This morning I was working on my last sermon for the next 4+ months - that's a very
odd experience - a huge shift after 33+ years. To say that I am both excited and apprehensive about our upcoming shared sabbatical would be an understatement. Yesterday we hosted and Eclesiastical Council for a young man as he prepares to enter ordained ministry. These are bold and challenging times.
It is serendipitous that on Holy Saturday this year - the day between Good Friday and Easter - Dianne and I attended a community Passover Seder in North Adams. During that time it was mentioned that after Passover - and before Shavuot (what we know as Pentecost) - there are 49 days of spiritual preparation. One of the traditions for observing this commandment involves "counting the Omer" - that is, marking the 49 days between the first barley sacrifice in the Temple and the day when the first wheat offering is made - by using the story of the Exodus as the starting point for meditation.
Dianne and I have been reading and thinking about this as we, too, make our preparations for sabbatical. To imagine ourselves joining Israel as Moses leads the people out of Egypt, through the wilderness and into the Land of Promise is a fascinating way to mark time and our preparations. Recently, these reflections have asked us to consider the cost of leave-taking and how complicated it always is for all involved. Two rabbis, Jill Zimmerman and Cindy Enger, recently wrote the following that speaks volumes to what we are both experiencing right now:
As we prepare to leave Egypt, we cannot and do not want to carry everything forward. We make choices. This process of sorting and decision making can be challenging. In every new setting, out, some of the old must be left behind - relationships, clothing, furniture, ways of thinking, titles, names - items once useful and regular are now extraneous or do not fit us anymore... The moments before leaving can be chaotic, exhausting and emotionally draining. Some of us make light of saying good-bye or duck out to avoid feeling the pain. And then we face a moment of great choice: we've purchased our ticket and the train is scheduled to depart. We stand at the threshold, the door opens - and ready or not, we know we must go before we turn around, close the door or change our mind. The poet Mary Oliver offers us a glimpse of the powerful emotions involved in leave-taking. Despite the angst of setting out for new shores, we choose life... and find a new voice.
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voice around you
kept shouting
their bad advice -
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations
though their melancholy was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice,
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do -
determined to save
the only life you could save.
For eight years I have been blessed and challenged to be the pastor. of First Church. And now we will let that go for a season - literally a quarter of the years - and enter a new relationship with time, community, God and ourselves. This Sunday I will be speaking about what the sabbatical preparation team has planned for the sabbatical of First Church. Remember, this is not just MY time, but one for the whole congregation, too. I hope you will be present. I will serve Eucharist one last time until September this Sunday and profoundly look forward to that privilege. There will be a brief leave-taking ceremony during worship, too.
As I have noted before, many of those involved in the leadership of our sabbatical will be posting observations, thoughts, prayers and reflections on the blog site: JAZZ FOR THE JOURNEY. You may find it here: https://jazzforthejourney.
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