From the Minister

Thank-you to the many of you who have reached out with such kind and supportive words in response to the announcement of my coming retirement this summer. Now, in addition to the so many changes happening in the country and world, we also enter into a ministerial transition for the Fellowship. I hope this timing will in some ways be helpful for us all – we’ll need to focus on the strengths of our relationships and our shared commitments at a time when those are what’s most needed for us to face the world as well.

With the Board and the Committee on Ministry, I plan to be part of as many conversations as possible, with all who want to join in. While we figure out how to be present to the coming changes in our country and community, we’ll also be figuring out how to keep the Fellowship strong and capable and effective. That means keeping ourselves strong and capable and effective, because the Fellowship is only us – the people, who gather. And to be all those things we need to help and care for each other, and be helped and cared for.

Meanwhile, this week, the day of national change arrives. There are opportunities to gather – on Sunday night Jan. 19 at 7 PM to sing with Mark Weiss, Audrey Perkins and Cliff and Chere Pereira, and on Tuesday evening Jan. 21, at 6:30 PM on zoom to reflect together. How shall we live now? One day at a time, and in the service of our highest ideals. Let’s keep going.

In these winter days, which seem filled with catastrophes, there are also invitations. The invitations can be subtle, often silent, mostly missed while we’re hoping for something else. (That’s the thing to be aware of – we’re almost always hoping for something else.) Some of the invitations are always present: the invitation into silence, the invitation to trust, the invitation to be faithful, the invitation to live by generosity. Though always present, these invitations are particularly poignant in these hard days, it seems to me.

Some invitations are more particular to this season: the invitations of darkness and rest and remembering the gifts of cold and rain. The invitation to learn the lessons of fog and to hear messages in the calls of owls and the encouraging honking of geese. And what is an invitation? Maybe it’s a kind of greeting, sometimes a beckoning, like the slight opening of a door with some light shining through. An invitation can be a small voice speaking from your own understanding – from your own ideals, from a conviction you haven’t forgotten – not shouting (usually not), not criticizing, mostly trying to be kind.

The thing is, we’re always hoping for invitations, wishing to receive them, imagining the joy of an unexpected offer to join, to be seen, to be needed, or simply to come a little farther. And yet we miss so many that are present and calling, day after day.

Today, perhaps we can help ourselves by taking time to be quiet enough to imagine, and perhaps begin to hear, the voices of kindness and courage within us. Maybe we can close our eyes and relax into our breathing and begin to be aware of doors that are ready to be considered, possibly half-opened already, inviting us into places the world needs us to go.

I wrote this piece two years ago, at this exact time of year. It is helpful to me to re-read it. May it be helpful to you as well, in these early days of January 2025.

Years ago, I always started the morning listening to news. It seemed then the most prudent thing to do –- to know what was happening. It helped me feel secure in some way, and smart, and capable, as if it was a necessity for navigating the world, and for being recognized as an adult. Somewhere along the way, I stopped listening – I don’t remember exactly when or why. In some way I realized that “the news” was always the same – it was a very very small representation of what humans were doing from day to day. It was never the whole story.

Slowly I came to understand that there is news beyond the news – news before the news – that is much more important for me. It is the daily recognition of being alive and of being part of an infinite web of life. It is the daily presence of awareness, and an awareness of presence, which coincide with gratitude.

The news of the day in early January often begins with this: the tops of the hills are appearing and disappearing as clouds and fog slowly drift. There is a pink tinge above and suddenly a huge flock of geese in several interchanging “V”s moving across. Small patches of blue sky, and the bare branches of trees in clear and intricate detail. The tops of the hills appear again and both gold and pink light emerge in the fog around them. The air is cold and clean and heavily moist. It is within me and around me, in constant life-giving motion. I am breathing, being breathed, and amazed again to be both here and now.

Thomas Merton once wrote “You do not need to know precisely what is happening, or exactly where it is all going. What you need is to recognize the possibilities and challenges offered by the present moment, and to embrace them with courage, faith and hope.” Embrace is the appropriate word for me this morning – and there is too much for my small embrace, but I open my arms wide nonetheless. With courage, faith and hope comes joy. And that’s more than enough news.

The feeling that is most with me in the midst of these holidays/holy days is to be careful. To be full of care. This is most certainly not a time to be frivolous, yet it is a time to nurture joy. How can we do both? By being full of care as we consider what is most important and what is not. Care for the earth, care for people everywhere, care for all the other living things. Care reflected in what we buy, what we waste, what we kill or destroy in the process, what we consume at the expense of others. What gifts can we give, when so many are in need of the basics – beginning with safety and shelter? Maybe this year, in this season we might begin to understand that joy is related to what we are willing and able to take care of, to give care to. In the beautiful darkness of these solstice days, with Christmas coming, may we give attention to what we care for and why, and move ourselves toward a loving carefulness.

As the world turns (wasn’t that the name of a soap opera many years ago?) we still live day by day, and work on the things that are right in front of us most of the time. At the Fellowship, this weekend we are enjoying our annual December Holiday Fair, and planning many ways to gather this month to observe and celebrate holidays, holy days and the turning of the year.

Meanwhile, the classroom wing is filled with boxes and comings and goings as we get ready to empty that part of the building so that it can be repaired, renovated and renewed. This will be a big effort, as you can imagine, and will need many hands. If you haven’t already, please see the Announcement titled ‘Classroom Wing Renovation Begins in January,’ and sign-up to help in one of the listed ways. Or, talk to a member of the Building Expansion Project team in person this Sunday about how you can help.

All activities which regularly meet in the classroom wing will move to other locations in the building (or offsite) beginning after Christmas, and the classroom wing will be closed by January 1. If you have questions about where your group will meet, please ask me or office volunteer Priscilla Galasso.

Every Sunday we go back out into the world with a renewed intention to stay aware of the way things truly are. To cultivate this awareness, within us and around us, is a path of learning to feel how things are happening in many directions at one time. Life, a day, a moment, is not merely either /or. In every moment there is yes and no, good and evil, pain and joy, past and future. From a Taoist perspective this is recognition of polarities. In yoga, this is learning to feel energy moving in opposite directions at the same time. Not to choose one side, one view, one position, one direction, but instead to feel where the sides, views, positions, directions meet and how they are related to each other. It’s not easy. Sometimes it is a luxury. Often it seems impossible. In a hurricane, it may be improbable or feel impossible to move to the center, the calm eye of the storm, and yet the calm center exists as much as the storm does. From the safety of the calm center, one cannot deny the destructive power of the storm all around.

Yes and no, good and evil, pain and joy, past and future. Whether we know it or not, see it or not, this is always where we begin when we pause to become aware of our breath. The breath itself is a guide. It can never go in only one direction – a whole breath is always made of in and out. Once again, may we allow ourselves to settle into the motion of our breath, the motion of Life as it lives through us, the stillness of resting within the motion. May we become aware enough of this motion, of its necessity, that the only thing we can do is give thanks. May we begin the day in gratitude – in calm awareness, in rest, and with thanks.

Sending love to you all – Jill

Was that the first light dusting of snow on Mary’s Peak this morning? I stared at it for a good long while before heading out to walk and check on the maples of the neighborhood, now flaming red and gold. In the afternoon, the slant of the autumn sun outlined the coast range as beautiful clouds continued to shift and move in the blue sky. Later as I drove to join a small group to honor and celebrate a wedding (the joy!) the Beaver Moon – last super moon of this year – was rising, huge and round in the eastern sky. My Christmas cactus – a cutting from an old friend now gone, is blooming today. More beauty than one can really understand, all in the space of a day.

Through this week I have watched and listened to many of you, with abiding thanks. Some are focused on helping others who really need help; some feel an edge – a need to fight where needed; some are not feeling so well; some are planning next steps and forward movement; most of us have moments of shock and disbelief and genuine fear for our country, and in my opinion those moments are more than justified.

In all of these ways – the beauty, the adjusting, the wondering, the helping and the fear – in all of these ways we are being called to be present – to keep alert to what is true within us and around us. We are given gifts, we are called to continue working, we are needed. It is in and through our all these parts of our lives that love becomes real in the world. Let’s keep going together, step by step.