Reading: "Musings of a Pig-Herder", from Infinity in Your Hand by Bill Houff

There are lots of animal analogies to describe what it's like to work with people. Bill Houff talks about the ways we might be like pigs when it comes to getting us moving; many of you have heard it said that at least within our fold, leading or governing UUs is like herding cats.

One of our ministers, Terry Sweetser, uses a somewhat more complementary example in the behavior of Canada geese. All of us have seen their 'V' formations when they're migrating, and most of us probably know that they fly this way because it's the most aerodynamic way they could possibly have discovered. The wind created by the beating wings of each bird creates 'lift' for the ones that follow. In this way, much as it would be for a line of people walking through deep snow, the toughest job is for the bird at the front of the line, the leader. The easiest flying falls to the bird at the back of the line, who benefits from all those flapping wings up ahead.

What many of us might not know is that the geese rotate positions all the time, so that no one goose is flying at the point of the V for too long. When that goose gets tired it falls to the easy place at the rear and a new leader takes over. It's also been shown that the geese are intensely communal; if one goose goes down through sickness or exhaustion, it doesn't go alone: one or two will drop out as well to stay with the fallen one until it can rejoin the migration. And finally, those who are not currently leading the flock honk from behind: they call out their encouragement.

Terry Sweetser draws lessons from the geese for our congregations, our religious communities:
-- rotate leadership so none of you become exhausted
-- keep company with the fallen
-- honk your encouragement from behind

Our congregations are very democratic institutions: they are based on the premise of shared leadership -- based on the idea that, like the geese, we'll trade off roles. It's been said that "democracy is based upon the conviction that there are extraordinary possibilities in ordinary people". When the small democracies of our congregations are running really well, they are doing so because we take that definition to heart. At our best, we allow and encourage the extraordinary possibilities in each of us to shine, so we can move up to the front of the line and find our way to contribute. That means that in a multitude of forms, we're allowing leadership to emerge among us and rotate widely: leadership in creative ideas, in decision-making, in the nitty-gritty work of our committees, in teaching our children, and so on.

But there's a factor that makes leadership in our congregations a rather interesting endeavor, something that ministers need to be particularly alert to: unlike the geese, we have a deep ambivalence about both being leaders and having leaders.

That's why we feel bemused recognition when someone talks about our behavior as the equivalent to herding cats. We are independent and individualistic sometimes to a fault; and even if we actually want to go where our leaders are pointing us, we want to go in our own sweet time. Like the pigs cited by Bill Houff, we want to mill and grunt and fuss, and we want to be very sure we're not being rushed off before we're ready. And of course when we do go, it's unlikely to be in nice, neat "V" formations.

Ambivalence about leadership is not all bad: it keeps us humble, when we have assumed a position of leadership, and it keeps us alert when we're in the position of being the led. It forces us to think carefully about our choices as a group so that there tends to be a high degree of ownership once decisions are finally made.

But our ambivalence about leadership creates problems, too. The most obvious problem is that too many of us are convinced that leadership is someone else's calling, not ours. When we have the same core group of leaders moving to the front of the line year after year, they begin to get a little tired no matter how enthusiastically we honk from behind them.

I know that many of you who are not currently leading us are also tired: you're working too many hours or more than one job; you're taking care of kids and parents and who knows what. There is a time for everything, and it may simply not be your time to shoulder a responsibility here. But sometimes it's something else that holds us back: rather than thinking of the extraordinary possibilities we might bring out in this collective body with our efforts, we think too long on the word "ordinary". We don't have a mental image of ourselves as leaders, so when we're asked to move to the front of the line our first response is simply, "Me? Why me?" It arises not out of selfishness but because we're genuinely convinced, when asked to lead a committee or teach a class or serve on the Board, that someone else could do it better than we can.

As minister, I believe one of my jobs is to move as many of us as possible from "why me?" to a different question, one much better suited to a lively, creative and democratic congregation, which is: "Why not me?" It's sometimes a long, long journey to get from "why me?" to "why not?", but long ago I was comforted to discover that it's a journey we make in good company. The very best company in fact, since it turns out that even God ran into resistance in the perpetual search for good prophets.

Jonah is the most famous evader of leadership; his response to the invitation into leadership was to run down to the port and get on the next outbound boat he could find. But Jonah wasn't the only one. It is enlightening to read again the conversation that supposedly occurred between Moses and God when it was finally time for the Israelites to be liberated from Egypt. This conversation is important for us to review regardless of our theology. It doesn't much matter whether or not we believe the scriptures are divinely inspired -- what's important is that someone, between three and four thousand years ago, thought it important to write up the encounter this way. And in this account, Moses ran through every argument in the book that amounts to 'why me?', even after the highly unusual recruitment strategy of being presented with a burning bush that not only called him by name, but declared itself to be the Lord of Hosts and the Holy of Holies.

Once Moses got over his shock enough to take of his shoes and listen up, God ran through an eloquent, elaborate verbal picture of the glory awaiting the people of Israel. The litany ends with this proposition from the Creator of the Universe: "I have come down to deliver them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey….I have seen how the Egyptians oppress them. So come: I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people out of Egypt!" It's a pretty clear invitation into leadership, and one would think that Moses would be flattered and gratified to play this starring role. However, the very next line reads, "But Moses said to God, 'Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?'" Sound familiar??

God is patient and reassuring and promises Moses, "I will be with you", which if you believe in this particular God, really ought to have been enough. But it's not. Next, Moses challenges God's authority, essentially asking about what kind of mandate he would really have: "If I come to the Israelites and say to them, 'The God of your ancestors has sent me to you' and they ask me, 'What is God's name?', what shall I say to them?" The response is the famous, albeit rather opaque and impenetrable, "I am that I am: Thus you shall say: 'I am' has sent me to you.'

At this point it's hard not to sympathize with Moses when he realizes he will sound like a pretentious fool if this is actually what he says to the Israelites, so he presses God for something more substantial: "But suppose they do not believe me or listen to me, but say 'The Lord did not appear to you'" . So God relents and gives him three different miracles he can perform as proof, turning his staff into a snake and other such tricks of the trade (this is unfortunately no longer a part of leadership training, however).

Now Moses starts to get pathetic in his efforts to escape leadership and he pulls out the key argument that many of you have doubtless also used to evade leadership: he argues that he isn't any good at public speaking: "O my Lord, I have never been eloquent neither in the past nor even now that you're speaking to me; but I am slow of speech and of tongue". God reminds him that he'll be accompanied by the Almighty and that public speaking really isn't all that big of a deal. And even after all of this Moses finally falls back on sheer begging: "Oh, my Lord, send, I pray, some other person".

At this point God has about lost all patience (and was no doubt having serious celestial doubts about the choice of Moses in the first place). In fact in Exodus it says, "Then the anger of the Lord was kindled against Moses". But for reasons that have never been shared with us, God really, really wants Moses to be the leader. So the celestial tendency toward smiting is held in check and instead the exasperated voice says, "What of your brother Aaron? I know that he can speak fluently;… you shall put the words in his mouth; and I will be with your mouth and with his mouth and will teach you what you shall do." This is the first documented use of that wondrous leadership recruiting strategy called 'Co-chairs'. And so it was finally resolved and Moses stepped into leadership and the rest is, as they say, history.

The important point is that despite his reluctance and lack of faith in himself, Moses did finally heed the call, and discovered that contrary to his low self-esteem, he was in fact a powerful and effective leader. When it comes to leadership in our congregations, our ambivalence may not be as great, and the call issued to us hardly as grandiose, as they were for Moses. But when we've run through all the reasons and all the excuses that boil down to "why me?", at our best we will come up against the great mandate of a democratic institution, and we will end the conversation with, "why not me?"

Remember that religious communities, formed out of so many particular individuals, are truly unique human organizations. Think about the multiple roles that any congregation is called on to fill:
-- a spiritual home where we mature in our spiritual practices and insight
-- a school for both children and adults, in which to explore the deepest and most important truths in our lives;
-- a launching pad for our work for justice in the wider world,
-- a touchstone where we mark and name the rites of passage of our lives,
-- a place for comfort and renewal when we are weary or alone .

It takes all of us in order to fulfill these multiple purposes. We need the willingness of every person here to find within him or herself the way to spread your wings in order to assume your position of leadership, whatever it may be. We need the faith of every person that there is something of value that you can give, something of value that every person within this fold can offer.

I once read a story told by a fellow minister that originated with Walter Wieder of Plano Texas. He wrote, "While sitting on the porch and planning the memorial service for a good friend, the following came to light: it seemed that this rather elderly woman, who had known many hard times in her life, was a saver of things and an organizer of the world.

"Because she had been a hoarder, the task of sorting through her many things after her death was a daunting one. But it was made easier by the fact that she'd lived by the motto, 'a place for everything and everything in its place'. She had neatly, meticulously labeled everything she had saved. When the family finally made it to the many boxes in the attic they found, safely stored there, a box neatly labeled, "Pieces of String Too Small to Save". On opening the box they were not at all surprised to find that it did indeed contain many, many pieces of string too small to save."

You just know, without ever having met that woman, that even as she knew on one level that her saving of the string was silly, on another level she was muttering under her breath, "You never can tell!" On the literal level, the story makes us laugh and shake our heads and feel grateful that we don't have quite this level of compulsiveness. But on the metaphoric level it's a true story about all of us: all of us have stored within us and tucked away and all but forgotten, gifts and talents and contributions that we have neatly labeled as "too small to save" (or too insignificant to be of use). But -- you never can tell!

Today we gratefully thank those who are retiring from leadership. And as we cast about for those willing and able to take their place, I want to encourage all of you to look for the way in which your gifts can be used here.

If you like kids and don't have your own or miss the days when yours were little, sign up to teach a class next year. If you are new among us and are convinced there are better ways to make newcomers like yourself more welcome, join the Membership Committee. If you're shy and introverted and do better with things than with people, join the Building and Grounds Committee. If you come regularly on Sunday, volunteer to make coffee. The options are very nearly endless. Tansy will be at the sign-up table in the lobby and I can promise you that whatever your talents and inclinations, she will find a place for you.