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(no subject)
To hell with it, I'm writing this.
So chances are, you weren't born a Unitarian. Sure, maybe if your parents were nerdy misfits who read a lot, some copies of A Chosen Faith fell into your hands, but for the most part, you wander into a Unitarian church when you're fifteen or thirty. And for the a while, there's a honeymoon phase: You've found your home. Finally, you're free to be yourself! Plus, it's so queer-friendly! You're intimidated by the people who are on every committee and plan every sermon, sure, but you're Going to Get Involved and you're happy as a clam. You mourn all the years you didn't know that Unitarianism existed.
But one day - as you hold your copy of Singing the Living Tradition and reflect on how Unitarian singing sounds like a herd of tiny dying cows - you hear the rumblings of drama on the horizon.
The chair of the ministry committee is annoyed at the co-chair of the outreach committee. The church listserv gets passive-aggressive. There's a bit of a chill at coffee hour. It passes, but somewhere in your brain a tiny voice is going I thought we were all supposed to get along!. And if you are older, and have done this before, the SMALL GROUP POLITICS alarm is going off.
So sure, you proceed with more caution, try not to complain about grounds and facilities in the grounds and facilities committee's hearing, and notice that you've started gritting your teeth when the same guy keeps turning every discussion into MY THOUGHTS ON HIERARCHICAL DECISION-MAKING: LET ME SHOW YOU THEM. Someone is always upset about everything - the social justice committee decides to start a food pantry project, and they didn't invite the woman who used to sort the cans for the Thanksgiving can drive in 1994, and she is HURT even though invitations were open for months. And the outreach committee is overreaching! And that man won't shut up about how he needs a completely diety-free worship experience and will storm out if anyone says anything rhyming with "jebus" at church, and the Chair of the Covenant of U.U. Pagans is pissed off because no one came to Lughnasadh because someone scheduled an airing of Sicko in the Sunday School room for the same night. Eventually some key member of the ministry committee gets fed up and removes herself from the list of Friends of the Fellowship.
And when you give your This I Believe address, two people compliment you, while some other woman's gets a crowd of hangers-on and a bouquet, which, not fair at all.
And then there are mornings when the sunlight is coming in the high skylights, and the guest speaker is actually good, and you've hit on one of the three songs Unitarians can actually sing. And you look around at your little band of religious misfits - the friends you've made, the work you've done, the way this place changes your view of the world a little every time - and you think, okay. It's okay. This is what community means. And the drama passes, and the meditation garden gets built even though half the grounds committee resigned in a huff, and it's good to be a Unitarian. The wank-storms pass by, but you've learned to stay out of them, like the ninety percent of the congregation that just wants to drink some coffee and talk about Emerson. And man, do you ever like talking about Emerson. So you stay, and the next time there's a drama explosion and people are shocked, SHOCKED, you totally find the humor in it.
/crazed ramblings, there's only one person on my flist who will think this is funny, but it's been rattling around in my brain for months.
--
No, I do not belong to a cult. I belong to this herd of cats, and I love them dearly, and this is meant as good-natured poking of fun. It's just, the degree to which Unitarians are just like the internet never fails to amaze me. If I ever become part of an academic department, I'm pretty sure that will look awfully familiar too.
So chances are, you weren't born a Unitarian. Sure, maybe if your parents were nerdy misfits who read a lot, some copies of A Chosen Faith fell into your hands, but for the most part, you wander into a Unitarian church when you're fifteen or thirty. And for the a while, there's a honeymoon phase: You've found your home. Finally, you're free to be yourself! Plus, it's so queer-friendly! You're intimidated by the people who are on every committee and plan every sermon, sure, but you're Going to Get Involved and you're happy as a clam. You mourn all the years you didn't know that Unitarianism existed.
But one day - as you hold your copy of Singing the Living Tradition and reflect on how Unitarian singing sounds like a herd of tiny dying cows - you hear the rumblings of drama on the horizon.
The chair of the ministry committee is annoyed at the co-chair of the outreach committee. The church listserv gets passive-aggressive. There's a bit of a chill at coffee hour. It passes, but somewhere in your brain a tiny voice is going I thought we were all supposed to get along!. And if you are older, and have done this before, the SMALL GROUP POLITICS alarm is going off.
So sure, you proceed with more caution, try not to complain about grounds and facilities in the grounds and facilities committee's hearing, and notice that you've started gritting your teeth when the same guy keeps turning every discussion into MY THOUGHTS ON HIERARCHICAL DECISION-MAKING: LET ME SHOW YOU THEM. Someone is always upset about everything - the social justice committee decides to start a food pantry project, and they didn't invite the woman who used to sort the cans for the Thanksgiving can drive in 1994, and she is HURT even though invitations were open for months. And the outreach committee is overreaching! And that man won't shut up about how he needs a completely diety-free worship experience and will storm out if anyone says anything rhyming with "jebus" at church, and the Chair of the Covenant of U.U. Pagans is pissed off because no one came to Lughnasadh because someone scheduled an airing of Sicko in the Sunday School room for the same night. Eventually some key member of the ministry committee gets fed up and removes herself from the list of Friends of the Fellowship.
And when you give your This I Believe address, two people compliment you, while some other woman's gets a crowd of hangers-on and a bouquet, which, not fair at all.
And then there are mornings when the sunlight is coming in the high skylights, and the guest speaker is actually good, and you've hit on one of the three songs Unitarians can actually sing. And you look around at your little band of religious misfits - the friends you've made, the work you've done, the way this place changes your view of the world a little every time - and you think, okay. It's okay. This is what community means. And the drama passes, and the meditation garden gets built even though half the grounds committee resigned in a huff, and it's good to be a Unitarian. The wank-storms pass by, but you've learned to stay out of them, like the ninety percent of the congregation that just wants to drink some coffee and talk about Emerson. And man, do you ever like talking about Emerson. So you stay, and the next time there's a drama explosion and people are shocked, SHOCKED, you totally find the humor in it.
/crazed ramblings, there's only one person on my flist who will think this is funny, but it's been rattling around in my brain for months.
--
No, I do not belong to a cult. I belong to this herd of cats, and I love them dearly, and this is meant as good-natured poking of fun. It's just, the degree to which Unitarians are just like the internet never fails to amaze me. If I ever become part of an academic department, I'm pretty sure that will look awfully familiar too.
no subject
I swear it made sense at the time?
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Um. Wow. I thought my friend was exaggerating the committees and the talking of things to death. It would appear he *drastically* understated them.
Also, "it made sense at the time" is trumped only "what could *possibly* go wrong?" as an indication of Danger: Potential Shenanigans Afoot.
no subject
Heh. So true. Should I be worried that those two lines are pretty much my explanation for everything?
The committees and talking things to death cannot really be overstated. Committees are created to discuss committees or in response to them or in preparation for new ones. And even if the committee is lucky enough to have a chair and not be run consensus style, no decision is ever final and nothing can ever be fully discussed enough. sigh.
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And if you don't like it, you go found another Baptist church.
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But I totally want to have, you know, the first, second, and third UU church on this road, each with twelve members who won't talk to the people next door. Because that is how the Bible Belt parties down.
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Considering how often I use them, there cannot possibly be consequences. Plus, in nerdish company you can always mix it up and say you have a bad feeling about something.
And even if the committee is lucky enough to have a chair and not be run consensus style, no decision is ever final and nothing can ever be fully discussed enough.
And my friend tells me these stories in response to mine about an employee training program I used to help run. And once we had too many earnest and "helpful" opinions from the 20 year olds we were training...I would order them all to shut up and declare martial law in regards to ordering lunch/dinner or what have you. Because well...once allergies and dietary restrictions had been ruled out, I did not *care* what people wanted. Which was I always got stuck doing that stuff...
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I would order them all to shut up and declare martial law
What makes the whole Unitarian committee thing so...invigorating and quirky is that the final option is lost. The moment I did something like that I'd be ripped from the committee, and I wouldn't have been on it if I didn't actually care that things got done. So, you know, frustrating. It's either that or I'm a glutton for punishment.
*fails at timely replies*
That is one of the things I enjoy about LJ (and ok, sometimes it's enjoyment with a side of eyeroll!), that there's time and space to endlessly hash stuff like this out. I don't always have the patience to do it, but I appreciate that other people do. I'm never the one to participate in the discussion from start to finish...but I like to read along while other people do. (Apparently my user name is more accurate than I ever dreamed. Huh.)