When I was first heard about the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Frederick, I was…oh….a little stand-offish. For one, I had never heard of such a faith. Okay, Unitarian …unity…that sounded open and inviting. But what the heck was a Universalist? While I would not trade my religious childhood experience for a moment, I’ll admit that being raised in a strict Catholic environment had left me a bit skeptical of religions. Still, I pried open my mind and set out for a visit to Hood College to hear this “cool guy” by the name of Reverend John Morehouse. As I entered the auditorium, I was reminded of some of the parishes my family attended that started in a local elementary school auditorium until they became large enough to afford their own building. The UU service was nice. Storytime was a nice “young” twist. Intimidation wasn’t the largest serving of the day’s lesson. All-in-all, not a bad experience. I liked what I heard and it was nice to feel the sense of ritual again. This Morehouse guy wasn’t half bad. Maybe I’d come back on occasion. And I was forced to embarked upon a period of religious reflection

As the seventh of eight children, I lived the Catholic march of thru baptism, first communion, first confession, catechism and church choir. My siblings all went to Catholic school – I’m not sure how I escaped that experience. My mother followed a strict Catholic faith. There was no question where the Hayes’ would be on Sunday mornings. There was Holy water at church and at the top of the stairs at home. When I visited the houses of my friends, I felt a little out of place. And it occurred to me that outside of the church, we were a little different. In fact, the Pets family who lived down the street and had ten kids were the only other family in our neighborhood that seemed like us. My older siblings would go to their house to baby sit. This always confused me. Heck – isn’t that what they do at home? It was years before I realized they got PAID for it over there! My Uncle Jack was a Monsignor in Pittsburgh and a friend of the family’s was the Cardinal of Detroit. I followed what I was taught and knew it was not to be questioned. But I did. In grade school, I silently questioned the whole Adam and Eve approach. Shhhh! I’ve never been to confession. I always wondered why we needed to tell the priest our sins if God could see them anyway? Besides, isn’t that what our conscience was for? I always felt my guidance from the inside. Didn’t your gut tell when you were doing something bad? And doing something nice and loving always felt good. Didn’t the priest know that? These were big confusions for a young girl filled with insight and intuitions, but no one to talk to about them.

As I grew into adulthood I found myself increasingly confused and faced with a dilemma that I silently coined, “What to do about church?”. Out of tradition, both of my children were baptized in the Catholic faith. At least I exposed them to something religious beyond Santa and the Easter Bunny. I tried taking them to Sunday Mass, but encountered a profound sense of hypocrisy. How could I expect them to follow rules that I didn’t necessarily believe in myself? Some I did, but not all. I couldn’t say...okay let’s pick and choose and we’ll practice those points that we believe in most. I felt a little lost and a lot like a failure. Shouldn’t parents have this religion thing figured out? Mine did, or at least seemed to.

I spent years wishing that I had a spiritual grounding but lacking the courage to go searching. Besides, did I really need it? I had my children, and eventually a second marriage. I was focused on my family, job, and dealing with the trials of life. The search for the right religion wasn’t a priority.

So, when the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Frederick strolled into my life, I wasn’t sure what to do with it. It was, however, growing on me. Then came the Christmas eve service in the chapel at Hood College, when I realized what I had been missing for so many years: a sense of spiritual community. During that service, the warmth of all the spiritual connectedness that I felt as a child came rushing back. Ritual. A feeling of safety, hope, and love among people that didn’t necessarily know one another. But that didn’t matter. Yes, the building made a difference to me. The energy of that chapel felt so strong and whole, that I realized that the congregation had all the qualities of a family. They just needed a place of their own. What I didn’t know was how much I needed them. How much my soul yearned to be fed. And I had no idea the pending change and adversity that my life was about to bring me. I would come to rely on this spiritual community to keep me strong when I wasn’t sure that I could make it. This was not the religion of my childhood. These Unitarian Universalists had something I needed.

I began to get involved. I attended the new comers meeting to learn more about the congregation and the faith it followed. I started volunteering. I had a NAME TAG! And when we moved to this new building, I felt like a part of something special. I was no longer the new kid on the block – we were all new here! I learned that sitting in on a committee meeting would probably land me squarely in some sort of position – scribe, co-chair, chair. I learned that if you said you wanted to help – well, you had better mean it ‘cause they would take you up on it! Arts and decoration, membership, working the auctions, helping with new member wine and cheese gatherings – this church propelled me into a new social group and a new life.
I shared myself and you gave back. And, oh yeah, that Reverend John Morehouse and his sidekick Ron Crawford? Well, they ranked pretty high on my spiritual mentor scale. Finally, my involvement with religion felt instinctively right!
Then, my life was turned upside down by my marital separation. I didn’t really know which way to turn. And I did something I had never in my life done before – I turned to my church. I called Reverend Morehouse. We met and talked about my situation, my connection to this church, and my experiences in life. I shared my certainties and my confusions. And in the months that followed, I grew. I faced my fears, accepted my gifts and drew on a strength that I didn’t know I had. I survived.

My meetings with John continued and he moved into the role of mentor in a more mystical sense. But life got busy and in the next few months my Sunday attendance here began to drop. As John delivered his sermon On Dare to Dream Sunday when we made our financial pledges to the church , my mind wandered and I asked myself if I would still come here if John left. I stared into the rafters and slowly, a sense of determination welled up and a voice in my mind said –
“Yes! You have to stay. You have work to do here.”

Not the first time this has happened, but startling just the same. And as the congregation gathered in a circle, joined hands and sang, I was driven to look to the rafters once more and I found myself asking the energies that I have always felt here to give us guidance, protection, and strength. I knew instinctively that John was not a part of that circle. I glanced back to see him standing behind the pulpit, his energy thinning. And I knew then that he was moving on. So, I was only mildly surprised when two weeks later, Francis Morehouse privately confided in me that she and John would be moving to California. I had felt this. A knowing without really knowing. Francis stared at me intently and said, “There’s a Green River. You have to call it to help and protect this church.” Not knowing about the Green River, I quietly responded, “I’ve already started.”

And on Easter Sunday, as John Morehouse talked to us about leaving he said, “This dream has never been about me. I was just the band leader, you all played the music.” And he shared with us that he and Francis “always imagined that a green river of love and energy ran right thru this place to give us the energy we need to keep this place a place of rebirth.” ⁱ
These words were so inspiring to this months feature artist, Elaine Reinhold, that she took this picture and named it “Green River” in honor of John and his ministry here.

Last December, I journaled a dream during which I met with John and two other people. We were discussing what to do about an area that needed a rug. I had forgotten about this dream, until a more notable part of it came true on April 1st when my 22 year old son got locked in the bathroom and couldn’t get out. Just three days before, John met with Cosette, Sea Raven and me for the first meeting of the newly formed Worship Committee. The four of us discussed the transition involved with John’s departure. And he mentioned that the tapestry storytelling rug belonged to him and Francis. They wanted to take it, but would feel bad leaving us without one. The connection to my dream startled me.

During my next private meeting with John, I asked what they had decided to do about the rug. “Oh, I think we’ll leave it.” I looked at him and said, “Uh, I think you’re supposed to take it. I think we’re supposed to get a rug of our own.” And, I relayed my dream. He laughed and said “Well, I believe your dreams, so I guess we’ll take it.” John chuckled, stroked his beard, and said, “That’s really something.”

So, behind me hangs the start of what I envisioned to be our new rug: A floor cloth recognizing The Green River. Despite my best efforts to arrange to have our replacement rug ready for today, it just didn’t happen. Our expert Angel Painter, Fiona Morehouse moved weeks before she and her husband Aron had originally planned. I began to stress as I watched my vision of a beautiful new floor rug slipping away. Then, reality hit.

This blank canvas is symbolic of the spiritual future of our congregation. It is up to us to paint it. So I call now on the artists of this congregation to volunteer to work with me to help this vision come true. Gather to make this canvas a piece of art to be used as the new story telling rug or even hang here behind the pulpit to mark our new beginning.

In December asked you to listen to your angels. Those inner voices of intuition that nudge you to make a choice or to take a particular action. Today, I ask you to listen to the energy of this church. To listen to the energy that John and Francis Morehouse felt when they first visited the property that this building is standing on. I ask you to join me in The Green River Project. To continue the momentum of our spiritual growth within this community. We have control over the future of our spiritual home. We have control over the future of our message to the community. We have The Green River.

Oh, I can hear some of you right now…. Ha! Right. “A river of energy that feeds souls and brings redemption? Those crazy Morehouses. We’re good to be rid of them. They belong with those zany, sandal wearin’ Californians!” Can I please have a show of hands from everyone who used their radio in the last 48 hours? Come on – hands up. Okay. Now how many of you checked to make sure you could SEE the radio signal before you turned it on? You don’t have to SEE something for it to be there! And whether you see the energy of the Green River literally or metaphorically doesn’t matter. What’s important is that you believe in this church and that we can make a difference --- to each others and to the lives of those we reach. I am living proof of your power to change a person’s life!

I have been so concerned with how to relay this message to you that I encountered a terrible case of writer’s block. I kept thinking, “I’ve been entrusted with an important task. I’ve got to get it right!” So, I went straight to the source and asked The Green River for the answers.

1. What is the Green River?
A river of energy running beneath the church with the Narthex as the tapped well-head.

2. What does the Green River do for the UU?
Provides a source of strength and guidance for all souls in need of help, love, encouragement, and guidance. Spiritual hope. A sense of purpose. Unconditional love when none is found. Community. A wild, wide, current of motion to propel us to do more, reach out to those in need. Give love to one another. Heal our wounds, both the ones we have inflicted on each other and those felt by others outside our community. The river propels us to reach outside our boundaries; to excel past our point of comfort. To see that the time to feel needed IS the time to offer ourselves to others. For our sense of purpose swells in THAT offering! An open hand held out beckons someone in need to garner the courage to grasp it. Those in need see the strength in the open hand. That strength is hope and courage to the weak. Grasp a hand with strength and you will feel the power roll into you. You will feel renewed. When your will is filled, you will offer the strength to the next in need. This is the Green River. Let it flow through you. And, in turn, touch another. One light becomes many. A faint glow becomes a bright Beacon of Hope. Our River of love flows out to heal all it touches.

We are each a drop in the current. Jump in!
And let the wave of the Green River flow over its banks and into our community.

Benediction:
The current of our lives ebb and flow.
Sometimes calm and reflective, other times a great torrent of turmoil so strong we don’t know how we will survive and make it to the other side – to calm again.
An open hand held out beckons someone in need to garner the courage to grasp it.
We are the open hand.
We are the Beacon of Hope.
We are the Green River.
Go now with peace and with love and share our faith.
For now our service to one another and to our community truly does begin.

 ⁱ “Being Born All Over Again: Easter 2005”, Reverend. John Morehouse March 27, 2005
Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Frederick, Maryland