NOTE: I learned, after I wrote this sermon, that a few extremely generous people who raised their pledge during our Stewardship Sunday, and gave more than they already had decided they would. I want you to know this is the greatest, most inspiring, gift an outgoing minister can receive – to know that I’ve been a part of something that people will continue to support after I’m gone. Thank you so much. It means more to me than I can say.
“Generosity: The Math of Potlucks”
Rev. Bob Janis-Dillon
The First Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Hunterdon County
April 6, 2014
“Be ours a religion which, like sunshine, goes everywhere; its temple, all space; its shrine, the good heart; its creed, all truth; its ritual, works of love; its profession of faith, divine living.” – Theodore Parker
The first few flowers of the spring,
Have turned my soul to everything,
Have brought my love back to your door,
And I can’t hide it anymore.
I’m just gonna preach my heart out here this morning, if you don’t mind. Because I’m not here very long. And I mean that in the sense of an outgoing minister, as this is my last year here; and I also mean it is in the larger sense, that none of us are here very long. How many glorious springs do we get to witness? How many wonderful, lazy summers, how many autumns and winters. Far too few. And yet, enough: enough to live with boldness, appreciating how amazing it is to be alive with every day. Enough to live generously, savoring our lives in joy and then passing that joy along in the form of service. We’re here for long enough.
I want to preach to you today about why I give, and I’m tremendously excited to tell you why I give to the congregation. Especially because, even though I’ve pledged every year here, this is the first year where none of my pledge is going toward my own salary. My term here ends June 30th and my pledge begins on July 1st. So I’m in the same position as all of you, for once: my pledge goes toward paying somebody else. Only, unlike all of you, I won’t be involved in congregational life or attending services at all next year. That’s not a reflection of the quality of the services or the greatness of the congregation: it’s part of our Unitarian Universalist Ministers’ Association covenant, to steer clear of involvement to allow the next shared ministry to blossom and thrive.
Now, I’m incredibly grateful that you have paid my salary all these years. It is a humbling thing to know the people who pay your salary. You are the ones who, these last eight years, have put food on my table (sometimes literally). You have provided for me and my family. And you have allowed me to be a minister. Ministry is a challenging occupation, but it’s an immensely rewarding one. To be paid to seek my truth, and share it; to be there in your most difficult times, times of life and death, as well as times of joy; and to help create community and cast a vision together about how we’re going to change the world. It is an amazing privilege to be your minister. You have made me a better person, you have taught me how to love better, and I will always be grateful for my time here. Thank you.
But in order to tell you why I give, I need to explain it via the math of potlucks. I googled the term, and though I did not create it, this may be the first sermon explaining it, so I believe we just might be treading new mathematical/theological ground here. Which as the former co-captain of my high school math team, I can tell you is pretty exciting. (just wait ’til Melissa Huang hears about this!)
There’s something remarkable about the math of potlucks, and that’s what I want to share with you today. And the amazing thing about potlucks is the fact that they always seem to work out. Now, I’m sure many of us, experienced in potlucks, can think of a counterexample: that time when there was six types of potato salad and nothing else, or that time that everybody forgot it was a potluck and nobody brought anything. But let not the mind be polluted by these negative occurrences. Let us not obfuscate the proposition with these deleterious anomalies. No, let’s get back to the fact that almost always, basically always, potlucks work. Oh yes they do. And that’s amazing. Because – and think about it for a sec here: the idea is that everybody brings one dish. Everybody brings their own dinner – in theory, though really it is to be shared. But everyone brings their own dinner, and then you divide it up, and share, so there’s the equivalent of one dish for everyone. BUT – it never works like that, does it. I mean, it’s not that simple. A large enough potluck, somebody always is cooking a bunt cake in the oven, and it’s a new recipe, and it gets burned 10 minutes supposed to leave the house so they’re empty-handed. And somebody else is going through a truly awful time at home, and life is hectic to the point of nervous breakdown, and they need to be in beloved community, but the last thing they have time to do is even pick up cookies on the way in. And then you have people who are a much, much better minister than they are a cook. And so on.
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Rev. Bob Janis 