Saying Goodbye” The Rev. Sue Spencer UU Congregation of ...

“Saying Goodbye”
The Rev. Sue Spencer
UU Congregation of Danbury

June 13, 2010

On August 3, 2008, I got up in the wee hours of the morning on Cape Cod, and made the
four-hour drive to Danbury. My aim was to get to the Ridge in time to attend your
Sunday Service, my first day “on the job” as your interim.

Traffic was light at that hour, and I did pull into the parking lot just before 10 o’clock. I
can still picture Scot Fritz at the greeter’s table, with Marie Dupree standing nearby.
Both of them gave me a warm welcome.

I remember many others from that day, too. Susan Shaner was in the pulpit, Dan Brodax
sang, Carl Tichler was at the piano, as he is today. Gary Winn, if I remember correctly,
was the welcomer. He said he’d heard that the Interim Minister was arriving shortly, but
that he didn’t know her name. A few minutes later, when he invited newcomers to stand
up and introduce themselves, I did so – and was greeted with a roar of friendly laughter.

At some point, we were invited to turn to our neighbors and greet them. As it happens,
Joanne Wells and Jill Miller were sitting right behind me. When I shook their hands,
they invited me to the Trellis for lunch.

All in all, I felt very much welcomed that day. Over the course of time, I learned that this
is one of your great strengths as a congregation. Even back then, I sensed that the
welcome I received was not due to my position as interim. It’s just, well, the way you
treat folks around here. No one is likely to remain a stranger at UUCD, unless that’s the
way they want it.

*****

Now, almost two years later, it’s time to say goodbye. That’s the way it is with interims.
We come to a congregation, we stay for a year or two, and then move on. And everyone,
from the beginning, knows that’s what’s going to happen. It’s said that when interim
ministers come, we’re already “pre-fired.” We hope that when we leave, the
congregation will be excited about its future, and ready to embrace a new minister.

If that’s the criterion for success, I think our time together has been fruitful. On April 18,
when I got the news that you had unanimously elected Barbara Fast as your new minister,
I felt a surge of joy. Jean Bowen and Barbara telephoned me from the Ridge while the
celebration was still going on, and the excitement and jubilation in the background were
unmistakable.

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And so I go, excited for you and your future. But that doesn’t mean leave-taking is easy.
Many have told me that you’ll miss me – and I can say, from the heart, that I’ll miss you,
too! I’ve been catching myself feeling weepy these last few weeks.

Of course, my departure will mean different things for different people. For some who
have joined the congregation in the last two years, I may be your “minister of record”
here, and my leaving may be something of a wrench. For those who’ve seen ministers
come and go, my leaving may be a matter of indifference for some. And no doubt there
are at least a few for whom it is a welcome event – “Thank God that’s over!”

*****

What is a farewell sermon for? Every leave-taking is, in its own way, a little death. Even
if we see each other again, it will be in other places, and in different capacities. Unless
you should happen to land in another of my interim congregations, I will never again be
your minister. Together, over the next couple of weeks, we must die to this relationship.

With that in mind, it occurs to me that a farewell sermon has similar purposes to the last
words of a dying person. The first purpose is – to say goodbye. This is so obvious that
to mention it may sound stupid. “Well, duh!” But sometimes, it’s the obvious that gets
forgotten.

John Hughes, an English psychologist, suggests that two of the most important things we
ever learn in life, are how to say hello, and how to say goodbye. He goes on to suggest
that nearly all emotional disturbance is caused by the failure to learn one or the other.

Some peoples’ lives are marked forever, because no one greeted them wholeheartedly
when they were born. Others suffer because they’ve never learned to let go of one phase
of their lives, in order to welcome another. They haven’t learned to say “goodbye” to
some folks so that they can say “hello” to others.

Church consultants talk about how important it is in congregational life to have effective
and complete “goodbyes.” Incomplete goodbyes leave both minister and congregation in
limbo. As a result, unresolved feelings and issues spill over into the next ministry.

All the great spiritual traditions caution against hanging on when it’s time to move on.
The Buddha taught that clinging is at the root of all needless suffering. People expect
permanence, when reality is nothing but flux and change.

In the same vein, Jesus of Nazareth compared human beings to seeds, which don’t realize
their potential until they let go: “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it
remains alone.” But when the husk falls away, and the seed dies to itself – then it
becomes fruitful.

Judith Viorst incorporates this ancient wisdom in her book Necessary Losses:

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The road to human development is paved with renunciation. Throughout our life
we grow by giving up. We give up some of our deepest attachments to others.
We give up certain cherished parts of ourselves. We must confront in the dreams
we dream, as well as in our intimate relationships, all that we never will have and
never will be. Passionate investment leaves us vulnerable to loss. And
sometimes, no matter how clever we are, we must lose.

*****

A second purpose of a farewell sermon is to offer some parting thoughts – perhaps even
some advice, which one hopes will be helpful. Since interim ministers are hired to be
consultants, we’re already in the advice-giving business - so you’ve already heard a lot
from me in this department. Nevertheless, this is my last chance, so here goes:

First, I urge you to root out every trace of scarcity thinking! While here, I’ve noticed
something that another of your interim ministers also picked up on, some 15 years ago.
Here’s what Linda Hart said in her final report to you:

A fruitful area of exploration is congregational self-esteem. There’s a sense
hovering around in the background that the [congregation] here has to take what it
can get, that somehow we don’t deserve the best …There is a belief that we must
always just take what we can get, not expect too much, make do with what we
have because there’s not much else…

I would encourage you to explore this, to ask yourselves if this is accurate. And if it is,
I’d encourage you to get over it! You really do deserve the very best. As Marianne
Williamson has written, “Your playing small doesn’t serve the world.” Rather, we serve
the world by making “manifest the glory…that is within us.”

Second – and this is related to the first - I’d encourage you to make a conscious decision
about what size you want to be. Do you want to stay a congregation of 150, or do you
want to grow into a new way of being-in-the-world?

To help in thinking about this, a Growth Team chaired by Susan Shaner has been
working diligently all spring. It’s moving toward making some recommendations on
where to go next, and you’ll be hearing from them in the fall.

In the past two years, you have grown past the membership plateau of 150-members –
thanks to the diligent work of the Membership Committee and others. As I see it, there’s
no reason on earth you can’t keep that up, working as partners with your new minister.
But for long term growth and vitality, you need to make a conscious decision – a decision
not to “play small.”

Many UUCD leaders have been thinking about this for a while. In my early interviews
with many of them, the topic of growth was a common thread. It was summed up in this

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comment: “This is supposed to be the UU Congregation of Danbury – not the UU Social
Club of Danbury.”

It’s not that fellowship and social activities aren’t important. They’re essential to
community, in my humble opinion. But to grow, both in numbers and in spirit, you must
decide that Unitarian Universalist faith is too good to keep to yourselves. It’s meant to be
shared with others, who may be seeking the kind of spiritual home you offer. If that
sounds like evangelism – well, I say “Hallelujah!”

What “good news” can you bring to the hungry, the oppressed, the exploited? What can
you do to bind up the brokenhearted, and to break down the walls that imprison body,
mind, and spirit? What hospitality can you offer those who are turned away from other
places?

The third thing I’d like to encourage you to do, is to continue strong in your care for one
another. This is something I’ve noticed about you that is truly impressive.

Sometimes there’s a temptation, when a new minister arrives, to gasp with relief, saying:
“At last! She’s here, and we’re off the hook.” I hope you won’t succumb to that
temptation. A vibrant congregation shares the ministry, including pastoral care.
Expecting the minister to do it all for you is practically a guarantee that you won’t grow.

There’s one final thing I’d like to raise up, and that’s Sunday attendance. It’s true that we
don’t take attendance here. We don’t give out pins for perfect attendance, nor do we
exact a penalty for not coming. But when you don’t show up, the congregation suffers!

UUCD is, first and foremost, a worshipping community. The Sunday Service is at the
heart of your life together. It’s what distinguishes you from social clubs and civic
organizations, worthy as those are. When you’re not here on Sunday, your absence is
felt, in a very palpable way. Without your presence, UUCD cannot be all it was meant to
be.

I would encourage you not to approach the services here as a consumer would. Don’t
make the decision to come based on whether or not the sermon topic personally interests
you, or on what you’ll be able to “get out of the service.” Come because you bring
unique gifts, and because your presence will make a difference to someone else.

*****

But enough of advice. The most important purpose of a farewell sermon is to tell you
that I love you! I think maybe you already know that - but best to say it out loud.

Some veteran interim ministers caution new interims against falling in love with the
congregations they serve. In this view, we’re not supposed to form deep attachments,
because we’ll be leaving soon. But speaking personally, I don’t know how to do ministry
without falling in love with the people I’m working with.

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Over these last two years, we’ve worshipped together, celebrated together, and sung
together. We’ve laughed, and struggled, and mourned together.

We’ve buried beloved members, rejoiced in the marriages of others, and welcomed
children into the world. And together we’ve worked to strengthen this congregation,
which can make such a difference in the world. As Goldie says, in “Fiddler on the Roof,”
if that’s not love, what is?

In doing interim ministry, I’ve come to understand these words of Mary Oliver:

To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:

To love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it.

And, when the time comes to let it go,
To let it go.

Good bye.
I’ll miss you.
I love you.

Even if our paths never cross again, please know that I’ll never forget you. Even if I
never see you again, I’ll hold you in my heart – wishing you nothing but the very best. I
said it in an early sermon, and I still believe it: Your “glory days” are still ahead of you.

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MEDITATION

May the blessing of light be upon you,
light without and light within.

May the blessed sunlight shine upon you and warm your heart,
till it glows like a great peat fire,

so that the stranger may come and be warmed,
as well as the friend.

And may the light shine out of the eyes of you,
like a candle set in the windows of a house,
bidding the wanderer to come in out of the storm.

And may the blessing of the rain be upon you,
the soft, sweet rain.

May it fall upon your spirit
so that all the little flowers may spring up,
and shed your sweetness on the air.

And may the blessing of the great rains be on you;
may they beat upon your spirit
and wash it fair and clean,
and leave there many a shining pool
where the blue of heaven shines,
and sometimes a star.

And may the blessing of the earth be on you,
the great round earth.

May you ever have a kindly greeting for people you pass
as you’re going along the road.

And now may Life bless you,
and bless you kindly.