Board President Lorie Craddock and Worship Weaver Margo Gill led our service.

The Invitation
by Oriah Mountain Dreamer, Indian Elder

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your hearts longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals, or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true, I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.

I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore trustworthy. I want to know if you can see beauty, even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours or mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!”

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you are, or how you came to be here- I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

Sermon

I grew up in NE Ohio where winter lasts approximately nine months. June is spring. July is summer. August is fall. All the other months have at least the possibility of snow. There have been times in my life when I liked winter. Now is not necessarily one of them.

Winter as a child was great. Sled riding down the hills beside my Aunt Barb’s house. Icicles as big as broomsticks growing off my grandmother’s house. And lying in bed listening to the radio at 5AM waiting for the powers-that-be to call a snow day which unfortunately, were few and far between because NE Ohio knows how to handle snow. Yeah, I definitely liked winter as a child.

But then I learned to drive and my attitude changed. Clean off the car, shovel the driveway, plow the road, pump the brakes, black ice, turn with the skid. Sounds like a list of fancy cocktails. Or maybe yoga poses. But driving in winter is neither as fun as happy hour nor as satisfying as getting in shape.

Later on when I became a parent, I liked winter again. Sled riding and snow candy. Hot chocolate and icicles. The children’s joy was my joy. Their snow day was my snow day. We could wear our jammies until noon, sit on the couch, read books and watch cartoons. No lunches to pack, no backpacks to organize, no busses to catch. Dinner could be pancakes and that only made things better.

A few years ago, we installed a gas fireplace in the living room of our house and it became a magnet for everyone in the family during cold winter days. Arguments were put on hold and grudges were forgotten when it came time to sit and warm up by the fire. The cats sat next to the dogs, the teenagers sat next to the parents, the parents sat with each other. We ate dinner by the fire, watched TV by the fire and sometimes just talked. Or we didn’t talk and simply sat and stared at the flames. And for me that is one of the times I can make magic happen.

I can stare at those flames, let my imagination run wild and feel inspired. I can take advantage of the luxury of time to think and dream and plan. Leave my cell phone muted on the charger, turn the TV off and look beyond the clutter day-to-day life. Something more than my next trip to the grocery store. Think about the big stuff. Where am I going. What do I want. Who do I want to be. Five year plans. Ten year plans. Think about the extraordinary possibilities in this world.

German author and Nobel Prize winner Hermann Hesse wrote “Gaze into the fire, into the clouds, and as soon as the inner voices begin to speak… surrender to them. Don’t ask first whether it’s permitted, or would please your teachers or father or some god. You will ruin yourself if you do that.”

When I sit and stare into a flame and allow my mind to wander, my imagination spills out from the box on the shelf of my brain where I keep it. Sometimes it zooms around like one of those mini cars at the 4th of July parade, the ideas coming fast and furious. Or imagination can be the bubbles in a glass of milk and I am the child with a straw. Sometimes it is invisible snow that has been falling all around and slowly I look up to notice the flakes and see the drifts of ideas that have been building up beside me.

These are not “ah ha” moments. I’m not leaping to my feet crying “Eureka!”. I’m describing time spent looking at the big picture and taking stock of what’s going on and where we can go from here.

While staring at the fire, I’ve chosen paint colors and planned vacations. I’ve fussed over a ten-year plan for home renovation and crafted survival plans for the ten weeks of summer vacations. I’ve thought through a year’s worth of recipes for Soup Sunday and I’ve been inspired to take on a leadership role at church. Most recently I sat by the fire and wrote this sermon.

Mrs. Carrie Baker, the founder of our church, was inspired to do much more than just write a sermon when she and her family moved here in 1942. She was dismayed by the lack of a Unitarian church in Charlottesville and began a slow determined campaign to organize one.

Mrs. Baker connected with the Richmond Unitarian Minister, Mr. John McKinnon and the Bakers soon attended a Sunday Service in Richmond, joining the McKinnons for lunch afterwards.

In a narrative Mrs. Baker writes…….

“It really did seem hopeless, as the only names Mr. McKinnon could give me were three which he had in his files from some time in the past. He told us a Miss Mary Grasty, who lived in Charlottesville was interested. I at once got in touch with Miss Grasty, who was very interested but knew no one else whom we could interest in joining.”

“I called one of the persons but it seems they had moved out of the city, also called another person who had formerly been very active in Unitarian work. This person said, I was wasting my time trying to get this sort of thing started here, but on I went. “

Mrs. Baker continues……

“Mr. McKinnon suggested I call Mr. Findley at the University as he has the reputation of having liberal views and if he was not a Unitarian he may be able to tell me of some who were or may know of some students at the University who may be interested. “

This lead took me nowhere. Mr Findley was very lovely but could not give me the information I requested. Then I called up the other person whose name Mr. McKinnon gave me. This lovely lady said she was not interested at that time, but if I knew Dr. House at the University I should call him as he perhaps may be able to give me some information. In the meanwhile I spoke to Marie Wilkinson telling her of my ambitions, and having lived here such a short time, I asked her if she thought I may offend the natives by trying to start this. She very kindly said by all means no, and if I wished to put an ad in the paper—The Daily Progress—she would introduce me over the telephone to Mr. Lindsay, the publisher.”

And the rest is history.

Carrie Baker placed her ad in the Progress not once but twice, October 27 and 28 1942 and on November 8 the first meeting of the self-titled “discussion group” took place in the office of Professor Floyd House of the Sociology Department at UVA. There were four people in attendance.

On November 29, their number grew to nine people. January 10 it was 14 people. And by February 21 they were a congregation of twenty-six and the sermon was entitled “What is Unitarianism”.

Finally on February 28, 1943, a business meeting was held in Dr. House’s office to organize into a Society and to apply for affiliation with The American Unitarian Association. Two men and five women including Mrs. Baker, were present and Jefferson Unitarian Society of Charlottesville, Virginia was born.

Inspiration. Imagination. Determination.

Thousands of people have come to our church over the years. What else have we done?

In 1950 the church building committee headed by Col. Sid Pool broke ground for this building and in April 1951 services move here from the University Chapel
1956 pews are finally installed and our minister, Henry Cheetham presides over the church as the kitchen, parlor and offices are completed.
1960 we have 200 members and the mortgage is paid off
1967 Molly Michie, Ann Spurgin and Gyneth Mooney open the Co-op PreSchool in the basement
1974 Norma Velimirovic is hired as our first professional RE director
1993 TJMC buys Summit House

Inspiration. Imagination. Determination.

But we don’t live in the past! What are we doing now?

Beth Jaegar-Landis had lunch at another UU church and came back to TJMC to start Soup Sundays. Griff Griffis was inspired by our former minister, David Morris, to join the men’s group UUGuys and Griff now does outreach and promotion for the group. Bayard Catron started a Themed Study Group, inspired by materials developed by our Director of Faith Development, Leia Durland-Jones. Cathy Lawder can’t forget the loving support she has received from this community over the years and she is now a key player in this year’s pledge drive. Karen Foley was lifted up and deeply moved by the first IMPACT rally she attended and now encourages others at TJMC to support the cause as well. Tragedy in the homeless community motivated Elizabeth Breeden to act and now our church has hosted PACEM for 15 years. Glenn Short was so inspired by his love of our community that he gave a financial gift that will insure that the physical structure of this church lasts another 77 years. And finally, Danny Grey says it was miscommunication that inspired him to take on a leadership role at TJMC. He thought I said “sled ride” not “pledge drive”. Sorry Danny!

And then there’s me. Parked in my living room with my cats, staring at the fireplace.

And if the fireplace doesn’t work? I can try listening to music, driving a car or walking the dog. Russian composer Igor Stravinsky would stand on his head as he believed this would rest his head and clear his brain. The French writer Balzac said coffee was a great power in his life, sending sparks shooting all the way up to his brain. To keep her thoughts flowing, Agatha Christie would eat apples in the bathtub, lining up the cores on the rim as she wrote her famous murder mysteries.

Inspiration comes to us all in different ways. But whatever you need to do, wherever you need to be, I invite you over the next few weeks to take time to dream and imagine our future. Today is the start of the Pledge Drive and soon enough we get around to talking about money and the budget and the financial future of our church. But first let’s have a chance to take our imaginations out of the box on the shelves in our brains where we keep them. Let your imagination zoom around or bubble up or drift into view.

So gaze at a candle or a chalice or a fireplace or a bonfire. Go hike in the mountains or vacuum the rugs or bake a loaf of bread or rake some leave. And Dream. Dream about the future. For yourself. For your family. For your church. Seek the kind of inspiration that has built and sustained this church and this church family for more than 75 years.

Gaze into that fire. Gaze toward our future and imagine the possibilities. Imagine the extraordinary possibilities.

May it be so.

Prayer

Spirit of Life, Spirit of Love

Spirit known by so many names but by no name fully known.
We, all of us, build houses for our dreams..
The masonry and lumber, glass and tiles,
A solid form, wherein we see our hopes,
A shelter and protection for our growth.

This house shall be a dwelling place
For courage, for integrity, for love
Engendered, nourished by a family
That speaks of “we” and means all humankind.

These walls shall represent the privacy
And dignity of individuals,
The open doors, a welcome to all people,
All ages, and all generations.

The windows shall keep light of inquiry
Illumining from outside and within.
May all words spoken here be born of love
And energy rekindle in the hearts
Of those who dreamed this house–
who plied the tools
And paid the price to actualize the dream.

May dreaming never cease for those within
Who know the world to be a troubled place,
But dare to struggle with imperfectness
Toward that brighter hope, that better day.

Let memories add warmth…a heritage,
A quilted patchwork stitched with history
Of kindliness, of daring for the good,
Of funny moments, jokes and smiles and tears.

This is a precious place, as every home
That shelters those who love and strive and share.
Its blessing is in lives that meet within…
In living, learning, caring, sheltered here.

May It Be So.

Closing

All people dream, but not equally.

Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their mind,

Wake in the morning to find that it was vanity.

But the dreamers of the day are dangerous people,

For they dream their dreams with open eyes,

And make them come true.

– T. E. Lawrence