Past Pastors’ Talk

The following is a talk I delivered on November 6, 2022 in celebration of the Harwich church’s 275th Anniversary

I am honored, though a bit surprised, to be standing here this morning. Perhaps I should explain. It all started the day my father insulted me. I was maybe 10 years old at the time.

How did he achieve this? He told me I had the perfect personality to be a pastor. It was the last thing I wanted to do. Which is to say I was your typical suburban kid (Greenwich, CT) with fairly typical aspirations, none of which even remotely included ministry.

Worse still, I knew my father was a bit of an authority on the subject. Though not himself a pastor, he was the product of five generations of them on his father’s side. Several of his uncles and great-uncles were pastors also, not to mention his mother’s father being a pastor as well!

Ministry was, in a sense, the family business. Ultimately, it fell to me to get the family back on track. It was a dirty job but, as I often say, somebody had to do it!

Skipping church was never an option growing up. But when I went off to college, church became a distant memory. From what I could fathom, God was merely a big idea, a concept, not existentially real, and thus mostly irrelevant to my everyday world.

Besides, I was a child of the 60s and, as such, had convinced myself that all the world’s injustices were the fault of my parents’ generation. I also suspected the church had something to do with it as well.

Then, in my mid-20s, I was confronted with a decidedly unwelcome revelation. To wit: I wasn’t perfect! I, too, was a sinner! This forced me to admit, reluctantly, that the sins of society were nothing more than individual sins writ large which meant, among other things, that I was as responsible for the wrongs of the world as anyone.

Also around this time, in my mid-to-late 20s, I had a religious experience, which proved to be the start of my return to faith. I started reading a lot of philosophy and religion.

Then one day my mother called me following a conversation she had had at church with a fellow congregant connected to Yale Divinity School.

She wanted to know, had I ever considered going to divinity school? The answer was an emphatic “no”. Months later, however, because of an ongoing interest in the subject, I decided to give it a try. Yet ordained ministry was still off the table.

Four years of study and two master’s degrees later, I was still undecided. Eventually, though, and for variety of reasons, not least that church was the only place where talk of religion was welcome, I decided to pursue ordination.

At the Ecclesiastical Council convened to decide my suitability for ordained ministry, I was asked how I knew I had a calling from God. “Because I never chose it,” I explained, “it chose me.”

As it was, I had backed through every door, kicking and screaming the whole way. Apparently, God had ideas distinct from mine. Subsequently, I went on to serve churches in PA, CT, and MA. I now can’t imagine having done anything else.

My developing theological perspective led me to oppose much of contemporary culture. When I was a kid, my father worked on Madison Avenue and in the mid-50s wrote a slogan General Electric used for 15 or 20 years or so…Progress Is Our Most Important Product.

It was a clever line, but I’ve always had issues with it. While capturing the spirit of the age – that science and technology was the key to human flourishing – it failed the religious test.

I remain skeptical. Human nature, at its core, doesn’t really change. We today face the same struggles and weaknesses as those who came before us. We harbor the same virtues and vices, passions and motivations, longings and aspirations, as well as the same immediate wants and overarching desires.

Science and technology may effect external change. But we are not blank slates easily rejiggered. We are not programmable machines. Human life cannot be reduced to mathematical equations. We’re not made up of a series of zeros and ones.

Thus, with respect to the things of the Spirit, of the heart and soul, we are no different than those living thousands of years ago. We’re no smarter, nor are we necessarily any wiser. In fact, in some ways, the opposite may be true.

Along these lines, one of my favorite verses comes from the Old Testament book of Jeremiah. Writing to the Jewish captives in Babylonia, God speaks through Jeremiah urging them, somewhat counterintuitively, to build houses, plant gardens, and have families.

He writes: “Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.”

This sentiment expresses how I view this world. As Christians, we here are strangers in a strange land, sojourners, exiled from our truest home – heaven.

Yet we are urged to seek the welfare of this, our temporary earthly home. For its welfare and ours are the same. Yet, because there is no perfection this side of heaven, we ultimately must set our sights on the Cross and the eternal life it promises, and foreshadows.

Which brings me, finally, to First Church. When I started here first as interim pastor in late 2001, the very first person Linda and I met in the Broadbrooks parking lot was Irv Sibley. His kindness and welcoming spirit set the tone.

In meeting and working with the members of First Church over the years (first as interim from November 2001 to June 2002 and then as settled pastor from September 2006 to December 2017), we both felt an immediate and unmistakable chemistry.

Over that entire time, this church gave me the opportunity to live out my calling with unmistakable generosity, love, and unfailing support.

In addition to the joy of leading worship and preaching, I found immense satisfaction in initiating a weekly Bible study as well as a number of book studies – and singing in the choir!

But of greatest importance was being welcomed to share pastorally in the lives of the members of this congregation – perhaps especially in transitional life-moments and/or in listening and learning from our more elderly members, whose life experiences and depths of wisdom enriched my life immeasurably, and for which I shall forever be grateful.

In terms of “extra-curricular” activities, our lawsuit with the town of Harwich marked an important moment in my ministry. With the unfailing support of this congregation, both financially and personally, and after years of exhaustive work by many of you, we were able to secure the future of our Memorial Garden both for those who’ve gone before and for generations to come. The timely and successful Land Court decision came in late August 2017, just months before my retirement.

On a related note, you also allowed Linda to fulfill her calling as well – to love and serve you with her unique brand of warmth, kindness, and faithfulness – her specialty.

One occasion illustrates the point. Linda from time to time would accompany me when I made pastoral calls at hospitals and nursing homes. One day I entered the room of our dear friend, Betty Paine.

Upon seeing me walk through the door, she offered a warm and friendly hello. But then she saw Linda. Filled with unrestrained glee, she gushed with delight. The contrast was, shall we say, appreciable. And I loved it.

In the same vein, it was not at all uncommon for people during the receiving line before or after church to thank me for “the beautiful card” I’d sent. Of course, most of the time, I had absolutely no knowledge of any such card having been sent! Where there was a need, Linda would respond unfailingly with one of her heartfelt cards.  

In the end, looking back on our time here among you, the preeminent emotion we both feel is one of immense gratitude. I can honestly say, of all the churches I ever served, First Church was our absolute favorite – by far.

One day our ashes will be interred in your/our Memorial Garden (we were gifted our plots as a retirement gift from you, the congregation). We can think of no greater honor and blessing.

So I guess, in the final analysis, my father was right. But it took First Church for me to fully appreciate just how right he was.