"Building for Our Future"

There's a lot to learn from embarking on an ambitious building program.

Something I've learned –

        although being married to an architect, 

                I have to admit 

                        I should have known it already –

                                is that nothing gets built quickly or easily.

Every good building is actually a fusion 

        of inspiration,

                compromise,

                        anguish,

                                and joy.

When vision and reality forge an alliance,

        something beautiful is created.

 

But first you have to wait a really long time

        and you have to raise the money.

These anticipatory activities,

        waiting and fund raising,

                belong to the creative process as well.

How we do them 

        has a lot to do

                with the final result.

 

Essayist and Unitarian Universalist minister Robert Fulghum

        once knew someone in his church

                who could get things done.

He could have funded and built a new church all by himself.

His name was Dugan and he got his style

        from his years as a tackle

                on his college football team.

Dugan "made his living as a heavy construction contractor,

        specializing in sewer systems and pipelines.

"He ran his life and business", Fulghum writes,

        "the way he played football –

                straight ahead up the middle,

                        full power,

                                nothing fancy."

 

At church, Fulghum remembers,

        "we found him kind and generous behind the façade.

His laughter kept us loose in tense moments,

        and his resources kept us in business 

                when we needed help.

Dugan's way was large,

        and he didn’t hold back 

                when it came to his part

                        in the life of the church.

If we had some trash to haul,

        he'd drive up in a four-ton dump truck.

He sent a road grader to move some gravel around,

        and to fetch a Christmas tree 

                he sent a diesel truck

                        hitched to a Low Boy trailer –

                                the kind used to transport bulldozers.

For Dugan there were very few of life's problems

        that could not be addressed with heavy equipment

                and a go-get-‘em attitude."

He also carried a brief case full of bundles of hundred dollar bills,

        and a .38 caliber pistol.

"Not to worry.

He explained that because his [construction] projects

        were often far from town

                and he had to hire a lot of temporary labor,

                        he made his payroll in cash.

He was bonded to carry as much as a half a million dollars.

And licensed to carry the gun to protect himself."

 

Dugan liked to attend the church board meetings,

        although given his distaste for discussion,

                deliberation and compromise,

                        the meetings often tried his patience.

Then one January evening,

        a problem came up that Dugan knew he could solve.

It had to do with the church driveway.

Potholes had developed on the entrance side, 

        and the driveway needed repaving.

But "on the exit side, 

        nearest the church school,

                the driveway was smooth,

                        encouraging a level of speed thought dangerous to children."

That side needed speed bumps.

 

"Three hours had drained away," Fulghum writes,

        "while every possible dimension of this driveway problem

                had been considered.

No solution in sight, the meeting fumbled on.

From his seat outside the board circle,

        Dugan raised his hand to make a proposal.

'Leave the potholes on the entrance side

        and dig potholes on the exit side.

Spray a little tar in them.

Call them 'speedholes.'

He could do it with a shovel 

        and a couple of cans of hot tar

                in a couple of hours.

Free."

 

Now, as anyone involved in a church already knows,

        no problem can be analyzed, 

                fixed and paid for by only one person.

Nothing in church ever happens that way.

And the board could not bring themselves

        to accept Dugan's offer,

                although they discussed it a long time.

Too long for Dugan.

"In exasperation, Dugan stood up,

        placed his briefcase on the table,

                and asked forcefully,

                        'What's this … church worth – the whole...thing,

                                buildings, land, everything –

                                        gimme a round figure.'

The church treasurer replied,

        'Oh, maybe three hundred thousand dollars.’

'Great,' said Dugan.

'I'm gonna buy [it]!'

And he opened his briefcase,

        laid his pistol aside,

                and began throwing out bundles of hundred-dollar bills

                        until he reached the established price."

The stunned board sat in silence

        as Dugan lectured them

                about how religion was too important

                        to waste their time trying to decide

                                what to do about potholes.

And when he was done,

        he packed up his money and his gun,

                "stomped off out the door,

                        shouting from down the hall,

'The...offer still stands.'"

 

Now all you canvassers are probably hoping 

        that there's a Dugan in our midst

                who can pay for the whole thing – 

                        and in cash, too.

We could use a few donors like him.

But Dugan wouldn't have much patience with us either,

        until he learned, 

                as he apparently did not learn in Robert Fulghum's church,

                        that anything worth doing

                                is something in which everyone participates.

 

Dugan thought that his church spent too much time 

        in meetings

                and not enough time on religion.

If they could just let him make all the decisions,

        he might have reasoned,

                they would all have more time 

                        to practice their faith.

What he didn't understand is that we practice our faith

        by making decisions together.

Everything good that comes 

        from a church like ours

                is the product of people working together.

Even when we build,

        we are creating something more than a building:

                we are building community.

Cooperation is our spiritual practice. 

 

This adventure we have undertaken –

        what we call "building for our future" –

                is something in which everyone can participate.

As we saw from the children's contribution earlier in the service,

        everyone has something to give 

                to bring this project to fulfillment.

And that is what it will take to succeed:

        the gifts of all the members and friends

                of this church.

                

We know what we need.

And it's a lot to ask.

But we believe that where our church is going –

        the future we are building together –

                is worth what we have to give.

 

When you give to our capital campaign,

        you are giving an essential part of yourself.

Many of you, 

        if you are like me,

                will need to budget your expenses 

                        in order to give what you want to give.

We do it because the church means that much to us.

We also do it because the future will need this church

        as much as we need it now.

Our sense of community extends beyond those we know

        and greet on Sunday mornings.

We have a commitment to those who come after us.

We want them to know

        we cared about what we left behind.

 

"Building for our future" 

        takes us beyond our immediate need for space–

                as pressing as it already is –

                        and sets us forth on the longer journey

                                of creating the community to come.

Like any creative process,

        it takes planning, 

                leadership,

                        and vision –

                                and also, patience,

                                        collaboration,

                                                and generosity.

But the result of all that effort

        is something to see.

 

This pulpit represents the shape of the future.

It is also stands for everything it takes 

        to make something that will last:

                appreciation for those who have gone before us,

                        imagination to create something beautiful,

                                skill to make it work,

                                        and willingness to change

                                                for the sake of what can be.

That is what it takes to build for our future.

If we want to end up with something we all love,

        we all need to give.

 

Very shortly you will learn about how far we have come

        and where we hope to go,

                with your help.

The future calls all of us

        to fulfill the promise.

We are on our way.

With your help, 

        we will go there together.

The story about Dugan comes from Maybe (Maybe Not): Second Thoughts from a Secret Life, by Robert Fulghum (New York: Ivy Books, 1993).

 

Copyright 2002, Rev. Judith E. Meyer

This text is for personal use only, and may not be copied

or distributed without the permission of the author.