As Long As There Is A Universe

Transcription

1 As Long As There Is A Universe A sermon preached by the Rev. Lee Bluemel At The North Parish of North Andover, Unitarian Universalist November 1, 2015 All Souls Sunday I am a living member of the great family of all souls. William Ellery Channing ( , Unitarian) It can be hard to understand, sometimes, how a person can be here one day, and then gone the next. Of course, we understand it on an intellectual levelwe know that there is an end to living, that life and death are part of a whole. But when those near us die, especially unexpectedly, it can be hard to wrap our minds around the reality of such a sudden and complete absence. At such times, we may realize on a different, deeper level that life is not a given-- not for those we love, and not even for us, always. We may realize that we are more temporary than it seemsand that, as we often say, life really is a gift, each day is a gift in time, that is up to us to appreciate and to use well. In a way we would not choose, death can wake us up. And waking up is part of what religion is all about. As the Unitarian Universalist minister Rev. Forrest Church once said, Religion is our human response to the dual reality of being alive and having to die.

2 Some of us have full hearts this Sunday, as we remember our own loved ones on this All Souls, or as we prepare for the memorial of a 23 year old son of a friend this afternoon, or as we absorb the news of a friend and former member of this congregation who died last week at age 63. In some cultures this time of remembrance is a time for fond remembrance and celebration- involving food, flowers, lots of visiting and creating altars. But when we have fresh losses, it can also be a time for grief, as we face the impermanence and fragility of life. Rev. Elizabeth Tarbox, a UU minister who herself died quite young, once wrote about her father s last days in her meditation manual, Evening Tide. I was recently reminded of her words by my colleague Rev. Rob Gregson, whose reflections inspired this sermon. Tarbox writes: When I finally arrived at the hospital, my father could not speak. My father had been a blacksmith, spending much of his life hammering red-hot iron into pleasing shapes. He would come home with dirt under his nails and sweat on his body, and his shoulder and neck muscles stood out sinewy and uneven as he washed himself at the kitchen sink. He didn t look that different to me now in the hospital bed, the same muscular shoulders and neck, the same sweat.

3 But this blacksmith who had swung a sledgehammer over his head as if it were nothing at all, had not the strength to lift his head off the pillow. I knew he recognized me because he winked at me in the way that he would, his eyes cried as he moved his hands to invite my embrace, and it was painful to notice his helplessness. Why would I ever have imagined that he would live forever? Why had I ever allowed myself to believe that he was untouchable by age when, in fact, the eighty-four years of his life had been but a blink in the scheme of things, a few moments of sunlight, the trill of a songbird on the wooden fence, the strike of a hammer on an anvil in a blacksmith's shop? In this reflection, Tarbox confesses her stubborn denial of her father s mortality-- the possibility that such a man could ever, in any way, at any point, be fragile. She reminds us that even when we re not ready, a life can suddenly be over-- in a few moments, in the blink of an eye. Of course, if our fragility was the only truth, it might be hard to bear. But we human beings are not only fragile but strong, tough and incredibly resilient. That strength and resiliency can be seen in her fathera man who for decades swung a sledgehammer over his head as if it were nothing at all, a man who lived for 84 years. It can be seen in the stories of human history- so many generations of people who lived through drastic times and harsh conditions.

4 Human strength and resiliency can also be seen in our own lives in all that we survive- the illnesses, the trials, the lossesall the times we get up to face the new day. Life can be fragile and impermanent, but we are strong and resilient creatures. In the new book of UU essays called Landscapes of Aging and Spirituality, the Rev. Kate Taylor Taylor writes of seeing her heart in motion for the first time on an ultrasound machine, after her doctor ordered an echocardiogram. She writes: The somewhat ghostly image appeared on a screen, and I watched. I d never seen my heart before. There it was, the little pump that s kept me alive through the barely conscious years, the rigorous years, the searching years, and the finding. Through the awful aching and the joyful leaping. There it was, with its delicate quartet of valves fluttering a hundred thousand times a day, busy valves that have charming names (mitral, tricuspid, aortic, pulmonic) and that, after all these years, still pulse in tempo: Sustain, sustain, sustain, sustain. We are fragile yet strong, impermanent yet resilient. We are mortal- limited in time, yet- as our faith tells us- we are a part of all that is. We are part of All That is. Now, as Unitarian Universalists, we interpret this in different ways.

5 Among us there are different theologies of what happens after death. And these differing theologies are rooted in our own personal experience as well as our understanding of how life and energy and the universe works. Many of us can come to no other conclusion than our own. There are those of us who have experienced the presence or voice of those gone before, those who believe in the continuation of the individual personality or the soul, and hope for the reunion of loved ones after death. There are those who believe in reincarnation and our continuation into new lives. There are those who feel that death means the end of our individual personalities-- those who believe we will merge with God, or a greater Love, or a mystic Oneness, and those who feel that life is all there is, that we merely recycle our atoms, become part of the earth, and that any immortality we will have is in the love we leave behind, in our impact on the world, in our own tiny place in the history of life flowing from generation to generation. And then there are others who simply remain curious, or believe something quite different than all of the above, or who chose to set this question aside and focus on the here and now. For those with differing ideas, it may be hard to see how others can find comfort and truth in their very different answers to this riddle. But I can tell you that there are folks who find comfort and truth in each and every one of the theologies I ve mentioned-

6 whether they have a sense that death will bring a return to God, a return to loved ones, a return to life, a return to love, a return to the earth or a return to nothingness, while life or the universe will go on. Representing this last group, the poet in our second reading said, It is enough to know that the atoms of my body will remain It is enough to know that as long as there is a universe, I am part of it. Others might say, It is enough to know that as long as there is God, I am part of it, or It is enough to know that as long as there is Love, I am part of it. We are a part of all that is. Our Unitarian heritage tells us that there is a unity to all existence. Our Universalist heritage tells us that there is nothing to fear after death. The early Universalists became convinced that all people would return to Godwhose love and mercy was wider than mere humans could comprehend. Universalism says there is no suffering after death, no purgatory, no hell, no fire and brimstone. It says there is no separation of the good and the bad, no separation of those who earned their keep on earth and those who did not, no separation of those who succeeded and those who failed, no separation of those who lived superficially and those who dove into the depths, no separation of those who closed their hearts and those who let into their hearts life, and love, and pain, and beauty. No, it is in this life that we find the rewards or regrets from how we choose to live.

7 It is in this life that we, imperfect as we are, are invited to care, and give, and deeply love. Several weeks ago, I shared some from a book by cartoonist Roz Chast about her journey with her aging parents. It was called Can t We Talk About Something More Pleasant? It is a tough story, to be sure, in part because her parents were isolated. They had one another, and their daughter, but that was about it. They were not part of an active religious community, where it is fair to expect that their absence would be noted, and that people would come- to visit, to bring food, to ask their advice. That is a basic part of being a member of a religious communitythat we take care of one another. (If you d like to be among those to bring food or visit, contact our Caring Team co-chairs.) So in this story, there was no back up team. And at one point, Chast s father comes to live with her and quickly drives her nuts. Yet after he died, she was fortunate enough to see her feelings change. She writes, After my father died, I noticed that all the things that had driven me bats about him his chronic worrying, his incessant chitchat, his almost suspect inability to deal with anything mechanical now seemed trivial. The only emotion that remained was one of deep affection and gratitude

8 that he was my dad. This surprised me, partly because he had driven me so bats in the last few years. I could still remember all of that, but it didn't seem to matter. We are fragile yet strong. Impermanent yet resilient. Imperfect yet blessed by love. We are mortal- limited in time, yet we are a part of all that is. As long as there is love, as long as there is God, as long as there is a universe, we are part of it. And today, we are living parts of it how amazing it is to BE! So may we help make our universe a beautiful one in the time that we have together: a universe that smiles and weeps, a universe that sings and sighs, a universe that is generous and loving and quirky and beautiful, a universe that, in us, is grateful to be alive, grateful to care and to give, grateful to have this chance to love. Amen. Readings: Opening Words Adapted from a reading by the Rev. Christine Robinson, UU Dear Autumn, help us to live with the grace of falling leaves, the enthusiasm of the flaming Maples, with the serenity of the old trees, whose roots reach deep into the earth. Dear Autumn, help us to know that living and dying are part of the same whole, that life is precious, and beautiful, and limited. Help us to know that nothing good is ever lost. Dear Autumn, help us to see as the leaves turn into earth that we are not separate from all that is and all that has been. Help us to see in the ways of nature, a way for ourselves.

9 First Reading Death of the Autumn Leaf by North Parish member Delroy Smith You have reached your time of wonder, autumn leaf! The tree of life no longer holds you strong, In that last embrace, you glimmer in truth, Your true natures emerges, on the last breath, Expressing brilliance, in a brief moment, blissful, vivacious colors, seen in your last breath. You do not tremble in the fact of such change, You embrace your nature old autumn leaf, In your dying you alight our soul! Can we too face death like you? Expressing all that we are fully, not sinking into fear. You fall to the ground, giving everything to the last. Nourish the tree of life, into spring again, You incarnate again and again, Striving for sublimity old autumn leaf, Can we too live like you? The force of life needs your beauty too. In this last breath you are perfection, manifest! Your beauty shines forth, Our soul s beauty rises up to reach you, A sweet brief moment lasting forever, Your death is so beautiful! We cry for that to last autumn leaf, Can we, too, find beauty in everything? In every moment. Second Reading It Is Enough by Anne Alexander Bingham To know that the atoms of my body will remain

10 To think of them rising through the roots of a great oak to live in leaves, branches, twigs Perhaps to feed the crimson peony, the blue iris, the broccoli Or rest on waterfreeze and thaw with the seasons Some atoms might become a bit of fluff on the wing of a chickadeeto feel the breeze, know the support of air and some might drift up and up into spacestar dust returning from whence it came. It is enough to know that As long as there is a universe I am a part of it. Closing Words by Rev. Lewis McGee, UU, From the UUA meditation manual, Been in the Storm So Long, a collection of writings by African American Unitarian Universalists Let us rejoice that we are alive today, privileged to meet here in quest of life s meaning. The message of this season is that life is a precious gift of nature, to be lived at its best, to be enjoyed and wisely used Those who grapple courageously with the events of life will get more joy out of living. Those who so appreciate life and are living on the high plane are ready to die at any time. The death of the individual is the price we pay for being, but the eternal life stream flows on from generation to generation.