Father's Day sermon

I've got a new sermon that I presented at the Boise Unitarian Universalist Fellowship on Father's Day. I kind of dig it. So I figured I'd post it here and let y'all have a look-see. Here's to our little miracles!

“A WHOLE LOTTA HEAVEN!” by David M. Ward

Have you ever sat down and really thought about death? I mean really contemplated the meaning of your mortality on this Earth and the seemingly limitless possibilities with what comes next? Whether there is a heaven with a bearded and buff God presiding over angels playing harps on puffy clouds, or just a black existential eternity of nothingness? Well, I’ve pondered these very things routinely throughout my life. And, of course, by “routinely” I mean “hardly at all.” If ever. Yeah, probably not ever.

Hey, this is some heavy stuff.

It’s not like I’m afraid to face my own mortality or anything. Far from it! It’s just that important matters in desperate need of my attention always seem to pop up. There are dishes to wash, towels to fold and color coordinate, and our little fish Sammy won’t feed himself. I also have to keep up with my dental visits and taxes. So you see I’m a very busy man, doing very busy things quite busily! I’m sure many of you out there who are not in the least bit afraid of death and dying are recalling your own busyness right now with me. So here’s to us. The busy ones!

Well, about a year and a half ago I finally ran out of, um, busyness when it came to facing these dramatically weighty topics that I am not in the least bit afraid of. And I place the blame entirely upon my son Michael. It’s his fault, and all I can say about the matter is that once again my beautiful little boy has forced me to join the ranks of the grown-ups. More than that, he has introduced me to a way of living and loving that I never would have achieved on my own. Through a series of persistent questions and insights only a preschooler could dream up, little Michael led me down a path which ultimately introduced me to God, Spirit of Life, or the Great Whatever.

It’s quite a fetching tale, actually, and I since it’s Father’s Day and everything, I thought I might share it with you this morning. Ready? Here goes.

It was Christmas time at the Ward household, and I was deeply entrenched in my usual busyness. Michael received a brand new hockey net, you see, and I figured it was my fatherly duty to don my Idaho Steelheads jersey, grab a stick and fire the little plastic puck around the house. Alas, a father’s work is never done.

Anyhow, we had just returned from Grandma’s house, stuffed with turkey and pie, when my wife April called out in despair. I immediately halted my celebratory puck-scoring dance and rushed to her side. I found her kneeling over our beloved cat Smores, who was curled up silently in a ball. I knew right away that something was severely wrong. Poor Smores was extremely sick. We took her to the veterinarian right away, and the news was devastating. Our little kitty was dying from complete kidney failure. We made the tough decision to end her pain immediately, rather than let her suffer.

I will never forget stroking her head for the last time and looking deeply into her eyes that were filled with such pain. It was hard to say goodbye, and I miss her every day.

It wasn’t long before a stark realization hit me - Crap! Smores is dead and we’re going to have to tell Michael! A whole plethora of thoughts flooded my brain. Does he even know what death is? Am I going to have to explain it? Can I? He’s going to ask tons of questions, and he’s going to expect me to be a real Dad and have answers! Where did I put that instruction manual?!

Fortunately April was just as nervous. We are both distinguished graduates of the “I really don’t know what I’m doing, so I kind of wing it as I go,” school of parenting. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? Trying desperately to calm our nerves and appear parental (these kids can smell fear a mile away) April and I sat Michael down for “the talk.”

“Michael, can you come here for a minute? I’ve got something I need to talk to you about,” I began, wishing with all my heart that the next sentence out of my mouth could be, “I’ve found an endless supply of candy canes in the cupboard! Candy canes for everyone!”
Alas it wasn’t to be.

“Michael, you know how Smores was really sick and had to go to the doctor? Well, she died honey. She’s not coming home,” I finished.

“What is died?” he responded with innocent eyes.

Crap!

What followed was an awkward conversation where April and I tried to explain things to a toddler that we didn’t really understand ourselves. The usual run-around about God, and heaven, and souls and whatever else we could recall. I don’t know about Michael, but I left the conversation thoroughly confused!

It was only a day or two later when the little guy began connecting the dots and firing off the very questions that I spent my entire life avoiding.

“Are you going to die Daddy?”

“Are you going to heaven Daddy?”

“What is God like Daddy?”

He just ripped them off while I ducked for cover, attempting to find my “happy place.” I tried my best to answer, knowing full well that I did not have the slightest clue what I truly believed about any of it. That was a rather revealing experience for my soul.

Stage two of Michael’s revelations occurred less than a week later. Michael continued to piece the puzzle together and it wasn’t long before he began quaking with sadness and fear.

“I don’t want you to die Daddy!”

“I don’t want you to die Mommy!”

“I don’t want you to go to heaven!”

His sadness became so intense that April unleashed the fallback of all “winging it” parents when it comes to cheering the little ones up.

“Michael, if you say the word ‘heaven’ one more time I’m going to tickle you!,” she said with full parental authority.

I thought it was pure genius! Each of Michael’s questions about heaven were immediately met with a full-on tickle fest. Unfortunately this genius plan backfired when we discovered that Michael actually likes to be tickled. Scratch that. He loves it! Michael began shrewdly working the word “heaven” into every facet of his vocabulary.

If you said, “Hi Michael,” he would respond with, “Hi heaven!,” followed by uncontrollable giggling.

“Are you hungry?,” would be answered with “Yes I’m hungry … in heaven!” (More giggling).

“That was a good job,” elicited, “Heaven was a good job!”

He really became a master of his craft. I couldn’t help but marvel at his skill. The greatest example of Michael’s verbal cunning occurred during a Saturday shopping excursion at Target. I made the mistake of saying something like, “Man, they’ve got a whole lotta shirts.” Michael seized the opportunity and belted out, “They’ve got A WHOLE LOTTA HEAVEN!,” in front of about 30 fellow shoppers.

Mortified, I did what any “winging it” parent would do in a similar situation. I completely ignored him. I acted as if I had absolutely no idea who this crazy kid was that I was wheeling around in my shopping cart.

Michael misunderstood my brilliant tactical maneuver and thought I had gone temporarily deaf. To solve this predicament, and help his poor Daddy hear him better, Michael began to yell at the top of his lungs.

“THEY’VE GOT A WHOLE LOTTA HEAVEN DADDY!! … HEY DADDY, THEY’VE GOT A WHOLE LOTTA HEAVEN!!!” (Giggles).

Every shopper in Target that afternoon left the store feeling sorry for that poor little boy who obviously has a religious nutcase for a father.

Well, all of that talk about heaven must have had an effect on me. I began developing an active curiosity about heaven and God. Thanks to Michael and his tickle-fests, I no longer cringed when I heard these words spoken aloud. I actually laugh a little to myself whenever I hear them, to tell you the truth. “Heaven” and “God” roll off my tongue now as naturally as words like “football” and “pizza.” For the first time in my life I actually wanted to study these subjects. Discover for myself what all of the fuss is about.

Thus I entered an intense period of study and realization. I raided the religious section at Barnes and Noble, pouring through works by C.S. Lewis, Deepak Chopra, Thich Nhat Hanh, Rick Warren and numerous others. Like a good Unitarian Universalist, I extended my readings to everything from Buddhism, to Christianity, to Religious Science, to Paganism. I was introduced to countless schools of thought. Some, like Militant Christianity, left me scared and saddened.

But I was surprised and overjoyed how the vast majority of these great religious thinkers were all basically touting the same message – mainly that God, or Spirit of Life, or whatever you want to call it, is operating through love and compassion. As the bible so eloquently states, “God is love.”

I fully understand there are plenty of religious texts that vehemently disagree with this interpretation, but I was amazed at the similar messages leaders like Mother Teresa and Ernest Holmes spent their lives preaching. Mainly that the road to God, or Inner Light, is paved with universal love. Love for yourself. Love for your fellow man. Love for all that is. That sounds quite a bit like our Unitarian Universalist principles of respecting “the inherent worth and dignity of every person,” and “respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part,” doesn’t it?

This is a message that I can fully embrace. It speaks to me in a powerful way that my former non-religious self never quite experienced. For those of you uncomfortable with the term “God,” just substitute the word “Love.” To me they are one and the same.

To give you more of an idea about where I’m coming from, I’d like to draw upon an unexpected, yet powerful source of inspiration I discovered a few years ago. Those who know me well are aware that I am a huge movie buff. People may not be aware, however, that I harbor an innocent crush on actress Drew Barrymore. So naturally I found myself watching the movie “Riding in Cars with Boys” shortly after it hit the theaters. There is a scene in this movie that has always stuck with me. In this scene Barrymore’s character, a young single mother, is questioning her “winging it” parenting skills and her love for her son. In response, actress Brittany Murphy, who plays Barrymore’s best friend in the movie, unleashes a monologue for the ages.

“I think sometimes we love people so much that we have to be numb to it,” her character begins. “Because if we actually felt how much we really love them, it would kill us.”

I’ve always marveled at the power and the truth behind that statement. If you will indulge me for a moment, I would like to demonstrate just how true it really is. I’d like us all to close our eyes now, and for one brief minute, drop all the barriers we’ve built around our hearts. Let the walls drift away like melting snow. For our parents in the congregation, I ask that you really let yourself feel how much you love your children. For our non-parents, think perhaps of your spouse, or sibling, or your own parents. Perhaps a beloved pet, or a life-long friend. Whatever you love so much in this world that it kills you, let yourself truly embrace that love. Wrap yourself in its warmth … When you are ready, go ahead and open your eyes.

That, in my humble opinion, is just a brief glimpse into the Holy, the Spirit of Life, the Great Whatever.

Pretty intense, right? I’ve just finished reading a series of fantasy novels by author Christopher Paolini. You may have heard of his fabulous “Inheritance Cycle,” with books like “Eragon” and “Eldest.” In these novels, magicians are taught to place protective barriers around people’s hearts and minds. I would argue that we do not need magicians to perform this task. We do it ourselves all of the time.

But what if we didn’t?

What if we dropped the barriers and took that pure love we have just experienced out into the world with us every day? What if we truly brought forth the “light of God”? I believe love in its purest form is the single most powerful force in the universe. From its vast well pours compassion, which leads to unity, which ushers forth a world where our Unitarian Universalist principles are celebrated and championed. This is the world I want for my son, and for all people. This is a definition of God that brings me peace, lifting me toward my best self.

So there you have it. A harrowing tale of discovery fueled by the unorthodox wisdom of a brown-eyed angel named Michael. I still don’t sit and ponder the subject of death, but I have discovered a quote from UU minister Dr. Forrest Church that sums up my beliefs quite nicely. He states, “Death is the ultimate mystery. But there is a way to counter this fear. We can live in such a way that our lives will prove to be worth dying for.” I say amen to the great reverend!

And I no longer cringe when I hear the word God. How can I? I see a higher power at work every time I look into Michael’s eyes. Every time he wraps his arms around me and says the words every father simply can’t get enough of - “I love you Daddy.” If that’s not A WHOLE LOTTA HEAVEN, then I don’t know what is.

Please join me in seeking out and embracing the grace and wisdom of our little ones. They are truly a gift from the Holy, wouldn’t you agree? As we close this morning, I’d like to offer a Father’s Day blessing for big kids and little kids alike. I believe it was Bob Dylan, or “Saint Bob,” who wrote:
May God bless and keep you always,
May your wishes all come true.
May you always do for others,
And let others do for you.
May you build a ladder to the stars,
And climb on every rung,
May you stay forever young.

Amen. Shalom. Salam. Blessed be.