Teri


 

Theology

 

Bidden or unbidden, God is present.

—Carl Jung

As long as I can remember, I had an internal sense that someone, something was watching over me. This force was protecting me and helping me to grow. I had a vague sense that this force was connected to bright bursts of sun through the gray Oregon rain, to the smell of wet pine, to the moonlight through my bedroom window, to the wondrous spider web in an ill-kempt yard, and to my dreams.

As a child my home life—and at times my health—was challenging. These difficulties prompted me to ponder big questions from an early age: Who am I? Where am I going? Why am I here? What does it mean to live a good life? Where will I go when I die? My Jesuit education was my first encounter with an institutional religious response to my questions. I fell in love with the spirituality and ritual. I entered into a tradition of people who have been asking these questions for millennia within the broader context of the Church. Though the theology wasn't mine to share, the religious community was. I came to value the institution of the church as an instrument—at its best—to share wisdom of the ages, to bring people together, and to work for good in the world.

In college I studied magic and earth-based spirituality. Its ancient practices of honoring the cycles of nature, tapping into the psyche, and finding divinity all around me, seemed very similar to the liberal Catholic teachings I encountered at Jesuit. Yet, they were much more natural to me, and there was space for my critical theological doubts. But, simply put, I missed church.

As Henri Nouwen puts it, "The church is that unlikely body of people whom God chooses to show God's love for us." I needed church. I needed to be with Nouwen's motley crew, to practice growing our souls and world, if only one Sunday at a time. I needed church for my beliefs—but maybe even more for my doubts. I knew needed church for sanctuary—but maybe even more to change me.

I searched. By grace I found Unitarian Universalism. Though it may have been a new tradition to me those years ago, it was nonetheless a homecoming. Theologically, I am a Unitarian Universalist and I always have been. I believe in the unity of God and in universal salvation. That is to say, I believe we have a common source and a common destiny. Throughout my life, I have had experiences of a power greater than myself. Sometimes I sense this power in a fleeting holy moment, sometimes in another person, and sometimes as deep, lasting awe—both terrifying and beautiful. And, if I am quiet enough to hear it, I sense this power as a still, small voice.

My formative religious communities were Christian. I draw inspiration from Jesus; I believe his teachings are redemptive, and I understand myself rooted in a Christian context. As a religious liberal, I believe that revelation is not sealed. To me, miracles aren't what never happened, they are what happen again and again—the holy keeps revealing itself, it is the cadence of life. Poet and naturalist Wendell Barry puts it this way, "The miraculous is not extraordinary but the common mode of existence." May I have eyes to see it, both in the beauty and profound brokenness of our world.

As a UU, my spiritual life is broadened and deepened by the wisdom traditions of the world. I am shaped by the Jewish heritage, practice, culture—and humor—in my chosen family. It is important to me to pass that heritage on to our children. The Passover has become my favorite family holiday. If would have asked me sixteen years ago, I wouldn't have known what matzo was. Now, we cook our version of kosher the whole week for our family to observe the Passover each year—and I wouldn't have it any other way.

In addition to my Christian heritage and Jewish family traditions, earth-based traditions invite me to get in touch with nature and the passage of time. The practice of Yoga, rooted in Hindu tradition, has been formative as one of my spiritual practices, quieting my chattering mind as I attempt to unite my mind and body—which I habitually tend to separate.

I am a mystical theist. I believe in a power greater than myself that grounds and sustains me. Do I feel connected to that power all of the time? Hardly. I'm still incredulous. The miracles that happen to me—over and over again—seem improbable at best. Yet, I've come to notice that when it's hard to find God, the problem is usually in me. Unitarian minister William Greenleaf Eliot urged us to "...never forget there's a divinity that shapes our ends, rough hew them as we will." Thankfully, this divinity is much bigger than my coarse shaping of a life. I find that the more I nurture my relationship with this power, the happier, the more joyous, and the freer I become.

When I was about four years old, I played in my toy kitchen; the miniature two foot stove was in perfect proportion to my childhood height. I gathered my plastic eggs from my box of plastic pretend food, and I sat on them. I sat on them hoping good things will hatch; I cast good spells into my little bedroom, out into the beyond. As a child I didn't expect anything to literally hatch out of my plastic eggs, but somehow I knew that my intention to bless and believe mattered. It mattered then—and it matters now.

The will to believe, the right to believe, can change reality. My will to believe has changed my life profoundly. This power greater than me—God—calls me back, again and again. This mysterious presence helped me to flourish as a young child; it remains a power larger than me, urging me to live and thrive. It has accompanied me from my toy plastic food set to an adult kitchen, from spells in the backyard to prayers on behalf of hundreds in the sanctuary. It is the marrow of life; the tree in the tiny mustard seed, the explosive energy of the supernova. It is the pattern in the nautilus shell and the double helix. It dwells in and beyond that spider web, the self, the dreaming, the sanctuary, the moon. Thanks be to God.

On theological diversity

"It is as if a man, wounded by an arrow thickly smeared with poison, were to say to his surgeon: I will not have this arrow removed until I know who shot it, his caste, his height, his color, where he comes from; the kind of bow the arrow was shot from, the wood of which the shaft was made and the species of bird whose feathers adorn it. Verily, before these questions were settled, that man would have died."

—Buddhist parable

Unitarian court preacher Francis David's sixteenth-century insight rings true today: "We need not think alike to love alike." As a minister, my pastoral approach is informed by this belief. I seek to meet people where they are and accompany them on their journey. This is grounded in profound respect for their faith and story. I see my role to listen deeply, with care, to companion with another person as they make meaning out of the story of their life and encounter the holy. I seek to be a non-anxious presence, grounded in my own beliefs and practice, and to help the person I serve explore theirs.

Sometimes our theology gets in our way and no longer serves us well. It can get between us, one another, and even between us and the holy. Spiritual maturity can be borne of many beliefs, but it always requires practice. We do well to ask ourselves—do our beliefs and practice make us happy, joyous, and free? Are we of greater service to others? Do we know peace? As a minister, it is my job to nurture faith development: in those I serve and in myself, too. This requires critical and compassionate reflection; it's not always easy, but it's always important.

We are all in this together! I think it is crucial that we don't overstate the differences in our theologies. In a crisis, we seek someone to truly be with us; we aren't looking for a discourse on arcane theological arguments, we are looking for human connection. We have far more in common than we might realize. We can't afford to unduly focus our efforts upon our perceived theological differences. If we endlessly question the arrow in our hearts, it will be too late. Rather, we can remove the arrow, mend our hearts, and grow our faith—for us, and for the world.

 

Denominational & Community Work

While working in community ministry over the last few years, I have found it invaluable to be a part of our district Unitarian Universalist Ministers Association (UUMA) quarterly chapter meetings, the UU Society for Community Ministry (UUSCM), and to attend the quarterly meetings of the Association of Professional Chaplains (APC). I try to attend national and regional UU conferences as I can. Additionally, I value my time with the UU Clergy Couples Group, and I seek to continue my participation. I continue to meet regularly with my mentor, who is a UU minister in the Twin Cities, a chaplain at a local hospital, and all-around wonderful woman!

Additionally, I have served in the following capacities:

  • Community Minister in affiliation with First Universalist Fall 2010-present
  • Treasurer, Harvard UU Ministry for Students (HUUMS), 2005
  • Sabbatical Pastoral Care Committee, Co-Chair, UU Church of Medford Spring, 2005
  • Board Member, UU Church of Medford, 2003-2004

 

Non-Professional Interests

When I'm not caring for my kids or working in ministry, I enjoy walking regularly, yoga as I can, and bicycling every once in a while. After years of studying classical piano, I keep trying to start the guitar just for fun. Someday, I'll keep at it. I like to crochet fairly well, I like to embroider irreverently, and occasionally I like to knit badly enough to have fun. I enjoy making lists. I like using a label maker any time of the day; I like strong coffee when I wake and a good read before bed. I like to watch Jon Stewart's Daily Show with David (and since I'm being honest, with Ben & Jerry's ice cream, too!). I like sitting on the porch watching the sunset with David; but in solitude I like to watch the sky slowly lighten in the morning from that porch. I love watching our children—especially together. I love my family, my faith, and this good life.

 

Awards

 
  • UUA Scholarships 2001-2006
  • Harvard Divinity School Scholarship 2001-2006
  • Lucille K. and Jerome P. Gallon UUA Preaching Scholarship, 2005
  • Billings Preaching Competition, Finalist, Harvard Divinity School, 2005
  • Joseph Sumner Smith Scholarship, UUA, 2005
  • John Haynes Holmes Memorial Fellowship, The Community Church of New York, 2005
  • Fund for Theological Education Ministerial Fellow, Summer 2001
  • Fund for Theological Education Undergraduate Fellow, Summer 2000
  • Brown University Scholarship 1997-2001