There is a lie to be told about everything. In Daniel Quinn's novel, The Holy, four-year-old Tim looks out his window to see a man whose "massive…head sported snake-like horns." He's looking at a classic image of Satan. His mother tells him he's imagined it. But "she had never accused him of imagining things when he'd seen a praying mantis or…a falling star." Tim believes his mother knows the truth, that he has seen a strange man at his window, but she is lying. "At age four...he'd learned a profound and unforgettable truth: there is a lie to be told about everything."¹ It turns out Tim has seen a demon, perhaps Satan. It also turns out Tim's mother isn't lying; she believes he's imagined it. But Tim's lesson is not wrong. There is a lie to be told about everything. What he doesn't realize, what most people never realize, is the lie he's beginning to perceive was first told centuries-even millennia-ago, and has been believed ever since.

Ancient people believed the gods and goddesses were immanent, local, accessible, connected to specific natural phenomena and human situations: birth, death, love, fertility, planting, growing, harvest, rain, sun, moon, stars, war, peace, mountains, trees, rocks, oceans, rivers, animals, wine, fire, seasons, and so on. The ancients lived in intimate relationship with the deities, with spirits, with the ancestors. They conducted rituals, offered sacrifices, petitioned, prayed, argued, gave thanks. The deities, spirits and ancestors were not transcendent; they were of the earth. They were present-one and the same with nature's processes. Somewhere along the way institutional religion demonized the old gods and goddesses, called them evil, associated them with Satan. If you hear me say nothing else this morning, hear this: the lie told about Satan is the saddest, most dangerous, most tragic lie humanity has ever told and believed. There is a premodern spirit-a wonderful, mystical, saving spirit. But in order to access it, we must confront this lie about Satan and the nature of evil.

This is the fourth and final sermon in my series on claiming a liberal religious identity. In sermon #1 I said Unitarian Universalism is the first modern religion. Our principles, of which I am deeply proud, are modern principles. Sermon #2 addressed the problems of modernity and named the current rise of religious fundamentalism as an effective, if troubling, response to those problems. Although religious liberals share many of fundamentalism's critiques of modernity, we have a harder time responding to its problems precisely because our principles are modern. Still, upon reflection our need for transformation is evident. Knowing modernity's economics impoverish billions and endanger the planet, knowing modernity's individualism leads to spiritual isolation, how can we remain an exclusively modernist religion? Knowing fundamentalism has responded effectively to deep human longings, how can we not respond to those longings as liberals? What stones cry when we call? Where is our wailing wall?

Sermon #3 referred to these questions as "postmodern," leading us towards understanding the world we see is not necessarily the world that is; developing in us a faith in things intellect and rationality cannot observe, measure or quantify, yet which we can nevertheless experience. I talked about an early discovery in quantum physics, the idea of wave-particle duality, how a wave is a state of limitless possibility, and how this notion, whether taken literally or as metaphor, suggests what it means to make the spiritual transition to postmodernity. Postmodern religious life is akin to riding waves, seeking access to that state of limitless possibility not only through written-spoken prose, but through the non-word, the dreaming, unconscious, emotional, bodily, creative, soulful, prayerful, ritualistic, dancing, singing, poetic, child-like, spontaneous, circular ways of being alive and human on this good, green-blue earth.

Something special happened immediately after that sermon. A few people said, "Josh, the way you're speaking about riding waves, limitless possibility, and not being stuck in confining ideas of what it means to be human reminds me of Buddhism." Someone else said Taoism. Someone else mentioned Jesus. Later in the week someone said the sermon reminded them of Hinduism. I agree. The insights of the ancient religious traditions-what some call the wisdom traditions-seem consistent with the implications of postmodern science. Quantum Physics tells us a wave is a state of limitless possibility that cannot be measured. The Biblical book of Ecclesiastes, ancient Jewish wisdom literature, says "God has set eternity in the hearts of men, yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end."² The Tao-te- ching, the ancient book of Taoist philosophy, opens with the words, "The Tao that can be told of is not the eternal Tao; the name that can be named is not the eternal name."³ "Once Jesus was asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God was coming, and he answered, "The Kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed…. For, in fact, the kingdom of God is among you."⁴ Black Elk, the great spiritual leader of the Ogallala Sioux, in describing his great vision of the hoop of the world, says "I understood more than I saw; for I was seeing in the sacred manner the shapes of all things in the spirit, and the shape of all shapes as they must live together like one being."⁵ The parallels are endless. The wisdom traditions identify an unseen world of possibility all around us, and claim we need more than rationality to experience it. Like the postmodern spirit in liberal religion, the premodern spirit also seeks the immeasurable, seeks to ride waves. Ecclesiastes offers another relevant insight: "What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done; there is nothing new under the sun."⁶ The spiritual directions implied in quantum physics are not new. They are very, very old.⁷

My series doesn't end here. A transformed liberal religious identity is not only about seeking the unseen. There is a relationship between unseen and seen. The wave is the particle. But so many religions today deny the relationship, promoting stark dualisms: unseen/seen, sacred/profane, heaven/earth, good/evil. There is a lie to be told about everything. To expose this lie, I seek an even deeper grounding in the premodern spirit.

Most children love Halloween, and some religious fundamentalists call it Satanic. I used to say, "Oh, get over it. Trick-or-treating began in the 1930s, promoted by local town councils as family fun." Now I approach it differently. Halloween, the hallowed or holy evening, is an old celebration linked to the older Celtic harvest festival Samhain, the last festival before winter. It was and is seen as a time when the veil between this world and the spirit world is very thin, a time not only to celebrate the gifts of the earth, but to communicate with spirits and ancestors. Today we dress up in costume, walk to our neighbors' homes, threatening certain punishments (tricks) if the proper tribute (treats) is not given. I see a wonderful premodern sensibility embedded in this ritual. Isn't it similar to the way the relationship once worked between the old deities and the people? The ancients had to make regular, special offerings and sacrifices to assure the proper functioning of the earth's natural processes, to assure spring rain, a bountiful harvest, a healthy child, a happy family. Our costumed children are strangely reminiscent of the old deities, but we don't think of them that way. If we ask what they are supposed to represent, generally speaking the answer is demons, devils, monsters. Why?

In order to establish itself as the Church Universal, the early Christian Church needed a strategy to abolish the old gods and goddesses around whom the common, country people, the pagans, still ordered their lives. What better way to do this, than to distinguish the transcendent God of the Bible, the God of Heaven and light, from the dark, earth-bound deities of the people? The early church began demonizing the old gods and goddesses, portraying them as evil, pagan, heathen, savage, eventually identifying them as servants of a little-known fallen angel from Jewish tradition named Satan, now elevated to the status of ultimate evil.⁸ I realize I'm painting this long and complicated historical process with broad strokes. But in the end, I believe humanity's sense of embeddedness in nature, its thankfulness for the earth's bounty, its respect and awe for the planet, its belief in the sacredness of all creation, its intimacy with the cycles and the seasons, its ability to live simply, to take only what is needed and leave the rest were severely damaged if not destroyed. The earth came to be seen as evil's source. Human nature came to be seen as flawed and in need of the saving touch of the heavenly father. Satan came to be seen as lord of the world. The old deities came to be seen as Satan's servants. And the premodern spirit was virtually abolished. Think about the story of the end times where the earth is ultimately destroyed and it doesn't matter; the righteous escape destruction to live with God in heaven. There is a lie to be told about everything.

If you want to disempower or destroy a people, justify taking their land and resources, or obliterate their culture, link them to earthly things. Women were called witches, dark, emotional, impure, seductive, earthly. People of color were called heathens, savages, dirty, libidinous, dark and primitive. Homosexuals were called slaves to the body's unholy lusts, abominations, contaminated. People with disabilities were called possessed, diseased, dirty, and, like nature, flawed. The poor were seen as children, peasants, slaves, dirty, expendable bodies for the military campaigns of kings and Popes. The assault on the ancient earth-based wisdom has claimed many innocent victims. And while modernity sought to get rid of all superstitions including those perpetuated by the institutional church, it did not seek to change the attitude which sees the earth and its resources as dispensable. We are only beginning to understand the consequences of this attitude as we become aware of environmental crisis after environmental crisis.

It didn't and doesn't have to be this way. The premodern spirit, at its best, leads religious liberals to re-establish our embeddedness in natural processes, reclaim our love for the earth, and understand nature is not evil. Evil is what people do to people when we lie about our nature. I say, "Let us reclaim the ground where Satan now dwells." When we hear the word Satan, let us remember the Earth. When were here the word Satanic, let us reflect on earthly things. My conservative colleagues will be uncomfortable with this move. I am not. This is not about Satanism. This is about transforming a lie. This is about being true to the best principles of modernity, discerning our wailing wall, riding postmodern waves, and affirming the solid ground of ancient wisdom.

I want you to imagine a truly marginalized person. Imagine a young urban or rural woman, in her early 20s, no high school degree, single mom. She has been raped. She has struggled with narcotics and alcohol addiction. She is poor, depressed, and HIV positive. It is quite possible she is a person of color. Many of us in this room know this woman, or someone who fits her description. Some of us have been this woman, or have had some of her experiences. Some of us may even be this woman now. Some of us don't know her, but we know she exists, and we understand the need for transforming the lies.

Imagine she walks into a church seeking solace. In the midst of worship, she feels compelled to testify, to tell the stories of her life, the deep, painful truths. The pastor, in a comforting but commanding voice, says, "Child, Satan has you in his clutches. You must overcome!" Imagine in this moment something new welling up inside her fragile, sorrowful frame. Imagine in this moment she begins to understand, as if for the first time, what has happened to her. The evil that clutches her is not a fallen angel, but a society that hates the earth, a society that fears difference, a society that doesn't care about poor people, women, people with drug and alcohol addiction, people with mental illness and physical disabilities, people of color, people with HIV, homosexuals, people of the earth; a society that cares about militarism and violence, power and consumption; a society that tells lies about evil so it can blame its problems on the victims of its own violence. This is the evil clutching her, the evil she must overcome.

She wonders how. "How will I be sustained in this work of overcoming?" The pastor utters the words again, "Satan has you in his clutches." Imagine in this moment she exists in that place beyond names, that eternal place etched in her own heart. She remembers the words of the hymn, "Mother of all, in every age, in every clime adored." Her whole being pierces through the lie we tell about the earth transforming the pastor's words: "Dear child. Blessed child. Beloved child. Your mother holds you in her arms. Your mother has always held you, will always hold you, in her arms. Your mother loves you and cares for you deeply. She expects you to love and care deeply. In your mother's arms you experience eternity. In your mother's arms you are the kingdom. In your mother's arms you see in the sacred manner how all shapes must live together like one being. If, in the midst of your pain and suffering, in the midst of encountering your own mortality, you can breathe deeply and quiet your mind, you will feel her arms wrapped around you, you will know her abiding love, you will stand on solid ground, you will find healing, solace, and meaning in your life; and after many generations, when the people gather, smiling and telling stories, on the day when the veil between their world and yours is thin, with reverence and awe they will call your name, and your voice will float down to them with the swirling leaves in late October's gentle breeze, saying "I am here. I have overcome."

Imagine in this moment she begins to cry tears she's been holding in for years, the pain, sorrow, confusion and anger begin to recede, and just like when she was three, she embraces her life with conviction and a smile. On her way home she drops to her knees, kisses the earth, and whispers "thank you." And then she notices the glistening ground beneath her, and understands: in the place where Satan once dwelt, the stones cry for her.

Amen. Blessed Be. Happy Halloween!