WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO BE "WELCOMING?"

a sermon preached by the Rev. Dr. Tim W. Jensen
at the First Religious Society in Carlisle, Massachusetts
Sunday March 6th, 2005

Opening Words:

He drew a circle that shut me out
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout
But love and I had the wit to win;
We drew a circle that took him in.
       -- Edwin Markham


When I was fifteen years old and a sophomore in High School, my father gave me a book that he guaranteed would change my life forever. Since he was my father, naturally I was a little skeptical; but also since he was my father, I took the book anyway, and actually even read it, and wouldn't you know if it didn't turn out that he was right. The book was...does anybody want to take a guess at what the book was? The book was Dale Carnegie's How to Win Friends and Influence People, and although I'm sure there's plenty about this book that I've forgotten over the years, (and probably plenty more that has simply become part of my personality), the one thing I remember best is Carnegie's simple observation that if you want people to be interested in you and listen to what you say, you need to become genuinely interested in other people. It was the word "genuine" in particular that stuck with me. You can't just fake it; it's got to be real, and authentic. (Which is actually a lot easier than it might sound, even if you are basically kind of a shy, introverted bookworm like myself, since people are also the most genuinely interesting thing on the planet.) Become genuinely interested in other people. Smile when you see them, and call them by name, listen to what they have to say and try to see and talk about things from their perspective, let them know that they're important, and give them a good reputation to live up to rather than automatically being suspicious of their motives or assuming the worst. That's what my father wanted me to know about human relationships when I was fifteen years old. And it really did change my life.

Some years later (although not nearly so soon as I probably should have) I learned another important lesson about understanding and communicating with other people when you DON'T see eye to eye, and when no one is too likely to change their mind anytime soon either. Say what you mean. Mean what you say. Try not to BE mean when you say it. It is possible to disagree without being disagreeable; just as it is possible to agree on some things and disagree about others, and still move forward with the former without letting the latter hold you back. Not every difference of opinion is a difference in principle, while at least agreeing on the eventual goal or destination is often the first step in determining the next step of the journey.

And once again, honesty, authenticity, and genuine respect are the keys. It is difficult to reach an agreement with someone who is truly disingenuous, just as it is difficult to reach an agreement with someone you ASSUME is disingenuous right from the get-go, without taking the time to understand their point of view. Simply building trust through honest efforts at mutual understanding often precedes even the most basic attempts to resolve the more substantive conflicts of our lives.

Developing systems of mutual accountability, or even just a shared commitment to working toward mutually acceptable solutions, are other methods for creating agreement in the face of disagreement, and bringing people together from different perspectives in order to address a shared concern. But even so, as we all already know, it isn't always possible for everyone to get their own way all the time. Sometimes we have to give up a little of what we want in order to give others a little of what they want. And sometimes not even compromise is enough to bridge the places where there is no real common ground, and no real likelihood of discovering any no matter how long one explores.

But this isn't the situation here at FRS. One thing that's been puzzling me for about a year now is why this church, which seems to do so many things so well so easily, has struggled so hard over the decision to declare itself a Welcoming Congregation. Is it just that we don't really trust one another very much? Or that we don't care about what one another think, or that we can't find any common ground or commit to a mutually acceptable solution? I know I've only been here a relatively short time, but that just doesn't make sense to me. It just doesn't add up with everything else I know about you. In fact, it seems like just about everyone I talk to seems to have pretty much the same idea about what they want FRS to be like. Based on what you tell me (and I realize that people don't always tell their minister EVERYTHING that they're thinking), you want this church to be a place where people truly do feel welcome, just as they are, whoever they are...and where no one is labeled, or feels like they have to keep secrets in order to be accepted, and everyone's privacy and integrity are respected.

That's the vision, which is so widespread I'm tempted to say that it's universal. The disagreements are all about how best to get there. Some of you think that we're that way already, while others of you know (often through painful personal experience) that we're not quite there yet. Some of you want a very precise and specific Welcoming Statement, while others of you prefer something more simple and general, and still others (like myself) don't see why we can't have one of each. (That's how I got this [tummy], by asking for "one of each....") Nobody seems too enthusiastic about buying and flying a Rainbow flag, not even a small, discrete one for down by the side door, so if that's what you've been worried about you can probably relax now, since I'm pretty certain that it's never going to happen. In fact, it seems to me that a lot of the tension around this whole Welcoming Congregation issue is not so much concerned with the question of inclusivity as it is uncertainty about what comes next, or even the need for any change at all.

Even liberal churches like this one are by nature fairly conservative institutions. The church is a spiritual community which makes its home in the world of myth and ritual, and which intentionally identifies itself with a heritage and traditions that extend back hundreds or even thousands of years. Churches are most comfortable with the familiar, just as it is our familiarity with the traditions and rituals of the church that often gives us the most comfort in times of stress or crisis. Which is basically just another way of saying that change does not come easily to most church communities, since their natural reaction is to respond to the challenges of a changing future by looking deep within, to that part of the tradition which seems most grounded in the eternal. And this is exactly as it should be, provided we are willing to take and apply those timeless spiritual truths to new and changing situations, rather than simply attempting to resist change by escaping into our memories of the past.

The inclusion of Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgendered individuals in our society (I'm not talking about the First Religious Society now, but society at large)...is one of those changes which almost seems to demand a religious response. Some denominations -- not just the Unitarian Universalist Association, but also the United Church of Christ, the Disciples of Christ, the Society of Friends, Reformed Judaism, the American Baptists, the Episcopalians, the Presbyterians, the Methodists, the Lutherans, and even the Roman Catholics, have all been wrestling with this issue over the past few decades, and all of them have taken positive steps toward becoming more "open and affirming" to their GLBT members, as well as more supportive and protective of their legal and civil rights in the secular world. Some of them have obviously taken bigger steps than others, but all of them seem to be moving in the same direction. And there are other denominations...I won't bother to mention their names...who still insist that homosexuality is either a sin, or a disease, or both; and who act on that belief by excluding GLBT folk from their congregations, and often (it seems) by trying as hard as they can to make life as difficult for them other ways as well.

But you don't need me to explain to you how this all works. You've all doubtlessly had plenty of opportunities to see it with your own eyes. What I'm most concerned about is what happens here in THIS community -- about what we can do, as people of faith, to become part of the solution rather part of the problem, and to express our deeply-held convictions about the timeless truth of the inherent worth and dignity of every person in a way that honors both our own integrity and the integrity of those around us. So it doesn't really matter so much to me what kind of Welcoming Statement we come up with, so long as it's one that we can all live with, and which accurately reflects the way that we feel. And likewise, I'm much less concerned about what's going to happen at the meeting this afternoon as I am about what happens tomorrow, and the day after that and the day after that, as we attempt to live up to the values and the principles we have chosen to affirm.

The other night at the Circle of Mutual Understanding, I was very gratified to listen to the collective wisdom of the members of this congregation, as about thirty of us sat in relationship with one another and shared our views and feelings on this subject. We already know a lot about what it means to be Welcoming, and we also know that we all still have a lot to learn. We understand, almost intuitively, that this issue is not so much about how we may or may not feel about the lifestyles of those we welcome, as it is about ourselves, and our ability to show hospitality to strangers, and to "become genuinely interested in other people." We all have neighbors, relatives, teachers, colleagues, and countless casual acquaintances who are gay; we care about them, perhaps even are a little worried about them...and over the years we have learned, and are continuing to learn, to smile when we see them and to call them by name; to listen to what they have to say, and to try to see and understand things from their point of view; to let them know that we think their lives are important, and that we want them to be our friends.

And this is what it means to be Welcoming. It's not about the politics, or some sort of activist agenda, although for some of us at some point it could become that, just as many of us are already actively concerned about all sorts of social and political issues. But that's all going to happen anyway, regardless of the vote this afternoon. It's not even really about making some sort of public statement, although certainly it never hurts to state publicly what we believe. Mostly it's just about making the commitment to practice what we preach, to live up to the ideals of our covenant, and to support one another in our efforts to become the kind of wise, compassionate, generous and spiritually mature beings we aspire to be.

The challenge of becoming truly "Welcoming" is the challenge of being true to ourselves. It's about becoming genuine -- an authentic community, true to our principles, honest in our purposes, respectful of the integrity of every human being, and genuinely interested in other people And I know it isn't always going to be easy, and I know we aren't going to get it perfect every time. But it's worth the effort...not only for what it means to others, but for what it meas to ourselves.

Pray with me now, won't you?

[concluding extemporaneous prayer]

********************

READING:

WHEN I HEARD AT THE CLOSE OF THE DAY

--Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass [1860, 1867]

WHEN I heard at the close of the day how my name had been
receiv'd with plaudits in the capitol, still it was not a
happy night for me that follow'd,

And else when I carous'd, or when my plans were
accomplish'd, still I was not happy,

But the day when I rose at dawn from the bed of perfect
health, refresh'd, singing, inhaling the ripe breath of
autumn,


When I saw the full moon in the west grow pale and
disappear in the morning light,

When I wander'd alone over the beach, and undressing
bathed, laughing with the cool waters, and saw the sun
rise,

And when I thought how my dear friend my lover was on his
way coming, O then I was happy,

O then each breath tasted sweeter, and all that day my food
nourish'd me more, and the beautiful day pass'd well,

And the next came with equal joy, and with the next at
evening came my friend,

And that night while all was still I heard the waters roll slowly
continually up the shores,

I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid and sands as directed
to me whispering to congratulate me,

For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same
cover in the cool night,

In the stillness in the autumn moonbeams his face was
inclined toward me,

And his arm lay lightly around my breast — and that night I
was happy.