LOOKING BACKWARD, LIVING FORWARD

a sermon preached by the Rev. Dr. Tim W. Jensen
at The First Religious Society in Carlisle, Massachusetts
Sunday October 22nd, 2006

OPENING WORDS: American preachers have a task more difficult, perhaps, than those faced by us under South Africa’s apartheid, or Christians under Communism. We had obvious evils to engage; you have to unwrap your culture from years of red, white and blue myth. You have to expose, and confront, the great disconnect between the kindness, compassion and caring of most American people, and the ruthless way American power is experienced, directly and indirectly, by the poor of the earth. You have to help good people see how they have let their institutions do their sinning for them. This is not easy among people who really believe that their country does nothign but good, but it is necessary, not only for their future, but for us all. -- Peter Storey, former president of the Methodist Church of South Africa.

***

So just in case you arrived late to church, or were sleeping through the first part of the service, today really is my actual 50th birthday. It was fifty years ago today, at approximately this time in the morning (although three time zones to the west of here) that my mother gave birth to me at Ballard General Hospital in Seattle, after what I’m told was NOT an easy labor. And yes, this also really is the 575th sermon of my career (or at least the 575th sermon that I can document -- there may have actually been a few others that have now slipped my mind and been justifiably forgotten). But I thought it was so precious last Sunday when I shared this information during the Moment for All Ages, and young Roy Watson looked up at me in astonishment and asked “the same one?”

In any case, I’ve certainly had plenty of time to think about what I wanted to say here this morning, and plenty of previous material to draw on. And yet, when it actually came time to write it all out, rather than sitting down in front of my computer and staring for a few hours at a blinking cursor, I decided to put Parker on her leash and take a little walk through this “City in the Woods” that has been our home now for a little more than three years.

First we walked down Church Street and past the ball fields, where I ran into Dick and Carolyn Shohet on their way to watch their granddaughter play soccer, and then of course I also ran into Nancy and Rick, as well as Mark Szezesniak (and I’m guessing that his daughter was somewhere out on the field too, although I didn’t see her). I know there are a lot of folks here in town who aren’t really that keen about having a ball field right across the street from their homes, but for my part I love it.... I would much rather have young athletes cutting through my back yard than a bear, for instance... and I’m especially looking forward to the new outdoor basketball courts the RecCom is planning to build where the tennis courts are now (assuming, of course, that they can finally get their ballot measure passed in a couple of weeks).

And then we kept walking on down the hill to the Green Cemetery, where Parker and I used to walk quite a bit when we first moved to Carlisle, but not quite so much any more. Now when we go to the cemetery I always find myself drawn to the graves of people I’ve buried there. Dot Clark’s daughter Betty, for example, who is buried next to her father Guy on the opposite side from her brother Bill, with just enough space left over in the middle for Dot herself someday (although hopefully not any day soon).

Or James Deacon, who was only 41 at the time of his death, and whose grave is marked by a polished black monolith engraved with the words “Death lies on him like an untimely frost upon the sweetest flower of all the field,” and has a small statute of a sleeping dog curled up in front of it.

And of course, Jeanne Rourk, who I got to know so well in the last year of her life, and who gave me that great advice to “buy the red convertible.” I haven’t followed her advice yet, but maybe now that I’m fifty I will.

And then we walked back up the hill, and down the trail behind the parsonage to the library (where Parker always likes to get in a good sniff for bears), and then back up past the Common here to the front of FRS, just so I could take yet another good look at the reason I came to these woods in the first place, this “spiritual home in the heart of Carlisle” where I serve as the Parish Minister.

And I hope you all appreciate that even though it may seem like I talk an awful lot about myself up here (especially on a day like today), these sermons aren’t really about me at all. And they aren’t really about you either -- they’re about US: this community of faith where I am charged with the profound responsibility of trying to share things I have learned in fifty years of life and twenty-five years of ministry which might somehow be beneficial to some of you as well.

I know I can’t please all of the people all of the time. But I do have faith that if you stick around long enough, you will eventually hear something you think is worthwhile. Emerson once wrote that “The true preacher can be known by this, that he deals out to the people his life--life passed through the fire of thought.” This is what I do for a living...and believe me, it’s not nearly so easy as I try to make it look.

As I tried explaining to the kids last week, there comes a point in all our lives where we stop thinking so much about getting gifts on special occasions like our birthdays, and start thinking instead about the gifts we have to give, the best of which always come out of the essence of our own lives. It’s just like when we were kids ourselves, and people would ask us what we want to be when we grow up.

And then at some point we realize we ARE grown up, and have to start figuring out what it is we’ve become...even though most days we may still be feeling pretty “young at heart,” despite the evidence of our reflection in the mirror or the aches and pains of increasing age. And at this point in my life, I’ve been a minister for so long that it’s hard for me to imagine doing anything else... or perhaps more accurately, that I would ever stop BEING a minister no matter what I choose to do....

I know I’ve mentioned this before, but one of the ways I’ve been celebrating this milestone in my life is taking advantage of various opportunities open to me for personal and professional development. And this last August I had a chance to spend two days down at the Center for Career Development and Ministry in Dedham, where I learned lots of interesting new things about myself and my ministry.

This is actually the third time I’ve been through a program like this. I went once when I was still in my twenties, in preparation for my ordination; and then again when I was in my mid-thirties, a few years before starting my Ph.D., when I was feeling a little burnt out by ministry and considering a change of careers. This last time was probably the most interesting though. Here are just a few of the things I learned.

First, my Myers-Briggs type has changed from the previous times I’ve taken the test, from Introverted Intuitive Thinking Perceiver to Introverted Intuitive FEELING Perceiver...which I’m sure means nothing to those of you who aren’t familiar with the MBTI, but which I take to mean that, in twenty-five years of parish ministry, I have finally given up on trying to figure it all out, and have learned instead that there are times when you simply have to trust your gut and follow your heart.

My Strong-Campbell Interest Inventory profile was also kind of interesting. This is a test I’m sure many of you are familiar with, since I think in one form or another it’s been a staple of High School Guidance Counselors since before I was born. This is that test where they ask you to answer a series of questions, such as whether you would rather milk a cow or fly a jet, and then at the end of several hundred of these they tell you whether you should enlist in the Air Force or stay home on the farm....

Ministers tend to have high scores in the “Social/Helping” area (which I do), and in the past I’ve also scored high on both the “Analytical/Investigative” and “Enterprising/Influencing” scales...which is why I was interested in earning a Ph.D. in the first place, and also why I tend to be just a little more entrepreneurial than most parish ministers (believe it or not).

But this last time I took the test, my “Artistic/Creative” scores were four times higher than my next highest scale, which was something brand new, and which probably explains why I’ve noticed that my sermons have actually gotten a lot more subtle and carefully-crafted over the years, as well as something I’m really looking forward now to exploring in even greater depth.

But the most interesting insight to come out of this process was that somehow in the past 25 years, the naive youthful idealism which initially called me into ministry has somehow been replaced by a wise and mature cynicism.

Not Realism.

Cynicism.

This was a big surprise for me, notwithstanding my admiration for the original Cynic, Diogenes of Sinope, and his 19th century imitator, Henry David Thoreau, who was sometimes known in his own day as “The Diogenes of Concord.”

H.L. Mencken once described cynics as people “who, when [they] smell flowers, start looking around for a coffin,” while an idealist is someone “who, on noticing that roses smell better than a cabbage, concludes that they will also make better soup.” I’ve certainly seen plenty of coffins in my time; it’s something that pretty much comes with the job. But I’ve never been tempted to make soup out of roses, even when I’ve bothered to take the time to smell them.

The word “cynic” in Greek means “dog;” and Diogenes once said that he was “called a dog because I fawn on those who give me anything, I yelp at those who refuse, and I set my teeth in rascals” (which doesn’t really sound like such a bad job description for a minister, actually). I once wrote an entire sermon about him, entitled “It’s a Dog’s Life;” and if you Google it you may even be able to find it somewhere on the web, since I’ve preached it in a lot of places over the years.

But today I want to go in a little different direction. You see, I don’t really mind the fact that my youthful naiveté has been replaced by a more mature wisdom. Ever since I was just a kid, I’ve always aspired to be “wise beyond my years,” and now apparently I don’t have to worry about it any more. But it bothers me a lot that my idealism has apparently gone missing along with my naiveté. Because I’m wise enough to know that you’re never too old to be an idealist...even if one has grown a little cynical about it as well.

Idealists are basically people for whom Ideas are somehow more real and important than “what is.” They are Dreamers, who are sometimes dismissed as “unrealistic,” but who are capable of imagining new possibilities rather than simply seeing only the limitations of our present reality, and whose vision is often essential to leading us forward to places we’ve never been before. And cynics, I’ve often thought, are only “wounded” idealists; individuals who have seen good ideas crash and burn so frequently and routinely that they’ve grown skeptical, disappointed, and discouraged, and perhaps lost confidence in the power of a dream.

Of course, that was before I discovered that I am a cynic myself. Now I’m not really sure what I think. But I still believe that if we can just find the courage to trust our guts and follow our hearts, they will eventually lead us to something new and amazing, even if we can’t really see it clearly at the moment.

There’s one more thing I’d like to talk about this morning, and then we can all go downstairs and celebrate my birthday together. But I used to think that parish ministry was all about skills and credentials -- what I Knew and what I could Do to lead a church, as an institution, closer to the fulfillment of its mission. But over the years I’ve come to see that ministry is really a lot more about a relationship with a group of people -- a congregation -- who “congregate” together around their minister in the hope of receiving both inspiration and guidance, and who are hopefully satisfied more often than they are disappointed. And let me tell you, this is a lot harder than simply earning a few college degrees and knowing the latest techniques for evangelism and stewardship (or what in the “real world” would be known as marketing and finance).

And yet. the things that make ministry most challenging are also ultimately what make it most rewarding. Ministry is about helping people to get to know themselves a little bit better, and then encouraging them to use that knowledge to follow their dreams, to help others as they have been helped, and to make the world a better place for everyone in the process. And in this respect, we ALL become ministers of this church, whenever we congregate here together to guide and inspire one another.

According to the experts who study these things, a “serviceable pastoral relationship” essentially embodies four qualities, which together make the relationship possible. No minister is ever going to meet all of the expectations of all of their parishioners, and anyone naively idealistic enough to try will find themselves cynics soon enough. But attention to these four qualities make a serviceable relationship possible, even when we take it for granted that the Perfect Pastor is simply a figment of our imaginations.

The first of these qualities is Personal Integrity. Integrity is basically a function of knowing your own limits, and remaining true to yourself...of recognizing the boundary where you leave off and another person begins, and respecting those boundaries rather than compromising them. A boundary is not always a barrier between two entities -- it is also the place where they meet and come together as neighbors. And like the lines down the center of a highway, clear and healthy boundaries delineate the spaces which allow us to function safely and effectively together as a community.

The second quality is Trustworthiness. No one can compel another person to trust them. But they can attempt to earn that trust, by endeavoring always to behave in a trustworthy manner. Mutual Trust is essential to a serviceable pastoral relationship -- because if you can’t trust your minister, who CAN you trust? Yet as we see so often in the news these days, not all ministers are always worthy of that trust; and from time to time every minister is only human (although generally not on purpose). Many people in this suspicious age of ours find it difficult to trust anyone at all, which makes the challenge of establishing trust sometimes seem all but impossible. But the commitment to behaving in a trustworthy manner at least opens the door, and invites the other person to step safely inside.

The third quality is Spiritual Authenticity. A long robe like this one will cover a multitude of sins, and this is generally considered a good thing, since none of us is perfect -- and ministers often feel like we have to give up a good deal of ourselves in order to truly BE a minister. But there also needs to be a real person underneath the robe, who can understand and empathize with the real life concerns of other real people.

We are all spiritual beings, whether we recognize it or not. We all have questions about matters great and small which we will never fully understand; we all wrestle with issues of value and meaning and purpose for which absolute certainty is simply a comforting delusion. But authentic comfort comes not so much from the quality of our answers, but from the sincerity with which we approach the questions. And this sincerity is the source of an authentic spirituality, which not only acknowledges the difficulty of the questions, but also accepts and embraces both our personal shortcomings and the limitations of our answers, and still retains the ability to live life in the midst of the uncertainties.

This brings me to the final quality, which is a Humble, Confident Authority. This is perhaps the most difficult and challenging thing on the list, which is why I left it for last. But let’s face facts. It takes a lot of chutzpah to stand up here Sunday after Sunday, 25-30 times a year, year after year, 575 times total in my lifetime (so far), on the arrogant assumption that one has something to say that is actually worth listening to.

And yet, I could not do this job at all without a profound sense of humility regarding my own inadequacy for the task. It is only by bringing these two things together that I can find my own, unique “authorial” voice -- that I can find the courage to “speak the truth in love” (according to my own best understanding of it), both in gratitude for the many blessings and opportunities and advantages I have received, and in a spirit of generosity which shares willingly and openly whatever small wisdom my maturity may have brought me.

These four qualities: Personal Integrity, Trustworthiness, Spiritual Authenticity, and a Humble, Confident Authority grounded in sentiments of Gratitude and Generosity, are what make a serviceable pastoral relationship possible. But I hope you’ve also realized by now that they are NOT reserved for clergy alone. Rather, they are the qualities which make relationships possible, and make congregations vital and dynamic; which allow us to create profoundly meaningful communities of faith, and which drive out cynicism and restore idealism in a world too often wounded by disappointment and failure, skepticism and discouragement, and which desperately needs to be reminded of the forgotten power of a shared dream.

These are some of the things that I have learned in the first half-century of my lifetime. And I hope to be able to go on preaching them for another twenty-five years....


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READING:

I have something a little unusual for the reading today. But this past week I received very lovely birthday cards from my parents, and I thought I’d share them with all of you this morning. I feel very fortunate that both of my parents are still living (although not with one another). My Dad, as many of you know, has remarried and lives in Sacramento California; while my Mom now lives right on the beach on Camano Island in Washington State, in the house my Grandmother built in the 1960’s to replace the one that had burned down during the Depression. And if Global Warming doesn’t get it first, I hope someday to live there too (in fact, you’ll hear a little in my mother’s card about the bulkhead between her house and the ocean).

But I do feel lucky, especially since I know so many people my own age (or even younger) who have already lost one or both of their parents...including a lot of people right here in this room. I attribute my own good fortune to good genes (which I hope I share), relatively clean living, and the fact that both my parents were still relatively young themselves when they became my parents. In fact, I’m told I was conceived during Finals Week of the Fall Semester of my mother’s Senior Year of college (which explains a lot, if you stop to think about it). In any event, I’ll begin with her card.


Dear Tim

So the big 50th birthday has arrived. When I got there, I thought the whole world would certainly stop in its tracks, but nothing at all changed. This was true of 60 + 70 as well, so I guess I’m pretty unimportant in the big scheme of things.

Hope your life is going well. I know you must be pretty busy with the start of the new church year. I enjoy your church bulletin. The church has lots of interesting things happening.

We have a higher dike now, and the new grass I planted up there is green and beautiful. Brian + Barbara + I all did the work at the same time. We were lucky with the weather -- Today is really the first cold + rainy day of autumn.

I’ve been talking to contractors about our bathroom remodel. It should be finished while I’m away for a quilting conference. May get up your way afterwards, if I can work it out. Love, Mom


Happy Birthday! Tim

I looked at all of the “50” cards and decided that they really aren’t “on target.” Turning 50 really isn’t funny and 50 isn’t really old. In fact, the way things have changed in recent years, I’m not so sure that the new cliché shouldn’t be “Life begins at 50.” Hopefully, by 50 one has all of the “stupid mistakes” they are going to make behind them and can focus on utilizing all of their meaningful experiences on having a healthy happy life. I certainly hope that is the case for you, because you have certainly “earned” the right to benefit in the future from all of the effort and hard work you have put in in the past.

I wish I had better words to express how proud I am of you and how much I love you! Dad.