March 1, 2026
First Unitarian Universalist Society of Burlington
Reverend Karen G. Johnston, Senior Minister
Some say once you’re gone you’re gone forever
And some say you’re gonna come back
Some say you rest in the arms of the Savior if in sinful ways you lack
Some say that they’re coming back in a garden
Bunch of carrots and little sweet peas
I think I’ll just let the mystery be (Iris Dement)
Part of me thinks it is a waste of time to wonder about what happens after we die. Part of me loves going down this rabbit hole. These two parts dwell within me. They aren’t very good neighbors – while they are basically civil to each other in public, in private they trash talk each other.
This is perhaps why I was drawn, many years ago now, to David Eagleman’s book, Sum: Forty Tales of the Afterlives. Eagleman is a neuroscientist who has written serious non-fiction books about how the human brain works. He also wrote a slender volume with absurd, sometimes mind-blowing ideas of possible afterlives. The chapters were not written not as serious theological suppositions, but to expand the reader’s imagination beyond the stories we have been passed down.
It is from this book that we shared two of the forty tales just now. These may confound you, excite you, or offend you. Or maybe all three. I am hoping it sparks something juicy and generative for you, because none of us start with the blank slate. Each of us is given ideas about what happens when we die – given to us by our families of origin, given to us by a secular culture heavily informed by a particular kind of Christianity, as well as gained along our own seekers’ spiritual path, unique to each of us.
Yesterday, our Date with Death Club met on this topic of Afterlives with a definite question mark in the title of the session. There was an interfaith panel made of guests from faith traditions, sharing their take on the tradition they represented. Then, in the second half of the session, participants reflected on what they believe and how they have come to believe it. It was, indeed, juicy.
Reverend Kendyll Gibbons, much admired in our Association, and long associated with humanism, had this to say on the topic of what happens after we die:
Some religions answer that question by supposing that our current lives in this world are simply preparation for other, future states of existence, so that what constitutes living well now is whatever will pay off in the greatest happiness and pleasure in the hereafter.
Again, humanism is concerned not so much with whether there is or is not another world, but with how much present time and energy we invest in preparing for it. Many of us suppose that our state of consciousness after the body’s death will be just what it was before the body’s conception; non-existent. Others suppose that we cannot know the answer to this mystery, since no evidence seems sufficient either way. A few of us have had uncanny personal experiences that incline us to think there may be something more beyond this life.
She concludes
But here’s the thing; if our primary focus is on what makes a good life here and now, we are called upon to do the best we can to do what is right in this world. If some future state were to exist, its moral laws might be the same as those which pertain to this one, and we would be inclined to do what we are doing anyway.
I get why the narratives of heaven or reincarnation came about and have been sustained over millennia of human existence, even though these do not comport with my understanding. These stories can – not always, but often – grant a sense of comfort, a sense of order to the universe and meaning of our individual lives.
This is why, if someone has certainty and it gives them comfort, especially at a time when they need it, that works for me. In pastoral moments, when someone is need of support and care, on this topic, I have no need to be right or wrong. In fact, as a Unitarian Universalist minister, I experience an impulse to protect them and their certainty. Even if what they hold as certain in no way resonates for me.
What we think happens after we die is not the territory of right and wrong. It is the terrain of resonance, possibility, and mystery.
There is a time I would intervene: if that belief system is causing harm. Either harm to the person themselves (for instance, if they think they are going to hell for being queer) or if that belief system is being used as a weapon against others, like the threat of eternal damnation or using false certainty to demean someone else’s speculation of what is possible.
Our heritage tells us that Universalists affirmed the presence of heaven and disavowed the existence of external damnation because of the very nature of god (which is love). Historically, some Universalists were known, in the 19th century, to be drawn to Spiritualism – seances and such – being able to talk to the dead. Our Unitarian forebears seemed more interested in ever improving self culture than heaven, though heaven was in their theological machinations and their preaching parlance.
When it comes to modern times, we Unitarian Universalists are guided by a free and responsible search for truth and meaning in all things, and this includes our understanding of what happens after we die. This searching and seeking can lead us on many paths, including a pluralism of beliefs right here in this room (and on the livestream).
Some of us here believe that we become food for worms – and that is just fine and as it should be. Others believe this to be true, but it causes distress. Some of us believe – or want to believe – that we will join our long-dead loved ones in a paradise better than life on earth. Some of us believe that our spirit is released in the form of energy that becomes one with the Universe.
Ultimately, it is unknown. The Great Unknown. What we might simply call Mystery. Yes, if we must choose one place where modern Unitarian Universalism lands on this theological topic, it would be Mystery, in the most inclusive way possible.
What we think happens after we die is not the territory of right and wrong. It is the terrain of resonance, possibility, and mystery.
I want to share a cautionary tale. A friend of mine – about my age – grew up believing that he would grow old because, as a young child, he had a mystical vision of himself as an old man. This vision was so powerful, and he believed it so firmly, that in his adolescence he engaging in daring behaviors, believing that he was guaranteed a long life. (His poor parents!)
In his young adulthood, the same vision visited him again, though this time, there were more details. As he looked out through his old man eyes, at his old man hands, he noticed the room in which he was sitting. It was a living room. There was shag carpet. It was avocado colored. All of the sudden, the vision’s meaning shifted. This was not a vision of him living to a ripe old age in this lifetime. Instead, it was his last lifetime, living in a house with that ubiquitous avocado colored décor so popular in the late 1960s. There was no guarantee of a long time, though it did cement his belief in reincarnation.
Let us be humble – for we might think we know what we know, and it turns out, we don’t have all the information.
What we think happens after we die is not the territory of right and wrong. It is the terrain of resonance, possibility, and mystery.
I remember a story the Reverend Victoria Safford told on Star Island. Victoria had been my home congregation’s minister when I first encountered Unitarian Universalism. She told the story of a congregant who was an avowed and loud atheist, known as such and loved in the congregation. She went to visit him while he was dying.
To both their surprise, on his deathbed, he asked her to recite the Lord’s Prayer. He allowed this surprising need to be spoken and met. She received this request with love and affirmation. These are what belong at that tender time of last days, hours, moments.
It is challenging, when someone (I’m including humans and pets) we love dies, and we are trying to make meaning of it. And if we haven’t done our own discernment, we can too easily fall back on what mainstream society has to offer. Which may (or may not) reflect our actual values or beliefs. Things like
Everything happens for a reason.
God needed another angel.
They are in a better place.
They are in heaven.
For pets, some say They are crossing the rainbow bridge.
If these statements don’t reflect our own understanding, they can leave us reeling, complicating our grief.
For those of us with children in our lives, be we parents or grandparents or caregivers or aunties or uncles, I think they deserve that we do our spiritual diligence around this topic. We don’t want to cede our responsibility to them (and to ourselves) to mainstream culture, the media, or what random others are saying, do we?
The best place to start is getting clear on your own beliefs. In Unitarian Universalism, we do this when it comes to sexuality. In fact, just two weeks ago, our 4th & 5th graders completed their Our Whole Lives class – OWL. If we can do this for the reality of sexuality, I think we can do it around the reality of mortality – and certainly, the sub-topic of what happens after we die.
The next step is to look back at what beliefs were handed down by your family of origin or the religion in which you grew up (if any). Ask yourself: does this still resonate for you? If yes, that’s great news.
If no, then it may be time to figure out what you do believe. It may be time to figure out what narratives make sense to your head, which speculative stories make sense to your heart, and if there is a gap between these two, find a way to connect them, to have them co-reside within you while being civil to and with each other (no trash talking).
And if you have children in your lives, getting clear about what you believe is a gift to them. Living in America, they will be exposed at school or on the playground or in media that heaven the only option. They might be told that hell is real. Is this what you want for our children?
As Unitarian Universalist parents, or grandparents, or aunts and uncles, our responsibility is to share what we believe while making room for mystery. As children get older, we make room not only for Mystery, but for the free and responsible search less so for “the truth” and more so for the meaning making.
If you aren’t sure what you believe, I invite you to take as your guide our core value of Pluralism, respecting that there are many beliefs on this topic. And then, based on that pluralism, rather than choosing certainty, take refuge in a Unitarian Universalist sense of Mystery by letting the mystery be.
I started this sermon with a stanza from a folk song by Iris Dement (not a UU, as far as I know). It’s called “Let the Mystery Be.” Its lyrics continue
Some say they’re going to a place called glory
And I ain’t saying it ain’t a fact
But I’ve heard that I’m on the road to purgatory
And I don’t like the sound of that
I believe in love and I live my life accordingly
But I choose to let the mystery be
Everybody is wondering what and where they all came from
Everybody is worrying ’bout
Where they’re gonna go when the whole thing’s done
But no one knows for certain and so it’s all he same to me
I think I’ll just let the mystery be
