For the next few weeks, I want to focus in our worship on the issue of leadership.
What qualities are important in a leader? How are leaders formed, trained, and sustained in a community? Thoughts about how a leader does the job of leading, what they should, and should not do. How leaders deal with difficult decisions.
And the other half of the issue of leadership lies on the responsibilities of the led. What to do when a leader disappoints, or fails? How do we hold leaders accountable? How do we support leaders? Our responsibility to hold faith, to give our trust, to set aside personal preferences and support a communal decision.
I was thinking about leadership yesterday as I drove to church for Dorothy Geisler’s Memorial service and I listened to a press conference being held in Ventura with firefighters and city leaders giving updates on the devastating fires there.
From a distance, the last few days, I could barely think about those fires. I felt I needed to protect myself, not from the actual flames (I don’t live anywhere close) but protect myself from the story of the fire. I’ve been feeling so exhausted from so much chaos and tragedy in the world lately, I just couldn’t open myself to yet another scene of devastation and heartache.
And here were these firefighters and city and county officials calmly addressing the press. Describing what had happened. Outlining their plans. Stories of heroism from the day before when homes were saved. Frank description of hard work, terrible conditions. Gratitude for good luck, when they had it. Calm expressions of sorrow for the homes they couldn’t save. Tough decisions they had to make, like whether to evacuate the Pepperdine University students through dangerous conditions or have them shelter in place and protect them where they were.
And I felt better. I felt gratitude for their leadership in difficult times. Listening to these leaders talk, their frankness, their expertise, their courage, their care, made me feel better. Their calm, their skill, their connection to reality (both the good and the terrible) made me feel that maybe the horrible reality of the fire wouldn’t last forever, wouldn’t overwhelm me, that it would be difficult and dangerous, and there would be some terrible losses, and then we would get through it. The fire would be out, eventually. And people would save what they could, or rebuild. And we would go on.
I thought, too, about leadership, when I heard the story earlier this week about the shooting at the Borderline Bar and Grill. Yet another insensible shooting. More dead. More gun violence. More heartbreak and horror and loss.
Yet here, too, within the scene of pain there was a story of heroism. Sgt. Helus, who ended a phone conversation with his wife so he could answer the call to respond. I can’t imagine the pain his wife and family must feel at his death. There is no rebuilding from that loss. But his actions saved others. And his story made me remember that there is a goodness in human nature just as powerful as the wretchedness in human nature that is also part of our species.
We have had too much human wretchedness lately. 12 dead in Thousand Oaks. 11 dead in Pittsburgh. Mail bombing, and all the other incidents of hate and violence and death we memorialized just last Sunday.
I have no words. Sense is far away. Comfort is far away. Healing is far away.
But I know that it does help to think of those firefighters giving their press conference and then going back to work. It helps me to think of leaders like Sgt. Helus, answering the call, recognizing the danger, and then running toward it to be of help.
Last week in worship we memorialized the dead and then we encouraged each other to go out and vote. I encouraged you to have hope, to not give in to fear. That’s the right message. Surely. But I know, also, how hard it has been in the last couple of years to hold on to hope.
The daily chaos, and fear-mongering, and lies of the President has felt like a non-stop forest fire. We don’t know whether to run, or shelter in place. Every peaceful, familiar scene in life is in constant danger of being interrupted by some curel policy being announced, or message of hate appearing by tweet. Innocents around us are threatened. We’re constantly on edge.
I’m heartened by the vote last week. I hope you are, too. I know the chaos isn’t over. The political conflagration is likely about to get much worse. But, whew, at least this week I feel that the voices of calm and courage have put a containment ring around the wild fire. I’m heartened by many of the leaders that were elected, and also by the electorate that put them there. Maybe America isn’t such a foreign country as it has seemed to me lately. And I am heartened not just by the leaders elected, but by the numerous state initiatives that were passed tilting the country in the direction of increased voting rights, increased availability of health care, protection for trans people and so on.
Not a complete win, by any means, but an encouraging result. A step forward. An affirmation that the strange times we are in, really are strange. And not just to me.
It feels like the last two years have been a time of unceasing, unsettling, anxiety. It feels like the stuff I could count on: truth, science, tolerance, respect, have been under constant attack. It’s exhausting. The rise of nationalist politics world-wide. The slow-moving catastrophe of climate change. The threats are frightening to confront directly and create a background noise of anxiety even when we’re trying to focus on something else.
Just after the election, I receieved in my email inbox the latest newsletter from the UUA Pacific Western Region. The first article was a note from the head of the region, Rev. James Kubal-Kumoto. His title is Pacific Western Regional Lead. He writes:
Dear Pacific Western Congregational Leaders,
I write these words a few days before the November election knowing you will likely read them a few days after the election.
This fall, other PWR staff members and I have noticed an increased level of anxiety in many of our congregations. People seem to be more reactive to each other, becoming very upset over small matters that in other times they might shrug off. They seem to be more reactive to decisions by congregational leaders, both religious professionals and lay leaders, with which they disagree.
I can’t help but think that this might have something to do with our national political climate.
Social science suggests that when people don’t feel they have enough control in one area of their life, such as state or national politics, they may act out in either positive or negative ways in areas of their life where they have more control, such as the congregation where they belong.”
Rev. Kubal-Komoto admits he doesn’t know how the elections will turn out, but predicts a “mixed-bag at best”. I actually think we did a little better than merely mixed.
So then, Rev. Kubal-Komoto asks, what we should do next? And he writes:
“If the individuals we prefer are elected, our task is not to throw up our hands in joy, say, “Thank goodness for that,” and then return to the quotidian rhythms of our everyday lives. Our task is to continue the hard, slow, onerous work of creating a more compassionate, just, and sustainable world for us all, because elected leaders, no matter what party, rarely make courageous decisions without ordinary people continuing to pressure them to do so. Most Unitarian Universalists don’t believe in a single savior from 2,000 years ago and we shouldn’t expect any one person to save us now.”
Mr. Kubal-Komoto’s advice lays out so well just I want to say about leadership in times of change.
He reminds us that important goals are never achieved all at once. Whether a particular incident has advanced our goals or moved us away from them, our response should be the same. There is more work to do. As John Beuhrens writes in our opening reading, “Blessed are those who know that the work of the church is the transformation of society; who have a vision of Beloved Community transcending the present, and who do not shrink from controversy, sacrifice, or change.”
He advises us to look beyond surface issues, and to motivate our work by staying connected to deep values and long-term mission, “creating a more compassionate, just, and sustainable world for us all.”
And he reminds us that the work of the world is not something that leaders do for us, but work we all do together in different roles. It’s not part of our faith to expect any one person to save us. He points out one of the responsibilities of the led, to stay engaged with our leaders because an engaged public voicing its wishes allows the leader to make bold decisions. “Love will guide us, peace has tried us, hope inside us will lead the way.”
Then Mr. Kubal-Komoto ends with this thought:
“Most of all, though, no matter what the election results are, my hope is we will be tender and patient with one another, slow to judge and quick to forgive and reconcile.
Our congregations can’t help but sometimes reflect the pain of the wider world within their walls, but may they be places where that pain is held gently, where it is transformed and not just transmitted, where bitterness and despair are slowly transformed into trust, hope, courage, commitment, patience, and perseverance.”
This congregation has experienced a lot of pain in the last year and a half. There are a lot of reasons simply within these walls to feel pain.
The sudden resignation of your previous settled minister, Rev. Rahnema, would have been enough to instigate the stresses of change. But the stress was increased given the circumstances of her decision, and questions about her decision that cannot be answered because of our commitment to confidentiality required to protect the people involved.
Other staff changes preceded and followed Rev. Rahnema’s departure adding to the stress of change, even when some of those departures were expected and for happy reasons.
Our congregation suffered through a further painful time at the beginning of this year when asked to deal with a member of our congregation whose behavior had become disruptive to the security of the congregation.
And then, in June, a water leak damaged the back half of the church office physically “unsettling” some of us, to go along with the psychological unsettling we’ve all been feeling.
As Rev. Kubal-Komoto says, “I can’t help but think that this might have something to do with our national political climate.” I don’t mean that the President caused a water leak in our church office (although that’s precisely the kind of wild theory he would promote). But I mean, on top of all the change within our congregation, which would be extraordinary at any time, we are also having to deal with the background stresses of these extraordinary political times. No wonder we’re feeling anxious. No wonder we’re exhausted. And no wonder, as Rev. Kubal-Kumoto says, “People seem to be more reactive to each other, becoming very upset over small matters that in other times they might shrug off. They seem to be more reactive to decisions by congregational leaders, both religious professionals and lay leaders, with which they disagree.”
I think what I found most comforting in the words of the firefighters and the other civic leaders during their press conference yesterday morning, was their ability to simply describe the reality of the situation. Here’s what happened. Here’s what we know. Here’s the danger we’re still facing. Here’s what we’re going to do.
They didn’t try to comfort by pretending there was no danger. They comforted by saying here is exactly what the danger is. They didn’t try to comfort by saying no houses would be burned, when some obviously had. They didn’t try to comfort by claiming everything was under control, when currently everything is not under control. They didn’t wait until the problem was solved to talk to us. In the midst of the problem, with the fire still burning, they said. We’re in a fire. It’s burning. The situation is hot and dangerous and unpredictable. We’ve still got a long way to go, and it might get worse before it gets better.
Let’s do the same.
When we experience a change in life, happy or sad, small or large, we respond by moving through a cycle of feelings. We start with loss. Then we move through doubt and then discomfort. Eventually, the negative feelings shift and we move to discovery, understanding, and finally integration of the new reality.
I know we’ll get through the cycle, eventually. But for now, let’s acknowledge that the fire is still burning. We’re suffering loss. We’re doubtful about the future. The change is still hurting for some of us. Even for those furthest through the cycle we’re probably, at best, sitting in the discomfort stage.
Like a helpful press conference in the midst of a still-unfolding situation. Let’s name the reality. Let’s tell the truth. We’re hurting. We’re stressed out. We’re tired. We have experienced a loss, or rather a series of losses. And the healthy response to a loss is to feel pain.
And then, all the usual anxieties and fears of loss are re-doubled when the loss is forced upon us, instead of freely chosen, and when the reason for the sudden change isn’t known, and can’t be known. We resist the change, and because we can’t stop the change from happening, we feel angry.
We may not be afraid of some change, but that doesn’t mean we have to like it. We may not be afraid of some change, but this is a lot more than some!
I’d love to comfort you by excitedly describing the possibilities and promise of the new minister who will come two years from now. But let’s leave “integration into the new reality” for later. Comfort too soon isn’t actually very comforting.
We will get around the cycle from loss to integration eventually. We’ll get there together. Not today. Some of the movement through the cycle just takes time, and we have that. And some of the movement through the cycle can be assisted by intentional healing work. We will do more of that in the coming months.
For now, let’s just acknowledge and normalize the feelings of loss. Painful feelings are painful. Depression is depressing. Anger is uncomfortable. Let’s unashamedly make space for the painful, depressing, discomfort of the time we’re in.
When we’re ready, the change cycle will turn.
In the meantime, let’s get back to work.