Who Am I? Why Am I Here?

Before I begin, I want to thank you all for inviting me to speak here today. I am humbled and honored that you would even consider me as a candidate for your part-time pastor position. The good news is, if you choose me as your pastor, I might be able to work for free. The other day I got an email from a widow in Nigeria. For some reason, she wants to give me millions of dollars. If that happens – and I don’t have any reason to think it won’t – then I’ll work here for free. I’m not a greedy man. So keep your fingers crossed for me.

“Who am I? Why am I here?” Those were the memorable words of Admiral James Stockdale back in 1992. Some of you may remember that Admiral Stockdale was Ross Perot’s Running Mate. They ran as Independents. Admiral Stockdale took part in the Vice Presidential debate, along with Al Gore and Dan Quayle. Admiral Stockdale was asked to say a little something about himself. That’s when he blurted out two, perhaps unintentionally profound questions. “Who am I? Why am I here?” Who are any of us? Why are any of us here? I’m not here to talk about Admiral Stockdale. I’m here to talk about somebody I know a little bit more about. Me.

A Christmas party is one reason I’m at a Unitarian Universalist church today. When I was in the 3rd grade, my public school had a Christmas party. (Not a Holiday Party, Bill O’Reilly would be happy to know: A Christmas party.) I looked around for a friend of mine and didn’t see her. I asked my teacher where she was. I was told, “Oh, she’s Jewish and they don’t believe in Christmas; so she decided to stay home.” I was shocked. I couldn’t articulate it at the time, but I knew this wasn’t right. How could my public school make my friend feel excluded? I would remember that incident many years later.

In August of 2009 I was planting a Christian church in Holland. Granted, I was trying to make it the most liberal Christian church ever, but it was still a Christian church. That month I was at a Christian conference on new church starts. I kept hearing about how new church starts must welcome everyone. “And that’s what we do,” the conference leaders were saying, “We welcome everyone.” They meant we welcome people regardless of color or age or sexual orientation. “We welcome everyone,” they said. I thought: No we don’t; we don’t welcome a Hindu who wants to remain a Hindu or a Buddhist who wants to remain a Buddhist or a Muslim who wants to remain a Muslim. We’d try to convince them to become Christians. I thought: I can’t do this; I wouldn’t try to convince my 3rd grade classmate to be a Christian rather than a Jew. I can’t do this. What am I going to do?

In September of 2009, one month later, I got a call from my denomination, which was paying me to plant this Christian church in Holland. I was told, the money has run out for the Christian church I was planting in Holland.
Really? So now, I’m no longer being paid to plant a Christian church in Holland. Was that coincidental or providential? We report, you decide. All of a sudden, I was free to plant the kind of church I wanted to plant. So I started meeting with people of various faiths; and none. Then on January 1, 2010, we started Interfaith Congregation. A few weeks before that, I ran into a Unitarian minister, I think from Ohio, at a conference. I told him I was starting a church that welcomes everyone, not just people regardless of their race or age or sexual orientation, but Christian and Jew, Buddhist and Hindu, Muslim and more. I said we’re calling it, “Interfaith Congregation.” He said, “Oh, you’re starting a Unitarian church.” I said, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

In February of 2010, one month after I started Interfaith Congregation, I was summoned to a meeting of my Christian denomination. I was told that Interfaith Congregation was not a “legitimate ministry.” Really? I was invited to take a temporary leave of absence. Really? Instead, I decided to take a permanent leave of absence. That afternoon I went home and emailed the Unitarian Universalist Association. I said, “I think it’s time for me to become a Unitarian Universalist minister; I don’t seem to fit into the Christian church.” They wrote me back and said, “Isn’t it nice to finally realize where you belong.” Yes, it is nice. Since then I’ve been in the process of becoming a Unitarian Universalist minister. This past Christmas Day – for those who appreciate irony – I joined the Unitarian Universalist Church of the Larger Fellowship, the UU church without walls, the largest church in the UUA. So now, like many of you, I belong to a Unitarian Universalist church.

Osama bin Laden is why I became a minister. My birthday is 9-11. On my birthday in 2001, after watching the tragic events of that day, I decide to move from the media to the ministry. You probably know Duncan Littlefair, the longtime minister of Fountain Street Church in Grand Rapids. I was a longtime member of Fountain Street Church. I had gone to Duncan a couple months before 9-11 and said, “Duncan, I think I should become a minister.” He said, “Oh no, Bill! That’s not for you! You need to stay in the media!” To me, Duncan was like the voice of God and the voice of God had just told me I shouldn’t become a minister. So I didn’t. After 9-11 happened, I went back to see Duncan. I said, “Duncan, my birthday is 9-11; I really feel called to become a minister.” He looked at me and said, “You must do this, Bill!” So now, the voice of God spoke to me again and told me I must become a minister. So I did. I wanted to pursue a path to pastoring to one day preach love in a sometimes hateful world. I hope I’ve done that.

Two songs sum up the response to 9-11. Both of them are country songs. One by Toby Keith; the other by Alan Jackson. The one by Toby Keith is called, “Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue.” “Hey, Uncle Sam put your name at the top of his list, and the Statue of Liberty started shaking her fist.” It’s all about revenge and hate. The one by Alan Jackson is called, “Where Were You.” “Where were you when the world stop turning on that September day? …But I know Jesus and I talk to God, and I remember this from when I was young; faith, hope and love are some good things he gave us, and the greatest is love.” It’s all about compassion and love. Those two song represent the two choices of the human heart, not just to 9-11, but to just about every decision we face. Will we choose hate or love? The decision we make makes all the difference.

Whenever I conduct a memorial service I say, “We mourn the loss and celebrate the life” of the deceased. What would I say if I were to conduct a memorial service for Osama bin Laden? “We celebrate the loss and mourn the life of Osama bin Laden”? When I first heard the news of bin Laden’s death, part of me wanted to run outside, shout for joy and fire a bunch of bullets into the air! (You know, if I owned a gun.) But then Lincoln’s words about the “better angels of our nature” came to me. And I remembered that bin Laden was a human being just like you and me. Then I remembered the first principle of Unitarian Universalism, which affirms and promotes, “The inherent worth and dignity of every person.” Did the person who planned the 9-11 attacks have “worth and dignity”? However reluctantly we might answer that question, the only conclusion we can come to is: Of course he did. So, although I understood the feelings of my fellow Americans, who danced in the streets of Washington, New York and elsewhere, I would not have joined them. And I appreciated our president’s understated, non-smirking response to bin Laden’s death. Barack Obama was all business. And while his business as President and Commander in Chief of the United States of America was to bring Osama bin Laden to justice, my business as a pastor is to remind us of the words of Gandhi, “The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong,” and the words Jesus, “Love your enemies.”

So: Who am I? Why am I here? I’m a husband, a father, a friend. I’m a liberal minister and the founding chaplain of Interfaith Congregation in Holland. I went before the Holland City Council a year ago this month, asking them to pass a gay rights ordinance. I’m a member of the Unitarian Universalist Church of the Larger Fellowship. And I hope I’m your future pastor, because one day I’d like to get to know who you are and why you are here.