Above the Tree Line

Rev. Tim Temerson

UU Church of Akron

April 8, 2012

Alleluia indeed! Today is a day for celebrating the earth’s awakening, a day for celebrating the beauty and abundance of spring – a day for rolling away stones of despair and sorrow and opening our lives to life, to love, and to hope.

It is it just me or has this been one of the more unusual springs in recent memory? Several weeks ago, after what was a comparatively mild winter, we seemed to skip right to summer when temperatures soared into the 80s. Flowers that normally don’t make an appearance so early burst forth and blossoms soon appeared on some trees. And my favorite reminder of spring also appeared ahead of schedule – the chorus of birds whose songs greet the morning with such joy and beauty.

Most winters, long before the flowers begin blooming or the birds begin singing, a little voice inside me starts to bemoan the long, cold winter. My chorus of winter complaining usually goes something like this “I’m so tired of the cold, the snow, and the darkness. When will spring arrive, when will all this snow melt, when will the darkness and the cold go away and be replaced by warmth, by color, and by light?”

But this year, I never got the chance to begin my annual rite of winter complaining. Before I knew it, spring was here. Or maybe I should say summer was here. But even as I celebrated spring’s early arrival by wearing a pair of shorts on one of those 80 degree days, that little voice could not keep silent. “This won’t last, it’s a trick, don’t be fooled, and don’t put that winter jacket away just yet.”

And, of course, the early taste of summer didn’t last. Although I wouldn’t exactly say winter has roared back into existence, temperatures eventually cooled off, frost reappeared on my lawn, and there is even talk of the possibility of snow in the weather forecast. I certainly hope that’s one prediction that will not come true!

But as the chill of late winter/early spring returned and my little voice begins to say “I told you so,” I’ve noticed something remarkable about those flowers, trees, and birds. Think for a moment about how confusing the weather must seem to them. Winter very suddenly turns into summer before returning to temperatures more characteristic of early spring or even late winter. I don’t know what the equivalent of a roller coaster is in the life of a flower or a bird, but I’m guessing the last few weeks have felt like a roller coaster, or at least a weather roller coaster, to all of them.

And yet, and here is what is so remarkable, in the midst of all the mixed signals and the confusing temperatures of the last month or so, the birds keep singing and the flowers keep blooming. Of course, the songs may not be quite as loud and the newly emerging blossoms may droop a little bit. But rather than going silent or losing their newfound blossoms, the birds and the flowers persist, they survive, they continue to bloom and sing as if they somehow know that the unpredictable roller coaster ride will come to an end. Not that the flowers or birds have any control over the weather. They don’t. But they seem to know, to have faith, to be filled with the hope that darkness is giving way to light, that cold is giving way to warmth, and that death is giving way to life.

In many ways, I think the birds and the flowers are a lot like those extraordinary vine-like trees growing along the ground above the timber line. In the midst of circumstances that are about as far from life-sustaining as one can imagine, the trees find a way to survive, to thrive, to choose life rather than death.

On a daily basis they are battered by cold, by snow, by winds, and by so many things that make it impossible for them to grow upright and to reach for the sun and the sky. And yet, they don’t give up, they don’t give into despair, they choose instead, as Howard Thurman so beautifully puts it, to “answer life with life.”

Now I must say that I’m not much of a mountain climber so I don’t have first-hand experience with what it feels like to be above a tree line. Some of you undoubtedly have climbed that high and know what it feels like. But whether or not you have ever journeyed so high, I’m guessing that many if not all of us in this room have experienced moments of physical, emotional, and spiritual despair – moments when we feel like those tiny trees struggling to live, moments when we feel as if life is arrayed against us, pushing us down, doing everything in its power to engulf us in a tomb of darkness and despair.

I imagine that’s how life felt for Miriam that morning by the Nile River. She faced what appeared to be an utterly hopeless situation as she watched her baby brother floating down the river towards what was an almost certain death. And her fears probably didn’t diminish very much when she saw the baby picked up by an

Egyptian princess. And yet, in the midst of her fear and her despair, Miriam did not give up. She didn’t flee and she didn’t hide. Instead, she chose hope. She chose love. She chose life. For Miriam, that choice involved a bold act of courage – an act which gave life to her brother, Moses, and which made possible the liberation of her people.

Insert Disciples and Jesus. They chose life and love rather than death and despair.

I want to leave you this morning with the story of another courageous prophet – a prophet whose resilience, dedication, and incredible courage have, much like the prophet Miriam, made it possible for her people to find hope in the face of the most horrible and violent oppression.

That prophet’s name is Aung San Suu Kyi. Aung San Suu Kyi is the Nobel

Peace Prize winning leader of the pro-democracy movement in Burma, a country ruled by one of the world’s most brutal military dictatorships. She has spent of the last 25 years either imprisoned or under house arrest. During that time, Aung Sang

Suu Kyi has endured tremendous hardship, including being separated from her husband, who died of cancer while she was in prison, and her two children, who she was not allowed to see for much of their childhood.

But in spite of all the she has endured, Aung San Suu Kyi never wavered from her commitment to freedom, nonviolence, and democracy. And thanks to her courage and the courage of the Burmese people, the light of freedom and democracy is beginning to break through. Aung Sna Suu Kyi was released from house arrest in 2010 and since then things have begun to change. She has met with world leaders like Secretary of State Hilary Clinton and campaigned across her country. And just last week, in one of the most remarkable testaments to the power of courage and resilience, Aung San Suu Kyi and her pro-democracy party were elected to parliament and allowed to take their seats. Democracy and freedom are, at long last, coming to the Burmese people.

And what made this extraordinary transformation possible? What made it possible for Aung San Suu Kyi and the people of Burma to maintain hope – a hope so strong that it eventually compelled a brutal dictatorship to respect and honor the democratic process? Listen to these beautiful words Aung Sang Suu Kyi uses to explain the power of the pro-democracy movement in Burma. “Free people,” she says, “are the oppressed who go on trying.” “Free people are the oppressed who go on trying.”

And that friends, is the spirit of Easter, the spirit of spring, the spirit of those vine-like branches above the tree line, the spirit of Miriam coming to the aid of the helpless baby Moses, and the spirit of Aung Sang Suu Kyi leading her people to freedom. It is a spirit of great resilience and courage, of extraordinary love and hope, a spirit which will not give up, a spirit which always chooses life over death, hope over despair, love over fear. And it’s a spirit which leads us, like the birds welcoming a spring morning, to keep singing, to keep dreaming, to keep hoping, to keep living.

This Easter Sunday, may you find the resilience and the hope to keep singing and may your days be filled with great courage, with great love, and with beautiful, beautiful music.