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 It was Harry Potter’s first Christmas at Hogwart’s School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was also the first time in his eleven years that Harry felt accepted, loved, and appreciated. The first time he felt he belonged somewhere. No small gifts, to be sure. In fact, it was the first time he’d received Christmas gifts at all! And yet Harry was about to receive an even greater gift on that Christmas night.

Harry awoke late, long after most everyone else in Gryffindor House, and in Hogwart’s castle, had gone to sleep. He remembered his most compelling Christmas gift from that morning—an “invisibility cloak.” Just as the name implies, the magic cloak had the power to make its wearer totally invisible. With the cloak, Harry could roam the forbidden night halls of Hogwart’s. And since it was Christmas night, and he was awake, he thought he’d try it out.

In his wanderings under the cloak, Harry felt safe from discovery, at least until his presence was signaled by a shrieking book in the restricted shelves of the library. Like any eleven year old, Harry fled. Even under the cover of the invisibility cloak, he was risking discovery and punishment —for himself and for his house. Quick as he could, Harry took refuge in a room that seemed safely out of the way….

“It was a few seconds before he noticed anything about the room he had hidden in. It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled up against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket—but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn’t look as if it belonged there…. It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.”

It wasn’t until he’d visited the room three nights in a row that Harry learned he had found the “Mirror of Erised.” Only later, too, did he come to understand the inscription: “I show not your face but your hearts desire.”

The Mirror of Erised—the Mirror of one’s true hearts desire…. On its magic surface was reflected not only the face of one who peered into it. The Mirror of Erised also reflected the deepest yearnings of anyone who looked into it. For Harry Potter, this meant seeing the family he never knew—mother, father, aunts, uncles, grandparents. It meant discovering a connection with others who, despite the fact they were all dead, had a profound bond with one another. It meant for Harry a glimpse, to phrase it in UU terms, of where—and who—he was in the interdependent web of all existence. Truly a gift, for an eleven year-old…or for anyone!

Imagine for a few moments that we, in everyday Pueblo, right here at the UU Church of Pueblo, have also discovered the Mirror of Erised. But, because this is not a magic place like Hogwart’s, the mirror has some restrictions on its power. We can only use it to see the true desires of our own hearts as they apply to this community of faith—to its future…and to its present. Do we dare to peer into the Mirror and look at its reflections? Do we dare to ask of it the secrets of our own reflections. And what would those reflections concern?

Would we be reflecting on our own sense of belonging in this community? Would we seek to view our own place around the hearth of community? And would we dare to take in the mirror’s secrets, too? Would we dare to acknowledge that we are seeking here in this community that sense of interconnectedness—a sense of belonging and fulfillment? Can we dare to look into our own deepest need for that sense of belonging? Perhaps we might see the possibilities of letting go of our vulnerabilities and risking an even deeper commitment to this community and to its work. Hmmm…a deeper commitment. That might well be a scary thing upon which to reflect. What would that mean?

What might the mirror reveal of our priorities? And what would it reflect back to us about our commitment to our healing work in the world—the work that is nourished and supported by our engagement with this community?

Perhaps we’d find in the Mirror of Erised a reflection of our own deepest desire for this community to grow, to expand, to flourish? What would the mirror show us about that? Who would surround us as part of this community, as Harry’s family surrounded him when he gazed in the Mirror of Erised? Who would we see in the Mirror as part of this community in the future…and in the present? And who would we not see?

Would we perhaps merely see our own most ingrained biases about the kinds of people we “want,” and the kinds of people we do not want to be a part of this community? And what kind of people would those be? The Mirror might show us that, too, and we might just be shocked by what we see, if we care to look honestly at its reflection.

Perhaps, too, we’d discover in the Mirror’s reflections our own deepest yearnings to share our Unitarian Universalist way of being in the world with others—with everyone who steps inside this “circle of kinship?” Perhaps we’d see that our deepest desire is to welcome all who come seeking a kindly word or a way to celebrate all that is our life, with thanks, praise, and a commitment to building up the common good?

Perhaps the Mirror would show us that we know—we really know at the very depths of our beings—that there is no “this kind of people,” and no “that kind of people….” The Mirror might indeed reflect to us our own profound conviction that we are called to welcome all persons of inherent worth and dignity who come seeking ways to “build the common good, and make our own days glad.” Is it too hopeful to wonder if the Mirror of Erised just might be magical enough to reflect back the deepest desires of our hearts as they engage hopefully in this community…. And that those reflected desires, if we care to look intently and openly at them, might just tell us our real mission as a UU community?!

One more thing we might discover when we gaze into the Mirror of Erised.... We might discover that we are mirrors ourselves. Now you might be thinking of that funhouse hall-of-mirrors effect of looking into a never-ending reflection—a universe of reflections that become skewed and so small that we cannot even tell what images they carry.

There is the danger of that. As Harry found out about the Mirror of Erised, there is the danger of getting so bound up with our own desires—as important and as good as they are—that we end up being paralyzed by them. We can get lost in that hall of mirrors with no way out. Bumping about in such a place, we either go mad or we fixate on our own desires. We might forget that we actually looked into the Mirror in the first place to seek our reflection as a community engaged with the work of healing in a world so desperately in need of it.

Yet, the Mirror of Erised might, if we are careful and attentive, show us that we can reflect to others our own deepest desires for “an earth made fair and all her people one.” We can be mirrors of how our deepest desires to build the common good can spark committed action. We might also see that we are not the mirrors of completeness,  accomplishment, and success. Instead, we may discover that we who gather around this hearth of community are together as “works in progress.”

But we are also among those “who, age after age, perversely, with no extraordinary power, reconstitute the world,” as Adrienne Rich put it. And we can invite others into that august group by our reflection to them of our commitment to build the common good.

Finally, as we gaze into the Mirror of Erised and seek to come face to face with our deepest desires, we might just discover that our deepest desire, our most compelling need, is to be bound to those who desire the same thing—“to hold the whole world in our hands…and to teach the fragile art of hospitality,” in Bill Schulz’s words.

And we might come to see that just as we long to be accepted, to belong, to find meaning in our lives in a chaotic world, so do others. We might just come to understand how we can reflect the fragile art of hospitality and welcome to others, because we know it is our true desire for ourselves as well. We can be the mirrors others seek to face their own deepest desires and learn to tune them, together with ours, to the perverse calling to “reconstitute the world.”

If that is the revelation of ourselves we receive from the Mirror of Erised, then we, like Harry, have received a great gift—a magic that at once opens us out to, and interconnects us into, the entire web of existence. It also draws us into engagement with one another, to seek ways we can together work to heal the web of existence, “to make our own days glad, to sing our thanks and praise, for all life is a gift which we are called to use to build the common good.”

This week I invite you to find the Mirror of Erised—yes, pun intended—and reflect on your deepest desires for this community, for its interconnection with the web of all existence, and for our power to reflect welcome and inclusion to all who come seeking the work of healing in the world.

Think about what that would look like. How would that change the way the UU Church of Pueblo looks now? How would it change the way we see ourselves …and…the way others see us? What might you see as you gaze into the Mirror?

You might even think to write about your reflections…or somehow record them. And do me a kind favor—make of yourselves reflections of what you see. This community would love to know, and so would I!

 

May your reflections be blessed, and may you reflect your blessing to others.

Shalom and blessed be.