DaffodilTo believe. Credo. To know that something is true. The things one knows. This, I believe. And then there is faith. Not knowing. To trust the unknown. This, I will give myself to. Beliefs can be wrong. The world isn’t flat. Faith isn’t right or wrong though it maybe foolish or unfounded. God didn’t create AIDS as punishment for promiscuity. At least not the God my UU ancestors have been deconstructing the past 200 years.

Easter always brings up belief and faith. Fact versus the metaphorical. There are those who know that the events of that Sunday long ago are true, true, true. And there are others, equally as faithful, who only know (as many colleagues have said) that something happened.  We have not a clue what that something was or is. The veracity of what happened has never been the point. It was and is the story that has stuck. A story that continues to elicit belief and faith. As well as disbelief and incredulity.

Colleagues around the globe, from liberal Christian traditions and our own, are scrounging around, trying to find a way to preach one more time on the theme of Easter. What can any of us say or add that is new? We can talk about bunnies and baskets and chocolate eggs and the Hare in the Moon, and Eostra. We can praise spring and flowers and the earth’s rebirth. We can talk about the Passover and liberation of the ancient Hebrews. We can talk about faith, belief, betrayal, grief, human frailty, denial. Of the rocks, the obstacles of our lives being rolled away to reveal an empty tomb, a hollow space from which to begin anew.

For this year, I’m going to go with this time, this season, this Easter being the birth of the possible in our lives. With believing in ourselves and our abilities. With having faith in ourselves and our capabilities. I’m going with daffodils and the reminder that something happened long ago. Me, I am going to enter into Mystery and trust it.

Peace, Shalom, Salaam,

Rev. Lo