And Noah said unto the Lord, "Lord, the plumber hath gone on strike. Mine subcontractor hath gone bankrupt. And Shem, my son who helpeth me on the ark side of the business, hath formed a punk rock group with his brothers Ham and Japeth. Lord, I am undone."

And the Lord said, "I want that ark finished even after seven days and seven nights."

And Noah said, "It shall be so."

And it was not so.

And the Lord said unto Noah, "What seemeth to be the trouble this time?"

And Noah looked forlorn and said, "The pitch hath been delivered unto the wrong address but should arriveth on Friday."

And the Lord said, "And what about the unicorns and the fowls of the air by sevens?"

And Noah wrung his hands and wept, saying, "Lord, unicorns are a discontinued line. Thou canst get them for love nor money. And fowls of the air are sold only in half dozens. Lord, Lord, thou knowest how it is."

And the Lord shrugged his spheres and, with gentleness returning to his voice, said, "Noah, my son, of course I knowest. Why else dost thou think I sent that mighty flood?"

It is good to be with you this morning. Very good. Good to be witness to the reality of this construction, for so long a dream, and all that it means to you in the congregation, in the Ballou Channing District, and, indeed, all that it means to the Unitarian Universalist Association of Congregations.

From a favorite book of UU history on my shelf, Cindy Tucker’s story of the Iowa Sisterhood:

"Though the first to point out that a house by itself was never enough to make a good home, the clergywomen were just as convinced as the rest of society that a family’s residence had a profound bearing on its religious development. As the guardians of congregations, they therefore took great pains to see that their buildings expressed the ennobling principles that were embraced by the popular idea of the home. Housing the people was always a pressing concern for the clergy whose calls came not from the established and well-accommodated societies, but from the fledgling or floundering groups most in need of nurture and permanent shelter. This need was so great that, between 1880 and 1913, the Western sisterhood put up… well over a score of new houses of worship, an impressive record for liberal expansion by any standard."

In the eight years since John Buehrens was elected to the presidency of the Association, he has dedicated over 150 new buildings or significant renovations and/or extensions to building already housing a congregation. I have done another 25, including today. It is safe to assume that this explosion of bricks and mortar projects and their concomitant capital campaign drives, are thrilling evidence of the vibrancy of our movement. Our sanctuaries are packed for multiple services. Our church schools are bursting. Our parking lots are jammed. Our capital campaign consultants have full dance cards.

"Let me tell you why I come to church," preached minister extraordinaire, A. Powell Davies, from his pulpit at All Souls Unitarian Church in Washington, DC, over fifty years ago. "I come to church – and I would whether I was a preacher or not – because I fall below my own standards and need to be constantly brought back to them… I must have my conscience sharpened – sharpened until it goads me into the most thorough and responsible thinking of which I am capable. I must feel again the love I owe my fellow men and women. I must not only hear about it but feel it.

"…we meet each other as friends and neighbors anywhere and everywhere, but we seldom do so in the consciousness of our souls’ deepest yearnings. But in church we do… We are brought together at the highest level possible We are not merely an audience. We are a congregation."

This morningI meet you as a congregation on a meaningful and celebratory day in your history. For more than a decade, probably more than that for some of you, you have struggled with growth problems, space problems, money problems, construction problems, the whole gamut of tensions I imagine old Noah knew well. Through it all, you have remained faithful to each other and to your dreams when the decisions got tough, when the feelings ran high, when the funds ran low. And so here we all are at a ceremony of dedication, not so much to these walls and grounds, wondrous though they are, but to the steadfastness of your commitment to Unitarian Universalism, to your oh-so-special community of faith and hope and to each other, and to the tenacity and simply stunning leadership of your minister. I praise you. I praise you.

Now, some of you may be wondering what the Moderator of the Unitarian Universalist Association does and why it may, or may not, be a big deal for me to have come here to be with you this morning. (Those are fair questions and I leave it to you to judge.)

In the Association’s bylaws, the role of the Moderator is given short shrift. Article VIII, Section 8 point 8, Moderator:

This is a volunteer job and I am in the last month of my second, and final, four-year term. My successor will be elected at the General Assembly in Cleveland on June 23^rd. So for eight years I have traveled a great deal and gone to more meetings in more places than you can imagine. I have represented you on the Board of The Interfaith Alliance. I have represented you in the White House. I have represented you in India and Japan and Scotland. And at the Canadian Unitarian Council.

I have done this work because I am passionate about the need for our liberal faith message reaching a mean, greedy and unforgiving world. I am driven to do my part to have this glorious institution that is Unitarian Universalism in North America thrive. I give my time and intellect and energy and money while I live so that my sweet little grandchildren will have a Unitarian Universalist community to nourish them when they are grown, in wherever they may choose to live. I am here with you today because you are a vital part of the UUA. We are an association of congregations. Without you, we in continental governance ain’t. One cannot lead without a community to be in relationship with. It doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It is you, here, now, that constitutes the hope, the vision, the life of Unitarian Universalism.

"Don’t ask what the world needs," wrote Baptist theologian, Howard Thurman. "Ask what makes you come alive and go do it. Because the world needs people who have come alive." Being Moderator makes me come alive.

When the UUA Board of Trustees meets four times a year, you are with us through your District Trustee and the Association’s First Vice Moderator, Beth McGregor. When the General Assembly meets each June, you are with us through your delegates. The decisions we make are your decisions.

And I want to report that both of these bodies are currently doing good and meaningful work. We are trying to increase the relevance of our movement by increasing our diversity. We are grappling with what it would mean to be an anti-racist institution. We are struggling to understand the power imbalances that keep us from walking the talk of justice and equity. We are straining to create wholeness in a splintered society. We are working hard to overcome our traditional aloofness from the interfaith scene in order to effectively address the threat of the radical right to America’s long commitment to religious pluralism. We are examining the missions and covenants that bind us together within our congregations and all together as member congregations of the UUA to understand how we can fulfill the promise of our faith.

Enough selling. Back to something of the spirit. From Psalm 118: This is the day that God hath made. Rejoice and be glad in it. These words hang on the wall over my computer at home. This is the congregation that you have made. Rejoice and be glad in it. Cherish its diversity. Project its power. Exploit its talent. Preach its message. Reach beyond these walls to help others. Make it the fullness of your coming, and staying, alive.

Accepting the Governor of California’s Award for Literature in 1994, Alice Walker had these words to say:

Walker comes close to the root meaning of that word our collective loves: HERESY. In the Greek, it means "a choosing", to make a choice. Perhaps the greatest treasure left to us, maybe the only one, is that we can still choose.

Happy dedication, fellow heretics. Thanks for inviting me to be present among you on this day of joy.