The Fall Overturn

By Dr. Bruce T. Marshall
September 12, 2010

This morning we have been using the image of water: water that gives us life, water representing different places and experiences, waters we combine to signify the diversity of our congregation flowing as one stream. I would like to stick with that image and note a phenomenon that occurs in lakes and ponds known as “the overturn.” When this happens in the fall, it’s known as the fall overturn.

During the summer, the sun shines down on bodies of water, heating them, making the water warm. The water at the top of a pond or a lake gets the direct sun and so it is warmer than the water below. You might have experienced this. Step into a pond or a lake—any body of water, really—and at the top, the temperature is quite comfortable. But below the surface, it’s cooler. The farther down you go, the cooler it gets. This is called “layering.” Different layers of water have different temperatures. So maybe the water at your chest feels warm; down by your feet, it might be pretty chilly.

Warm water is less dense than cold water. That is, it doesn’t weigh as much. That’s another reason the water is at the top of a pond or a lake is warmer during the summer months. The water that has been warmed by the sun floats at the top, over the cooler, denser, heavier water below.

But what happens in the fall? The air temperature drops, and it cools the water: particularly the water on the top layer which is most directly exposed to the air. At night, when the temperature falls, the upper layer of water cools faster than the sun can warm it during the increasingly short days.

What develops then is a condition of instability. The water at the top is becoming cooler, denser, heavier. The water at the bottom does not come directly in contact with the cooler fall air, and it retains warmth that has built up during the summer. So we have denser heavier water at the top/warmer lighter water at the bottom. What’s going to happen?

At some point, the cool heavier water at the top sinks, displacing the warmer water at the bottom. Hence, the fall overturn.

As the waters shift during the overturn, they stir up everything else. Plant life that was mired at the bottom now finds itself pushed up to the top. The water at the top that had absorbed oxygen through being exposed to air now brings that oxygen down to the bottom. And so ponds and lakes that might have grown stagnant during the summer get an infusion of life. Fish and other animals that live in the water, receive a new source of oxygen. The plants get stirred up, exposed to light, enabling them to grow. And so the overturn is an essential part of the life cycle of a body of water. Without it, the lake or pond would fill in and die.

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At the beginning of a church year, I think about the overturn and how that natural phenomenon also occurs within a congregation. During the fall, activities start again, visitors appear, new ideas come forth, when there’s a rush of energy—all of which have the potential of making things unstable. Yet, it is this very instability we depend upon to let in air and light.

Here at Davies we are in an unstable situation. Your previous settled minister left just a year ago. Your next settled minister will not be here until next year at this time. And so we are right dead center in the middle of two interim years.

Last year—the first of this interim—we looked back a lot. Who have we been as a congregation, as a people, as participants in the tradition of religious liberalism? What have we stood for/what have we done? What are the essential affirmations of our Unitarian Universalist tradition? What has been the relationship with our ministers—for better and for worse? How has participation in this congregation made a difference in our lives? How have we impacted the wider community, the nation, the world?

This year our focus shifts from looking back to looking ahead. From considering who have we been to who we want to be. From the effects we have had on people’s lives to what we want those to be. From what our role in the community has been to what we would want it to be. From who our ministers have been to who we would like our next minister to be. From our history to our dreams.

Already things are going on to help create our future. I’ll name a few, realizing that I’ll probably leave some others out. The mission/vision process in which we participated last year continues. Rich and Angel have guided us through this process thus far and will continue to do so, even though Rich has moved to Minnesota. He’ll be our advisor from afar while Angel is here with us on the ground. The next step will be creation of a strategic plan for the congregation. Angel will be working on that throughout the fall, doing more interviews, crunching more numbers, ultimately creating a strategic plan to present to the congregation—a plan for how we get from where we are to where we want to be.

On another front, the Search Committee is engaged in the process of identifying a new minister for the congregation. At this point, their work is mostly behind the scenes. You will seem them running around, gathering papers, talking intently with each other, maybe looking just a bit stressed. That’s all ok. That’s what they’re supposed to be doing. As a reminder of who is on the Davies search committee: Isis Johnson is chair. Other members are Jean Smith, Robert Willis, Ros Wynard, Joyce Dowling, Angel Savoy-James, and Preston Mears.

Right now, they are putting together what’s called a packet, that is, information about Davies to share with prospective candidates. Later in the fall, they will receive packets from pre-candidates, who are ministers interested in serving here at Davies. The committee will review the packets and decide upon several people to interview in person. These pre-candidates will come here to meet the committee and give a sermon at another congregation—not at this one yet. The committee will then make a decision about who they think would be the best fit for us and offer that opportunity to the minister they have chosen. If he or she accepts, that pre-candidate becomes the candidate to present to the congregation.

If all goes well, the candidate will come here to Davies during the spring. He or she will present a Sunday service and then for a week the candidate will meet with groups throughout the congregation, getting to know you, letting you get to know him or her. Finally at the end of the week, the candidate will give another sermon. After that one, there will be a congregational meeting at which members will vote yes or no: will we or will we not call this person as the next settled minister at Davies?

That candidating week, by the way, makes for a fairly grueling job interview. My first was at the Unitarian Universalist Church in Flint, Michigan. I got to Wednesday evening, midway between my two candidating sermons. There was a dinner at a member’s home where I think the RE committee was in attendance. The hostess announced that dinner was served. I stood up and promptly fainted. Passed out cold. I had graduated from theological school the week before, had completed my thesis work just before that, moved out of my apartment, I was coming down with a cold or flu or something: my body finally said, “enough,” in a convincing way.

I was, of course, the talk of the church the next day, but I pulled myself together, stayed conscious throughout the rest of my meetings, and I got the call. I never again fainted in that church or in any other though I sometimes hinted that I might, which gave me a certain quiet power.

One more thing I should say about the search process. It’s very thoroughly planned and laid out, based on years of experience, but it doesn’t always go smoothly. Glitches can develop; it just happens. So we need to cut the search committee—and ourselves—some slack. It will work out as it works out.

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So what about the rest of us: those who aren’t preparing materials for the strategic plan and those of us who aren’t on the Search Committee? We just wait around until spring for the candidate to arrive, right? And then we wait until the fall for the new minister to get started so that he or she can chart the course, right?

Ah, no. Would that it be so easy. We also have work to do. Remember: this year we’re about preparing for the future, getting things ready for the new settled minister, moving us toward the congregation we want to be. Everybody has a role to play.

I would like to highlight three realms I think are particularly important here right now at Davies, three realms to which we might profitably turn our attention. Of course, there are others. But I want to emphasize these three.

The first is to continue to open up the congregation, how we’re organized, how we do things. Over the years, particularly in a small church, things can get kind of ingrown, a little tired, like a pond at the end of summer before the fall overturn. We keep on going like we always have but gradually the energy drains from the activities. Then we need to let in more air and light and nutrients.

Already I see this opening up in process. New people are joining committees. New committees are forming or being reconstituted. We’re trying to involve people in meaningful ways, listen to the insights we each bring. The Board has been working on making our procedures—that is, how we do things—more transparent. If an organization operates too informally then the information is mostly stored in the heads of people who have been around for a long time. It becomes hard for new people to access that information, to figure out how to have a meaningful role. So as we become attentive to “how things work” around here, it makes the congregation more accessible.

I think this is a time for each committee and group in the church to do some dreaming—consider what you would like to do, maybe that you haven’t done before. It’s also a time to become very intentional about involving new people, thinking about what each committee can do to welcome and include those who are now coming into our congregation. Extend personal invitations. Make some calls. Not just a general, “Would anybody like to do....whatever.” But make it personal. “We really think you have something special to offer. We know you’re busy with all kinds of other things, but we would really value your participation.”

My second area of focus is related to the first. It is to build upon the diversity this congregation already has. In our society, diversity does not come naturally. It takes commitment, and it takes desire. Yes, there is joy in diversity, but there’s a lot of work to get to the joy.

We tend to be cautious around people we perceive as different from ourselves, even suspicious. Look at all the ill-will that keeps churning up toward Islam. People perceive that faith tradition as different and therefore threatening, and the walls between us and them grow higher. Throughout the history of this nation, the life experience of whites and African Americans has been different, and a similar suspiciousness runs deep. Yet, we are all Americans, we are all people. We share much in common: hopes and sorrows, we know the joy of dreams realized and the hurt of dreams denied, we all know love and beauty and yearning.

And there is a small but persistent minority among both whites and blacks in this country that finds ourselves drawn to an approach to religion and spirituality valuing free thought, openness, the encouragement to wonder and explore, who find spirituality best expressed by attentiveness to the human condition, the pain and the possibilities of being human. That’s us. Despite the differences of our experiences, there is something deep and true that draws us together.

Davies is already a leader among Unitarian Universalist congregations in creating a stable diverse church. But we can never take it for granted—and there is more we can do. For example, I wonder if there are ways to become better connected to our immediate neighborhood. We’re kind of an island out here. I don’t think we know many of the people around us; I don’t think many of them know us. I realize that there have been efforts in the past that haven’t been particularly successful, but that doesn’t mean we should stop trying.

Let me tell you a story. This past summer Amy and I took a weekend trip to my hometown in Illinois: Quincy, Illinois, to visit my parents and sister and extended family. This story is not about that visit. It’s about what happened here when we were on the airplane, flying back. A big storm hit Silver Spring, where we live. It was one of those super thunder and rain and wind storms that have been part of our summer.

We were up in the air, probably somewhere over Indiana or Ohio when this storm tore through Maryland. We knew nothing of it until I turned my cell phone back on upon arrival at National Airport. There was a message from our next door neighbor, saying that a storm had broken lose a branch which had gone through the back window of our car, parked out in front. She also said that she and another neighbor had taped plastic over the break—actually the whole back window was gone—so that more rain wouldn’t come in. And oh, by the way, did we want a ride from the Metro Station?

That’s what neighbors do. They look out for each other. They watch our houses and cars. They tape up broken windows. Maybe there are ways for us to be more neighborly to those around us. And maybe some of our neighbors might come to care for us as people, even if they are not Unitarian Universalist. (By the way, I notice that sign on Temple Hill Road that we’ve adopted this stretch of road. That’s good stuff.)

Hence my second area for attentiveness: diversity, neighborliness. I suggested earlier that each committee—each group here at Davies—might consider the question: “How can we become more open, more welcoming, more inclusive?” These same committees and groups might also address the question: “What can we do to promote Davies as a welcoming, inclusive, diverse congregation?” “How can we extend our own gospel of love to those for whom we have something to offer?”

A third area of focus: this building. Attentiveness to our facilities. Get this place looking good and running smoothly. The process of finding a new minister is a courtship. What do you do when you’re courting? You get dressed up. You make yourself look good. The candidate will want to look good for us. We want to good look for the candidate.

And in fact, this too is already going on. Last spring the sanctuary was painted, we’ve been addressing the mold issue in RE, added some fresh paint, we’ve gotten rid of some of the old stuff, fixed other things, purchased new equipment. To me, the place looks and runs better than it did last year at this time.

As Unitarian Universalists, we tend to be a little casual about our facilities. I don’t know why this is. In our theology we focus on the here and the now, but in our building maintenance, we get quite otherworldly. Kind of like, “Well, the Lord will provide.” What I want to say is that facilities maintenance is an important part of the renewal process. If the paint is fresh and the grounds are maintained and the building is clean, we all feel better about ourselves.

So: opening up the congregation, attending to our diversity, shoring up the facilities. The good news is that we’re already working in these areas. This is not starting anything new but, rather, building on what is already going on. And this is good stuff. We’re shaping our future. We’re making steps toward becoming the congregation we want to be.

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The fall overturn—when it occurs in nature—is messy. Plants and leaves and fish and dead things all get stirred up. Which is similar to what happens when our personal lives get stirred up: it’s messy. Plants and leaves and fish and dead things start floating around. It does not feel like a safe place to swim.

Same with a church, a congregation. I sometimes think of the quotation by the writer, John Galsworthy. He observed, “The beginnings and endings of all human undertakings are untidy....” Yes, untidy. That names it well. Times of transition in a congregation can also be untidy.

What I want to leave you with this morning is the thought that there’s nothing wrong with that: with transitions, interims, changes, overturns. It is a natural part of the life cycle. It is what brings new life to us all.