A love so big

Dear First Universalist Church,

We are now in the second week of the season Christians call Advent. In pretty language, Advent is a time of hope, anticipation, and preparation for the in-breaking of Love to the here and now. But for me and for many of us, Advent is a time when we admit—honestly and desperately—that we need saving. 

And dear ones, there is so, so much we need saving from. We need saving from governments that have never cared about us, that spike our healthcare costs and cut our food stamps to score political points. We need saving from immigration raids and deportations and detention centers. We need saving from lies about vaccines and transphobia weaponized against children and attacks on queer love. We need to be saved from the ugliness and meanness human beings can inflict on one another—sometimes even right here at church. 

It’s lucky for us, then, that there are saviors all around. At the first Christmas Pageant rehearsal last Sunday one of our youth participants read this line from the script that we repeat every year: 

It is our faith that each child born is one more redeemer. We celebrate the divine spark within each of us, at every age… A redeemer was born on that night long ago, and has been again every day and night since, whenever anyone brings their gifts to share and opens their heart to this world.

One more redeemer. One more savior. One more whistle-blower to slow down ICE. One more neighbor to dig your car out of the snow in the alley. One more toddler sharing their toy for the first time. One of you, one of me, and so many of us. 

My wife and I will be welcoming our baby into this world within the next few weeks. As we prepare for their arrival, we are devastatingly aware of the ways they might come to experience harm or pain in their lifetime. And yet, it is the hope we cling to—that honest, desperate Advent hope—that tells us just maybe, they might also experience friendship, or delight, or peace. Just maybe, they might know a Love so big it cannot be stopped by the feeble force of human failure. 

Just maybe, they might know a Love so big it cannot be stopped by the feeble force of human failure. 

There are all sorts of details that might be of help to you during my parental leave: who to contact, when I will return, and, most importantly, who will keep up the dad joke quotient on staff. You can find that information here (except the dad jokes—that’s your job now). I look towards my leave with the utmost confidence in our incredible staff —especially. Rev. Laura and Claire Tralle, who have expanded staff roles during my leave—the fabulous Children, Youth, and Families Advisory Team, our amazing volunteers and Advisors, and all of you incredible humans to carry and strengthen our ministries while I am away. I can’t wait to see what good trouble you have gotten up to by the time I return.

While I am away, what I hope most is that we all get a little more honest about our need for saving, and a little more confident in our capacity to save each other. That we bet on Love, together, even when Love’s movements in this realm are unpredictable and often unseen. Because it turns out that after all, I do believe the pretty language about Advent: I believe that Love breaks into the here-and-now, this time of year and always, especially when we have counted it out. May Love break into you, too, and may Love fill your heart right up, and may Love save you for the saving of another.