100th Centennial, Unity Temple by Frank Lloyd Wright

A Short Address to the Unity Temple Unitarian Universalist Congregation
100th Centennial of Unity Temple
Sunday; October 4, 2009
The Rev. Dr. C. Scot Giles


Re-Introduction

Hi, I'm Scot Giles, minister to this congregation for the decade between 1981 and 1991. I left here to join a Community Ministry organization so I could pursue a life-long dream of founding a ministry based on spiritual healing.

The years have been kind to me. I have been successful, and in my professional circle I have become well-known. But I still remember you fondly, and this pulpit is still the pulpit I return to in my dreams.

There were few, if any, theological issues that the congregation struggled with during my years here. There was the rise of the “New Age” and “WomanSpirit” movements that some appreciated and others did not. But this was always a tolerant congregation and there was no conflict around theology.

The church grew, and there were some who disliked losing the “small church” feel. I could always understand that, even while believing this congregation could have no future as a small congregation.

The Gale House was converted from a parsonage to an educational facility during my time here. There was conflict around that, but we desperately needed the classroom space for our growing church school.

Of course, there were struggles around the building. But at that time we had restored it and it looked good. We’d had a showdown with the Restoration Foundation, and through it came to a new agreement. As my ministry here drew to a close, we hoped for the best regarding that agreement.

Yet Alan has asked me to talk about the most memorable worship moments of my time here, and our worship together was always a congregational strength.

What came to mind were two specific occasions. The first occasion was close to the beginning of my ministry here.

The First Story

When I served this congregation there was a Minister Emeritus. A Minister Emeritus (or Emerita, if female) is a minister who has retired. His or her final congregation might elect the minister to this purely honorary position. The Minister Emeritus for this congregation during my time was named the Rev. Robert Rice. Some of you might remember him.

Bob Rice served here for 18 years before retirement. On the whole, they were years of decline both for Oak Park and for this church. Yet he loved this place and this people, and certainly did his best in spite of circumstances that were clearly far beyond his control.

For some reason (and I do not know the story) my predecessor didn't get along with Bob. He was never invited back to speak to the congregation he had served with such devotion. This was a serious breach of ministerial protocol. Therefore, one of the first things I did in 1981 was to invite the Rev. Rice to return.

Canterbury Tales, is a 14th century epic work by Chaucer about the journey of a group of pilgrims to worship at the Shrine of St. Thomas Becket at Canterbury Cathedral. The book contains a description of each of these personalities. There was the Knight, the Lawyer, the Wife, the Squire, the Physician and others. One of these characters was the Parson.

Of all the ecclesiastical characters in Canterbury Tales, the Parson is everything the others are not. He was rich in wisdom, not in wealth. The Parson was a minister who did his best to do his job through thick and thin. He did the job as best he could. He did not seek for recognition, acclaim or position. He did the job for the love of the job and the love of God’s people.

The Sunday when Bob addressed his congregation again was, for me, one of the most worshipful moments of my professional life.

Even if you were there you didn’t see what I saw.

No one could see it, except for me; as I was standing next to him.

As he spoke, Bob was crying. You couldn’t hear it in his voice. But I could see it. He was crying for the love of this place and this people.

And I realized as I watched, that I had met Chaucer’s Parson. I was seeing the job done by someone the way it was supposed to be done. A man who loved his church and loved its people. A man who lived in love. I have seldom met such people.

This has been a memory, and a judgment, that has stayed with me for my entire career.


The Second Story

The second worship memory is very different from the first. It took place at about the middle of my years here. My ministry included the last years of the work of a devoted church organist, Lora Aborn.

During my time the original organ died, but did not have the grace to die quietly. It wheezed and huffed. It clattered and banged; and while it was quite capable of making “A Joyful Noise,” it took both imagination and forgiveness to call that “noise,” music.

Lora struggled as best she could.

The time came for Laura to retire. It was difficult. She was loved by many, but there were grumblings about her “old fashioned” style. She made the decision to let go while the congregation still loved her. I think she chose well.

There was a vocalist who sang here. His name was Robert Smith, and he was good. But he’d gotten a better gig elsewhere, and it seemed right for there to be a changing of the musical guard.

So we held a final service with Lora at the organ and Robert Smith set to sing.

To this day I do not understand what happened; but something transcendent did. The Angel of Music laid its hands upon this congregation.

In some impossible way the organ sounded pure and good.

Robert Smith’s music on that morning was peerless. Fueled by decades of devotion to this place, those two artists performed at, what I assume, was a lifetime best. The music was etherial. It was joyous. It was holy.

Yes, there was applause. But the applause wasn’t the spiritual thing.

Just before it; In the instant when the last note died away and people sat in those pews wide eyed with astonishment; there was a moment of silence. The silence of a people who knew something special had happened. A silence that could break your heart. I will always remember it.