by Rev. Terry Davis
Delivered at Northwest Unitarian Universalist Congregation
on December 7, 2014
Miracles: surprising and wonderful . . . evoking a sense of awe and wonder . . . seemingly inexplicable and, therefore, possibly possessing a divine dimension.
This is the definition that Glenn offered us today. And, the stories we heard this morning affirmed many of these characteristics:
We heard about modern technological inventions that have completely transformed the way we live, work, play and communicate . . .
We were reminded about those chance encounters or random acts that move us toward a significant someone or life event . . .
I imagine many of us can think of surprising discoveries, events and experiences . . . point to the joy, awe and wonder in them . . . and wonder if they are indeed miracles.
And, while we may eventually have some understanding for how a miracle may have come along, we may not always understand why it came along when it did. Just as Glenn may still be scratching his head in amazement that a seat next to a woman he never met before on an airplane flight led him to a wonderful 30-year marriage, we, too, may scratch our heads when we consider the miracles in our lives and find ourselves unable to explain the why behind them.
For instance, we may not really be able to explain why our temperate earth is the perfect distance away from the scorching and life-giving sun. Or why helpless, completely dependent human toddlers are also so darned smart that they learn up to nine new words each day. Or why scientists figured out how to cure infections, send humans into space, and so on.
We just know that these things did and do occur.
So, if science, mathematics or human logic can explain the how of miracles, how do we account for the why? Is it possible that God, mystery or some other divine source is responsible? Philosopher Immanuel Kant believed that the laws that governed all of the natural world – including human behavior and morality – existed because they were created by a divine Lawgiver.
What do we think of that?
Is it possible for us to conceive that our surprised and amazed reaction to a surprising and amazing miracle is precisely the way any human being might react in the presence of the Holy?
In my sermon to you this morning, I’d like to suggest that there is something that is indeed holy about miracles. When I say “holy” I’m referring to the root meaning of the word, which is understood as something special, something set apart from ordinary experiences.
I believe that when a miracle occurs, we experience something more than those wonderful feelings of surprise, awe and wonder. I believe we also connect to some of the most profound human virtues – especially hope and faith, and forgiveness and love. Whether you believe these virtues reflect the best of the human spirit or are rooted in something greater than ourselves, the holy thing about them is that they have the power to transform us.
Miracles can move us out of one way of seeing and experiencing things into something completely different.
Bona fide miracles are holy events because they can give us hope where we once had none. They can restore our faith in the goodness of people. They move us to forgiveness and reconciliation . . . and they inspire courage.
Bengali poet Rabindranath Tagore, wrote that he doesn’t believe in miracles – he depends on them. Well, I believe in miracles and depend on them. I depend on them to change my understanding of myself and my place in the world. I depend on them to open my mind and spirit to renewal.
Before I explore further this notion that miracles are indeed holy events, I’d like to provide you with some background on how I arrived at my thinking.
First, it’s important to acknowledge that miracles – and miracle workers – can be found in all major world religions. As someone raised in the Christian tradition, the miracles that got star billing were, as you might imagine, those that involved Jesus – the religious figure whose life began with a very big miracle: the immaculate conception of his virgin mother Mary.
Jesus himself was no ordinary baby. Rather, he was someone whose very substance was understood to be miraculously the same as God’s. The Nicene Creed, which many Christians recite as a profession of faith, declared him God from God, Light from Light, True God from True God.
Then there was also Jesus’s ability to perform miracles himself. His first wasn’t anything too profound – he simply changed water into wine at a big wedding he attended, which enabled the wedding hosts to avoid the embarrassment of running out of alcohol.
But, that miracle was just the beginning. Jesus went on to cure blindness, lameness and illness. He brought back persons from the dead. He created banquet feasts out of a few fish and loaves of bread. He walked on water. And, there was, of course, the really Big Miracle . . . which was Jesus’s resurrection from the dead.
As a former Catholic Christian, I learned that miracles didn’t stop with Jesus or other figures in the Bible, but lived on in the lives of the saints. Saints are persons who, in order to be canonized by the Catholic Church, must be credited with two supernatural miracles. Other miracles in the Catholic tradition include mysterious apparitions of the Virgin Mary and unexplainable healings.
As a young Catholic girl, I never questioned the validity of supernatural miracles or miraculous claims. And, yet, I didn’t truly believe that I would ever experience one myself. I didn’t think my life was special enough . . . or perhaps that I was holy enough.
After all, I fought with my sister regularly. I lived in suburban Maryland. I went to public elementary school and watched Sesame Street. Miracles didn’t happen to ordinary, middle-class, American kids like me.
However, I did have what I would call a close encounter with what I believed was a real Catholic miracle when I was about 8 years old. And, though my thoughts about it have changed over the years, there is something that lingers and continues to inform my understanding of miracles to this day.
It involved one of my Italian grandmother’s neighbors and close friends. Her name was Mrs. Watson and she collected rosaries (Catholic prayer beads). One summer, when I was staying with my grandparents in their small Pennsylvania town, my grandmother suggested that we pay a visit to Mrs. Watson. Mrs. Watson lived only a few blocks away from my grandparents’ home.
Her house was small place. It was located right in betweenOur Lady of Mt. Carmel Catholic Church and Carl Adonizio’s Funeral Home. A fitting place for an encounter with a miracle, don’t you think? And, if a rosary collection and living in a house with holy neighbors weren’t enough, my grandmother told me that Mrs. Watson was the mother of my godfather.
Mrs. Watson was starting to sound pretty darn amazing to me. I couldn’t wait to meet her.
When we arrived at her home, Mrs. Watson warmly greeted us at the door. She then took us for a tour of her parlor, living room and dining room. Lined up against the walls and positioned in nearly every nook and cranny were glass cases filled with rosaries of all kinds – glass beaded rosaries, ones made of mother of pearl, black onyx, jade, wood, and even plastic. Some were very elegant, others very ordinary.
I was very impressed.
As I continued to gaze at the rosaries, one display caught my eye. It wasn’t of a rosary, but of a single rosary bead. The bead was dull, black and cracked. Yet, it sat on a prim velvet pillow under a bright light, so I knew there must be something special about it.
Mrs. Watson saw me looking at it. “That little bead,” she said, with a solemn voice, “fell off of the rosary belonging to Our Lady of Fatima. You know the story of that miracle, don’t you?”
Did I? You bet!
Our Lady of Fatima was the name given to the apparition of the Blessed Virgin Mary that was reportedly seen in 1916 by three young shepherd children who lived in Fatima, Portugal. The Lady of Fatima encouraged the children to pray using the rosary and promised them a miracle – which she delivered in October 1917.
Called “The Miracle of the Dancing Sun,” more than 30,000 people –including journalists – assembled in a field in Fatima and are said to have witnessed the sun spinning in circles and emitting extraordinary colors.
It seems that one of the rosaries that the Virgin Mary was holding during one of her appearances to the children fell apart. The bead that Mrs. Watson had in her glass case on that velvet pillow belonged to that rosary. In other words, that dull and cracked black bead was supposedly once held by the Virgin Mary herself.
I remember staring at that bead and feeling all those feelings we just described having when we are in the presence of a miracle – I was amazed and in awe.
I felt excited and joyful. I also remember feeling something else that afternoon in Mrs. Watson’s home, which was crammed with rosaries and mystery – something that has stuck with me to this day and long after I stopped believing that Mrs. Watson’s bead was indeed from a divine source.
And, that’s this: I remember feeling a tremendous sense of hope. That miraculous little black bead gave me hope. It gave me the hope that good things can and do happen to ordinary children . . . and to ordinary people. It reminded me then – and reminds me now – that big and wonderfully life-changing events and things often show up as small and seemingly insignificant events and things.
Regardless of whether Mrs. Watson’s bead was the real thing, its presence in that little house located between the church and the funeral home announced to me that hope and faith are real. Her bead reminds me still that we keep hope and faith alive – just as we keep all of our highest virtues alive – by keeping an open mind and an open heart.
Albert Einstein wrote, “There are only two ways to live your life. One as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is.” Like Einstein suggests, I believe that miracles happen all of the time and are all around us. What makes them holy – that is, special and apart from our other everyday experiences – is not that they come from a divine source (although I’m not ruling out that possibility) but, rather, that they arrive unexpectedly and leave us profoundly changed.
Using this understanding of miracles, I think it may be safe to say that each of us has experienced at least one. Can you think of yours?
The biggest miracle in my life was my recovery from a near-fatal eating disorder.
My recovery changed my life – physically, emotionally and spiritually. It was a holy experience that restored my hope and faith. It transformed – and is still transforming – who I am and how I understand my place in the world.
Over the years, I’ve heard many people who have recovered from eating disorders or other addictions refer to themselves as “walking miracles.” Compared to the healthy, functioning lives they live today, the stories of illness, despair and near-ruin that many recovering addicts tell about their past make it seem as though they’re talking about someone else.
Given the pain and brokenness that exist all around us, it seems that we could use a few miracles. Don’t we want, for example, the miracle of changed minds and hearts that will lead to the end of racism, homophobia, sexism, and other forms of oppression?
As people of faith, aren’t we all seeking ways to miraculously transform fear into love, hate into compassion, and anger into forgiveness? What will it take to heal the painful and ongoing divide between black and white, rich and poor, educated and uneducated? Will it take a miracle?
Yes, I think it will. So where will we find them?
I believe the seeds of these miracles are already planted and growing. They exist in our imaginations, and in our dreams, prayers and aspirations. Every miracle we hope for to make our world a better place is a miracle that’s already on its way. Because just as Mrs. Watson’s miraculous bead pointed me towards hope, I believe as people of a liberal faith, we can help one another move towards the miracle of reconciliation and transformation.
The miracle of seeing things differently – of taking bold action for change – depends upon us and our willingness to believe. I believe it always has. And always will. So, may we have the courage to believe in miracles. May keep believing in their surprising, awesome and wonderful power to change us and save us.
Because our lives depend upon it. May it be so. Amen.