Sunday, August 14, 2005

We are in the midst of a series on vital relationships in the faith community. Next Sunday, Keith begins a series on aspects of marriage. For those who are single, it brings to mind, “Why is it good for me to be here?” That is a fair question. So, I want to assure you that Keith's approach intends to look at aspects of intimacy (relationships in very close proximity), including those that might result in marriage. It occurred to me that we should focus attention on the experience of being single before we turn our attention to marriage. We owe this consideration to our single members, and it might enlighten our married members.

In preparation I took half a dozen single friends to lunch to understand what life is like for them. What aspects of their singleness are difficult to bear? What is it like being single within a church family? How has that morphed through the years? In addition,, those who have ably designed our worship in Kevin's absence (Marguerite, Jane, Becky, Mary, Laurel) were not satisfied that their perceptions of the single experience were current. So they invited members of our Singles' Fellowship to complete a questionnaire. Several returned thoughtful answers. I have pages of insight, more than can be shared today, but I want to tell you it is heartfelt and riveting in its clarity. It makes one tender to read such candid self-description. Over time we will share the essence with our staff and elders. It is my hope this morning, to give a voice to the things I've learned of late or been reminded of by this company.

To demonstrate the relevance of our topic, I want to ask you two questions. First, how many of you in your lifetime were once single? I suspected as much. Second, how many of you, for some portion of your formative years, before the age of 25, were raised by a single parent? Pretty significant, is it not? Counting responses in our first two services, around four dozen of those in worship this morning have been raised (for a period of time) by a single parent. This number does not include those who are (or have been) single parents themselves.

In the course of life, we come to admire a variety of people. It is inevitable that we are really taken by certain individuals—by the way they carry themselves, by their integrity, by the quality of their leadership, by the courage they demonstrate. I do not think there is a category of persons for whom I have more respect than single parents. What they manage to accomplish (providing, nurturing, contributing), while taking care of their own humanity, is quite an achievement. Next in my queue are public school teachers. I think they are the social workers of modern life. I love them. It is marvelous what they do in multi-language classrooms with children from households that are surviving or whose parents are disengaged from their learning. In our congregation we have single parents who also teach in public schools. Imagine that combination of challenges.

This morning I hope to encourage our affection, sensitivity and respect for single persons. I use the title, “Being Single on Noah's Ark,” not because I have concluded that this church behaves like Noah's ark, but because I want to acknowledge that faith communities often do. Noah's ark is a vivid image. Being single on Noah's ark is, therefore, a clear diagnostic metaphor. When churches have the social consciousness of Noah's ark, where the animals enter and exit two-by-two, God's single creatures are isolated in a rising tide.

Social exclusion, intentional or accidental, is disturbing. Remember, Noah's ark was not a model for community life. It more resembles an egg and sperm bank than a template for our life together. A truly Christian community leaves no life in doubt of its value and no member uncertain of its access. We disregard the Holy Spirit and devalue the act of creation when we fail to fully embrace each person God brings here.

May I offer a scripture to ground and galvanize our sensitivity? In Galatians 5:25, Paul says, “since the Spirit is our life, let us be directed by the Spirit” in all things and all relationships. This prescription is anticipated in 5:13-14: “My brothers and sisters, you were called as you know to liberty, but be careful, or this liberty will provide an opening for self-indulgence. Rather, serve one another in works of love since the whole of the law is summarized in the commandment, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'”

Notice the two complimentary (and, I would say, related) prescriptions. (1) Since potent grace has freed you from an obsessive conscience, you may be tempted to indulge yourself—to take liberties with you liberty. (2) Since potent grace has improved your humanity, you have the opportunity to extend yourself to others—to be gracious, attentively and tangibly. Elsewhere, Paul says that once a life has partaken of the grace of God, all behaviors are (theoretically speaking) permissible, but not all behaviors (concretely speaking) are edifying.

For our purposes, I am intrigued by one aspect of Paul's reflection. We were, in Christ, made free … that we may be free … to enjoy God and life itself beyond prior comprehension. In this new liberty we can gorge ourselves on many a good thing. In a friendship-rich church like ours it would be easy for couples to saturate their social lives with couples. If single friends (and single strangers) had to queue up behind all the couples we would like to know and enjoy, we might never get to them. We could indulge ourselves with these mutual affinities, rather than extend ourselves to the single souls that populate our church.

My interviews and the worship team's questionnaire clarified the issue. One person tells us that in a former church the adult class on Sunday mornings was called, “Pairs and Spares.” If you are satisfied with a place in the trunk, that might work for you. That same person said that coming here allowed him to see himself as an individual, not someone who was wearing a marital status label that might choreograph his participation in the church. Another member said that multi-generational fellowship was what she was looking for as a single person. She wanted the company of people with varied marital status because, as she put it, “I have things to learn from others in all of life's circumstances. I came here as a motivated student and as a worshipper.”

You know demographics are changing. America is evolving in incremental ways to a culture that is predominately single. In several metropolitan areas there are now more single adults than married couples. Every year, for as far as I can see, single Christians will test our welcome and our attention to the realities of their lives. We will have a steady stream of single parents coming to this church, looking for a community that well value them, know their children, and help them to parent. This is our privilege, and one aspect of our reason for being.

America, if not the entire developed and developing world, is seeing a dramatic change in the way families relate to their own adult children. Once upon a time, if adult children did not marry, they would stay on the family farm. They would have ready employment, a place of belonging and security. Well, the “welcome home” mat has become a “visit briefly” mat. Some parents, when they reach an empty nest, want to keep it that way. Other parents are, at that time in life, down-sizing and no longer have room in the inn.

Concurrently, many adult children would not choose their nuclear family's zip code. Others can not afford it. The careers of many careen them into orbits beyond their family's gravitational pull. Their vocational giftedness or best opportunities are in the wider world. These singles no longer have the local built-in support system of an actively attentive family. Being confined to peer and professional relationships is not a rounded life. Internet connections and cell phone mobility do not fully alleviate isolation. This is the future of our culture. We, for our part, need to become more artfully attentive to the social and survival needs of single members.

I was surprised to learn that virtually all the singles in our congregation live alone. That is an extraordinary reality. Pause to imagine it. Some of you are hearing the quiet, seeing the order of the house, speculating on the ease of consensus-building with your self in the making of decisions or plans. Do not get too wistful too quickly. A couple's experience of conflicted intimacy and difficult parenting can feed their fantasies. It is hard to properly empathize with a life if we are fantasizing about a caricature of that life.

I heard and read an appeal from our singles for our empathy. Your single friends and single strangers are asking you to acquire a clear picture of “unchosen solitude.” They gently implore us to understand what they are missing and what is difficult for them. Their priority request was that couples work to acquire an interested comprehension of singleness.

So, what in particular do our single friends want us to understand? First, that they must do life without a partner. With a partner, problems are halved, and resources are doubled. Without one, there is no division of domestic labor; nor, often, any help with parenting. There is no mutual care when ill. There is no ready partner if a survival issue must be faced. One person wrote, “The constant reality of being alone and not having someone to turn to when difficulties routinely appear out of nowhere is sometimes overwhelming and disheartening. I have friends, but it is difficult to call them in moments of crisis. It would be so much easier, at least so I imagine, if I had a partner.”

A cherished benefit of partnership (remembered with painful fondness by those who were once coupled) is that partners share their friends. When introverts marry the introverts, they typically double their social connections. When introverts marry extroverts, they can quadruple their social connections. What singles are saying is that a partner brings you company beyond their company. You have access to each other's friendships. If you are a woman, you have ready access to male company. If you are a man, you have the pleasure of female association. Platonic, yet mutual. Playful, within boundaries. We “borrow” the benefits of knowing our spouse's friends. In time we often claim them as our own. A simple double-date expands our relational worlds. Men who miss their sisters and women who miss their brothers again enjoy a reminiscent familial repartee.

My wife would not mind me telling you that she often prefers male company. She would not want her girlfriends to feel discounted by this. She just thoroughly enjoys the company of men. Let us be frank, uncomplicated male company is more accessible for a married woman than for a single woman. One of our members wrote, “In a purely platonic sense, I desperately miss the company of men. When I was married, I had safe mutually-fulfilling access. Now I miss their humor, their view of the world and their quirky social skills.”

A specific point was made by another single, who said, “When you go to a social gathering, if there are two of you, the odds that one of you will know somebody there go way up. If a shy couple arrives at our church courtyard and does not immediately see a familiar face to connect with, they can engage each other until a social invitation is extended. If you are shy and single, you always have to assert yourself; and are often required to insert yourself into a group of couples happily enjoying each other.” Couples and extroverts can not grasp how fatiguing it is to live with this unrelenting social requirement.

Our singles call our attention to another reality. It is just generally harder being a single person in our culture. Some of you with difficult marriages and multiple children might want to quarrel with this. But when singles imagine marriage, they do not imagine our worst marriages. They long for one of our better marriages. Normal hunger does not imagine a bad meal. Singles hope to choose more compatible partners than some of us did. Or they intend to have smaller families, should the opportunity present itself. There is appropriate optimism in the imagination of a single person when they hope to be married and when they look at your marriage from the outside. It is often thought that the companionship of an okay, often good, if not stellar partner is better than being alone.

One made this observation: “I know some friends struggle in their marriages and are not altogether happy, yet they have a human companionship that makes them feel stronger. They can borrow energy from each other, and have good moments with each other. If their engine does not fire on all eight cylinders all of the time; still, it is nice to have two-cylinders that gives you something back.” Another framed it this way, “Only people with strong egos and a solid sense of who they are, with skills equal to the demands of life, feel comfortable being single in our culture. If one of those is missing we feel at a disadvantage, more vulnerable than couples.”

It is easy for couples to take for granted the subtle reinforcement of good disciplines and moral behaviors. More than a few singles said their lives were surrounded by temptations—to be lazy, self-indulgent, sexually adventuresome, financially short-sighted, you name it. Here is one well-spoken voice: “It is unnoticed nobility when a single man or woman chooses an honorable lifestyle. What singles resolve to do and to be in order to please God, while facing the temptations of our culture, is good and costly. The wind blows strong most of the time. We have so much more anonymity in our lives. There is not a second pair of eyes and ears in our homes. It is like being perpetually unaccountable, a traveling salesman always on the road.” This is an acknowledgement of risk, maybe a cry of anguish. It is certainly a request for understanding. For your single friends, inquiry about their life's hazards, offer words of encouragement and pray for their welfare more frequently.

Single men and women struggle with aloneness—not loneliness, as you might think of it—but being alone most of the time. It does not go away. Theirs is the only voice in the car, in the garden, in the kitchen, in the night. Sometimes even an echo would be nice. The silence of one's own company can be crushing. Single extroverts find this a particular burden. When the phone rings in a single person's home, the odds that it is a telemarketer go up. The more people there are in the house, the more likely it is that a warm heart and real voice are calling. When one is hungry for human contact, a telemarketer is an indifferent torment.

Speaking of human contact, a number of singles referred to the absence of physical touch, what some psychologists call skin-starvation. There is one among us who lost her husband a few years ago, who said, “Since my husband died, I've not yet received a hug that I did not initiate, except those from family members or friends at the funeral.” Is that not troubling to hear? I know there are comfort zone and personal freedom issues on this one. First, not all single persons want to be hugged. Second, not all married persons are at ease when singles hug their spouse. Nonetheless, these reservations do not negate the legitimate need for human contact.

One single sister said, “I have altogether benign and good intentions, and it hurts me when I perceive that a woman does not trust me with her husband.” Sometimes we are too careful; sometimes we are not careful enough. The issue, however, is not going away. We have not yet grown into the freedom and kindness divinely prescribed for us as long as a single person in our fellowship goes years without proper affection. The simplest way for singles to navigate the risk and trust issues when they value a heterosexual friendship is for them to nurture an even better friendship with that person's spouse. This may not be an option in the workplace, but it is quite manageable in a church family or neighborhood.

Our lives are rich in many ways. Most of us are beset with opportunities to indulge ourselves if we care to. And many of these ready indulgences are positive, like hobbies or recreation or learning or quality time with family and friends. One could, in fact, be so absorbed by the rich relationships of a large family that there would be no friendship extended to non-relatives. There could be such joy in the company of stimulating, mutually beneficial coupled friends, that there would be no remaining social space for single friends. This potentiality, for some this inevitability, prompts me to call the question: How well are we including single friends in our life experience?

To help you process this question, I propose a guided meditation. Would you, right now in the privacy of your own mind, think of four single friends? They might be widows, divorcees, not yet married, single by choice, or young career people. It does not matter why they are single, just that they are. [Take a few minutes.] Now, hear this question: Have these four friends been in your home? If not, then to them, your house might resemble Noah's Ark. Have each of them enjoyed an unhurried one-on-one dialogue with you in the last calendar year? If not, then to them, your Day-Timer might look like Noah's Ark.

I was informed and affected by the company of those I interviewed in recent weeks. My honest effort to prepare well for this teaching has questionable integrity if lessons learned do not result in some proactive life style changes. If you are seeing what I am seeing, you might want to take time this week to expand your list of single friends, and make some plans. Perhaps you will want to set a new minimum social baseline—imagine if each of us, every quarter, did something attentive and generous with a single friend or stranger.

I am mindful of a shortcoming in sermon communication. In a monologue delivered to a group, I can not qualify and personalize thoughts. Some of you live lives of charitable awareness, with continuing attention to the needs of others. Others of you are still trying to survive, with multiple children and multiple jobs. I am not appealing to those with little discretionary time or more obligations than energy. But, if your life, like mine, has some latitude, I am asking you to make room for single friends, and include them in the pleasures of your life. It seems a reasonable think for me to ask, and them to expect.

You know that there are several kinds of singleness. For some it is neither welcome, nor chosen. Our singles want you to known that their life in community is affected by how they came to be single. Widowed friends who once had regular access to coupled friends, say their social invitations have fallen off. This is also reported by those who are divorced. In many cases the end of marriage was not their choice; yet, they have a sense of being discounted. Several years ago, when Stan was still here, I remarked at the end of a particular marriage, “I do not know how a person of such extraordinary quality could be left behind. We must now have the finest collection of divorcés in the Bay area.” If I remember correctly, he speculated that the only adequate explanation might be temporary insanity. You can just consider this shop-talk between two pastors, or you can resolve not to enlarge the sense of “being left behind” by failing to include divorced friends. When such sorrow is visited upon our friends, let remain as constant as we can.

There is, however, also a singleness that is chosen. In a biblical context, Jesus chose it to fulfill his destiny and Paul preferred it to focus on his mission. I have no doubt, from their words and writings, that both saw the value of women and the upside of marriage. They set aside this worldly joy and distraction to honor soul priorities. Contemporary Christians have done this for parallel reasons. One of the women most admired in modern times is Mother Teresa.  She did not choose a single life so she could have a contemplative seaside condo on the coast of Spain. She resolved to spend herself extravagantly in a way that would not have worked well with a partner. Two of the most widely read Christian authors, both of them British, C. S. Lewis and John Stott, both chose a single life, to teach and guide and write. They, and many a scholarly priest, appear to view their books like “offspring.” These “children” were lovingly brought into this world for the benefit of others and, no doubt, in fulfillment of their “parenthood.” Jesuit scholars were in fact the mid-wives of my conversion. The gospels converted my heart. Their work converted my head. One wonders if the requirements of marriage and children would have allowed such prolific authorship.

Decisions to be single are fascinating assessments. Mother Teresa, reflecting on her life's work, once said: “I wouldn't be able to say whether my mother's example and her love for the poor or my frequent attendance at church had the most influence on me as my vocation matured.” She chose a life of usefulness—contentedly. In the company of a friend, C.S. Lewis once remarked that, if he were not a confirmed bachelor, a particular lady friend would be the woman he would like to marry. “One could have with her the kind of relationship described by Patmore in The Angel in the House” he said. When his friend commented, “It's not too late,” Lewis said, “Oh yes it is. I've burned my boats.”

Decisions to marry after long singleness always have elements of surprise. Years later, Lewis met and came incrementally to love Joy Davidman. One of his earliest descriptions read: “She's a queer fish and I'm not at all sure that she's … your cup of tea (she is at any rate not a bore.)” His friends wondered some over Jack's compatibility with this divorcée (and her two boys), an ex-Communist, Jewish American, Christian convert, with mature opinions and a quick tongue. Yet, love grew. Her illness (and expiring visa) precipitated a civil marriage that would allow her to remain in England. A religious ceremony was conducted in Joy's hospital room; where and when she expressed (it is reported) how eager she was for the pitiable consolation of dying under the same roof as Jack. She did, after three years and four months of married life, succumb. Lewis then tasted loneliness altogether foreign to the aloneness of his once chosen solitude. He wrote the book, “A Grief Observed,” one of the better reflections available to us on the loss of a love. Better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all? Jack would say yes; Agnes would say no (if only married love was being considered).

In our congregation some have chosen to be single in the absence of the opportunity to have a good marriage. An ok-to-poor marriage is not enough for them. They are not so alone that any company will do. When persons choose a single life over available alternatives, they want to be accepted and affirmed in their single status from time to time. They do not to want to receive the subtle message that they are incomplete, that they will never be a whole person until they marry. One single friend asked that she not be described as “not married yet,” because this implies that “once she grows up” she surely will marry. For her, social realities do not make marriage the inevitable outcome. Unless she finds company that improves her life, she would rather be single. She values her singleness, and wants us to.

Our single members wish to call our attention to some aspects of single-couple etiquette. Universally, they say social invitations are wonderful. Yet, apparently, it is not affirming to be asked: “Do you have any plans for the holidays?”—as if their calendars are surely vacant. Rather, we are encouraged to ask, “What are your plans for the holidays?” On this note, several singles cautioned: Do not assume we want to be with our extended family every holiday. Imagine what it is like to be the unmarried sibling and to be seasonally surrounded by their familial fulfillment. One stated the obvious: I do not look forward to becoming their nanny-for-the-day. I don't want to be the single sister in that mix. Actually, I am more comfortable with my singleness in the company of married friends and their families.”

With respect to matchmakers, the general consensus is: “God bless you. But please, exercise some discernment.” The golden rule is apparently relevant. The best way to get match-making right, say they, is to be in open conversation with them about their desires and their comfort. After both of our earlier services, several people told me they met on blind dates choreographed by friends. One now married woman remembers to this day the way a married friend expressed his motivation: “I think you would like each other, because I like both of you for similar reasons.” We have many couples who were brought together through the active interest of friends. Some couples here today met at dinner party—conceived and hosted by married friends for single friends. Some subtlety is welcome. It is mildly awkward for two singles to sit down with four couples, and find balloons on their chairs. Do what comes naturally between friends, with appropriate permissions.

For the week ahead, I want to give you a passage to ponder: 2 Corinthians 8:12-15. This is a kindly reasoned passage on sharing wealth, or relative material affluence. Today, I am not thinking about the sharing of our money with those who have less. Instead, I am applying the principles of this text to the relative social affluence of couples in our faith community. As I read it for you, think about the wealth of your relationships. My occasional paraphrase is, I think, congruent with the spirit of the author's original purpose.

As long as the readiness [or sincere intention] to share is there, any [contribution] is acceptable with whatever [one] can afford. Never mind what is beyond [your] means, [I am not asking for what is beyond your resources or skillfulness or shyness of nature. I refer to what is within your reach.] This appeal [for you to share your social life] does not mean that to give relief to others [in this instance, your single friends], you ought to make things difficult for yourselves. [Just share your social health and social wealth with those whose joy you can enlarge without seriously diminishing your own.] It is a question of balancing what happens to be your [social] surplus against their present [social] need [and occasional isolation], and one day they may have something to spare that will supply your own need. This is how we strike a balance [within the family of faith]: as scripture says, The [one] who gathered much had none too much, the one who gathered little did not go short. [This is the social economy in a healthy Christian community.]

Paul's appeal was for your money; my appeal is for your time. Please revisit the names of the single friends who came to mind earlier. If your best intentions are aided by structure, as mine are, you might find it useful to divide this year into quarters, then each quarter create a place in your social life for one identified friend. Allow their needs to shape the event and determine the others to be included.

Tonight, I will drive once again to Santa Barbara where my brother lives alone. He has always been single; and since we all moved to other areas, he has been there without family. Each visit we seem to make a casual inventory of the quality of lives. Too often, he has said, “The last best time I had was when you were here last.” I am not over-burdened by this feedback; but, it fuels my motivation to show up—again and again. If it is true that some people feed on our company, then what happens when we withhold it?

When we speak of the need for couples to include singles, we are not characterizing a relationship between the “strong” and the “weak.” We are simply acknowledging that in most faith communities couples are closer to the social center; and, therefore, are stewards of that community's inclusiveness.

Single people, for your part, you cannot be passive. You are capable of every social courtesy and initiative that you would like to receive from couples. With respect to parties-in or meals-out, with respect to study groups and compassion project teams, you can be the inviter as well as the invitee. In that context I want to share two statements from singles in our church. A single woman said, “When I came here, I knew I was alone and that it wasn't good for me. I have chosen to participate in small groups, and have had the experience of being the only single. It wasn't negative. It was good for me. I did notice however, that I am sometimes more open with my thoughts than married people because I don't have to edit according to my spouse's sensitivities. They seem to like my transparency, and I enjoy theirs when it happens.” A single man said, “My men's Bible study group has been accepting and solid. They have been through it all with me, and have always been there to mentor, encourage, and help me make clear-headed decisions. Their company makes it impossible for me to think of this church as Noah's Ark.”

Singles in any faith community need to master a core lesson in mutual care. It is important for every member, but critical for singles. In all human interaction, those who give care, get care. Our church has 800 households. Every week a few or a dozen face quality of life threatening difficulties. We, who offer pastoral care and those who volunteer in a care ministry, see the same patterns. The hardest people to help are those who have isolated themselves. The easiest ones to help are those who are already socially connected. Absent pre-existing friendships, every instance of care is a “cold call” with more challenging after-care. For your own sake, establish multiple places of belonging—at the very least, a nurture group and ministry team. Actively maintain a short list of mutual friendships. Then, when trouble comes, you will already familiar faces and voices that can be marshaled to support you.

It is right that, in the heart of a worship service, we focus on the needs of our singles, who do so much with fewer resources. We want you to experience our affection. A single person should have the last word today. So, I will end by quoting the words of a new member. “I needed God's company, so I went to church. In the worship service, I felt the presence of God and the Holy Spirit with such a strong force and personal power that I was moved to tears. I hadn't expected this. I did not even notice who were coupled and who was single. I just noticed the presence of God among wonderful people, who I wanted to know. I want to know you better. This is for me a loving church. I cherish my part in it, and time and opportunity allowing, I want to know as many of you as I can.” The person who wrote this is in worship with us this morning.