Opening Words

We gather to honor this holy day of Easter, one that is commemorated by over a billion people around the globe.  It is a holiday that celebrates the rhythm of life and death, one that honors the season of spring and all of the new possibilities that it brings.  We are reminded at this time of year that there is always new life budding within us, new truths, new understandings of ourselves and of our shared humanity, just waiting to be discovered. 

We are reminded, also, of our deep connection to the earth, and to all of nature that rejoices around us - even the miraculous bunny rabbits that hide pastel colored, hardboiled eggs.  Those bunnies and eggs come hand-in-hand with the bright-eyed innocence and surprise of our children, grandchildren, god children, nieces and nephews.  This is a time of year when we are aware of the joy and hope that new generations bring.

And so, as we gather to honor the seasons of our planet and of our own lives, let us join in the earth-prayer of the spiritual teacher, Starhawk.  She sings out, to all that is sacred, to all that exists in the universe and beyond...

"Earth mother, star mother,
You who are called by a thousand names,
May all remember we are cells in your body,
And dance together.
You are the grain and the loaf that sustains us each day.
And as you are patient with our struggles to learn,
So shall we be patient with ourselves and each other.
We are radiant light, and sacred dark - the balance.
You are the embrace that heartens, and the freedom beyond fear.
Within you, we are born, we grow, live, and dies.
You bring us around the circle to rebirth,
Within us you dance,
Forever."                   

(By Starhawk, Reading # 524, from the hymnal Singing The Living Tradition.)  

Come, Let us worship.

Offering

As many of you know, we are in the final days of our annual stewardship campaign, our church's pledge drive.  This is a once a year ritual in our religious tradition.  (I suppose it's the closest thing we have to a sacrament!) 

This annual rite emerges out of the religious freedom we so deeply enjoy within our faith.  Our religion broke away from the legacy of highly centralized, autocratic religions - religions in which someone somewhere far away decides for you who will be your minister, and what you will or won't believe.  That is not our tradition.  In Unitarian Universalism, each congregation decides for itself what its core values and beliefs are, and arising out of that, the kind of ministry it would like to have.  As a result, there are as many varieties of Unitarian Universalism as there are congregations.

Many of you have been to our sister churches in Clearwater and Tampa, and elsewhere.  Even our closest sister churches are different than us -- in style, in culture, in priorities.  The specific flavor of religious experience that is provided here, in this congregation, is not replicated anywhere else.  And, in our faith, what is true at the level of the congregation tends to be true at the level of individuals - no two Unitarian Universalists are exactly alike.  Each of us, as individuals, is unique in our own religious temperament and approach.

There is a reality that emerges out of the diversity within our faith, our ability to forge such distinct and unique spiritual paths.  Our congregations are entirely self-funded.  There is no diocese we can turn to for financial support; there is no presbytery that will lend a hand if we fall short of our financial target; we do not have access to the billions squirreled away in Vatican vaults.  Financially speaking, what we have is one another, the people you see around you.

This is my first year leading you through this annual act of spiritual affirmation, and it has been one that has deeply stirred my soul.  I've had a bird's eye view of this process, and what I've witnessed over the past few weeks has been incredibly moving.  People who are brand new to this congregation, who are still getting to know us, are pledging in noteworthy numbers and pledging generously.  Many, many of you have increased your standing financial commitment to this community by an astonishing 50% or more.  The church's strongest financial backers are digging even more deeply into their pockets, returning pledge commitments of more than double, and in some cases triple, our average yearly cost of $1400 per person.

That kind of commitment arises out of passion and love.  Passion and love of the ministries and justice-making work of this community. 

You have told us of the importance of Sunday worship, and how it feeds your soul, not just on Sunday, but for days afterwards.  You have told us of the joy and fun of being in community with others who share your spiritual and ethical values.  You have told us of the life-altering spiritual friendships you have found here, of the individuals within the congregation who have been your companions on life's path.  And, you have been resoundingly told us to continue making this church a publicly known presence in St. Petersburg and Pinellas County - the church that is known for standing up for truth, and human dignity, whatever the issue, whatever it takes. 

Those ministries are the reason why many of you have more than doubled your financial commitment this year.   

We are within spitting distance of our community's $110,000 goal in pledges.  We are roughly five to ten thousand dollars short at this time.  That may not sound like a lot, but in the event we were to have a shortfall, we will lose money from a matching donation in equal amount.  Falling short of our pledge goal by $10,000 will result in a budget deficit of $20,000 for the church.  Falling short by $5000 will result in a $10,000 deficit.  That is a lot.  And, we cannot assume that someone else will help us bridge the final amount that we are short.  We are the ones who must help close that gap.    

I know many of you have already reconsidered the initial pledge commitments you submitted, and have turned in new pledge cards.  For those who have, we extend our deepest gratitude.  If you haven't yet, or are still debating the possibility of revising upward your pledge, I'd like to personally ask that you do so. 

If you've been casually attending our church this year, and have been finding our worship services meaningful, I would ask that you make a first time pledge to our church.  We know that many of you, as casual attendees, are consistently leaving money in our collection plates, every time you come, but in order to receive the matching funds that are available, we must have that financial commitment in writing from you.  I urge you to do so, and today is the day. 

For those of you that may find it useful, pledge cards were provided to you along with today's Order of Service.  Please take a moment to fill these out and return them to us today, whether it be with an increased financial commitment, or as your first time pledge.

Our church is a church of the free, and that freedom requires our commitment to keep our faith alive as a beacon of hope and spiritual renewal for all who may come here.  Please help us do so.  Please help us continue and deepen the ministries that you have come to appreciate and find so meaningful this year. 

This morning's offering will be gratefully received. 

Sermon

Did you know that Easter Sunday is one of the highest attendance Sundays of the church year?  We ministers tend to find that even more people go to church on Easter than on Christmas Eve.  At Christmas-time, people have out-of-town guests and family members visiting, so it isn't always possible to make it to church.  But, at Easter, there tends to be less travel and we've been raised in a culture where, for many, it's traditional to get dressed up and go to church.  As a result, many people who don't go to church any other day of the year, go to church on Easter Sunday.  If you fall into this category today, welcome -- we were expecting you!  

It must be such a curious choice for someone who hasn't been to church in awhile, to choose to come to a Unitarian Universalist church on Easter; celebrating one of the most prominent Christian holidays of the year, at a church that Christian churches don't consider a church.  It's a bit of interesting trivia that the National Council of [American] Churches won't let our denomination join because we're not Christian enough for them.  At their meetings, we get to sit around as observers, as heathens who might one day find the light...!   

I'm actually such a confirmed heathen that I had a parishioner in my office this week, and we started talking about the bible, and when we went to go look for a copy we couldn't find one.  I said to her it could only happen at a Unitarian church that even the minister would have difficulty finding a copy of the bible.  Not to worry, I'm sure the Gideons will come to the rescue.   

Speaking of alternative religions, I received a postcard in the mail this week from the Church of Scientology.  Not a little postcard, but one of those big ones.  It had a picture of a forlorn looking woman sitting at a table, with a caption that says 'Are you having trouble with your personal finances?'  (She presumably has her tax return laid out in front of her.)  On the other side it says, 'Visit the Church of Scientology.'  Their new center, now open in St. Petersburg!  It was the first time I've ever seen a church use tax season as an excuse to get you through the door.  Somehow, I just can't imagine running over there waving my 1040...but, I digress.  

Jokes aside, there actually are many self-professed Christian Unitarian Universalists.  And, truth be told, if I wasn't already a Hindu UU, I'd probably be a Christian UU.  I have great respect for the teachings of Jesus.  In the context of Easter, for many of us Unitarian Universalists, if not even most of us, our individual understanding of Christianity doesn't subscribe to the idea that Jesus' body miraculously disappeared from a tomb and that he then began appearing to people as an apparition.  Some of us might say, sure, it's possible that this happened, in the sense that there are many things about the universe that we don't understand or know, but we'd also probably say that it's highly unlikely.  Others among us might say that it doesn't matter whether or not there was a physical resurrection, what matters more was the ethical message that Jesus taught while he was alive; we should focus on the teachings of Jesus rather than worrying about whether miraculous things happened or not.  

This approach to Christianity puts us at odds with the culture around us.  We know this, but I'd just like to underscore how deeply it sets us apart.  Our great liberal humanitarian Jimmy Carter writes about Easter, saying: "Mary Magdalene...had met the resurrected Jesus.  Peter and John had seen the empty tomb with their own eyes.  Jesus appeared...to as many as 500 others.  The resurrection of Jesus Christ is a truth on which all Christians agree, and [that knowledge is] enough for us to face death, and a future life."  (p. 147, Carter, Sources of Strength)  It's quite an unequivocal statement of Christian faith.  

Well, he actually has a good point.  There is no ambiguity within the Christian scripture about the belief that Jesus was resurrected.  As some of you may know, the four Gospels (Mark, Matthew, Luke, and John) differ greatly in theology -- with Mark, the most ancient Gospel, emphasizing the most Jesus' human qualities, and John, the most recent of the Gospels, emphasizing Jesus' other-worldliness.  All four Gospels claim a resurrection; they differ potentially in what is meant by that term, and what happened subsequently.  

This places a conscientious Unitarian Universalist minister in a bit of a plight.  How do I preach about a holiday whose central, defining event is a resurrection?  This question had been bouncing around in my head for weeks.  And interestingly enough, in a disconnected way, so had the lyrics of a song.  I have been learning a song that the men's choir I'm in will be singing later this spring.  The tune is catchy, and I couldn't get it out of my head.  (Now, I was going to try and sing this for you, but I'm a choir member, not a soloist, and I get very nervous trying to do solos, so I'm going to read the lyrics to you...)  

"As sure as the sunrise,
As sure as the sea,
As sure as the wind in the trees,  

We rise again,
In the faces of our children,  

We rise again,
In the voices of our song,  

We rise again,
Like the waves out on the ocean, and then
We rise again."  

What are the odds that a wayward Unitarian minister would have a song persistently, even insistently, running through his head the week before Easter, a song that just happens to be about resurrection...?  Some might call it serendipity, others grace.  

Well, the song isn't precisely about resurrection, but at the same time, it is.  It's a song about resiliency. 

One way of understanding the idea of Jesus' resurrection is as a metaphor for resiliency.  Jesus' message was counter-cultural, it was a challenge to the traditional Judaism of his time.  He was put to death in an attempt to destroy the message along with the messenger.  Asserting a resurrection is a powerful way for a religious minority to lay claim to the fact that the message did not die, in fact it's alive and well.  The claim of a supernatural event lends authority.  Not only is the message alive, but it's also the right message - "Look, God favored us and performed a miracle."  Regardless of the supernatural claim, certainly Jesus' message has proven resilient -- Christianity is numerically the largest religion on the planet, and has endured for almost two millennia.  (Now before some of you grab me after the service, let me share very briefly why Christianity is not yet 2000 years old.  The individuals who came up with the whole concept of BC and AD got the original timeline wrong, Jesus died in approximately 35 AD, not in the year zero.  So, Christianity will be 2000 years old somewhere around 2035.)  

Resiliency -- I believe most of us know what it's like to bounce back from a difficult experience.  We have all had moments in life when we have felt pushed down.  We get up, and it almost immediately feels like we've been pushed down yet again.  We rise, again and again, with the certainty of the sunrise and the wind through the trees, because we must.  If we are pushed down, and stay down, the only thing that is certain is death.  Choosing life means rising again and again, no matter how difficult, no matter how much we feel the odds are stacked against us.  

I can easily imagine that the earliest Christians felt this way.  How could they not?  Their spiritual leader had been brutally murdered, in front of them, and in an attempt to destroy their faith.  They were pushed down hard.  And in the process of trying to get up, to make clear that they would not stay down, that they would keep rising over and over again, they latch onto the metaphor of resurrection - an ultimate, permanent, and timeless form of rising again.  

Implicit in the idea of resurrection is death.  Resurrection could literally refer to a physical death, but it need not.  The experience of self-destructiveness frequently brings us to the point of near death, death spiritually and emotionally, if not physically.  There are no shortage of reasons why we human beings turn to self-destruction.  All around us in our culture, and here in our religious community, are people who have struggled with addictions - alcohol, gambling, smoking, narcotics, sex, food, shopping.  And these are just a few of the many possibilities.  The experience of near death, of reaching rock bottom, often leads to the decision to turn around, to try and rise again.  That experience can literally be like the rising of a phoenix from the ashes.  Much of your old life must be destroyed in order for you to survive; your resurrected self looks different from the former self-destructive self.  Rising time and time again is frequently our only life affirming choice.  

We rise again, in the faces of our children,
We rise again, in the voices of our song.   

For better or worse, when we feel life beating down on us, we try to bear it alone.  We are afraid that no one else will understand our pain.  Or, that even if they hear our pain, they might think we are unworthy of respect and care.  We fear others may blame us for having fallen down; we, in fact, blame ourselves for having fallen down.  So, we suffer alone, and in our loneliness the pain only deepens.  And thus begins the spiral downward...  

In contrast, what do we see when we look into the faces of our children?  We see innocence, we see gentleness, we see the possibilities of life.  This is an affirmation that even in the midst of our worst pain, we too are innocent, we too can be gentle, with ourselves and with our struggles, and we too have life affirming possibilities, we need to actively look for them.  Our children also know that they are interdependent; we, too, must continually re-learn that truth, remind ourselves of it.  For if we do, our voices, united together, are a source of mutual support - we rise again, in the voices of our song.  Not in the voice of the soloist, but together, we form the choir of hope, the choir of salvation.  

We rise again,
like the waves out on the ocean, and then
we rise again.  

And, so it was that I found myself graced this past week with a simple but powerful understanding of Easter.  The Christian spirit celebrates the resiliency of Jesus' ethical message.  We can honor that, as well as the fact that we each possess resiliency.  Through it, we possess the power to repeatedly rise again, no matter how difficult the challenge or the pain.  And for those times when life truly does feeling overwhelming, we have one another.  As sure as the sunrise, as sure as the sea, as sure as the wind in the trees, we have one another.   

May it always be so.  Many blessings to you and your loved ones on this Easter Sunday.