What Are We Building Towards?

February 4, 2007

Rev. Anthony David

I’ll start today’s sermon by invoking the great spirit of Helen Keller, that hero of the 20^th century who defied the limitations of her combined blindness and deafness to serve the larger world and change lives. She once said this: “The most pathetic person in the world is someone who has sight but no vision.” Helen Keller knew this in a particularly powerful and poignant way, and my hope today is that we might know this as well, especially as we start thinking about our future as a church and ask the crucial question, “What are we building towards?”

So a key distinction before us is sight vs. vision, and to help illustrate the difference between the two, I want to draw on the following story, about a mother and her nine-year-old son, Steven. They were at a grand concert hall, black tuxedos and long evening dresses everywhere, a high society extravaganza. Paderewski, the famous composer-pianist, was scheduled to perform, and Steven’s mother had hopes that her son would be encouraged to play the piano if he could just hear the immortal Paderewski at the keyboard.

Almost as soon as they were seated, the boy was fidgety and in fact found himself strangely drawn to the grand Steinway piano and its leather tufted stool on the huge stage flooded with light. It fascinated him. He wanted it. And so, as his mother was immersed in conversation with friends, he managed to slip away. Unnoticed by her and by the larger audience, the boy found his way onto the stage and sat down at the stool, staring wide-eyed at the black and white keys. Then he placed his small, trembling fingers on them and began to play “Chopsticks.” At this, hundreds of heads turned. The buzzing crowd—hushed. Faces turned to him, frowning in confusion, then outrage. Soon they began to shout, “Get that boy away from there!” “Somebody stop him!” And, “Steven, get down from there this instant!”

Now it just so happened that backstage, the great Paderewski could hear all this and was able to put together in his mind what was going on. Hurriedly, he grabbed his coat and rushed onto the stage, towards the boy. Without one word of announcement he stooped over behind the boy, reached around both sides, and began to improvise a countermelody to harmonize with and enhance “Chopsticks.” As the two of them played together, Paderewski whispered this into the boy’s ear: “Keep going. Don’t quit. Keep on playing….don’t stop…don’t quit.”

And that is our story today, about the difference between sight and vision—a story that can help us frame and put into perspective the visioning process that our Board of Trustees is sponsoring, called “Dreamcatchers,” starting at the end of this month. Between now and then, I hope this story will stir up good things so that every member and friend participates in the process wholeheartedly and with genuine sense of enthusiasm and urgency. 

Let’s start with the figure of the nine-year-old boy Steven. He’s so young; he’s just getting started in his life. So many as yet unknown potentials within him—and his mother is anxious to prime the pump, create a circumstance in which one or more of his potentials might bob up to the surface and be known. And one does: Steven experiences it through his fidgetyness—his body is telling him what to do before his mind can understand. He sees the flood-lit stage, the fancy leather stool, the grand piano, and before he can understand the larger implications of what he is about, his body moves him onstage, to the piano, and his fingers play among the beautiful black and white keys, and they are playing as best as they know how. They are playing “Chopsticks,” and it is a joy to him, although to everyone else in the theater, it comes as a shock because … he is not the immortal Paderewski.     

This is the boy, Steven, and he is Pathways Church. Perhaps he is every church in its beginning, as well as every established church that finds itself facing a changed phase of existence. First there is a fidgetyness. For Pathways Church, this fidgetyness was in the heart of people like Kristin Robertson, who was impatient for there to be a church in Northeast Tarrant County which proclaimed a gospel of spiritual inclusivity and depth. Then there was fidgetyness in the heart of Unitarian Universalist leaders, both national and local, for there to be a church that from day one was innovative and expansive and aimed to be a new kind of Unitarian Universalist church. Pathways Church started out as fidgetyness in the hearts of many—including this church’s first minister, me, who came straight out of seminary agreeing with Kristin and agreeing with national and local Unitarian Universalist leaders and also this: committed to creating a spiritual community that changes lives. Changed lives that change the world.

All of us, fidgety. And so, after I was hired in July 2003, exploratory meetings started soon afterwards, small groups started to form in February of 2004, worship started as once-a-month Saturday night experiences—and all of this represented increasing and increasing fidgetyness until it culminated in our first Sunday morning worship experience, on Sept 19, 2004. Suddenly Pathways Church was above radar, upon the flood-lit stage of Northeast Tarrant County, seated on the leather tufted stool, fingers at play among the beautiful black and white grand piano keys, playing our “Chopsticks”—all of it, before we really knew what we were doing.  

And now, a little more than two years after our first Sunday worship, almost four years since my hire, we are still just getting started in our collective life. Our yearning to become a beloved community has risen up from the deep well of our collective potential, and it is just starting to be known. We are just starting to experience the power of living in a covenantal relationship with each other and with the Sacred, in which we promise to search for the Truth with all our hearts and all our souls and all our minds and to speak and share this Truth in mutual respect and love; and when this doesn’t happen—when someone speaks their Truth in a way that ridicules and mocks—we are just starting to experience the power of our covenant, which calls us to take broken relationships seriously and to heal them, to see this as a prime opportunity for spiritual growth and deepening. Our covenant says, You want to grow as a person? Then when the Truth is not spoken in love, when conflict happens, don’t run away, and don’t come out with guns blazing, but be curious instead, find out where people are coming from, find out where you are coming from, listen to yourself and to each other, work within healthy boundaries, be peacemakers, let peace begin here and now, with me…. Churches that organize around creeds are different story; our story, as a church that organizes around a covenant of love and justice, has a precious power that frees us to discern the Spirit in our lives in a way that has integrity and authenticity—and it also holds us accountable to live in right relationships with each other, so that when they aren’t right, we work to make them right.

In all this, we are just getting started. We are just a little more than two years old, if we regard as our official birthdate our first Sunday morning worship service. Although I do want to point out that, relative to other Unitarian Universalist churches our age, we are farther along in that we’ve already done great work around defining our growth pattern, our DNA. We already know that, by all that we do, we want to encourage spiritual growth, create radical hospitality, build healthy relationships, share our financial resources, recognize and use our talents, tell the Pathways story to people searching for what we have, make a difference in the larger world, and also this: walk our talk. Not just say, but also do. This what we’ve decided on, and know.

Which takes us to the part in our story where the young boy Steven is blissed out at the grand piano, playing “Chopsticks” with all his heart, and all of a sudden, hundreds of heads swivel his way, frowning in confusion, then outrage. Soon they begin to shout, “Get that boy away from there!” “Somebody stop him!” And, “Steven, get down from there this instant!”

Let me ask you plainly: has anything happened at Pathways Church that has disappointed you? Or has not lived up to our DNA?

Perhaps you find yourself personally invested in Pathways, in the way that Steven’s mother was invested in Steven. And so when Pathways surprises you and lets its light shine in a time and a place and a way that is not of your own choosing, you are embarrassed. “Steven, get down from there this instant!” After all, what will people say? Can you think of a time when Pathways has let its light shine, and while this expressed who we are as a church that welcomes people regardless of whether they believe in God or not, or whether they draw from Judaism or Taoism or Paganism, or whether they are Republicans or Democrats, or whether they are gay or straight—despite this, you still found yourself wondering, What will other people say?

This can be a source of disappointment, and so can the experience of being a volunteer and leader in our developing organization. The workplace aspect of our congregation is still in formation—it’s definitely strong, and definitely good, but there are times when things are fuzzy: when it’s unclear who is to be the “decider” on something, or how the different teams and committees among us can coordinate more effectively, or how to establish continuity and order without becoming inflexible. Growing pains. Then there is the frustration of big picture people who are sometimes challenged to do busy work, as well as action-let’s-get-r-done people who are sometimes challenged to stand back and think and envision and plan before they act. More growing pains. Finally, there is the frustration of too few people doing too many things, and so the continuing challenge of inspiring an every-member ministry culture in which each and every member and friend of Pathways takes personal responsibility for helping grow this church, in small ways and in large. Related to this is the challenge of filling major leadership roles, like that of the Board of Trustees, with people who have the requisite experience and skills and above all, this: so much love for the mission of Pathways Church changing lives that they are willing to risk being imbalanced in their lives for a time to help Pathways grow, to help that boy at the piano playing Chopsticks develop his skills and go on to play pieces that spread greater beauty and magic in this world.

All of these things I’m talking about: growing pains. And I’m acknowledging it all plainly, without any desire to sweep it under the rug. Pathways Church is just getting started. It is out there, on the flood-lit stage, sitting on the tufted leather stool, playing “Chopsticks”—and the gaps and growing pains are evident for all to hear and see.

But then there is Helen Keller’s wonderful saying: “The most pathetic person in the world is someone who has sight but no vision.” The word pathetic means “capable of arousing scornful pity,” and this is what I feel when I follow the story of Steven and hear how the audience responds to him. I feel pity for these people because they can’t see beyond what’s in front of their noses, and I feel scorn for them because they are actively preventing the blossoming of new talent in this world. Steven may very well turn out to be the next famous composer-pianist Paderewski, but the limit of the audience’s vision becomes the limit of their world and also threatens to limit the kind of world that Steven can imagine for himself. That’s what makes me angry. Small people can only see small things, and they actively conspire to break down the big things around them to make them small, and so in the end: they never fail to have something to complain about. That’s pathetic.

There is a powerful difference between sight and vision. The people in the audience see a boy who is just getting started, and they see every weakness and flaw, and that’s all they ever see. But then there are people like the great Paderewski. God bless the people in our lives who are like Paderewski. Paderewski has vision. He sees everything that the audience sees with their physical eyes, but he also sees with compassionate memory and with heart-felt anticipation. Vision is physical sight, enhanced by both memory and anticipation. 

We know what Paderewski did in the story. When he found out how the audience was just about to crush that boy with all their shouts and declamations, Paderewski hurried. A future was at stake. So he went directly to that boy, and note how he met him at his level, how the great Paderewski descended to play “Chopsticks” with the boy, so that together they could ascend to a slightly higher degree of musical quality. And then he verbally encouraged that boy, gave him a mantra to repeat and repeat to himself, especially in the face of people who want him to quit, who don’t support him. “Keep going. Don’t quit. Keep on playing….don’t stop…don’t quit.”

All of this is remarkable, and all of it happened because Paderewski was a person of genuine vision. Vision is physical sight, enhanced by both compassionate memory and heart-felt anticipation. It means that when Paderewski saw that boy, he remembered what it was like for himself when he was a boy, the fidgetyness that was in him, to get up on a flood-lit stage and play. He remembered the joy of playing the piano, as well as the pain of some people not being able to appreciate him and even trying to break him down. He remembers how much was at stake, and how at times things could have gone either way, and it fills him with urgency. He’s not going to take his time dressing backstage. An artistic life is on the line.

This is what compassionate memory brings to Paderewski’s mind, and then, as he looks upon Steven playing Chopsticks on the concert grand piano, heart-felt anticipation projects what’s possible for Steven’s future. Not necessarily the future 20 to 50 years hence, when Steven may very well be the Paderewski of his generation, but how about three to ten years in the future? What matters is that Steven is helped to find the next artistic step in his path, and then the next step, and the next. Paderewski did not sit beside Steven and play a complex piece that only an expert could play, as if to say to Steven, Keep on playing, and look what you might accomplish some day! That would not have been helpful. Instead, Paderewski met Steven where he was—he played more “Chopsticks,” but with a twist, at a slightly higher degree of difficulty, something for Steven to reach for. It’s step by step by step. It’s doing one thing and learning how to do it very well, then moving on. Not trying to do everything and doing all of it poorly, but doing only a few things, and doing them very well.

All of this is grist for the mill of the visioning process coming up at the end of the month, which the Board of Trustees is leading. Essentially, the Board wants to invite all members and friends of Pathways to see this church like Paderewski saw the boy. See Pathways with our physical senses, as it is here and now. But don’t stop there. Don’t stop there. See it also through the eye of compassionate memory and the eye of heart-felt anticipation. How have we all been working as best as we can, against great odds, to grow this church? What is it about Pathways that has already blessed our lives and stands out as a strength? What are our best wishes and dreams about how we want Pathways to grow and develop over the next three to ten years? How do we see Pathways Church changing lives, and because of this, it’s more than worthy of giving to generously, with our time, our talents, and our money?

Right now, Pathways is playing “Chopsticks,” and it’s up on the flood-lit stage. What got it there was the fidgetyness of certain people, more than four years ago, and it has come so far since then. And now, before us, is a choice. You and I can be out there in the audience, merely seeing what’s going on, spotting the flaws and shouting it down. Or, we can be like Paderewski and envision how it can become so much more, through and beyond what it already is. Do you know what I’m really talking about here? I’m talking about love. Let’s love this church. Love Pathways. Love it, and cherish it, as it tries to do an audacious thing every week, week after week, as best as it can: to change lives. Amen.