For those of you who are new to Community Church and those of you who know what's going on here, but were not here last week, I want to preface my remarks.

Community Church is going through a transition. I resigned last week. Last Sunday my sermon topic focused on the first part of a transition ­ endings. I used William Bridges' book Transitions as source material. In that sermon I talked about the four aspects of endings: disengagement, disenchantment, disidentification, and disorientation. Copies of the sermon and my letters of resignation ­ both the one to the adults and the one to the children ­ are in the magazine rack in the hospitality area.

Today we focus on the middle part of the transition process ­ what William Bridges calls "the neutral zone." I'm reminded of my "new" 1993 Chevy Cavalier Z24 convertible. I haven't learned how to shift its automatic transmission in the dark, yet. I am forever shifting it into what I think is "drive," stepping on the gas, and remaining standing still with the engine revving. For me, the term neutral zone has great meaning. In the neutral zone, as much gas as you give it, you don't go anywhere.

However, the neutral zone is not just the absence of something ­ in the case of the car, the absence of moving forward. The neutral zone is more cosmic than that. It's emptiness ­ a gap ­ the great nothingness. Those who practice Buddhist meditation are familiar with the great nothingness. It is where you go when you are meditating. For many of us it is a fearful place ­ it reminds us of death and abandonment. For others it is the void out of which the holy speaks.

In olden days, we used to have rituals and spirit guides to help us through the neutral zone ­ or, at least, stories about the neutral zone. Certainly Hanzel and Gretle's journey into the woods is about the neutral zone. So is Dorothy's adventure in Oz.

But life is so busy today we don't often make time to create the power of a ritual or to find the guidance and validation of a spirit guide ­ like Dorothy's Glenda. We don't have the heightened awareness brought on by chanting, or meditation, or fasting, or dehydration (such as occurs in sweat lodges). We have forgotten the symbolic modes which used to guide us through the neutral zone.

Elie Weisel tells a story about this forgetting.

When the great Rabbi Israel Baal Shem-Tov saw misfortune threatening the Jews it was his custom to go into a certain part of the forest to meditate. There he would light a fire, say a special prayer, and the miracle would be accomplished and the misfortune averted. Later, when his disciple, the celebrated Magid of Mezritch, had occasion, for the same reason, to intercede with heaven, he would go to the same place in the forest and say: "master of the Universe, listen! I do not know how to light the fire, but I am still able to say the prayer," and again the miracle would be accomplished. Still later, Rabbi Moseh-Leib of Sasov, in order to save his people once more, would go into the forest and say: "I do not know how to light the fire, I do not know the prayers, but I know the place and this must be sufficient." It was sufficient and the miracle was accomplished. Then it fell to Rabbi Israel of Rizhyn to overcome misfortune. Sitting in his armchair, his head in his hands, he spoke to God: "I am unable to light the fire and I do not know the prayer; I cannot even find the place in the forest. All I can do is to tell the story, and this must be sufficient." And it was sufficientGod made humans because God loves stories.

So if we don't remember how to light fires, pray, or find the right place in the forest, what do we do in the neutral zone?

The easy answer is, "Nothing."

For the past two-three months I have been consulting a spiritual adviser. She is a wise woman who was once a parish minister who now helps parish ministers develop their pastoral skills. I have been seeing her because I wanted to do my part of the walk we are doing together well. Now that I have resigned, the focus of my conversations with my spiritual adviser is shifting. She is helping me through the neutral zone, and her first advice to me was to do lots of nothing.

"Nothing?!" I asked.

"Yes," she said, "NothingGo to the beach. Don't walk. Don't write in your journal. Don't think, even. Just sit." [LONG PAUSE]

Nothing feels strange, doesn't it? We're so used to filling up our time, we have forgotten how to do nothing. Children do nothing all the time. They are growing so fast perhaps they know instinctively that they need gaps in their lives so that disintegration and reintegration can occur. They don't think of their growing as problems to be solved, or broken patterns to be mended. They realize instinctively that instead of solutions or fixing they need the renewal that comes with doing nothing. (Incidentally, I think that's one of the dangers of structuring our children's lives too tightly ­ stomping on their neutral zones.)

Sometimes in the neutral zone, along with nothingness we experience chaos. Chaos feels strange, too. In our case ­ yours and mine ­ right now probably feels more like chaos than nothing. Yet the chaos that follows an ending leads to rebirth.

I'm reminded of my friend whose baked goods always win prizes at the county fair. But you wouldn't want to visit her kitchen ­ or even her whole house ­ at the moment she walks out the door with her prize-winning concoctions in hand. Her place is a MESS. Yet it is out of this chaos that her blue ribbons come.

The gaps in our lives give us perspective. I spoke last week about "cue systems" ­ the predictable ways in which we interact and do our lives. When we interrupt or stop those cue systems we allow the possibility of new viewpoints, new angles, new slants on things.

So the neutral zone serves a very useful purpose. It leads to renewal and rebirth and it gives us perspective.

William Bridges suggests seven tools for the neutral zone. The first is surrender. This surrender is the hard part I've been talking about ­ giving up ­ doing nothing ­ just sitting. It reminds me of the second step of a 12-step program. "Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God, as we understood God." Surrender is very difficult for Unitarian Universalists, because many of us think we are in charge of the Universe. We forget that God gives us household pets to remind us that we are not yet in charge of the Universe. So whether it's a stain on the carpet, gnawed furniture, poop in the planter box, or unexpected contrariness ­ we're not in charge of Life. That's why so many people pray for serenity to accept the things they cannot change, courage to change the things they can, and wisdom to know the difference. Surrendering is a way of getting us in touch with what we can't change so we will gain the wisdom to know what we can.

The second tool is time and a place to be alone. For me, that's the sitting on the beach part. I'm not sure what it is for you, in a collective sense or in a individual sense. I do know it's important to create the time in your life and give some thought to a renewing space.

I don't know how many of you saw the movie "Bowfinger" this summer. Bowfinger is the name of a failing movie director, played by Steve Martin who is trying to recoup his career by making a low budget film. He has engaged Jiff, played by Eddie Murphy as a double for Kit Ramsey, also played by Eddie Murphy who is the star of the film. Jiff is a nerd, and he doesn't know he is simply Kit's double. He thinks HE is the star. So when Bowfinger directs him to run across six lanes of LA highway traffic he does it. Because he is such a nerd he believes Bowfinger when the director tells him that all the drivers are stunt men and women, and that Jiff is in no danger.

We, too, dash across six lanes of traffic ­ not literally, but symbolically ­ every day of our lives. We pack so much into a day and so many possessions into our homes that we have no reflective time and no reflective space. Thank God we have the beach ­ with nothing on it. Just an endless expanse of water and sand. All we need is the time. And we can make the time. We can do it. All it takes is letting go of something else ­ there's that surrender again!

In addition to surrendering and taking time to be alone, Bridges' third recommendation is that we keep a log of our neutral zone experiences. He's not talking here about keeping a diary, or even a journal. He's talking about widening our awareness ­ and when something comes into our awareness that we might not have noticed otherwise, logging it. Our logs can be drawings, or sculptures, or just a few words on a page. They are the "historical documents" we can look at when we engage the next tool, writing an autobiography.

Now, I know I am going to write an autobiography, because it's part of the assessment process I will go through for the Unitarian Universalist Association to be cleared for settlement. I've imagined what you might do as a congregation to write your autobiography. Perhaps put up a huge piece of paper to serve as a graffiti board, so individuals can record memories of the past. Perhaps have a night when you gather to tell stories -- an occasion where Charley, Audrey, Julie, Lee, Jean Akers, and Gretchen (your founders) each tells his or her version of how this congregation broke away from the Ormond Beach congregation ­ with those of you who followed them appending your versions, and those of you who joined them later telling what you assumed or thought the history of this congregation was.

This is what Bridges has to say about the tool of autobiography:

[I]t is important in times of transition to reflect on the past for a number of reasons ­ not the least of which is that from the perspective of a new present, the past is likely to look different. For the past isn't like a landscape or a vase of flowers that is just there. It is more like the raw material awaiting a builderYou can't follow the thread of your life very far before you find "the past" changing. Things that you haven't remembered in years reappear, and things that you've always thought were so, turn out to be not so at all. If the past isn't the way you thought it was, then the present isn't either. Letting go of the present may make it easier to conceive of a new future. Things look different from the neutral zone, for one of the things you let go of in the ending process is the need to see the past in a particular way.

The fifth tool is to discover what you really want. Bridges says it's hard for us to know what we really want because as children we had so many negative messages about our longings. Some of us were called selfish. Some of us were told we were misguided ­ that we really didn't want what we wanted. Some of us were disappointed because, although no one stopped us from expressing our wants, we never got what we wanted. Because of these experiences, when we find ourselves wanting something we find ourselves becoming numb or blocked in expressing what we want.

So let's do a little exercise. It comes from Bridges' book. It's a guided meditation, so allow yourselves to be comfortable in your chairs ­ both feet on the ground, if that's possible for you, legs uncrossed, hands empty, resting lightly on your lap, eyes unfocused or closed, head resting lightly on your shoulders, spine erect, shoulders down, breathing easily

Imagine that you are going to get yourself something to eat or drink right now. (Assume for the moment that you can actually have anything you want ­ all the ordinary problems of cost and supply are taken care of.) [In the silence that follows, let yourself become aware of what you really want to eat or drink right now.]

[Continue as you are. I'm going to ask you some questions. Let the questions float through your brain. This isn't an exam. Let the questions release a deeper knowing for you.

When I asked you to imagine yourself going to get something to eat or drink, what did you do with that direction? Forget the response that you did or did not come up with, what it is that you imagined] and think instead about the [response]-getting process. How did you go about it?

1.Did you consult your mouth or your stomach or your mind?
2.Did you try to figure out the response, as though it were a question on a history test?
3.Dd you imagine a menu and run over the possibilities ­ hamburger, noFrench fries, too greasyice cream, too fattening
4.Did you try to remember something good you had eaten recently?
5.Did you try to recall your "favorite food?"
6.Did you come up with an answer and then shelve it because it was silly or strange?

Be with your response-getting process for a moment, then allow yourself to come back to this time and place. When you are ready to be here, open your eyes and stretch a bit, to let me know you're back.

Bridges says that people usually respond to this meditation in one of two ways. Either they respond instinctively, using signals from their mouths or stomachs, or they respond strategically, coming up with a response using some sort of sorting it out process. If you came up with your respons in the first second or two, and used the remainder of the silence enjoying your beverage or food, then you probably used an instinctive process. If you needed more of the silent time to come up with your response, or if you didn't come up with a response, then you probably used a strategic process. Bridges says that if your process is strategic, "the chances are good that you do the same thing when it comes to far more important wantings and that here and now, in the neutral zone, you are not letting yourself know what you really want" If you want to get in touch with what you really want, you might try silent meditation, in which you focus on breath rather than thought. The Buddhist Unitarian Universalist Group (or BUUG) can help you learn some techniques. They meet this coming Wednesday night at 7 pm.

Two tools remain. The first of these asks you to answer the question, "What would be unlived if 'it' ended today." In my case, the "it" would be my relationship with you. In your case, the "it" would be this church. It's another way to get at what you really want, what's really important to you. Take time in the next week to notice how you feel when you imagine the church unlived and what it is you would miss.

The final tool is to "take a few days to go on your own version of a passage journey." I'm highly in favor of this recommendation. In fact, I like passage journeys so much I'm going to take at least one of them ­ at least that I know about now. These are intentional journeys to unfamiliar places, where you can be free from your usual occupations. I will go to a mid-career assessment center.

I'd like to suggest that you take a passage journey, too. As a congregation. I suggest you find a time in the near future to shut down the church for the weekend. Go somewhere. The church Libby Peet attends has some beautiful property west of DeLand with a wonderful retreat facility on it that they rent out. You can sleep in a comfortable bed with your very own bathroom right close by, just like in a motel. Or you can bring your recreational vehicle. Or you can sleep in your own tent. It's a comfortable and fun location for all ages, including olders and youngers. Donna Ferry has already expressed an interest in planning a church retreat. I'm sure there are others who would help plan the logistics. Since the whole point would be to do nothing together, it ought to be a really easy retreat to plan! She might not need more than one or two of you to help her bring it off.

In reading Bridges this time, I noticed a suggestion he makes in this part of his book which I didn't notice before ­ keeping a vigil for one night. "Stay awake all night with no activity more demanding then keeping a fire going or getting something to drink occasionally." If you did it as a community, I would suggest it be a silent vigil. In another part of the country I participated in a retreat where we kept silence from after our ingathering on Friday night until after breakfast on Saturday morning. We didn't do the vigil, but we did do the silence. Silence in a community is powerful and empowering. What a rich neutral zone experience that would be.

So that's my version of William Bridges' neutral zone. I've told you how important it is to do nothing. You can experience renewal, rebirth and new perspectives just by keeping the vehicle in neutral, and not heading in any particular direction. I've shared with you seven tools Bridges suggests ­ surrender, finding a regular time and place to be alone, keeping a log, writing an autobiography, discovering what you want, identifying what you most treasure, and going on a passage journey. You will find this list of seven tools in your order of worship so you can take them home with you as a guide.

This morning, in addition to the image of the neutral zone in my sermon , we've also had the image of a rose in our congregational singing and enjoyed Sena Zane's beautiful floral offering. Let us end our time together this morning by singing "The Rose," a lyric description of the transition process. The words are in your order of service.