We've Never Done It This Way Before

If this is your first time to visit, or if you haven't been here for awhile, I should tell you that we don't usually have red tulle curtains with little hearts all over them hanging at the the windows. In fact, we've never done it this way before. Nor do we see ourselves starting a new tradition! We thought we should do something different today, considering the sermon topic. I recalled walking with my two-and-a-half year old grandchild a few weeks ago. After we had gone about a block, I said, "We need to go back now." He turned around, and with a look of sheer delight on his face, began to go backwards at a quick pace. So, we thought about doing the service backwards, but decided on the curtains instead.

"Endings and beginnings, with emptiness and germination in between. That is the shape of the transition periods in our lives," writes William Bridges in his book, Transitions. Making Sense of Life's Changes. "...These times come far more frequently in adulthood and cut far more deeply into it than most of us imagined that they would ..But the same process is also going on continually in our lives."

After September 11, we heard (and may have said ourselves), "nothing will ever be the same." Of course that is true, but nothing ever is just the same as it was before. There are always subtle, almost imperceptible changes occurring, so subtle that we scarcely notice them, if we notice them at all. People do go through cycles of change throughout adulthood. Bob Kegan and Sharon Parks in their research at Harvard learned that most adults experience alternating periods of equilibrium and disequilibrium which vary in length and intensity, throughout their lifetimes.

But some things are so cataclysmic, whether personal or on a much larger scale, that they alter our perceptions as well as our world. We long for lost innocence, lost lives, lost love...We say, "nothing will ever be the same."

In our everyday lives, even good changes may be hard to deal with. A great promotion on the job often brings grief, anxiety, and even illness with it. Although much has been gained, much has been lost too. Marriage, the birth of a baby, and a move into a bigger or better house may also bring with them a sense of loss accompanied by grief. Few people can imagine the great changes which will take place when the first child comes into the family. While a new way of life is beginning, the old way has ended, and somewhat abruptly! Happily, most of us manage the stress of such changes well enough to focus on the joy of having the new baby.

What we bring with us to any transitional situation is a style that we have developed for endings, says Bridges. If we have handled them well in the past, we will most likely be able to call on the same resources we have used before; if not, we may need some help or at least to try some new approaches. If you are not aware of how you generally deal with endings, Bridges suggests thinking about how you usually leave a party or other gathering. Do you start a new conversation as others prepare to leave, or say goodbye and dash out suddenly? Do you try to prolong the occasion to avoid the pain of separation or leave precipitously without farewells? How do you deal with moving or changing office space? Bridges suggests that thinking about our patterns may lead to self-understanding as we deal with more significant endings. There really is no one right way to say goodbye, to mourn, to decide when to move on. However we deal with them, says Bridges, "endings are the first phase of transition. The second phase is a time of lostness and emptiness before 'life' resumes an intelligible pattern and direction, while the third phase is that of beginning anew."

I do not mean in the course of these brief comments to equate transitions in church life with war and international terrorism, nor-more importantly perhaps-with personal tragedy, death, or loss of relationships. There are, however, similarities. And the ways in which we deal with personal change carry over into congregational practice.

Some churches never seem to learn how to say goodbye to departing ministers or other staff members, and typically send them on their way with huffiness if not hostility. That is not your style; you are very good with the formal gracious farewell! That is one reason former ministers are happy to return for a visit on specific occasions and for celebrations, such as the recent 50^th anniversary events.

An interim year is something like a bridge connecting the past with the future, the known with the unknown. For those most intimately affected by the transition and the eventual new beginning in religious education ministry, this year might seem more like a bridge attached to firm solid ground on one end and sort of flapping around on the other. It must seem like a shaky way to get from here to there. Going back probably seems like a better option than going forward. But there is no going back to the past, and as for managing a transition, there is no way out but through.

Bridges says, "Every transition begins with an ending. We have to let the old thing go before we can pick up the new-not just outwardly, but inwardly, where we keep our connections to people and places that act as definitions of who we are." That does not mean throwing out all the programs, processes, and procedures which have served us well in the past; it does suggest looking at what we do and asking ourselves why we do it, and if that is what we really want to do. Old ways are sometimes best, but not always.

"One of the biggest problems that endings cause in organizations," according to Bridges, "is confusion. Things change and obviously we won't do some of the things we used to do. But which things?"

I want to tell you a story, perhaps apocryphal, of the interim religious educator and the Christmas pageant. She was surprised to see in her job description that one of her duties was "to be responsible for the Christmas pageant," not because she had never been responsible for a Christmas pageant, but because it often comes with the territory, seldom is mentioned in a job description, and in any case requires the work of many to make it happen. As the holiday season approached, however, she learned that she was not to be responsible for "a" Christmas pageant, but for "the" Christmas pageant, the one they "always" had. Children had seldom been a part of the adult service on Sunday mornings, but the pageant was a beloved intergenerational service held on Christmas Eve.

Searches through the files (which had been sorted and rearranged extensively over the summer) uncovered no scripts or other references to the pageant, and calls went out to far places for copies. It was a really simple pageant, based on the scriptural story of the nativity, and using traditional Christmas carols. It turned out there were wonderful costumes stored in someone's house, and that they would appear at the proper time.

One day, a file folder showed up labeled "Christmas Pageant" and containing one thing: the words and music to "Little Drummer Boy." The interim asked around to find out if in fact this song was a part of the pageant. Oh, yes, she was told. And who has responsibility for this piece of the pageant? Well, someone suggested, the former religious educator's husband had done it in the past. The interim was quick to say that her husband was not musical so they would have to help her find someone else. As it turned out, one of the fathers was even then tuning up his guitar and preparing to work with the drummer boys. One day someone asked the interim, "Who is taking the youth group to get the hay bales for the pageant?" "Hay bales?" As it turned out, that was all taken care of. The pageant was a big success. So big, that the interim suggested an Earth Day pageant, which was greeted with delight in a Sunday morning intergenerational service.

The interim thought that the Christmas pageant should not be a prominent part of the new religious educator's job description, on an equal basis with, say, "works with the R.E. committee, conducts children's worship, plans curriculum," but was unable to get the search committee or board to drop that line.

Years passed, and many changes occurred in the congregation, one of them being that children attended the first part of the service every Sunday. The interim was asked to return for another year when the religious educator resigned suddenly. The Christmas pageant was still in the job description. The interim was ready-she had saved a copy of the script, the rehearsal schedule, notes on the costumes, and snapshots her husband had taken of the pageant. (He's not musical, but he's a good photographer.) And she knew who to ask about getting bales of hay. To her surprise, she found file folders with several different versions of Christmas pageants done since her last time around, and learned that people were eagerly waiting to hear what new ideas folks might bring forth for that year's event! As the holidays approached and plans for the pageant were finalized, someone asked, "Oh, do you have any ideas for our Earth Day pageant? We have one in the Sunday morning service every year, but we like to do something different every time!"

The interim has reflected long and hard on this sequence of events and now believes that what people were so intent on in the first instance was not "the Christmas pageant" but having the children and youth of the community involved in the worship life of the church. Once that was realized in other ways, there was no longer a reason to cling to "the pageant." The culture of the community had changed in important ways, making it possible for folks to keep what they really cherished and to let go of the rest.

Bridges suggests that one task of the time in between the ending and the new beginning is asking, "What do I really want?" Would that the interim had had the wisdom to ask that question in the very beginning, years ago. Would that she had the wisdom to ask it today in a way that is perceived as gathering information to lift up for analysis and not as a challenge to every custom and process held dear to someone involved in religious education. This is a good time to look at what we do, and how we do it, and to think carefully about what is to be carried across that interim-year bridge into the future.

The Ministerial Search Committee is busy working toward filling the open position for Minister of Religious Education. There is work for others to do as well: committees and groups who work in religious education for all ages, ministers, other staff members all have transition tasks to take care of. What do we really want in religious education? What is important to us and what do we do because it has been done that way in the past? What do we expect in the new Minister of Religious Education, someone who will follow by rote customs that have been established, or someone who will bring not only new energy, but also new ideas, a new vision, to the task? What kind of information will that person need to do the job? How may each person involved in the program help?

Change is scary for some people, exhilarating for others, but hard for almost everyone. Transitions are easier for those who are able to always remain open to the possibility of change. Alfred North Whitehead has said, "The art of progress is to preserve order amidst change and to preserve change amid order."

Every Sunday in chapel our children sing "Enter, Rejoice, and Come In," which includes these words: "Don't be afraid of some change..." Children and adults often need to be reminded that the loss and grief which come with all change are not the end of the story. "Goodbye" is only the end of a chapter; "hello" is beginning of a new one.

There are variations on the quote, "we've never done it this way before." For example: "we have always done it that way" and "we tried that, but it didn't work" One version-I forget which one-has been called "the seven last words of the church" by religious commentator Martin Marty.

Once a family returning from church took a different route than usual. The younger child began to cry and protest, "This isn't the way home." The parents insisted that it was, but with the wisdom of an eight year old, her brother said, "It's one way to go home, but it's not the way we usually go." This dispelled the anxiety of the little sister, and caused the parents to reflect on their responses. There is almost always yet another way to get from here to there. We've never done it this way before, but in a time of transition, may we remain open to the possibilities around us and ahead of us.

We are moving across a bridge between the past and the future; no one knows what lies ahead. Let's hold hands. Many personal transitions are taking place as well. Whether you are at an ending, that lost and empty space in between, or at a new beginning, this religious community is here for you. No one knows what lies ahead.

Let's hold hands.

Cedar Lane Unitarian Universalist Church
9601 Cedar Lane, Bethesda, Maryland 20814-4099
Tel: 301-493-8300    Fax: 301-897-5713
e-mail: office@CedarLane.org
Sunday Services at 10 a.m.
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