A participatory sermon by the Reverend Diane Teichert
Paint Branch Unitarian Universalist Church
August 14, 2011

If, as Jacqueline Lewis says*, “our identities are formed by stories told to us, about us and around us” and that “individual and group identities are formed in holding environments, or containers” like congregations – then the stories we tell about our experiences here, of our church, our congregation, this Meeting House… not only shape the identity of Paint Branch Unitarian Universalist Church, they also shape our individual stories. 

The stories of our first impressions, why we returned, why we’ve stayed, how we know we belong here… the stories of how we’ve been inspired, challenged, grown, chastened, heartened… the stories of how we’ve become better people for our time here and helped the world to be just a bit better for others and the earth too. These stories we tell, about being here in this community, shape our lives and shape the community too.

This morning I’m going to tell some stories of my own and I’m going to invite you to tell yours. So that’s why I’ve called this a “participatory sermon.”  You will get to tell stories, too!

Let me tell you a story. It’s a story of first impressions; about the first time I saw this space. It was in late January 2009, the weekend of my interview with your search committee, for which I’d come down from the Boston area. They took me on a tour of the church, but the Meeting House was not set up like it is now, with chairs in neat rows, the pulpit on its platform in the front and the piano over there, with choir seats behind. 

No, it was set up as a homeless shelter! I have to admit that at first it wasn’t a great first impression. 

I wanted to see where I would be leading worship if you called me to be your minister! I wanted to stand behind the pulpit and look out at the empty chairs and feel what it might be like to preach here!  Instead, I looked in from the foyer, and all I saw was cots! 

But, when I learned why your sanctuary looked like a dormitory, how my first impression changed! It happened to have been the week of Warm Nights, when we welcome homeless people for dinner, evening conviviality, sleeping and breakfast the next morning, for an entire week. In the minutes it took to hear stories about how you sleep here overnight, bring and serve home-cooked meals, converse with the adults and/or play with their children, I was moved! I changed:  from self-centered to generous of spirit! That’s the kind of transformation that can happen here! I felt welcome, and wanted to return as the minister of a congregation that would serve the community like that! 

(By the way, next Sunday, a week from today, the sermon topic is “Homeless in Prince George’s” and the guest speakers will be our own Warm Nights coordinator, John Bartoli, and Laila Raizi from the organization that runs Warm Nights county-wide).

So, back to stories. 

What is one of your first impressions of this congregation, one that helped you want to return?

Some of you were new many decades ago, so remembering your first impressions will require a very good memory! And you might be remembering a different worship space – on the campus of the University of Maryland, in a low barrack-like building. 

Some of you will find your first impressions to be more recent, clearer memories. Or maybe you are new today and your first impressions are still forming. In any case, I invite you to remember one first impression, one that helped you feel welcome… and think about how would you tell that story…. 

(pause)

In a minute, but not quite yet, I will invite you to look for one person near you, in the same row as, in front of or behind you, someone with whom you do not share a household; and if you are new today or for any reason are not sure what to say or don’t want to say anything, let me suggest that you mention this to someone near you so that a trio can be formed, so that you can just listen. And feel free to form a trio for any other reason, too. But try to stay in your seats, yet be sure to lean in close if someone has trouble hearing. When the two or three of you have told your stories, raise your hands, so I’ll know when we can move on. If you have to move to a different chair to do this, please remain there at the end.

First let me tell you what I want to invite you to do. After the two or three of you introduce yourselves to each other, I want you to tell that story, share that memory. Not your whole life history, or even how long you have been attending, just that story of one first impression, one that helped you feel welcome. 

So, now, look for one person near you, or two if you prefer. 

I will sound the gong when it is time to start, and again when it is time to stop talking…when you hear it the second time, please take a moment to thank each other, and stay where you are. Gong.

 (allow for conversation time) Gong.

May I tell you another story? A story about how I know I belong here. I’ve never doubted it all along.  There are many reasons why I feel, and am, at home here. But one recent night I had an experience that spoke to me in no uncertain terms:  this is where I belong. 

First I have to explain that, though I really love being your minister, there is one part of my job that I truly dislike, put off, avoid and often mess up. Can you guess what it is? 

The one part that I truly dislike is the task of submitting my professional expenses for reimbursement!

That means:  keeping, finding, tallying and copying receipts for reimbursable purchases paid for by check, plastic and cash; correctly completing the Reimbursement Request Form, and submitting it all to the bookkeeper for payment by the treasurer.

So, guess what I was doing late on the night before the last day of the fiscal year, the last day for being reimbursed without messing up the treasurer’s year-end tallies? 

After facilitating an evening Adult Religious Exploration class, I holed up, with twelve months of receipts on my desk, in my office in the RE Building to do my most disliked task. I’d been at it for some time when what to my wondering eyes did appear right outside my floor-to-ceiling window… but the animal I dislike the most? 

A possum! (If you love possums, I apologize for this disparagement, but ever since the night more than twenty years ago that a huge one appeared in my headlights trapped between the car and the fence at the end of our driveway as I pulled in, I’ve disliked possums!)

Seeing this possum, on that night, combined with the fact that I’d already seen, in my first year as your minister, my long-time-from-childhood favorite animal –  a box turtle – rustling in the leaves outside that same window, was sure proof that I belonged here! To see my most disliked animal while doing my most disliked task on the last permissible night to be doing it, that said to me I am deeply connected to this place!

I invite you to remember one time or experience that has helped you feel at home here… not a first impression, but a subsequent experience when you realized that you wanted to keep coming. Our Worship Associate this morning told of such an experience, albeit his happened on his first visit. Maybe yours gave you a sense of connection with the people or the space, or a feeling that you belong. Or, if such an experience has not happened to you yet, what do you imagine it would be like? Either way, think about how you would tell that story…

(pause)

I invite you, in a moment, to reconnect with the person or people with whom you spoke before and share this story. If you are not sure what to say or don’t want to say anything, and you were with only one person last time, form a trio or foursome so that you can just listen. 

I will sound the gong to start the conversation and again when it is time to stop talking…when you hear it then, please take a moment to thank each other. 

(allow for conversation time)

Stories help us get to the heart of what is most important to us in life. Whether humorous or serious, a good story, well-crafted, can touch us deeply, awaken us to realizations we’d not had before, and render universal an individual’s experience. 

So, I asked myself, what does seeing the possum that night mean to me? Beyond reminding me how at home I feel here, did seeing it awaken an important realization? Or connect me to the spirit of life somehow? Is there something universal about my story that speaks to others?

As I ponder these questions, I think, well, it helped me laugh at myself that night. It helped me to accept this foible of mine, that I procrastinate on record keeping, even what will result in money in my pocket. Laughing at myself made me feel more generous toward myself, and more relaxed about the task at hand. 

I’m sure the copier cooperated because I was relaxed.

At a deeper level, it awakened in me a sense of connection to other living things. What is my connection to that possum?  Is there some spirit of life that we share? 

The seventh principle of Unitarian Universalism is that we affirm and promote the interconnected web of all existence of which we are a part – but, like many people, I go through a lot of the day not paying attention. Maybe that possum had been there on other nights and I didn’t notice. 

Maybe the universal aspect of my story is the serendipity. Some might say the arrival of the possum showed the hand of God or the Goddess, or that it was the universe reassuring me of my place in it, or my animal totem appearing to me. To me it is a mystery, but I take it as a sign, that if I pay attention to it, I will find greater and deeper meaning, and often direction, in life. How do you understand the serendipitous events in your life?

(pause)

I’m even starting to feel kind of fond of that possum! 

Stories can touch us and others deeply, awaken us to realizations we’d not had before, and render universal an individual’s experience. 

So, there may be aspects of the other people’s stories of connection or belonging here, which you have just heard, that ring true though it wasn’t your story. Think of one. What was a deeper meaning to the person who shared the story? Did it resonate with you? Why or why not? If not, are you sure it didn’t resonate? Ponder it a little more deeply and see if you can find a connection. 

This is a silent meditation question and I’m not planning for us to share our answers:  considering the other person’s story of being connected or at home here, how or where or why can or do you find yourself in it?  (allow for meditation time)

How would it feel to you to tell a few of these stories to someone you know who, to your knowledge, has never attended a service here, who you think might like it, but who you previously have been hesitant to invite? Think of someone, maybe someone different than yourself in some way:  differently abled, younger, older, lighter, darker, of the opposite gender or a different sexual identity, happier, sadder. Think of someone specific. 

If you shared your story and one or more of the ones you’ve heard with that person, would they convey something universal that your acquaintance might want in his or her own life too? (allow time) 

The stories we tell about ourselves shape our identities and help us each become who we are called to be. They have great power. Our individual stories, told here, become collective stories that shape the identity of our congregation and help us become who we are called to be. Storytelling is invitational. And it is motivational. 

Let’s continue to tell our stories to one another, going as deeply as we are able, to share the meaning of them for our lives. Our bonds will be strengthened. And when we share our stories of this place and people with others, it may become a place of welcome, a home, a Beloved Community, for them as well. 

Amen.

*The Reading was from The Power of Stories:  A guide for leading multi-racial and multicultural congregations, by Jacqueline Lewis, p. 5.