“Unfathomable Mysteries”
by Reverend James Kubal-Komoto
Saltwater Unitarian Universalist Church
Des Moines, Washington
April 11, 2010

            Let me tell you a story this morning.

            One day a lay leader of the church comes to the minister’s office and says, “We need a new theme for this year’s stewardship campaign!”

            “Why do we need a new theme?” the minister asks.

            “Well, we need a new theme so we can convince our members to make a generous financial pledge to support the church during the coming fiscal year!”

            At this point, the minister thinks about a decision he made during his growing up years. His father was a real estate broker, and as a teenager, the minister decided that whatever he did in life, he didn’t want a job that had anything to do with dealing with money. He also now wonders what ever gave him the idea that ministers never had to deal with money.

            “Have our reasons for encouraging our members to make a generous financial pledge to support the church during the coming fiscal year changed since last year?” the minister asks, sighing.

            “Not really,” the lay leader says. “Are you saying we should just say the same things as last year? What did we say, by the way?”

            The minister pauses to think for a moment, wishing that he had a job that dealt with more tangible things, like say, selling shoes. Except for young children, you rarely have to convince people to wear shoes. You might sometimes have to convince people to buy new shoes or that one kind of shoe was better than another kind of shoes, but you rarely had to start at the very beginning, saying to some barefooted soul, no pun intended, who walked into a shoe store, “Have you ever considered wearing shoes for the comfort and protection of your feet?” If you ever did have to convince somebody to wear shoes, the minister also thinks to himself, you would probably only have to do it once, and not over and over again. Not every year.

            However, the minister had discovered that unlike shoes, which are very tangible things that you can hold in your hands, and count, and even put into boxes, his profession deals with very intangible things - - some of the unfathomable mysteries of life, such as the deepest yearnings of the human heart - - as well as more tangible things - - such as money and church budgets - - and that the challenge of his profession was often in helping people make the connection between the very intangible things and the very tangible things, but unlike, say, talking about shoes, to make this connection, you often had to start at the very beginning, and you had to make this connection over and over.

            “It’s like this,” the minister says to the lay leader. “You start out by talking about the yearnings within each of us.”

            “You want me to talk to people about the yearnings within each of us?” the lay leader asks, somewhat incredulously.

            “I’m talking about the yearning within each of us to live our lives as fully, deeply, richly, and abundantly as possible.”

            “Oh,” the lay leader says.

            This was a line the minister used a lot - - “to live as fully, deeply, richly, and abundantly as possible.” He used the line in almost every sermon he preached, and he wondered if members of his congregation were getting sick of it, thinking to themselves, “There he goes again, like a corrupted iPod file, talking about the human yearning ‘to live as fully, deeply, richly, and abundantly as possible.’” Nevertheless, it was what the minister believed.

            “Not only is there a yearning within us to live as fully, deeply, richly, and abundantly as possible, but more specifically,” the minister says, “there is a yearning within each of us for connection and meaning,” Actually, the minister thinks, the Unitarian Universalist theologian James Luther Adams had used the phrase “intimacy and ultimacy” but “connection and meaning” is a simpler and easier phrase to remember..

            “Connection and meaning?” the lay leader asks..

            “Yes,” the minister says. “We yearn to be connected with our deepest selves, with one another, with the wider society, with nature, and with the mystery and miracle of the universe itself, and we want to discover what meaning our lives might have within the vast scheme of things.”

            “However, for whatever reason,” the minister says, “our society at large doesn’t do a very good job in helping us living with connection and meaning. The society in which we live - - while not all bad - - mostly encourages us to pursue things that turn out to be ultimately unfulfilling.”

            “Like that sermon you gave on the Five Ps - - power, profit, prestige, possessions, and pleasure?” the lay leader asks.

            “Yes,” the minster says, somewhat shocked that the lay leader remembers that sermon, which was a few years ago. When the minister first became a minister what worried him most was that nobody was listening to what he said. What worries him more now is that people actually do listen to and remember what he says and  sometime make important decisions based on what he says. This sometime keeps him up on Saturday nights.

            “Of course,” the minister says, “more and more people these days just try to do everything by themselves, but many of us still seek out others in our quest to live more fully, deeply, richly, and abundantly than we might otherwise, this task of seeking to live with more connection and meaning, and this is why we have religious communities.”

            “You mean not just Unitarian Universalists, but Hindus, Buddhists, Taoists, Jews, Christians, Muslims, and even Wiccans too?” the lay leader asks.

            “The hunger,” the minister says, “that brings different people to different religious communities is the same,” the minister says. “The difference is the kind of food those religious communities serve to try and satisfy that hunger.”

            “I guess that’s why I’m a Unitarian Universalist,” the lay leader says, “because a lot of that other food gives me heartburn and gas.”

            “Uh, yeah…but it’s in trying to fill that hunger people have, that yearning people have to live more fully, richly, deeply, and abundantly than they might otherwise that we engage in the five tasks of ministry.”

            “There are five?” the lay leader asks.

            “We welcome one another and those others who may be seeking a liberal religious home. We also worship together. We learn together. We experience community together, not only having fun together but taking care of each other during difficult times. We also work together to serve the wider world,” the minister says.

            “So welcoming, worshipping, learning, experiencing community, and serving?”

            “It’s what a church is all about.”

            “So we welcome, worship, learn, care and serve together in order to help each other live with more connection and meaning, so we can live more fully, deeply, richly, and abundantly than we might otherwise?”

            “That’s it.”

            “And the more generously our members pledge, the better we can do this?”

            “That’s it, along with the rest, which you probably already know.”

            “You mean that to do this, we need an organizational structure, such as boards, committees, teams, and volunteers, which requires lots of people to volunteer time, but that we also need a minister, a staff, a building, and other things, and all of these things cost money, a little bit more than $200,000 a year, most of which comes from pledges?”

            “That’s it.”

            “And we also want to make sure we’re paying our staff fairly,” the lay leader says.

            The minister pauses to think for a moment. Last year, the minister confessed to the members of his congregation that they weren’t quite paying him enough to pay all of his bills, and because of that, he had to make extra money as a freelance wedding officiant, officiating between 20 and 30 weddings a year.

            After that, the board voted to give the minister enough of a raise so that now he doesn’t need to do as many freelance weddings. He still does a few. After all, weddings provide great sermon material. He still remembers the wedding when all the bridesmaids got liquored up a little too much before the ceremony and one of them got her tongue stuck on the ice sculpture of Michael Angelo’s David.

            Mostly, though, when couples outside the church call him now, he asks gently, “Have you considered just living in sin?”

            This means he’s gotten to spend more of his free time with his wife and son, and for the first time in several years, he hasn’t wondered whether he was sacrificing his family’s well-being for the church’s well being. He wonders if the members of the congregation know how truly grateful he is for this, which was only possible because of their generosity last year.

            Of course, he still worries about the staff, because he knows they’re still being paid a little less than they should be according to his denomination’s fair compensation guidelines.

            He feels so lucky to have the staff that he does. The music director is one of the most amazingly talented individuals he has ever known, capable of doing seemingly anything, and the choir director does an incredible job of helping the choir sing pieces in a variety of styles. He also does such a good job of getting such a big sound out of a relatively small number of people. Sometimes the minister closes his eyes and it sounds like twice as many people singing. The minister occasionally listens in to choir rehearsals, and he also likes the fact that the choir director talks about singing in the choir as an expression of spirituality and as a form of ministry to the congregation.

            Then there’s the Director of Family Ministries. He likes her so much, and she’s doing such a good job. He likes the fact that she grew up as a Unitarian Universalist and brings that perspective to her work. She works so well with adults, youth, and children - - which is a rare combination - - probably because she has such a calming presence. The minister wonders, “Does the congregation realize how hard she has worked to make sure we had classes at both services for the first time this year and what a huge step that was for us?”

            Of course, the church administrator is the person who has been with the congregation the longest - - longer than the minister even, though many members of the congregation never see her because she’s only at the church office during the week. The minister has told her over and over again not to take work home, only to work the number of hours she’s being paid to work, but he knows she still does. He’d like to increase her paid hours by at least a few hours each week.

            The minister knows that when he talks to his colleagues, ministers at other churches, they sometimes get jealous when he tells them about his staff.  Because the minister hears a lot about other churches - - some real horror stories - - he knows what a wonderful staff he has, but he wonders, does the congregation really get what a talented and dedicated staff it has?

            “Yes,” the minister says, responding to the lay leader, “We want to make sure to pay our staff fairly.”

            “Of course, we want to make sure to take good care of our building and grounds too,” the lay leader says.

            The minister pauses for a moment to think again, reflecting on his love/hate relationship with the church building. He wonders how many members of his congregation know that the 50^th anniversary of the first service held in the sanctuary will be on September 12 this year.

            The sanctuary certainly looks a lot better than when he first came to the church 10 years ago, he thinks. The congregation sat facing a wall instead of the window, and there were ugly acoustic tiles on the walls and ugly, old tiles on the floor instead of carpeting. The only carpeting was the long brown shag carpeting covering the platform. Being in the sanctuary felt more like being at a community rec center than in a worship space.

            Never mind the women’s restroom, which made one feel like one was visiting a former Soviet republic.

            And thank goodness there was enough money in the budget this year to re-gravel the parking lot, the minister thinks to himself, because there were enough ruts and wholes out there to stop a run-way Prius.

            Because of the past generosity and hard work of so many members of the congregation, the minister thinks, both the building and the grounds feel more like a space that nurture the spirit.

            If there is enough money in the coming year, the minister thinks, he would love to knock down the wall between the Welcoming Room and the Meeting Room to make the Welcoming Room bigger because he knows that that some people never stay after the service because the Welcoming Room feels too crowded and noisy, though he doesn’t know folks would feel about this change, so he really hasn’t mentioned that idea to anybody yet.

            Of course one day, the congregation might decide to tear it all down and build a new building. When would that be? Five years from now? Ten years from now? The minister doesn’t know. The magic number is 180. When the average adult attendance at both services regularly starts getting close to 180, it’s time to start talking about a new building. It was 127 last Sunday, and that was Easter. The minister doesn’t pray about too many things, but he prays that the roof and furnaces last that long.

            “Yes,” the minister says, responding to the lay leader, “We want to make sure to take good care of our building and grounds too.”

            “There’s also all the other things we have to spend money on,” the lay leader says.

            Too many to keep track of, the minister thinks to himself. He wonders how many people know that each candle of joy or sorrow costs the congregation 38 cents. If members of the congregation knew, would they pledge more or light fewer candles about inconsequential things? Neither outcome would be bad, he thinks. Maybe it would be a good idea to tell them, he thinks.

            The minister has seen fat year and lean years with this congregation. Well, never really fat years, but years when everybody didn’t have to watch every penny, when there was enough money in the budget to have some guest musicians every once in a while, to have an outside speaker for an adult religious education class, and do other things too.

            Last year was a good year, the minister thinks.

            He is especially proud of his congregation because of this. Last year, during one of the worst years economically in the history of the United Stated, when other congregations had to freeze salaries and lay off staffs, his congregation had its most successful stewardship campaign ever. He’s proud of them because they believed in themselves and the worth of what they were all doing together.

            Because of that generosity, the church has been able to continue to grow, and there are a lot of new faces around the church, which is wonderful to see.

            There was even some money in the budget for more outreach, to reach out to other people in South King County who would love to find a liberal religious home, but have never even heard of Unitarian Universalism. The minister grew up three miles from a Unitarian Universalist congregation, but his family never heard about it until the minister was in his early 20s, so outreach is important to the minister.

            Some of that outreach money, the minister remembers, is being spent on projects that are still in the works that the congregation doesn’t even know about yet, like a new banner for the building that people will be able to see from the street. The minister has also created a book and a DVD to help members of the congregation learn how to talk about Unitarian Universalism with one another, with their children, and with others. He wonders when he will tell the congregation about the DVD and book. Probably after the stewardship campaign, he thinks.

            “Yes” the minister says, responding to the lay leader, “there are lots of other expenses too, but don’t get bogged down in the details,” the minister says.

            “So,” the lay leader says, “you want me to tell them to make a generous financial pledge to the church so that we can pay our staff fairly, so we can take care of our buildings and grounds, and so we can continue to do our best at welcoming, worshipping, learning, experiencing community, and serving, so that we can help each other live with more connection and meaning, so we can live more fully, deeply, richly, and abundantly than we might otherwise?”

            “That’s it.”

            “And you want me to tell everybody the more generous they are, the better we can do all those things, and it’s really worth it?”

            The minister pauses to think again.

            Not too long ago, the minister was driving home. It was late at night, past 10 p.m., and he’d been at church since that morning and he was tired, but on his way home, he stopped his car in the parking lot across from the Redondo boardwalk, got out of his car, crossed the street, walked out on the fishing pier, and listened to the waves for a while. He sometimes does this when he just wants to think about something, especially when he starts to question whether he really believes everything he says about the church, all this talk about helping people “live more fully, deeply, richly and abundantly” and whether all the time, effort, and money are really worth it - - his and everybody else’s.

            That night, there had been a Chalice Circle at the church, and as people were coming out of the Chalice Circle and putting on their coats, the minister saw one person give another person a hug, saying, “You’ll be in my thoughts,” and the person getting hugged saying, “Thank you. That means a lot to me. I’m glad I came tonight. I’m glad I found this church.”

            He doesn’t know why this happened. He could only imagine. But witnessing this helped him to believe his own words again.

            “Yes,” he says, responding to the lay leader, “tell them it’s really worth it.”

            “I’ll tell them,” the lay leader says.

            “Good luck,” the minister says. “They’re a pretty tough crowd.”