We All Shall Be Changed

The Rev. Glenda C. Walker, Emerita

April 16, 2006

 

And do I die?

 

How should I die?

My atoms

are the same that existed

on the first day of the universe.

My elements

are identical with the make-up of

The stars.

 

I am one with all that is,

and my brief life a comet’s trail

across the starry universal night

 

I do not die.

My elements are scattered.

New lights, new comets’ trails will use them.

There is, because of me, a new note in the song

sung by the morning stars.

                                       By  the Rev. Kathleen D. Korb, Unitarian Universalist Minister

 

 

Why it was wonderful; Why, all at

            once there were leaves,

Leaves at the end of a dry stick,

            small, alive

Leaves out of wood.  It was

            wonderful.

You can’t imagine.  They came by the

            wood path

And the earth loosened, the earth

            relaxed, there were flowers

Out of the earth:  Think of it: and

            oak trees

Oozing new green at the tips of them

            and flowers

Squeezed out of clay, soft flowers,

            limp

Stalks flowering.  Well, it was like a

            dream,

It happened so quickly, all of a

            sudden

            it happened.                                                               By Archibald MacLeish

 

 

        This is dragonfly season.  Millions of them are darting through the air – great green and brown ones with a wingspread of three to four inches; wee blue ones, like lances of sapphire light; little inch-long yellow ones, and beautiful, rusty red.

        Today I spent three hours on the dock watching one make that wonderful transition from the life amphibious to the life of the air.  Noon came and went, food was forgotten, while that miracle unfolded there before my very eyes.

        I was tying the boat, when I saw what looked like a very large spider, crawling up from the water and out on a board.  It moved with such effort and seemed so weak….I gave the creature another glance and….then I sat down to watch, for I realized that this was birth and not death.

        Very slowly the head emerged and the eyes began to glow like lamps of emerald light.  A shapeless, pulpy body came working out and two feeble legs pushed forth and began groping for a firm hold.  They fastened on the board and then, little by little and ever so slowly, the whole insect struggled out….

        Two crumpled lumps on either side began to unfurl and show as wings.  The long abdomen, curled round and under, like a snail shell, began to uncurl and change to brilliant green….The transparent membrane of the wings, now held stiffly erect, began to show rainbow colors, as they fanned slowly in the warm air, and, at last, nearly three hours after the creature had crept out of the water, the great dragonfly stood free….certain stupendous phrases rose in my mind and kept sounding through my thoughts.

        “Behold, I show you a mystery.  We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed.” ….

        When I came to myself I was standing a-tiptoe gazing up after it, my breath was coming in gasps and I heard my own voice saying:  “It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power….”

   From “The Miracle of Renewal” by Laura Lee Davidson, in SISTERS OF THE EARTH

 

CHILDREN’S STORY         The Great Change                       by White Deer of Autumn

 

SERMON              “We Shall All Be Changed!”

 

Today we celebrate the Great Change.  We celebrate rebirth, resurrection, immortality, reincarnation, if you will.

 

If we are pagan, at this time of year we celebrate the vernal equinox, perhaps the Anglo-Saxon spring goddess Eostre from whom the word Easter is undoubtedly derived.

 

If we are secular or pagan, we celebrate the rebirth of leaves out of bare branches of winter.  We celebrate the resurrection of the crocus poking its head from beneath last year’s detritus.  We celebrate the weak creature which crawls out of the backwater pond to unfold its wings and rise in power as the dragonfly.

 

We celebrate longer days of sunlight.

 

If we are Christian, we celebrate the resurrection of the crucified Christ:  the Jewish reformer, rabbi, prophet, messiah – whichever you consider him – whose resurrection was not of his earthly body but was, and is, in the spiritual body of the Christian Church.

 

In India, around this time of the year, Hindus celebrate Baisakhi, the new year.

 

They are onto something in the Hindu traditions.  In those traditions, when one dies one is reborn into a higher state or a lower being, depending upon how one lived in this life.  The Brhadaranyaka Upanishad states:  “As a man acts, as he behaves, so does he become.  Whoso does good actions becomes good; whoso does evil action becomes evil.  Whatever action (karma) he does, that he attain.”

 

From the Hindu perspective, the seeds of our actions or karma live on in this life and the next, and, at death, we transmigrate into another form or state of being, rarely another human being.

 

Depending upon one’s perspective – one’s reality, one’s beliefs – rebirth, resurrection, reincarnation, immortality are realities observed or wishes, fulfilled and unfulfilled.

 

Let’s examine these phenomenon.  Let’s examine rebirth resurrection, reincarnation, and immortality as realities observed or wishes fulfilled and unfulfilled.

 

Many of us want a life after this life.  Why?  It’s difficult to accept the loss of loved ones.  It’s difficult to accept the loss of self.  We want at least our consciousness – our spirit, soul, or psyche – to continue.  We enjoy life.  We don’t want it to end.  We want an opportunity to be with a loved one again: one who we didn’t sufficiently appreciate in this life, perhaps, or one with whom we need to make amends for some rift in relationship in this life.  Our wish for another life with the same consciousness and with some of the same companions is understandable.  Loss is hard; grief is lonely.

 

One can easily understand how the myth of the physical resurrection of the crucified Christ developed.  Peter and James – all of the apostles – ran away.  They left Jesus to stand trial and be crucified alone.  Judas betrayed Jesus.  According to the Gospel of Luke, Peter denied his relationship with Jesus three times before the cock crowed.  Who among the followers of Jesus would not want to believe that he was resurrected from the dead?  Their time with him was brief:  a mere three years.  They wanted to make amends for their betrayal.  They wanted – no, they needed – to be forgiven by him and perhaps they were, for according to the Gospel of Luke, on the cross Jesus said:  “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”  Of course the disciples were not around to hear Jesus say that.

 

Even the Apostle Paul, who never knew Jesus in this life, had amends to make, for until his dramatic conversion, Paul had persecuted the followers of Jesus.

 

In the aftermath of such betrayal, it is not surprising that heaven and hell became preoccupations.  What apostle who betrayed Jesus would not experience Hell?  Judas committed suicide.  What apostle would not have imagined heaven:  a place where he was reunited with Jesus?  But heaven and hell are of this world.  You and I have been in both heaven and hell in this life, but perhaps I shouldn’t speak for you.

 

So where does this leave us?

 

Frankly, I’m with Stephen J. Gould, Harvard paleontologist, who was invited to give the Ingersoll Lecture on Immortality the last year I was in Divinity School.  Gould said despite what we wish, he found no evidence for immortal life as it is popularly conceived. 

 

I’m with Karen Armstrong, British academic and former nun, author of several excellent books, who gave the Ingersoll Lecture on Immortality this past November.  She said: “It is impossible to understand the meaning of immortality if we are not prepared to give up the demands of the clamorous, frightened, and greedy ego.”  Armstrong continues:  “Immortality is not an endless succession of moments; it is not everlasting.  It is not confined to a posthumous existence in the future.  It is an eternal now.”

 

I have no idea if some psyche energy in the form of our present consciousness survives in the atoms or neutrinos of the universe to meet up with one another in another realm of being, but I’m sure of what happens to our physical bodies.  The words of Paul Sears describe it well.  When I saw them etched in the wall of the Great Hall at the University of Oklahoma’s Natural History Museum, it was an “ah ha!” experience.  I recognized what is, for me, truth.

 

            The face of the earth is a graveyard.  And so it has always been…each

            living thing restores when it dies that which has been borrowed to

            give form and substance to its brief day in the sun.  What is lent earth

            has been used by countless generations of plants and animals now

            dead and will be required by countless others in the future.

 

It would be well for us to give up “the demands of clamorous, frightened and greedy egos.”  It would be well to get beyond the insecurity, at best, the fear and guilt, at worst, that feed the idea that we are special beyond all other life forms and deserve life everlasting, be it in heaven or hell.  We are no more the center of the universe than the flowers blooming here in our sanctuary this morning, the caterpillar which becomes a butterfly, the leaf that appears at the end of the dry stick in spring, the nymph that clings to a board as it exchanges its aquatic life for the life of a creature of the air.

 

It seems clear to me by observing the death and rebirth abundant in nature that, like all other life forms, our bodies decay and become sustenance for other forms of life.  We are not unique in this sense.  We have borrowed our elements from the earth.  We return them to earth and this Great Mystery in which we life and breathe and have our being.

 

Many of us lack humility.  We fail to appreciate the incredible gift of life, albeit a brief thread in the fabric of eternity.  We are greedy; we’re afraid.  We too often fail to fully live now in our preoccupation with wanting to live again later.  We receive our cup of life from the Great Mystery and we don’t want to give it back.

 

We refuse to accept reality.  Reality is process; it is change.  We are a part of an unending process. A cyclical process, aptly called the Great Change or Great Mystery.

 

Abraham Joshua Heschel writes:  “If the human race perishes it will not be for lack of information, but for lack of appreciation.”  Heschel reminds us:  “Just to be is a blessing.  Just to live is holy.”

 

If we perish as a race, it may well be because we can imagine another life and, therefore, don’t appreciate and fully accept stewardship of this live and its life-giving and sustaining environment.

 

(Which Secretary of the Interior was it that was unconcerned about the degradation of the environment because there was, he said, another world and life to look forward to?)  (James Watts)

 

In our arrogance, fear, and insecurity, we fail to fully appreciate today, this moment.  We fail to fully accept the blessing of being.  We fail to reverence this holy life.

 

What a waste of the sacred!  What a waste of joy!

 

“Behold, I show you a Great Mystery.”  We shall not any of us sleep.  “We shall all be changed.”  We shall die and be sown in weakness to raise in power in new life forms.  That is the myth – the truth – of rebirth, resurrection, reincarnation, immortality.

Our ancestors were onto something.   They just didn’t fully understand what they were onto:  what Wanba’s Grandmother and Paul Sears knew.  The basic building blocks of being – animate and inanimate – are immortal, so far as we know.  The energy of the universe is the Great Mystery, God, Creativity, the process that Wanba’s grandmother identifies as the Great Change.  Death will be our healing, as Pitukim declares in the novel PASTWATCH.  Death is our redemption.  Death ends the pain of failing bodies, the loss of loved ones, the guilt-ridden conscience.  Death ends all that and then gives birth to new life.  Death isn’t the end; it’s a new beginning.

 

Don’t put my body in a concrete vault:  above or below ground.  Sow my ashes in a backwater pond.  I want to be reborn an iridescent damselfly like the one that sat on a leaf near me in the Oklahoma woods or the one that folded her wings to rest on the arm of my lawn chair while I was reading at the edge of a New Jersey lake.

 

That’s my hope for rebirth, resurrection, reincarnation.  No offense, but I don’t want to be with you in an afterlife.  I want to be with you now, today, in this life.  That’s why, in retirement, I stayed in Wausau.

 

I want to sing hymns with you now, today!

 

I want to run into you at the Grand Theater, the Farmers’ Market and the grocery store and visit with you there for a few minutes.

 

I want to laugh with you over lunch with you upstairs or at the Hoffman House or over dinner at your house!

 

I want to ponder important questions with you at Meaning Makers, God’s Debris, and Book Pack!

 

I want to admire the new addition to your home!

 

I want to walk a few rounds with you in the mall!

 

I want to climb the tower on Rib Mountain to bathe in the red-gold sunset!

 

I want to walk alone along the Wisconsin River early in the morning to again find an immature blue heron who stands so still on driftwood that he looks like a branch of the driftwood!

 

I want to watch the innocent faces of your children as, by turns, they squirm and whisper to one another or listen raptly to the story in the Sunday Service!

 

I want to hold Maggie Schmidt and I want to hold her now, right after this service!

 

I don’t want to se my father in some future life.  I see him now whenever geese fly!

 

I don’t want to be with my mother in the hereafter.  I am with her now when I wind the Dutch girl music box that sits in my bedroom window.

 

I want life and I want it abundantly now… not after death in some imaginary realm.

 

I don’t want life after death with my present consciousness.  I want to pour my cup of good back into the Great Mystery so the Circle of Life will remain unbroken, for to quote Richard Jeffries (adapted), I believe:

 

            It is eternity now.

            We are in the midst of it.

 

            It is about us, in the sunshine;

            We are in it, as the butterfly in the

                    light-laden air.

 

            Nothing has to come,

            It is now.

 

            Now is eternity.

            Now is the immortal life.

 

What do you want?

Amen.

 

CLOSING HYMN               O Day of Light and Gladness                       # 270