Step Into Your SkinRev. Mark Stringer First Unitarian Church of Des Moines 2/24/02
Meditation for 2/24/02Life of our shared life, Source of human good,
We welcome this moment This pause in the busyness of our lives This time for reflection and renewal This time to settle into our bodies To quiet the chatter of our minds To rediscover the calm so easily forgotten amidst the storms of our living
We welcome this hour This time to be together, This time to be reminded that no matter how alone we feel There are others who journey with us on this earth There are others who understand our pain and disappointment There are others who share our joy and our delight There are others who are always nearby, Waiting to be heard; waiting to be seen Waiting to be embraced as fellow travelers.
We welcome this morning The rising of the sun And its promise of a new day, a new start, Another opportunity to forgive those who may have wronged us Another opportunity to forgive ourselves Another opportunity to forge ahead into the unknown Embracing this life that we share.
We welcome this moment. We welcome this day. We welcome this life. Amen.
Reading (from Judith Glass) Why are you waiting to begin your life? Do you think the world must care And come soliciting? Listen to the knocking at the door of your own heart It is only faint because you have not answered You have fooled yourself with preparations Time left laughing while you considered possibilities Wake up You have slept long enough Wake up Tomorrow may be too late When you finally dare open the door Your life will begin arriving Cautiously at first Unbelieving that the gate So long locked against the tide Has finally been opened Then with swells of neglected dreams Then with waves of joyful revelation The sea will follow You will be swept by the full and magnificent tides Of your own longing That no one else can give you That no one else can claim.
SermonWhile living in New York City several years ago, I had the opportunity to sing in a Gregorian chant choir at an Episcopal church on Staten Island. A friend of mine from college, a very talented musician, was the director and he encouraged me to make the weekly trek on the ferry to join his volunteer group. Though I wasn’t being paid, I treated my participation at the church as mercenary work. I was clearly not a “member”; I was just a singer accepting the opportunity to do some singing. Still, I was intrigued by much of what I witnessed in that beautiful old church that stood across the water from Manhattan. I soaked up everything.
One Sunday, during the church’s annual pledge drive, there was a slot in the service for a pulpit editorial to be delivered by a lay member of the congregation. In essence, this person’s assignment was not all that different from what David Ketcher did today, and what Elaine Rockwell, Carol Henderson, and Ron Bowerman did earlier this month. The speaker had, no doubt, been asked to stand up in front of his fellow church members and to describe the significance of the church in his life while encouraging others to consider how important the church has been in their lives as well. The thought behind this approach to fund-raising, of course, is to remind those in attendance that the church needs financial support in order to effectively carry out its mission and to continue to grow and develop into the kind of place that the members hope it can be.
The chosen speaker that morning was a well-dressed middle aged man who strode to the pulpit with what seemed to be a true sense of urgency. Before I tell you what he said, though, you probably need to know that at that time in my life, I was dedicated to dissecting all things I heard in church, believing that I should be suspicious of any statement spoken from a pulpit. I don’t know where my suspicion came from exactly, but it was there all the same.
(By the way, now that I am a minister, I have been forced me to re-think my commitment to this kind of critique, mostly for the sake of self-preservation. After all, these days the sermons I pick apart are almost always my own.)
The chosen speaker that morning told of how the church had been there for him in times of distress and uncertainty, how the weekly services buoyed his spirit and challenged him to be a better human being, and how important it was that the church receive financial support so that it would be there for others. Even though I had no intention of making a pledge (in fact, I would soon leave the church in pursuit of a religious community where dogma did not play such a central role), I was moved by his words. I could feel the sincerity with which he spoke. I believed that the community had been there for him, and that it was important that people be encouraged to stretch themselves in their giving to the church.
And then, his message took a turn that I suppose I had cynically expected but that was still disappointing to me. He shared his discovery that the amount of money he had been giving to the church each year seemed to be directly linked to the level of his happiness. When he had been stingy with his pledge, he confessed, his life had gotten messy. However, the more he gave, it seemed, the better things got. He talked about the past year in particular, when he had increased his pledge by a significant amount, an amount that he couldn’t possibly afford, and then, lo and behold, he got a promotion at work that brought with it a sizeable increase in pay. Now he was driving a new car and giving even more to the church. He confessed that he knew it sounded crazy, but it really was true, and he was happy to have an opportunity to share his experiences.
I was disappointed because this seemingly reasonable fellow had turned a moving testimonial for the church into a message not unlike what might be found in an infomercial for some wonderful investment opportunity, one that could be called “Pledge-a-lot”. Forget the stock market! Stop buying lottery tickets. Just follow my lead. Give to your church and see your bank account grow. You too can have your year-long supply of the good life if only you pony up enough cash. (Investment not guaranteed; results may vary.)
Well, that testimonial has stayed with me. So much so that as I pondered what to say this morning to kick off this year’s canvass, the Staten Island spokesperson for increased giving quickly came to mind. I want to be sure not to imply that a generous pledge to the church will lead to a promotion at work, or to increased financial wealth. At the same time, however, I do believe it is important to acknowledge that the quality of our relationship to the church is a product of our generosity…our generosity in time, spirit, and money.
When I first joined a UU church, no one approached me about pledging, about making a regular, recordable contribution to the operating fund of the church. I suppose the membership committee didn’t want to scare me away with talk of money. So, in my ignorance, each week during the service, I would throw five dollars or so into the basket and I figured I was doing my share. When the time came for me to participate in my first congregational meeting, I was told I couldn’t vote because I hadn’t been giving any money to the church. How could this be? In order to vote, I was instructed, a member must have given a minimum amount that year equal to what it cost the church to have him as a member…at the time, around 50 dollars…these days closer to 100 dollars. Though I knew I had given more than that over the past few months, I pulled out my checkbook and made a contribution on the spot that allowed me to vote. Once I knew what was expected of me, I found it easy to comply. In fact, I wanted to be told what I should be giving.
A few months later I moved to Chicago where I joined another UU church. That spring, the church conducted what is known as a person-to-person canvass. A member of the church, a jovial fellow named Jim who I knew mostly because he often played guitar during services, called me to set up a visit to my apartment, where I would have the opportunity to fill out a pledge card for the coming year. Knowing that I would be entering seminary in the fall, and taking out significant student loans to pay for it all, I talked it over with Susan and decided on a rather conservative pledge. Jim arrived at my door disheveled…a little out of sorts. He said he had been out canvassing others that day…quite a task in a city like Chicago where you can be in your car for 20 minutes just to go twenty blocks. I thought to myself, “Wow, what a thankless job!” Susan and I invited him in, offered him something to drink, and before we knew it, he had our pledge card out. He said, “What are you thinking of giving to the church this year?” I looked at Susan and said somewhat embarrassed, “Well, money’s kind of tight, so we were thinking $300.” Without batting an eye, Jim said, “You know, when I first joined the church I figured I could give at least ten dollars a week. After all, I was spending at least that much for beer. Can you afford to give at least 10 dollars a week?”
Again, I looked at Susan and we both knew the answer. Of course we could. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I think we just needed someone to ask us to do so. Jim had the guts to do it and I was glad that he did. The next Sunday I walked into church differently because I knew I was stretching myself. Sure I still wasn’t giving even a small percentage of what others in that community were contributing, nor was I giving as much as I one day would, but I was taking a step toward a deeper commitment to my church, the place where week after week I was reminded to appreciate and celebrate my life and to give of myself to others. That year, I didn’t get a promotion, and I didn’t buy a new car. School was tough, my marriage hit a few rough spots, and money still was tight. Increasing my giving did not secure a carefree existence. But I did grow my relationship to the church. I began to take some ownership of the place that I had been visiting on Sundays, a place where each week I was encouraged to consider my life as something other than a commodity. I began to recognize that giving to the church was a way to acknowledge its significance in my life, and in turn, the significance of my life.
The next year, I volunteered to be one of the canvassers, one of the people who paid visits to members of the church at pledge time, a task I continued every year I was a member. Jim had given me a gift by asking me to contribute more than I had planned. His request that I take my membership at least as seriously as he had when he joined had encouraged me to think about my participation at the church as more than a matter of happenstance. As I stretched myself in my giving, and asked others to do the same, I found that I was making my values real. I was stepping into my life.
The title of this morning’s sermon --“Step into Your Skin”--was borrowed from a song by David Wilcox. The lyrics read:
“Take your situation, or your circumstances Put it on you like its made to fit you right Take your friends and family, take the mile around you Take the time that’s left and step inside your life Slip it like a glove around you Don’t you miss this love that found you Look at all that’s real.
Climb in, wear it like a suit around your heart You’ve been thinking you could not be where you are Every morning, don’t be thinking where you might have been Every morning, shake it out and step into your skin.”
I think this is a great message for a pledge drive, a time when each of us is encouraged to “step into our skin,” to affirm not only this church, but the fact that we are participants in it. This is not just a time of collecting money. It is a time when each of us is asked to carefully examine our values, to review and renew our commitments to each other and to this world that we share.
A pledge drive is also a time when we may be encouraged to give until it hurts. As the saying goes, no pain, no gain. But I’d like to put a different spin on that approach. I think it would be better for us not to give until it hurts. Supporting our church, making commitments to the values we claim to hold, in effect stepping into our skin, should not be something that causes pain, it should be a cause for celebration. So instead of giving until it hurts, I suggest that this year each of us should give until it feels good. This Saturday at the annual canvass dinner when you are asked to fill out a pledge card for next year, think of your pledge not according to what the church needs, or what percentage the budget might increase. I encourage you to determine your pledge based upon your need to give…your need to make your commitment to this church real…your need to make your presence in this community more than just a token offering here and there, more than just a trade of money for services rendered. I encourage you to think of generosity toward the church as a way of invigorating your commitment to this community. The reward that comes from increased commitment to the church will be different for each of us. But I do believe that if we base our contributions according to our need to give, we will more effectively honor the journey of our lives that brought us here in the first place, and we will more effectively “step into our skin”…personally and collectively…a great place to be as we continue our travels together through the grand adventure that is our living.
Closing Words (Fra Giovanni Giocondo) The
gloom of the world is but a shadow. Is joy. There is a radiance and glory in the darkness, Could we but see, And to see, we only have to look. I beseech you to look.
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