Testimony of Cameron Linton, October 20, 2002
A year ago I said that the timing was right in my personal and spiritual growth path to engage in a leadership role with the Board of our Congregation. I wanted to contribute to a community-oriented, nonprofessional organization that respected the concept of a vision; that was caring; and had unlimited potential for growth. In exchange for the opportunity to serve in this role I offered my community and professional experience and my willingness to embrace the work at hand.
My vision was that I could strengthen the Congregation’s governance; orient the Congregation’s capabilities to help build the unfolding national community; and yes, just help keep the place running.
Being sensorial I prefer to grow through experience, not through study. Of the many Small Groups that I could have joined I thought the Board would best enable me to embody the principles of this organization. The Board may not be a quiet, contemplative, meditation group. But it is a Small Group with its own rituals, exploration of meaning, and interface to the rest of the congregation.
So, where am I in my growth?
After the first item of the first Board meeting I chaired – I barely survived a non-confidence vote. By my third meeting I couldn’t construct an agenda with relevant content. Then I heard that voice that told me I was missing an opportunity and needed to redirect my energy. Of course, the voice was Donna’s and the message was to engage the Board in the shared responsibility of owning the future and mobilizing around a vision. So at that meeting we established a small vision. Interesting for me, the team’s vision did not match mine of a year ago. Instead of governance, national identity and survival we had intimacy, local identity and celebration.
Through my Board experience I have experienced how leadership goes beyond management, beyond the governance process that enables management, and beyond the establishment of a vision. It is not found in dealing with administrative details, not in lobbying for volunteers to do initiatives, and certainly not in waiting for guidance. And the test for success? Does this organization support your individual ministry and service for a common good?
Testimony of Art Brewer, October 6, 2002
Why do we want to grow? Most of us feel we have found something quite unique in our Unitarian Universalist faith and we believe it’s worth sharing. That’s challenging for us, because we don’t proselytize or evangelize. Let me just say: this religion is not like others. So, if you’re visiting today, and have been suspicious of – or perhaps even "burned by" - organized religion, I congratulate you on your attendance today, and encourage you to come back a few times to see just how different we are.
The sign outside our entrance says "WARNING: Entering here may seriously change your life." In her sermon last week, Laura Friedman, our Intern Minister asked "How many Unitarians does it take to change a life?" In my case, the answer is about 400. I joined this congregation in 1993, and that’s how many members we had then. As I came to know the people here, I realized that –unlike most religious communities- this is a safe place for a gay man.
So, in 1997, I came out to the congregation in a testimony like the one I’m delivering right now. I was 53, and had spent 40 years living a very single, solitary life in the closet. This was a life changing event. Well, not really an event. Coming out is a never-ending process because our heterosexist society leads most of us to assume that people we meet are "straight." I have more friends now -of all sexual and affectional orientations and gender identities - than ever before, and I consider these to be the best years of my life. Here, my sexuality is acknowledged and affirmed when appropriate. The only closets we need at 1st Unitarian are the ones in which people hang their clothes. But my sexuality is also ignored when appropriate. This is exactly as it should be. My sexuality is only a part of who I am, and a faith community like ours reaches the zenith of its potential when it cradles its members in their hurt, welcomes them in their diversity, and facilitates their opportunities to change the world.
In 1998, this congregation voted unanimously to become a Welcoming Congregation (capital W, capital C). A Welcoming Congregation is one which has completed a program and publicly affirms that it welcomes the membership and active participation of lesbians, gay men, bisexual and/or transgender people.
With this as the backdrop, Laura’s question ("How many Unitarians does it take to change a life?") for me, morphed into "How many lives can this Unitarian change?" I have become a Welcoming Congregation activist. While two-thirds of Canada’s Unitarians belong to officially certified Welcoming Congregations, many have still not done the program. During the past year, I have delivered a Sunday service speech (call it a sermon if you wish) on this program to six Unitarian congregations in Ontario. On half of those occasions, members came out to their congregations right after the service. I believe I helped change some lives. Next week, I’ll lead a workshop on the Welcoming Congregation program at one of our Vancouver congregations. Yesterday, I was asked if I would be interested in addressing the Albany, New York Unitarian Universalist society.
One of my other passions is service to this congregation. Because of all it gives to me, I am happy to contribute my time, talent, energy and money. There are many rewarding opportunities. This year, I am serving as leader of our All-Member Canvass, the campaign to receive pledges of financial contributions from members and friends for our 2003 operating budget. It costs about half a million dollars a year to keep this community operating.
This is the first time in fifteen years that we have run our annual pledge campaign as an All-Member Canvass. How does it work? Every member becomes an active participant in the process. In small, informal, face-to-face meetings, we discuss the role of this congregation in our lives, and the valuable work we carry out in the larger community. These discussions help us to develop a renewed understanding of our individual and collective missions - "who" and "why" we are in the world. There is a very real link between our mission and our money, or at least there should be. We hope that this year’s canvass approach will help people determine a pledge that reflects their mission and how they honour it through membership in this community.
As leader of the Canvass this year, I’ve carefully considered my approach to charitable donations. I’ve thought about what 1st Unitarian has done for me. I’ve thought about how wealthy I am compared to so many in the world. I’ve thought about my giving potential. I’ve thought about all the good work carried out by people in this and other Unitarian congregations...from Out-of-the Cold volunteer work in Toronto, to social justice issues in Canada, to helping build schools, women’s shelters and housing in Central America. I’ve even looked at old income tax returns and realized that my approach to giving in the past has been ad hoc and reactive. From now on, it will be proactive. Starting this year, I’ll pledge 3% of my before tax income to Toronto 1st. I’ll give additional amounts to the Canadian Unitarian Council and other charitable organizations on a planned basis. 3% seems like such a tiny portion of my income for an institution that is so important to me, so I’m considering increasing that percentage in future. If everyone gave 3%, we’d easily cover our operating budget. If you’re a member or friend of this congregation, please consider pledging 3% of your before tax income. If you’re a visitor, allow me to put this testimony in perspective. We don’t talk about this stuff every Sunday! Our annual pledge campaign is only held once a year. You just happened to visit when we’re doing it. And if 3% seems like a lot, consider that an average wage earner in Canada would spend as much on a couple of cups of coffee each day.
More than one hundred members are actively working on the canvass now, and we’re planning to finish the project by October 31st. To all who have participated to date, I say "thank you!"
There are still several openings for Canvassers. It’s a short term volunteer opportunity that requires only a few hours in the coming weeks, and provides an occasion to spend some time with another member whose company you enjoy, or to get to know one of our newer members. We’re not asking you to ask others for money. I know many feel uncomfortable doing that. We’re asking you to share your stories about your relationships with Toronto 1st. If this seems like something you’d be willing to contribute to this community, please see me after the service.
Testimony of Pat Skippon, September 22, 2002
My name is Pat Skippon; I have been a Unitarian Universalist for many years, since the day I walked into the UU Community Church in Santa Monica, California. There I found my spiritual home, and I have never looked back. After I returned to Toronto, First Unitarian Congregation became that home for me, and for most of the intervening years. I have always been an active member here, serving on committees, leading workshops and, my great love, singing in the choir.
All this changed four years ago when, after a period of unusual fatigue, I underwent medical tests, and was diagnosed with a form of bone marrow cancer called Myelodysplasia. It is thought to be caused by environmental factors.
This was devastating news to me, and to my partner, Jeannelle. Our information from the Internet was frightening. Some patients die within months. We eventually found out that my category of the disease was given 2 to 5 years, and we set about learning to live with that diagnosis. It has changed our lives dramatically. Because of fatigue I have had to give up evening activities, including, to my sorrow, the choir. Traveling has become increasingly difficult requiring finally, wheelchairs and other supports .
For three years little changed except that my hemoglobin was very slowly dropping, until last February when I needed a blood transfusion. I have had four so far, and I am now dependent on transfusions about every 8 weeks.
Although my quality of life has diminished somewhat, my zest for life has not. I exercise, read, paint and continue some morning activities here at the church. All this is possible because of the help of my partner, Jeannelle, and my extended family.
I have been blessed by the support of this religious community. Mark and Donna are available whenever I need to talk. Shortly after my diagnosis, two women from Interweave visited, bringing a long list of tasks the group was prepared to help with. We haven’t needed the help as yet, but were deeply touched by the offer. And I always find someone here willing to listen when I feel down, and to cheer me on when things look better.
I was going to talk about facing my death, but right now I can think only of my sister, who is slowly and peacefully dying in palliative care. My fear and grief for her are mixed with feelings about my own death. Since I have no belief in an afterlife, I am thankful to be here and sustained in this place as I continue on my journey.
Testimony of Margaret Joyce, February 17, 2002
The year 2001 was a year of change in the whole Church community. As you are aware, at the annual meeting of the Canadian Unitarian Council in May delegates voted to transfer the delivery of most services from the U.S. based Association to the CUC., an historic decision. Here in our own congregation at the annual meeting in June, the majority approved the publishing of banns for same-sex marriages. Another decision.. As the year progressed we were asked to explore the roots of our faith and to decide whether we were theists, humanists, mystics or naturalists. Decisions again.
While I had no problem with most of these choices, one in particular gave me cause for concern. I simply could not approve the conclusion regarding the publishing of banns. What was I to do? Was I to accept the majority decision or was I to leave the church because I disapproved of one of its policies? First Unitarian had become my spiritual home. Could I give it up? Could I give up the fellowship and inspiration of the Sunday morning services that sustained me, not just for the day but all week? Could I give up Daytimers and my friends there? Who would take my place on my monthly Sunday of duty at the Welcome Table?
My dilemma refused to go away. I found that not only was I unable to decide what to do, I became aware of feelings of anger and resentment at the source of my unhappiness. Finally, after much soul searching and some loss of sleep I took my problem to Mark.
In his wisdom he did not advise me what to do. He realized that the decision had to be mine. He did however help me by pointing out that Unitarian Universalism is a democracy. Decisions are made by the will of the majority. Unitarians are known for their tendency to discuss and debate issue. Even on the Internet arguments have been know to flourish between the theists, humanists and mystics. Rarely is there 100% agreement on any issue.
Our discussion gave me much food for thought. I remembered back to the dim distant past of my school days and my struggles with math. Somewhere, I think it had to do with geometry and angles, was a theory that stated that the whole is the sum of its parts. Transferring that theory to my situation the whole is the church community; its parts are its members, policies, beliefs and traditions. On the back of the Order of Service we read that we covenant to affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person, acceptance of one another and the right of conscience. These covenants too are some of the parts that make up the whole.
I have come to think of the church as a family. In a good family you accept and love all of its members, even those whose views differ from yours. Thinking this way made me realize how insignificant my problem was in the whole picture. I did not have to give up my "safe haven in a hectic world" just because I disagreed with one of its parts.
As you see I am still here. I did not leave. Next week I will celebrate my birthday, a significant one this year because it will bring me closer to 90 than I am to 80. I look forward to spending my remaining years within the circle of this warm caring community of Toronto First, my spiritual home.
Testimony of Ellen Campbell, February 10, 2002
You’d have thought, after 24 years as an executive at two different charitable organizations, the YWCA and the Canadian Unitarian Council, I’d be ready for some other type of activity—needlework, perhaps, or learning Sanskrit, or playing bridge. And it’s true that for the first year of my retirement I didn’t do much besides read, clean out drawers, and nag Doug about the stacks of papers on every available surface in our apartment. But here I am now, on two boards and a committee, doing much the same kind of work as a volunteer that I did so long for pay.
What is it that draws some of us, like moths to a flame, to activity that many people think is as appealing as a root canal?
Is it the three day meetings, the business broken up by meals and coffee breaks during which we often talk about the same things we’ve been dealing with formally in the meetings?
Is it the reams of paper we get in the mail to read, which usually end up in one of those stacks?
Is it the opportunity to function by arcane rules of order, develop complex "mandates" and strategic plans?
Well, yes and no. Some of my closest friendships have developed as I worked with people to build strong organizations—at those long board meetings. Those piles of paper document significant and meaningful work. And those arcane rules and mandates and plans provide orderly ways for people to make decisions and to have impact on the community around them.
But what it comes down to is that I really love to work as part of an organization that is doing worthwhile work. Working with others to dream dreams and then find ways of making them real, seeing change—often slow, but perceptible—drawing new people in and re-involving people from the past—these are the kind of things that make me feel that life is worth living.
Will I still be an institutional junkie at 91? Who knows? But I’m not ready to quit cold turkey now—or for a long time to come.