Judgement Calls – 7/2/21
Opening Music: Bach Cello Suite no. 3 Sarabande – played by Abby Lorimier
Opening Words of Welcome: ‘We, Whose Journeys are Always Beginning’ by Marni Harmony (adapted)
We, whose journeys are always beginning
We, whose mission always awaits us
We, whose visions are bent on loving,
We gather together here.
We gather as a community drawn together
out of common need,
each carrying our own bundle of treasures and dreams.
We gather together seeking meaning,
yearning to understand life in all its dimensions—
as it challenges and expands,
as it burdens
as it consoles and heals.
We gather together with questions—
the kinds of questions that provoke us to the path of action.
We gather with hope,
the kind of hope that pulses on, through uncertain times.
We gather with tenderness,
the kind of tenderness that can only be born from knowing
human capabilities as well as human imperfections.
We gather wanting certainty, and having none,
but we are ever-wakeful to possibilities
as we seek discernment and gentle judgement.
We gather, then, unbounded—but close.
We gather, drawn to reconnect with the depths of life,
to turn our attention to the Spirit, which flows around and within us always.
We gather to join with others in building beloved community;
dreaming a realm of love and justice into being; helping to create a better world for all.
These opening words, adapted from a piece by Marni Harmony, welcome all those who have gathered on Zoom this morning to take part in our Sunday service. Welcome to members of the congregation, to friends and visitors with us ‘live’ today – joining us from all over the country and indeed all over the globe – and not forgetting those may be listening to our podcast, or watching this service on YouTube, at a later date. For those who don’t know me, my name is Jane Blackall, and having been part of the congregation for over 21 years I’m now the Ministry Coordinator with Kensington Unitarians, and also your ministry-student-on-placement, as part of my final year of training with Unitarian College.
If you are here for the first time today – a special welcome to you – I’m glad you’re here! I hope you find something meaningful in the service, something that speaks to your condition. Please do hang around afterwards for a chat or drop us an email to introduce yourself if you’d like. And if you’re a regular here – thank you for all that you do to welcome all who come – even on Zoom, every single one of us plays a part in co-creating this community, this sacred space we hold, a place for comfort and challenge, for connection with that which is both within us and beyond us. So whoever you are, however you are, whatever state of mind, and body, you woke up in – you are welcome in this space, just as you are. Make yourselves at home, virtually speaking.
As we always say, feel free to do what you need to do to be comfortable this hour – for some of you that might mean keeping your camera switched off and lurking – that is totally alright by us. It’s lovely to see your faces and get a sense of who’s gathered here but there’s no compulsion. Similarly there’ll be opportunities to join in as we go along but these are very much invitations, not obligations. You can sit in the virtual ‘back row’ and keep your head down with our blessing.
In this morning’s service we’ll be reflecting on judgement – not the hellfire and damnation sort, don’t worry! – but judgement as a necessary aspect of life – making considered decisions about how to act, or who to trust, on the basis of sometimes limited or confusing evidence – and the link between judgement and justice – how we live out our values (or not) in the decisions we make.
Chalice Lighting: ‘The Sacred Power of Justice’ by Jami A. Yandle
I’ll light our chalice now, as we do each Sunday, and at other times when we gather. This simple ritual connects us with Unitarians and Unitarian Universalists the world over, and reminds us of the historic and progressive religious tradition of which this gathering is part.
We light this flame to ignite the sacred power of justice.
We light this flame so that it may be a beacon of hope
in moments of uncertainty, fear, anxiety, and the unknown.
We light this flame, and are emboldened by its blaze,
knowing our strength as a prophetic and powerful people
is rooted in the many and diverse ways we answer the call to love.
Candles of Joy and Concern:
Each week when we gather together, whether it’s in person at the church in Kensington or here as an online congregation, we share a simple ritual of candles of joy and concern, an opportunity to light a candle and share something that is in our heart with the community. So we’ve got a good few minutes now, for anyone who would like to do so, to light a candle (real or imaginary) and say a few words about what it represents.
When you’re ready to speak, unmute your microphone so we can all hear you, and then re-mute yourself once you’ve finished. If you are going to speak, please be aware of how long you’re speaking for, so that there’s time for others to say something too. Let’s leave a pause between one candle and the next, so we can honour what’s been shared. And don’t worry too much if two people end up speaking at the same time, or there’s a technical hitch of some sort – these things happen on Zoom – please do persevere! At this point it’d be nice, if you can, to switch to gallery view so we can all see everybody.
(candles – thank each person)
I’ve got one more candle here and – as we often do – I’m going to light that to represent all those joys and concerns that we might be holding silently in our heart today – each life touches so many others and we could easily keep lighting candles all day and never be done.
Let’s take a moment now to think of all those joys and concerns we have heard expressed… all those little windows into our shared human condition and the life of the world we share… and let’s hold them – and each other – in compassion and loving-kindness as we move into a time of prayer now. Let’s each do what we need to do to get ourselves into the right state of body and mind for it – maybe shift your position, intentionally adopt a prayerful posture – close your eyes or soften your gaze – whatever helps you get your heart in the right place, and to be fully present with yourself, each other, and that larger presence which holds us all.
Prayer: based on words by Eila Forrester
Spirit of Life – God of All Love – in whom we live and move and have our being;
as we turn our attention to the depths of this life –
the cosmic mystery and wisdom that abides in All-That-Is –
we tune in to your holding presence within us and amongst us.
We gather here to be quiet and to pray,
to find a time for our inner selves,
our souls and spirits which lie hidden
and often neglected within us.
Let us now sit quietly and wait for the voice within us.
Let us simply listen, and be still for a while.
(pause – 30s)
Some of us, this day, will feel empty and tired, grey and listless.
But emptiness and tiredness are also prayer, a cry for spiritual food
and an aching need for soothing refreshment and strength to go on.
Some of us feel alone, aware of our need for someone to love us.
This too is prayer without words, a longing and a sorrow which seeks
for the healing spirit of love, the embrace of God’s concern for us
in spirit and in soul, and in the practical hands of caring people.
Some of us are happy, some content, some have hope and plans for tomorrow:
all these are prayers – prayers of giving, prayers of gratitude,
prayers of creating thought and dreams.
So let us gather with our wordless prayers –
prayers of our inner selves, our inner truth.
May God be with us in these prayers, sustaining them
and enabling us to grow more aware of our wordless selves.
May we be aware of the waters of our own spirit
which are always there for us to drink
if we will sit still, wait, and listen.
(pause – 30s)
Let us take a moment now to focus our loving thoughts and prayers
on all those who are suffering in our world right now –
through illness or injury, isolation or injustice –
and let us also pray for those who care;
who act and speak out to improve the lot of those in need.
In a moment or two of stillness let us call to mind a person, or situation, in need of prayer.
(pause – 30s)
And let us take another moment to focus our thoughts and prayers
on all that we have to be grateful for right now – the goodness
that persists despite all the world’s challenges and uncertainties –
all the kindness, beauty, and pleasure we have known, and witnessed.
In this moment of stillness let us call to mind something we feel moved to give thanks for.
(pause – 30s)
Spirit of Life – God of all Love – as this time of prayer comes to a close,
we offer up our joys and concerns, our hopes and fears,
our beauty and brokenness, and call on you for insight, healing, and renewal.
As we look forward now to the coming week,
help us to live well each day and be our best selves;
using our unique gifts in the service of love, justice and peace. Amen
Reading: ‘The Smallest Biggest Number’ by Erika A. Hewitt (adapted) [Chloë video]
This piece was written by Unitarian Universalist minister Erika Hewitt, nearly a year ago, in early March 2020, just as the world was beginning to grasp the seriousness of the Covid-19 pandemic. She reflects on the great difficulty – and vital importance – of making good judgements in complex and ambiguous situations (she also reminds us we need to bring our values and ethics to this process of judgement, discernment and decision-making). She begins with a few words by another UU minister, Theresa I. Soto:
In this community, we hold hope close. We don’t always know what comes next, but that cannot dissuade us. We don’t always know just what to do, but that will not mean that we are lost in the wilderness. We rely on the certainty beneath, the foundation of our values and ethics.
Erika Hewitt continues: I serve as minister of a 60-member congregation in Maine, and every time I help decide whether the weather’s bad enough to cancel the Sunday service, I know that someone’s going to grumble: the same weather can elicit responses from “There’s hardly any snow!” to “I can’t possibly clear my driveway!” Sixty people looking at the same roads don’t just have different opinions, but also a multiplicity of perspectives.
Most of the leaders I know are being forced to translate that decision-making pressure to an unknown, potentially lethal virus, whose patterns we can neither predict nor fully yet understand, as it makes its way through a country of nearly 330 million people. It’s no wonder that those leaders are crumbling—not because of overblown fears —but because it’s distressing to make decisions that have vast, nearly unimaginable consequences for the people we love.
Should we ask people to come to work? Should we still hold our event, knowing that participants will receive soul nourishment but risk physical exposure? Should our family take this once-in-a-lifetime trip? Every ‘Should We?’ is haunted by the Ghost of What We’ll Wish We Had Known.
Ethical Culture Leader Lois Kellerman has said that ‘the smallest number in ethics is two’. I believe, moreover, that the most ethically-driven decisions prioritize the most vulnerable members of any given community. Moral decision-making hinges not on the “I” and not even on the interconnected web of “we,” but on the most fragile strands in the web. As our leaders make tough decisions—terrible by nature, because there are no “good” decisions in the chaotic fear of what looms—our communities are being tested for their tolerance for uncertainty, as well as how much grace they choose to extend towards the leaders making those high-stakes but values-driven decisions.
Our communities—bless them, hold them, keep them—are also beginning to absorb the lonely, painful cost of “social distancing.” If two is the smallest number in ethics, it’s also the smallest seed of certainty; the way not to get lost. Because the ultimate test, when the fear and grief finally give way to clarity, will be knowing ourselves by how well we cared for one another. (short pause)
Erika Hewitt concludes with a few short words of prayer: We are hunkering and hoarding, Great Shimmering Goodness, though you call us to be better than that. Remind us that you delight, first and always, in showing up in the spaces between people—no matter how big those spaces are. Amen.
(short pause) Words by Erika Hewitt on the difficulty – and necessity – of good judgement in our decision-making – especially when we are living through such complex and uncertain times as these.
Meditation: based on words by Arjuna Ardagh
Thanks Chloe for our reading today. We’ve come now to a time of meditation. You might like to have a wiggle and get as comfortable as you can in your chair (if you’re in a chair!) – put your feet flat on the floor to help ground and steady yourself – maybe close your eyes.
Our words for meditation are by Arjuna Ardagh and they tackle another aspect of judgement which perhaps is at the root of some of the squeamishness that many of us seem to feel about the word – the fact that we humans so often judge other people – and ourselves. It seems we often feel we ought to be non-judgemental… or at least aspire to being so… but in reality I don’t know many (if any) people who really are (and I’m not sure it’s really possible).
In this piece, rather than saying ‘don’t judge others’, Arjuna Ardagh is telling us something a bit more subtle, I reckon, something a bit more like ‘yeah, judgement is part of navigating life, just don’t cast yourself as better or worse than anyone else in the judging; we’re all a mixed bag.’ Another quote I found, a traditional saying quoted by the Sufi teacher Jamal Rahman, puts it more simply: ‘make no judgment in which there is no compassion.’ Both/And.
These words will take us into a good few minutes of shared stillness, during which we’ll put our chalice-cam up on screen, in case you find it restful to watch the moving flame. And for our meditation music this week we have a lovely well-known tune from Abby and Peter. As ever, these words, and images, and music are just an offering – not an obligation – you are free to think your own thoughts, and meditate in your own way.
Just a few words, then, from Arjuna Ardagh to take us into the silence.
Whenever a judgment or evaluation
Arises within you,
Whether positive or negative,
Add the three words: “…just like me.”
You can go ahead and judge another as lazy,
But be inclusive with it:
He is so lazy, just like me.
She is arrogant, just like me.
They are incompetent,
She is unreliable,
He is angry,
Just like me.
But make sure you call back positive judgments in the same way:
The Dalai Lama is so wise, just like me.
She is compassionate, just like me.
They are courageous,
She is creative,
He is generous,
Just like me.
In this way, call back every judgment to yourself
And realize that there is no other out there:
It is all you.
(make no judgment in which there is no compassion)
Silence: 3 minutes silence accompanied by chalice video
Musical Interlude: ‘Londonderry Air’ – played by Peter Crockford and Abby Lorimier
Reflection by Jane:
At the church coffee morning on Tuesday I accidentally gave away a bit of a spoiler about this Sunday’s service theme. And – not entirely unexpectedly – the news that we were going to think about ‘judgement’ this week provoked a bit of a reaction! I guess it doesn’t seem very Unitarian. At least not at first glance, anyway. Judgement sometimes seems to be a bit of a dirty word among religious liberals – quite a few of us have consciously walked away from other traditions where judgement is more of ‘a thing’ – more central to the theology. Perhaps, for that reason, we associate the idea of judgement with the prospect of being condemned to hell for all eternity (often for things – supposed transgressions – that seem no big deal to us liberal religious types). So, like I said, let me reassure you: I’m not talking about God’s eternal judgement, the verdict as to whether we’ll be sent forever upstairs or down on the basis of how naughty or nice we’ve been.
Instead I’m thinking about judgement in the sense of discernment – an unavoidable part of life – making decisions about how to act, or who to trust, on the basis of limited or confusing evidence – trying to make those judgements justly and wisely in the light of the values we hold most dear. Every day of our lives – to a more or less conscious or active degree – we are making judgements about what is true, fair, and right (factually or morally) – and what is the best course of action.
In the piece by Erika Hewitt, which Chloë read for us earlier, we were taken back a year in time, to the early days of the pandemic, when people were just beginning to get to grips with the gravity of the situation, and taking big decisions on the basis of scant and sketchy information. As Hewitt reminded us, even in pre-pandemic days – when there was heavy snowfall and she had to make a call as to whether or not to call off a Sunday service – it was hard to get a consensus. Everybody has their own perspective, their own priorities, their own tolerance of risk, and so on. How much harder, then, was the judgement call that led so many churches – including ours – to shut their doors indefinitely in the face of Covid-19? Particularly in the US, in the Unitarian Universalist Association, our sister church, the leadership came out early to say congregations should plan to be meeting online-only until at least summer 2021. At the time a lot of people thought this was a pretty extreme response but of course it’s turned out to be quite prescient.
Of course, as well as these collective – community – judgements, we are each having to make our own personal judgement calls each day relating to life-in-a-time-of-Covid (and how best to live it). We have a lot more information to go on than we had a year ago – but that doesn’t always help – sifting through the avalanche of information that is available to us is quite an undertaking, not just in terms of sheer volume, but in terms of separating the wheat from the chaff. This is another form of judgement, or we might say discernment, distinguishing reliable and relevant sources of information from misinformation, government and corporate spin, conspiracy theories and so on. Even solid scientific sources are liable to change their messaging over time as new data comes in and the scientific consensus shifts – which is as it should be – but many find such shifts confusing. How do we know who/what to place our trust in? Critical thinking – determining which sources are trustworthy and which are to be taken with a shedload of salt – is a vital part of good judgement. And it takes a long time – a lifetime – to build up those critical thinking skills – to establish that bank of wise advisors and trustworthy sources – from the foundations of what-we-know-to-be-true.
But even if we’ve got critical thinking cracked – we’ve amassed a load of trustworthy evidence on which to base our decision-making – (and I should drop in now that this is one of the standard definitions of ‘judgement’: ‘the ability to make considered decisions on the basis of evidence’) – the next step is to integrate or synthesise all that information – which is, generally, no easy task. We’ll often find that different bits of evidence are pointing in different directions – sometimes subtly different, sometimes radically different – how do we decide which to give priority to?
Judgements, if they are to be truly just, need to be made with reference to our values. At least, we might think of the basics: the golden rule, or the inherent worth and dignity of every person. But again, it’s the work of a lifetime to clarify what matters most to us, to hone our moral intuition, such that we have developed an ethical yardstick against which to measure our decision-making. Erika Hewitt says this: ‘The most ethically-driven decisions prioritize the most vulnerable… Moral decision-making hinges not on the “I” and not even on the interconnected web of “we,” but on the most fragile strands in the web… The ultimate test, when the fear and grief finally give way to clarity, will be knowing ourselves by how well we cared for one another.’
It seems right that a church like ours should be guided in its judgement by such a principle – we often frame our values in terms of caring about those who are on the margins of society, who are often oppressed, or overlooked – and in this case ‘the most vulnerable’ might refer to older people, people with pre-existing health conditions, people who are forced by poverty or discrimination of various sorts into situations which put them at greater risk of catching Covid-19. But even so… that intention to ‘prioritise the most vulnerable’ is an ambiguous guide to action. On the whole, in the case of Covid-19, we’ve taken that to mean ‘protect the most vulnerable from catching this deadly disease at all costs’ – but Hewitt herself acknowledged that ‘our communities… are also beginning to absorb the lonely, painful, cost of “social distancing”’. Indeed, some of the most vulnerable have said, ‘I just can’t bear this isolation; I’d rather take my chances’. In complex situations – you don’t need me to tell you this – there’s rarely one clear ‘right answer’. Still, once we’ve discounted the misinformation, and weighed up the priorities, we might come to a consensus about a general direction of travel that’s ‘righter’ and a direction that’s ‘wronger’. For now, collectively, we seem to have agreed that mostly-staying-home is the least-worst-option.
Now, I’ve made living-in-a-time-of-Covid the focus of this exploration of judgement, so far, just because it’s at the front of most of our minds these days, and for much of the last twelve months. But of course there are – always have been – judgement calls to make in every sphere of our lives. So let’s broaden our consideration of judgement out a bit further with another challenging aspect. As we considered in the meditation earlier – one way or another we’re often judging other people. At both the personal and the societal level we have to distinguish truth from lies, good intentions from bad, as part of the process of our everyday self-protection and survival – we ask ourselves of strangers, acquaintances, experts, leaders – ‘Is this person on the level, or am I being conned? Can I take this person at their word… or am I being manipulated and given the run-around?’ We want to think the best of people but we know we will encounter those who don’t play fair.
It makes me think of the bible verse, Matthew 10:16, where Jesus tells his followers: ‘I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves: be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves.’ Yes, go into the world in a spirit of love, kindness, generosity, but… don’t be daft. Be discerning.
We religious liberals often pride ourselves on being non-judgemental – and in terms of listening to the tales of other people’s life experiences that’s generally a great principle – many of us have made dodgy choices at various points along the way and we wouldn’t want to be condemned or written off on the basis of these anomalous episodes. And we haven’t walked in another’s shoes so ‘who are we to judge…’, we might say. Besides, we tend to be pretty laid-back about what counts as valid life choices anyway, so we might be a lot less prone to judge people’s life stories by default. Also we like to think of ourselves as being open-minded, ready to listen to alternative viewpoints, perhaps to seek common ground, and to bear in mind the possibility that we might be mistaken. All of these are, generally speaking, good things – very Unitarian virtues – don’t get me wrong.
But. I would like us to think a little bit harder about this idea of being non-judgemental as an ideal. The sense that sometimes crops up that our valuing of open-mindedness, and pluralism, require us to radically accept anything and everything, to suspend judgement at all times. I hope it isn’t a contentious thing to say – but sometimes I reckon we should be judgemental. We religious liberals can collectively be so judgement-averse – conflict-averse – sometimes we so want to be nice that we decide not to decide. Not to take a view. There can be a tendency to hedge our judgements in qualifications and maybes; but, at least occasionally, we do need to get off the fence and take sides – pronounce that something is morally right or wrong, true or false, rather than avoiding the issue, attempting to sustain a neutral position, and remaining above the fray. We need to bring it back to our core principles again. And ‘don’t make a fuss’ is not a core principle! We are, after all, a values-based community and there are some essential values we should uphold.
The University Unitarian church in Seattle has a congregational mission statement and it is one of the best articulations of those essential Unitarian values I’ve come across so far. Amongst other things, it calls on them to ‘vocally and actively oppose injustice and stand in prophetic judgment of all that would diminish the equality and dignity of human beings or harm the web of life.’ That’s it. Judgement comes with the territory of justice-seeking. And that goes for injustices/unfairnesses close-to-home, just as much as big global issues, I’d say. As Desmond Tutu put it, ‘if you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse, and you say you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.’
It’s tricky territory, this business of judgement – whether that’s discernment of what to do for the best in a complex, messy world; or assessment of who and what is worthy of our trust; or taking a moral stand to ‘vocally and actively oppose injustice’ wherever we witness it – none of this is easy stuff… but judgement is an unavoidable part of our individual and collective lives. So, in the days to come, may we each be blessed with the gift of wise judgement; judgement tempered with humility, kindness, and compassion, always. And may it be so, for the greater good of all. Amen.
Hymn: ‘What Does the Lord Require?’ (Kensington Unitarians – October 2018)
Time for us to sing! – today’s hymn has rather traditional words: ‘What Does the Lord Require?’ – the words are by John Bunyan –based on famous words by the prophet Micah – ‘what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?’ I think this fits quite well with what we’ve been exploring – that need to do justice (which requires us to do judgement! rather than avoiding difficult issues) but to balance it, judiciously, with mercy and kindness – and in a spirit of humility which neither sets us as ‘above’ or ‘below’ anyone else – like in the meditation: ‘make no judgment in which there is no compassion.’
The words will appear on screen shortly and you can sing along with a recording of our congregation singing back at the church in 2018 (see if you can hear yourself!) – we’ll all have our microphones muted – so nobody will hear. Feel free just to listen, of course, if you’d rather.
What does the Lord require
for praise and offering?
What sacrifice desire,
or tribute bid us bring?
But only this: true justice do,
love mercy too, and walk with God.
True justice always means
defending of the poor,
the righting of the wrong,
reforming ancient law.
This is the path, true justice do,
love mercy too, and walk with God.
Love mercy and be kind,
befriend, forgive, always,
and welcome all who come
to sing with us in praise:
and in this way, true justice do,
love mercy too, and walk with God.
Yes, humbly walk that way,
free from all pompous pride,
in quiet simplicity,
God always at our side:
thus evermore, true justice do,
love mercy too, and walk with God.
Thanks to Jeannene for hosting today, Chloë for our reading, Abby and Peter for the lovely music. As ever there are a number of opportunities to connect congregationally in the week ahead: Coffee morning 10.30 on Tuesday – lively conversation again this week – you never know what you’re going to get, one week it’s debating the merits of Brussel Sprouts, the next it’s an in-depth exploration of Unitarianism (thanks Atul for giving us a workout this week with your questions!) Heart & Soul, our contemplative spiritual gathering – on ‘Generosity’ – just two spaces tonight. Even if you’ve not been before it’s never too late to start – newcomers are always welcome.
Don’t forget we’ll have virtual coffee-time afterwards, to chat in small groups, if you’d like. And if you can bear it we like to take a group photo after the closing music so stick around. We’ll be back next week on Zoom at 10am. It’s fine to share the zoom link with trusted others. If you’re new please do get in touch to introduce yourself – drop us an email – or stay for a chat.
Also wanted to remind you that FUSE (Festival of Unitarians in the South East) is taking place online this year – £25 for a whole day of interesting options: Jef Jones is offering a session on Walt Whitman and his mysticism of the body, Sheena Gabriel will be exploring the Legacy of Hildegard of Bingen, Richard Bober will be offering guidance on deepening our personal meditation practice, and our own Sarah Tinker will speak on how our small groups can build community. There’s going to be a seminar from poet and theologian Pádraig Ó Tuama – also a quiz – should be good. Most events are on Saturday 20th February. There’s a link to sign up in the weekly email. Even if you don’t sign up we’re going to encourage you all to go en-masse to the Sunday morning worship with Unitarians from across the district that weekend, Sunday 21st February, we won’t hold our own service that day – we’ll send out all the details in our usual Friday email that week.
We’ve just got our benediction now – loosely adapted from words by Carl Seaburg – and our closing music is a lovely bit of Schubert from Abby and Peter. So I invite you to select gallery view at this point, if you can, so we can all see each other for the benediction and get a sense of our community-and-connectedness as we close.
Benediction: freely adapted from words by Carl G. Seaburg
Through our temporary lives the great currents of history run.
Let us keep the channels open and free, as best we can,
so as not to obstruct purposes greater than our own.
Let us keep our minds set upon the high aspirations
that bind us into one sharing fellowship of loving hearts.
Let us seek a balance between just discernment and generosity of spirit,
holding to our highest values, as we chart our daily course of action.
And in the week to come may we remain ever-mindful that we are
each part of an interdependent web, connected to those we know,
and those we will never know, in ‘an inescapable network of mutuality’.
So may we live wisely and well, acting with solidarity and care. Amen.
Closing Music: Schubert’s Standchen – played by Abby Lorimier and Peter Crockford
7th February 2021