Halloween. All Saints Day. All Souls. These traditions trace back to the Celtic “New Year” celebration of Samhain (pronounced sow-in). This transition time between summer and the cold, dark of winter was associated with human death. It was understood to be a time when the boundary between the worlds of the living and dead became porous, a time when the spirits of the dead returned to earth.

Our spiritual theme for November is Death, one of the most important and resonant themes in religious life. We Unitarian Universalists refrain from claiming any collective certainty about what happens to us when we die. Our need to be present to the limits of our own lives and to the grief and loss we feel at the death of those we love make this a season when many of us find our hearts broken open.

One of the most important roles of the church, even the liberal religious church, is to name the many emotions called up in this season…the loss and the fear and the yearning…and to help us hold them individually and together.

One of the favorite Unitarian Universalist hymns begins: “For all the saints, who from their labors rest…” It is sung each year at the UUA’s Service of the Living Tradition, when the names of religious professionals who have died in the last year are read and newly credentialed religious professionals are recognized.

Our faith has religious ancestors just as each of us has personal ancestors who made possible our lives. And those of us on this side of the boundary between life and death will one day become ancestors, whether we have offspring or not. This is the natural and normal rhythm of life that this season brings home to us.

I am writing from the Harper/Jordan Symposium in St. Paul, MN, sponsored by Black Lives of Unitarian Universalism. The focus of the gathering is the Black (Indigenous and Person of Color) experience of Unitarian Universalism. White UU leaders are here as well. It is personally restorative for me to be in this community and this space and I hope it will provide spiritual insights and resources that can also be shared.

Being in Black and Person of Color space always involved more recognition of the ancestors than is common in dominant culture space. There is more time taken and more focus on knowing that we drink from wells we did not dig and warm ourselves at fires we did not kindle. That is something we would all do well to hold, not only in this season, but each day.

The poetry and music inspired by the theme of death are rich and varied. Here is a short poem that points to the ancestors and through them to hope and joy:

My Dead Friends

by Marie Howe

I have begun, when I am weary and can’t decide an answer to a bewildering question

to ask my dead friends for their opinion

and the answer is often immediately clear.

Should I take the job? Move to the city?

Should I try to conceive a child in my middle age?

They stand in unison shaking their heads and smiling —

whatever leads to joy, they always answer,

 to more life and less worry.

I look into the vase where Billy’s ashes were —

its green in there, a green vase,

and I ask Billy if I should return the difficult phone call, and he says,

 yes.

Billy’s already gone through the frightening door;

 whatever he says, I’ll do.”

I will be back in Portland and in the pulpit this Sunday.

Blessings,

Bill