Tuesday, April 14, 2026

How it Began

The only clue about the beginnings of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Cortland is this one line: “Universalist circuit rider Nathaniel Stacy held regular meetings in the area starting around 1807.” Who was this Nathaniel Stacy?

“He was …of diminutive stature, being five feet and one inch in height, and weighing but ninety-five pounds. ... He was active in movement and rapid and nervous in speech, but at the same time of a very calm and even-tempered disposition. He lived his religion.“[i]

He was born in Gloucester Mass, where his dad was a Fisherman, and where his family heard the famous John Murray preach Universalism. Now at this time Universalism was a pretty controversial idea, and you risked “bitter censures, denunciates and condemnations” as Stacy would later recall. He was the 3rd of 7 children, and he didn’t have much education, because he needed to help his dad on the farm. He tried apprenticing as a blacksmith, he tried being a store clerk. He took a job as apprentice to a clockmaker in part because it was near the church where Hosea Ballou was preaching. One day, says biographer Mark Harris “Ballou came into the shop and asked him, “Brother Stacy, what are you tinkering here for?” He had not been able to settle on a career, Ballou told Stacy, because preaching was his true business. Until he began to serve as a minister he would not be happy. Ballou offered to become his teacher and, in October, 1802, took Stacy into his home and study.”[ii]
In 1803, in his first year of ministry, Stacy made the long journey on horseback to the National Convection of Universalists, and was amazed to be in a room with many of his heroes, and to hear them preach. (Being a Universalist preacher in those days could be a lonely business.)

Now here’s the fun bit -- at this convention Stacy was one of 4 new ministers to receive his fellowship as a minister, (that’s like the official stamp approval from the association) and who received fellowship at the exact same time? Noah Murray! Stacy remembers “Mr. Murray was a convert from the Baptists, with whom he preached a number of years; but, many years before this, he had renounced the doctrine of Partialism, (partialism is what we called people who believed only some people would be saved) and had been proclaiming the doctrine of Impartial Grace; (I love that way of explaining Universalism - God’s grace is impartial)” His residence was in the town of Athens, Tioga Point, Pa.” [iii]

A few years later, in 1807, Stacy traveled all around Sullivan, Madison and Cortland counties, where there were no other Universalist preachers. He writes “Homer was then a newly settled country. There was but one solitary house where the flourishing village of Cortland now stands and that was the residence of a friend of ours by the name of Hubbard, ... On my first visit to Homer, I delivered one discourse at the old village, and another at Port Watson. ... I subsequently visited Homer several times in the course of the summer and fall; and organized a society in the place which in after years I regularly supplied for a considerable space of time. [Memoir p. 190]

His obituary in the Universalist Companion of 1869 says “ Father Stacy was one of the most indefatigable missionaries we ever had; and the history of his labors for forty years is in good part the history of Universalism in New York, Pennsylvania and Michigan. ... How cheerful was his temper, how kind his heart, how tranquil his philosophy and how unfaltering his faith, all know who had the pleasure of his acquaintance.”

Translation- he worked hard to share Universalism, even when times were rough and people were mean to him. He was cheerful and kind and never stopped believing that God loves everyone in the universe.

Tuesday, April 7, 2026

The Mystery of Easter

 

Luke 23:55-56, 24 1-11 [New Jerusalem Bible]
Meanwhile the women who had come from Galilee with Jesus were following behind. They took note of the tomb and how the body had been laid.

Then they returned and prepared spices and ointments. And on the Sabbath day they rested, as the law required.

On the first day of the week, at the first sign of dawn, they went to the tomb with the spices they had prepared. They found that the stone had been rolled away from the tomb, but on entering they could not find the body of the Lord Jesus. As they stood there puzzled about this, two men in brilliant clothes suddenly appeared at their side. Terrified, the women bowed their heads to the ground. But the two said to them, ‘why look among the dead for someone who is alive? He is not here; he has risen. Remember what he told you when he was in Galilee that the son of man was destined to be handed over into the power of sinful men and be crucified, and rise again on the third day. And they remembered his words

And they returned form the tomb and told all this to the Eleven and to all the others. The women were Mary of Magdala, Joanna, and Mary the mother of James. And the other women with them also told the apostles but this story of theirs seemed pure nonsense, and they did not believe them.

Reflection:
This week, Holy week, is the most sacred in the Christian tradition. From Jesus' procession with all his followers into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, to the last supper with his disciples, betrayal and arrest on Maundy Thursday, his crucifixion and death on Good Friday, we come to the scripture reading for today. Joseph of Arimathea takes down Jesus’ body from the cross, wraps it in a shroud and puts it in a tomb “hewed in stone.” The women who had traveled all the way from Galilee with Jesus witness.

Then the women prepare the spices and ointments to care for the body of one who is deceased, until, as observant Jews, they rested for the sabbath. Holy Saturday is a day of grieving… all those followers, disciples and friends who had loved Jesus dearly as a man, as a teacher, as a religious leader must have been devastated, each grieving in their own way. The women left to finish their traditional funeral care for the body at the first sign of dawn, but they are met by an empty tomb, confusion. Two angels give them the surprising, mind blowing news, that He was risen.

All these women go to tell the disciples what they have seen, but (and I love this part) “this story of theirs seemed pure nonsense, and they did not believe them”. It’s neither the first time nor the last that people haven’t believed women.

As we gather this Easter morning, some of us are Christian, others were raised in different traditions or none at all. We come with a diversity of perspectives on this festival day. Historically, while our Universalist congregations tended to be pretty traditional Christians who believe in a loving God, Unitarians have long questioned the divinity of Jesus, and have often sought a religion without miracles. Thomas Jefferson once published a bible where he literally cut out all the miracles with a pair of scissors. Unitarian, transcendentalist Preacher Theodore Parker preached long[i] ago that it doesn’t matter whether or not you believe in miracles to be faithful, to lead a good life. Born and raised in that Unitarian tradition, I have long sympathized with Doubting apostle Thomas, we did not believe that Jesus had returned until Thomas put his hands on the wounds Jesus suffered during the crucifixion. But Doubt, my friend Gloria says “is an invitation to look around, to explore.”

I take comfort in the resurrection of the earth in Springtime. This is a resurrection you can feel in the air, hear in the birdsong, and see the grey cold earth matted down under the winter snow and ice show the first signs of color, as spring emerges from “seeming death.” Every year the snow drops, and then the crocuses, and then the green grass, and the buds on the trees, and just yesterday the first daffodils and forsythia blooms. But I, like anyone who has lived in the North East, have learned to be skeptical of that first “fools spring” which, while delightful, is inevitably followed by a snowstorm and bitter cold. Nevertheless, spring does, eventually, come. I have seen it with my own eyes.

But what happened in that Tomb is a mystery. I don’t mean the kind of mystery that some good detective work can solve, I mean the kind of mystery that we will never understand fully. As UUs we don’t always do well with mystery. We love science, and reason, but the life of the spirit brushes up against mystery. There is mystery at the edges of life and death. What happens beyond this life we know. Mystery is sometimes a name for the divine, because how could our human minds comprehend what is beyond us?

As much as we study the world around us, there is so much we don’t know, and I believe there are things we will never know because their very nature is beyond our understanding. If we are going to be present with all of life, especially in the depth of life where our soul is rooted, we are going to come up against mystery.

Those women went to the tomb not seeking a miracle, but to do the hard and sacred work of caring for the body of a loved one who has died. On Easter we sing “alleluia” but I don’t think those women felt “alleluia” when they stood at the tomb, when they saw the body was missing. I imagine that even when the angels spoke to them they felt confused and bewildered. They definitely didn’t feel “alleluia” when they tried to tell the story of this mystery to the apostles and the men didn’t believe their story. On that first Easter Sunday at the empty tomb, those women who cared deeply for Jesus didn’t yet know what we know today, about the thousands of years that Jesus’s teaching and spirit have survived.

When, I wondered, and how did their hearts finally turn to joy? That is a mystery too.

“I have come through too many dark places
To waste any time censoring what is permitted
To bring me joy”
writes the poet Nell Aurelia

We have surely been through some dark places, and we need joy. Joy is part of what we are working for, what we are fighting to protect. Joy is resistance. Not an easy joy, but the joy of birdsong after winter, the joy of resurrection after seeming death. The joy of ordinary people gathering on a Sunday morning, giving and receiving love and care. If joy is available to you today, don’t let cynicism keep it down, The world needs your joy. Not a joy that skips over hard things, but the deep joy of one who has seen the realities of this hard world and, in one mysterious moment, remembers what it is to be full of life.

Today as we sing our alleluias, as we sing the joy of the season, like a bird singing their dawn song in the first rays of sun, I invite you simply to be present to the mystery of life, of death, of resurrection. And today, to open your heart to the joy of this precious life we share.