“Out of the depths I cry: Who will hear my voice? Out of the pain I cry: Who will make space for my living and my dying? Out of the years I cry: Who will remember? Who will remember? My soul awaits: More than those who watch for the morning. More than those who watch for the morning.” 
- Marjorie Bowens-Wheatly [https://sistersouurce.org/marjorie-bowens-wheatley/ ]

In Lieu of Flowers, by Shawna Lemay
(Please visit the author’s website to read more, view her photography or purchase her works: https://www.shawnalemay.net/ )
Although I love flowers very much, I won’t see them when I’m gone. So in lieu of flowers:  Buy a book of poetry written by someone still alive, sit outside with a cup of tea, a glass of wine, and read it out loud, by yourself or to someone, or silently.
Spend some time with a single flower. A rose maybe. Smell it, touch the petals.
Really look at it. 
Drink a nice bottle of wine with someone you love.
Or, Champagne. And think of what John Maynard Keynes said, “My only regret in life is that I did not drink more Champagne.” Or what Dom Perignon said when he first tasted the stuff: “Come quickly! I am tasting stars!” 
Take out a paint set and lay down some colours.
Watch birds. Common sparrows are fine. Pigeons, too. Geese are nice. Robins.
In lieu of flowers, walk in the trees and watch the light fall into it. Eat an apple, a really nice big one. I hope it’s crisp. 
Have a long soak in the bathtub with candles, maybe some rose petals.
Sit on the front stoop and (really) watch the clouds. Have a dish of strawberry ice cream in my name. 
If it’s winter, have a cup of hot chocolate outside for me. If it’s summer, a big glass of ice water. 
If it’s autumn, collect some leaves and press them in a book you love. I’d like that. 
Sit and look out a window and write down what you see. Write some other things down. 
In lieu of flowers, 
I would wish for you to flower. 
I would wish for you to blossom, to open, to be beautiful.

[OPENING HYMN: Here, for your peace and pleasure, is a gorgeous presentation of Shall We Gather By The River, by VOCES8 and Ringmasters in a new arrangement by Blake Morgan at the VOCES8 Centre in London: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FmM1ATJgQE4 ]

Learning From Trees, by Grace Butcher
If we could,
like the trees,
practice dying,
do it every year
just as something we do--
like going on vacation
or celebrating birthdays,
it would become
as easy a part of us
as our hair or clothing.
Someone would show us how
to lie down and fade away
as if in deepest meditation,
and we would learn
about the fine dark emptiness,
both knowing it and not knowing it,
and coming back would be irrelevant.
Whatever it is the trees know
when they stand undone,
surprisingly intricate,
we need to know also
so we can allow
that last thing
to happen to us
as if it were only
any ordinary thing,
leaves and lives
falling away,
the spirit, complex,
waiting in the fine darkness
to learn which way
it will go.
[Information on poet, athlete and all around amazing human being, who has become my friend, Grace Butcher: https://www.geaugamapleleaf.com/news/literary-trailblazer-continues-labor-of-love/ You can visit this blog for information on Grace’s amazing early career as an award winning runner: https://onceuponatimeinthevest.blogspot.com/search?q=grace+butcher ]

PRAYER ~ [Adapted from a prayer from the website of WorldRelief.org, an organization that supports empowering local churches to join forces on common issues plaguing humanity around the globe.  Visit their website to learn about their mission, values and works here: https://worldrelief.org/about/ ]
 
My prayer today is adapted from from worldrelief.org’s Prayer for Israel and Gaza. The sermon I offer you is NOT on this topic, though in some ways it is, of course, related.  I would be remiss, however, not to address the heaviness we are all feeling around atrocities taking place in the Middle East.  I am mindful as well, that smaller, less publicized traumas are happening worldwide, and so, I hope this prayer may address suffering in all it’s corners.
 
Lord, You said “Peace, be still,” and the storm was stilled. 
We confess that at times, we feel overwhelmed by the storm. But today, we lift our eyes, our hearts, our plea, oh Maker of Heaven and Earth. And we ask with all our might … let peace fill Israel and Gaza – and all places on Earth where strife resides.
We lift up our words, Oh Great Mystery;
Hear us.
Let violence cease in all regions. Let there be no more bloodshed. Our hearts break – and therefore we ask your Love - for those tortured, raped, killed and those left behind — for the orphaned child, the injured elderly, those abducted and families desperate for safety, individual souls abandoned or in harm’s way.
Spirit of Life, speak into all shadows where crisis is heated. 
We lift our prayers up, Oh, Love;
Hear us.
We pray for those who have lost loved ones. Let peace and grace wash over and hold them as they mourn. May safety be given to all who are broken, hurting, grieving today and each day forward. Let the lost be reunited with their loved ones, the wounded be tended to, the needy be nourished, the frightened brought to safety, those who hunger and thirst – may they know nourishment and refreshment.
We lift up our prayers, Cosmos;
Hear us.
We pray for peace and reconciliation to overcome conflict. We ask the bestowment of wisdom and discernment to our global leaders and those in positions of power; open the eyes and hearts of all people. Help us all to understand conflict not as reason for hatred and conquest, but rather as an invitation to create a way not yet found: Bless those that would do harm with new vision, new purpose and new will to do good, that their aim may be as ours: to diminish suffering; to promote healing, community building, brother/sister-ly good will; bless us all, oh Oneness, with
true love for our neighbors.
Help us to be bold advocates and agents of peace in our own communities, that we might use our voices and actions to make new ways for peace to grow .
We lift our prayers up, Oh Great Mother Nature and All Humanity;
Hear us.
We pray for people scattered around the globe whose friends and family members have been caught in crisis.
Sustain them and show them a safe way home. Help us to give aid and express pure love to those affected by crisis in our own homes, communities, churches, workplaces and beyond.   Let each of us be agents of Love in whatever way we are able, here, now, today, and every day going forward, and help us to see how we might best serve the lightening and lessening of all suffering in this world.
We lift our prayers up;
Lord
Hear us.
Amen. So Mote It Be. May It Be So.

MEDITATION HYMN ~ [#101: Abide With Me - For the adventurous, here is an interesting rendition of our hymn Abide With Me from Rev. Christopher Watkins Lamb and Amber Lamb of Foothills Unitarian Church:
https://youtu.be/D2WOEsd3AFI?si=gpQrWUc5grFDd3m1


READING ~ [Nothing Gold Can Stay, by Robert Frost ]
 
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Good Morning Friends.

I am going to talk to you today about death; and I hope I will do so gently.
 
It is not quite Halloween yet (in spite of my seasonal attire), but we are most certainly in that time of year when, as some of my Pagan friends say “the veil between the worlds grows thinner” and if we are open, we may become aware of things mysterious – the most mysterious of which, of course, is death itself.  Even if you are not of the mystical ilk, we (in the Northern Hemisphere) are in that season of darkening days, of falling leaves, the shutting down and battening of hatches and the closing of doors - - and the magic of our preparation for winter goes into full swing.  We are losing the light of longer days, losing the shade and shelter that trees had offered us, baring our bones to this time of starkness, and chilly transformation. . . These are times of endings and snuggling-in, when – as we turn inward in the wistfulness of autumn’s nostalgia - our memories of those we have lost may be less repressable, and even unsung thoughts of our own demise may tug the edges of our more conscious moments.
 
Memento Mori - The Latin phrase translates as "remember death" or "remember you must die" or, more formally, “thou shalt remember to die” - the philosophical reminder of death's inevitability.
 
The concept has its roots in the philosophers of classical antiquity and early Christianity. 
Beginning in medieval times, it appeared in funerary art and architecture in Europe,
Represented by images of a skull, bones, coffin, wilting flowers or hourglass – all signifying
the impermanence of life.  An idea studied deeply in Buddhist traditions, many of us may be less familiar with the concept’s European and Biblical counterpart.

• Lucius Annaeus Seneca the Younger, the ancient Roman philosopher, reminded – urged - us to meditate on death.
• Marcus Auraleus invited us to regularly consider how ephemeral all mortal things are.
• In Psalm 90, Moses prays that we would learn "to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom".
• It is said that 2nd-century Christian writer Tertullian claimed that during a triumphant military procession, a victorious general had a person standing behind him, holding a crown over his head and whispering in Latin, to keep him humble, "Look after yourself. Remember you are a man. Remember you will die."

 
Memento Mori.
 
. . . but those things were said a long time ago; Might it be that remembering death has something to offer us in modern life? Could it be that befriending death, as the title of this sermon questions, might offer humanity something brighter than the gloom we currently attribute to it?  I think it might.
 
We live in a culture that embraces and upholds a very different idea about death; for the most part, we tend to see it as something not to remember, but rather to do our best to FORGET.  We live in, as one of my favorite death pundits, Stephen Jenkinson, calls it, a “Death Phobic” (and, for another sermon, “Grief Illiterate”) society.  Our fear of death is so prevalent that there is a clinical name for it:
 
Thanatophobia (than-uh-tuh-fow-bia), an intense fear of death or the dying process.  Thanatophobia is an anxiety disorder that is seen in people of all ages, races, and genders, whether actively facing death or not, and (according to The Cleveland Clinic[i]) potentially can “affect or even significantly disrupt every aspect of a person’s life”. 
 
Interesting studies have shown that most people in the USA do fear death, but two groups tend to fear it less… In case you are curious, these are: The highly religious or devoutly spiritual and – Atheists. These are also the two groups who are most certain they know what happens when we die.  Perhaps it is not death itself we fear, but rather “the unknown”.
 
Maybe not surprisingly, studies have also shown that people’s fear of death decreases after they enter hospice care[ii]. This may happen because, in hospice, people finally get the tools, space, and emotional/spiritual support they need to come to terms with death – and/or the fact that clarification around the process of dying renders it less mysterious.
 
(As an aside, Hospice is not – as many people misunderstand it to be - where one goes to die, Hospice is in fact where one goes to find a better quality of LIFE when one knows they may have limited time. I personally think everyone should have what hospice patients get to have, our whole lives, not just when we are dying. But you can get me talking about this another time!)
***
Before I go further, I want to acknowledge that amidst the current events of the day, and in terms of the mourning many of us are experiencing this very month, week or hour – either for the state of our world, or for our own personal losses – our experiences of death, loss, and grief are very REAL.  The pain we are feeling is RAW. And in no way today do I dismiss this very tangible reality.  Our global grief right now is most certainly immense. And please know that I lift up each of your personal griefs as well with utmost care and respect.
***
As many of you know, I work in hospice, which means I have ample opportunity to think about, discuss, assist with and bear witness to the process of facing, walking towards and finally succumbing to death, every day.  I share with my patients and families and hospice team the fears, pain, seeking and bestowing of forgiveness, the tears and the laughter, the joys and incredible spiritual lightness, the struggles and aloneness, the open curiosity, mending of hearts and homes, seemingly unexplainable mystical experiences and all the many other aspects of this universally true thing:
WE WILL ALL DIE.
 
Most of us in the western world, are taught, either directly or indirectly, that death is a fearsome and terrible thing. We learn it is a thing to side-step speaking of, a thing to hush and be silent about - even in our worst grief when our hearts and bodies need to wail. The fact that every being who inhabits a living body will eventually experience the death of that body is somehow a fact we are driven from within and without to avoid.
 
We are in so many ways silenced around the topic.  Medical professionals support us when we say we would rather not tell our loved one the truth about their diagnosis. We keep children from funerals to “protect” them. Long time partners who have communicated well and deeply – may allow fear of the “unspeakable” to isolate them from one another as death nears. Advertising invites us to fight “the inevitable” with pills and creams and cars and fashion and gadgets to distract us.  Youth is lifted up and elderhood’s position as a place of honor has been all but forgotten as we cannot bear to look at what aging implies.  We are so afraid of death that we have created “nicer” terms for it: “passed away” “at rest” “lost their life” “left this life” “entered eternal rest” they were “called home”. . . In our plans to be away from home, we say “my will is in the drawer upstairs, incase “something” happens to me. . .  “something”?? . . . While each of these “softer” terms has beauty to it, the fact that we use them does represent our raw fear and belief in the terribleness of the actual fact. Death. Someone has died. We might die. We do die. 
 
Many of us have experienced the death of a loved one, and the awkwardness of those who love us attempting to offer condolences while skirting around their discomfort with death, loss and grief.  I recall with such joy the moment when my mother, only five days from her own impending death, was visited by one of her neighbors, who had come to say goodbye but was struggling to find a way to share. My mother, in her characteristically sometimes-sailor-mouthed manner, interrupted the moment by saying “Let’s cut the crap, Bessie – we both know I’m dying! I love you and you’ve been a wonderful friend. I will miss you!” to which Bessie responded with a big sigh of relief, and, with tears of joyful love and also sadness running down both women’s cheeks, Bessie openly and easily shared her love in response.  The honesty of the tearful laughter in the room was palpable to all who entered.
 
I cannot tell you the number of times I have witnessed the “Death” word, finally spoken out loud where it had been hovering, has opened hearts, made space for the mending of rifts, and allowed the dissipation of a lifetime’s worth of tension.  The emergence of truth into a room, in my experience, has never – literally never, so far – been a bad or harmful thing, if done in good faith, with skill and with love.  Even in the presence of dementia patients, even with children.  Love and open Truth, when people are ready for it, in my experience, are the greatest contributors to what we in hospice often refer to as “a good death” – that is, (along with, if needed, a patient’s chosen and appropriate pain management) a death in which a person comes to terms with themselves, harvests meaning from a life lived, connects with loved ones authentically, mends rifts, feels seen and acknowledged - and - truly ready, when the time comes, to “let go” – to die.
 
***
 
But contributing to “a good death” or ease and healing for the dying and our families (notice I said “our” families - Memento Mori, friends, We are ALL “The Dying”) is not the only good reason to befriend death in general, and our own death in particular.  It turns out, that this very intimately personal task might contribute in a big way to a major human shift in our interaction with others, potentially I believe, even globally.
 
Let me share with you what was to me a rather surprising study outcome.
 
Mortality Salience is psychology’s term for the awareness by individuals that their death is inevitable. The term derives from Terror Management Theory[iii], which proposes that mortality salience causes existential anxiety that an individual may subconsciously buffer by boosting or attaching to their cultural worldview, often acted out in the form of aggression towards those who hold other views or appear unlike ourselves.
 
The interesting hypothesis - that awareness of our own mortality motivates aggression against
worldview-threatening others - was tested in a number of studies. In one study[iv], the experimenters induced participants to write about either their own death - or - a control topic, presented them with a target who was either in agreement with or disagreement with their political views.  Participants were then given an opportunity to choose the amount of hot sauce the target would have to consume. The outcome? Regardless of their political stance, the participants who were made aware of their mortality before their hot-sauce-giving opportunity allocated particularly large amounts of the stuff to the target that threatened their world view.
 
In an experiment using municipal judges as test subjects[v], making bond recommendations for moral issues such as prostitution, findings showed that judges exposed to questions, and thus thoughts of, their own mortality, before imposing bonds for accused prostitution, made significantly stricter judgements; control groups set bonds at or around $50 (the lowest fine option) - - while those subjected to mortality awareness set bonds at or around $450 (the highest fine option.)
 
On a side note, these same as well as outside studies showed that among other things, Mortality Salience affected people’s preference for charismatic leaders.  Rev up people’s fears of death, shine charismatically, and the fearful are likely choose you.
 
In 2020, Abdu Murray wrote an article titled: Canceled: How the Eastern Honor-Shame Mentality Traveled West[vi]in which he says “It was once the case that differing opinions—including ones that challenge culturally approved mores—were debated with facts and sound argumentation. Now when a person does or says something that runs afoul of current cultural preferences, we cancel that person. We shut her down with names, epithets, and ad-hominem attacks. If she’s a musician, we call for boycotts of her music. If she’s an athlete, we delight in burning her jersey and posting the bonfire on social media. We now hoist the socially guilty onto a pike for all to see as they writhe, justly deserving what they get for having offended the collective.”
 
Think of what we – worldwide – have been faced to consider every day for four years as the COVID pandemic swept the globe.  Along with some other causes of course, could this ongoing, global death-consciousness have contributed to the rapid growth of the current plague of intercontinental cancel-culture and horrific “othering” so many now feel justified in perpetrating? It could fairly be said that we are living in a sort of Global death-fear related PTSD, with no therapist in sight.
 
If indeed untended fear of death is motivating our judgmental, all-or-none behavior towards one another,  could it be that by befriending death, by becoming comfortable knowing it is by our side, by openly sharing our thoughts and fears, that we may be less swayable – by media, political leaders, our own demons – that we might in fact more peacefully access clear thinking, and most importantly, become a kinder species?
 
Consider for a moment, personally, the question: how much more apt to dismiss someone am I when my values and beliefs are being challenged, as opposed to when, for example, I am discussing things with those with whom I agree?  Could it be that the questioning - and ultimate potential for a decimation of our values by another is triggering a creeping – though maybe unconscious - sense of our own mortality?  Could the moment we find ourselves suddenly less tolerant, attacking with venom or walking away, one in which we find ourselves more prepared to put another down or allow a sense of “us and them” to grow between us – be that very moment in which death salience has triggered our fears? Have you ever come away from a debate and found yourself thinking “why on earth did I say that” or get that angry with her? Could unconscious fear of death be the triggering culprit?
 
So far, I have not come across any studies on people who have become comfortable with their own death, and whether this decreases their inclination to judge, or “other” - or feed more hot-sauce to - people they perceive to be unlike themselves.  However, I can say that those I work with who are actively integrating a comfort in the presence and awareness of death into their living moments (even if up to very late in life they had wittingly or unwittingly been in fear and denial) I witness these people become, almost simultaneously with their accepted awareness of death, more openhearted toward others. Moments have more preciousness to them.  People they have held grudges with are often forgiven. Family strife is more gracefully released, self-hatred, long-struggled-with, begins to dissolve, and even views on politics/race/religion may change dramatically, as awareness and acceptance of death as the mysterious equalizer – a fate - or gift - we all share – becomes friend, or at least a gateway to be curious about. 
 
Nearing his death, the family (of a man who had been neither spiritual nor particularly expressive of love during his life), shared with me “but who IS he? He was never so loving in life as he has suddenly become!”  I have found that it is not uncommon, that as a person allows the so-called “dark” truth of death into the light of consciousness, the incredible truth that is LOVE is also revealed to them.
 
I myself recently had an experience I would not wish on anyone, a health scare in which I was told both by the attending physician at urgent care, and the ambulance medic who rushed me to the hospital, that I was “at risk of immediate death” by aortic aneurism. The medic shared  “the good news is if this thing blows, death will be immediate, there is no saving you but it will happen so fast you won’t even know it”… lack of bedside manners aside, this horror became one of the greatest gifts I have had to date: Over the next 7 hours between tests (and before one of my oldest and dearest friends arrived to accompany me), I had some of the weirdest moments alone with myself to ponder my understanding of living and dying. What I learned was that even when my body was shaking, generating adrenaline in it’s given circumstances, my larger self was able to bear witness from a strangely calm position: I realized that I felt personally fulfilled, reasonably well logistically prepared, in functionally good standing with the people I care about, was internally harmonious with my beliefs about death itself, and thus (even if my body should have to go through some trauma getting there), I found myself not afraid to die. (FYI, The diagnosis turned out to be a mistake – and I am fine.)  But being faced with the likelihood of “immediate death” showed me something about myself that has freed every aspect of my experience of living. I find myself less emotionally triggerable, less inclined to complain about anything, and generally more alive - - Befriending death, in my case, has made me that much more open to, and present in LIFE.
 
It is not easy to discuss this thing called Death. We as a society have not made space for it, and as well, it holds within and around it at least a few other things we greatly fear and hope to avoid:  Pain, suffering, loss – and grief.  None of these are easy adversaries (and certainly each worth a whole sermon in their own right). . .
 
But friends, if we might just begin the dialogue – at first perhaps silently with ourselves, then, as courage flows – because it will - share with one another; open the dark door that society so wants us to keep tightly shut – speak what scares you, what worries you, what mystifies you, what makes you curious. . . and even what might bring you joy. Maybe we each can move towards becoming both that beacon of inner peace we all seek so dearly, and that same peace which makes us wider, wiser, and most importantly, kinder to ourselves and our fellow Earthlings.
 
Imagine with me a world of human beings in which we have all have befriended death; in which we are not driven by fear of it; and do not fear the things we associate with it – aging, loss of power, loss of possession, loss of love; Yes, we MOURN these losses, we will grieve; but these too, are made natural, a part of the journey of healing and being human, in a world in which we are at peace within ourselves - - and thus with – and for - one another. 
 
Whether for yourself or for a better, more tolerant world, perhaps this year it might be the wild winds and crackling leaves of this dear season of shedding - Autumn Herself - who teaches us that the falling of things is yes, an end, and also a perfectly natural transformation – and that baring our bones is a part of the way of things.
 

Whatever your way in may be, when you feel ready; Memento Mori - Remember Death.

 * * *

CLOSING HYMN ~ Listen to this inspiring NYC Virtual Choir Orchestra perform How Can I Keel From Singing, kindness of Northwoods UU Church, NYC: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wMA7mFWAz-k

CLOSING WORDS ~
 
In these closing words today, and as you consider Memento Mori and as we sit together in our precious moments, made more precious by our living awareness that none of us knows how much time here we are gifted, I am going to read a blessing prayer, once again by wisdom keeper Stephen Jenkinson. I have read this prayer before, and I will read it again, for it is a true wish I hold for us all. In it’s reading, I recall to us that we do not stand alone. Indeed, we stand upon the backs of literally thousands of ancestors – our own and those of all who were and are contributors to where we are today. We are woven together like an Earth-blanket, the One Family we are. I read this prayer for each of you, and for all upon our Earth who may be in need of it today: