The Jewish and Christian traditions are foundational in the long evolution of stories which have shaped Unitarian Universalism. It is now the season for two of the most important of those stories: the exodus of the ancient Hebrew people from Egypt – the Passover story, and the death and resurrection of Jesus – the Easter story.

The Passover and Easter stories do not shy away from the hard realities of human suffering. They include graphic descriptions of plagues, armies, murder, brutality, loss, and devastation. They are stories which arise in times and places of oppression and violence, of the power of a state to use oppression and violence to sustain its greed. They are stories of people terrorized and killed and pushed to the edge of endurance, and they are stories of endurance and perseverance and un-extinguishable dedication to justice and love. Stories we can understand so well, because we live in these times too. The stories of Passover and Easter are stories for our time.

One thing I’ve learned from working with these stories for so many years is that I can’t fully understand what they mean on my own – I don’t meaning alone. I make meaning in relation to others – listening, hearing, considering. I need the perspectives of others, because there are so many pieces of truth. This is why we work together, why our justice and connections and learning work is led by teams.

I’ve also learned over and over again that the human story remains so much the same. Which is good, because the human story always includes new life, new ways, and the persistence of love and truth over and over again. What makes sense to me now has made sense to many others in the midst of times of devastation. Like so many others before us, in our lives now, we are called to let go of old ways and begin again. To be able and willing to accept new life as it comes, even if from the ashes of the old.

In April of 2020, just a few weeks into the world-wide pandemic shutdown, UU minister Kendyl Gibbons said this: “This Easter, as never before in many of our lifetimes, we are invited to seek the strength to let go of an old way of life, and discover what else might be possible.” May this be our aim this year as well.

Along with trees and bushes and bulbs, the Fellowship seems to be in a season of blooming! Events and activities abound – so many ways to get together with others, to share in religious learning and growth, to increase justice and peace step by little step. New formats and methods for communication are emerging. The Fellowship calendar suddenly feels full, as do the Sanctuary and the foyer and the Social Hall on Sundays. Tables are multiplying in the foyer – that’s a sign of activity and of the need for folks to invite other folks to join them. (Tables can also sometimes feel like obstacles – we’ll need to take care in how we use them.) It’s also a season of cleaning up and cleaning out – including some moldy carpets and furniture. We’re in preparation for renovation of the meeting wing of the building – finally, and we’re preparing for Stewardship season and Earth Month. It can feel very energizing and exciting and a little overwhelming at the same time.

Recently I found a prayer I wrote after a retreat of some sort, more than 15 years ago. It was like a gift to myself in this season of growth. May it be helpful to you as well.

“In the swirling of paradox in this moment, acknowledging my conflicting needs and aims, let me gather all the love I know, and give thanks.

May I hear the sound of today calling me, and may I never forget the call of all ages – may these calls from Life guide and steer me as I move.

May the path on which I move be a path toward more justice and peace: may it be as clear as possible and filled with enough curves to keep me from certainty.

As I move, may I be an instrument of the music at the heart of Life, ready and willing to be played and to melt into the song.”

May I wake up into more and more gratitude for each day that is given to me and for all that it offers.”