"The Ultimate Gift of Life"

On Easter Sunday last year, I skipped church.

I turned on the TV instead.

We were in Rome, 

        and the Vatican channel offered the best view

                of the Jubilee Year Easter festivities taking place there.

 

Easter Sunday culminated a week of pageantry in the Holy City.

We were easily drawn into the drama of the faltering pope

        as he processed through the Stations of the Cross at the Coliseum,

                and preached on Easter Sunday,

                        with his physician by his side, 

                                to the crowd of worshippers 

                                        gathered in Saint Peter's Square.

Living up to the occasion was clearly a strain for the frail leader,

        but he fulfilled his role with grace and courage.

Easter at the Vatican presented the unintended spectacle 

        of aging with dignity,

                and we were moved by it. 

 

Later in the morning, 

        not wanting to be bystanders all day,

                David and I set out to see what else happened in Rome

                        on Easter Sunday.

It was a beautiful spring day,

        and by noon time the lush parks and ancient piazzas

                were filled with families.

Easter is a family holiday there.

Great picnics were spread everywhere,

        and everyone feasted on the food 

                for which the country is justifiably well known.

Children and dogs played on the new green grass.

Below the Aventine Hill, where David and I were walking,

        buses of pilgrims kept up their perpetual rounds of the basilicas,

                but for everyone else, 

                        it was a break from routine.

In contrast to the doctrinally precise pageantry of the Vatican,

        the people celebrated Easter 

                as a time for simple family pleasures,

                        to rest, eat and enjoy each other’s company.

 

I had not been thinking about last Easter in Rome

        until I turned to Bishop John Shelby Spong’s reading

                to prepare for the service today.

His words reminded me

        that the reality of our relatedness –

                the connection all people share –

                        lead to a personal image of what this holiday means 

And then I recalled the vivid contrast

        between Easter in the park

                and Easter at the Vatican.

One does seem more real than the other.

 

Easter has always been complex 

        and even problematic in our liberal religious tradition.

Our Puritan forbears sternly forbade the observance of Easter,

        condemning it as a "popish" festival,

                too colorful and joyous to be theologically correct.

Today we willingly embrace what is colorful and joyous,

        but avoid the questions it raises 

                about the life and death of Jesus.

We recognize the pagan and agrarian roots 

        in the connection between earth’s renewal and human resilience,

                which is helpful,

                        except that it does not tell us

                                what to make of our suffering

                                        and of the desire for our own lives 

                                                to make a lasting difference.

 

Having inherited the Unitarian stance 

        denying the divinity of Jesus

                and the miracle of resurrection

                        only makes it harder for us to find personal relevance

                                at this point in the Christian story.

And yet, the work and teachings of Jesus

        have also offered our tradition

                the model of a life well lived

                        and well worth remembering.

The Unitarian preacher Theodore Parker expressed this sentiment well 

        when he said,

                over a hundred and fifty year ago,

                        that it was Jesus' "character that made [us] believe

                                he wrought miracles."

"It is this," Parker continued,

        "which makes his memory

                so precious to the world."

 

In the story of Jesus, human life and its redeeming value

        break through with new significance.

To the diverse origins of Easter,

        Jesus' humanity adds a uniquely personal meaning,

                one that even non-Christians may find relevant.

And from his story

        we receive a sense of eternity 

                in the human capacity to make 

                        a profound difference in others' lives,

                                and to live forever 

                                        through the difference we have made.

Jesus' memory is "precious to the world,"

        and so is that of any human being

                who dares to live fully 

                        and love deeply.

 

What John Shelby Spong calls "the ultimate gift of life"

        is the possibility that living fully and loving deeply

                can show us more than we ever realized.

What our connections with each other 

        may show us is what 

                he would call eternal life itself –

                        the potential we possess to live 

                                in and through each other

                                        in all the familiar,

                                                well-worn and humble ways

                                                        we already know.

Perhaps we have vastly underestimated 

        the power of our relatedness

                to hold us and make us whole.

Jesus said, "The kingdom of God is within you."

He might have meant that in our humanity 

        we already have what we seek.

That is why the image of Roman families,

        enjoying Easter in the park,

                conveys more personal meaning to me

                        than the pageantry of the observance at the Vatican.

Yet even at the Vatican,

        humanity broke through 

                in the person of the pope himself,

                        gamely keeping up with the demands of his position.

Ultimately, Easter is about humanity in all its dimensions –

        from the epic narrative of the life of Jesus

                to the daily travails of the rest of us.

 

Easter connects humanity to eternity --

        though not to eternity as heaven or hell,

                as Bishop Spong hastens to point out.

Easter connects us to the renewal of the earth,

        a way to experience eternity

                through the cycles of death and rebirth in nature.      

It also connects us to eternity 

        in the form of human relationships,

                family and friends,

                        in living fully and loving deeply.

The experience begins with acknowledging our interdependence,

        which is a reality of all life.

But Bishop Spong goes deeply and personally

        into what he has gleaned about eternal life

                from his experience of relationship.

 

He describes it this way:

"I am a person," he writes,

        "who knows what it means to be loved.

I live inside the love of a wonderful wife,

        a supportive family,

                and a host of friends.  

I live with the appreciation of those who seem to feel

        that both the person I am

                and the words I speak and write 

                        have been a source of love 

                                and/or acceptance for them.

As I receive affirmation and love from these sources,

        I discover that a new ability is born within me

                to be loving.

 

I grasp a new dimension of life.

I lay a new claim on what it means to be.

This love emboldens me to press life's edges,

        to touch those dimensions of life 

                that we call transcendence,

                        to be introduced to that 

                                which is both infinite and beyond

                                        but that also seems to dwell 

                                                in the heart of love.

As I am empowered, affirmed, and called

        by the life-giving power of love

                to venture nearer and nearer to that ultimate core of being,

                        I discover myself shedding limits,

                                abandoning my security walls,

                                        and being freed to give more of my life

                                                and my being away.

 

Remarkably, this giving experience 

        is not accompanied by any sense of loss.

I also discover an ability to accept

        and even to love

                what at an earlier and less secure time in my life

                        I could not or would not

                                have been able even to tolerate.

This insight enables me to become newly aware

        of the infinite quality of that ultimate truth

                that I grasp only at its edges."

 

Through the experience of growth in our love for others,

        we become aware of 

                "the infinite quality of that ultimate truth."

Here is the gateway to eternal life,

        as John Shelby Spong has narrated it for us:

                to love, 

                        to grow,

                                and to give without a sense of loss.

 

In the classic children's story by Margery Williams,

        "The Velveteen Rabbit,"

                the rabbit learns that to become real

                        is to have your hair loved off,

                                your eyes drop out and your joints get shabby.

It can't happen unless you let yourself 

        be held and handled by a child;

                until having expended all your charm and cuteness,

                        who you are 

                                is what those who love you

                                        actually see.

And then you not only become real for now,

        you become real forever.

As the Skin Horse said,

        "once you are Real, 

                you can't become unreal again."

                

"The Velveteen Rabbit" is a fable about authenticity and eternal life.

It shows us in vivid images 

        the experience John Shelby Spong offered us 

                from his own life.

As we grow in our attachment to others,

        we become people who can give 

                without a sense of loss.

And when we do,

        we grasp the "infinite quality of that ultimate truth"

                that the center of life is eternal,

                        forever renewing itself in our lives,

                                always leading us, 

                                        through love,

                                                to greater expressions of our humanity.

Possibly the greatest expression of our humanity –

        to be able to give

                without a sense of loss –

                        is what Christians revere in the life and death of Jesus,

                                and what people of all faiths can appreciate

                                        as the ultimate gift of any loving life.

 

The ultimate gift is what we have to offer the world,

        what comes out of the center of our being

                and defines our humanity.

What we have to offer is love,

        in all the familiar connections

                we make to one another all our lives.

Love is life giving,

        but it is not free of pain,

                or of the abrasions that come from contact with others.

It is simply what makes us real forever.

Then life has no end,

        because we have lived fully and loved deeply

                as life has asked us to do.

The readings come from Why Christianity Must Change or Die, by John Shelby Spong(Harper San Francisco, 1998).