Courageous Love
A sermon written and delivered for Castle Rock UU Community April 17, 2022. It is a sermon about Easter.
I write for the ear to hear, not the eye to read! So pardon spacing and short sentences. Also, citations are not formal but included.
Reading — Rolling Away the Stone by Rev. Sara Moores Campbell (#628 in Singing the Living Tradition):
In the tomb of the soul, we carry secret yearnings, pains, frustrations, loneliness, fears, regrets, worries.
In the tomb of the soul, we take refuge from the world and its heaviness.
In the tomb of the soul, we wrap ourselves in the security of darkness.
Sometimes this is a comfort. Sometimes it is an escape.
Sometimes it prepares us for experience. Sometimes it insulates us from life.
Sometimes this tomb-life gives us time to feel the pain of the world and reach out to heal others.
Sometimes it numbs us and locks us up with our own concerns.
In this season where light and dark balance the day, we seek balance for ourselves.
Grateful for the darkness that has nourished us, we push away the stone and invite the light to awaken us to the possibilities within us and among us — possibilities for new life in ourselves and in our world.
Let us ponder these words and our lives in the next few moments of silence.
Sermon
The sun has not come up yet, and the air is chilly. It’s going to be a beautiful spring day. But Mary Magdalene isn’t concerned about the weather. She hasn’t slept. She can’t eat. She has a pit in her stomach. Her mouth is dry. Her head aches from crying.
Mary from Magdala hasn’t had the easiest life. For years, she has been ridiculed by people, told she’s a bad person. She’s been labeled a prostitute, a whore. People have raised their eyebrows at her. She has lived in shame. But recently, things have started to look up for her.
A charismatic but humble man has come into her life. He defends her in front of large crowds. He believes in her, and for the first time, she feels her inherent worth. He also stands up for others who are oppressed by the systems and powers that be. He stands up for those who have been labeled as sick, lame, disabled, poor, unemployable, beggars; people who have been designated as slaves, peasants, foreigners, illiterate. He chooses to be with all these people. He chooses to put them and their dignity first, rather than the label they’ve been assigned by society. He chooses to cross the line from his middle class upbringing to companion them.
Then he enters into their struggles with the civil and religious authorities. And those authorities don’t like him one bit. He and his friends have become targets of the government. As risky as it has been to hang out with this guy and his friends, Mary has.
Jesus has been telling them that they need to build a community based on love. He’s been saying things like, “I love you, and I give you a new commandment — that just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” (John 13:34–35). They’ve been listening to him, and their community has grown close.
But this morning — this spring, brisk morning — all of them are feeling awful because Jesus has been killed. Mary can’t muster the energy to bathe. She’s not sure how she’ll get through the day. All she can do is drag herself to where he’s been buried, the tomb. She gets there, but the stone has been rolled back. He’s gone.
And then, he appears to her and talks to her. Mary takes a deep breath, her stomach settles, and she feels peace. She knows his love has not been killed.
She feels it and knows it will endure — it will not end. The resurrection may have happened TO Jesus, but it has happened IN Mary Magdalene. She pushes away the stone of her own soul and invites the light to awaken her to the possibilities within her and among her people — possibilities of hope, wholeness in herself and in the world. Just like in our reading earlier.
This is the Christian story of Easter which I’ve adapted from the Gospel of John. Many UUs feel a bit suspicious about the Western cultural view of this day. We are more than suspicious about a man dying and coming back to life. It does not make sense to us scientifically. And we reject that the sacrifice of Jesus Christ is the only way that we will be saved from going to some fiery, agonizing hell after we die. But Unitarians and Universalists have been redefining and reframing the meaning of Easter for a long time.
Early Unitarians in Europe in the 1500s rallied against the doctrine of original sin and emphasized the potential for goodness in all humans. The sacrifice of Jesus was not necessary for happiness and holiness, but his life was an important example for how we can behave.
And in 1805, Universalist Hosea Ballou wrote A Treatise on Atonement. It was an argument against the Theory of the Atonement which was written in the twelfth century by Anselm. Anselm said that humans are saved only by the sacrifice of Jesus. But Hosea Ballou said that God did not kill his son in order to atone for sins. (Later scholars said that would be divine child abuse.) Ballou said Jesus came to demonstrate the power of God’s love. It doesn’t die. No love dying here. It is a love that is universal. A love that leads to hope, holiness and happiness; a love that is tolerance and open-mindedness; a love that produces peace.
There are various ways we can feel that love: in community, in nature, in ritual, meditation, any spiritual practice. When we receive that big love that never dies, then we can offer it. And when we do that, salvation can happen in this life. We can invite young teenagers to work in the barn and groom horses. We can companion couples getting divorced — without giving them advice. We can care for someone with cancer through their long and painful journey of illness. We can companion someone with Alzheimer’s or Dementia — day in and day out. We can parent loving children unconditionally when the work seems like it will never end. We can support organizations like Project C.U.R.E. and others doing great work in times of devastation.
When we soak up a big love, we can work for justice — just like Jesus did — in solidarity. Completely humble. Listening more than talking. Just being a presence of love.
Courageous love does not look like perfectionism or white savior complex. If you were here in January, you would have heard me talk about that. If we offer love out of guilt or to gain a feather in our cap, it can lead to paternalism where we think we can fix everything and treat others as if they need a parent.
Two weeks ago, I got to hear one of my favorite UU ministers preach live and in person. Rev. Victoria Safford gave the sermon at the Installation of Rev. David Schwartz as he enters into a covenant with the UU Church of Boulder (Sermon starts at about 24:30).
going to quote extensively here because her message was appropriate for an installation and is just as appropriate and relevant to Easter.
She said:
You work so hard to change the world, fix every broken thing through legislation, agitation, and still the world’s on fire, people dying, children crying. Everywhere you look the danger for Unitarian Universalists, the danger for us — mortal danger, like a mortal sin — is the belief that we can, in our lifetime, hard-work the trouble away, or reason the trouble away. The danger — when you give your whole heart, every drop of hope and sweat, and expect the world to change as a direct result — the danger is disappointment which can make you bitter over time, make a spirit weary, turn idealism into cynicism before you’re even old, make you feel you’ve failed.
She goes on:
Jesus said “the poor you’ll always have with you” and he didn’t mean ‘so don’t worry about them, you might as well get rich.’ He meant, I think…I think he meant greed and fear run deep in humans, so hard to root out, and thus inequity and war and oppression and poverty run rampant. So be about the work of hospitality, radical grace, and know that goodwill comes, laws will change, the arc will bend a little toward justice, but not all at once, and not in your lifetime.
Then she comes back to Jesus:
He meant, I think, as others since [him] have meant, give your life away, give it all away. Love with heart, mind, soul, and strength. And let go of your need for perfection — it is hubris to believe we can fix everything, control anything. Love anyway, shine anyway! Some things will shift, lives and souls will be saved, maybe starting with yours.
I wonder if that is what’s happening in Ukraine right now. While we are watching war and devastation, we are also hearing stories of people loving anyway. Shining anyway.
Here’s a story told by Russell Siler Jones who writes about integrating spirituality into psychotherapy.
A Ukrainian man, whom we will call Bohdan, works as a builder. His sister says “he has magic hands” and can “fix anything.” Furniture, electronics — anything that is broken, he can repair it. Bohdan and his family live in one of those cities in Ukraine that many of us had never heard of until a few weeks ago — one that is currently under siege. Ten days ago their apartment building was hit by shelling. He posted pictures of their damaged building on his public Facebook page, along with these words: “You can destroy the walls of our houses, but you can’t destroy our world, our spirit, our will.”
His wife’s parents live 40 kilometers away. The fighting near their home had become especially intense, and they decided it was time to evacuate. They have a car, but neither of them drives. The car belongs to their son, and he is away supporting the war effort. So Bohdan, who is a marathon runner, ran the 25 miles to his in-laws’ home. In the rain. Through areas where shelling was occurring. He drove them to a safer place — safer for now, anyway — and then returned to his apartment. The next day he went back to building and rebuilding.
The story is shared in Psychology Today not to glorify war or forget about other countries being ravaged by war right now: Ethiopia, Yemen, Afghanistan, and our neighbor Mexico, where over 10,000 people died last year in the drug war.
No, the story is told to remind us of the human capacity for love, courage, and resilience. It’s told to remind us that we can create little moments of salvation when we share that love, courage and resilience.
So be about the work of hospitality, radical grace, and know that goodwill comes. Love with heart, mind, soul, and strength. And when you haven’t slept or can’t eat. When you have a pit in your stomach or a headache from your own grief and struggle, remember that there is a love holding us — a love that never dies. Lean on it.
That will enable you to offer courageous love outwardly again. Not with your hard work or superb reason, but with your mere presence. Just letting someone lean on you.
Love. Shine. Lives and souls will be saved.
May it be so.
