Entries are posted in reverse chronological order.Monday, June 26
Monday, my last day at General Assembly. For once, I beat my sister out of the hotel. I grabbed a couple of bagels on the walk to the convention center, and got there just in time for the start of the first workshop I wanted to attend. The workshop was a presentation by the UU Minister's Association (UUMA) and the Ministerial Fellowship Committee (MFC) on their "vision" for a new method of credentialling UU ministers.Sunday, June 25Members of the MFC and UUMA did a quick presentation on their vision. They want all new ministers to meet the same basic requirements, but then have ministers specialize in one of three categories (parish, community, religious education) after three years working as a minister. Most of the session got devoted to audience questions and reactions, and I didn't hear much wholehearted support for this vision. Bobbie Nelson, a long-time minister of religious education summed up the reaction of those of us present when she said that she might (or might not) like the vision they had, but she couldn't tell until they got more specific about how they are going to implement their vision.
I didn't much like the MFC/UUMA vision, but I like the way everyone in that room, both lay people and ordained ministers, took ministry so seriously. I liked the fact that everyone there was committed to having the highest quality UU ministers we can get.
After that was over, I ran over to a lecture on the relation between Transcendentalists and the abolition movement. It was a pretty interesting lecture on a pretty interesting piece of early American Unitarian history, but I had to leave early in order to get back to the hotel and pack and check out before noon. We had to leave General Assembly a little before the end.
I write this last entry in my GA journal sitting in my office in First Parish in Lexington (Massachusetts) the church I work for as a Director of Religious Education. Right now, back in Nashville, they should be in the middle of the closing ceremony. I imagine that maybe even as I write this, the Children's Honor Choir is singing, and I regret that I am not there to hear them. I regret not being able to stay another day, seeing a few more friends, taking one last walk through the exhibit hall and buying one more book, going to one more lecture and one more workshop. Maybe next year I\'ll be able to spend another day.
But at the same time it's good to be back here working in a local congregation. I look up and see a photograph of a Sunday school class on the wall, and on my desk lies a drawing given to me by a member of the youth group. In a minute I'm going to check my email, and catch up on what's been going on with the Church of the Larger Fellowship email list. And I remember that, for me anyway, the real strength of our Association lies in the local congregations.
General Assembly was a blast. I loved seeing old friends and meeting new people. I feel energized, and ready to work to strengthen both the congregation I work in and the virtual congregation of which I am a member. It's good to be back home.
It happened again this morning. The alarm went off, and I rolled over and pulled a pillow over my head. Unfortunately, so did my sister. But we did manage to get up in time for the Service of the Living Tradition.Saturday, June 24We found a seat in the packed convention center among thousands of other UUs. It is a long worship service, more than two hours, and it's mostly words. There was music, mostly provided by the Children's Honor Choir. One song they sang -- a superb rendition of a South African song, "Thuma Mina," in an arrangement with shifting harmonies, and with one girl singing powerful, moving solos -- was some of the best music I have heard in a UU worship service.
In one part of the Service of the Living Tradition, one of the worship leaders reads aloud the names of all the new ministers from the past year, and one by one these new ministers process across the stage. They read the name of my friend Ben Hall, but he wasn't there. He works with an open-air church on Boston Common, a church with a primary ministry to the homeless. I wonder if, just when they read his name in the Nashville Convention Center, he was outdoors worshipping on Boston Common with his congregation.
I spent much of the afternoon in the exhibit hall, staffing the Church of the Larger Fellowship (CLF) booth. Everyone passes through the exhibit hall at General Assembly, so I got to talk to Unitarian Universalists from all over. At one point, Sadie and Blake stopped by. Sadie reminded me about when she had gone to her first district youth conference. We got to talking about how they could keep a connection to Unitarian Universalism once they left home -- maybe CLF could help?
Talking with Sadie and Blake, two of my favorite (former) youth, I realized they're facing a much bigger transition than I had thought as they move into young adulthood. They no longer have as much support from their families and local congregations as they try to maintain contact with Unitarian Universalism. I began to get an inkling of how important General Assembly might be as a place for young adults to reconnect, to maintain contact with Unitarian Universalism.
I heard two exceptional speakers today -- John Shelby Spong, an Episcopalian bishop and author of the book "Why Christianity Must Change or Die," and Morris Dees, one of the founders of the Southern Poverty Law Center. Spong spoke for 60 minutes (exactly), without notes, with precise diction, challenging our intellects with his reading of the Bible. Dees spoke for 45 minutes (exactly), without notes, in a rich Southern accent, moving our hearts and souls to "let justice roll down like waters." Even though I'm not a good verbal learner and my mind wandered a few times, each of them kept me captivated simply by means of their elocutionary skill. After all the bland TV announcers and generic Hollywood voices and virulent radio voices, it did amaze me how powerful the spoken word can be.
My sister set the alarm for 8:30 a.m. I heard her hitting the alarm clock, trying to turn it off. I pulled a pillow over my head.Friday, June 23By the time she got out of the shower, I was more or less awake. She said, "I'm frazzled."
"So am I," I said. Two days into General Assembly -- seriously sleep deprived.
Once I got up, got some coffee, and got over to the conference center, I spent the rest of the morning in the plenary session. We were voting on proposed changes to the UUA bylaws -- necessary work, even interesting work, but not exactly stimulating work.
At one point moderator Denny Davidoff called for an "energy break." Half a dozen youth, wearing orange jumpsuits, ran up on the speaker's platform. Duncan Metcalfe, six and half feet tall with a shock of blond hair and a big grin, said, "OK, we're going to do a call-and-response thing. Everybody stand up!"
We stood up. He had us chant, in sing-song voices with appropriate hand motions, "There was a moose/ And he drank a lot of juice...." I can't remember the rest of it, because it was so silly that I began laughing too hard to remember anything.
All long meetings should have energy breaks. Actually, all UU business meetings should have youth representatives, too.
A couple of GA snippets: This afternoon, I went to a workshop on doing social justice, led by Rev. Jose Ballester of the UU Service Committee. He asked the difficult question, what is our UU theology? -- and answered it by saying, "Living your faith, people -- that's what it's all about!"
Second snippet -- a moment from the wonderful CLF worship service tonight. We were singing a hymn together, new words to an old-time country tune, and somehow I just got lifted up by the voices around me -- a clear baritone on my right, a husky alto on my left, behind me a bass that was a little rough, and the swell of voices all around me just carried me for a long minute.
I just got back from the bridging ceremony, where 18 and 19 year olds move out of the UU youth movement and are welcomed by our young adult movement. Maybe a thousand of us watched as, one by one, the youth walked across the stage, stopping at a microphone to tell us their names.
"Duncan Metcalfe." "Julia Herzig." I realized that I had met probably a third of the young people walking across that stage. "Laura Ortman." Each of the ones I knew was a dynamic, talented leader of district and continental youth activities. "Abbey Tennis." Now we were welcoming them as adults into our UU movement. "Blake Thomas Murphy." About half way through, I noticed that there were tears streaming down my cheeks,tears of sadness that these youth were moving on. "Sadie Kahn-Green." And tears of joy, tears of hope for the future of Unitarian Universalism.
What a day! Now I really have to go get some sleep.
One of the best parts of General Assembly is the conversations you have.Thursday, June 22, 10:30 pmI had breakfast with Carol, my academic advisor and Colleen, my mentor, from Meadville/ Lombard Theological School, one of two UU theological schools in North America -- I'm preparing to be a minister of religious education. After we got done with business, we wound up talking about whether or not you could create a Sunday school curriculum based on "the direct experience of transcending mystery and wonder" (one of the "six sources" of Unitarian Universalism).
"When my son was five," said Carol, "he had this very profound experience that he couldn't make sense of. I remember talking with him about it. But I still wonder -- when children have these profound experiences, how do you help them?"
Colleen and I couldn't answer the question, but it led to a long, fascinating conversation.
Another conversation:
I was taking a break from the plenary session this morning, because the air conditioning was too cold and I needed to warm up. I fell into conversation with Peter, a minister friend of mine.
"It's freezing in there," I said. "I couldn't stand it any more."
"What's worse is that it's a dark cave, and we can't see each other," said Peter. "This multimedia presentation of UUA reports!. We're supposed to be a deliberative body. How can we deliberate when we can't even see each other's faces? Or when we can't even read the agenda? I remember back in the 60's when people used to stand up and ask questions and challenge what was said in those reports."
Which led to a conversation about feminist theories of leading meetings. The conversations are the best part.
Yesterday, my sister and I had a conversation with our cab driver, a tall man wearing a white caftan, a Muslim.
"A friend of mine, an older man, told me: Concentrate on the youth," said our cab driver. "My seventeen year old son is my main man right now."
This afternoon, I went to hear the Youth Advisor Task Force give their report. Their basic message was that we need to support our youth advisors, and we need to support our UU youth. Concentrate on the youth.
I also attended the installation of the new minister of the Church of the Larger Fellowship. You can find my report on that event tomorrow, elsewhere on this website.
Tonight, I went to hear Sharon Welch, one of our UU scholars, talk on the topic of "Truth, Justice, and Jazz." She was with two jazz musicians -- bassist Ray Drummond and pianist James Williams. Although I went to hear Sharon Welch, the music and words of Ray Drummond and James Williams stuck with me. They played "Do Nothing Till You hear From Me," and it was a direct experience of transcending mystery and wonder. Later, James Williams said, "Jazz is a feeling, and it does have spiritual value."
Somehow, maybe that answers Carol's question of this morning.
General Assembly began aboard the plane as my sister, Abby, and I sat waiting to take off from Manchester, N. H., airport. There was Megan and her mom, Laurie, whom I had met at Ferry Beach, and Tom from the Durham fellowship. I wound up sitting next to Logan, whom I knew from the Youth Office at the UUA.The woman next to us said, "How come you know so many people on this flight?"
"We're all going to the same place, to a conference of Unitarian Universalists," said Logan.
After we checked into the hotel in Nashville, I went right over to the exhibit hall, to check in at the booth for the Church of the Larger Fellowship (CLF). I'm on the CLF board, and I wanted to see our booth. CLF is a church for isolated religious liberals around the world, so we don't have a building. You could say we're a virtual church.
When I saw our booth, there was a little catch in the back of my throat. It's just a booth at a convention center, said my rational side. Yes, said my emotional side, but it's ours, it's a real place for our virtual church, and it makes me proud.
I go to General Assembly because I'm a conscientious CLF Board member. I go to General Assembly because I want to help build a strong Unitarian Universalist Association. But I also go to General Assembly to see people I haven't seen in months and months.
"Dan!" said a voice. It was Gail, now assistant minister in Houston.
"Gail! How are you?" I said. "How's Nat?"
"He's great," said Gail. "And Nat has a new job. And we bought a house...."
And beyond these important personal matters, we talked about other matters almost as important. Is the Houston congregation healthy? What is the state of Unitarian Universalism in Texas? General Assembly is about the personal, and about the strength of our movement around the world.
And then it was on to the Opening Ceremony. Even though it incorporates the official opening of the business session, it's really a worship service. But it's a worship service like no other UU worship service I've ever attended. Part of it is hearing three or four thousand Unitarian Universalist voices singing a familiar hymn together: "Here we are gathered, gathered side by side...." There's a real power to that many voices singing together. It made the hair on my arms stand on end.
After that came the banner parade. How many scores of banners representing how many scores of congregations from across North America? Hundreds. Diverse, with beautiful banners, all of them part of our Association. From a distance, like when I'm at home remembering General Assembly, the banner parade always sounds kind of hokey. Then why were my eyes leaking at the corners as I watched teenagers and young adults and older adults, people of different sizes, shapes, and colors, marching in the banner parade? Now, as I write about it two hours later, the banner parade sounds a little maudlin, but all the best worship services are a little maudlin.
On Friday, it's on to the first full day of GA, including the installation of CLF's senior minister, the Rev. Jane Rzepka.
