This Science and Spirituality Sunday was organized by the Cambridge Science Festival. We are one of a handful of churches across metropolitan Boston speaking about this topic today. You're probably expecting me to tell you how it all just works and there's nothing to worry about. I wish I could.

Two and a half years ago, when I first came to First Church, I didn't come for God. I didn't come for me, I didn't come for you. I came for Thom. Abby and I had just moved here, and Thom's husband Tim is one of my oldest and dearest friends. So, when Thom invited us to participate in the Christmas Cantata, we said "sure". We came to the Cantata rehearsals, and to a few services to sing with the choir, and we started to kinda like the place. As the Cantata approached, we had a bit of a decision to make; whether to keep coming after it was over, or not. One day I was talking to Tim and said "you know, we really like it here, and might like to keep coming...". "That's great" he said. I replied "well... you know we don't really BELIEVE, right?". He shrugged and said "ahh, we've got lots of people like that".

This book (hold up the Bible) teaches me just everything I need to know about life. This book (hold up ‘The Princess Bride’) teaches me everything I need to know about death. It’s The Princess Bride by William Goldman. First, it taught me that you should never go against a Sicilian when death is on the line. That’s for all you First Churchers born before 1982.

Just last week, 10 days ago on Friday, we when left the church, on Friday, Jesus was dead. Like our mothers and fathers, like our friends who have died, our boyfriend, on Friday, we knew Jesus was not coming back. He was dead to Mary of Magdala, who loved him, and dead to John, whom he loved. He was dead to his mother and father, his students, his brothers and sisters.

My mind’s on summer today. I wonder why, when it’s hardly spring. Could it be, I don’t know, the fast-track to climate change, evidenced by all the strappy dresses in the crowd, when it’s barely April? I fantasize about summer like I never did before I had kids. Maybe it’s because I know that summer promises Sabbath, promises that my children will pester me nonstop to go to the beach, the park, the pool, to leave my work behind, and my worries, to go and put my face in the sun. I hope you have kids, and that they do this for you, give you an excuse to tell your boss it’s time to go home, tell your schoolwork to go hang. If you don’t have kids, I will lend you mine. And then I will go to the beach all by myself.

Dear God, Let us pray—And as the congregation prays—let us praise—you Praise the sticks and stones that break our bones And the words that break our hearts and our spirits praise the sky we can't see and the sky we're scared of praise the torrential rains and the earth-scarring droughts praise the fire we can't light and the fire trucks howling praise the bitter cold when the heat won’t come on and the scorching heat with no air-conditioning praise the car breaking down in the middle of nowhere and the MBTA bus not showing up on time-- or at all praise the monotony of routine and the scary, overwhelming nature of change praise narcolepsy and insomnia Praise the aggravation that comes with too much noise and the awkwardness of silence praise loneliness that strikes when we are left all alone and loneliness that strikes even when we are surrounded by people praise you for the blind—and the ways in which they are able to hear and feel and sense things that the rest of us cannot praise our own blindness and help us to acknowledge that in many ways we are all blind praise our ignorance—because we are all ignorant—about something Praise you for the parents who would give anything to conceive a child And the abandoned child who would give anything to have parents Praise you for the extravagant, excessive spenders And the stingy, scrooge-like tightwads praise every pain of ours that makes us feel the pain of others more sharply so that we can be more empathetic praise the knowing, loving embrace that comes after the pain Praise the hectic, out-of-control busyness— that it may inspire balance in our lives Praise the extreme boredom— that it may inspire us into action Praise the deaths of loved ones--- that make us value those whom we still have so much more And praise the death of your son Jesus Christ—praise the despair, the pain, the indignity, praise it all For it is this which helps us to understand that for every ending, there is a beginning, for every death, there is new life, for every injustice, there are the seeds for change, and when all seems lost and hopeless, there is you.

Invitation to Confession

“Simple shifts” is our theme this Lenten Season. We are exploring the simple things we might change in our lives in order to grow more deeply into our spiritual lives. We’re not going for the grandiose changes in our lives and in the world that may be hard to do, and hard to sustain. We’re looking for small changes that might add up to deep and real spiritual and ethical growth.

This morning, our brother Dick Huber woke up in his bed, on the south-facing wing of Masconomet Nursing Home. He lay awake in his bed, feeling his limbs, his brain sending messages to different parts of his body to see how or whether they would respond. Dick has had Parkinson’s for 9 years. There are good days, and bad days, and there are really bad days. He’s never sure which it’s going to be. Whether or not it’s a good day or a bad day, he’ll go to whatever flavor of worship they’re happening to offer in the community room that day: Protestant hymn-sing, Catholic mass, or the religion that knows no denomination, Bingo. In the afternoon he’ll put himself in the sun, and joke with the nurses, for healing.