Sermons

Preacher: Rev. Margaret A. Beckman

READING, Meditation on the Equinox  Thomas Rhodes
Over our heads, the great wheel of stars shifts,
the autumnal (or spring) equinox manifests itself,
and for one precious instant darkness and light
exist in balanced proportion to one another.

Within our minds the great web of neurons shifts,
new consciousness arises,
and for one precious instant experience and meaning
exist together as revelation and epiphany.
Within our hearts the great rhythm of our lives shifts
a new way of being reveals itself,
and for one precious instant
the nexus of the body and the seat of the soul
truly exist as one.

Let us give thanks for those times in our lives
when all seems in balance.
For those times are rare and precious.

The equinox shall pass, the revelation may be forgotten,
and our actions will not always reflect our true selves.
But through our gratitude we may remember who we are,
reflect on who we may become, and restore the balance which brings equanimity to our lives.

Let us be quiet for a moment, together.
READING No. 540 The Peace of Autumn – Rabindranth Tagore (Singing the Living Tradition)
Today the peace of autumn pervades the world.
In the radiant noon, silent and motionless, the wide stillness rests like a tired bird

Spreading over the deserted fields to all horizons its wings of golden green.
Today the thin thread of the river flows without song, leaving no mark on its sandy banks.

The many distant villages bask in the sun with eyes closed in idle and lanuid slumber.
In the stillness I hear in every blade of grass,

In every speck of dust, in every part of my own body, in the visible and invisible worlds,
In the planets, the sun, and the stars, the joyous dance of the atoms through endless time.
 

Sermon

Each of our four seasons -Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall – has its own gifts. The This now is Autumn. The direction is West. The gift is Introspection.

Our Autumnal Equinox arrived on Thursday morning and we rather decisively realized that the season had changed; summer has left us. One of the things I like about Maine is that the seasons here actually do come in quarters of the year and the weather changes with those quarter turns of the wheel of the year.   I know, it has been said by many that there are only two sasons in Maine – Snow and waiting for snow, but I find that Autumn really does arrive in mid September and Winter in mid December. Ok, may it’s a stretch to say that spring arrives on March 21st, but it does really begin to warm up and the light shifts toward the longer days. And by the Summer Solstice, we are as much in summer as we are likely to be. And all is well. And so it is, that we are now embarking on the shortening of our days and the lengthening of our nights.

Autumn is my favorite season. I was born during this time of year – maybe that has something to do with my affection for the season. Or perhaps, introverts and seekers are comfortable with this time of year. The temperature seems well suited to at least this human being – not too hot and not too cold. It is sweater weather. I was at the Common Ground Country Fair yesterday. I volunteered to help staff the table for the Maine UU State Advocacy Network in one of the social justice tents. Everyone in that huge tent knew that Autumn had arrived. We were all bundled up against the cold and little bit of wind that crept in around the tent flaps. I was quite happy to be wearing three shirts, a fleece jacket, and alpacca wool socks. The sun is still warm, but the morning air is now nippy and brisk. I was equally happy to shed two layers as the day worn on and I left the confines of the big tent for the sun filled open areas.

In addition to the changes in the amount of daylight each day brings and the falling average temperatures, there is a distinctive spirituality of Autumn. The wheel of the circling year turns and so does the spirituality of the season.

The spiritual gifts of Autumn are the ones that encourage us to slow down, bring in the harvest, review the important aspects of life, and live in gratitude.

The wheel of the year turns and we have the Slow Quiet Introspection of Autumn.

The wheel of life turns but once and many of us may find that it is Autumn that we now enjoy the most. Do not let the knowledge that winter is coming – which it surely is – keep us from an intentional slowing down now to notice and savor the gifts of this season. Let go of the the temptations of summer to rush around and pack in as much as possible into our days while the sun is high and bright. Now is the time for a slower pace, muted colors, quieter times, and gathering in all that we nurtured to fruition during summer.

Most of plant and animal life on our planet slows down in the Autumn of the year. Those of you who are growers of gardens or farms know this. The corn is long finished and the naked stalks retreat to the compost pile. The few brave tomatoes still hanging on will not survive the first real frost so we conside the wisdom of gathering them all in and hoping for a ripening on the kitchen shelf. The last things on the vine may be our winter squashes. The pumpkins that will become pies and soups and breads and Jack-O-Lanterns are finishing their ripening process. Although ours are not all orange yet, it may well be that these few remaining pumpkins have in fact finished their process and will remain green with a hint of orange. The wild flowers have given up their riot of color that delighted us for months during summer. Even the sunflowers – which come a bit later for us – have their heads bowed down and await the final dropping of seeds and leaves. I shall not recite the litany of the leaves of our trees as they turn from summer’s green to whatever muted colors they will be this autumn when the earth has been so dry.

Our four legged friends know that it is time to store up their reserves for the coming winter. Their voices are not so much heard. So it is with the ones who fly too. Living as I do with fresh water, we measure the seasons by the patterns of the loons. Still here. Not time to go. Winter is not upon us, but neither is it the full blown growth and play of summer. The young ones are mostly fending for themselves and the adults relax into their fall patterns of rafting and floating and casually feeding. They begin to give up their summer colors and the grays of winter are just barely beginning to be seen.

Any young that will be born this year have been born and they already know that this is the time to watch and learn and feel the changes in their environment that signal them to fly away or make a winter home or retreat to the deeper woods or underground.

We are animals too. And we do what we must to prepare. Some of us bring in the wood. Some of us change out the light summer linens for the flannel sheets. The afghans made by our grandmothers come into use while watching TV or reading. As if on cue, we reach for a cup of tea or a hot chocolate when only a few days ago we might have asked for an iced tea or lemonade. Some of us begin to make the physical transition from summer living to winter living and one day we will not see you at the Post Office or in church here; you will have gone to your winter home. We will see you in the spring, like the migrating birds of the sky – beautiful in your going out and beautiful in your coming back.

Sometimes our post-enlightenment sensibilities tempt us think that we human animals are not necessarily beholden to the cycle of nature that turns through the seasons each year, but we are. Our body knows. Our spirit knows. Our brain just needs to catch up.

Hush, hush, the world is slower now. The high energy of growth and maturity is giving way to decline and dormancy – or the end of a life cycle. Can you see it? Can you hear it? Can you smell it and taste it? Surely you can feel it. The light is different. The air is different. The water is different. The food of our table is different. The pace of life shifts slightly or dramatically toward the slower and quieter time of year.

There is time for reflection, introspection, and gratitude. We are invited to take stock of where we are and what we have. We are invited to find intentional ways to put by what will be needed and to let go of what is no longer necessary. We are invited to celebrate the gifts of life. The harvest is hard work, but oh so rewarding. In spring, we plant. Then we celebrate and pray for the sun and rain that will bring strong growth. In Autumn, we harvest. Then we celebrate and give thanks for all that we have received and all that we have gathered in. Spring is anticipation. Autumn is culmination. There is an intentionality that is required for the process of culmination. Part of that process is a discipline of slowing to a pace where we can notice – really notice – what we have, what we have done, who we are and who we are becoming. What do you have? What must you save? What can you freely share or give away? What will you choose to share or give away as an act of intentional preparation for the next season or as an act of gratitude for the bounty of your harvest?

Here is something. How many of you have ever seen a leaf fall from its tree? I mean actually watch it as it lets go and floats on whatever air current it will and fall to the ground. Such a moment is a gift that come to those who pay attention and notice the smallest things around them. It seems almost a magical moment to watch a single leaf give up its hold on the mighty tree.

Now – here is something more. How many of you have ever heard a leaf fall from its tree? It is indeed a rare and beautiful moment. Time seems suspended. All the human senses are focused on that barely present sound. And then it is gone. But it was there and we heard it and we felt the joy of that shared moment in our heart. The spirituality of Autumn is like falling leaves – something to see, something to hear – when we are quiet enough to notice and pay attention and then, we give thanks.

My Dear Spiritual Companions, here is my wish, my prayer, my hope this day: that each of us will hear a leaf falling; that each of us might enter into our own quiet time of introspection and gratitude for all that is our life and to know when the work of Autumn is finished that each and every one of us is loved and cherished beyond all belief or experience, and, that all is well.

Blessed be. I love you. Amen.