Watch the Sunday Worship Photo Gallery

Rev. Gail Geisenhainer

Rev. Gail Geisenhainer

Congregants singing

Matthew Meyer

Melodie Feather

Ric Vice

Bill Sinkford, Gail Geisenhainer

Bill Sinkford, Jane Rzepka

Quadratic Equation

5002 Sunday Worship

Worship leaders: Rev. Gail Geisenhainer, Rev. William Sinkford, Rev. Jane Rzepka, Elizabeth Norton, Matt Meyer

Watch Sunday Worship: Windows Media 

Welcome and introduction to the Offering

Sermon: "We Who Believe In Freedom Cannot Rest," Rev. Gail Geisenhainer

Speaking to over congregation of over three thousand people, the Reverend Gail Geisenhainer gave one of the most rousing sermons preached at General Assembly Sunday morning worship in recent memory.

"Come, come into this space. Bring your hurts and your hopes. Here we create community where hurts can be healed and hopes can be made real," said the Reverend William Sinkford to open the worship service. "Here we search for common meaning and common purpose. Here we know that we are not alone. Come, let us worship together."

The first hymn, "Morning Has Come," a meditative contemporary hymn written by the Rev. Jason Shelton of Nashville, TN, put the congregation into a peaceful mood.

"Morning has come," said the Reverend Jan Rzepka, senior minister of the Church of the Larger Fellowship, a Unitarian Universalist congregation that serves religious liberals around the world through the Web and by mail. "Sunday has come, and on behalf of Unitarian Universalist congregations everywhere I welcome you who are in this room and you who are with us by way of technology." Live video of the worship service was streamed via the Web site of the Unitarian Universalist Association (UUA).

"A special welcome to anyone here who is new to Unitarian Universalism," Rzepka continued. As for the past two General Assemblies, the Sunday morning worship service for this General Assembly was advertised to and open to the surrounding community. Rzepka also welcomed the General Assembly delegates on this last day of the convention, saying, "You have made it right on through to Sunday, so not only do I welcome you, I congratulate you." Her words were greeted by applause and laughter by tired delegates.

Rzepka told the story of Abigail Adams Cranch Eliot, who came to St. Louis in 1837 when she was 20 years old, accompanying her husband, the Reverend William Eliot, who had been called as the first Unitarian minister in St. Louis. "She arrives to find a warm welcome here in St. Louis, and for the next 71 years she pitches in to help the people of this town, she lives her religion. And that's what we'll do too," said Rzepka. "We can live our religion during our time here, and so our morning offering will benefit 'Lift for Life,'" a free after-school program for inner city children in St. Louis.

The offertory music, "We Are One" by Brian Tate," was another contemporary worship song. It was sung by the General Assembly Choir, accompanied by Susan Peck on piano, Ric Vice on bass, Martin Frye on drums, Leon Burke playing the organ, Melodie Feather and Daniel Stern playing handbells, and Matt Meyer providing percussion.

After the offertory, Rzepka gave a reading from 1921 by L. B. Fisher. "Universalists are often asked to tell where they stand," Rzepka read. "The only true answer to this question is that we do not stand at all, we move.... We do not stand still, nor do we defend theological positions." Laughter greeted these words. The reading concluded by saying that the main question is to determine which way we are moving, and "not to move around and around like squirrels in a cage."

The next hymn was a "rhythm hymn," led by percussionist Meyer. He talked about how learn to play their own individual music within a larger, unified piece of music. "I believe that when we come together as people of faith, we too can create something much greater... than the sum of the parts." He then led the congregation in shifting, four part clapping rhythms. At the end, he told members of the congregation to sit, "and take a deep breath, and sit down as you exhale."

"Whether we're making music together or not," Meyer continued, "I blieve that attnetion to the rhythm of our breath can focus the attention of our minds and transform our consciousness." From the back of the congregation came a cry of "Right on!"

"Spirit of life and love, known by many names, dear God," said Sinkford to begin the prayer and meditation. "As we hear the breath of life, we ask ourselves, for what should we pray. Should we pray for peace in our hearts and in our world? Yes, we pray for peace. Should we pary for strength to sustain us when life is hard? Yes, we pray for strength." Sinkford continued on, praying for "meaning to guide us," healing, and justice.

"Should we pray for the American soldiers who have died in Iraq," Sinkford prayed, "and for the thousands and thousands of Iraqis who have died? Yes... we will toll bells to mark their passing." In imitation of tolling bells, Feather and Stern softly played handbells behind the rest of the prayer. Sinkford concluded, "May our breath sustain us and know that we are a part of life, and many our life together be a blessing to the world."

Rzepka returned to the pulpit for the second reading, from Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott. The reading began, "We had shown up at a peace march not knowing what else to do and without much hope." In the reading, Lamott tells how the individuals joining the peace march became a part of something larger than themselves.

The anthem, "Ella's Song" by Unitarian Universalist composer Dr. Bernice Johnson Reagon, was sung by the quartet "Quadratic Equation." The quartet sang, "We who believe in freedom cannot rest, until it comes.... Until the killing of black men, black mothers and sons, become as important as the killing of white men, white mothers and sons, we cannot rest." Halfway through this beautiful flowing anthem, the congregation was on its feet, clapping along. The singers invited the congregation to join them in singing the chorus.

The Reverend Gail Geisenhainer, minister of the Unitarian Uiversalist Fellowship of Vero Beach, Florida, stepped forward to deliver a sermon titled "We Who Believe in Freedom Cannot Rest." From her opening sentence, she held the congregation rapt.

"I was forthrightly evangelized into Unitarian Universalism," she began, to scattered cheers from the congregation. "I was 38 years old, living in Maine, and driving a snow plow for a living, and feeling very sorry for myself when a friend invited me to his church. He said it was—different." Laughter greeted this remark.

"I rudely refused," Geisenhainer continued. "Truth be told, I cursed his church. 'All blanking churches are the same,' I said, 'They say they're open but they don't want queer folk.' But my friend persisted. He knew his church was different.... He assured me I could come and not have to hide any element of who I was."

"I went. Oh, mama, I went, and I dressed so carefully for my first Sunday. I spiked my short hair straight up into the air. I dug out my oldest, heaviest work boots with the chain saw cut on one toe that showed the metal underneath the black leather.... There would not be one shred of ambiguity that Sunday." The congregation laughed sympathetically. "Those people would embrace my full Amazon glory, or they could go fry ice."

"I bundled up every shred of pain" that she carried as an out lesbian, "and I lumbered into that tiny meeting house on the coast of Maine," said Geisenhainer. "I expected the little gray-haired ladies in the foyer to step back in fear. Instead, those ladies stepped forward as I entered." The congregation erupted into cheers and applause.

"They never even flinched," said Geisenhainer. "They called me 'dear.' It was so—odd." The people of that congregation invited Geisenhainer to stay for coffee after the worship service. "I stayed for coffee. I stayed for Unitarian Universalism."

Geisenhainer became a part of that congregation, but the way was not always smooth. One Sunday, during the congregational sharing of joys and concerns, one woman in the congregation stood and spoke about how she thought all homosexuals should be segregated from the rest of society, and how they were not fully human. Geisenhainer left that worship service as quickly as possible.

"But I went back," she said. "I was learning my first lesson about being in covenant. When things get ugly, we do not walk away." This statement was greeted with applause and cries of "All right!"

"Mercy, how we yearn to walk away," she continued. "That's OK, but our covenant calls us to abide and to work things through together."

The next Sunday, Geisenhainer did go back to that small Maine church. That next Sunday, during the sharing of joys and concerns, people rose to speak who had never spoken before during the worship service. "Person after person rose to announce that not everything we heard last week was true or representative of who we are as a Unitarian Universalist congregation."

However, said Geisenhainer, members of that congregation did not demonize or dehumanize the woman who had made homophobic remarks. "They did not start calling her names: that homophobe, or that gay basher," Geisenhainer said. "None of that happened."

Quoting the words of Gotama Buddha, Geisenhainer said, "Never does hatred cease by hating in return." Then she added, "My friend was right—his church was different. He did forget to tell us, however, that some Sundays we could be in for a wild wild ride."

Geisenhainer said she was sometimes frustrated by the pace of change in that Maine congregation, as they worked towards full and open acceptance of gay and lesbian persons. But in the end, she realized that it was best to keep everyone in relation, in covenant, rather than to issue denunciations.

Referring to the theology of Martin Buber, author of I Thou, Geisenhainer said, "I had walked into that meetinghouse as a bruised and fighting 'I' but in time that turned into a 'we'."

Going back to the moment when the woman had risen to make her comments about gay and lesbians persons, Geisenhainer recalled that it felt like everything stopped, including her breathing. That Sunday, she fled the church immediately at the conclusion of the service. A man held the door open for her as she left, and said, "See you next week."

"Was he mad, was he impaired, has he not heard what that woman had said?" Geisenhainer said. "It was at once a question and an invitation.... The man's voice, his soft smile, his gentle tone, his direct eye contact.... Ours was an I-Thou encounter, the very thing I had been seeking. It was an acceptance of the reality that I might not come back." And by that man saying that, Geisenhainer found that she could start breathing again.

"Within our religious community, I feel that we have all too many breath-stopping moments," she continued. "In some congregations, I fear we have grown all too accustomed to this heavy artillery of meanness."

"What spiritual practice and discipline do you employ to get back on track when you have been stopped by meanness and bigotry?" she asked. She encouraged those in the congregation to develop such spiritual practices and spiritual disciplines.

She called for Unitarian Universalists to build a culture of inclusion and compassion, to bring down justice like the waters, and then broke into singing a verse of "Ella's Song", accompanied by the bassist: "Let us sing to pray, to understand." The congregation joined her as she sang, singing, "We who believe in freedom cannot rest until it comes."

"I have heard people say that they are reluctant to invite people to worship at their Unitarian Universalist congregation," she continued, "reluctant because you just may not know what might happen on Sunday morning when you get up a head of steam. But go ahead. Take a risk. Invite someone to your church. It's time to get the salvific message of Unitarian Universalism out from our congregations, out from our isolated hearts, out past our limitations and frustrations. We need to challenge and comfort a bruised and wounded world." Applause and cries of "Amen!" came from the congregation.

"'See you next week'," she said. There were cries of "Yeah!" from the congregation. "This is an invitation we must extend. Let us expand who we mean by 'we'.... Let us build beloved communities, that trust the dawning future—

"See you next week."

The congregation leaped to its feet to give Geisenhainer a standing ovation for her stirring sermon. Some people said it was one of the finest sermons delivered at General Assembly in recent memory.

Geisenhainer and Sinkford gave the benediction together. "Go forth in the power of love, practice kindness, demand justice, and offer compassion, said Geisenhainer.

"May the challenge you have found here go forth with you," said Sinkford, "and amen."

The congregations shouted back, "Amen!"

The closing hymn was the South African song "Siyahamba." Meyer laid down a powerful groove on the djembe, and the General Assembly choir, directed by Elizabeth Norton, music director of First Parish of Concord, Mass., led the congregation in singing perhaps a dozen verses of this song of freedom and justice.

During this closing hymn, Geisenhainer and Sinkford processed off the stage, where Geisenhainer was met by people who greeted her with hugs. By this time, the congregation was swaying in time to the music, singing in harmony. A growing number of people raised their hands over their heads to sway with the music, and by the last verse a line dance made its way through the aisles.

After the worship service was over, there were numerous comments about the excellence of the sermon. "Wow," said Lynn Calvin of the DuPage Unitarian Universalist Church of Naperville, Illinois. "Going [to a church] expecting not to be welcomed, and being welcomed. That was amazing." She said it was easily one of the best sermons she has ever heard preached at a General Assembly.

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