Trust the Magic of Beginnings

One month ago today was my final worship service at Plymouth prior to retirement. I was surrounded by family and friends, and it was a powerful experience - the conclusion of 40 years of ministry. It’s only been a month but already it feels like another lifetime. This next chapter is only beginning to unfold, and I really have no idea what comes next, but so far it feels good and right and true. In the words of Meister Eckhart, “And suddenly you know: It's time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings.” And so I continue to remind myself that I am on a sacred journey, accompanied by the ongoing presence of Spirit. It will unfold in amazing ways, and all I need to do is show up and stay present in each moment. That should be enough to keep me busy.

Celebrating the Uniqueness of Each Moment

My life has been in transition for a while now (retirement, a big birthday, moving, etc). But the truth is that we are always in transition, because life is never static. 

As we slowly emerge from a year and a half of pandemic shut down and upheaval, I hear lots of talk about all the changes and all of the ways in which life will never be the same again. But then today I heard a discussion on NPR where the question was asked, “What if we used this time to explore the exciting new possibilities that are emerging in the wake of all this change?” Absolutely mourn the practices and traditions and experiences which have been lost. But also let us remember that there is always more which is yet to come. 

The poet Denise Levertov spoke to this in her poem “Only Once”:

“All which, because it was

flame and song and granted us

joy, we thought we'd do, be, revisit,

turns out to have been what it was

that once, only; every invitation

did not begin

a series, a build-up: the marvelous

did happen in our lives, our stories 

are not drab with its absence: but don't

expect to return for more. Whatever more

there will be will be

unique as those were unique. Try

to acknowledge the next

song in its body-halo of flames as utterly

present, as now or never.”

Every moment, every experience is unique. It not only won’t be repeated, it can’t be repeated. But just because we won’t ever again experience that wonderful moment doesn’t mean we will never again have wonderful moments. They will simply be new and unique. 

So, let us celebrate all that has gone before, and then let us step boldly into the great mystery of what comes next, trusting that it will be something we cannot even imagine, because it has never before in the whole history of the world been experienced. And that, my friends, is worth celebrating.  

The Gift of Each Moment...

 

At the edge of the mountain a mama deer and her triplet offspring have been hanging out for a couple of weeks. I’ve seen them several times on my morning hikes. Today I’m standing on a ridge watching them in the field below me. Mama is munching on the grass, the sound rising to meet my ears. Then, one by one, the triplets emerge from the trees. The first one makes its way to mama’s side, where it starts to feed while the maternal doe quietly lowers her head to nuzzle the fawn. Meanwhile, the other two bound across the open space, leaping and bouncing with utter abandon. This ordinary, extraordinary, magical scene unfolds, with me the only witness - a priceless gift that feeds my soul and leaves me smiling. In this one holy and sacred moment time stands still, and I remember that I am connected with the whole Universe. And then the moment has passed, but the lesson lingers. With a grateful nod to Mary Oliver (The Summer Day), this is what I plan to do with my one wild and precious life!

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.

- - - - 

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.