Doubting Thomas Was a UU

The church looked like an octagonal barn, the wood siding weathered grey in the weak March sunlight.  Nestled in the wetlands near Lake Michigan, with native prairie for a front yard, that small, round building sheltered the gathered congregation as they assembled for Sunday morning worship.  This was the day that the youth who had completed the Coming of Age curriculum would be invited to sign the membership book and gain equal standing with the adults of the community.

But first, each youth had to stand in the pulpit and read an essay about his or her beliefs.  To come of age, the congregation expected each youth to be able to articulate a personal statement about his or her own system of theological thought.

This was the day when, with complete confidence, I announced from the pulpit that I had

Life’s Masquerade

As I read the words I wrote over a decade ago, I think this essay perhaps says less about the nature of society, and more about what it felt like to be a teenager.  Has the high school experience changed in the intervening years?  Or do teenagers today feel like they are always trying on masks, struggling to figure out where they fit into the world? Do these words still hold relevance to an audience today?

The amazing youth who attend the Unitarian Universalist Church of Minnetonka are beginning to put together the worship service for Sunday, March 18, 2012.  As I help to empower them from my position as a minister and youth leader, I’ve been reflecting back on the adults who helped me find my voice when I was a youth growing up in Wisconsin.  In a burst of nostalgia, I went through my bookshelves and found my very first sermon, written as a personal essay for Doc Cass’s AP English class in 2000.  It was shared with Unitarian Church North in Mequon, Wisconsin as the sermon for the youth service the following spring.

~*~

A bright smile that reveals nothing.  A certain veil behind happy eyes, masking true emotion.  A quick handshake in greeting.  A distant nod of welcome.  Meaningless phrases such as “It’s nice to see you,” or “Yes, we’ve met before.”  This is the arsenal of words and gestures that arms the average person of today, equipping them for their daily venture into the polite world.  These manners allow them to meet people, greet people, and treat with people without revealing a single personal detail about themselves.

Am I the only person who sees something wrong with this?

The Fruits of Our Roots

Though I would never have admitted it at the time, when I was growing up I found myself jealous of my Christian friends.  Peeking in from the perspective of an outsider, I saw that they had their mythical creation stories with Adam and Eve, their prophets such as Abraham and Moses, and their historical ancestors of Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, and Mother Teresa.  Like their Jewish ancestors, Christians use their rich history to build up their understanding of who they are today.  In the case of the Catholic church, they trace their priestly lines all the way back to the original apostles, which is known as the “apostolic tradition.”  But even in Protestant denominations, they share the stories of their scriptures and their history, forming a common heritage that connects them in unseen ways.

Raised in a Unitarian Universalist congregation, I was taught to appreciate the questions, to cherish my doubt.  I was encouraged to use reason to reach my own personal answers, relying on scientific fact, logic, and the proof of experience.  I had the Seven Principles to guide me, a youth group that danced the Time Warp at midnight, and the freedom to explore any world religion or existential idea that I wanted to. Because of this background, I became a lifelong seeker, growing into my understanding that even to question, truly, is an answer.  I learned to find comfort in

Doing Human, Being Justice

In this sermon, we explore the idea of what it means to be human–and how that relates to the dream of building a new church in Wayzata, Minnesota.  From ancient ruins in Turkey to the physiology of the human brain, I suggest that our humanity is intimately tied to our yearning for social justice.

~*~

Last week, Rev. Kent Hemmen Saleska, the minister here at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Minnetonka, presented a sermon that outlined a vision for the future of this church.  It followed the unexpected news that our congregation was successful in its federal lawsuit against the City of Wayzata, meaning that we will be able to build and move into our new church within the next six years.  Kent ended his sermon by saying:

Conflict becomes an opportunity for intimacy when we engage it with a sense of humility, knowing that we hurt… we get scared… we make mistakes…[and] we are imperfect beings, too.

Over the past three years, particularly in the realm of our legal struggles, we’ve been providing leadership … by engaging in a lot of doing.  Maybe it is time that we lead simply by being….

Coffee Talk

This story is dedicated today, as it has always been, to Paul.  You have always been a true friend.  -lm

~*~

The boy was waiting when she arrived at work.  His cheeks were pink on pale skin as though he were feverish.  He was playing with a pen while examining the menu on the counter.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“No,” he said, “I don’t know what I want.”

“Let me know when you figure it out.”  She stashed her backpack under the counter.  Her coworker waved as she left to go enjoy what remained of her night.

“Do you have any suggestions?” he asked.

“Depends on what you’re in the mood for.”

“I guess.”  Then he said, “I don’t like coffee.”

“And yet

The New Year Fairy

It happened while I was driving home on New Year’s Eve.  The sun hadn’t shown its face all day, and after months of not-quite-winter weather, Minneapolis was blessing us with freezing rain-slush-snow on the last day of 2011, and temperatures were plummeting.  With alcohol flowing freely at various celebrations around the city that night, it was not a time that I wanted to be on the road.

I was approaching a red light when I saw the first one.  Cautiously slowing my car, I glanced out my window to make sure no one was about to slide into me.  And I saw a yellow light flickering up above me in the dark sky.

Just War (or Homeless: the Epilogue)

Following the events of my previous blog entry (Homeless: A Story), I was troubled, though it took me a while to put my finger on what was bothering me.

It boiled down to two things:

1.  Mindful practice
2. Ethical warfare

In retrospect, I realized I’d had some preconceived notions about what a clergy sleep out would be like, and those notions were not in alignment with the reality of my lived experience that night.  When I tried explaining my unsettled feeling to someone who hadn’t been there, I was told, “Oh, you’re just feeling guilty for having too much fun when you thought you should have been miserable.”

But that’s not quite it.  I was plenty miserable at a previous homelessness simulation, and I was still miserable the next day; and I’d had fun at a previous homelessness simulation, and I felt great the next day.

It wasn’t until I was on my way home this time around and I saw that man standing there with his sign that I realized