Jill McAllister

I caught my breath and sighed deeply at the news of the death of Pope Francis this week, another seismic change in the world.  Then I picked up a book I very recently received – his autobiography, published only a few months ago, titled “Hope.”  Day by day I have begun to read it, as I consider both the gifts of Christianity and its horrible perversions.  We are living in this country with the perversions, writ large.   Pope Francis had a much different perspective.

This is what he said in the introduction:  “People often say ‘wait and hope’ – so much so that the word esperar in Spanish means both ‘to hope’ and ‘to wait’ – but hope is above all the virtue of movement and the engine of change. It’s the tension that brings together memory and utopia to truly build the dreams that await us. And if a dream fades we need to go back and dream it again, in new forms, drawing with hope from the embers of memory.”  

Last Sunday we heard similar perspectives from climate activists such as Ayana Elizabeth Johnson, Terry Tempest Williams, Leah Penniman, and more. Hope is the motion, the movement, that keeps us aiming and working for our highest goals.  Even when we think all is lost.  Love is the motivation.  

I also received this quote from the writings of Tennessee Williams this week, with gratitude:  “This world is violent and mercurial – it will have its way with you.  We are saved by love – love for each other and the love that we pour into the art we feel compelled to share; being a parent, being a writer, being a painter, being a friend.  We live in a perpetually burning building, and what we must save from it, all the time, is love.”         

In these days of growing authoritarianism and oligarchy in the United States, these days in which we are living, it is important to name both the dangers and our commitments.  The values we hold in common are all at stake.   Love, and Justice, Equity and Transformation, Pluralism, Interdependence and Generosity are all at stake.  It is important to renew and restate our commitment to our Covenant of Right Relations, to being welcoming and affirming especially to those who are most in danger, to speak up and speak out against all threats to humans, to humanity, and to all of Life.  When we gather on Sundays, let’s remember that it is to encourage and strengthen one another, and to comfort those in most need.  We must maintain our dignity and humanity – our ability to laugh and sing and be joyful – at the same time that we become more vigilant and articulate about our values. 

These are days when community deepens into creating safety and solidarity, and growing our skills for both. 

These are the days of our lives!  Can you hear the Earth calling?  Can you hear the call of Love? 

The date for my retirement has been set:  Sunday July 13 will be my last day.  The Committee on Ministry, the Board and others are beginning to plan several events during which we can reminisce, remember, and celebrate our shared ministry.   A tentative plan includes a Friday evening gathering on July 11 – probably with a “Roast and Toast the Minister” theme, a Saturday picnic for all ages – at the Fellowship on July 12, and a final Sunday service July 13.  There will be music at all the events – involving beloved UUFC musicians and friends.  If you’d like to join in some of the planning for these events, please let Sonia know at office@uucorvallis.org. 

Between now and then we still have time to do much together, and we need to become more intentional about being in this transition and saying goodbye.  As I say this, I feel sadness welling up! Sometimes it is really hard to say goodbye, to move to new places, to start new ways.  All of us know that.  So we’re in this together.

Three months is a good long time to do lots of talking.  I have a need to answer as many questions and concerns as possible, especially about all the things I do.  I imagine making list after list, documenting everything – but that is probably not realistic (because I’m not a good detail person).   I’ll do what I can, and I’ll depend on many of you to help by asking questions, creating lists and more.  Already many of you are in that process, which is helping me remember that I can’t do it alone and I’m not doing it alone. 

At the same time we are all working hard to keep our balance, find our footing, hone our priorities for how to live in this country at this time and how to keep the ideals of a just, peaceful and loving community alive and well.  In other words, we are called to live our religious live with more courage and intention than most of us have ever known.  For the fact that we are doing all of these things together – I am grateful!

This beautiful spring!  Days of looking through blooming trees at lingering snow on Mary’s Peak. Days of rain and hail, daffodils now fading and tulips beginning to bloom.  And, this struggling world!  Days of horror and cruelty, of war and destruction, of juvenile incompetent insane leadership.  “This being human is a guesthouse,” Rumi said.  All of the unexpected visitors – the joys and the sorrows, the beautiful and the horrible – let them all in, he said.  (Because there is always something to learn).  I’ve long appreciated these sentiments, but now – they feel a little too sentimental.  This house is on fire, and has been for some time.  Everything is at risk, including ourselves.  Including our humanity.

Where we are today is in the position of taking stock of our humanity.  (Thank-you Cory Booker!) Of letting go of our attachments to things and habits which kept us merely entertained and distracted.  If there is love, if there is justice, if there is compassion and peace, these things live through us and must be our focus now.  To be a covenantal community means to make these truly our highest ideals.  There is in fact much to learn.  That is what we are doing together.

All of the changes happening in the Fellowship – the renewal of our building, the coming changes in leadership at the Annual meeting, the re-imagining of our justice work, our continual welcoming of newcomers, our work on strategic planning for the grounds, my coming retirement and the beginning of interim and new ministries – these are all part of the learning and of the focusing of our energies.  It’s hard some days, even harder on others, and also life-giving in many ways.   For the changes we must be part of, we are just beginning to prepare.  Stay with us, keep coming!  May we each be a blessing to each other and the world. 

Last Sunday I mentioned the need to “practice practicing practices” – which means to cultivate small rituals to help keep ourselves steady amidst the daily tumult of our lives, our times.  Three years ago, at just this time of year, I was also pondering the need for steadiness, as part of the Daily Practice ritual we shared.  Here is what I wrote: 

Good morning friends – A month of days comes to an end – an arbitrary designation like all the rest – yet a way to mark what we call time, part of our constant need to understand.  (So often, by giving something a name, we think we understand what it is).  Everything moves – breath, wind, cells, clouds, sun, moon, water, thoughts, everything is in motion.  Perhaps this daily practice – this being present to breath as it releases and returns – is a small way to momentarily exist beyond names, beyond descriptions – many of which are more imagination than approximation.  

I look again at the candle flickering beside me, and feel my breath again.  My mother is ailing – first news of the day. My granddaughter was up early, in full conversation with the morning light.  Spring continues to unfold.  War continues to pound and destroy.  All women – across a huge continuum of bodies – have in common the dangers of patriarchy. What we call March has been full of these constantly moving and intertwining currents and truths and moments. 

I return again to the candle, and let myself feel the calming breath. I have been carrying a question from yesterday, or it has been carrying me? It asked me “how much joy am I allowed?”  Today I have a sense that though it appeared as a question, it was more of a reminder, for joy is essential.  It is not the same as pleasure – for pleasure can come at the expense of others.  It is not the same as happiness.  It is not found in denial or aversion or in trying to forget. Maybe it comes mostly in gratitude, or perhaps always in the presence of gratitude.  Likely, joy is always present, beyond naming and expectations. Not to be achieved or attained by certain ways of living, but the living itself.  

This candle is still beside me.  In its light I pause again and let myself be breathed. A day, a month of days, a moment, joy and gratitude – Life, moving.    And I’m sending love to you all —  Jill