Podcast: Play in new window | Download
Marisol Caballero
October 6, 2013
The Unitarian Universalist Association has sold their historic Boston headquarters at 25 Beacon St. and has opted to move to the more modern, practical, and spacious digs of 24 Farnsworth. This decision to move has sparked little ambivalence, as UUs across the country either love the idea, believing that we are now able to truly walk our talk, denominationally; or are convinced that nothing must be sacred anymore, that the UUA Board of Trustees has sold us out. What does this move truly mean for us, here at First UU Church of Austin, and what does it mean for UUs everywhere?
Welcome words
By David C. Pohl
We come to this time and this place: To rediscover the wondrous gift of free religious community; To renew our faith in the Holiness, goodness, and beauty of life;
To reaffirm the way of the open mind and full heart; To rekindle the flame of memory and hope;
And to reclaim the vision of an earth made fair, with all her people one.
Story for all ages:
“The Farmer’s Legacy”
Once there was a farmer. He was very old and ill and knew he would soon die.
He had lived a good life and his only regret was that his three children fought all the time. None of them seemed interested in taking care of the large farm the old man had established. They were rather lazy. The farm was big enough for several farmhouses and produced enough food to easily provide for any families his children might someday start. The only reason the old farmer had worked so hard his entire life was to leave a legacy to his children so their life would be easier. Now that his life was near its end, he wanted to find some way to help them see what a precious thing it is to be able to work your own land and provide for your family. So he did.
One winter day, the old farmer called his children to his sick bed. “My children, I have accumulated great wealth.”
“Where is this great wealth?”, they asked.
“You have never seen it. It exists out, deep in the fields. That is where you will find your legacy.” A short time later, the farmer died.
His children grieved, because they loved their father. Their sadness brought them together and they stopped fighting. One day, they decided to go looking for their legacy.
“He said it is deep in the fields. It must be buried.”
So they dug and dug for days. They dug until they had dug up almost all the farmland, but they found nothing. One sibling said, “We have dug up all this land, but we haven’t found our legacy. We must have missed it and I am too tired to keep digging. Still, it is spring and time to plant crops. Since we have already dug up the earth, we might as well plant this field.” So they did.
Fall came and after harvesting their crops, they set to digging again, looking for their legacy. They dug and dug for days. They dug until, once again, they had dug up almost all the farmland, butthey found nothing. One sibling said, “We have dug up all this land, but we haven’t found our legacy. We must have missed it and I am too tired to keep digging. Still, it is spring and time to plant crops. Since we have already dug up the earth, we might as well plant as we did last year.” So they did.
Yet again, fall came and they harvested their crops. This year’s harvest was even bigger than the year’s before. After the harvest, they dug for their legacy and, not finding it again, decided to plant their crops. This continued for a few years. During that time, they got married and started families and they lived comfortable lives off the money from selling their crops. They grew strong from working in the fields and no longer were lazy. They were healthy and happy.
One spring/they all three realized that the rich land ofthe farm and being able to provide for themselves and their families was the true legacy their father left them.
They stopped digging for treasure and started working the farm, happy that their father had been wise enough to leave them this great gift. They decided that they would all share the land and take good care of it, so they could leave it to their children someday.
And so they did.
Reading
“Coming Home”
by Mary Oliver
When we’re driving, in the dark,
on the long road
to Provincetown, which lies empty
for miles, when we’re weary,
when the buildings
and the scrub pines lose
their familiar look,
I imagine us rising
from the speeding car,
I imagine us seeing
everything from another place – the top
of one of the pale dunes
or the deep and nameless
fields of the sea-
and what we see is the world
that cannot cherish us
but which we cherish,
and what we see is our life moving like that,
along the dark edges
of everything – the headlights
like lanterns
sweeping the blackness –
believing in a thousand
fragile and unprovable things,
looking out for sorrow,
slowing down for happiness,
making all the right turns
right down to the thumping
barriers to the sea,
the swirling waves,
the narrow streets, the houses,
the past, the future,
the doorway that belongs
to you and me.
Prayer/Meditation
By Amanda Poppei
This is the home that love made.
It is full of the love that the founders felt, when they planned out these walls and raised these beams above us.
This is the home that love made.
It is full of the love of all who have worshipped here; those who have celebrated and grieved here; the babies dedicated, couples married, and family members mourned here.
This is the home that love made.
It is full of the love of our children, as they learn and laugh together, and our youth, as they grow into their own sense of purpose and meaning.
This is the home that love made.
It is full ofthe love ofthe staff who have served it, full oftheir hopes for this congregation, their hard work and their acts of dedication.
This is the home that love made.
It is full of the love of the choir, the love made so clear in the voices Sunday morning.
This is the home that love made.
It is full of our love, the love of this community, despite our disagreements, the love that holds us together as a This is the home that love made. Can you feel May the love be with us always.
Amen.
Sermon
“Join What Move?”
So, I’ve just flown in from three weeks in Africa. I’ll spare you the jokes about my arms being tired, because in truth, jetlag seems to be serious business. All of me is tired. If I begin to speak gibberish, I’m counting on you all to remain calm and find me a pillow and a soft place to fall. Despite my fatigue, I can’t recall ever being happier to see all of your faces! Here’s what it took to get home from the tiny, rural Zambian village my Erin and I stayed in, visiting friends, for the last week on the Mother Continent:
Our hosts escorted us on a ten-minute hike to the roadside, where we attempted, for one hour, to flag down a ride. Yes, that’s right, we hitchhiked, which in Zambia, is also understood as hailing a cab because, if you drive a car, you make money on the side by giving people rides. After stiff negotiations, Erin and I scored a ride in the seatless back of a newspaper delivery van for ten-hour drive into the capital city for the night. The next morning, we headed to the airport in a more official version of a taxi and boarded a several-hour flight to Johannesburg, where we caught a ten-point-something-hour flight to Istanbul, and another ten-hour flight to John F. Kennedy airport in New York City. At JFK, we were so ecstatic to have reached the US after so much travel, that we gorged ourselves on familiar foods, found our gate, and more exhausted than ever before, fell asleep without realizing it and woke up 20 minutes after the plane departed. What later became known as “THE most expensive nap EVER,” led to our returning to Austin at midnight on the third day of near-continuous travel.
Turning the key in our front door was miraculous. This was my first trip outside the US, and no one had warned me that the quality of reading materials or the size of the movie selection on the plane matters not in such circumstances. The endless hours, lack of movement, and Turkish flight attendants who will appear out of nowhere to tell you to close the window shade if you so much as peak at sunshine from the darkness of the cabin all provoke a type of desperation in which dreams of growing closer and closer to a final destination called, “Home” are all that keep you from pulling out fists full of hair, your own or anyone else’s.
“Home” became this mythical place of safe familiarity, like the thought of returning to the womb. I closed my eyes, trying to block our yet another romantic comedy and a swift kick to the back of my chair, while picturing hugging my pets again, and simple pleasures, like cold, filtered water from the fridge and the vanilla and honey scented hand soap I have in our bathroom. I imagined habitual moments, like doing dishes and driving the car, as if they were events for which I had bought tickets for months ahead of time, and was eagerly awaiting. The thought of “Home” was the golden calf upon which this new faith was being built. It was the ideal upon which I was clinging to, its history and distant memory the only thing keeping me sane as I faced each dragging future hour.
The trip to Africa, itself, was the experience of my life, from which I can bet you’ll hear stories for many years, but what is relevant today, is the idea of wanting to preserve a memory of “Home” that can be returned to.
It isn’t long after becoming a Unitarian Universalist or growing up as a Unitarian Universalist, that someone learns that the headquarters of our Association of congregations, as well as a great deal of our denominational history, is in Boston, Massachusetts. And, typically, alongside that bit of understanding, comes the knowledge of the famous address: 25 Beacon Street. The first time I visited Boston and 25 Beacon St at age twenty-three, I felt as if I had arrived at the Motherland. The two old buildings, sitting right next to the Massachusetts State House, gave me goose bumps, as I thought about all of those who had passed through their doors and all that had happened within those walls that had helped to form this free faith that I love so much.
John Marsh characterized 25 Beacon St. as, “More than an office building, it has been our axis mundi, the imaginary center of our world, the portal between every day and mystical, the destination of religious pilgrimages and the repository for holy relics: including the writing desk of Thomas Starr King and a lock of hair of William Ellery Channing’s … there was another 25 Beacon Street before this one. When the American Unitarian Association moved into the first 25 Beacon Street headquarters in 1886 it was on the other side ofthe State House. When they moved the headquarters in 1927 they had enough pull with the Massachusetts legislature that a bill was passed to allow them to take their address with them: confusing people looking for nearby buildings for generations to follow. Its being out of normal numerical sequence adding to its allure as a portal into the extraordinary, like Platform 9 and 3/4 in Harry Potter’s Wizarding World.” We love our family home.
But today, October 6th, is what is to be known as, “Join the Move Sunday,” in which all UU congregations have been encouraged to talk about, garner support for, or at least rally together in coming to terms with, the upcoming move away from and selling of our denominational headquarters at 25 Beacon St. The reasons for this move are practical and sound and quite visionary, but human emotions are not always so tidy, and many UU’s, including myself, are experiencing pangs of sadness at the selling of our “family home.”
Anyone vaguely familiar with New England real estate is aware that the UUA has been sitting on a property goldmine in 25 Beacon for some time. Our denomination and many of its programs took a major hit during the recession and so, it’s no secret that the denomination could use the financial security that selling this historic property will bring. But, above the lure of cashing in on this investment we, as a denomination are faced with the wonderful dilemma that we are quickly outgrowing our current digs! A year ago, USA Today reported that UUism is growing quickly, especially in the South, while most other faith traditions have declining membership.We are experiencing the same problem here at First UU Church of Austin, where we’ve had well over 100 new members join in the past year and have dropped our attrition rate by 50% in the past two years! We, too, have struggled recently to find room on our campus to house the staff and programs required to sustain a dynamic community this size. In an effort to better serve the needs of current UU congregations as well as to better embody our principles as a liberal religious movement, the decision was made, by our UUA president and Board of Trustees, to purchase three floors of a large brick warehouse building at 24 Farnsworth St., located 1 mile away from Beacon Hill, but a world away from that neighborhood’s “old money” character.
Also, the new building will offer opportunities to become more welcoming, as the space will be more accommodating to groups of visitors and will finally allow our headquarters to become accessible to people of all physical abilities. The new space’s open floor plan will allow for greater collaboration between staff departments and the building’s structure will reduce the headquarters’ carbon footprint by as much as possible, by employing sustainable building practices.
Rob Malia, Director of Human Resources for the UUA and New Headquarters Design Team Lead promises that, “The new headquarters will honor our past while looking to the future, ensuring that we have the best tools and most collaborative space possible to serve you and your congregations.” As planned, the museum-quality, interactive, “Heritage and Vision Center” at 24 Farnsworth St., will help the visitor to:
- Root [them]selves in a rich history while looking forward to the future;
- Have a presence and a reach that is local, regional, national, and global; Deepen the dynamic relationship among the headquarters, congregations, and partner organizations; and
- Share our story in the larger context of cultural movements.
Listening to this here in Texas, many of us may wonder what all the hoopla is about and why we should care. As a member congregation of this association, the headquarters are our headquarters as much as anyone else’s and what happens in Boston is our business, too. The historic, beloved sites are our roots and a part of our story as much as anyone else’s. Also, as I mentioned before, it is no secret that we find ourselves facing a similar situation. Our ultimate decision to stay and build or to sell and move mayor may not mirror the one that our movement’s headquarters has made. Let’s pay attention.
UUA Executive Vice President Kathleen Montgomery recently reflected: “I dearly love 25 Beacon Street and rarely come into the building (as I have almost every day for thirty years) without reveling in the memories it contains and its stately elegance. Almost every room in it is embedded with stories that remind me of the people who have been in them, ones I know and care about and others who were gone long before my time. Lots of laughter, some tears, marriages in the chapel, endless meetings, important decisions, scheming and planning and watching change happen, watching the Association grow, build on the past, and become more clear about its mission.
Best memory: the era when the Massachusetts State House struggled with the issue of marriage equality and we hung huge signs facing the State House that said things like, “Civil Marriage is a Civil Right.” The demonstrators and the politicians couldn’t miss them.
I love all the memories and get sentimental thinking about them (well, okay, I get sentimental pretty easily). But you know what? It’s time to move on. That belief didn’t come easily or quickly to me but I grew into it with certainty.
We need a different kind of space that fits the time we find ourselves in. We need to unburden ourselves of buildings that are about the past and not about the present and the future. We need to acknowledge that bearing the enormous cost of bringing Beacon Hill buildings into the 20th century, forget the 21 st, would be foolish.
So we’ll take our memories with us as we move on-no one and no building can take them away. They’re ours. They’ll always be ours. Now it’s time to move to a new, fresh, innovative space and create new memories.”
Ultimately, this is the difficult decision that our elected President and Board of Trustees made on our behalf in order to better live into our shared Principles and Purposes. It was decided that the future of Unitarian Universalism should be more concerned with future development than enshrining the heroes and accomplishments of our past. I encourage you to consider searching, “Join the Move” online, learning more about, and donating to the efforts.
As this Movement and this congregation, in particular, continues to grow in the fertile ground of Austin, Texas, we will, no doubt look to this move with a curious mind, asking the questions, “What is the essence of this church community?,” “What will it mean for us to live more fully into our church’s mission?,” “Where might our children find evidence of our legacy, and how might they go about continuing its work?,” and, “How does our location and building reflect all of this?” Though these questions involve change, no matter how they are answered, and change is rough, I am excited to be a part of this community at such a time! For, as Rev. Lewis B. Fisher once said a century ago, “Universalists are often asked to tell where they stand. The only true answer … is that we do not stand at all, we move.”
Benediction
Be ours a religion which, like sunshine, goes everywhere; its temple, all space; its shrine, the good heart; its creed, all truth; its ritual, works of love; its profession of faith, divine living.
– Theodore Parker
Podcasts of sermons are also available for free on iTunes. You can find them here.
http://itunes.apple.com/podcast/first-unitarian-universalist/id372427776
