Each year about this time, the Earth re-awakens.
Everywhere we look, we can see evidence to new life and renewed life.
Just a few weeks ago, I saw the very first blooms
on the trees, and now the Valley is full of new flowers, new leaves and small,
yet still growing, almonds, walnuts and other produce for which this area of
the country is famous for.
As a tween, though we didn’t have that name at the
time, I first discovered the Greek story of Persephone, her Mother, Demeter,
Hades, and a pomegranate seed.
Already, I had been having my doubts about what
much of what I was being taught in church, and this story of a Mother’s sadness
and vengeance didn’t seem, to me, any more outlandish than other stories I’d
been told.
The truth now as I understand it, is that our
planet is on an axis, and as we orbit our own Sun, the seasons change.
It’s perhaps less romantic than Demeter’s rage,
but probably truer.
As Demeter allows the Earth to re-awaken each
Spring, she offers a sort of redemptive moment. She releases her anger and
sorrow, and she keeps her promise, that the Earth will continue to bear fruit
and feed us.
This week begins Passover for our Jewish friends,
and today is Palm Sunday for our Christian neighbors.
In the
narrative of the Exodus, the Bible tells that God helped the Children of Israel
escape slavery in Egypt by inflicting ten plagues upon the ancient Egyptians
before the Pharaoh would release his Israelite slaves; the tenth and worst of
the plagues was the death of the Egyptian first-born. The Israelites were
instructed to mark the doorposts of their homes with the blood of a spring lamb
and, upon seeing this, the spirit of the Lord knew to pass over the first-born
in these homes, hence the name of the holiday. There is some debate over where
the term is actually derived from. When the Pharaoh freed the Israelites, it is
said that they left in such a hurry that they could not wait for bread dough to
rise (leaven). In commemoration, for the duration of Passover no leavened bread
is eaten, for which reason it is called "The Festival of the Unleavened
Bread." Matzo (flat unleavened bread) is a symbol of the holiday.
For Christians, Palm Sunday is the Sunday that
begins the last week of Jesus of Nazareth. Many may know this story and many
may not. On Sunday Jesus came into Jerusalem, choosing to enter from the East
gate, which had some cultural significance, and on Monday Jesus clears the
Jewish temple. This is where the final trouble begins. Thursday of that same week is called “Maundy
Thursday” by our Christian friends. Maundy refers to the washing of the feet of
the poor. After washing the feet of the poor, Jesus and his disciples share the
Last Supper, after which he is betrayed and arrested.
On this Friday, known as Good Friday, I will be
taking part in two interfaith services, representing this congregation in the
wider community. Just after noon on Friday at the First United Methodist Church the Interfaith
Clergy Group that I belong to will jointly lead worship.
On Friday evening, I will be taking part in the
Ten brae service at the UCC College Avenue congregation. If you’ve never been
to a Tenbrae service before, it is a moving from light into the darkness of
mourning, following the story of the death of Jesus of Nazareth.
And what are we, as Unitarian Universalists to
make of this time of year?
A very strong legacy that we still enjoy, dating
back to the early expression of our faith was the Transcendentalist movement of
people like Emerson, Fuller, Alcott, Hawthorne, Melville and the like. It makes
perfect sense then for us to turn to one of our own, Henry David Thoreau to
offer us some things to consider. From his book Walden, the chapter called
“Spring,” Thoreau wrote:
A
single gentle rain makes the grass many shades greener. So our prospects
brighten on the influx of better thoughts. We should be blessed if we lived in
the present always, and took advantage of every accident that befell us, like
the grass which confesses the influence of the slightest dew that falls on it;
and did not spend our time in atoning for the neglect of past opportunities,
which we call doing our duty.
We
loiter in winter while it is already spring.
In a
pleasant spring morning all men's sins are forgiven. Such a day is a truce to
vice. While such a sun holds out to burn, the vilest sinner may return.
Through our own recovered innocence we discern the innocence of our neighbors.
You may have known your neighbor yesterday for a thief, a drunkard, or a sensualist,
and merely pitied or despised him, and despaired of the world;
but
the sun shines bright and warm this first spring morning, re-creating the
world, and you meet him at some serene work, and see how it is [his] exhausted and debauched veins expand
with still joy and bless the new day, feel the spring influence with the
innocence of infancy, and all his faults are forgotten.
There
is not only an atmosphere of good will about him, but even a savor of holiness
groping for expression, blindly and ineffectually perhaps, like a new-born
instinct, and for a short hour the south hillside echoes to no vulgar jest.
You
see some innocent fair shoots preparing to burst from [him] his gnarled rind
and try another year's life, tender and fresh as the youngest plant. Even
he has entered into the joy of his Lord. Why the jailer does not leave open his
prison doors- why the judge does not dismiss his case- why the preacher does
not dismiss his congregation! It is because they do not obey the hint, which
God gives them, nor accept the pardon which he freely offers to all.[1]
As the Earth turns around the Sun, so must we,
creatures after all made of the same stardust at the Sun, turn as well.
Just as we rejoice in the returning sunshine for
longer days, while we are still feeling nostalgic for it, before the hot days
of July and August are upon us once again. Just as we rejoice in the natural
pattern and rhythm of our planet’s trip around the solar system, we should
ourselves be prepared to turn,
toward forgiveness.
For the beings who share our lives with us,
and for ourselves.
and for ourselves.
As humans, we are often so difficult to interact
with. We can be so demanding and unforgiving. We can hold onto hurts for long
periods of time, harming NOT that person who hurt you,
but continuing to harm yourself.
but continuing to harm yourself.
Take this weekend, this vernal equinox, and give
yourself the gift of forgiving those around you that you love,
and those you only sort of like,
and even those who you merely put up with.
and those you only sort of like,
and even those who you merely put up with.
A few weeks ago I quoted the Buddha by saying that
holding on to anger was like drinking poison and expecting someone else to die.
Instead, I recommend to you, that you choose life.
If I may, I’ll quote a lyric from the Broadway
show “Chicago.” You can like the life you’re living, you can live the life
you’d like.”
As the world is re-awakening, after Persephone’s
return, and Demeter allows the Earth to wake yet once again to life, this is a
grand time to consider where you are with forgiveness and redemption.
If we’re to go with the myth of Demeter, when her
daughter is returned to her, you can see that she settles her upset and anger,
allowing Life to renew, redeemed from the anger of one mother goddess.
We stand, together, at this equinox as we do every
year. The equinox is a time of balance and shifting. We are on the cusp of one
season or the other.
It is not only during an equinox, or a solstice,
that we stand balanced between one thing and another, but because of their
place in the natural order, the natural calendar of things, we pay a little
closer attention to that balance.
This week, as the sun rises a little earlier each
morning, and the sun sets a little later each evening, ask yourself “What am I
on the verge of?”
What am I on the verge of becoming?
We are ever on the verge of becoming something
new, because the universe is constantly unfolding before us.
We are made of the same stardust that created the
heavens and the earth.
Why wouldn’t we also forever be on the verge of
becoming something new?
As you walk through your life, take time to notice
the new born animals in the world, take time to marvel at the blossom and the
small fruit that’s just beginning to grow.
And ask yourself, what am I, at the ripe of age of
whatever that is, what is waiting to burst forth from me, and how will that
beautify the entire universe?
May the blessings of spring be upon you.
May your crops, be they actual plants or computer
files, grow and be plentiful.
May our harvests in the fall, reflect a good start
to Sping, and a lot of hard, but good work in the Summer.
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