From your Minister

Hearing a Different Voice

May, 2010—Traveling across weather zones can be tricky for anyone who prefers to travel light. Leaving the Interim Minister's Conference in Texas last Friday so I could get to the Humanist Institute in New York City by Friday evening, I was reminded of how it feels to come up short with what I may need but neglected to pack. Upon arrival in NYC, rain was coming down in torrents.  It was cold and windy. I was wearing clothes just perfect for a warm climate -- down to my soggy sandals. I was more than a little uncomfortable and I felt conspicuously out of place. Standing in a long line of travelers waiting for taxi cabs, I overheard the woman behind me in line say to her spouse "She must be really cold." Right. Cold and wet. 

The fine art of accepting discomfort has become something I strive to embrace, especially since I began working as an Interim Minister. More than continually being uprooted from the people and the place I consider my true home, there is a constant need to adapt to the culture of every congregation I serve. Like people, every congregation has its own history and its own people who all have their own way of seeing things. 

I want you all to know that I am not going to the trouble of moving and finding another job because I don't want to be here anymore. I want to be here. I am making myself uncomfortable because it comes with my understanding of what transitions ministry is all about. If I go against my own knowing that we have made a great deal of progress together, and have now reached a place where UUCLB will benefit from hearing a different voice (even if some of the words used are the same as mine), experiencing a different style, and hearing another approach to sermons before calling a Settled Minister -- if I don't listen to my own knowing and act upon it with integrity, then I am failing myself and I am failing you. 

There is no fault and no blame attached to my decision. I see you as being ready to take important next steps, even though it may make some of you a little uncomfortable. If you can balance your discomfort with a heavy dose of trust in the transition process and in the leaders you have chosen to represent your interests, you will be just fine. You will be better than fine. 
You will be great.

Love,
Rev. Forsey

Covenant of Right Relations

March, 2010—When I think about the best course for UUCLB to take while navigating change, which is always difficult -- even when it is change for the good of the whole church, I am reminded of the fact that we all take in information that holds meaning and stays with us in various ways. I hope that we can approach issues before the congregation from  perspectives that have potential for broadening the conversations that will carry UUCLB into the future. Some members will be satisfied with discussions and presentations, while others will benefit more from experiencing what is being discussed, and others will relate to stories and metaphors or reading texts that may seem indirectly related to the issue at hand, but carry a depth of meaning that offers the reader new insights and perhaps a shift in understanding. Film, music and other art forms also belong in this category. 

I collect stories that have brought about some kind of change or shift in my own perceptions. I heard such a story recently at a ministers' retreat in Palos Verdes. It relates to one of the conversations currently taking place at UUCLB.

THE JOHN  WOOLMAN STORY, from "The Swan and a Tailor"
Facing the Lion, Being the Lion: Finding Inner Courage Where It Lives
by Mark Nepo

A tailor by trade, John Woolman (1720-1772) lived in colonial New Jersey among Quaker farmers and merchants whose religious beliefs held all human beings as equals in the eyes of God but whose affluence depended heavily on slave labor. He received "a revelation from God" that slavery was an abomination and that Quakers should set their slaves free. For twenty years, at great personal cost, Woolman devoted himself to sharing. this revelation with members of his religious community, "walking his talk" with every step. When he visited a remote farmhouse to share his revelation, he would fast rather than eat a meal prepared or served by slaves. If he inadvertently benefited from a slave's labor, he would insist on paying that person.

Woolman quietly and persistently carried a spiritual courage within him wherever he went. Without forcing his views on anyone, he carried his questions about slavery like a lantern that he held before all that he met, and that light, slowly but surely, illumined the dark corners of their minds. It is interesting to understand how the American Quaker community dealt with slavery in contrast to how the rest of America did.

When Woolman first brought his question about slavery to his own Quaker circle, they took the question very seriously, reflecting on it and discussing it at length. Still, they could not come to consensus. But here's the unprecedented lesson. Instead of shutting down the minority view, instead of censuring or even exiling Woolman as a pariah, his Quaker circle said that though they could not agree with' him, they could see that he had been touched by something sacred in this. And so they invited him to pursue this question among the rest of their Quaker circles across America. If he would do this, they would provide for his family, Woolman accepted their charge, and they awaited the findings of his journey.

An episode recounted in Woolman's journal reveals much about his ministry: "A neighbor (who had been gravely injured) desired me to write his Will. Among other things he told me to which of his children he gave his young Negro. I wrote his Will save only that part concerning his slave, and, carrying it to his bedside, read it to him. I then told him in a friendly way that I could not write any instruments by which my fellow creatures were made slaves without bringing trouble on my own mind. I let him know I charged nothing for what I had done, and desired to be excused from doing the other part in the way he had proposed. We then had a serious conference on the subject; he, at length, agreeing to set her free, I finished the Will."Woolman's message
was not always so well-received by Friends, who are as adept as anyone at contradicting their own beliefs. Freeing their slaves would create considerable financial stress for the well-heeled Quaker gentry. Woolman held a profound tension as he traveled, standing in the gap between the Quaker belief of 'that of God in every person' and the reality of Quaker practice. But hold the tensions he did for two decades.

As he traveled by foot, word spread about the quiet Quaker with the deep presence. When speaking without a translator to a Native American elder, the leader, moved by Woolman's sheer presence, came over, placed his hand on Woolman's chest and said, "I like to feel where words come from." Not knowing what the elder had said, Woolman placed his hand on the elder's chest and simply bowed.

Woolman's story is one of a man being faithful to his belief, and of being willing to tell his truth in love. Quakers kept extensive journals and many wrote about their experiences with Woolman; journal entries about him all talk about his humility and kindness, the power of powerlessness, his lack of arrogance, and that he was `just telling his story.' The Quakers understood that God had a will in this issue, and that it was important for them to stay in conversation long enough to discern it. If you intend a nonviolent  outcome, you need to move towards it in nonviolent ways.

Quakers don't take votes because they think of votes as a form of violence. They hold the tensions until there is unity.

No one knew that this journey would take Woolman close to twenty years, as he walked through almost every Quaker community along the East Coast, following his question about the rightness of slavery into home after home, opening conversation after conversation, and listening to the story of his community unfold, an exchange at a time. The result was as extraordinary as it was quiet. Finally, the Quaker community in America arrived at a consensus to free all their slaves. And, in 1783, eleven years after John Woolman's death, the Quaker community as a whole petitioned Congress to correct the "complicated evils" of slavery.

______

Reading this story, I felt the connection between our Unitarian Universalist Principles and Purposes, which we all want to follow as best we can, and how we also know that we fall short.  And, I was impressed with how the Quakers, who initially did not agree with Woolman, still treated him with the utmost respect and dignity. I hope that we remember, and hold tight, to our Covenant of Right Relations in everything we do while making decisions during the upcoming eighteen months.

Love to you all,
Rev. Alicia

Nothing is Permanent

February, 2010—I know that change is constant and that acceptance of change is a much better option than pretending it doesn't exist, or fighting the inevitable. However, I draw the line when it comes to change that is destructive, unnecessary and thoughtless. For example, I rented the studio apartment I am living in here in Long Beach for two reasons. One reason is that I can walk to work. The other was a huge olive tree that completely filled the three large windows in the main room. The tree made the apartment feel like a tree house. I loved it, and the birds it attracted.

Then one morning I woke up at 7:45 to the loud sound of saws. Three men were in the tree, sawing off limbs like there was no tomorrow. I dressed and rushed outside. The men seemed pleased that I had a real problem with what they were doing, and happily continued on. When they left there was not much beyond the butchered trunk and what remained of some larger limbs still standing. No leafs. Now my view is of garage roofs, a stucco hotel and the apartments across the lawn from mine. All ugly.

I know that this is trivial in comparison to the real problems so many people on this planet are dealing with — life or death kinds of problems. I sat on my sofa for a long time trying to figure out how to respond to this small problem that felt so big to me. Was it the way the tree now repulsed my aesthetic sensibilities? Was it the behavior of the three macho men? Was it feeling that, as a renter, I have no say in much of anything that goes on in the place where I live? Perhaps a little of all these things, along with a reminder that change will not always be easy, nor what I want.

Even though I managed to think it through, this event was unsettling. Change is certainly on the minds of members and friends of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Long Beach, and surely it is unsettling to anyone who has worked to make the church what it is today. There is a history to every inch of UUCLB, from the rose garden to the "structure" to Wylder Hall, to memories of those who have died, to talking about the future, to the beautiful setting — to everything. Every change, no matter how small, matters. Fortunately, the positive possibilities far outweigh the potential for negative change. You will find a settled minister who can lead you with vision and wisdom. The pledges from your first Capital Campaign appeal are coming in so that you will be able to begin with your plans. New members continue to sign the membership book. During these two years of transition, things will feel unsettled at times, but every change being made is with the good of the whole church in mind.

My olive tree demanded a response from me that called me back to remembering what is really important. In the meantime, I went to Target and bought some great curtains.

Love to you all,
Rev. Alicia

Future of the Whole Church

January, 2010—Four months gone already! We have made some good progress. The Board of Trustees has been hard at work on many fronts, all focused on plans that will be beneficial to the future of the whole church.  

I look forward to continuing my work with UUCLB as you position the church for the call of a settled minister. In addition to the usual expectations of a parish minister, I will continue to focus on ways the infrastructure of the church can be strengthened. Promoting a strong identity at UUCLB, improving stewardship, paying attention to the history of UUCLB as well as the history of the wider movement — these kinds of things (and more) are ways I can be helpful during your time of transition.   

I may have been here a short amount of time, but I already am convinced that the Unitarian Universalist church of Long Beach is a wonderful place to be, full of good, creative, intelligent, thoughtful and kind individuals. And, I should add, hardworking. I'm picking up on the fact that UUCLB has a good reputation among my colleagues here in the Pacific Southwest District. I am proud to be serving this church. I see UUCLB as a congregation that is already on the map, and poised for flight in the direction of whatever you set your minds on achieving. As you gather up the bounty of all the goodwill, commitment, generosity and dedication of the congregation and put it in motion toward a fulfilled vision, UUCLB will give back to you in like kind. Simply put, it is almost always true that we receive in equal measure what we put into anything we care about.

I welcome your comments, and look forward to getting to know those of you I have yet to meet.

Warm regards,
Rev. Alicia

Laughing Out Loud

November, 2009— I put myself through seminary mostly by going to events like The Renaissance Fair and selling my ceramics, something I had been doing for over ten years. I shared a studio in Berkeley with a woman who has the same sort of quirky sense of humor as I do. We both had been cranking out stoneware pots for years, but both of us were getting very bored with always knowing how our creations were going to look when we unloaded the kiln. Celadon, Ted's Red, Oatmeal, cobalt blue . . . they were just too predictable. We made our own glazes, so we were able to try for new colors, and sometimes they looked good enough to add to our repertoire. Still, it was all uninspired as far as we were concerned, and thus boring. But it was how we made our living.

Then one day we decided to switch to Raku. Raku is a Japanese way of firing pots, but it is more than firing pots.  It is a spiritual discipline. It can be dangerous, because the potter is required to move quickly, decisively and expertly in the midst of smoke and fire knowing that the outcome of the endeavor is not in her complete control. And, all expectations relating to how we wanted our work to appear, or how we hoped our pots would survive the tension of sudden, drastic temperature change and come out in one piece, had to be set aside. No attachment. No certainty about Raku being a way to earn a living.

Switching to Raku led to becoming re-engaged in our work. Our new business was called "Raku Yaki." We became quite different potters when we left the boring for the uncertain or the work that required precision, risk and competence. We were happy. We were in love with what we were doing. We now sold in shops. I had back orders I couldn't keep up with. Our motto became "Wake Up Laughing." 

All this, which I could go on about for days, is to bring up a question, to myself and to you. When was the last time you laughed out loud? When was the last time you woke up so happy you were bursting with eagerness to get out of bed? It is said that laughter is the best medicine. I think there is some truth to this. A well-known author (it might have been Calvin Trillin) was told by his doctors that they could not help him with a problem he was experiencing beyond what they had already tried, so he went to a movie rental place and checked out every funny movie he had seen that he could find, which included a lot of slapstick comedy. Then he went to a hotel he liked and stayed there for a week, just ordering what he wanted to eat from room service, sleeping and watching comedies.  He laughed himself well. 

The last time I laughed out loud was a couple of weeks ago, reading a New Yorker magazine. There is a one page announcement titled "Attention, People of Earth" by Paul Simms in the September 21 issue. This piece is from aliens who are on their way to earth.  They will be here shortly   sometime in the next four hundred and fifty years. They are much bigger than us, so their space ship is huge. We better begin preparing a place for them to land. They suggest a continent that might do if it is completely cleared. And so on. 

I notice that many of you are very busy. When distracted from taking time to enjoy a little goofing-off or silliness, it is not likely that you will hear yourself laughing much. We are meant to experience the lightness of being often enough to balance the things we need to do in order to keep afloat. If you are missing this balance, try and find a way to reclaim it. It may mean learning how to say "no" more often, or backing off of one or more of the commitments you have made because you are a person who is generous with your time. If you think about it, remember that your time is your life, so finding more laughter can be a very serious undertaking.

Love to you all,
Rev. Alicia

Homecoming

-September 2009

Moving to Long Beach is like a homecoming to me. There are real beaches here. The sea air fires up my thoughts like no dry, hot, inland location could. People are friendly. Getting my utilities turned on did not require half-hour waits for the next customer representative. I was connected to human operators, not robots. My apartment is very small, but it has a giant olive tree that spans the three front windows. I can walk to work, and to Trader Joe's too. The church building is lovely, the minister's office is inviting and the ceiling of the sanctuary reminds me of a ship. Nave is the Latin word for "ship." The nave is where the congregation sits, as passengers on the ship. In ecclesiastical art the ship is sailing toward heaven, but my guess is that in a Unitarian Universalist church we might have a different take on that.

Born in Hermosa Beach and brought up in Manhattan Beach, I'm fairly certain that my sense of coming home is determined by the many nostalgic memories I have about growing up in a beach town.  I knew I was fortunate to be there when I was young, and now the wheel of life has brought me back.  

I am glad to be here. I look forward to our time together.

Rev. Alicia