Faith is both a frail and a mighty thing.  It can hold us through the storms of life, and again it can be easily lost.  Faith.  Easter invites us to believe what seems way too good to be true. In fact, two of the lectionary readings this Easter carried that theme.  Click on the links below to read them...
Isaiah 65:17-25
Luke 24:1-12

First Isaiah repeats that God is about to do something new – in fact, to create a new heavens and a new earth.  Totally new.  Everything changed and different.  The people he was talking to needed that, they longed for a different world.   Isaiah has persuaded them to return to Israel from their exile in Babylon, but it’s been years and still the land is scarred by war and the temple remains in ruins.  The people are discouraged, exhausted, and despairing.  Can you imagine hearing these unbelievable promises given what they saw all around them?  They must have thought Isaiah was kind of crazy, these promises totally unbelievable.  They still seem unbelievable.

He says there will be no more pain, no more crying, no more children dying.  Everyone will be able to live to 100 years old and better.  People who are 100 years old will be considered young, even!

Those who build houses will be able to live in them, and those who plant and take care of crops will be able to eat them. Even today, those who do the actual work of building houses may not be able to afford to live in them, and those who labor in the fields may not have enough to eat.  

The children we bring into the world will not ever face calamity.  God will hear and respond to us even before we ask.  Lions will stop bothering lambs, and the serpents of the world will eat dust.  That's what happened in Eden, so Isaiah seems to be saying this new world will be a new Eden, a paradise.

He says our days will be like the days of a tree.  I’m not sure what that means but I like the sound of it.  Long days, calm and serene.  
   
It all sounds good, too good to be true – too good to believe in.  But that’s the thing about faith – it invites us to look beyond what IS and even what we think can possibly be.  It asks us to expect the unexpected, to believe the unbelievable.

We see the difficulty and the joy of that in Luke’s account of that first Easter morning.  There are the women, going to the tomb in their grief, prepared to anoint the body of Jesus.  They don't know how they could roll back that big rock.  Even that did not seem possible, but they went on anyway, going on faith. 

They arrive to find it already moved.  At the time, they would have thought grave robbers had been there. I’m sure they were worried, thinking maybe someone had disrespected the body of their beloved teacher.  They look in and it’s worse than they feared – the body is gone. I’m sure they thought someone had taken it, and that would make their grief even worse - not being able to give Jesus' body a proper burial.  I’m sure they did not expect what happened next.  Who would? We might, having heard this story before, but if we place ourselves in their place, imagine our surprise at what happens next.

Two men in dazzling clothes appear, out of thin air!  I would have bowed down and hid my face, too.  As startling as their appearance is, what they say is even further beyond believability than what Isaiah said to their despairing Jewish ancestors.  They say that the women should not look for the living among the dead.  

You can imagine their thinking, “What?  But he is dead.  What was dead cannot come back to life.”  Then maybe they remembered how Jesus brought Lazarus back to life.  They were with him when he did that, and again at the dinner in Bethany the week before - the one where Mary Magdalene anointed Jesus with expensive oil.  Lazarus had been there, too.  Maybe some hope began to glimmer about the corners of their grief-stricken minds.

The men remind them of something Jesus said, which they did not understand at the time.  He had predicted all this, the men say.  Don’t you remember?  "Oh yes, he said he must die, be buried, and come back to life."  More glimmering around the corners, maybe a few shafts of light breaking through the heavy curtain of grief.  What was it the men said earlier?  “He is not here, he is risen.”  What if?  No, it could not be, it’s too good to be true. But what if it is true?  Angels heralded his birth, why not his return to life?  These are faithful women, remember.

You can imagine their steps quickening as they return to the room where the men sit.  They want to share this good news, the dawn breaking in their minds, hearts, souls.  They burst into the room and tell the men, perhaps in gasping breaths, in bits and pieces, what happened!  How joyful they must have been at that point!

And guess what?  The men don't believe the women.  They think it is "an idle tale."  I don't know about you, but it seems some things don't change, much.   Remember that it's hard to believe the unbelievable.  People do not spontaneously rise from the dead.  But maybe they believed, just a little.  Peter goes to see for himself, and when he sees that what the women said was true, he begins to believe as well.  When we hear this story and imagine ourselves there, we share the amazement of Peter and the women.  We may find ourselves wanting to believe what seems too good to be true.

Both of these readings, the reading about a new Eden from Isaiah and the Resurrection story in Luke’s gospel, ask us to believe what is difficult to believe given what we know of the world.  Isaiah asks us to believe there can be a world without grief, pain, and suffering, where there is fairness, justice, and peace. This is hard to believe when all around us we see otherwise.  Luke asks us to believe that life wins when all our experience tells us that death always wins.  Both readings asd us to believe that there is hope beyond distress and suffering, renewal beyond destruction, and life beyond death.  

Scholar David Ewart says the Resurrection asks us to “trust the amazing void” that sometimes opens up at our feet, a void that faith can fill.  At times we all are in need of resurrection, and at such times it helps to remember that God fulfills promises, often in better ways than we can possibly imagine.  God is always creating something new- life breaking through death, joy overcoming sorrow, love defeating hatred, fairness wiping out injustice. 

We must have faith that this is possible, but we also have to watch for it to happen in ways we do not expect.  There’s a story about a man caught in a flood.  You may have heard it.  His neighbors come by and offer to help him evacuate, but he says, “No, God will save me, I have faith.” 

         The water rises and he has to retreat to the second floor, praying to God to rescue him.  Some people come by in a boat and offer him a ride, but he says, “No, God will save me, I have faith.”  The water climbs still higher and he has to go up on the roof.  He does, still praying to God to rescue him.  A helicopter comes by and they send down a ladder to help him escape, but he shouts, “No, I’m waiting for God to rescue me.”  Alas, the floodwaters still rise and he perishes.  Once in the afterlife, he has a little talk with God.  He says, “Why didn’t you rescue me?  I had faith in you, and you let me down.” 

God says, “Well, first I sent neighbors who offered to help you evacuate. Then I sent those people in the boat, and finally I send the helicopter.  What more did you expect?”  I guess the guy expected a hand to come down out of heaven and pick him up.

It is important to have faith in better a better world,  and to know it may happen in ways we can't imagine.  We also have to work with God to make that happen.  We can’t expect God to do it alone – that would be rather lazy and irresponsible of us.  I believe God wants us to help create this something new.  And when we do, when we work toward that new world, our eyes may adapt to the signs of it coming-to-be: healing coming to someone in pain, repair and restoration after devastation. We may see it in new ways to prevent infant deaths and to keep all children healthy and safe. We may notice it in people working to feed those who are hungry, to offer drink to those who are thirsty, and to build houses for people who cannot afford them.  We may see people live to a healthy old age –through practicing living healthy lives and maybe through cures for diseases that once were fatal.  That happens all the time, these days.

We may see it in moments, and maybe even hours and days of like trees – serene and quiet.  We may see it in those who work for peace for all the world. The new world is coming to be, and we can help make that happen.  The firs step is to believe it can, and to keep that vision in mind as we do the little things that shape it into being.

And resurrection?  Oh yes, we can see that as well.  We can see that life breaks through what seems like death, all around us and in many ways – and this can strengthen our belief in the resurrection, in what seems too good to be true.

Life breaks through. 
Time and time again,
life breaks through what seems like death.
Even in the heart of winter,
Light breaks through
Life breaks through
And unseen growth occurs
Beneath the frozen ground.
Some plants need winter
In order to flower in spring.

Life breaks through,
Even through stone.
Laurel trees have the strength
To break through stone
In order to sustain their vibrant lives,
Life breaks through.
Even seemingly frail lives
Can survive in harshest circumstances.
Life is abundant and strong
It thrives in unusual places,
Even in the desert.

Life shines through thresholds,
Even the threshold of death.
It blooms and grows and changes
Through the stream of time.
Life breaks through walls we build to keep it out
And it emerges from prisons meant to keep life in.

Life breaks through, shines through
The world all around us,
And it breaks through in us as well
In the forms of faith, hope, love, and joy.

Life breaks through, again and again.
And so we celebrate Easter –
The triumph of life over death,
Of goodness over wrongdoing,
And of love over hatred and intolerance.

Let us celebrate the too-good-to-be-trues of this world, having faith in them.  Let us go forth to celebrate the Resurrection, the hope of the world.

"Happy are they whose strength is in you; they have courage to make the pilgrimage!  As they go through the Valley of the Weeper, they make it a place of springs, clothed in generous growth by early rains."  To think I once rejected the bible that contains poetry like this.  The poetry is a little different depending on the translation from ancient Hebrew.  The above translation is from The Psalms Anew: in Inclusive Language.  This is the psalter I use in my morning meditations; it is translated by two Franciscan sisters, Nancy Schreck and Maureen Leach.

Another translation, the New Revised Standard Edition, is somewhat different - "Happy are those whose strength is in you, in whose heart are the highways to Zion. As they go through the valley of Baca they make it a place of springs; the early rain also covers it with pools."  I like the "in whose heart are the highways to Zion."  A note says the valley of Baca probably refers to an arid place on the way to Jerusalem.  Here the translator speaks of early rain covering that valley with pools rather than generous growth.  I imagine the pools reflecting the sun.

Still another translation Tanakh: The Holy Scriptures by the Jewish Publication Society has it this way, "Happy the man who finds refuge in You, whose mind is on the [pilgrim] highways.  They pass through the Valley of Baca, regarding it as a place of springs, as if the early rain had covered it with blessing."  The translators do note that the meaning of the last two phrases is uncertain in Hebrew.

You may not know that before entering the ministry I studied the relationship between thought and language in children, eventually earning a doctorate.  I originally intended to be a professor, to teach and do research in that field at a university.  Now here I am, still interested in language and the differences it can make in how we perceive the world.

See what differences translation can make!  In the first translation the faith of the pilgrims creates springs and verdure.  In the second their faith raises springs and brings early rains, leaving behind pools.  The third is perhaps more comprehensible to modern minds that require rational explanation - the faith of the pilgrims makes them see even a dry valley as a place of springs, as if early rains had covered it with blessing.

How we translate meaning into experience is also important.  The scientist in me leans toward the last translation, but my poet heart loves the first best.  I find the image uplifting and sustaining -  people of faith on pilgrimage who, as they pass through a valley of sorrow, transform it into a living, verdant place.  I like to believe that faith can transform the world, or perhaps I should say that by living our faith we can help transform the world  that is right around us as we journey together.

Years ago I wrote a poem "He Waltzes" with similar imagery, though more of autumn than spring.

He waltzes in sunlight, twirling 
wonder in his arms.

Leaves waltz after him, 
his yellow crimson 
crowned glory
revealing

awe
rising in his footsteps.

During this morning's lectio divina the words "God delights in ... those who hope in God's steadfast love"  from Psalm 147 stood out to me. I was curious about the origin and meaning of  "steadfast."  My favorite dictionary (printed a century ago) says "stead" is a place.  This makes sense given "homestead" and "stand in one's stead."  Steadfast means holding fast to a place -  "firmly fixed or established," according to the dictionary, "firm, constant, resolute."

The psalmist affirms that God's love is firmly fixed, that the Divine is resolute and constant in love.  I take this to mean that the love is there whether we hope in it or not - it would not shift depending on so small a thing as human ability to hope, would it?  But when we do hope in it, the ancient poet says, God delights in us.

That makes sense to me.  Isn't it a delight when someone hopes and trusts in our own steadfast love?  When my son was little I remember how delightful it was when he placed his hand in mine as we crossed the street or when he needed reassurance.  I loved how he would snuggle into my lap when he was sleepy, how he would lean against me, even when he was older.  It is delightful when someone hopes in your steadfast love.

Today I heard "hoping in Spirit's steadfast love" in two ways.  The first is hoping for that love - hoping that it exists.   The other sense is to hope in the context of that firm, constant, resolute love.  When I think of that meaning I find myself relaxing in its embrace as my son used to do. For me, hoping in that steadfast love has the flavor of trust, trusting that no matter what happens that love will be there for me, and for everyone.  It is sweet to think of the Divine taking delight in the times (moments only, sometimes) when I can and do trust in that steadfast love.

Today I re-discovered a guide from the New Hampshire Bible Society.  It suggests daily readings to help you the entire bible over the course of a year.  To be honest, I have attempted to read the whole bible several times before but never made it through, not even in my scripture classes in seminary.  I hate to admit that but back then I did not have the time to do so.

Now that I have more free time and my son is nearly grown, I want to try again.  My plan is to use this daily guide and an ancient spiritual practice called lectio divina.  Lectio divina means "sacred reading."  To practice it, first you center yourself and then read the text slowly, listening for a word or phrase that calls to you.

Then you meditate, repeating the word or phrase over and over, contemplating what it means in light of your life at that moment.   You can hold up a problem or question, repeat that word or phrase over it, and see what happens.  You can return to the text and read it all the way through again, if you like, to recall the context of that word or phrase. You may contemplate what it may be calling you to do or to become.   Here's a nice description of the practice - http://www.beliefnet.com/Faiths/Catholic/2000/08/How-To-Practice-Lectio-Divina.aspx

Today's reading from the guide is Psalm 146.  The phrase that grabbed me was "God lifts up those who are bowed down."  It is one of several verses about how God helps those in need - prisoners, orphans and widows.  If you were looking at it globally you could see this phrase as being about justice.

However, since lectio divina is about how a word or phrase touches you personally and spiritually, today it speaks to me of healing from spiritual oppression.  At times our spirits are brought low.  We feel discouraged, our self-esteem in disrepair, perhaps we even sink into despair.  Sometimes our spirits are so low it can feel as though they will never rise again.

In this light, "God lifts up those who are bowed down." sounds hopeful. It suggests we do not need to do that work ourselves.  This is good news because when we are bowed down we usually lack the spiritual strength to do so.  When that's the case, trying to lift ourselves up does not work so well, in my experience.

Sometimes when we are spiritually weak and try to lift ourselves up we employ feelings of injustice, anger and resentment.  These feelings do not so much raise us up as bring others even lower (at least in our own estimation).  When we use this sort of tactic we can move from being oppressed to being an oppressor.  We become what we resented when we act that unjustly towards others.

At other times when we are spiritually weak we may puff ourselves up in a rather swaggering or boastful way.  When we do this we appear to veer radically from humbled or humiliated to proud or vain.  This seems false to me; it fails to ring true.  I think boastfulness based on spiritual weakness merely masks a lack of self-esteem.

"God lifts up those who are bowed down."  For me, the good news in the phrase is that whatever  feels bowed down in us can be lifted up, and that we do not have to do that heavy lifting ourselves.  If we are willing and open Spirit can do that for us, often through people who reflect our true worth back to us. All we have to do is listen, and give credence to those who can see us more clearly than we can see ourselves in our bowed- down state. We can help by nurturing and strengthening ourselves spiritually.

As a minister these words suggest that lifting up others who are spiritually bowed down is Spirit's work, not mine.  I do not have to do that heavy lifting in that case either.  If I think I can, perhaps I am straying into the error of pride.  If I think I must then I am taking on too much and will most likely become resentful, spiritually weak.  It is not for me to lift others up.  However, Spirit can perhaps work through me as I mirror their worth back to them.  If they are open and willing, I can perhaps help them find ways to nurture themselves spiritually so they can become stronger.

Over time perhaps we who minister to others can reflect how they are being lifted up.  Sometimes this happens so slowly it's hard to perceive from inside.   We can rejoice with them when once again they stand as God intends them to - not arrogant or angry, but spiritually whole, sound, and strong.  That is the last meaning I hear today in these words from Psalm 146.  Spirit does not want us to be bowed down in oppression, but rather to be lifted up in dignity.  So may it be.

On our worst days, it is important to remind ourselves of what endures, what brings us hope.  On those days it can feel like we are the only ones who are suffering, and it can feel like our suffering will last forever.  At such times it is really hard to remember that everyone goes through hard times, and that they pass.

Hard times pass, and so do the good times.  In 1841, Unitarian minister Theodore Parker gave a sermon on what stays the same and what changes in liberal religion.  He says what stays the same, and can give us hope even on the worst of days, is love. He says love is the bedrock, the heart of all religion – loving one another, all human beings, and also loving something bigger than ourselves.

Theodore Parker called that something bigger, “God” but if that word doesn’t work for you, it could be life, truth, beauty, family, friendship, kindness – whatever you consider most important.  Those things last, even through hard times.  They are what endures, that upon which we can build our lives.

Here’s a little bit of what Theodore Parker write, over 170 years ago.  Like most people back then, he wrote as if all God and all people are men.  I hate changing other people’s words so let’s try to let it bother us…
“He that loves God and man, and lives in accordance with that love, needs not fear what man can do to him.  His Religion comes to him in his hour of sadness, it lays its hand on him when he has fallen among thieves, and raises him up, heals, and comforts him.”

Theodore Parker says that in addition to love, what matters is doing the best we can, in the best way we can, and with the best reasons for doing it.  Now matter how hard a day we have, we can love.  No matter how hard a day we’re having we can be kind. Later, looking back, if we see that even on terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days, we have done our best to act in kind, loving, hopeful ways, that can bring us peace.  After all, that is all we can control – our own actions, our own thoughts and deeds.

There’s a prayer, adapted from the Blue Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, that I find helpful to say every day.

“For the next 24 hours I pray for knowledge of your will for me only, and the power to carry that through. Please free my thinking of self-will, self-seeking, dishonesty, and wrong motives. Send me the right thought, word, or action.  Show me what my next step should be.  In times of doubt and indecision, please send your inspiration and guidance.  I pray that you help me work through all my problems to your glory and honor.”

What I like that this prayer is that does not ask that my will be done.  I recognize that my will is not always the best thing for the world around me.  However, I am not sure that my higher power has a will for me.  So I am working on a version that holds to the simplicity and intention of the prayer without watering it down.  To do that, I borrow a phrase from Howard Thurman, one of my favorite theologians.  He wrote, “keep fresh before the moments of my high resolve.”

Here’s my adaptation of the original prayer, using Howard Thurman's phrase.

Spirit of Life, for the next 24 hours, keep fresh before me the moments of my high resolve.  May I find the power to carry that resolve through.  May my thinking be clear of self-will, self-seeking, dishonesty, and wrong motives. May I find the right thought, word, or action.  May I see what my next step should be.  In times of doubt and indecision, may I find sources of inspiration and guidance. Spirit of love and wisdom, help me work through all my problems for the best unfolding of my life, and for the interdependent web connecting all creation.

Another historic Unitarian, Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote, “What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us. And when we bring what is within us out into the world, miracles happen.” In times of trouble, if we can hold onto the best that is within us, to our moments of high resolve, to the love that overcomes all obstacles, then like a tree with roots strong around the bedrock of love, we can let stormy times pass.  We can enjoy the serene beauty of peace, returning.

I have a confession to make.  I had given up hope.  For most of my life I have been an idealist, working for change, marching for heartfelt causes, demonstrating against war and greed,  for peace and integrity. My main concerns were for economic justice and nonviolent resolutions to social and political differences.

In the past several years, multinational corporations' unstoppable dominance over our media and our political process has led me to cynicism and despair.  It is hard to watch our government's increasing disregard for our poorest people, the systematic annihilation of the blue collar middle class, and what seems like endless warfare to protect and promote our addiction to petroleum.

All that seems to matter to most of our politicians is gaining and holding onto power. For that you need money, the backing of multinational corporations and those who hold wealth. Politicians who want to be re-elected cannot promote any real reforms.  And so despite high-flown rhetoric that periodically raise my hopes for the country I love, no real change happens and my hopes are dashed, again and again.

Mark Twain is quoted as saying that we have the finest Congress money can buy, and it still seems true to me.  It no longer feels to me like we have a democracy, but a plutocracy, a government of, by, and for the wealthy.  Using the language of democracy to promote corporate interests is as bad using religious language to justify terrorism, violence, and intolerance.  It goes so far beyond hypocrisy in my eyes that I just want to close them.

After so many body blows, my idealism decided to stay on the mat and let the bell ring.  I stopped listening to news that crowed the triumphs of greed and violence over common people and sovereign nations.  I elected to stop my ears, go about my daily work, and withdraw from a political process that seems rigged not only against me but against democracy.  I believe in democracy, its underlying principles and the promise it could hold.  I wish we still had it in our country. It seemed like that nothing I could do would turn the political tide.

Then there was the economic downturn of 2008.  I have seen the effects of long-term unemployment (loss of self-esteem,  depression and despair) not only in members of my congregation but also among my family and friends.  It surprised me to hear recently that we're in a new economic slump.  I had not realized we were out of the last one.  In fact, I had thought it was slowly worsening.  I feared for my son and all our children.  What would this mean for them?

The only thing that seemed to "recover" was Wall Street. It is cold comfort for those who are jobless, who have lost their homes,who have no access to health care, to hear that things have improved for the richest people, enormous corporations.  It is cold comfort to know that the people whose greed and graft led to a supposed need for a bailout are becoming richer because of it, when conditions for so many of us slowly worsen.  What sort of marker is the Dow Industrial Average for real, person-centered economic recovery?

Then a couple weeks ago I started hearing of a movement to Occupy Wall Street.  I did not hear about it from the national media, but through the same sorts of social networks that supported the Arab Spring. (Funny, that.  Is this the United States Fall?)  The more I read and heard about it,  the more heartened I have become.

I do not know if it will make any difference, this real populist movement for  tax reform and accountability. To the extent that we truly have democracy, perhaps it will. Whether or not it succeeds in promoting  reform, it is heartening to see some people rise from the mat and assume a stance, any stance, against the giants.   Images of David and Goliath come to me.

The demonstrators' courage heartens me.  Their insistence that they have a right to be heard, and to use the rights guaranteed by our constitution in gaining that hearing gives me some hope.  They remind me of something Ghandi said, that satisfaction lies in the effort, not the attainment - that full effort is full victory.  Some of my colleagues have joined and supported the demonstrators.  Me, too.  I may not be the idealist of my younger days, but I want to make an effort.  I am rising off the mat.

How many Davids will it take to have any effect on this Goliath that we're told is "too large to fail?"  Perhaps it  is really to large and influential not to prevail?  I don't know.  Perhaps we will never have the numbers to gain any ground, but at least I will do what I can to hold what little we have.