August 7, 2002
A service to celebrate our “Grand Reopening. Merle Wenger will present the message on what it means to “come home to our physical space” after more than two years when we met on Sunday morning through Zoom. Linda Dove will present an original poem to mark the occasion and several members will offer their reflections on coming home.
Opening Reading: “So are we bound together” By Elizabeth Lerner Maclay
As drops of rain that find each other and build to become a track, a rivulet, a stream, a river, a sea, so are we drawn together; so are we fortunate to find each other; so are we bound together, on this shared passage toward an unknown ocean and eternity.
Let Joy Ring Out
by Linda Ankrah-Dove
The sad tears of these strange years slide heavy
from my schoolhouse steeple. I’ve held our sanctuary
safe for you but it’s hollow with the silence
of your communal voice and song in worship.
My old wooden floors have not creaked,
felt no padding feet, heard no scraping chairs.
No hymns have vibrated on my walls,
no stories danced in children’s ears.
Be sure I’ve not at all forgotten you,
dear seekers after truth and love and justice.
I’ve kept our chalice glowing steadily
against the shadow of these vacant years.
Most of you, like me, have lost, suffered,
grieve for family, friends, familiar ways of life,
and all of you have shared the purple pain
that has so badly bruised the world.
But in the past few weeks, I’ve sensed a stirring—
new screens and mics, blossoms on the podium,
piano keys, bright black and white, and poised to play,
signposts of yet undiscovered paths along our UU journey.
The summer beauty of our gardens, nurtured
by your tender hands, promise us a vibrant life together.
And today I open wide my doors to welcome
your coming home to this, our holy space.
Today is not yesterday and not yet tomorrow.
Today, I celebrate with you right here and now.
That’s why my steeple bell rang out in joyful spirit
for tomorrow’s sacred possibilities.
Coming Home
by Merle Wenger
What does it feel like to come home? Is it always good? What are the benefits of home?
For me, my earliest memories of home were as a refuge from too much social interaction. I suppose in early school days, making friends with a large swath of “town” kid,” and a new teacher, was quite a new experience as six-year-old Merle settled in with Mrs Haney’s first grade class at Dalton Elementary school. Being at school meant I was exposed to much that was new and stimulating: learning to read, sing new secular songs, like “I wish I had a great big ball, to bounce up to the sky” but the safety of the relationship with an adult, the teacher, was much easier than creating friendships with other classmates. Going home at night meant there were three hours of chores before bedtime, but it did offer the safety and companionship of relating to my 10 siblings and my parents, and the hundred cows and calves we milked or fed. My earliest memories of coming home are that it felt safe.
As an adult my most poignant memories of homecoming were returning to the home of my parents and siblings during my first year of undergraduate studies at Goshen College. Although this was a small Mennonite liberal arts college in Goshen Indiana, my secluded rural tight-knit family life of the first 18 years of my life made the adjustment excruciating. I was homesick, with a capital H. Even though going home meant I was back in the daily chore cycle of milking 80 cows night and morning and doing other farm chores, the familiarity and eagerness of my parents to have me back in the workforce made me feel almost like a prodigal son. Coming home made me feel needed.
From an older adult perspective, and as a Cancer astrologically, I know I appreciate coming home on a daily basis to the quiet of home, compared to the noise of the store, where I can think without interruption, for the comfort of sitting in my favorite chair, for the light tapping of rain on the metal roof as I was typing this paragraph, for the relaxation from stepping out into the garden, observing insects among the flowers, and for the domestic smells of dinner cooking in the kitchen. Home represents a place where favorite books are nearby, the TV can be on or off, I can read for an hour without interruption or step out into nature at will. Home represents freedom, relaxation and security.
I think for the HUU congregation those elements of feeling safe, comfortable and spiritually enriched are all applicable. As well I believe that the camaraderie I felt with my siblings, compared to being out in the world in general, is one of the most important reasons we return to this spot on the earth. Alone in the universe there is much that frightens us. Together, we can relax a bit more, even in the face of that which is frightening. Knowing that someone has our back, (and having each other’s back is important here—remember that) can give us a sense of added security.
Coming home for this congregation, after over two years of experiencing virtual home, can be a feel good moment, if we let it. We can interrupt those feelings if we don’t trust our community, perhaps if we think there’s someone in the community who doesn’t “like” us. I know all about not trusting the community. In my years of figuring out my sexual orientation, I often felt sidelined by siblings and my community. What I learned in the empowering moment of coming out was that it was not other people not liking me that made all the difference, rather it was all about Merle liking Merle. Once we embrace our total being, the flaws idiosyncrasies, it prevents others the ease of getting “under our skin.” After this personal renewal all I needed to do to be an equal part of the community was to forgive the assumed trespasses of others and the real trespasses of my own. I believe this happens here too, when we embrace all the members of our congregation, beautiful cracks and imperfections, then we have reached the ultimate sense of community.
Two well-known examples of coming home that popped into my consciousness as I prepared these comments were the return of the prodigal son and the return of Odysseus’ (Ulysses in the Latin, Iliad) from his twenty year Trojan War excursion. What’s remarkably similar about the stories is how quickly ill feelings created by separation can evaporate. Although the prodigal son’s brother is astounded that his wildcat brother is so quickly redeemed by “Just showing up,” the head of the household is all forgiving. The father knows that the act of coming home reflects wisdom gained by the estranged son. Forgiveness is easy when love abides. Home at HUU should be a place where we are forgiven our misdeeds more rapidly than in the outside world in general.
In the case of Odysseus’s return to his wife Penelope, it’s the dog Argos that gives it away. By their keen sense of smell and body recognition, the dog gives the same automatic welcome that the father did to the prodigal son. Dogs hold no grudges against their fair comrades. That’s why for so many in this room, the four-legged inhabitants of the home are a steadfast element of what coming home encompasses. We don’t have dogs and cats here at HUU, but we might work to achieve the same level of trust and loyalty that our pets teach us.
A final aspect of homecoming that I want to point out is that when we can come to rest after the arduous journey of being separated, it also is a time to make dreams come true. Being separated has given us more time than usual to be at home imagining the future, or our own lives, but also of this congregation. To come back together means we have a combined energy to take the next steps in cementing our destiny in the community. I feel this budding energy in Paula’s work with the children and her initiatives to form a young adult’s group, I feel in in Irvin Peckham’s leadership in the Faith in Action effort, and I feel it in our return to being present in social justice actions such as the Tuesday evening climate action on Court Square that was organized by CAAV and 50 by 25 Harrisonburg Renewable Energy Campaign. I feel it in the actual vibrations of Dee’s voice and the piano as they resonate through this acoustically pleasant space. I feel it in the efficiency with which Tom Hook, our office manager handles the administrative details of our congregation. I feel the optimism when I survey our buildings and grounds and recognize how the natural world continued growing and being maintained throughout our absence. I feel hope for the future when I view the solar panel array that powers our building. I feel hopeful when I know this service is made accessible far beyond this tiny space due to the skill of our tech team and their relentless efforts. I feel gratified when I see visitors who joined us during Covid and are still here today, both online and in the building. We return with renewed energy to move forward. Also it gives me confidence in the fact that we have maintained a strong financial basis throughout the pandemic that bodes well for our future. A final recognition goes the board and all that committees that function its direction: they have all functioned smoothly—almost as if un-phased by the pandemic.
May we take this day to celebrate our beginnings, chartered in 1989, our struggles of the past 33 years, and our survival through the past 28 months. Let us eagerly open our story to the next chapter in the history of HUU with energy, love for each other, and anticipation. May it be so. May we all be blessed.