This past weekend, my wife and I packed up a campervan and hit the road for a three day music festival near Bend. I was there under the high desert sun, covered in dust and sunscreen, with thousands of others as we read about wildfires spreading across Oregon and as we learned that Joe Biden was dropping out of the presidential race. In all likelihood, we probably digested the news of some other unprecedented world event that I’ve already forgotten about amidst so many unprecedented world events.

And because it was a Country and Americana music festival in central Oregon, the political mix of the crowd was evenly split. I saw a few Trump shirts and hats, but I also witnessed one concert goer yelling “Thank you Joe! Let’s go Kamala!” across the festival grounds. But we were all stuck there together, listening to the same music, standing in the same concession lines, and sometimes striking up conversations. Inevitably the chit-chat would turn to, “where are you from” and “what brought you to Oregon.” Those are the moments where I have to decide whether to pretend like I’m an accountant or be honest about my chosen vocation! But more often than not, when I’m honest, people tend to open up in really beautiful ways. During those three days, I met people anxious about their role as caregiver to dying loved ones, people who felt like they didn’t fit neatly into any particular political party or religious group, and people who feared for their children’s futures. 

I joked that I had turned into the festival chaplain. But I was also aware of all of the gifts my Unitarian Universalist faith had given me that allowed me to lean into that moment—curiosity, empathy, respect for the worth and dignity of each person there, and an understanding of the deep joy that can be found when we gather in community as our whole, complicated, human selves. 

We are in a moment of great challenge and change as a society, and we’re going to need people with the spiritual grounding to accompany one another through these transformations. But it can’t just be people with seminary degrees! As Unitarian Universalists, we believe in the priesthood and prophethood of all believers. This work of chaplaining belongs to all of us. Luckily, we are well prepared. 

We are used to holding fast to our justice commitments, while still making space for our more private and personal grief and joys. We are a people who aspire to embrace pluralism and freedom of thought—who build communities across differences—while at the same time, recognizing that some sacred values can’t be compromised. We confront what is hard, while making space for music and joy, gratitude and play. This covenantal faith, without creed or dogma, is not always an easy one to navigate or explain. But I think the ability to hold nuance, sit in uncertainty, and stay both committed and open minded/hearted will serve us well in the days ahead.

As our summer theme moves from rest to reflection, I invite you to take some time to reflect on the ways your faith has equipped you to meet this moment. Where are you being called to chaplain— to do the work of listening, and holding and healing in these difficult and divided times? Let me know, and then let’s find ways to support each other in this good and holy work. 

In faith,

Danielle