Vespers homily
A couple of weeks ago, Reverend David’s sermon explored what Unitarian Universalism is. He spoke the words of Oriah Mountain Dreamer and exclaimed that, in all our diversity, Unitarian Universalism unites us around MORE: More knowledge, more creativity, more clarity, more resilience, more humor and humility…more acceptance, more graciousness. More hope, he said.
One of our very favorite hymns echoes his sentiment: “There is more hope somewhere, there is more hope somewhere. I’m gonna keep on…till I find it…There is more hope somewhere.”
Like Reverend David, I believe that this search for MORE is at the core of what Unitarian Universalism is, and I also believe that the search for more hope is at the core of what unites us. As Emily Dickinson points out—hope is a thing perched inside of us. So, the search for more hope is always a search inside, a search to break free from our fears and anxieties. A search to break free from our worst-case scenarios and our negative assumptions about the intentions of others.
It is also an acceptance of the dangers of this search for more hope. The danger of vulnerability that we accept when we embrace hope over dread, and the threat of pain that accompanies vulnerability. This brings to mind the ancient Greek story of Pandora and her jar, or box for those who aren’t Classics nerds in the room.
I won’t get into the details, but after she was bestowed with many gifts by the gods, Pandora was sent to earth with two final gifts: an ornately beautiful jar which she was warned never to open and the gift of curiosity. As much as she resisted, curiosity got the better of her and eventually she opened the jar, inadvertently unleashing all manner of evils upon humanity: old age, sickness, insanity, greed, famine, vanity, envy, death. As she realized her mistake, Hesiod, the ancient Greek poet, wrote, “Only Hope was left within her unbreakable house, she remained under the lip of the jar, and did not fly away. Before [she could], Pandora replaced the lid of the jar.”
So, hope remains with us, perched in the soul, singing the tune. It never made sense to me why hope was in that jar in the first place when there is no part of the story that tells of a benevolent god who had pity on humanity when she made her addition to the jar. But now, I realize that hope is dangerous. Recent studies showed that folks with permanent conditions, whether it was imprisonment or medical issues, coped more easily than those with hope for change. But this is precisely the reason that I love Unitarian Universalists—and our search for more hope somewhere. For all our diversity, one thing we have in common is that we believe that the work we do is worth it, no matter how insurmountable the odds seem. In doing this spiritual work and acting together for social justice, we open ourselves up to the vulnerability and pain that used to live in that jar next to hope.
Nothing truly extraordinary can happen without taking this kind of risk, and I am so grateful to be a part of a community with the courage to hear the song of the little bird and with the spiritual depth to trust that dedicating our time, gifts and hearts to a vision of a better future is worthwhile. A community that isn’t defeated by the Buddha’s truth that life is suffering.
As we engage in this midweek respite, let us give thanks for that little bird, and let us join in its song to know our own minds and those of others. Amen.
