“Return to the holy intimacy of being alive.”
—John Roedel
At the end of a church meeting, a handful of people lingered in our conference room when someone relatively new to our congregation took a deep breath and a big risk—because he didn’t know many of the people present. He began by expressing dismay about rising facism in our country, evidenced most troublingly by the current assault on trans people and immigrants.
What followed wasn’t an intellectual conversation; he didn’t recite news headlines. Rather, he opened his heart, looked around the circle, and said with emotion, “I really don’t know what to do. I’m very frightened for my trans child.” He described the pain of balancing his desire to be a public advocate with his child’s desire to maintain a low profile.
I was already touched by that act of vulnerability—but the people in the room responded with compassion and tenderness I could never have imagined or dictated. When the father said, “I know this isn’t about me,” someone else in the circle said, “Wait: it is about you. It’s definitely about your child, but it’s also about you and your feelings. It’s OK to bring that here.”
Another person offered, “My sister is trans and I’ve had times of really worrying about her. She led a service here this summer and it might offer you encouragement.” Another said, “Listen, I’m a teacher and I work with the queer and allies club at the high school in the next town over. I’d love to get together with you and listen to more of your story. Maybe I could help.”
It went on like that for quite some time. No one was trying to rescue or save anyone. They didn’t jump into problem solving. Rather, they responded to his open heart by opening their own, and that sacred gesture was resplendent with transformative potential. This is what shared ministry is all about: not finding a technical fix for every challenge, but creating the conditions for genuine and sacred connections to be made.
These days, it can be tempting to doubt whether congregational life makes a difference. Our showing up for one another in spiritual community—day in and day out, week in and week out—might feel mundane…but sometimes it’s the very thing that facilitates the breaking through of Spirit, Love, or meaning.
Prayer
Transforming Spirit, at work both through and in spite of us, kindle our courage to take risks for love and connection. In times of fear and overwhelm, remind us we are not on our own, but intricately woven together in community. Between us, Love’s power is most fierce. May we open ourselves more fully to its potential. Amen.
Editor’s note: The author of this reflection serves as minister of a UU congregation on the east coast. However, they’ve chosen to remain anonymous to provide privacy and safety to the people described above.