A GATHERING OF FRIENDS

A Sermon by James Ishmael Ford

4 February 2001

Let me tell you, I’ve not always been a booster for Small-Group Ministries. I’ve come to this rather slowly. Well, actually reluctantly. Well, maybe kicking and screaming. But, I have arrived. And I’m here to tell you I think we’re onto something very important. Today, I want to share a little of my journey into an emerging vision for a Unitarian Universalist spiritual practice.

This whole Small-Group Ministry thing has been in the air for several years. Right now it’s hard to spend any time with parish ministers without the conversation eventually drifting from our preferred chatting about colleagues or comparisons of congregational budget sizes, toward reflections on Small-Group Ministries. At gatherings of lay leaders, I’ve seen how conversations also end up winding toward Small-Group Ministries.

For a long time I couldn’t see the point. I mean just look at the history. The impetus for this whole thing comes out of those gigantic, fundamentalist churches now dotting the North American countryside. Their problem has been how to maintain the original sense of intimacy and spiritual quest that brought people into their communities in the first place. By various names, prominent among which is Small-Group Ministries, those congregations of five thousand, ten thousand and more, found this to be their solution to their problem.

I very clearly remember saying to myself, when hearing about this, "How nice for them." But, I also thought, "These are not our problems. I mean there are no mega-churches among us, no fifteen-thousand--member congregations. At least not by my last count. So, what could be the deal? Why such enthusiasm for a solution to a problem we don’t have?"

Truth be told, I found myself no more resonant with the pitch often thrown by our Unitarian Universalist Small-Group true believers. The one about how this process is a surefire way to grow churches. Now the congregation I previously served was growing, if anything, a little too fast as it was. And, you know, here in Newton, while we aren’t quite on the demographic tsunami found in the southwest, we’re already plenty large enough right now, thank you.

Also, I know I just get my hackles up when something is sold with the enthusiasm that Small-Group Ministries often gets. Just a little too much like my friend’s frequent enthusiasms for things like pineapple diets. I tended to resist when people expressed their passion for what felt way too much like a fad.

All that said, one thing was haunting me about all this; one point that, once heard, I never could quite shake. One of the leaders of this Small-Group Ministry movement among us, Glenn Turner, a UU minister and, until fairly, recently the District Executive up in Maine, wrote somewhere, in something someone thrust at me: "People come to our congregations seeking intimacy and spiritual growth. And we give them committee meetings and Sunday-morning worship."

I found this sticking in my mind. I constantly think about it. While I do believe there is value both in committee meetings and in Sunday worship, I also know somewhere at base that Glenn is right. People come into our communities such as First Unitarian here, and while there can be, and I think frequently there is, spiritual uplift and challenge in our Sunday worship, it’s true that ultimately what goes on in this room on Sunday morning isn’t enough.

Also, in our treasured way of congregational polity, with full ownership of this community held within this community, of course we must have committees. Nonetheless, it frequently feels as if that’s all we’re offering—an hour or so on Sunday and committee meetings. People are coming into our congregations asking for bread, and too often it feel as if we’re giving them stones.

For a fair amount of time that’s pretty much where things sat for me: General suspicion about faddishness, a feeling that we don’t have to worry about dealing with mega-congregation problems, and that at least among the congregations I serve, we really don’t need a vehicle for recruiting new members. Underneath all that, however, I also had a deeply felt sense that this whole thing contained a valid criticism of much of how we do things in our traditional congregational way.

While we’re not gigantic, FUSN is approaching five hundred adult participants in addition to our two hundred fifty kids and youth. For many of us that precious sense of intimacy that may well have drawn us in is either gone, or preserved in the worst way by many of us simply ignoring the new members. Our success, our size, has become a problem.

Most people come into this building for a sense of a spiritual community for themselves and their children, and to find disciplines and practices that truly open hearts as well as minds. With some confidence I believe we already offer much of value addressing these needs. Over the years, this Society has fostered numerous groups with many helpful foci.

The healing activity is strong here. Our social action committee, quite correctly in my mind, tends to see its work as a spiritual discipline. A recent lay-led service explored prayer as it is practiced among us. And the Monday Zen group is just the latest of many explorations of meditation practices we’ve had here over the years.

And, I think, our starting Small-Group Ministries may, in fact, prove to be among the most useful of these spiritual opportunities for us over the next while. Let me tell you my little story echoing all those tales of the ancients, of those who came to sneer and stayed to pray.

It was at one of the first district clergy gatherings I’d attended since my arrival here in New England. As those who’ve heard me complain know, I’d not been happy with how things were going. The process I was used to, or let me put it more clearly, the correct process for these meetings is to allow the gathered colleagues to sit together and complain. The technical term is check-in.

In the far-flung district from which I’d come, we’d only gather three times a year, so we met for several days at a time. One of the days would be devoted almost entirely to telling the folk who would most understand, just how things were going for each of us. Here in New England, there doesn’t appear to be a lot of tolerance for such touchy-feely stuff.

At clergy gatherings here, we get continuing education units instead of check-in. The program is simple. One shows up, and, depending on how early one arrives, one gets coffee or tea and some very good breakfasty finger foods for, oh, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes. No one wears a nametag. Apparently, if you have to ask, you obviously don’t belong.

Then all are ushered into the sanctuary for a worship service (a very well-done worship service). Another fifteen-to-twenty-minute period with the coffee urn and no nametags follows this. Then, back to the sanctuary for a professional-level workshop. When this is over, the old-timers go off together for private lunches. Not being one, I slink off home, feeling vaguely annoyed.

So, there I was. The worship service was fine. The coffee hour, or more accurately, the two fifteen-minute coffee periods, provided their usual unsatisfactory experience. Then the bell was rung and people were herded back into the sanctuary of the Winchester parish where we hold these clergy meetings.

I hung back. I was feeling even more non-compliant than I usually do. They were going to talk about Small-Group Ministry. I figured, well someone else will hold back, as well. I’m sure. Maybe even two or three. These are UU clergy, after all. I remember getting that psychological profile when I was applying to seminary. The psychologist said my striking lack of conformity would be a death knell to ministry in any other denomination. Fortunately, this would not be a problem for Unitarian Universalists, where generally, a lack of conformity was, in fact, appreciated.

So, I nestled my cup between my hands, sat on the overstuffed couch and waited. And they all went into the workshop. Even the crusty old retireds, most of whom saw nothing good happening in the denomination since their participation in the freedom rides of the nineteen sixties. To a person, they all walked into the workshop. Within two minutes I was alone, my coffee lukewarm.

I thought about leaving. Seriously thought about leaving. Instead I set the cup down, walked into the sanctuary, and sat grumpily in the back pew. The presenter was Glenn Turner, the former District Executive from Maine. I sat there, listening unenthusiastically. As he went on, something he said caught my attention. I realized something very, very important was being discussed.

Way back when I first entered Unitarian Universalism, I noted that we do appear to have the potential of our own spiritual practice. In various papers and sermons I’ve called it the Art of Conversation. The thesis is simple. As we know, we UUs love to talk. That old joke about the fork in the road of life with one sign pointing "to heaven" and the other pointing "to the conversation about heaven" is so funny because we immediately know which way the UUs will want to go.

Talking is fine. Really, talking is important. But, when we throw listening into the mix, then I believe we are very near to heaven. Our possible spiritual practice actually comes about when we listen a little more than we talk. Anyway, I’ve been pitching this idea of an "Art of Conversation" spiritual practice for some time. Without much response, I must add.

But here, I realized, completely without my assistance, some significant number among us have found a way to manifest this potential spiritual practice. They (the Small-Group Ministry folks) have made it real. Here’s how it works. Some relatively small number of people covenant to come together regularly. There is no fixed or absolute pattern, although for most people it seems this getting together needs to be at least twice a month.
The number of participants needs to be small enough so everyone gathered can share, but large enough so that if one or two don’t show up there still is a critical mass. This seems to mean between seven and ten or so people.

The gathering is begun with an acknowledgement that something special is happening. Fundamentalists use prayer, UUs light a chalice and do a reading. This introduces the two-part core.

The first part is a check-in. We all need people who know us. We need to be listened to. And, we need to listen. With a small group of, say, ten, the ratio is probably just about right: one part talking, nine parts listening.

Now there isn’t a great deal of time devoted to this checking-in. A minute or two, or at most, three, for each participant. It’s not meant to be therapy. It’s checking-in with people who, over time, will come to know us even as we come to know them. This can be precious, and in our culture, sadly, it is rare.

Now among the Fundamentalists the second part is Bible study. This can work even for us, for the right gathering. But, what most of us do instead is to have a conversation on spiritual themes. And here is where our "Art of Conversation" comes in. In the Augusta, Maine congregation where much of the work on Small-Group Ministry among Unitarian Universalists is being pioneered, simple curricula are being developed.

A theme is established: fear, love, loss, God. A reading is provided. A brief activity is suggested to allow the participants to reflect for a couple of minutes, and the rest of the two hours or so set aside for the meeting consists of—conversation. A facilitator keeps it moving, discourages dominance by one or two, draws out the shy, and encourages everyone to participate.

If there really were a Unitarian Universalist spiritual practice in the "Art of Conversation," with those capital letters, I have no doubt this is how it would organize. And it does seem to work. And it is amazing. I am astonished and delighted. And, I am looking forward to seeing how this path into depth and meaning and purpose in our lives might take shape here.

I believe we are embarked upon a project that may genuinely develop into a sustained and powerful spiritual discipline. This practice, this manifestation of the Art of Conversation, could be as powerful for some among us as labyrinth circles, Sufi dancing, and Zen meditation are for many others of us—and to some, it may seem like just one more practice. But, this is our practice, a home-grown, completely real, and spiritual Unitarian Universalist discipline.

To get this going a bunch of us attended a workshop led by Calvin Dame, minister of the Augusta congregation and one of the grand poobahs of Small-Group Ministries. We were fired up, let me tell you. Of fifteen or twenty people who expressed serious interest in the organizing of a Small-Group Ministry program among us, ten settled into the long-term commitment to put together a pilot project.

The committee consists of Barbara Bates, Mary Lou Eshelman, Allyson Gray, Katherine Kirschner, Jud Leonard, Nancy Wrenn, Jan Seymour-Ford, Margaret Zaleski, Bob Zeeb and Holly Zeeb. They met regularly for months putting together a program they knew wiould be changed by the participants pretty much as soon as we all got going.

Changed or not, we have something very good. We invited Calvin Dame to come and lead a workshop for us. On Saturday, March 17th, Calvin and other leaders from the Augusta congregation guided us through their experiences.

Then, we offered sign-up sheets for up to ten possible groups scheduled for various times of day, week, and month. It turned out that more of us wanted to join in the inaugural gatherings than we ever guessed—but we were prepared, and we had the resources to put more groups together.

This isn’t going to solve all the problems of the world. But, it is an opportunity to share our hearts, to grow together, and to help find that perspective that can make our actions more useful. In this world, such an opportunity is an amazing thing. I’m so excited. We’re offering a genuine Unitarian Universalist spiritual practice. An amazing thing, indeed.

Enjoy. And, amen.