Opening Remarks

At this time of year a deep urge to come to terms with change can overtake us. We see darkness descending earlier each evening and the light appearing later each morning. The cold of winter seems almost upon us, although there still is some lingering warmth of summer as the day moves on. All around us the vibrant green of leaves and grasses turns steadily, but quickly, into spectacular autumn hues, surrounding us with beauty more of fantasy than real. We seem caught up in an anxious wonder in which life feels at its summit but slipping downward.

We have experienced all this before. We know that just beyond the warm height of summer is the sudden depth of winter -- the white snow, the crystal ice, the gray cold, the long dark nights in which we, not the sun, must make our own warmth. We know that we are moving through the overlapping margins of two times -- the time of warmth diminishing; the time of cold increasing. We know that for a while we must leave behind our open exuberance and dwell in warmly cocooned resilience if we are to persist to a revivifying spring.

This probably has been so since human eyes first perceived light and dark. Certainly, down through the centuries our ancestors have made the intense and stirring moments of autumn a time to face both the happy and the somber aspects of existence. Ancient Druids saw this time of year as a threshold over which both life and death could touch. As an acknowledgment that life and death still touched, the Christian church created both All Saints Day and All Souls Day to honor the souls in heaven and those souls no longer here but not yet in heaven. Throughout the world and across the centuries, many customs have evolved to express both the relief and the anxiety that descends upon us as autumn hastens toward winter.

At this insistent time, we are urged to do something to acknowledge the losing of light and the growing of darkness, to recognize the constricting of life and the inevitability of death. We are urged to reassure ourselves that, in the grand rhythm of nature, in the coming and going of growing things, all is as it should be and all will be well. For we know that the cold of winter is but the fallowing of the spirit that, from this dormancy, it may spring once again to fuller life. People have ever gathered to share this knowledge which is both the hope and conviction out of which grows the love that binds us toward the future.

Reflections

Coming together to celebrate is a peculiarly human thing to do. Expressing our happiness and joy, sharing our anxieties and concerns with friends, affirming our commitments to our values and to our histories, exploring new ideas in hopes of finding new answers: these are some of the many reasons we congregate. What gives all this its especial power, however, are the memories of other times, other events, and other persons who have influenced our lives for both good and ill. Memories are a large part of why we gather in the first place. Memories go a long way toward securing us in the good we have gained and toward assuaging our anxieties about days that have gone and days that are yet to come. The great holi-(holy)-days are days of remembrance. It is the promise within the memories we hold that gives us hope for that which is to come.

This time of year has always been a particularly fitting time for this expression. Ancient Celtic peoples celebrated their feast of Samhain (SAH-WEEN) on the first of November as an especially appropriate time to acknowledge this great stress. For them the normal order of the universe seemed suspended and the spirits of the dead seemed to be mingling with the spirits of the living. For them the sudden intensities of autumn seemed to cast their spirits in two directions at once. It was as if they stood with one foot held in the sunshine of hope while the other foot was gripped by dissolution and death. They devised elaborate rituals to placate what they took to be the malevolent aspects of the time. Apparently, the modern School of Wicca celebrates November 1 for the same reasons.

However, the leap from appeasing evil spirits to making this ambivalent time in autumn into a more positive occasion was taken by the Roman Catholic Church. Back in the ninth century C.E. All Saints Day, the day on which to honor all saints known and unknown, was moved from May 13 to Nov. 1 in order to co-opt paganistic energies that contradicted church doctrine. And then later All Souls Day was set for Nov. 2. This day was to commemorate the faithful departed who had not quite made it to sainthood yet. It was thought that a day of praying for their souls would help cleanse them of the sins and transgressions for which they had not atoned. The idea seemed to be that if you can’t beat the pagans, then, at least, co-opt them.

The Day of the Dead, as it is practiced in Mexico and other Latin American countries, is part of this same evolution. It combines both Christian devotion and pre-Hispanic traditions and beliefs in a celebration that at once makes offerings to those who have died and is a joyous occasion for those who remain. The important theme in the Day of the Dead appears to be remembering those who have gone before, but in a way that adds joy to the life of those still here. To me the common thread in these and other historic observances of this type is remembering. Placating is, of course, negative. But it is a short step from placating to honoring, when you reflect on the good that has (or might have) come from the departed spirits being placated. And honoring has within it seeds of optimism for the future for valuing the past for the good it has left us implies the present has good it, too, shall leave. When honoring is done with this in mind, it engenders both hope and love.

Thus, it has become an annual occasion here at UUCGT to gather at this time of year to express appreciation for those who have gone before us. It has become a time to share with one another memories that otherwise might remain closed within our own hearts. It has become a time to express collectively our faith in life’s integrity, our hope in life’s destiny, and the love that those who live fully and authentically always display. Doing such things together confirms our own value to one another and strengthens the unseen ties of fellowship that bind us into that one body of friends who expect us to be whom we are.

We have this occasion of remembrance as a congregation. We also have it as a necessary private act of our own selves. It is a strong and compelling feeling to realize that we are still here while others of great importance to us no longer are. It is a strong and sobering realization that what we shared with them continues in this world only if we continue to be inspired and reminded by our memories of them. Thus, it is of great importance and meaning when we pause to focus them in our hearts and minds.

There is a short poem by Robert T. Weston that shows the importance of those now gone and our opportunity and responsibility to carry forward the enterprise of life which we continue to share with them through our memories.

Harbingers of Frost

Autumn, we know,
Is life en route to death.
The asters are but harbingers of frost.

The trees, flaunting their colors at the sky,
In other times will follow where the leaves have fallen.
And so shall we.

Yet other lives will come .
So may we know, accept, embrace,
The mystery of life we hold a while.

Not mourn that it outgrows each separate self,
But still rejoice that we may have our day.
Lift high our colors to the sky! And give,
In our time, fresh glory to the earth.