Final Comments

In the aftermath of Columbine, I think we all have been looking at our youth a little differently, knowing that a most powerful alchemy—a promising, perishable, volatile, exalted and delicate alchemy—is occurring within them. This alchemy is the process of discerning and becoming who we will be beyond the families of our birth, as an adult in the larger world. This process, of course, is unending and continual. One has to be dead for this process to be finished. We are all still trying to figure out what it means to be a human being, what it means to be an adult. In adolescence, nonetheless, this process is especially formative and formidable.

I’ve heard some youth say that they seek to “feel important,” that they want to “be somebody.” Though this may manifest in fantasies of fame or—rarely—infamy, it is universal for all of us, youths and adults, to want connection, to link our lives with Life. It is universal to yearn for a life that is meaningful, that makes a difference, and that is deeper than the flotsam and jetsam of passing experience. To even attempt this, let alone to accomplish this feat of connection, one must engage the big questions of life—questions of life, death and the time in-between. A youth has said wonderfully, “These are the questions that whisper beneath the narrative of daily life, which surface, sometimes with great noise and gushing, and submerge again.” As a metaphor for the spiritual life, Mayan culture speaks of “El Rio abajo rio, the river beneath the river.”

Life-span cradle-to-grave religious education is all about exploring el rio abajo rio. It takes on a special dimension—a hopeful, careful and focused dimension—when youth are coming of age.

We are here to honor the youth who have attended—given their time and attention—to their own coming-of-age, and as well to recognize the adults who have given these youth their time and attention.

We are here also—and now I repeat something which I said last night at our annual dinner—to pledge ourselves as a religious community to be the kind of community that we want to be, the kind of community that deserves the loyalty of young adults, the kind of community that we say we are: loving, respectful, truth-telling, justice-seeking, helpful, serving.

We also strive to be a community that recognizes its privilege and participation in systems that are counter to our values: systems of racism, classism, sexism, homophobia, violence, and meaninglessness. We strive to be a community that does something about these and our many other shortcomings.

I want this church to be worthy of the loyalty of these youth so that some day one of you may want to be the minister of First Parish; or one of you will want to be a leader in a coming-of-age program; or one of you will want to be someone who makes the coffee, folds the chairs, pays the pledge or does whatever it takes to help this place fulfill its immense promise.

Congratulations, alchemists! May your discoveries be unexpectedly good! And welcome to the rio abajo rio! May you dive deep, keep swimming, and stay afloat!

Youth, and leaders, and parents too: you have done much good work. We are humbled, and inspired, and we thank you.

And a bonus story. Sharon McDonald asked me this morning: Do you know the story of the wizard who invented color? "But which color shall we choose?" asked the neighbors as his magnificent pots overflowed into wild rainbows of hues. "You must choose them all," said the wizard.

So we must. Amen and blessed be.
John Gibbons