On Being Called

Anne Herndon

October 20, 1996

Cedar Lane Unitarian Universalist Church

Bethesda, Maryland

I'm delighted to be here this morning because I come with the anticipated pleasure of giving my first service at Cedar Lane. As most of you know, I will be here as ministerial intern on a part-time basis for two years, working at the church for about 20 hours a week while finishing up my courses at Wesley Theological Seminary. My plan is to graduate in the spring of 1998.

I started this process in 1989 when I became a part-time student at Wesley while working full-time as an elementary school teacher in Fairfax County. A Master of Divinity degree at Wesley Seminary requires 90 credit hours which include courses in Hebrew and Christian Scripture, church history, polity, administration, philosophy, preaching, pastoral care, and two internships, one in a church setting and one in a clinical setting. I mention these things because I often find that people have no idea what is involved in preparation for the ministry. Recently I was talking with a woman about these requirements and she said, "I thought the only thing you had to do to be a minister was to be a nice person."

I must admit that at times the slowness of this process, and being in what I call the "Decade Study Program", has been quite frustrating. But on other occasions I comfort myself with the fact that this pace has had the positive effect of providing me with the opportunity to integrate my learnings and to savor the experience.

This morning I'd like to say a few words about myself in terms of an introduction, to share a perspective on how I arrived at this juncture, and also to bring a message that I hope will speak to all of us. And I'd like to approach this message by exploring that tug, the pull, that nudge which is referred to as "being called."

Actually, until recent years, if someone had predicted that today I'd be doing a ministerial internship with the hope of being ordained, I never would have believed it. This new phase of my life was a big surprise to me. And I say this for many reasons. To begin, when I made the decision to pursue the ministry, I was already established in a career. I had known that I wanted to be a schoolteacher from the time I was in the fifth grade. As it turned out, teaching was a very appropriate career choice for me, very challenging and very rewarding. But the combination of teaching and raising a family of three children resulted in a rather hectic existence. And I must confess that my husband and I daydreamed about what we'd like to do when our children were out of college.

I would retire immediately. I'd take lessons in piano and watercolor painting. I'd become more active in social justice issues. Lee and I would travel together. Perhaps we'd buy an old Victorian house in Cape May, New Jersey and restore it. We'd buy a small boat. Raise dogs. We'd exercise regularly and read all those waiting books. As you can see, I had a rather full life planned and it certainly did not include seminary or ministry.

Another reason why this turn in my life is unexpected is because I've spent most of my life being very uncomfortable even being around "persons of the cloth": priests, nuns, and ministers. I remember clearly an incident many years ago when I was a bridesmaid in a friend's wedding. I appealed to the bride, "Please don't seat me near the minister at the reception because he'll probably want to talk about God and I won't have anything to say." I was under the definite impression that ministers were single-faceted people. Given that kind of an attitude, it's evident that this phase of my life indicates a 180 degree turn.

A third reason that this is a surprise is because I'm not entirely comfortable speaking in front of large groups of people. Many a sleepless night I've spent before delivering a presentation for a class or professional organization. And this discomfort dates back for many years. An incident from college biology comes to mind. I was in a section of introductory biology which met in a large auditorium in order to accommodate the few hundred who were listening to the lecture. And I was always amazed that some of my peers would seem very comfortable asking and answering questions, even in that intimidating setting. It was something that we used to discuss at length back at the dorm.

One afternoon I had exciting news to share with my dorm-mates: I had answered a question in biology! "What did you say? What did you say?" they all wanted to know. Proudly I reported that I had said, "Trees." As a minister I know that I'll have to say more than "trees."

After hearing these disclosures, one might reasonably raise the question, "I wonder what prompted her to go to seminary?" In retrospect, I've come to conclude that I've probably been headed in this direction since I was very young. For growing up in Atlantic City, New Jersey, I had an interesting, and eclectic spiritual life. My mother, who was raised in a good Irish-Catholic family, and my father, who was a self-described "non-believer" allowed me free-rein when it came to my church attendance. As a young child I attended a smorgasbord of Catholic and Protestant churches with family and friends. For the most part, I have fond memories of making paper chains with strips inscribed with Bible verses and singing in the children's choir. But I was also haunted by the revelation that I was a sinner and I didn't know quite what to do about that state of affairs.

By the time I was a teen, I started to struggle with some of the more complicated issues of religion. I desperately tried to understand the concept of the Trinity and how Jesus could be both human and divine. I wrestled with the many paradoxes of Christianity: God's love and God's wrath; justice and mercy; faith and works. And I never could come to terms with any of it. Of course, what I didn't know then and what I do know now is that those are questions that theologians have struggled with for centuries. At that point, all I knew was that my concept of God did not coincide with what others believed and I was never fully comfortable in any of the churches that I attended.

Yet the beach and ocean were always a source of strength, comfort, and renewal for me. On the beach I felt a tremendous spiritual connection with a grand, mysterious life-giving power, one that was beyond all knowing, one that I thought of as Holy. So when I walked on the beach and looked at the skies, I somehow knew that there was a gracious spirit in the universe and I was comforted by that thought. In the meantime, I decided to put church-going out of my mind and get on with my life.

Several years later, when I was a beginning teacher in northern New Jersey, far from the ocean but in the midst of the gently rolling hills that I grew to love, one of my friends approached me and announced, "We've got to do something about our social life!" Translation: We've got to meet someone to date. So we devised a plan which we believed would be effective, yet genteel. We would investigate the local churches -- not for the spiritual aspects but for the congregations!

The next Sunday we visited the closest church: the Unitarian Church of Plainfield. I don't remember the sermon title or the hymns. But I remember that behind the pulpit there was a large mural of a mountain scene with the words: I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills. And I remember that, while sitting there, for the first time ever, I felt affirmed in my faith. I could sit in the service and utter a silent "Yes." After years of searching, I had finally found what I was looking for in a church. No, I didn't find my husband there, but I did discover that there was a faith called Unitarian Universalism. Here was a church where I could belong.

I attended that church while I lived in New Jersey. When I moved to Virginia I joined the UU church in Arlington, and then about 12 years ago, I transferred my membership to my present church, Accotink, in Burke, Virginia. That transfer was a tremendous leap of faith for me because at that time Accotink was meeting in an elementary school cafeteria decorated with Dr. Seuss characters, and back then I was already spending more time than I cared to in school cafeterias. But amazingly, the spirituality of the services transcended the surroundings, and I rarely noticed the Cat in the Hat.

Accotink became a source of strength and peace for me. It was within that religious community that I came to terms with my past religious conflicts. It was there I started to take an interest in our UU history and heritage. And it was there that I felt that unexpected little nudge.

In the Bible, there are several instances of "call narratives" in which God calls on certain people to perform a particular task. One of the most famous is in the third chapter of Exodus which relates how God spoke to Moses from a burning bush and called him to go to Egypt to deliver the Israelites from the Pharaoh. Many religions, expanding the conception of the "call" theme, believe that it is God who calls people to ministry.

My call did not involve theophanies like those in Scripture where God breaks into human history. I didn't see a burning bush or a lightning bolt in the sky. Nor did the voice of God speak to me.

My call came in the form of a subtle pull that slowly became a persistent, insistent command. My call involved listening to, and following that inner voice. It involved an awareness of an emerging sense of self. It involved living with a sense of gratitude. And it involved doing that which I felt I truly must do, despite the uncertainties. Which brings me to my message.

Have you been called? I don't mean called to anything as monumental as Moses's assignment to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. I don't even necessarily mean being called to ordained ministry. I mean have you discerned and examined what your inner voice is calling you to do? Have you been called to be a teacher, or a scientist, or a parent? Have you been called to work for social justice issues? Or to volunteer in church or in the community? What causes are close to your heart? Where do you want to direct your efforts and energies?

For I feel that we are all called. I think we are called to take a risk and celebrate life in our own personal way. We are called to share our special gifts with one another. We are called to be the unique person that we are in all of our fullness. I think that we've all been called. We've all been called because we are all here in this world.

We are born. We die. But in between is the gift of life. We have been called from somewhere beyond into the marvelous light of a magnificent creation. We are showered with gifts which we could never earn: the beauty of the sunrise, the glory of autumn, and the bounty of the earth. We possess a mind more wonderful than any computer. We have been given the miraculous gift of speech through which we can communicate the inner longings of the mind and heart. And, of course, we have been blessed with the gift of one another.

However, it seems that we too easily accept the graces and benefits of life, many of which come to us quite apart from our own efforts. How often have we asked, "What possible response should we have for these gifts?" I suggest that our lives, the way we live them, our daily comings and goings are our response.

We are all called. We are born. We die. But in between is the gift of life. We are called to be co-creators in an ever-transforming world. We are called to contribute our installment to the struggles and delights of humanity. It is our turn to share our gifts and our visions.

As Unitarian Universalists our faith is not one of creeds. Each of us must develop our own personal spiritual credo. We draw from the wisdom of the "world's religions which inspires us in our ethical and spiritual life." Our roots are in "Jewish and Christian teachings which call us to respond to God's love by loving our neighbors as ourselves." We are challenged to decide how the spirit calls to us personally. Energized by our faith, we must look into our hearts and be guided by that within us that calls us to a higher sense of purpose.

We UU's are proud of the many women and men of our faith whose lives have been an inspiration to us. Joseph Priestley, Clara Barton, Susan B. Anthony, Dorothea Dix, Horace Mann, A. Powell Davies, and Whitney Young are just a few who have made an impact on our world during their lives.

However, we are guardians of the present. What will our contributions be? Our names may not go down in history because of our deeds. But we are here in this moment of eternity, each of us with human potential that is uniquely our own, with possibilities that differ from all others who have ever lived or who are living now. We are capable of making a positive difference in our lives and in our surroundings. We may seem inconsequential, yet we can be significant. It is for each of us to answer the questions: Who am I? Why am I here? It is for each of us to discern our own on-going sense of purpose which we must re-evaluate periodically during different stages of our lifetime.

In 1990, just after I started seminary, I attended my first General Assembly. GA is a thrilling adventure because its an opportunity to gather with UU's from all over the world and to experience the denomination as a whole. The Opening Night Celebration began with the colorful parade of banners representing churches and fellowships from as far away as Romania, the Philippines, and New Zealand. There was a great diversity of beliefs among the participants at GA, but what touched me deeply was the manner in which everyone held one another in such deep affection.

In his address to the assembly that year, then President Bill Shulz told heart-rending stories about the trip that he had made to the Transylvanian section of Romania just three weeks after the 1989 revolution. As most of you know, this is an area steeped in Unitarian history. And this is where , even after Ceausescu's vicious dictatorship, Unitarians continued, and continue to gather under the ancient words "God is One."

That particular GA, where I saw the many faces of UUism, was especially meaningful to me because it affirmed my decision to enter seminary and to dedicate my time and energy to sharing our religious message. Years ago, when I was searching for a church home in Atlantic City, I never would have found Unitarianism Universalism. There wasn't a UU church anywhere for many miles, and unfortunately there still isn't. Perhaps there will be one some day. Perhaps some day we'll hear that Chalice Lighters has put out a call to assist a new congregation in that area. I look forward to seeing the growth of Unitarian Universalism and I look forward to being part of this exciting ministry.

In closing, may we be reminded to ask ourselves what it is that we must do, despite our uncertainties. Are we listening to the spirit of life within us for that gentle tug, that subtle pull, that whispered nudge? Wherever our paths may lead, may our lives be lived in gratitude and lived with the dedication of a true calling. So may it be.

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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