Rev. Dr. Kent Ulery

The Closeness We Wish For

By Kent Ulery
Interim Associate Conference Minister

Grace to you and peace, from Christ Jesus, the one who is the head of the church. Thank you for welcoming me so warmly into your midst. Our first month serving the southern associations has been full as relationships have begun to form, and as challenges have presented themselves. Truly we are grateful for this opportunity to serve Christ by serving you during the next couple years as the Wisconsin Conference undergoes great  transformation.

Transitions are rarely easy, particularly ones as substantial as the Holy Spirit is working in our midst. As I’ve traveled among you, I’ve heard expressions of confusion and denial, anger and grief, hesitancy and hope, acceptance and embracing, eagerness and dreaming. We are experiencing the full spectrum of human reaction to change as we wave goodbye to one structure and wave hello to another, as we wave goodbye to one set of leaders and wave hello to someone new. Widespread is the desire for more information, along with complaints about lack of communication. Beneath that is the longing for relationship and the fear of its loss.

A year-and-a-half ago, I stopped the car one day along a lonely Maine road to listen to Garrison Keillor’s The Writer’s Almanac, as he read this poem by Maine’s poet laureate, Wesley McNair:

Why,
when we say goodbye at the end of an evening,
do we deny we were saying it at all
as in “We’ll be seeing you,”
or “I’ll call,”
or “Stop in, somebody’s always at home”?
Meanwhile, our friends, telling us the same things,
go on disappearing beyond the porch light into the space which
except for a moment here or there
is always between us no matter what we do.

Waving goodbye, of course, is what happens when the space gets too large for words
— a gesture so innocent and lonely it could make a person weep for days.

Think of the hundreds of unknown voyagers in the old, fluttering newsreel
patting and stroking the growing distance between their nameless ship and the port they are leaving,
as if to promise “I’ll always remember,”
and, just as urgently, “Always remember me.”

Is it loneliness, too, that makes the neighbor down the road
lift two fingers up from his steering wheel as he passes day after day on his way to work
in the “hello” that turns into “goodbye”?

What can our own raised fingers do for him,
locked in his masculine purposes and speeding away inside the glass?

How can our waving wipe away the reflex
so deep in the woman next door
to smile and wave on her way into her house with the mail
we’ll never know if she is happy or sad or lost?

It can’t.

Yet in that moment before she and all the others and we ourselves turn back to our disparate lives,
how extraordinary it is that we make this small flag with our hands to show the closeness we wish for
in spite of what pulls us apart again and again:
the porch light snapping off,
the car picking its way down the road through the dark. [1]

Much time is spent in the church with matters of theology and ethics, justice and mercy, administration and worship. During times of transitions, whether in the life of the associations or in the lives of our sisters and brothers in the pews, we must also attend to
matters of loneliness and relationship – as the poet put it, to “the closeness we wish for.”

I think of St. Paul who, along with proclamation and exhortation, lovingly waved hello and goodbye in his letters:
“To all God’s beloved in Rome…Grace to you and peace…”
To the Corinthians:  “I give thanks to my God always for you…”
To the Philippians:  “My brothers and sisters, whom I love and long for, my joy
and crown…”

No doubt, today he would write:
“Tim says ‘hi.’  So do Jason and Lou…”
“Please remember me to Julie and Mary…and to Rufus’ mom who was like a
real mom to me…”
“Give everyone there a kiss from me…”

Throughout his ministry, Paul waved hello and goodbye with blessings of “Grace and Peace”– peace being thatwhich creates relationship, grace being that which overcomes loneliness, both through the power of God’s love extended through our love.

May your ministries attend to “the closeness we wish for” in the church and in the culture.  And as we move through this difficult time of transition in the Wisconsin Conference’s life, may we wave goodbye with grace, and wave hello with peace, empowered to do so by these gifts:
The grace of our God,
the love of the Lord,
and the strength of the Spirit.

October 2011

xxxxxxx

Robert Mutton retires