"Foundations of Faith"

In the words of my GPA satellite navigation system, You have arrived.

You have arrived… at a day that has been a long time in coming.

You have arrived… at a celebration of the completion of our building program.

You have arrived… at a milestone in the 83-year life of our community church in Santa Monica.

You have arrived… and it is my honor, as such a recent arrival myself, to share a few words with you this morning about that journey that brought us here, about how we’ve come this far in faith, and how we might breathe deeply into this moment, this time of arrival, and do three things. We will look back and say thank you. We will look inward and say thank goodness – say whew, thank goodness that’s over, and take a rest. And we will look forward and outward and say, what next?

I would like to begin our thank you section with a meditation on church buildings that was written by the Moderator of the Unitarian Universalist Association, Gini Courter. Have any of you met Gini? She is as smart and funny and down to earth as they come. She is the highest level volunteer leader we have in our Association of Congregations, and she runs the business side of our annual business meeting at General Assembly with pride and joy every year.

In January 2005, Gini was invited to speak at the dedication of the Unitarian Fellowship of Raleigh, North Carolina. I will read her words as if they were a letter signed, sealed, and delivered to us here, because that is how I first heard them.

Here is what she said…

You must forgive me, writes Gini,

because I was not here when someone pondered aloud what others had been wondering and wonderment became public discussion. I wasn’t in the social hall or meeting rooms when some small group of people realized this was a worthy discussion, a spiritual discussion, when the possibility seemed more close, more real…. I was not here as the discussion continued…as the vision took firm root in some hearts, but not in others as is too often the way of vision.

I was not here as the possibility took on mass and inertia of its own, as members and friends and staff jotted notes, wrote newsletter articles, researched, called UUA headquarters for information…sent emails, created forecasts and budgets, held hearings and meetings, formulated a plan… as you debated and cajoled, as you listened and listened harder, discussed and argued and exclaimed and laughed and wept and stood your ground and compromised and voted to set up committees, interview architects, and hire a builder. I was not waiting at home – patiently, most of the time—for my partner or parent to come home from yet another building committee meeting. I was not here when you struggled mightily to live our principles…when you paid close attention to the inherent worth and dignity of all who passed within these walls, and somehow it simply was not enough.

And you must forgive me for I was elsewhere when you sat at home by yourself or with your spouse or partner, children, parents, or friends talking frankly about how much financial support you could provide, when you chose to cut back on Starbucks or make your own lunch more often or work extra hours every week so you could invest in this home for your faith community. I didn’t … chose building materials…or drive by just to see how things were going…I wasn’t here, but you were.

Thank you for your care, for your determination, for your faithfulness. Anyone who knows churches, anyone who knows buildings, knows that this was not built by the faint of heart.

Here ends Gini’s preaching. If I could have said it better, I would have, my spiritual friends. Because I wasn’t here when this building program took root and took shape. As the Joshua to Judith’s Moses, I’m coming in at the last bit of final touches and picking up from the strongest of firm foundations. And because you were – because you were there – that is why we can now celebrate all you have achieved.

With Gini’s words in mind, with your own memories of all that this building program has asked of each of you, I ask you now to pause for a moment in the embrace of that great gratitude. To pause and rest and call to mind all those who walked with this congregation on the way to this goal. Many of these faces are with us still, but others have moved on, and I think especially of Judith Meyer, who worked mightily with you for this building program but did not make it to the promised land. Think of those who came before us in the life of this congregation, who cut the stones, who laid the foundation, who built the community we find rest and renewal with today. Pause and rest in the celebration of how far we have come, on the foundations of faith we inherited, that we are still building on.

Pause and rest, and join me in saying: whew. Thank goodness that’s over.

And as we move into the third part of our time together, I call to mind the reading I shared this morning from Bill Shore’s slim book, The Cathedral Within. Bill Shore has been a political advisor and social entrepreneur since 1984, when he founded a hunger relief organization called Share our Strength in response to the Ethiopian famine. I share his words with you this morning not to suggest that the new Forbes Hall is any match for the Milan Cathedral. I mean, I know the women’s bathrooms are nice, but they aren’t that nice. Nor was my goal to draw your attention to a building program that went on even longer than our own – at least 485 years longer, in fact.

What brought Shore’s work to mind was his conviction that many of the things worth building in our lives cannot be built without a foundation of inspiration and faith – that these are not, as he writes, “by products or fringe benefits of [the] work. Rather, [inspiration and faith are] the core purpose, the essential, uncompromisable ingredient of the entire architecture and design.”

The same elements appeared in Catherine’s story for all ages. The difference between the three workers was not in their skills in stone-cutting, nor their commitment to doing hard work. The difference was what inspired and motivated them to work hard. The first stone-cutter, you recall, was motivated by obedience alone. He found the work “boring and hard” but he “did what he was told.” The second stone-cutter was motivated by duty alone. He showed up for work every day because it allowed him to do something else that was important to him: feed and clothe his family. And finally, when the traveler came to the third stone-cutter, he found a person who approached a familiar difficult task with a peculiar sense of purpose and meaning. The third stone-cutter worked with enthusiasm and excitement not because his stones were lighter, not because his tools were sharper and his skills more refined. Instead, he understood at his core that he was contributing to something larger than himself. When he said, I’m building a cathedral, his eyes lit up. His steps were glad. He knew in his heart and soul this was a project worthy of his spirit and his life energy.

My spiritual friends, when a traveler comes to you, and sees you at work in your vocations, at your computer screens, in your cars, at your desks at school, sees you working here in board meetings, committee meetings, in the choir, at the homeless shelter, at the foodbank, at the art wall, teaching our children, when the traveler asks you, what are you building, how will you answer?

In 1927, when this congregation was first gathered under the leadership of Rev. James MacDonald, the reverend wrote a letter addressed to whom it may concern. In that letter he wrote of a new little church that was coming together so that women and men could gather in what he called “common devotion to moral and spiritual ideas and purposes, which may be indicated by the simple watchwords: Freedom, Truth, Character, Fellowship, Service.” (Letter included in 70th Anniversary Commemorative Booklet, page 30)

What were you building, Rev. MacDonald? He and his little church on 18th and Arizona knew what they were building, and that made the hard work of founding the church a glad task. They were building a place for Freedom, Truth, Character, Fellowship and Service.

These are the words of the third kind of stone-cutter. They call to mind values worth building for, worthy of the devotion of our spirits and our life energy, and worthy of sharing with a wider community, with our neighbors here in Santa Monica, with the people of the Westside. With the people who visit our church campus every day of the week for 12 step recovery programs, people who are struggling to turn their lives around, to return to their own firm foundations of inspiration and faith.

Perhaps Rev. MacDonald’s words are not the same words we would use today. Perhaps those words would include love, service, compassion, peace, hope, transformation. Or perhaps not. I don’t know yet.

What are you building? What are we building? What next, my spiritual friends?

After the arrival, after the celebration, after the rest I know we need after so much change and excitement, after all these things there is a time coming when we will begin to talk about that very question. Perhaps we will use words like mission, vocation, and witness. Perhaps we will use words like justice, beloved community, and reconciliation.

Some of this conversation will take place at the workshop I mentioned earlier this morning, the Start Up Ministry workshop taking place on Friday, October 22. I hope you’ll be there for that conversation.

I don’t know yet what words will we use. But I know for sure we are building on a strong foundation, a foundation of inspiration and faith that makes so much possible.

Today we celebrate and say thank you.
Today we pause and rest and say thank goodness we’re done with that.
Today we look up and look out and say what next? What are we building, together?

Today we dedicate and rededicate our buildings and ourselves to our highest purposes, to our deepest values, and to service to one another and the wider world.

We have arrived.

May it be so.