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Cedar Lane Tambourine Rattle
April 17, 2005
Jerry Davidoff
Cedar Lane Unitarian Universalist Church
Bethesda, Maryland
In spite of what you may have read or even heard just now in a generous introduction, you may quite properly wonder “so, what are they doing here anyway?”
Why are two Westport Connecticut Church members invading Cedar Lane turf?. We are not strangers. We have worshiped at Cedar Lane several times over the years. We have heard Ken MacLean preach here. Leslie Westbrook and I served on the Ministerial Fellowship Committee for a few exciting years. If it helps, I have even known Alan Rosenthal for over seventy years!
It’s about relationships—and about admiration. We’ve known your minister for some years, and we have admired what you, as a congregation, and Roger have done to make this an outstanding church.
It isn’t only the length of relationships that brings us here, but the intensity of relationships. Our interconnections are in the world of Unitarian Universalism. It’s true. It deepens our existing bonds, and enlarges them. I’m going to try to let you see how. As a mentor of Denny’s used to say when she worked in the advertising department of the New Yorker, use facts, not assertions.
I’m going to take a risk. I’m going to talk low brow.
When talking low brow to Unitarian Universalists one does take a risk—for in many of our congregations some folks will tell you that they can’t afford to make an appropriate contribution to their church because they support public television. My risk: I’m going to act like the bottom of pages in a low brow publication called Readers Digest. (I won’t ask for a show of hands, but possibly some of you have heard of it). Like Readers Digest page bottoms, I’ll use short pieces, in which I hope you’ll find a somewhat unified theme.
It isn’t easy being a Unitarian Universalist. The historical continuum is that of heresy. A great word, heresy. In the original Greek, from which it derives, it means choice.
Choice is freedom. It is what freedom is all about. Choice. I remember, searingly, a time when I was in therapy for depression. The psychiatrist asked me what I’d do with my life if money were not a factor. Choice! I pondered it painfully—maybe even obsessed over it—for weeks. It is without doubt the dirtiest question I’ve ever been asked. Imagine unrestricted choice. A dirty question; an opportunity for heresy.
It isn’t easy being a Unitarian Universalist. No one makes the decisions for us. No one tells us what to think. Not in the Beltway. . . not in Indianapolis, or San Diego or in Seattle or in Boston. Our inner senses of responsibility, perhaps of propriety, guided by our loves sand our learnings, all affect that choice. The choices are not always evident. And sometimes we are unwise, sometimes even wrong. It isn’t easy being a Unitarian Universalist.
We seek answers. The process of seeking answers is itself often rewarding. The parable is told of the lady shopping in the yards goods department in the historic original Filene’s Basement in Boston. The lady asked the clerk for fifty yards of chiffon. “I want to make a nightie,” said the customer. “That’s a lot of chiffon, for a nightie” remarked the salesperson. “I’m afraid you don’t understand,” said the customer, “my husband’s a Unitarian. He’d rather seek than find.”
Elaine Pagels, who will give the important Ware lecture at our General Assembly in June, is a distinguished professor at Princeton Theological Seminary. She is a prolific, and readable author. A reviewer of Pagels book Beyond Belief wrote of it:
...When her young son was diagnosed with what proved to be a terminal illness, Pagels found herself standing in the back of a church and deciding she needed to be there. Despite a lifetime struggle with church doctrine, she recognized that “here was a place to weep without imposing tears upon a child, in a heterogeneous community that had gathered to sing, to celebrate, to acknowledge common needs, and to deal with what we cannot control or imagine.”
What a statement of a church’s true business. For me in describes much of why I go to church. Does it do that for you?
And yet. And yet. Perfection does elude us. If there were notches in my cane for each time I’ve said to myself, and maybe even to Denny, “I’m never going to that damned church again,” my cane would be a toothpick.
And yet. And yet. When my church was conducting a survey in connection with a successful canvass, a questionnaire asked what events or activities were the most effective in eliciting a generous contribution: the Fellowship Dinner? A distinguished guest speaker? The minister’s canvass sermon? The Canvass brochure? Personal contact from a canvasser?
I sent an e-mail in response: “None of the above. I pledge because it is my church. I pledge if the sermon is bad, if the Board is wrong, if the choir is flat, if the coffee is cold. It’s my church. I need it and it needs me.”
The story is told of Max Goldberg who attended his synagogue with unremitting regularity and devotion. Every Sabbath, both Friday evening and on Saturday, he prayed and he prayed and he prayed. He prayed that he would win the lottery.
One Friday, in desperation and frustration, he screamed, “God, is it too much to ask. I come to synagogue regularly. I praise you. I try to live by your commandments. I live a life of prayer and study. IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK THAT YOU - JUST ONCE - LET ME WIN THE LOTTERY.”
A deep, resonant, overwhelming voice shook the foundations of the synagogue. “Goldberg, give me a break,” thundered the voice. “Buy a ticket.”
You the members of Cedar Lane, you have bought tickets, and you have won.
What a prize. Your remarkable church. Vibrant. Full of activity. Redolent of commitment. An example of what a congregation can and should be. You are much to be congratulated. You are the city on a hill. Your light is a beacon for your fellow Unitarian Universalists.
Some years ago that distinguished UU cleric, Jack Mendelsohn, wrote that there are great congregations and great ministers. What was, and is, remarkable, he wrote, is that each creates the other.
I quote from scripture this Sunday morning. From Matthew, Book 5, these familiar lines:
You are the salt of the earth: but if the salt has lost its savor, how shall it be salted? It is afterward good for nothing but to be cast out, and to be trodden underfoot. You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid.
By being a great congregation you have brought to full flower the ministry of Roger Fritts. That flowering is reciprocal, for you have been the fertile soil. The relationship is enviable. You are the salt of the earth—you give the salt its savor.
Keep buying those tickets. For as you need your church and it needs you, so, too, the broader Unitarian Universalism movement needs you and your example.
It is an honor to be among you.
Cedar Lane Unitarian Universalist
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