Easter Sunday
Rev. Megan Lloyd Joiner and Jesse Greist

There once was a little swallow who loved to greet the rising sun. As soon as the first hints of light appeared on the horizon, she would offer up her song. One morning, she was sitting on her nest, singing, when she heard someone approaching. It sounded like they were singing too, until the swallow listened closer. She realized that the women walking on the path underneath her nest were not singing, they were crying.

 

The swallow stopped singing. She remembered the events that had happened three days earlier. A whole crowd of people had come at sunset to the cave carrying a man who appeared to be lifeless. He was a man she had seen before, teaching and preaching, playing with children. She had thought he seemed kind and very wise. The people had laid his body in the cave and worked together to cover the entrance with a big stone. Now, these women had returned. If they wanted to see the man, how would they roll the stone away?

 

The swallow was deeply curious, so she flew away from her nest, leaving her eggs, and followed the women to the cave. When she arrived, she was as surprised as they were to see that the stone

in front of the entrance was rolled away. She flew to the top of the stone and perched there, peering inside the cave. The women were there and so was a man, but not the lifeless man who had been carried the day before. This man shown like the sun.

 

He was sitting on the sheets that had covered the other man’s body. He was saying something to the women who had their hands over their mouths. They looked confused and scared but hopeful at the same time. Soon, they ran out of the cave, looked back once, and then ran away down the path.

 

The swallow was confused now too. Where was the body of the teacher? Had they lost him?

What would happen to his kindness? To his teachings? To his wisdom? She decided the best place to contemplate all these things was sitting on her nest keeping her beloved eggs safe and warm. And so, she flew back to her nest only to find with great dismay that it was…empty!

Where could her eggs have gone? Were they lost? Had they been eaten? Had they fallen out?

Had they hatched? She had no idea. She only knew she was heartbroken. And so, as the sun rose higher in the sky, she began to search for her missing eggs.

 

The swallow was very scared, and very worried.  She needed to find her eggs quickly.  Her children were in grave danger without her there to protect them.  She flew in wide circles, past almond trees that she failed to notice had burst into bloom.  White flowers suddenly lined each branch as Spring broke through the shroud of winter.  She flew up, up, up into the sky, hoping to get a better view of the whole area from afar.  She flew so high and so desperately, she didn’t notice that the sun was higher and warmer than it had been in months.

 

It was near the equinox, so the entire Earth was in balance between night and day.  Oh, but that poor swallow was feeling anything but balance in her life right then.  She swooped in low to the ground, past brilliant poppies and bell flowers that had transformed the sandy hills into the colors of sunrise itself, but all she could see were seemingly endless empty spaces where her precious eggs were not.

 

After what seemed like an eternity, the poor distraught swallow returned to the olive tree she’d made her nest in, and alit next to it, crying a mournful song just as the women in the cave had, and feeling the same sense of loss and confusion.  It was only then, through the distorted lens of a tear, that she saw something she’d missed when she’d returned the first time.

 

Small pieces of shell were scattered around the bottom of the nest, mixed in with the mud, vines and fig tree twigs.  As her eyes and brain opened to this incredible clue, she heard a reply to her song.  Two small but strong voices called her attention to the outer branches of the very tree in which she’d built her nest!

 

Their song was a song of life, of gratitude, of connection between children and their bewildered mother. From a place deep within her, a place where the consciousness of ancestors lies, she called back and harmony filled the air. “Oh my precious children!”  she said, hopping up to meet them “You are alive!  You are all right!  I was so worried!”

 

“We are just fine, mom!  We felt the warm sun and knew it was time, so…here we are!”

 

“Well, now that you’re here, there is so much we need to do!  We must fly, and build, and break bread and insects together! C’mon I’m so excited to get started!”

 

“Uh, mom” said the older hatchling, who by our standards was already practically a teenager.

 

“You know we’re only going to be here for, like, a couple of weeks, right?”

 

“What do you mean, my darling?” said his mother, surreptitiously wrapping a wing around both him and his sister.  In her mind, she’d already chosen a college that was close to home and was thinking about space for a new nest on the same branch.

 

“Mom, you of all birds should know that if you love somebody, you gotta set them free!” said the son.

 

Something clicked for her in that moment. Her mind raced back to the women in the cave, to the fear, confusion and hope that had crossed their faces when they discovered that the man they’d loved was gone.  Soon her children would be gone too – this was how the world worked.  This was how the world persisted and thrived.  We hold on to what is happening today, for today’s experiences are tomorrow’s memories.  The man in the cave had gone away, but he left memories with his followers, and they would pass his wise teachings onto many generations yet to come.  The swallow had her children with her today, and would make memories with them, but she too would have to let them go so that they could pass wisdom and life on to many generations of swallows yet to come.

 

(To the Children) When you were outside, you each found two eggs, and you have brought them here.  The orange egg you hold in your hands is the egg of memory.  It is so important to hold on to memories of what we do today, and what we did yesterday.  Your orange egg holds a sweet reminder of today’s celebration, and points you to a story about Jesus of Nazareth, the man in the cave.  It also has a question about this story for you to talk about with your family and friends, here at USNH and beyond.  Keep this orange egg with you, and use it to hold your memories.

 

The purple egg is the wisdom egg.  It is for you to pass on to others, and for them to pass on again.  In it is written words said by Jesus.  They are words that have inspired many people, including Unitarian Universalists, with their call to peace, fairness and love.  At this time, we’d like to ask you to find an adult who is not in your family sitting somewhere in this room and give your purple egg to them, to show how important it is to let some things go, and to pass on wisdom.