The Unitarian Fellowship of Peterborough

Music by Glen Caradus

Reflections on life, ministry and religious community, and especially the transitions we experience in our personal lives as well as in the life of the congregation.

Religious Exploration: A Bodies and Selves day; on our true selves

ANNUAL BUDGET MEETING to follow service

Opening Words

On this weekend when our friends and families south of the border are celebrating Thanksgiving, we also give thanks.

On this day of Advent in the Christian calendar, we also look to the future with hope and expectation.

In this interval between holidays, autumn-into-winter, we honour the intervals in the seasons of our own lives.

Together we give thanks... for Life... for Love,
we share our hopes and dreams for a bright tomorrow,
we honour our history and the heritage left to us,
we celebrate the here and now, in simply being together.

Time For All Ages

(song by Carol Johnson)

Chorus:

I like the age I am

It's a wonderful life, no matter when

So if I'm a hundred or if I am 10

I like the age I am

Reading

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

These words written some 2300 years ago, are some of the most familiar from the Hebrew Scriptures; and if you add the words “turn, turn, turn” and set it to music, you may hear Pete Seeger’s voice in your head. But this is the biblical New Revised Standard version.

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born, and a time to die;

a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;

a time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to break down, and a time to build up;

a time to weep, and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together,

a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

a time to seek, and a time to lose;

a time to keep, and a time to throw away;

a time to tear, and a time to sew;

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

a time to love, and a time to hate;

a time for war, and a time for peace.

When Pete Seeger sings these words, his closing line is:

“A time of peace: I swear it’s not too late.” Yes. May it be so.

Reading

The second reading is in the words of Max Coots. I have chosen two short excerpts from a chapter called “Between Two Seasons, a Holiday” in his book titled Seasons of the Self.

                        [about half way into the chapter, Max says...]

This time of year seems a between-times time.

Autumn’s gone! 

The katydids have left no sound, and

There is not heat enough to make them sing again.

Those creatures that go to mud at the first real touch of cold have gone to mud.

But Winter has not quite come.

If we had a sense of seasons we’d make a holiday for solitude,

As our fathers made one of harvest fruits.

Between seasons is a good time to listen to one’s own thoughts and make peace with one’s environment.

A good time to put aside the getting of too many things,

A time to solve old puzzles we had no time to solve in Summer months.

                        [then, skipping over several paragraphs, the chapter closes with this...]

We have to think in longer terms than one season at a time.

There are bad years as well as good.

Bad days too, and good.

Right now things are balanced pretty well . . . right now . . . between two seasons . . . between the Winter and the Fall.

Someone said, ‘To everything, a season. To every purpose, a time.’

This time of year it seems that way to me.

Right now, between two seasons, I’d make a holiday of solitude, with that clear view the loss of leaves allows, and with faith that in its time my life, like that of earth, is balanced out,

If I have patience enough to see, and if I make a time to touch the earth again and see the sense it makes of seasons and of me.

(end quote)

Message

At the gym the other day, a couple people were talking about their aches and pains, and one of them said “I don’t like growing old” to which others agreed. I couldn’t resist saying “what’s the alternative?” The reply? “Not growing old.” Really? I said the only alternative to not growing old, as far as I knew, was dying young. Which met with some shocked silence. I will admit I don’t enjoy the aches and pains, the failing vision and the elusive memory, but for the most part I like the age I am. When someone tells me I’m not old, I think they are suggesting that old is bad. I’m working on a transformation from old is bad to “old is awesome.”

I understand that in some traditions a person of my age is a sage, and is honoured to be called an elder. In the culture we are immersed in, in this fast-paced, materialistic, ever-changing frenetic society we live in, elders are not so highly valued. We are not producing as we used to, not consuming as we must to help the economy grow, we are beginning to outnumber the younger gainfully employed ones and will be a financial burden on them, we are not keeping up with the times enough to even understand the world of our grandchildren nor are they aware of their need for our wisdom. So, liking the age I am is a bit of a challenge, it’s counter-cultural, but I’m working on it. Borrowing Max Coots’ metaphor of the seasons, I am celebrating being in the winter of my life which is not a bad place to be, if you have a warm blanket, a cozy nest, and the time to ponder the mysteries of life.

Ecclesiastes tells us there is a time to be born... a time to die. A time to plant... a time to reap. A time to mourn... a time to dance. He reminds us of the  seasons of life, presenting them more or less as sets of opposites. And yes, there are beginnings and endings, there are changes that come to all of us in our lives, but Ecclesiastes does not speak of the transitions, the empty or fearful, confusing or chaotic spaces we must navigate as we adjust to the changes in our lives.

In our second reading today, Max Coots speaks of the time between the seasons, the time of transition, making space and taking time to listen to one’s own thoughts and make peace with one’s situation. His reading encourages us to honour the transitions - to recognize the importance of that “between two seasons, holiday of solitude.” It suggests to me that the times of emptiness, or even feelings of confusion and chaos that come especially when experiencing a significant change are not problems to be gotten rid of, but times of growth. Not always welcome but of real value.

In exploring this topic, I have drawn on a book that Julie loaned me (thanks Julie) called simply Transitions with the sub-title: Making Sense of Life’s Changes, by William Bridges. Bridges points out, and I discovered this as well, that “transitions” is found in few subject indexes. Much has been written about specific life changes, divorce, bereavement, career change, empty nest, etc. “but nothing on the inner and underlying process of transition itself.” According to Bridges, “transition is the natural process of disorientation and reorientation marking the turning points in the path of growth.”

So he makes a distinction between change and transition, the changes being outward events, whereas transition is a more inward process. Here’s an example. I can tell you the date of my mother’s death, but the transition I experienced when her life ended began when she was critically ill and lasted for... I guess for years. I can’t tell you the date when I adjusted to the loss (no more phone calls or letters or hugs from the person who brought me into the world) nor when I finally accepted my new role as the matriarch. It was a process. Another example: I can tell you the date that I retired, Sept. 1, 2004, but the transition within me (the disorientation and reorientation) began at least a year earlier and lasted for several years I would say.

When Julie called me in September and asked if I would take a service in late November, of course I agreed for we have a covenant which includes the promise I made to her to “gladly agree to serve” when asked. Still, when I stopped to think about writing a sermon, I was at quite a loss. I went to that little mental box that is labelled “sermon ideas,” and found nothing there. And that was a bit of an “ah-ha” moment of self-awareness. I recognized I have truly and finally come through the transition from active ministry to the next phase of my life. “Retirement” is not an adequate term for what I’m talking about. Retirement simply says one is done with the work one was paid for, whereas I feel I have entered a new phase of life, with new things to do and to learn - a new person to be. No longer do I have church and ministry on my mind 24/7. No longer is every book I read and every film I see and every conversation I have sparking some thought in my mind about the next sermon, or the next newsletter column, or some project of the congregation.

Given my reflections on the latest transition I’ve come through, it seemed like a topic that might interest others. You may or may not be retired, or even contemplating retirement yet, but all of us have had to navigate, several times in our lives, through transitions big and small, and incidentally this congregation has also experienced many changes, and therefore times of transition. While the changes you have experienced in your life may be entirely different from mine, I invite you to reflect on the experience. Some of us adapt to change fairly easily and even relish and seek it, others take great comfort in the familiar and resist change or feel anxious about it. What has been your experience of the process of transition? Is the uncertainty about what comes next alarming? Exciting? You can bet that whatever your experience, there are others here who experience it differently. For each of us is unique.

When someone very close to me was heading for retirement, and I asked “what are you going to do when you retire?” his answer was “I’m not going to DO anything.”  At the time I was shocked, worried even. Doesn’t one have to do retirement planning? Don’t you have to have something meaningful to switch to when you stop doing the meaningful work you’ve been doing? Don’t you have to prevent yourself from wasting time and being lazy? Don’t you have to have a list of things you always wanted to do but never had the time for, and jump into them with enthusiasm? At the time I was shocked. Now I feel differently. Now I know that “doing nothing” is a valuable part of the transition period. It’s unsettling, but being in a state of confusion about “who am I now?” “what do I want?” “where am I going?” i.e. having the time and space to go inward and rediscover yourself, that is worthwhile. Looking at a blank page in the calendar and asking yourself “what do I want to do today?” may well be healthier than jump starting a whole new agenda for your life.

I mentioned the book on “Transitions” by William Bridges. Let me share with you a couple of his recommendations.

“Take your time. While outer forms can change in an instant, the inner reorientation that brings us back into a vital relationship to people and activity takes time.” Resist the temptation to make sudden shifts into “fast forward” or “reverse.” Jumping into a new relationship too quickly when you find yourself alone might be one example of fast forward; you can think of others. For a congregation, jumping quickly to hire a replacement minister frequently leads to problems. Which is the reason for interims. As to reverse, most of you have heard the story of the elderly minister who finally retired (to the relief of the congregation) who when celebrated with a retirement party decided that if he was loved so much, he would stay! The story gets a laugh because we identify with the congregation. Groan. Now I’m thinking about that minister. He knew it was time to retire. He made the decision to retire. But he couldn’t let go. Why is letting go so difficult? My guess is he had no idea who he would be if he weren’t the minister. He couldn’t face that “doing nothing” prospect, and shifted into reverse. The point is, whether a change has been thrust upon you, or you have chosen it, it still is a challenge, and it takes time to work it through. So, Bridges tells us, resist the temptation to “do something - anything!” The transition process brings one chapter to a conclusion, but just as important it takes time to discover “whatever we need to learn for the next step.”

“Find someone to talk to” is also Bridges advice. It could be a professional counsellor, your minister, a good friend, a support group. And it is not that you necessarily need advice but more importantly the “opportunity to put into words your dilemmas and your feelings so that you can fully understand what is going on.” Finally, “Think of transition as a process of leaving the status quo, living for a while in a fertile ‘time-out’, and then coming back with an answer.” This last bit of advice from Bridges seems to me to be just what Max Coots was speaking of in his image of the “holiday of solitude.”

In the process of reading and thinking about change and transitions, I have been wondering about the role of religious community in times of transition. The song “Be Ye Lamps unto Yourselves” which Resonance sang last week has been going through my head. “Be ye lamps unto yourselves. Be your own confidence; hold to the truth within yourselves as to the only lamp.”Although our hymnbook attributes the words to the Buddha, I believe it is one of the themes that runs through our Unitarian and Universalist history too. Isn’t that Ralph Waldo Emerson’s theme of “self reliance”? (Emerson being one of our historical heroes). It is a positive philosophy in contrast with one which requires you to submit totally to a higher power, that asks you to follow a tradition without question. In that sense, it may be a comfort and support to those who are struggling with loss of faith and find here that their questions and doubts are welcome.

But this theology of self reliance which affirms individual choice and freedom of conscience says little about the need for community. “Be ye lamps unto yourselves” could well be the chant of a monk in a solitary cell. We need more than solitude (most of us do). Affirming your own light inside might be of little comfort when you are overwhelmed with grief and loneliness, and feel your lamp has gone out. Then, perhaps you take more comfort from a philosophy that says we are incomplete, we are not independent but interdependent, that says as Albert Schweitzer is quoted to have said that when our own light goes out another person can rekindle the flame for us, and for that we are truly grateful.

A generation or two ago, many came to Unitarianism due to loss of faith in more traditional religions. In more recent years, seekers are often reacting to a culture that is too secular, competitive and materialistic, and maybe also to a constantly changing world. There is comfort in the community, and space given to share personal transitions through the lighting of a candle.

There is a song we have sometimes shared here: “Return again, return again, return to the home of your soul. Return to who you are, return to what you are, return to where you are born and reborn again.” To me, this feels like a mantra for someone experiencing transitions. When we are in the midst of a transition we often ask ourselves: who am I now? what is my role now? where am I going? how am I going to get there? The message I hear in this song is not to return in the sense of going back, but on a deeper level, return to the core of who you are, return to your deepest values, return to where you find sanctuary and renewal. For many of us, this is where we find that sanctuary and renewal.

For you, for all of us, may it be so. Blessed be.

Closing Words

Within each ending are the seeds of new beginnings. Within each beginning are also endings. Transitions are times of confusion and uncertainty and chaos; there is letting go and holding on, and space for doing nothing. And finally some resolution. No one can tell you how long it takes, or give you a formula for transitions, for we are all unique. So I will just close with this simple blessing:

May this season of your life be all that you hope for,

may you grow in the transitions,

may you find sanctuary and renewal in this community,

and may you “return again.... to the home of your soul.”

Go in Peace.