Sermon: Walking the Pilgrim Road

First Parish in Lincoln February 5, 2019

“Walking the Pilgrim Road Together”

January 27, 2019

Rev. Jenny M. Rankin

The First Parish in Lincoln

Readings: Exodus 17:4

Emily Dickinson: “I Dwell in Possibility”

657 I dwell in Possibility —

by Emily Dickinson

I dwell in Possibility—
A fairer House than Prose—
More numerous of Windows—
Superior—for Doors—

Of Chambers as the Cedars—
Impregnable of Eye—
And for an Everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky—

Of Visitors—the fairest—
For Occupation—This—
The spreading wide of narrow Hands
To gather Paradise—

The end of January in New England—

Last Sunday in Vermont it was minus 6 when I woke up

Coming home we found snow upon snow,

And blessed the kindness of an unknown neighbor who had shoveled a path to the back door.

But this is New England after all so by mid-week it had warmed and I saw mist rising from snow as I drove past Walden Pond on my way to work.

The black wet bark of trees, the white mist rising. Beauty on Route 126.

The end of January and I’ve been with you five months as your interim minister

(It seems longer, doesn’t it?)

I’ve told you that sometimes,

when I arrive in a new congregation

I like to imagine I am travelling to a new country.

I love to travel and I learned to love it when I was young.

My parents took us on car-camping trips around the United States and Canada.

This was not “glamping”—far from it!

This was three kids squished into the back seat of a dark-red Ford wagon—

This was a cream-colored tent from Tent City near North Station

That we put up every night

Took down the next morning.

This was not eating out in fancy places

But lots of picnics on a blue plaid tartan blanket we’d pull from the back of the car.

We hiked trails in the Great Smoky Mountains, ran on beaches at Cape Hatteras, and endured hours in the car driving west to see the Grand Canyon, Bryce, Yellowstone, the Tetons.

My father loved history and he took us to places that would tell a story.

We learned about the Civil War on the battlefields of Gettysburg and about the Founding Fathers when we visited Jefferson’s home at Monticello and rolled Easter eggs on the lawn.

So I guess it makes sense that I’m kind of a pilgrim minister now

That I sojourn for a time with a people in a place, their country.

We walk this interim road together, this pilgrim road, accompanying one another on this journey

This journey from what has been here, what you’re used to, life as you’ve known it (ministry with Bill or Nancy or Roger to Manish) to something new that you can’t yet see but know is coming.

This new chapter in the life of this spiritual community

A chapter that you are writing together, right here right now.

*******************************8

In these first months of arriving here

You have welcomed me with kindness and I thank you.

It’s been a rough patch these past few years—

You called a minister with great hope in 2015

He left after three years, a short tenure in the ministry world, unusual.

You’re trying to sort it out.

What happened, why, the different perspectives you all bring.

“Community,” said M. Scott Peck, psychologist and author of The Road Less Travelled, “Community is people who talk to each other.”

Easy to say not always easy to do

This month in the Listening Circles you tried to do that

(122 of you showed up! thank you)

Not easy

Especially when emotions run deep

And we know that the friend sitting across the circle—

The one we see in the pew on Sunday

Or up in the choir loft

Has had a very different experience than us,

Has a really different take on things than we do.

Not easy—

For some this is tender territory.

We listen to one person say “Manish was a holy person to me.”

And the next voice their sense of distrust, not being listened to, anger.

It has been moving for me to sit with you

To witness as you

Trying to speak the truth in love to one another.

It reminded me of words by the medieval mystic Hildegarde of Bingen

“Dare to declare who you are.

It is not far from the shores of silence to the boundaries of speech.

The path is not long, but the way is deep.

You must not only walk there, you must be prepared to leap.”

I witnessed a lot of courage this month as you sat with one another and dared to leap.

Dared to put out there what was in your heart and on your mind.

When issues arise in a community

When there are differences

We tend to gravitate to people who think as we do

We tend to talk in separate corners, over dinner tables, out in the parking lots

This is natural. Completely normal.

But if a community is people who talk to each other

When discussion of important issues moves out of the public space

Into private conversations

That’s where it gets sticky.

Something breaks down.

It can feel like we’re walking on eggshells

Like there’s an elephant in the room or

Like the energy has been sucked out of the room.

We know this from our lives, don’t we?

The family, the workplace

We know that silence isn’t always helpful and

That secrets aren’t always healthy.

But let’s admit it, difficult conversations are, well, difficult

They are hard!

We don’t have a lot of practice.

Maybe especially here in New England.

As a minister, I’ve seen it in congregations again and again—

Issues arise, differences surface

People get anxious

We go to our own separate corners

Humanists over here, people who want to hear the word “God” more in worship over there

People who like a capital campaign—people who think “we are spending too much money on ourselves”

I’ve heard someone say (not here) they’d rather lie down and be run over by a bus than see the church vote to spend less money on social justice.

And in the same meeting, a few minutes later, I’ve heard a person passionately speak about how the social action line item is too high and not financially wise.

Issues develop, anxiety rises, and we tend to go to our separate corners.

Or we vote with our feet and stop coming at all.

However we do it, we opt out of an open conversation in a public space.

Well, if Scott Peck is right and “A community is people who talk together,”

What I’m hearing from you is one of the things you’re learning

Is that you need a better forum for doing this kind of talking,

You think you need better skills at having difficult conversations.

(don’t we all!)

We are walking the pilgrim road together

The Listening Circles were the first “real chunk” of interim work”

I know there’s a lot swirling around—you want to work on your website, take another look at who makes decisions about what (governance), look at the role of the minister especially how it relates to board and deacons, you have a new personnel committee

There is work on identity and vision you say you want to do.

There is a lot swirling around and it can feel like a lot.

There are thickets and thorns, videos that surface, hurt feelings to attend to, healing to do.

But, believe it or not, you are on your way

To writing the next chapter in the life of this congregation called

The First Parish in Lincoln.

You are doing it. Right here, right now.

By showing up at church, singing in the choir, teaching our children, helping people out when they need help. Showing up at Listening Circles yes but fun stuff too like Sip, Talk, Learn.

You are doing it.

Little by little, one step at a time, you are making your way from what you have known here—

Ministry with Roger, ministry with Manish—

Towards what you do NOT know (yet)

The community you will become in time.

Yes, there is hurt to attend to

And you are attending to it.

There is healing to be done

And you will do it.

There are differences to understand

And trust to be restored.

None of this is unusual in congregations

It happens—

And I am either idealistic enough or foolish enough or perhaps have watched congregations long enough

To believe that trust can be repaired

Nope, it’s not easy or fast.

It’s not Tinkerbell coming in and waving a magic wand.

We know life doesn’t work that way

We know we cannot force outcomes

Can’t manage, direct or control things to go the way we want.

But there are some things we can do.

We can take responsibility for our part

We can say we are sorry

We can try to make amends.

And over time in a community—just like in a family—

If each of us is willing to do this—

Some soul-searching

Some truth telling

Some asking and giving of forgiveness—

Over time,

There can be healing

A community can begin to knit itself together

So it is no longer a little collection of lots of little camps or factions

But a community again—

People who talk to each other

(Even about the tough stuff.)

I think it’s when we try to go on without doing this healing work

Without naming what is going on

Without the courage to face things

That’s where we get into trouble.

I have to believe that the women and men and children who have worshipped here generation after generation

Stretching back to the 1740s

Have known something about facing difficult things together

And coming through–

New England congregations are long-lived.

Hardy.

Tenacious.

It will take time to shift and grow into the next new chapter

Into who you are becoming

You are in the middle now

Beginning to work on healing the past

In time you will get to the part about identity, mission/vision

Who are you and what are you doing here on Bedford Road in this pretty little town of Lincoln with its open fields and farms and old history

You, the people, are going to take hold of yourselves

Figure out in a new way who you are and what you are doing and why

And then you go out and find the minister you think can walk with you in the same direction

There is no rushing it.

We can try, we can pretend, we can march on—

But inside of us, things take their own time

Healing takes its own time

Formation of new identity takes its own time

Renewal and revitalization takes its own time

Our job is to try and have the patience

The courage

The self-awareness

The ego maturity

Not to rush but to be in the place where we are

To allow ourselves to grieve and heal and restore some trust

And then, look around—

Noticing what it is we love

What we are drawn to

What gives us joy

This is the sacred speaking into our lives

This is God calling us in new directions

Inviting us into new endeavors.

Sometimes that means leaving things that we have loved before, things that have been good, wonderful even—

But now it is a new chapter

A new day

A time for new things,

Things we can’t even clearly see yet.

“I dwell in possibility” said Emily Dickinson

I believe that you are a people of possibility

That there are possibilities on the horizon that you, the people of First Parish in Lincoln, can only dimly see

They are beckoning to you.

As you move forward,

They will become clearer,

The shape of your future will become clearer to you

The clarity of your vision will create an excitement

An energy

It will be palpable

Other people will be drawn to it

They’ll say “oh look at those people—

“They are spiritually alive—

“They are doing something good in the world—

“I want to be part of that.”

They will look at you and say, “They have purpose and meaning” or

“They are welcoming and kind.”

“I want to be part of a community like that one

Where I can feel like I am part of something bigger than my own little life

Where I can feel like I belong.”

“I want to be part of that

Energy, vision, vitality, purpose—

I want to be part of that!”

“I want to bring my kids here.”

“I want to worship here.”

“I want to learn about serving the world here–

I want to do social justice here.”

“I want to learn about a relationship with the holy here, with God.”

There is a new chapter in your future

It is not yet born

It will be born over the next few years

You are in the midst of writing that chapter right now.

You will discern it

Discover it

Create it

Shape it

You will invite each other into that creative process

It will not happen behind closed doors or in small groups

You’ll figure out a way to invite everyone in–

You will reach out to those who are disheartened

Those who are angry

Those who have left.

You will reach out and ask them to join you.

It is creative and exciting and arduous and sometimes difficult and sometimes joyful.

You do not do it alone.

You have each other and you have me

I will be cheering you on

I will be reminding you to not rush

To name what needs to be named

To face what needs to be faced

I know you can do it

I see it in you

I see the depth of your love for this place and for one another and for the Earth and for the wider world

I see your commitment to a future that you can’t really see yet but are feeling your way towards, by faith,

One step at a time.

It is the end of January and I am travelling in a new country, your country—

We are walking this pilgrim road together

I am grateful for you and this community and this rare opportunity we have together

To be brave

To have courage

To hold onto what is good

Version:1.0 StartHTML:000000215 EndHTML:000028864 StartFragment:000012781 EndFragment:000028744 StartSelection:000012812 EndSelection:000028726 SourceURL:https://fplincoln.org/sermon/i-dwell-in-possibility/ I Dwell in Possibility – First Parish in Lincoln February 5, 2019

“Walking the Pilgrim Road Together” 2964 words

January 27, 2019

Rev. Jenny M. Rankin

The First Parish in Lincoln

Readings: Exodus 17:4

Emily Dickinson: “I Dwell in Possibility”

657 I dwell in Possibility —

by Emily Dickinson

I dwell in Possibility—
A fairer House than Prose—
More numerous of Windows—
Superior—for Doors—

Of Chambers as the Cedars—
Impregnable of Eye—
And for an Everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky—

Of Visitors—the fairest—
For Occupation—This—
The spreading wide of narrow Hands
To gather Paradise—

The end of January in New England—

Last Sunday in Vermont it was minus 6 when I woke up

Coming home we found snow upon snow,

And blessed the kindness of an unknown neighbor who had shoveled a path to the back door.

But this is New England after all so by mid-week it had warmed and I saw mist rising from snow as I drove past Walden Pond on my way to work.

The black wet bark of trees, the white mist rising. Beauty on Route 126.

The end of January and I’ve been with you five months as your interim minister

(It seems longer, doesn’t it?)

I’ve told you that sometimes,

when I arrive in a new congregation

I like to imagine I am travelling to a new country.

I love to travel and I learned to love it when I was young.

My parents took us on car-camping trips around the United States and Canada.

This was not “glamping”—far from it!

This was three kids squished into the back seat of a dark-red Ford wagon—

This was a cream-colored tent from Tent City near North Station

That we put up every night

Took down the next morning.

This was not eating out in fancy places

But lots of picnics on a blue plaid tartan blanket we’d pull from the back of the car.

We hiked trails in the Great Smoky Mountains, ran on beaches at Cape Hatteras, and endured hours in the car driving west to see the Grand Canyon, Bryce, Yellowstone, the Tetons.

My father loved history and he took us to places that would tell a story.

We learned about the Civil War on the battlefields of Gettysburg and about the Founding Fathers when we visited Jefferson’s home at Monticello and rolled Easter eggs on the lawn.

So I guess it makes sense that I’m kind of a pilgrim minister now

That I sojourn for a time with a people in a place, their country.

We walk this interim road together, this pilgrim road, accompanying one another on this journey

This journey from what has been here, what you’re used to, life as you’ve known it (ministry with Bill or Nancy or Roger to Manish) to something new that you can’t yet see but know is coming.

This new chapter in the life of this spiritual community

A chapter that you are writing together, right here right now.

*******************************8

In these first months of arriving here

You have welcomed me with kindness and I thank you.

It’s been a rough patch these past few years—

You called a minister with great hope in 2015

He left after three years, a short tenure in the ministry world, unusual.

You’re trying to sort it out.

What happened, why, the different perspectives you all bring.

“Community,” said M. Scott Peck, psychologist and author of The Road Less Travelled, “Community is people who talk to each other.”

Easy to say not always easy to do

This month in the Listening Circles you tried to do that

(122 of you showed up! thank you)

Not easy

Especially when emotions run deep

And we know that the friend sitting across the circle—

The one we see in the pew on Sunday

Or up in the choir loft

Has had a very different experience than us,

Has a really different take on things than we do.

Not easy—

For some this is tender territory.

We listen to one person say “Manish was a holy person to me.”

And the next voice their sense of distrust, not being listened to, anger.

It has been moving for me to sit with you

To witness as you

Trying to speak the truth in love to one another.

It reminded me of words by the medieval mystic Hildegarde of Bingen

“Dare to declare who you are.

It is not far from the shores of silence to the boundaries of speech.

The path is not long, but the way is deep.

You must not only walk there, you must be prepared to leap.”

I witnessed a lot of courage this month as you sat with one another and dared to leap.

Dared to put out there what was in your heart and on your mind.

When issues arise in a community

When there are differences

We tend to gravitate to people who think as we do

We tend to talk in separate corners, over dinner tables, out in the parking lots

This is natural. Completely normal.

But if a community is people who talk to each other

When discussion of important issues moves out of the public space

Into private conversations

That’s where it gets sticky.

Something breaks down.

It can feel like we’re walking on eggshells

Like there’s an elephant in the room or

Like the energy has been sucked out of the room.

We know this from our lives, don’t we?

The family, the workplace

We know that silence isn’t always helpful and

That secrets aren’t always healthy.

But let’s admit it, difficult conversations are, well, difficult

They are hard!

We don’t have a lot of practice.

Maybe especially here in New England.

As a minister, I’ve seen it in congregations again and again—

Issues arise, differences surface

People get anxious

We go to our own separate corners

Humanists over here, people who want to hear the word “God” more in worship over there

People who like a capital campaign—people who think “we are spending too much money on ourselves”

I’ve heard someone say (not here) they’d rather lie down and be run over by a bus than see the church vote to spend less money on social justice.

And in the same meeting, a few minutes later, I’ve heard a person passionately speak about how the social action line item is too high and not financially wise.

Issues develop, anxiety rises, and we tend to go to our separate corners.

Or we vote with our feet and stop coming at all.

However we do it, we opt out of an open conversation in a public space.

Well, if Scott Peck is right and “A community is people who talk together,”

What I’m hearing from you is one of the things you’re learning

Is that you need a better forum for doing this kind of talking,

You think you need better skills at having difficult conversations.

(don’t we all!)

We are walking the pilgrim road together

The Listening Circles were the first “real chunk” of interim work”

I know there’s a lot swirling around—you want to work on your website, take another look at who makes decisions about what (governance), look at the role of the minister especially how it relates to board and deacons, you have a new personnel committee

There is work on identity and vision you say you want to do.

There is a lot swirling around and it can feel like a lot.

There are thickets and thorns, videos that surface, hurt feelings to attend to, healing to do.

But, believe it or not, you are on your way

To writing the next chapter in the life of this congregation called

The First Parish in Lincoln.

You are doing it. Right here, right now.

By showing up at church, singing in the choir, teaching our children, helping people out when they need help. Showing up at Listening Circles yes but fun stuff too like Sip, Talk, Learn.

You are doing it.

Little by little, one step at a time, you are making your way from what you have known here—

Ministry with Roger, ministry with Manish—

Towards what you do NOT know (yet)

The community you will become in time.

Yes, there is hurt to attend to

And you are attending to it.

There is healing to be done

And you will do it.

There are differences to understand

And trust to be restored.

None of this is unusual in congregations

It happens—

And I am either idealistic enough or foolish enough or perhaps have watched congregations long enough

To believe that trust can be repaired

Nope, it’s not easy or fast.

It’s not Tinkerbell coming in and waving a magic wand.

We know life doesn’t work that way

We know we cannot force outcomes

Can’t manage, direct or control things to go the way we want.

But there are some things we can do.

We can take responsibility for our part

We can say we are sorry

We can try to make amends.

And over time in a community—just like in a family—

If each of us is willing to do this—

Some soul-searching

Some truth telling

Some asking and giving of forgiveness—

Over time,

There can be healing

A community can begin to knit itself together

So it is no longer a little collection of lots of little camps or factions

But a community again—

People who talk to each other

(Even about the tough stuff.)

I think it’s when we try to go on without doing this healing work

Without naming what is going on

Without the courage to face things

That’s where we get into trouble.

I have to believe that the women and men and children who have worshipped here generation after generation

Stretching back to the 1740s

Have known something about facing difficult things together

And coming through–

New England congregations are long-lived.

Hardy.

Tenacious.

It will take time to shift and grow into the next new chapter

Into who you are becoming

You are in the middle now

Beginning to work on healing the past

In time you will get to the part about identity, mission/vision

Who are you and what are you doing here on Bedford Road in this pretty little town of Lincoln with its open fields and farms and old history

You, the people, are going to take hold of yourselves

Figure out in a new way who you are and what you are doing and why

And then you go out and find the minister you think can walk with you in the same direction

There is no rushing it.

We can try, we can pretend, we can march on—

But inside of us, things take their own time

Healing takes its own time

Formation of new identity takes its own time

Renewal and revitalization takes its own time

Our job is to try and have the patience

The courage

The self-awareness

The ego maturity

Not to rush but to be in the place where we are

To allow ourselves to grieve and heal and restore some trust

And then, look around—

Noticing what it is we love

What we are drawn to

What gives us joy

This is the sacred speaking into our lives

This is God calling us in new directions

Inviting us into new endeavors.

Sometimes that means leaving things that we have loved before, things that have been good, wonderful even—

But now it is a new chapter

A new day

A time for new things,

Things we can’t even clearly see yet.

“I dwell in possibility” said Emily Dickinson

I believe that you are a people of possibility

That there are possibilities on the horizon that you, the people of First Parish in Lincoln, can only dimly see

They are beckoning to you.

As you move forward,

They will become clearer,

The shape of your future will become clearer to you

The clarity of your vision will create an excitement

An energy

It will be palpable

Other people will be drawn to it

They’ll say “oh look at those people—

“They are spiritually alive—

“They are doing something good in the world—

“I want to be part of that.”

They will look at you and say, “They have purpose and meaning” or

“They are welcoming and kind.”

“I want to be part of a community like that one

Where I can feel like I am part of something bigger than my own little life

Where I can feel like I belong.”

“I want to be part of that

Energy, vision, vitality, purpose—

I want to be part of that!”

“I want to bring my kids here.”

“I want to worship here.”

“I want to learn about serving the world here–

I want to do social justice here.”

“I want to learn about a relationship with the holy here, with God.”

There is a new chapter in your future

It is not yet born

It will be born over the next few years

You are in the midst of writing that chapter right now.

You will discern it

Discover it

Create it

Shape it

You will invite each other into that creative process

It will not happen behind closed doors or in small groups

You’ll figure out a way to invite everyone in–

You will reach out to those who are disheartened

Those who are angry

Those who have left.

You will reach out and ask them to join you.

It is creative and exciting and arduous and sometimes difficult and sometimes joyful.

You do not do it alone.

You have each other and you have me

I will be cheering you on

I will be reminding you to not rush

To name what needs to be named

To face what needs to be faced

I know you can do it

I see it in you

I see the depth of your love for this place and for one another and for the Earth and for the wider world

I see your commitment to a future that you can’t really see yet but are feeling your way towards, by faith,

One step at a time.

It is the end of January and I am travelling in a new country, your country—

We are walking this pilgrim road together

I am grateful for you and this community and this rare opportunity we have together

To be brave

To have courage

To hold onto what is good

Even while allowing new things to take shape before our eyes.

Even while allowing new things to take shape before our eyes.