Autumn slides both forward and back. This became an important idea for me as I began to reflect upon the things for which I am thankful this holiday season. Autumn invites us to look back in so many different ways. It invites us to look back to the ancestors, to those who’ve gone before, to those upon whose shoulders we’re standing. It invites us to celebrate and honor the ancestors at the time of All Souls. Autumn invites us to look back to family, to our loved ones, to those with whom we are most intimate—to be with them, to celebrate with them, to offer thanks with them. Autumn’s harvest invites us to look back over the season, the time of planting, the time of growing. It invites us to celebrate and honor the earth and its bounty, not only at the traditional American Thanksgiving holiday, but at the neo-pagan harvest festivals of Mabon and Samhain. Autumn invites us to look back, to remember, and be thankful.

Autumn also invites us to look forward, to the winter time, the cold time, the dark time, the snowy time. It invites us to ready ourselves for rest and nurture in the long, dark winter. And beyond winter, Autumn invites us to look forward even further, to spring, to the time of rebirth, the time of planting, the time of warmth and excitement and passion. With Autumn’s forward gaze reside the seeds of hope.

But none of this has anything to do with why I’m thankful for autumn slides both forward and back. You see, in late October and early November, Mason and I raked up all the leaves around the swing set in our back yard, and we piled them up at the bottom of the slide. Mason would climb up to the top of the swing set and then slide down, screaming all the way, into the leaves. When sliding backwards, his whole body would disappear into the leaves, except for his head, which would peek out of his hood and howl with laughter. When sliding forward, on his knees, he would take a flying leap at the bottom of the slide and plunge head-first into the leaves, still howling with laughter, except this time not as loud because his mouth would be filled with leaves. He’d climb out of the leaf pile, we’d pull all the leaves out of his mouth, then he’d climb the ladder and slide again, and again, and again.

I’m deeply thankful for autumn slides, forward and back. They are part of how I spend time with my son; they happen outdoors, and it’s good to be outdoors breathing fresh air; they don’t require any forethought or planning. They are spontaneous activities, and as you’ve heard me say before, I like spontaneity. Being spontaneous means doing whatever occurs to you in the moment. If you feel like sliding down your slide backwards into a pile of leaves, then you slide down your slide backwards into a pile of leaves. Of course, we can’t be spontaneous all the time, but we need to be spontaneous some of the time. It’s part of having a full life, a whole life, a spiritual life.

Last year at this time I gave a very similar homily about spontaneity, and some of the children have been asking me to repeat it ever since. If you were present at our last Thanksgiving service, you will remember that I said I was thankful for pumpkin rolls and pumpkin drops. A pumpkin roll is not something you bake for Thanksgiving dinner. A pumpkin roll is when you take a pumpkin and roll it down a hill. And a pumpkin drop is when you take the pumpkin up in your tree house and drop it out the window so it splats all over the ground. Well, this year, while taking our autumn slides, both forward and back, we decided to add a third pumpkin activity, which we call tossed pumpkin. It’s very fun, but it does require enough strength to lift a big pumpkin and toss it into the leaf pile. If you toss it from far enough away, and then miss the leaf pile because it’s hard to aim a pumpkin, well, then it has pretty much the same effect as the pumpkin drop: the pumpkin splats all over the place. I am thankful for the opportunity to have fun, to be spontaneous, to act like a kid for a little while.

I’m also thankful for Unitarian Universalism and for this congregation, and I would hope every person in this room is thankful for Unitarian Universalism and this Unitarian Universalist congregation that nurtures and sustains us, challenges and provokes us, inspires us and gives us hope. I’m thankful because Unitarian Universalism is the one religion that doesn’t tell me what should be important to me, what I should believe in, how I ought to behave. Unitarian Universalism asks me to look deep inside myself; it asks me to look very closely at the world around me and at people’s wisdom through the ages; and it expects that I will figure out what matters most to me; I will figure out, over time, what I believe and what is sacred to me; I will figure out the most ethical way to conduct my life. Unitarian Universalism trusts me. Unitarian Universalism trusts you. I am very thankful for that trust. I am very thankful that through all these years as religions have tried in a variety of ways to control people, to think for people, to wrap people’s lives in irrelevant rules that often strip them of their humanity, Unitarians and Universalists offered, instead, religious freedom. I thank those who’ve gone before, and I take responsibility for handing on this great liberal religious tradition to those who will come after. Autumn does indeed slide both forward and back. May we slide with autumn into generous hearts, hopeful spirits, and a deep and abiding thankfulness.

Amen. Blessed Be.