Spiritual teacher Elizabeth Lesser likes to speak of what she calls the "Phoenix Process." It's her provocative and memorable way of naming the transformational journey of life that every culture on earth has spoken of. It's the Hero's Journey, which consists of distinct stages: of departure, of facing monsters, of defeating them and winning the great prize (or failing again and again until you do defeat them), and then of returning home and sharing what you've won and learned with the rest of your community.
It is also the basic story of Homer's Odyssey, in which Odysseus perseveres against the one-eyed Cyclops, the Scylla and Charibdis, the Sirens, Circe, and other monsters and threats. Relying on his wisdom and his wit, he finally returns home and to his family.
Yet again, it is the basic story of the Grail Quest, in which our hero Parzifal is in search of the Cup of Christ, which heals and makes the people who drink of it whole. The Cup actually comes to him when he is a young knight, but he is too immature to really understand what is going on. It's only after many adventures–many years of striving and searching–that, in his elder years, he finally finds the Cup and is wise enough to know that he has.
"All of these stories and more," says Elizabeth Lesser, "[illustrate] the process of surrendering to a time of great difficulty, allowing the pain to break us open and then being reborn—stronger, wiser, kinder."
Just as we heard in the phoenix story shared a moment ago:
When life turns into a nest that is on fire.
And the Whole Nest of life turns to ashes.
Nothing is the same…
To live through this takes courage. When everything is ashes, it feels horrible. It can take so many different forms. The pressures that youth face today; the information overload that exhausts and demoralizes us; the insanity of our American politics with all the lies; the pollution and degradation of our natural world; all of it and much more.
It takes courage to face these ashes of chaos and to believe things can get better.
But this morning, Easter morning, what we are fundamentally doing is reframing our lives. We are all up close to the chaos; but Easter is a time to step back and see a larger picture. Easter is a time to renew our courage and we renew our embrace of the Phoenix Process. Jews remember how freedom in the Promised Land was born out of the ashes of all the years of slavery in Egypt. Christians remember how Christian love was born out of the ashes of Jesus' crucifixion. Unitarian Universalists remember all this with Jews and Christians. And we UUs can also remember the beauty of our distinctive annual Flower Celebration, which reaffirms the inherent worth and dignity of all people, and which was born out of the ashes of the Nazi death camps of World War II.
This is all Phoenix Process.
"Every one of us," says writer Barbara Kingsolver, "is called upon, probably many times, to start a new life. A frightening diagnosis, a marriage, a move, loss of a job or a limb or a loved one, a graduation, bringing a new baby home: it's impossible to think at first how this all will be possible. Eventually, what moves it all forward is the subterranean ebb and flow of being alive among the living."
"In my own worst seasons," she continues, "I've come back from the colorless world of despair by forcing myself to look hard, for a long time, at a single glorious thing: a flame of red geranium outside my bedroom window. And then another: my daughter in a yellow dress. [...] Until I learned to be in love with my life again. Like a stroke victim retraining new parts of the brain to grasp lost skills, I have taught myself joy, over and over again."
Not just Barbara Kingsolver. Every one of us.
Every one.
It is the Phoenix Process.
Did you know that it was the Greek historian Herodotus who, after his travels in Egypt, introduced the legend of the phoenix to Western culture? This was back in the fifth century BCE—that's 2500 years ago. He tells his readers of the many new, fantastic beasts Egypt introduced him to, including the crocodile, the hippopotamus, and the phoenix. "They have," he writes, "another sacred bird called the phoenix, which I have never seen, except in pictures. Indeed, it is a great rarity, even in Egypt."
But now listen carefully to what Herodotus says next: "They tell a story of what this bird does, which does not seem to me to be credible."
Herodotus was not a believer. But he literalized it. Real Phoenixes don't exist. But Phoenixes of the heart and spirit do. In this way, we can indeed be enthusiastic believers. Because we can teach ourselves joy, over and over again. Because we can start a new life out of the ashes of the old. Because we can do that.
Because
people are rebuilding shattered schools and restoring lifeless lakes,
people are knitting reconciliation out of promise and pain,
people are singing to the deathly ill and the newly born,
constitutions are still being written,
and slaves freed, and truces forged.
Because--from out of the ashes, eventually, a tiny worm comes, inching its way slowly forwards; and then that becomes a chick; and then that becomes the fully reborn phoenix in all its glory.
The bird that was here when the world began and is still living today.
Overcoming
Rising
Flying
Flying Home
To One's True Self.
That bird lives here, in your heart, and in mine.
And now, please take the heart sticker that's stapled to your order of service. Take it and put it on your heart, as a reminder. The Phoenix Process. The meaning that Easter can have for everyone, whatever path you are on, whether Christian or not.
Put on Heart stickers
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