I saw a made for TV movie once that told the story of two women who had catastrophic medical events. A stereotypically ordinary suburban wife and mother had a massive aneurysm.

So I set out to write a sermon about change this week, in keeping with this month’s theme of The Gift of Transformation—and then I changed my mind. I’m going to talk with you about the moment before us today–a moment that comes into all relationships, at least once and usually many times–the moment of commitment to a shared future.

I am among what must be the last generation of former kids to have learned to read with Dick and Jane. The editions we studied–I was in first grade in 1970–gave Dick, Jane and younger sister, Sally, black friends.ppeared in 1930. …

In our most recent Starting Point class someone asked me how it was I came to be a Unitarian Universalist minister. I gave my usual answer–that having been raised by a schoolteacher mom and a social worker dad, the chances I would end up a helping professional were great, and that having also been raised in the Unitarian Universalist church by those same parents who brought our family to church more Sundays than not, and who were active volunteers at church in a variety of roles, the chances that that profession would be Unitarian Universalist ministry were also great.

I started this month with its Soul Matters theme of The Gift of Liberating Love, three weeks ago, talking about how that gift, which I understand to be the gift of Universalism, is that it releases us from the fear of what might happen to us after death.

When I was hospital chaplain many years ago, I received a phone call one day from someone who begged me, sobbing, to go visit her grandmother- in-law. The caller was terrified that that woman would die without having accepted Jesus Christ as her Lord and Savior, and thus not go to heaven.

Sophie proclaims her Auntie Claus. And really, that is the word not just for his fabulous sister but for Santa Claus, too. So many mysteries–how does that elevator get from a New York City penthouse to the North Pole? What exactly does Auntie do from Halloween to Valentine’s Day? Santa declares he couldn’t be ready for Christmas without her help but we don’t see her in the mailroom. Is she sequestered in package wrapping, where Sophia never quite makes it?

I was first introduced to the Jewish Festival of Lights in Unitarian Universalist Sunday School. We made tiny menorahs out of modeling clay and birthday cake candles, and took home a mimeographed sheet of readings to accompany lighting of the tiny Hanukkah candles.

Two weeks ago, I mentioned Jan Huss, a Bohemian Catholic martyr who was burned at the stake for, among other critiques, saying the Catholic church of his day got it wrong in restricting the cup of communion wine to priests alone, excluding the laity. I tied Huss’s theology of more broadly inclusive access to the elements of the Eucharist to my understanding of the meaning of our Unitarian Universalist symbol of the flaming chalice.

“All kinds of people, round that table.”

And one of them is you. One of them is me. One of them is each of us. So I’m channeling my inner flight attendant this morning, to urge you to Be sure to secure your own [oxygen] mask before assisting others.

There is a bit of spiritual advice that is attributed to St. Francis de Sales: everyone should pray for half an hour a day, unless they are reeaallyy busy. In that case they should pray for an hour a day. It is also said that Martin Luther prayed two hours a day unless he was too busy; then he prayed three hours a day.

Why do you come to church? Why do you connect with Zoom and put up with the frustrating glitches that our dedicated A/V team works hard to prevent and troubleshoot but that occasionally disrupt your experience anyway? Why do you get dressed and leave your house and hunt for parking spaces?

You gotta love Huck’s enthusiastic, single-mindedness of purpose, don’t you? His total body engagement in the pursuit of flowers. He’ll eat anything, but flowers are his favorite. And when flowers are involved Huck can’t resist!

There is a story we tell in our western culture. It’s a story about a story. We tell it in our books for middle grade kids and in our movies and sit-coms. We tell the story that most normal kids go through a stage during which they fantasize (tell a story) about their parents not being their parents.

Every once in a while I’m blown away by how contemporary some snippet of historical Unitarian Universalist thought sounds today. Even words I’ve known for years can surprise me from time to time by how applicable they are to the current moment.

Someone once, during Holy Week, made a not-altogether-complimentary reference to “Lisa and her little hopes.”

I suppose hope is one of the central virtues and perhaps weaknesses not just, as it is sometimes said, of liberal theology in general, but of my own personal theology as well. I don’t ignore the long night that must precede the dawn or the gaping emptinesses that sometimes overtake us when previously whole lives are cracked.