Reconnecting

June 2, 2002

"For the first three days, you are a guest; after that, you are part of the family." --Transylvanian Saying

After such a lengthy absence, one has to avoid the temptation of trying to say it all. But first, and most important, let me say "thank you" for the wonderful opportunity you have given me during this sabbatical time. Truly, it has been a time of rest and renewal for me, and your unanimous support during what has been an extremely busy and productive time in the life of this congregation has been remarkable. I want to congratulate you on that. I want you to know that I appreciate it, as I appreciate all that you have done during my time away.

I will get to a few individual thank-yous in a moment. For now, I want to give you a brief overview of what I have been up to, assuming that you may be curious. Let me begin by saying that I have spent a considerable amount of time during this sabbatical in what, as a religious person, I think it is appropriate to call "soul-searching." Some of that searching is contained in the journal which, until I arrived home from Transylvania two weeks ago, I kept of my traveling, reading, and cogitating. Most of it isn't particularly profound, but at least it's a kind of record of what I was doing and thinking about on a day by day basis. Especially during my extended visit in far away Romania, I found it quite comforting to write during occasional periods of homesickness.

As to the content of my soul-searching, much of it had to do with the nature of what I will call "my ministry." I had time to think some about my strengths and weaknesses. This is important because I have always known that there are some things I do very well, and some things that I don't do so well. I will be speaking more about this in the coming year, but for now I just wanted you to know that you and the church have been very much on my mind, even if at the back of it.

Actually, you have been on my mind a lot more than you probably imagined, especially when I was here in town and trying to remain "disengaged" from all the good stuff that has been going on. And because, I hope you will be glad to know, I have missed you.

Along with my soul-searching, I did a lot of reading. More reading, in fact, during these five months than I usually accomplish in a whole year or even two. Much of my reading has focused on what journalist Timothy Garton Ash has called "history of the present." This is the history that we are living through, and have recently lived through, but of which we are and have been, well, oblivious. I spent a lot of time, for instance, reading about the recent history of Eastern Europe in preparation for my trip back to Romania. I realized that I have been, well, oblivious about many of the events taking place there since 1989 and the demise of the Soviet Union.

Oh, I slipped in a few novels, some poetry, and a couple of Tony Hillerman mysteries. But, mostly, I read history.

And what would a sabbatical be--for this confirmed nostalgic, anyway-- without a lot of thought about the whole nature of memory and of what to do with the past? I even read a book entitled "The Future of Nostalgia." I'm already nostalgic for all the wonderful experiences of my sabbatical!

And then there was the travel. The travel, I want to tell you, was wonderful--a real gift. Not that I didn't become homesick, as already mentioned, or nostalgic for other trips taken in the past, with other friends and loved ones. But the travel was great, and, for the time being, anyway, my wanderlust is satisfied. Also, I had an opportunity to catch up with some old friends from my college days whom I hadn't seen in too long.

In January, I spent some time with old acquaintances in Maine, including a wonderful day and night with one of my dearest friends. And then, in February and March, I began a cross country journey which took me to an old friend's in Cleveland, a colleague's incredible lakeside condo in Chicago, a conference on "Spirituality in Uncertain Times" in Madison, and a preaching engagement in my first church in Hanska, Minnesota. (If you are interested in what I said, my sermon will be available on our web site.) In Minnesota, I attended the retirement party of a former church president, visited a dear old parishioner, and went ice-fishing on Lake Mille Lacs in northern Minnesota. (Yes, I know that "ice-fishing" is only a euphemism, but I really was on Lake Mille Lacs!)

From Minnesota, I drove south through Iowa and west through Nebraska--miraculously, I didn't hit any bad weather while I was on the highway--to Colorado, where I visited with an old friend outside Boulder, and with another old friend high in the mountains in Evergreen. It had snowed over a foot the night before I went there and the scenery was worthy of John Denver's expression "Rocky Mountain High," even if the traction wasn't. I made it to Santa Fe, where I visited my niece and her boyfriend, and I got as far as Shiprock, New Mexico before I got so homesick I had to turn around and head back east. I drove home across Texas, where I saw "the world's largest cross," which a billboard informed me I would "never forget," and which I haven't, and I visited beautiful Oxford, Mississippi, where I made a pilgrimage to the grave of William Faulkner and experienced the first of four springs I have enjoyed this year (the others were in London, Transylvania, and Newburyport).

I drove home through Alabama, Georgia, South and North Carolina, and Virginia, where I added to my list of Civil War sites visited--the Crater in Petersburg was especially fascinating to see--and finally came full circle to Newburyport, Massachusetts.

The rest of March saw me preparing for my trips to England Romania, and Hungary, about which much more later--on another day or days.

Meanwhile, I know that you have been accomplishing great things in my absence. I want especially to thank Bert Steeves for providing the ministerial coverage that made it possible for me to leave with the reassuring knowledge that the pastoral needs of the church were in fine and tested hands. (And learning of Maxine's illness during this time, my appreciation for both of them is even greater.) I want to thank K. C. Swallow for her Chairmanship of the Parish Committee--never an easy task during a minister's sabbatical. I want to thank Dorothy Fairweather and her Sabbatical Committee for making it so easy for me to go away, and for providing such an interesting and varied program--a tough act to follow.

I want to thank Florence Mercer for starting a lay ministry program which I hope will continue to grow now that I have returned. And I want to thank the church staff for never calling me and for helping to make this a true sabbatical for me. Thank you, John Mercer, for so ably handling the administrative tasks of the church that I really didn't have to worry if everything was going to fall apart. Thank you Lynn Kettleson and Bill Heenehan and everyone who participated in this year's canvass and capital campaign. You have no idea how great it was, after twenty-years of fundraising campaigns, to get a break from this most important work of the church--and what a successful campaign it was! And thank you Robin Lawson and the Music Director Search Committee--I know that your good work will bear fruit in time.

Thank you, those of you from the congregation, who were willing to share your gifts and insights with our congregation during Sunday services, and thus to help us all to know one another in new and deeper ways. And thank you, everyone one of you--committee chairs and members, friends, all who have continued to come to church and to support the First Religious Society in any way--for helping to make my first-ever sabbatical such a wonderful and rewarding experience.

With all that has been happening at the First Religious Society, and will be happening in the near future, it is an exciting time to be part of this congregation.

Now, of course, we are faced with the task of beginning again. I know this probably sounds odd, since the church year is actually about to end, and I know that many of you are looking forward to a well-deserved rest. I originally thought about titling my sermon this morning "recovenanting," because that is what I think we probably need to do now that I have returned. Now that you have started to get used to not having me around--and let's face it, I am kind of a control freak--we may want to revisit the original basis of our relationship to see what has changed and what you might like to keep from this time without me.

Despite my compulsive, personal need for everything to be "just so," I am, believe it or not, quite willing and prepared to relinquish my hold on some of the roles and jobs that I was doing before my sabbatical. I don't think that I have ever been good enough at inviting your participation, even though I say it most every Sunday, in the "ministry" of the church. I would like that to change, and if that was one of the things that came out of this sabbatical time, I would deem it a success for all of us.

Maybe you've gotten to like having a little more participation and input into the Sunday services. Maybe you have discovered that you like doing things your way instead of mine. If so, you can help me to let go. Also, I hope that you have come to realize, perhaps more than before I went away, that you are perfectly capable of doing things and making decisions without me--that is, without "the minister." Believe me, I will welcome your newfound independence. I hope that our new "covenant" together, which we will be working out in the weeks and months to come, will make our congregation an even more vital and welcoming place than it has been in the past.

Finally, let me reiterate that I have missed you, and that I have missed the rhythm of the church year and of just being in church. This, for one in my particular calling, is a good thing, because I suppose it could just as well have been otherwise. During my visit in Transylvania, it was good just to sit in church, and to participate in a service, sing, and listen to a sermon even though I couldn't understand a word of what was being said. I realize that for most of you, this is a familiar experience . . . but for this minister it was a very pleasant discovery!

In Transylvania, there is a saying that "for the first three days you are a guest; after that you are part of the family." I found it to be true. But I can also say that there is nothing like reconnecting with one's own family after a long absence. It does make the heart grow fonder, and it does cause one to count one's blessings. You are part of my family, too. It is good to be back, to see your faces and to hear your voices. It is good to be in this beautiful, sacred space. It is good to be home. So let us give thanks for every gift of life, but most especially for the greatest gift of all, Life itself. Amen.

The Rev. Harold E. Babcock