It was a beautiful and lush summer day. I was living near the Queyras, in the Alps, a very ancient mountain range, with a small village perched higher than any other point in all of France. It was truly a perfect day amidst the peaks, so I and my new friends, the Rombaut family – packed a simple lunch and took off in the car towards the winding roads that spiral towards the heavens. 

At a certain point, the beauty of our surroundings called us out of the heavy metal and glass frame of the car that lay between us and our surroundings. We took the rest of the journey on foot and hiked up to a flat spot just right for a blanket for six. It is quite something to have a picnic amidst the peaks – a place that I have learned – opens up a space in my mind where I wonder and marvel at it all.    

I looked around and, in some ways, I could be in any plot of grass dotted with the reds, and yellows, and purples and blues of flowers looking up at the sky on an afternoon now grown warm enough for me to peel of the layer of my jean jacket. And yet, it was not like any other place I had known for when I looked to the sky – I could look out and not just up – I could see clouds beside me and not just above me – I could see the infinite blue and white spread out before me interrupted by the greens, and browns and grays and whites of the angular, triangular mountains.  It was as if nothing else mattered – but that moment, savoring a sandwich and a conversation with new friends – who taught me something about how rich and even lavish – life could be – if you made time for love, food, laughter, and peaks to play a role in your life. 

After lunch we returned to the car and climbed higher. And then it happened… on this warm afternoon in June… I saw the delicious sight of snow.  It blew me away.  I could see the peaks were dotted with white here and there, but somehow to be in the middle of – a snowstorm in summer was beyond what I had imagined experiencing as one who is accustomed to living close to sea level.  I asked my host family to stop and ran out of the car with delight leaving my jacket behind but not caring. 

I wanted to feel the snow melt as it touched the warmth of my elbows still warm from effort of all our hiking.  The view here changed from the greens and browns and reds and purples and yellows to blues and grays and white and the color of crystal and winter.  It was as if, before I left this place, the mountains wanted me to know that there is always one more joy hidden somewhere, perhaps around the next bend.  A snowstorm in summer… yes, I would never have expected it… never have thought to ask for it… never have known how hopeful, how splendid it would feel.  It was one of those moments… when the color of the world captures your heart and of course, you have your point and shoot camera with you and you snap away… but no matter how good the kodakolor system… the photos you show later – never grab that feeling… of surprise, of the splendor of it all, of recognizing that this is your home… that you and those mountains and that snow… all descend from the very same mystery and miracle… that somehow you have received this gift of life… that somehow despite your having done nothing to earn it… the ability to reach new heights is yours… and yet, you would not make it on your own… you could not create the path… it was there before you were born.  A sense of power tempered by humility, a sense of possibility with a twinge of impossibility… a sense that the divine might be watching – a sense that you and all your surroundings are awash in the sacred.  Yes, I have long since lost those photographs… but the feeling has returned bidden and unbidden on occasion. 

It is no wonder that Zeus lived on a mountain and that feeling of deep connection with the universe, that feeling of being awash in a holy mix of love and joy and life, is often described as a peak or ecstatic religious experience.

As Unitarian minister, Ralph Waldo Emerson would tell us, all the scriptures and creeds and efforts of religions to pass down the knowledge that creation is shot through with light and love are like the photographs… sometimes a glimpse of the stunning… but always falling short of the “real deal” of your mountain top encounter… be it the birth of a child, a moonlit night on the ocean, a moment where time stands still after two at war find they are at peace, a moment of generosity that takes your breath away, the miracle of being given a second chance at life after you never appreciated the first one. 

The point is not just to listen to my story or to glorify the experiences of Jesus, or Buddha or any other person… but rather to get into your own car and go on a journey… to open your heart to an encounter with the unlikely… to quiet the rational mind for a moment and to just be and bask and feel and cry and hope and tremble in the presence of the miracle, the mystery and the fragility and resiliency of life. 

This is the heart of our first of six UU sources, to have “direct experience of that transcending mystery and wonder affirmed in all cultures, which moves us to a renewal of the spirit and an openness to the forces that create and uphold life.”

In his famous speech to a graduating class of Unitarian ministers at Harvard in 1838, Emerson said, “refuse the good models, dare to love God without mediator or veil”… and, “cast behind you all conformity, and acquaint men at first hand with Deity.”

He spoke against simply receiving doctrines from the past and for the importance of trusting our own intuition and our own experience of the divine. And in that sermon, he did cast off conformity. He spoke against supernatural miracles and about encountering divinity in humanity.

While Emerson hoped that a thoughtful academic debate would follow, instead, he was immediately attacked by the powers of the day in Unitarianism and at Harvard.

He was called a heretic and an atheist… and, he was disinvited from returning to the campus for decades ahead.

But, do you know what the chapel where he delivered that sermon is called today? It is the Emerson Chapel and his quote, “acquaint thyself at first hand with deity” is engraved on the wall.

Emerson and his fellow Transcendentalists were considered radicals. We owe a debt to all our spiritual forebears who opened multiple doorways to truth and to God. We enjoy a Unitarian Universalism that allows for atheists, agnostics, and theists of all stripes to give voice to the uncensored stirrings of their soul.

I hope you find the religious pluralism here to be a liberating invitation to explore your own sense of where you encounter God or what is holy and what that represents in your life. The ability to make sense of the world and our place in it and to articulate what we believe is ultimate, is vital to the spiritual life and to resilience, especially in these times of trouble and trial.

I know this can be challenging and the word God can be an obstacle for some, while an invitation to others, so let me offer an example. My definition of God is “the creative power of love that is able to enter the brokenness and suffering in our lives and our world and moves with us towards healing change.”

It is that which transforms despair into hope, injustice into liberation, and the forces of destruction and isolation into creation and interconnection. It is the spirit of love which is a part of all of us and yet greater than each.

One of the guiding questions born out of this definition is, what is the pathway of healing, and how can I or we move in that direction?

There is a story in the Bible of Jacob encountering an Angel. He wrestles with that Angel all night. It ends up, that angel is God. They wrestle all night and Jacob survives but is left with a limp. When the angel is about to leave, Jacob asks for a blessing. His blessing is a new name: Israel. There is much written about this name for Jacob and what it might mean, including he who wrestles with God, he who sees God, and he who contends with God.

In any event, what resonates with my direct experience in that passage is that so often when we ask questions about God or what is ultimate, we are wrestling with an urgent need to make meaning – whether because of contending with despair, loss, illness, or injustice. We usually do not come away from those times unscathed, but we often come away with insights that serve us to live more fully and deliberately. Whatever that blessing is that you receive during a time of wrestling might hint in the direction of what is ultimate for you – the quality or qualities that sustain and nourish you through hardship and challenge.

These are questions of theodicy. Rabbi Kushner famously put that question in this way: Why do bad things happen to good people?

This kind of question is especially challenging for people who believe God is all-knowing, all-powerful, and everywhere (omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent).

I remember serving as a chaplain in a burn ICU where there was a man who had been working underneath a car when it exploded. He miraculously survived, but as you can imagine he was in the most precarious and painful condition. I would visit with his wife daily. She prayed without ceasing. Her pastor came frequently and prayed with her. As did I. She shared that she believed that God would show up and answer her prayers if she prayed well enough.

As he grew more and more gravely ill, I asked her, “Do you think God works that way?” I knew she found hope in being able to do something, and I do believe prayer is powerful. But, I was worried that if he passed away she would blame herself.

As he moved closer to death, I listened to her struggle with her theology and did my best to create a safe place for her to ask questions and find her own answers.

Our answers will not always be the same to questions about God or theodicy, our encounters with suffering. I know some of you believe that all things happen for a reason, while others of you do not. I don’t believe God chooses and sends good things for some and bad things for others as a matter of testing or strengthening or punishment or for any other reason. However, I do believe that we human beings can move through those challenging experiences towards growth, towards insights, towards more abundant life. The greater the challenge or loss the harder that may be. However, human beings learn, grow, and change through experience – perhaps these creative impulses reflect the divine spark in us.

So, how do you encounter God or the holy. Is she immanent – within you? Are they transcendent – beyond you? Or is he both – within and beyond?

If you believe divinity is in every blade of grass and in everything, you could be called a pantheist, and that understanding of everything as sacred might inform your commitments to the environment.

If you believe that God is a verb and not a noun – then you might find the divine to be revealed in actions of love and compassion. Many who resonate with this understanding identify with what is called process theology.

If you believe that we can say more about what we don’t know about God than what we do know, then you might be following the apophatic tradition. God is wordless, imageless, and filled with wonder.

If you believe God is found on the side of the poor and the oppressed, then you may resonate with liberation theology and our 8^th principle. The question then becomes is this an abstract assertion, or are you engaged in centering people on the margins and in social change.

In the end, what is important is that our beliefs help to nourish, sustain, and inspire us. What matters is that they ground us in love and root us in relationship.

If you don’t believe in god/goddess/a higher power, then does what you have put in place of the God you rejected, hold you in a time of peaks and a time of the valley of despair – can it hold your grief and the possibility of growth – or do you feel you are without the tools to begin to find a way forward.

Meaning making is not the work of one day; it is the journey of a lifetime. It is also one of the gifts we offer one another here in this congregation – through classes, covenant circles, discussion groups, our weekly services, and appointments with ministers and lay ministers for pastoral or theological reflection.

This is a place where the questions and the wrestling are welcome. Whether you believe God exists or is a metaphor or poetry, may our collective movement towards what is just, holy, and true transform our lives and our world for the better.

May it be so!

And, amen.

Topics: The Holy