The Chalice and the Flame
Dr. Mary Lamb Shelden
“In the glare of your mind, be modest.
And beholden to what is tactile, and thrilling.”
~ Mary Oliver, “Flare”
Since starting work at UCE, I have met with my Children and Youth Program Team, I believe, four times. At each of these meetings – and at our K-12 RE teacher orientation — I have attempted to light a chalice, only to have the ritual go badly wrong. In all of these attempts, the candles I’ve used have refused to light: either the flame has not caught, despite repeated attempts, or has caught only to quickly fail. As symbols go, mine in this series have been spectacularly lacking, and it has only been the goodwill and eager assistance of other team members that has gotten me through these early professional embarrassments.
Though I am generally agnostic about the existence of an intervening deity, there are moments and, especially, patterns of moments, that lead me to feel that the universe is trying to tell me something.
The chalice now at my UCE office (which now has, I hope, a better candle in it) is a handmade clay goblet picked up at a Goodwill store many years ago. It has sat on my home altar for a couple of decades, performing generally as a vessel for libations – serving as a vehicle for water, rather than flame. I’ve entertained the notion that there may be some attendant spirit still in it from these previous rituals that resists the fire. I like many things about this chalice: its earthy essence, its rough texture, its particular shade of teal glaze, the fact that it looks like a drinking vessel are all sources of my satisfaction with it. I believe this is the right chalice for this transitional moment in my life – and, indeed, stray notions notwithstanding, I think these initial stumbles through ritual are not the chalice’s fault at all. It is much likelier, in fact, that the error lies with me. If I strain to listen, I seem to discern in moments a voice, as if on the wind: Look to your wicks, Mary, it tells me. Attend to your symbols.
When I first started work as DLRE, I began to ask my UU colleagues, here and at other congregations: where do you get your church? As a lifelong UU, I’m aware that although my faith has not changed, my role with regard to it has. Where once I was served by a congregation, now I serve one. This is not an absolute difference – I have also served my previous congregations as a volunteer and lay-leader, and I now experience many gifts from participating in this congregation. Still, although the change is nuanced, it is also definite. So I am grateful to begin now to find places and ways to get my church. I am grateful for access to the recorded sermons of my gifted colleagues, Revs. Bret and Eileen and Susan. I have joined the Church of the Larger Fellowship, and am grateful for the community I find there, and for the ministry of Rev. Meg Riley. I have been reminded of the other places where I’ve always gotten my church: walking the dog, doing the dishes, watering the plants – and sitting down to a meal with my beloved partner, where we recount to one another the events of our day. During this season of Guest At Your Table, I am making a commitment to daily readings and small rituals – like putting coins in the box and lighting a chalice – that help me to deepen the exploration of this faith I love. Unitiarian Universalism has helped me keep mind, heart, body, and spirit together, through all of life’s challenges, and has led me to this remarkable moment in my life. And when December 4th arrives, I’ll be observing Chalica for the first time ever, seeking to understand more fully the deeper meaning of our seven principles and what they mean for my life. I’ll be keeping my wicks trimmed and my matches dry. I’ll be attending to my symbols.