Ceremony of Native American Ceremony of Acknowledgement (Denise Davidoff, Marie Junaluska)

We acknowledge the First Nations - the Chickasaw, the Shawnee and the Cherokee - who occupied these lands for countless generations before the arrival of Europeans. Realizing that we are on Indian land requires us to accept responsibility for a painful history and present injustice. It helps us to achieve respect for the multi-faceted cultures and spiritual perspectives of North America's Indigenous Peoples. This we do for ourselves, for future generations and for the earth.

Lighting of the Chalice

Sanctifying Space

Opening Hymn: Here We Have Gathered

Far beyond the reach of history or even memory, fire has been a symbol of hearth and home. When we light a fire we create a center, the reach of which becomes the circle of our gathering. It makes a sacred place wherever we are, a home no matter how far we may be from our dwellings.

The Banner Parade
A procession of Unitarian Universalists from congregations, districts, and organizations displaying their symbolic banners, marching to music by Second Thoughts.

Hymn: Gather the Spirit

Story
An ancient Biblical story tells of when the children of Israel left bondage in Egypt. This legend from the Hebrew Scripture stands behind three thousand years of Jewish and Christian culture, and forms part of our rich Unitarian Universalist tapestry. But in a sense it is not ours so much as we are its. We do not own it as much as it owns us, its images and symbols are larger than any single definition.

In the story, the descendents of Jacob and Leah and Rachel wandered in a wilderness for forty years. Wherever they went they set up the Tabernacle, a tented temple. The wanderings of Israel were a prelude to finding their true home. And when they did, they built a great temple to replace the tent of meeting. But in oppression came again and again, and the temple fell not once but twice. And in the end, Israel again wandered in the wilderness. Again their faith went with them, not in a tent of meeting but in the synagogue. Wherever they would gather, the prayers could be said and the Holy One was held to be present.

Synagogue simply means "get-together" in Greek. It was these small, wandering communities that preserved Judaism when home and temple were obliterated. Arthur Waskow, rabbi and author, says "Only the... power not of rock but water, fluid and soft from moment to moment and yet irresistible over the long run - [can] survive."

The tent, fluid and soft and ready to move with wind and sun, is ultimately stronger than the stone temple. Any place people gather in "spirit and truth," can be open to the holy and the sacred. A treasured sanctuary, a living room, an open field, a church kitchen, a march through city streets, even the halls of government can be a place where holiness becomes apparent.

This evening, we seek the sacred place that is this place. In a week we shall be gone and it will be, for most people, just a convention center again. But for now, because we have come in "spirit and in truth," it will be known as a holy place. The banners evoke the ancient tent of meeting. The songs lift our hearts. The chalice and its flame ignite our minds.

Comrades and fellow pilgrims, the great mystery of faith, heard in voices spanning continents and centuries, is that human and divine share the universe. When we gather in spirit, the spirit is there. It calls us, and we call it. It forms us, and we form it. In the communion of the human we discover the spiritual, and in the longing for the spirit we find communion with each other.

Hymn: Fulfilling The Promise

This, then, is a holy place. And this is the tent of our meeting. The warmth of our breath offered in song rises like the legendary smoke of an ancient altar. The chalice burns with a memory of the sacred fire that once hallowed every ancient hearth and temple. And our eyes bespeak the inner flame that ancient disciples found on Pentecost, the indwelling spirit that still lights our minds and illuminates our way toward the surpassing truth that is the holy of holies.

Musical selection: the Mountain Quartet (23rd Psalm, by Bobby McFerrin)

Sanctifying Time

How many of you are here for the first time? Are you excited? The days ahead are almost quivering with possibility. How many are making a return visit? For them, the power of this week is the reunion. In either case, this is a special time, different, vivid and potent.

Long before Einstein said it, we all sensed that time moved at different speeds. A sundial in Virginia is inscribed: "Time is to slow for those who wait; to swift for those who fear; too long for those who grieve; too short for those who rejoice. But for those who live, Time is Eternity. Hours fly, flowers die, new days, new ways pass by. Love stays."

Time moves at the speed of souls. The moments of greatest power and faith are as holy as the places we consecrate. Time, like place, can be sacred, but only because we make it so.

And not only moments, but hours, days, months, even years, can frame a sacred reality. Personal holy times we call birthdays and anniversaries. We could remember them anytime, but somehow when we reach that repeating day, that first occasion comes back.

Communities have their sacred times as well, from congregations to nations. And each person in those communities can, in those times, transcend age and death itself. Some among us honor Christmas at least in part because of remembered moments of childhood. Many have thought on Memorial Day of those who perished in the suffering of war and felt them still moving in their hearts. And often those who have been here before, not in Nashville but in this tabernacle, have felt a communion across the years. From first timer to jaded veteran, the sound of "Rank by Rank" brings a rushing fullness that is more than size. There is more. It is a sacred time.

Sacred time compresses the years like a telescope, so that the distant past stands beside the present. We hear old voices and see vanished faces. The mind roars with the winds of memory and creates a chorus of recollection such that then and now are one song. The world awakes into its fullness, for this is the Eternity of those who truly live.

Musical selection: Olympia's Daughters

An ancient text attributed to Paul, and thought by some scholars to be composed by a woman, exhorts the struggling community of Christians to keep faith by remembering the example of their Jewish ancestors. In so doing, the author evokes the holiness of history; that it moves toward an end not merely in circles. She does this to strengthen those struggling to keep faith. Bernice Johnson Reagon, speaking today , puts it this way: "...practicing history could be the basis of believing. If I hold within myself the memory of the journey of my people, if I know that I am evidence of the success of that journey, then I can believe that I too will be able to move through the challenges I face on the path I walk with my life."

Those today stand in a line that stretches back into the mythic past and forward to an imagined future. Knowing that, believing that, how could one not keep faith? So, looking beyond the doctrinal limits of that vision, our Universalist hearts know that the moral and spiritual arc of the universe does indeed bend toward justice, toward wholeness, toward holiness. And we are along that arc as surely as Abraham, Miriam, Jesus, Servetus, Channing, Barton and Young. So we should take heart, take faith.

A Litany of History and Hope:

Now faith is the assurance of things hopes for, the conviction of things not seen. By it the women and men of old tolled and trod. Their lives sanctify their times, and we recall them here, for their footsteps still echo in our time.

All: By faith William Ellery Channing came out of Boston to Baltimore and spoke the true and lively word that planted our faith in the land. He sent us in search of our divine minds.

By faith Hosea Ballou went to Oxford and was anointed to preach the good news of perfect love. He sent us in search of our divine hearts.

All: By faith Abner Kneeland went unto jail, preferring that his tongue be free than his body. And likewise Henry Thoreau, who preferred a cell to compromise. They called us to seek integrity, for which no price is too high.

By faith, Joseph Buckminster went out to the poor of Boston, ordained by the congregations called the Benevolent Fraternity. In the quiet and forgotten streets he ministered with his own to the afflicted. His touch is still felt in Roxbury and Jamaica Plain where many hands take up his work in these latter days.

All: By faith Clara Barton went up from Oxford and lived the love she believed. The blood of battle and the pain of calamity would no longer go unsalved.

By faith Susan B. Anthony rose up out of Rochester to Seneca and Syracuse and Kansas. She reminded us that the seed of faith comes to fruit in the world beyond our many tents; the religious life faces out not in.

All: By faith Ethelred Brown left Jamaica and found his voice in Harlem. And Lewis Magee went to Chicago his heart to plant there. They struggled and suffered for a faith that did not have faith in them. They showed us that our beliefs are larger even than those who hold them, and worthy of us even when we are unworthy of them.

By faith Waitstill and Martha Sharp went into Prague to deliver the oppressed from death. Sent by those in freedom to lead them out of bondage, their journey lit the path for a fellowship of world service that endures and grows.

All: By faith our kindred fellowships were wed in Syracuse, liberal mind and liberal heart making a complete soul. We thank those whose vision was large enough to see what has yet to come true and yet surely must. May they know that we are their children and that our pride in them is more than abundant.

Today, by living faith, spirituality and integrity is being nourished by Campus Ministry in Maryland that links congregations to students and learning to living, that each may give the other joy and purpose, care and connection and find greater meaning in their lives.

Today, by living faith congregations have joined to create a new district in honor of Clara Barton, and some there have joined together to take the first steps toward the end of racism. Both city and village, new and old, met to respond to the crying need for justice even in the rural corners of the land.

By living faith they assembled in Knoxville and Oak Ridge and San Diego to celebrate and proclaim their faith together and in public. They overcame the habit of a silent faith, one that hid its light beneath the bushel.

The living faith thrives in Berkeley and Oakland and San Francisco. The congregations there have learned to call upon each other to worship, to lead, to comfort and to teach.

By living faith the faithful of Greenville, Moorehead City and New Bern North Carolina fed those scattered by great floods. And with others houses of worship they sought and found and gave strength to homeless migrant workers who lost more than any others, indeed all they had.

By living faith, congregations in Vermont stood up and stood out for "equity in human relations," challenging and strengthening those in seats of power, that today there is new hope with a new law that honors the lives of lesbian and gay citizens.

By living faith, comrades sow seed in Ontario. New spiritual life grows from Toronto to Hamilton to Kingston. In comradeship they work, so that each new community is like a lighthouse, guiding seekers however far away they are.

All: By living faith the chalices of a thousand congregations burn each day. Each is a beacon, inviting all to share in their vision and work. Each is a haven for those cast out or left out. Each is a promissory to the future, that life and truth and faith and love shall one day prevail; that one day earth shall be fair and all her people one.

Musical selection: the Mountain Quartet (Turn the World Around)

Sanctifying Life

Musical selection: Olympia's Daughters

A Covenant for This Assembly
"The Life that Maketh All things New," "Spirit of Life," "The Celebration of Life," "The Living Tradition." "Reverence for Life." Do you see a pattern here? As a hymn by Shelley Jackson Denham says, "we believe in life." We really like life. But what does it mean to believe in life?

Just as every place and time can be holy, but only by making it so; so every life can be holy, but only by making it so. Holiness, the thing that makes us reverent, is not automatic. If it were it wouldn't be notable. No, life is not holy because it exists. It becomes holy by design and desire.

A tale from the lore of the rabbis says that when the Holy One had finished creating everything, the first human looked up and said, "When you made the earth and the sky, you said it was good. When you made the land and the sea, you pronounced it good. And when you made the fish and the birds and the animals you declared they were all good. But when you created me, you did not say I was good." And the Holy One answered, "Because you are not finished. I gave you freedom so you could go and become yourself. When you have completed that task, then I shall call you good."

The power of life, freedom of choice, brings with it the responsibility to use that freedom well. When we do not, pain and misery result, evil if you will. But when we use that freedom to complete ourselves, we are good and even holy. Being fallible, every life will have blessings and blemishes. We hope that when our lives reach their end the ledger shall record more blessings than blemishes, more good than evil.

How do we do that? By reaching out. We are born from relationship, and as infants literally depend on it. With maturity comes the power to choose relationships, but never not to be in relationship. Often we choose a person for life partnership, to be our principal relationship. And even death does not end it all, as memory continues to connect us long after our actual lives have ended.

No wonder the great ceremonies of life from almost every faith mark birth, maturity, partnership, and death. Each marks a moment of change not only in self but in the web of relationships around us. And with those changes come the chance for wisdom and holiness, for self and others. But any moment, any chosen moment, any chosen moment in relationship, can sanctify us, bring holiness to life. This is such a moment. An old mountain song from long ago captures the sense of such moments.

In forming the circle of our lives, we set this place aside as holy. But this circle is no line of exclusion. Like the light from the chalice, it is a center not an edge. Our own sage, Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, "it is the highest emblem in the cipher of the world. St. Augustine described the nature of God as a circle whose center was everywhere and its circumference nowhere."

The circle of our kinship is no enclosure but an incantation of the great circle itself. Inside that circle, which is the true sacred circle, we set ourselves aside as holy. And once more we peer back into time to glimpse a hint of what that means.

Saints and seers from the vast deep of human history knew that those who would approach a holy place must make themselves holy as well. They purified themselves in water or sweat, took up new clothes, took up new names, pledged oaths, fasted and prayed. And they did these things for a good reason. Holiness is power, pure and simple. And as we come closer to it, every word and deed takes on a weight it did not have before. Unless we are ready, willing and able, the power we grasp will get the better of us. We need to make ourselves ready.

How? We covenant with each other. We pledge faith, as our own spiritual forebears have, calling ourselves to mutual account for the tasks we will undertake together. We do this because holy lives are powerful lives. And we must take care of our power and use it wisely. What we do here matters more than it does elsewhere. What we say here is remembered more here than elsewhere. What we think and feel is deeper more here than elsewhere.

Covenants have real power. It was a covenant with Abraham and Sarah the prompted the God of Israel to deliver their descendents from bondage. It was a covenant between the followers of Jesus that held the first Christians together through persecution. Promises make a difference.

Covenants are the seed of our most ancient congregations, and the bedrock of our belief in democracy and equality. In a sense, covenant is the germ of Unitarian Universalism. We speak of it in our purposes and principles. Fulfilling the Promise is an effort to discern our shared vision, Our Common Call, and the covenant we must have to move toward it. Journey Toward Wholeness and Welcoming Congregation are efforts to find our part in the struggle to dismantle racism and heterosexism. But even these essential tasks cannot be accomplished without a covenant.

More modestly, the work of a given congregation, even a given Sunday, cannot be completed without some agreement to work together. And so too, the work of this assembly. If we are in a sacred state, then we need to live in a sacred way. We need a covenant, a contract of good faith and good will for the journey we shall make together this week.

Good Unitarian Universalists do not impose covenants. We make them together. But as we cannot count off by 500 to form breakout groups to brainstorm, and because our time is so short, there is another way. Again, history opens a door. More than a century ago a Midwestern Unitarian clergyman, James Vila Blake, put words together that are still alive in many congregations. His words are: Love is the spirit of this church, and service its law. This is our great covenant: To dwell together in peace, To seek the truth in love, And to help one another. A hundred years later we can be forgiven if we paraphrase this a bit.

Love is the only creed we know. To serve the world our only law. To walk together in peace, to seek the truth in love, to help each other as we go. Love is the only creed we know.

A covenant is not the vision, not the goal, not our purposes, not even our principles. The sources of our faith are not here, and their distinct wisdom. Our craving for dignity, equity and justice are not part of this covenant. This covenant is simply a reminder of what we expect of each other in our time together here.

A covenant is not what we believe in, but who we believe in. It is not the last word but the first word. It is an invitation not a destination.

It is how we agree to be in relation with each other. It is how we hope to be a community.

The work we are facing is holy work, and this is a holy place because of it. That we may be holy in its midst we covenant together. I ask you now to meditate, even pray, a few moments on these words. (Pause)

What does it mean to walk together in peace? It means generosity of heart. It means listening as much as talking. Can we pledge a moment of silence for every word we speak. It means looking for the holy in the other at least as much as yourself. Can we pledge to say Peace inwardly, or some other gesture of regard for everyone we meet? It means owning our own limits and liabilities and respecting the same in others. Can we pledge modesty for our own magnificence and forgive the absence of it in others? It means owning your own anger and sorrow, and knowing it abides in others. Can we pledge to know our own and touch only gently that of others?

What does it mean to seek the truth in love? It means generosity of mind. It means a moment of learning for every moment of teaching. Can we pledge that? It means trust in the Truth, even when we don't like where it leads. Can we pledge to follow the truth when it's hard? It means esteeming the messenger even when the message is mistaken, and receiving truth even from disturbing prophets. Can we pledge to do that?

What does it mean to help one another? It means generosity of life. It means courtesy, especially when impassioned. Can we pledge that? It means patience especially when urgent. Can we pledge that? It means remembering that a moment of tenderness between strangers is as important as any resolution. It means remembering that every public act has within it a tenderness seeking to be honored. Can we pledge that?

I ask you now to make this pledge to each other, to make covenant between ourselves and with the spirit that called us.

"Love is the only creed we know. To serve the world our only law: to walk together in peace, to seek the truth in love, to help each other as we go. Love is the only creed we know."

Hymn: Love is the Only Creed We Know

Plenary Session

Denny Davidoff, gaveling lectern, says: I now call this General Assembly of the Unitarian Universalist Association to order.

Action on Rules of Procedure

Welcome New Congregations

Introductions: Planning Committee, Volunteer Committee

 

Closing Hymn: We Laugh, We Cry

Acknowledgements

A special thanks the Rev. W. Fredrick Wooden who authored this evening's program. Thanks also the Journey Toward Wholeness and Fulfilling the Promise Committees for their valuable input. Ruth Alatore and the Rev. Clark Olsen represented these groups on the subcommittee that coordinated this Opening Ceremony.

--The Planning Committee

Participants

Denise Davidoff, Moderator of the Unitarian Universalist Association
Marie Junaluska, Council of the Eastern Band of Cherokees
Chalice Lighters: Ralph Cazort, Joan Moore, Richard Bird, Leslie Dowell, Theresa Klapperich, Chris Wood, Molly Thomas, Sarah Thomas

Readers:

The Rev. Clark Olsen, Fulfilling the Promise Committee
Hope Johnson, Unitarian Universalist Congregation of the Palisades, Englewood, New Jersey
The Rev. Olivia Holmes, Director International Relations, Unitarian Universalist Association
The Rev. Peter Morales, Jefferson Unitarian Church, Golden, Colorado

Music:

Here We Have Gathered, words by Alicia S. Carpenter, music is a Genevan psalter, 1543
Gather The Spirit, words and music by Jim Scott
Fulfilling the Promise, words and music by Shelley Jackson Denham
Love is the Only Creed We Know, words by James Vila Blake (adapted), music by W. F. Wooden
We Laugh, We Cry, words and music by Shelley Jackson Denham Music

Performers:

Organist: Barbara Wagner, Music Director, Unitarian Universalist Church of Buffalo, New York
Second Thoughts: John Rakestraw, Michael Ray, Jason Shelton, Pete Huttlinger. Shelby Lewis
The Mountain Quartet: Shelley Jackson Denham, Ian Denham, Jane Warth, Tom Warth
Olympia's Daughters: Amy Becker, Rebecca Bryan, Jen Cherubini, Wendy Davis, Jessica Dienst, Jacquelyn Diggs, Lisa Doscher, Sue Fulton, Penny Gnesin, Peggy Hannis, Arlene Kappraff, Maria Manna, Renata Miller, Carmen Pinto, Fran Raleigh, Sue Stewart, Surita, Carol Todd, Mun Tyler, Debbie Weiler

Video:

The Mountain

2000 General Assembly Begins with Bluegrass Music, Inspiration and Energy

Formatted by Kasey Melski; photos by Holly Hendricks and Jone Johnson Lewis.