And Now We Go Out . . .

June 15, 2003

"And now we go out--
everywhere into the world--
carrying with us the community,
the caring, and the hope
that we have found here."

--Penny Evans

When I reflect on the year just passed, I am proud of what this particular community has accomplished. Our basement renovation project is well under way, and promises to change not only the way we see ourselves, but also the way we are seen by the larger community beyond our walls. We have hosted a student minister who has brought us many ministerial gifts, not least the gift of himself. We have voted, at our recent Annual Meeting, to be a "Fair Compensation Congregation" in relation to our church staff. We have welcomed a new Director of Church Music into our midst, and have seen our choir grow in numbers and enthusiasm [thank the choir!]. We have created a new model for our Young Church religious education program. We are sending four of our children to sing in the Unitarian Universalist Association's General Assembly Children's Choir. This summer, nine of us are traveling to Transylvania to visit and work at our Partner Church. And much, much more.

When I turn to look forward to the coming year, I find myself wondering how our new space will affect us, and affect who we think we are. How will we use the space? What new programs and initiatives and efficiencies will it make possible? In what new ways will we be able to welcome the larger community to make use of this wonderful new resource? How will we be changed? What new opportunities for spiritual growth will we be able to offer and enjoy?

In the meantime, of course, we will take our corporate, summer hiatus. Why do we do this, you ask? Why do we close down for the summer? Over the years, various explanations have been offered, mostly attempts at being humorous, ranging from "Unitarian Universalists are the only group God can trust to be out of his sight for two months at a time" to "We've always done it this way"--the New Englanders' famous excuse for most everything we do.

The facts are probably a lot more mundane than we imagine. In the 19th century, it was unhealthy and uncomfortable to stay in the city during the hot and humid summer months, so the churches would close down and the people disperse to healthier climes. The ministers would take their vacations in the summer, and some would take up smaller and less formal preaching stations, in more relaxing and enticing locales, for the summer season.

William Ellery Channing, the famous Unitarian preacher and minister of Boston's Federal Street Church, returned each summer to his native land of Rhode Island, where he would preach in a little chapel in the town of Portsmouth, and enjoy life among the scenes of his boyhood in Newport.

Gradually, the people got used to taking the summer off, and one can certainly argue that it is a wonderfully civilized and relaxing custom. The question has rightly been raised of late, however: have we outgrown this custom, and ought we not to have summer services? Are we not missing a wonderful opportunity to spread the gospel of Unitarian Universalism by closing our doors for the summer?

Our attempts to hold summer services have not been particularly successful here in Newburyport. We've tried lay-led services, and we've tried simply having the sanctuary open for meditation on Sunday mornings, but neither experiment has resulted in a very plentiful gathering of the faithful. Some of us are adamantly opposed to the idea. And besides, those of us who want to attend a summer service can simply drive up to Hampton Falls and the lovely little Greek Revival Church there next to the meadow, and hear a different minister every week, or just gaze out the window.

However, when we have a more formal worship service here, as we do during Yankee Homecoming, the results have been far more positive and promising. I would venture that if we had a formal service each week during the summer months, with guest ministers preaching and leading worship, and good music, we would garner a pretty good turn-out of tourists and summer folk--and even a few of us--on a pretty regular basis. It would keep our doors open to those who might be "church shopping" during the summer months, and it would keep our wonderful meeting house open and welcoming during the busy summer months.

Of course, it would also require a budget, and a bit of extra work on behalf of a few of us, but it is something to consider. It might even be lucrative after a fashion, and pay for itself, or more. Have we outgrown the summer hiatus? One of my goals for the coming year is to give this possibility some thought.

But, OK, I admit it: right now, I am tired, and so, I expect, are most of you. I am ready for my summer vacation, and for the opportunity, as someone once said to me, to "heal the cracks in my soul." I'm looking forward to the opportunity to lie fallow, and as Anthony Storrs puts it in his classic book Solitude, to "the return to the self." I need to recharge my spiritual batteries, and to reload my brain for another year of sermon writing. Of course, I will do some reading, and perhaps a bit of research. I will take a road trip--my favorite form of relaxation as I grow older--the further away the better. I will take the phone off the hook, and turn off the computer, and avoid the TV. I will do mindless tasks, but I will try to do them mindfully. Or maybe I won't!

In late July and early August, I am looking forward to the opportunity to introduce some more of us to our Partner Church in Transylvania, and to renewing my new friendships there. It is always inspirational to revisit the ancient well-springs of our more liberal and tolerant faith, the original Unitarianism which dates to the time of the Protestant Reformation, the forerunner of our own, American brand of Unitarianism.

On my way back home, I plan to spend a few days visiting a new friend in the Black Forest region of Germany, which will be a first for me. Perhaps I will break out my (extremely rusty) German for the visit. Whatever the outcome of my linguistic efforts, I know that I will return with new food for thought to share with you in the coming year.

Leonardo da Vinci, the great artist and inventor, once wrote,

Every now and then go away, have a little relaxation. For when you come back to your work, your judgement will be surer, since to remain constantly at work, you lose power of judgement. Go some distance away, because then the work appears smaller, and more of it can be taken in at a glance, and a lack of harmony or proportion is more readily seen.

The question I always ask at this time of year is, have we, have I, grown spiritually? I am not always satisfied by the answers I find. I realize how far short I have fallen of my goals. I am shallow where I hoped for depth. I am not yet that better person that I long to be. There is still much work to be done, and it is that work which will bring me back to this place, and to the "church of my dreams" of which the opening words by John Milton Moore spoke.

One of my personal goals for the coming year is to engage in the practice known as "spiritual direction" with a qualified spiritual director, someone with a deep meditative or prayer life who can help guide me to the calm center within myself which I must locate if I am to help others along their own spiritual paths. I must heal those spiritual cracks which lead me more toward cynicism and despair than toward contentment and hope. Always on the religious journey there is more work to be done--we are never complete, but, as the old hymn puts it, we are "in the making still." Thanks be to God! It is the journey which really matters, whether or not we ever fully achieve our goals or arrive at our destinations.

My hope for each of you this summer is that you will find some time to reflect on the journey thus far. May you find some inspiration along the way. May you get some of the rest you deserve. May there be some beautiful vistas rising up before you, or, at the least, may you find yourself experiencing the sacred in the landscape of the commonplace and the everyday. May you reconnect with someone you love.

T. S. Eliot wrote that "to make an end is to make a beginning." May you return to this place renewed and refreshed by gentle summer breezes, prepared to carry on the work already begun. May you be carried safely through the many "causes of despair which life inevitably brings to us all" [Paul Carnes]. And may you find some joy coming into your life unbidden, or hidden in unexpected places. I will miss you! God bless; amen.

The Rev. Harold E. Babcock