Tuesday Truth
Engaging Our Truth
Our BUU Congregational Town Hall met on June 30 at 11am
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On June 30 at 11am, Rev. Sarah lit the chalice with these words and began our town hall meeting online:
Look well to the growing edge! All around us worlds are dying and new worlds are being born; all around us life is dying and life is being born. The fruit ripens on the tree, the roots are silently at work in the darkness of the earth against a time when there shall be new leaves, fresh blossoms, green fruit. Such is the growing edge! It is the extra breath from the exhausted lung, the one more thing to try when all else has failed, the upward reach of life when weariness closes in upon all endeavor. This is the basis of hope in moments of despair, the incentive to carry on when times are out of joint and [people] have lost their reason, the source of confidence when worlds crash and dreams whiten into ash. The birth of the child—life’s most dramatic answer to death—this is the growing edge incarnate. Look well to the growing edge! - The Rev. Dr. Howard Thurman
Questions about our current plans and practices were addressed. To read more about our Emergency Plan and current action CLICK HERE.
We then moved to small groups to more intimately discuss these questions:
- What are you grieving about Borderlands pre-COVID?
- What are you holding on to about Borderlands that gets you through this hard time?
- What do you see growing and moving in Borderlands in this time, its “growing edge?”
Coming back together, Rev. Sarah recorded the "headlines" and common themes shared by BUUers from small groups:
Realizing that change is forced on us sometimes and there can be good opportunity that comes from it.
More intimate connection with people is something good that’s coming from this.
More good things can come from this, and create a stronger congregation. What that looks like, we’re not sure yet.
Grieving the missing of those connections that we’re all familiar with.
What we’re holding on to that gets us through: gathering in Zoom groups feels more intimate than coffee hour. This way we’re getting to know each other.
We really do have to find a way to take advantage of our technology strengths and find ways to connect with the people who are not here.
How do we let the missing folks know we care, and work on connecting?
How wonderful the new normal is to connect to far-away members.
Celebrates the power of the we. Maybe we can build that in. A deep and powerful sense of connection.
Missing the physical energy of being with others on Sunday and other times. A lot of grief. Reliving negative times in our lives, memories from the past.
“I’ve never been so damn busy doing things on Zoom and projects as I have now!”
Missing the gallery exhibit, missing music and singing together. Loss of creative expression.
Losing congregants to death, missing them terribly, not being able to gather physically for memorials and support.
Missing Matthew’s sermons on a more regular basis. Missing the inspiration of building community with like-minded people on a one to one basis.
Missing the sense of being together--a palpable energy that you can’t find online.
Identifying programs and needs that can be developed--things we haven’t talked about in the past.
More intimate connection with people is something good that’s coming from this.
More good things can come from this, and create a stronger congregation. What that looks like, we’re not sure yet.
Grieving the missing of those connections that we’re all familiar with.
What we’re holding on to that gets us through: gathering in Zoom groups feels more intimate than coffee hour. This way we’re getting to know each other.
We really do have to find a way to take advantage of our technology strengths and find ways to connect with the people who are not here.
How do we let the missing folks know we care, and work on connecting?
How wonderful the new normal is to connect to far-away members.
Celebrates the power of the we. Maybe we can build that in. A deep and powerful sense of connection.
Missing the physical energy of being with others on Sunday and other times. A lot of grief. Reliving negative times in our lives, memories from the past.
“I’ve never been so damn busy doing things on Zoom and projects as I have now!”
Missing the gallery exhibit, missing music and singing together. Loss of creative expression.
Losing congregants to death, missing them terribly, not being able to gather physically for memorials and support.
Missing Matthew’s sermons on a more regular basis. Missing the inspiration of building community with like-minded people on a one to one basis.
Missing the sense of being together--a palpable energy that you can’t find online.
Identifying programs and needs that can be developed--things we haven’t talked about in the past.
We concluded with this chalice extinguishing:
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We look with uncertainty
Beyond the old choices for Clear-cut answers To a softer, more permeable aliveness Which is every moment At the brink of death; For something new is being born in us If we but let it. We stand at a new doorway, Awaiting that which comes… Daring to be human creatures. Vulnerable to the beauty of existence. Learning to love - Anne Hillman |
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After we closed and as an added bonus, Rev. Sarah shared this beautiful song from the UUA virtual choir, "Tomorrow":