Recovering Lost Connections: Prelude
March 27, 2007 The Reverend Anne Felton Hines
Journal Entry, December 30, 2006: “I still haven’t decided on my plans for Sabbatical – which I really need to do for the brochure that Ann Teitelbaum is developing…. It’s too bad that people expect Sabbaticals to be “productive!” I’d be happy to simply stay at home and read, knit and get my back yard in good order….But I’m not sure that would fly very well!”
I believe the idea of Sabbaticals comes from the academic world. Every seven years (which is what the word implies), academia allows a professor to take leave of his or her normal duties in order to embark on some new study or teaching experience; often this experience results in some kind of publication as well.
Our Unitarian Universalist tradition has used that as a model for our ministry, but with a bit more flexibility. Most of our agreements specify a sabbatical after only the fourth year of ministry, allotting one month for every year served, but not to exceed six months of total time away.
It seems to be a lot easier for us ministers to be granted a sabbatical than it is for professors; all I’ve ever done is suggest to the Board of the church the time period I want to use, and unless they think it would be a particularly disruptive time for the church, they haven’t refused. Nor have I ever had to justify my plans for a sabbatical.
But college professors usually have to apply for their sabbatical – not only for the dates they’d be taking it, but for their planned activity as well. And they can never be sure it will be granted.
My younger sister’s application for sabbatical was denied a couple of years ago by the community college at which she has taught for many years; and just this past week, that same college denied my brother-in-law, for the second time, his request – simply because there were too many other applicants from the same system applying.
Even ministers don’t all receive the opportunity to have sabbaticals. Friday I was at a meeting of Interfaith Communities United for Justice and Peace, where I announced during introductions that I’d be starting a 3-month sabbatical on April 1st. At the end of the meeting, a Methodist minister came up to me and told me how envious he was. “I’ve been in the ministry for 30 years,” he said, “and I’ve never received a sabbatical!” I told him I found that appalling, and that I’d be happy to speak to his bishop if that would help; he just smiled with resignation.
So I am well aware of how fortunate I am to be embarking on this sabbatical next Sunday – this “extended time…for study, reflection, rest, and renewal,” as our Sabbatical brochure suggests. I am grateful to our Unitarian Universalist movement that understands the relevance of such a time for effective ministry, and the importance of scheduling it more frequently than every seven years. And I am grateful to our congregations – most particularly this one! – for trusting that it’s the minister who is most qualified to discern what would constitute “study, reflection, rest and renewal” at any particular time in his or her ministry – even though this time, I had more difficulty with that discernment than in times past.
I think with every sabbatical I’ve taken during my 22 years of ministry, I’ve had a good idea from the onset of how I wanted to spend it.
In 1990, just a few months before I was to have major back surgery and be on medical leave for six months, I took about six weeks of sabbatical as a way to prepare myself spiritually for the surgery. I spent half of the time at a Quaker retreat center in Pennsylvania, and the other half at my sister’s home in Connecticut, during which time I met with an Episcopal priest for spiritual direction. It was a well-spent six weeks.
And in 1998 I took five months, driving across the United States in August and working in the Faith in Action department at the UUA. It was an amazing experience for me, one of the results of which was a prison ministry with the Church of the Larger Fellowship which still continues today – though no longer with me as its chaplain.
In both instances, I knew well in advance of the start of the sabbatical exactly where I would be going, and what I was planning on doing.
But this time has been different. I kept measuring my ideas with those of colleagues. I thought of Rev. Meyers at the Santa Monica UU church, who spent several months last year traveling to various exotic places in the world. And Rev. Christian in Ventura, who spent two weeks of her sabbatical in Vietnam, visiting, among other places, the province where her brother had been killed during our war there.
I kept feeling that I needed to do something equally impressive; but that wasn’t what was calling me. Instead, I wanted to stay a bit closer to home, and allow the process to unfold – more like another colleague who told me recently that she did nothing on her sabbatical. “Nothing?!” I asked her incredulously. “Nothing,” she said. “I just needed to stay home.”
And so, as I embark next Sunday on a 3-month sabbatical, my plans are still not completely clear. I have a “theme” of sorts – “Recovering Lost Connections” – and a vision of where that theme will lead me. As for travels…those will develop primarily as my research of “lost connections” unfolds.
What I wrote in my newsletter column a couple of months ago still stands: I will be trying to locate people in my life with whom I have lost touch over the years. In some cases, that may go back as far as early childhood. Some will be old friends, some will be teachers, and some will even be family members. I want to see them face-to-face if possible; have conversations about their lives and mine; find out in what ways we’ve changed, and if we’d be friends today. If they were a teacher, I want to thank them for what they taught me. If they’re a cousin I played with as a child, I want to learn from them more about our family –- especially about my father.
And then I want to write about the experiences: How did it feel to initiate that first contact? What was it like to visit with them? And why is it so difficult to stay connected to important relationships? Why are some people, like my older sister, so good at it? How do they do it? What’s the “glue” that keeps those relationships intact?
As I wrote in my “Leaves” column, I’ve already experienced one contact with a college friend, and it felt both scary and wonderful. I felt as if I’d entered another world – a past life, in a way – when I found her name on the Internet and followed one of the links. I was more than a little timid when I e-mailed her. But I was thrilled beyond words when I received her reply the next morning, confirming that she was indeed my good friend from college, and that she’d even been thinking about me a few days earlier! A week later I phoned her, and I will be driving (or perhaps taking the train) to Berkeley sometime during my sabbatical to spend a couple of days visiting with her. How could I have let her slip so completely from my life some 30 years ago?
I have a list of names of about 20 other people from my past who I’m hoping to find during the next three months – some of whom I’ve already traced and simply have to contact, and some of whom I’ve “googled” on the internet and come up with nothing. But I imagine there are other ways to try to find them.
Human relationships are not the only “lost connections” I’ll be trying to “recover” during this precious time. I’m planning to find a piano teacher, in hopes of re-connecting to my music, and getting back into the habit of regular practice. I remember once saying in a sermon called “Home for the Holidays,” that playing the piano was one place that felt like “home” to me, and that I couldn’t believe how far from home I’d allowed myself to stray. This will be an attempt to return a bit more solidly to that home I’ve so deeply loved for so long.
I want to re-connect to the earth by spending some time making my back yard beautiful. And then I want to sit out there in the sunshine – before the summer when it gets too hot! – and read and write, and simply be.
I hope to also go through training for non-violent civil disobedience sometime during the next three months, in preparation for a possible June action of civil disobedience in protest of the Iraq war. Many years ago, before entering ministry, I was prepared to get arrested at a similar event at the Livermore Labs, but had to back out at the last minute because of a family emergency. Sabbatical seems like a good time to re-connect to that commitment.
When I told a friend of mine a while back of my theme for this sabbatical, and how I planned to carry it out, he said with great enthusiasm, “It sounds like end-of-life kinds of activities.” I said I certainly hoped it wasn’t signaling end-of-life for me! But I suppose it is the kind of thing one begins to think about the older one gets.
But more than a sense of “end-of-life,” I have seen this sabbatical as a time to become more attentive to what’s important in my life – to stop letting the demands of everyday living overwhelm the relationships that have formed and sustained me – be they with people, with music, or with the earth. I want to learn how to live more “deliberately,” as Thoreau would say; “to learn what life has to teach.”
But I almost didn’t do it. Last year, I was having dinner one night with several colleagues and their spouses. Three of the colleagues had been in the ministry far longer than I, and I had great respect for them. At one point I mentioned that I was planning to take a sabbatical this spring, and that I had some trepidation about it because of my congregation’s past experience with ministers.
I explained how no minister had ever stayed at Emerson longer than five years – and that this would be my fifth year; how most of those ministers had never taken sabbaticals; and how the last one who did returned from his sabbatical to announce that he’d found another church and would be leaving Emerson at the end of that church year!
The response from my colleagues was quick and unanimous: “You cannot possibly take a sabbatical this year,” they said. “You need to wait at least a couple more years before you even consider it.” I balked, but they were all adamant. Stay put, they said; otherwise you’ll end up regretting it.
But as I drove home later that night and thought back on the conversation, I decided they were wrong. They didn’t know this congregation; they didn’t know of your ability to transcend fear, and our ability to have honest dialogue. “We’ll simply talk about it,” I thought to myself that night. “We can do this.” And we are.
Your Worship Associates have everything in place for the next three months – and almost for July as well – with an incredible line-up of speakers and special services. I’ve tried to think of some way I could come in disguise, they’re going to be so good – but you’re all so friendly and welcoming to strangers, I’d have a difficult time leaving!
Your Pastoral Care Ministry Team is well-prepared to be present for you if you need help during some personal emergency – be that a hospital visit, transportation to the doctor, delivery of meals, referral to a community resource, or simply a compassionate heart with which to listen to your struggle. For extreme emergencies, the chair of that ministry will be able to call on one of my colleagues who has agreed to be “on-call” in my absence.
And everything else will simply move along as it does, with or without my presence. Our choir is presenting an entire concert in June; one of our Small Group Ministries is offering a viewing of Al Gore’s Inconvenient Truth; our Social Action Alliance will be presenting many opportunities for all of you to help create peace and wholeness in our world. Nothing will stop while I’m gone and I hope you will participate fully.
Of course, as with anything of this significance, there can be some “issues” that arise. Some of you might feel abandoned; some might feel resentful; some might feel scared. Those are all normal feelings, and my only hope is that if you are experiencing such feelings, you’ll honor and talk about them – either with me, or with someone else you trust. After all, it’s not as if I don’t feel a little fear myself!
And of course, there’s always a chance for rumors! I learned last week of a rumor that the real reason I’m going on sabbatical is that the church can’t afford to pay my salary any longer, so this is a way to save some money! Amusing, but wrong!
In fact, the good news for me is that I will continue to be paid my full salary package while I’m gone; and the good news for you is that we’ve been setting aside money each year in order to fund extra guest speakers. So we are all in good shape financially.
Indeed, we’re in good shape all the way around for this adventure. And I will look forward to serving as your minister for many more years upon my return – enough to warrant another sabbatical in a few years!
But I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that for some people at Emerson, my absence will mean more stress – more attention to ensuring that all goes well. So I hope that everyone will step forward and help where needed. Read your newsletter, and if there’s a request for help – be it in R.E., music, worship, building maintenance, social action – whatever – answer that call. Help make sure that this vital religious community continues to thrive, now and in the future.
At the same time, I cannot encourage you all strongly enough to find time in your busy lives to take little “sabbaticals” – to find moments every day to stop, to notice the beauty, to experience the feelings, to “read what the world gives you.”
I don’t know the best way to say thanks to all of you for so graciously granting me this sabbatical time. But I’m reminded of the singer Dinah Shore, who used to end her TV shows each week with throwing everybody a kiss. So that’s what I’ve decided to do; throw you all a kiss! And if you can’t catch it, don’t worry; I’ll hold some aside for you to catch later.
Amen!
© 2007 Anne Felton Hines. All rights reserved.
