"Called Back to Life"
Preached at Throop UU Church
March 31, 2013
Easter Sunday
There’s a street corner in northwest Pasadena that on most days looks like any other. There’s a locksmith and Mexican restaurant on one side, a dental office on another, a Starbucks across the street. Usually, there isn’t much to turn one’s eye from the road.
But last week, every night as the sun set and the sky was streaked in orange and pink, that corner became something special. A testimony to renewed life in the midst of the coming night. Helium balloons floated up from the base of the streetlight. Tall glass votive candles scattered around in the grassy median. Oranges nestled together in the shape of a peace sign on the ground.
That ordinary corner became the vigil site and altar to a young man named Kendrec McDade. You may remember him as the 19 year college student who was fatally shot one year ago by the Pasadena police. I’m sure we are all over the spectrum about who was to blame in that shooting.
But I think we can all agree that the murder of an unarmed 19 year old, as he walked through his own neighborhood, is tragic. As Throop member Philip Koebel reflected: there is pain all around that incident: grief of the family and friends; fear of neighbors who are scared to let their teenagers walk across the street to the grocery store at night; possible regret and guilt on the part of the police officers who decided to draw and use their weapons that fateful evening.
Today, Christian Churches celebrate the joyful rite of Easter. Building on ancient pagan festivals celebrating springtime, fertility, and renewed life, Christians commemorate the Resurrection of Jesus. They believe that through this resurrection God offers “a new birth into living hope.” (1 Peter 1:3)
And so it is not without some trepidation that This Unitarian Universalist Minister steps into the pulpit on such a fine Easter morning. Our theology honors the humanity and wisdom of Jesus. A man, not a divine being. This is where our religious ancestors began veering away from our Puritan roots in the early 19th Century. For us, the Gospels end once his body is put into the tomb. At that point, the story is over. A great example of this can be found in The Jefferson Bible, which Thomas Jefferson worked on for much of his life, but he never allowed to be published until after his death. In his rendition of the Christian Scriptures, Jefferson excluded all mentions of miracles, including the Resurrection.
Look along these walls, the beautiful stained glass. You’ll see the Beatitudes and the Parables reflected in them - core teachings of a wise man named Jesus. And the stained glass behind me, with the living Jesus flanked by Mary & John. As a social justice activist, I love the stories of a devout Jewish Jesus raising his fist to the Imperialist forces of the Roman Empire. Yes! Turn over the tables of the money changers! Bring down the oppressive system! Go on, you community organizer!
Friday night a group of us from church had dinner and then attended a Good Friday Devotional Concert, part of the Sacred Space for Music program, where our own Jean Prinz performed so beautifully.
During dinner, one of our newer members asked, “So .... what do Unitarian Universalists believe about Easter?”
And there was a moment of silence, and we all looked at each other.
Now - you need to know, if you don’t already - that we ministers often struggle with what to do on Easter. As I mentioned, the Resurrection is not part of our belief system. We wonder, do we side-step it all together on this Sunday, and talk about something else? Do we focus primarily on the pagan symbols of this season? Do we put out a few Easter eggs on the altar table and call it a day? How can we authentically engage with this powerful celebration, staying true to our own theology and honoring the beliefs of our Christian siblings in faith?
So to this question from a new member, I responded: “You are about to get as many answers as there are people around the table,” and off we went!
Words erupted from us: “renewal” “springtime” “rebirth” “Easter eggs!”
Based on that small focus group, I venture to say that the majority of us connect deeply with the earth-centered traditions and beliefs of this time of year. And that we look at the Christian theme of Resurrection as allegorical, serving as another reminder that for every season there is a turning, a time to die and a time for rebirth. And those ideas of ours are good and right and strong.
And ... I caution against only going there. Right to the positive. It’s hard, because that’s how we are wired as a religious people. Thumb through our hymnal and you will see our beautiful, hopeful theology sing out from those pages. I love it and am with it 100%, and it provides a solid foundation for our courage and commitment that compels us to wear those bright yellow shirts and proclaim that we are Standing on the Side of Love.
And ... I want us to be wary of missing out on something important, although painful, that can help us grow.
During Easter, heading directly to rebirth, renewal, springtime means we lose out on considering the heart of the story of Jesus’ death.
I ask you to set aside for a moment your theological beliefs about the end of the Easter account. And remember - we are talking about this as a narrative, not as historical fact.
And consider the key, dramatic Good Friday moment. You know it. Jesus’ execution by the powerful Roman Empire for his subversive actions against them. Gory images of flesh torn away from his body. A man feeling immense heartbreak and agony and pain. The story tells us that his mother stands just a few feet away as he dies on the cross, crying out “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Anguish. Despair. Longing.
Who among us hasn’t felt at least one moment where we felt all alone in the world. Lost in the deep sea of the universe. Standing on the edge of an abyss, about to fall in.
I can only imagine that Kendrec McDade’s mother felt something like that when she found out her son had been killed while on a simple walk to the market.
I imagine the family of 17 year old Kevin Tatum, from Compton, is swimming in grief, after his murder early yesterday morning.
And it’s not just the death of a loved one that can take us there.
Ongoing depression. Chronic pain. Uncertainty about one’s sexual orientation or gender. Ending a relationship. Losing a job. Carrying considerable debt.
These emotions are a part of life. We feel them in one way or another at various points in our lives. In those times we do not know that we will be reborn. I don’t wish for anyone to be in that place, and I don’t romanticize it. There is no way around those times of suffering. The Easter story acknowledges the certain pain and death that we all face. (pause)
And like any good tale, it doesn’t leave us there. It reminds us that the only way out is through. That sometimes, through surprising and unexpected ways, we can “find the river of life” hidden away from us. (Palmer, Parker. Let Your Life Speak: Listening for the Voice of Vocation, p. 57.)
Deep peace can be ours again.
In our reading this morning, three women - Mary Magdalene, Mary mother of James, and Salome - went to the tomb to anoint Jesus’ body. Steeped in grief and despair, their hearts heavy, “their eyes, for weeping long, were dim,” they approached and found something utterly surprising. An empty tomb.
And instead of reacting with Alleluias and songs of praise - they were terrified and amazed and high-tailed it out of there.
I know how they feel.
We are in a time that frightens me. We live in a society where it’s easier to buy a gun than for a woman to make an informed choice about her own body.
We live in a country where one in three black men can expect to go to jail in their lifetimes.
We live in a country where the top 1% earns 43% of all the wealth.
We live in a country where 50 million people aren’t sure where their next meal is coming from.
We live in a time where our drive toward materialism has permanently altered the health of our planet, and no one is sure if it can ever be fully recovered.
If you feel scared, that’s OK. There are so many days I don’t know what to do about it, and I want to bow my head down and flee.
And then I do something crazy. Like go stand on a busy street corner in Pasadena, and watch the flickering candles at sunset. And listen to people talk about how much they miss Kendrec McDade. And that because of his life, they are more committed than ever to ending gun violence. And my heart unclenches a bit, and I feel a little life flow back in.
Or I attend a Good Friday concert at a local church, and listen to the most gorgeous music you can imagine, with the organ playing so low it vibrates in my chest. And I look around at my parishioners, all giving themselves over to the glory and majesty of that music and that particular story, and my heart unclenches a little, and I feel a little life flow back in.
Or I stand in a pulpit on Sunday, and look out over the most beautiful collection of faces that can be seen on an Easter morning. And I know that even though we may feel frightened for the world, hold grief for our earth, we aren’t going to stay there. We can’t stay there. Because we are a people moved by Love. And our theology tells us that we can do anything. We aren’t in this by ourselves. That we as a collective people have the power to make a change. That we are the ones we’ve been waiting for.
And I take a deep breath. And my soul opens up. And I am called back into life.
Amen.
March 31, 2013
Easter Sunday
There’s a street corner in northwest Pasadena that on most days looks like any other. There’s a locksmith and Mexican restaurant on one side, a dental office on another, a Starbucks across the street. Usually, there isn’t much to turn one’s eye from the road.
But last week, every night as the sun set and the sky was streaked in orange and pink, that corner became something special. A testimony to renewed life in the midst of the coming night. Helium balloons floated up from the base of the streetlight. Tall glass votive candles scattered around in the grassy median. Oranges nestled together in the shape of a peace sign on the ground.
That ordinary corner became the vigil site and altar to a young man named Kendrec McDade. You may remember him as the 19 year college student who was fatally shot one year ago by the Pasadena police. I’m sure we are all over the spectrum about who was to blame in that shooting.
But I think we can all agree that the murder of an unarmed 19 year old, as he walked through his own neighborhood, is tragic. As Throop member Philip Koebel reflected: there is pain all around that incident: grief of the family and friends; fear of neighbors who are scared to let their teenagers walk across the street to the grocery store at night; possible regret and guilt on the part of the police officers who decided to draw and use their weapons that fateful evening.
Today, Christian Churches celebrate the joyful rite of Easter. Building on ancient pagan festivals celebrating springtime, fertility, and renewed life, Christians commemorate the Resurrection of Jesus. They believe that through this resurrection God offers “a new birth into living hope.” (1 Peter 1:3)
And so it is not without some trepidation that This Unitarian Universalist Minister steps into the pulpit on such a fine Easter morning. Our theology honors the humanity and wisdom of Jesus. A man, not a divine being. This is where our religious ancestors began veering away from our Puritan roots in the early 19th Century. For us, the Gospels end once his body is put into the tomb. At that point, the story is over. A great example of this can be found in The Jefferson Bible, which Thomas Jefferson worked on for much of his life, but he never allowed to be published until after his death. In his rendition of the Christian Scriptures, Jefferson excluded all mentions of miracles, including the Resurrection.
Look along these walls, the beautiful stained glass. You’ll see the Beatitudes and the Parables reflected in them - core teachings of a wise man named Jesus. And the stained glass behind me, with the living Jesus flanked by Mary & John. As a social justice activist, I love the stories of a devout Jewish Jesus raising his fist to the Imperialist forces of the Roman Empire. Yes! Turn over the tables of the money changers! Bring down the oppressive system! Go on, you community organizer!
Friday night a group of us from church had dinner and then attended a Good Friday Devotional Concert, part of the Sacred Space for Music program, where our own Jean Prinz performed so beautifully.
During dinner, one of our newer members asked, “So .... what do Unitarian Universalists believe about Easter?”
And there was a moment of silence, and we all looked at each other.
Now - you need to know, if you don’t already - that we ministers often struggle with what to do on Easter. As I mentioned, the Resurrection is not part of our belief system. We wonder, do we side-step it all together on this Sunday, and talk about something else? Do we focus primarily on the pagan symbols of this season? Do we put out a few Easter eggs on the altar table and call it a day? How can we authentically engage with this powerful celebration, staying true to our own theology and honoring the beliefs of our Christian siblings in faith?
So to this question from a new member, I responded: “You are about to get as many answers as there are people around the table,” and off we went!
Words erupted from us: “renewal” “springtime” “rebirth” “Easter eggs!”
Based on that small focus group, I venture to say that the majority of us connect deeply with the earth-centered traditions and beliefs of this time of year. And that we look at the Christian theme of Resurrection as allegorical, serving as another reminder that for every season there is a turning, a time to die and a time for rebirth. And those ideas of ours are good and right and strong.
And ... I caution against only going there. Right to the positive. It’s hard, because that’s how we are wired as a religious people. Thumb through our hymnal and you will see our beautiful, hopeful theology sing out from those pages. I love it and am with it 100%, and it provides a solid foundation for our courage and commitment that compels us to wear those bright yellow shirts and proclaim that we are Standing on the Side of Love.
And ... I want us to be wary of missing out on something important, although painful, that can help us grow.
During Easter, heading directly to rebirth, renewal, springtime means we lose out on considering the heart of the story of Jesus’ death.
I ask you to set aside for a moment your theological beliefs about the end of the Easter account. And remember - we are talking about this as a narrative, not as historical fact.
And consider the key, dramatic Good Friday moment. You know it. Jesus’ execution by the powerful Roman Empire for his subversive actions against them. Gory images of flesh torn away from his body. A man feeling immense heartbreak and agony and pain. The story tells us that his mother stands just a few feet away as he dies on the cross, crying out “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Anguish. Despair. Longing.
Who among us hasn’t felt at least one moment where we felt all alone in the world. Lost in the deep sea of the universe. Standing on the edge of an abyss, about to fall in.
I can only imagine that Kendrec McDade’s mother felt something like that when she found out her son had been killed while on a simple walk to the market.
I imagine the family of 17 year old Kevin Tatum, from Compton, is swimming in grief, after his murder early yesterday morning.
And it’s not just the death of a loved one that can take us there.
Ongoing depression. Chronic pain. Uncertainty about one’s sexual orientation or gender. Ending a relationship. Losing a job. Carrying considerable debt.
These emotions are a part of life. We feel them in one way or another at various points in our lives. In those times we do not know that we will be reborn. I don’t wish for anyone to be in that place, and I don’t romanticize it. There is no way around those times of suffering. The Easter story acknowledges the certain pain and death that we all face. (pause)
And like any good tale, it doesn’t leave us there. It reminds us that the only way out is through. That sometimes, through surprising and unexpected ways, we can “find the river of life” hidden away from us. (Palmer, Parker. Let Your Life Speak: Listening for the Voice of Vocation, p. 57.)
Deep peace can be ours again.
In our reading this morning, three women - Mary Magdalene, Mary mother of James, and Salome - went to the tomb to anoint Jesus’ body. Steeped in grief and despair, their hearts heavy, “their eyes, for weeping long, were dim,” they approached and found something utterly surprising. An empty tomb.
And instead of reacting with Alleluias and songs of praise - they were terrified and amazed and high-tailed it out of there.
I know how they feel.
We are in a time that frightens me. We live in a society where it’s easier to buy a gun than for a woman to make an informed choice about her own body.
We live in a country where one in three black men can expect to go to jail in their lifetimes.
We live in a country where the top 1% earns 43% of all the wealth.
We live in a country where 50 million people aren’t sure where their next meal is coming from.
We live in a time where our drive toward materialism has permanently altered the health of our planet, and no one is sure if it can ever be fully recovered.
If you feel scared, that’s OK. There are so many days I don’t know what to do about it, and I want to bow my head down and flee.
And then I do something crazy. Like go stand on a busy street corner in Pasadena, and watch the flickering candles at sunset. And listen to people talk about how much they miss Kendrec McDade. And that because of his life, they are more committed than ever to ending gun violence. And my heart unclenches a bit, and I feel a little life flow back in.
Or I attend a Good Friday concert at a local church, and listen to the most gorgeous music you can imagine, with the organ playing so low it vibrates in my chest. And I look around at my parishioners, all giving themselves over to the glory and majesty of that music and that particular story, and my heart unclenches a little, and I feel a little life flow back in.
Or I stand in a pulpit on Sunday, and look out over the most beautiful collection of faces that can be seen on an Easter morning. And I know that even though we may feel frightened for the world, hold grief for our earth, we aren’t going to stay there. We can’t stay there. Because we are a people moved by Love. And our theology tells us that we can do anything. We aren’t in this by ourselves. That we as a collective people have the power to make a change. That we are the ones we’ve been waiting for.
And I take a deep breath. And my soul opens up. And I am called back into life.
Amen.