themselves to marriage. I’ve been the person a family called when tragedy struck, and held babies as I introduced them to their new congregation. In the highs and the lows, the extraordinary and the mundane, I have experienced Sacred Presence shining through the lives of the people with whom I’ve had the privilege of sharing life. To be received with such openness and trust is a blessing for which I may never find words to adequately express my gratitude. The writer of the book of Hebrews used the phrase “so great a cloud of witnesses” and that is something like how I would describe the very long parade of people who have loved me and supported me and believed in me and trusted me down through the years in ways that shaped me and encouraged me to become more fully myself. I hope that I managed to touch their lives in some meaningful way, but I know that they touched mine.

This experience of sharing life with others in deep and profound ways is not limited to those of us who have been privileged to work as religious professionals. If you are a human being alive in this world then you are sharing life with other people. You have the potential to make a positive contribution in someone else’s life, and you have the opportunity to be positively impacted by those around you. It doesn’t matter who you are, how easy or challenging your life has been, or how much (or little) you believe in yourself. If you still have breath in your body then there is still time to experience the sacred gift of connection. Richard Bach put it this way in his book “Illusions,” – “Here’s a test to find whether your mission on earth is finished: If you’re alive, it isn’t.”

As I stand at the edge of this transition point in my life, looking back over 40 years of ministry and looking ahead to the new chapter which is about to open up, I invite you to do some reflecting of your own. What has led you to this moment in your life? Where have you experienced Sacred Presence (by whatever name you might choose to call such an experience)? Who has touched your life in ways that shaped you? Whose life have you touched? And then, I would invite you to remember that no matter what such reflections reveal, you are not done yet. The rest of your story has not yet been written, and you are holding the pen with which to compose what happens next.

In these final days of my life as a pastor, as I prepare to step into the next adventure, I am filled with gratitude for all those who have shared themselves with me and allowed me to share myself with them. As I take my leave of the good people at Plymouth Congregational Church, and all of you here in Montana, I invite each of you to step forth into your own next adventure, surrounded by the awareness that whatever comes next you are never alone. God (Sacred Presence, Higher Power, the Universe, Great Mystery, Spirit, whatever names or descriptions you care to use) is always with you, and it is always possible to connect with the people with whom you share life. Vaya con Dios – Go with God!

Sharing Sacred Space

I think of it as my mountain, but the truth is that I do not own it. In fact, it doesn’t “belong” to me at all. For the past six years I’ve simply been blessed by the privilege of sharing it with the creatures who live here. Sauntering through this sacred place has nourished my soul. 

Happy Father's Day

This is Father’s Day, and I am a father, so today is officially a day for me to celebrate. My status as a father is not based in biology. None of the women with whom I am connected in a fatherly way are biologically related to me. And, at least as far as I’m concerned, that matters not at all. We are bound together by the power of love, and my life is made richer and fuller because they are in it. Each of them, in their own wonderfully unique ways, have chosen to share life with me, and that is a gift for which I will forever be grateful. There are simply not enough words to adequately express my love and affection for these remarkable young women. So, happy Father’s Day to all of you who are fathers – no matter how you acquired that status. 

Remembering Those On The Edges

Today I had the privilege of participating in a graveside funeral service for Indigent and Abandoned Persons of Lewis and Clark County. Eleven individuals (ten men and one woman) were honored. Various members of the community participated, sharing readings and then speaking the names. A local native drum group played. I played my flute. It was a powerful and sobering experience. Perhaps the most moving part for me was that fact that more than fifty people showed up to pay their respects. The individuals we buried came to the end of the lives without family around them. But honor and respect were offered in this final farewell. I came away from the experience wanting to be more aware of ways I can reach out to touch the lives of those living on the edges, even if only to acknowledge their existence in a respectful way. We are all connected, and yet all too often I forget to notice. May I remember more often.

Memories, Grief, & Integration

Grief is a funny thing! Not funny in a ha-ha sort of sense, but in a peculiar sort of sense. It gets talked about as if it's linear, with stages and progression and some semblance of order. Which is, of course, nothing like what actually happens. First of all, no two people's grief is the same. We each have our unique ways of dealing with loss. And second, no matter who you are, your grief will find it's own path, and it's seldom, if ever, straight. It twists and turns and doubles back on itself. 

All of this comes up for me in this moment because I was peeling an orange. As I was separating the segments a memory came fluttering into my awareness. On road trips with Veronica, when I was driving she would sometimes peel an orange and then feed me segments. It was a very sweet experience, and the memory leaves me smiling. But that would not always have been the case. Ten years ago if that memory had shown up I would have been a weeping pile of emotional, grief-stricken goo on the floor. The loss would still have been fresh and the pain still lurking near the surface. Back in those days it didn't take much to bring on the tears. But time, when coupled with being intentional about paying attention to the inner workings of my life, has left me more grounded and more integrated. This evening's experience with the orange was, at least in my opinion, still a grief experience, but it now has a gentler, smoother quality. The loss is still there, and sometimes the tears still come. But now that loss exists within the larger context of a rich, full, and rewarding life. I can remember being fed orange slices and smile at the sweetness of that moment. And I can say thank you to the Universe for the truly amazing gift of sharing life and love with the one who fed those oranges to me. All while also being grateful that the love I experienced with Veronica helped to prepare me for the gift of sharing life and love with Susan. As I said, grief is a funny thing! And I am grateful.

To Be Present...

the challenge is to stay present (which is, of course, always the challenge) - today what tempts me away from this worthy goal is the finish line, which is almost in sight - 80 days from now a new chapter begins - but that day is not today - on this day I am still Pastor Roger and there are still a few more sermons to preach (including the one for this morning) - so I'll remember to breathe and keep my feet firmly planted in the flow - in this moment I'll show up and be present to the NOW of my life

It takes the time that it takes...

A friend’s mother just died unexpectedly, and he observed that it took several days for him to even begin to find words to start talking about it. That brought to mind my own experience just before and after Veronica died. For me, it wasn't words, but photos. There is a gap in my photo stream that began the day I first became aware that there was something wrong and extended for several weeks after she died. Such a loss disrupts (obliterates) the normal flow of life, and (at least for me) it took a while to even begin to find my bearings again. When something dramatic and traumatic occurs in your life I invite you to be gentle with yourself. Take whatever time is necessary, because it takes the time that it takes. Healing does come, but it cannot be rushed. Life will never be the same again, but the Light will return.