Loving Disruption? – 14/08/22

Opening Music: performed by Peter Crockford

Opening Words: ‘Blessed Are We’ by Andrea Hawkins-Kamper (adapted)

Blessed are we who gather with open hearts, together, in this space, today.

Blessed are we: the chalice-lighters of resistance, justice, love, and faith.

Blessed are we: the heretics, the outcasts,
the disruptors and provocateurs, the walkers of our own way.

Blessed are we: the border-crossers, the refugees,
the immigrants, the poor, the wanderers who are not lost.

Blessed are we: the transgressors, the trespassers,
the passers-by, the cause-takers, the defiant, the compliant.

Blessed are we: the hand-extenders, the sign-makers, the protestors, the protectors.

Blessed are we: the people of diverse identities;
all ages, genders, and abilities; of multiple heritages.

Blessed are we: the friend, the stranger, the lonely, the hidden, the visible, the authentic.

Blessed are we who rise in solidarity, blessed are we who cannot, blessed are we who do not.

Blessed are we for this is our Beloved Community, and this is who we are. (pause)

These opening words by Andrea Hawkins-Kamper welcome all those who have gathered on Zoom this morning to take part in our Sunday service. Welcome to regular members of the congregation, to any friends and visitors who are with us today, and also those who might be listening to our podcast, or watching on YouTube, at a later date. For those who don’t know me, my name is Jane Blackall, I’m Ministry Coordinator with Kensington Unitarians.

If you are here for the first time today – we’re especially glad to you have you with us – welcome! I hope you find something of what you need in our gathering this morning. Please do hang around afterwards for a chat or drop us an email to say hello and introduce yourself if you’d like. Or you might try coming to one of our various small-group gatherings to get to know us better. And if you’re a regular here – thank you for all that you do to welcome all who come each Sunday. Even on Zoom, we have a part to play in co-creating this sacred space, this sense of community.

As we always say, feel free to do what you need to do to be comfortable this hour – it’s always lovely to see your faces in the gallery and get a sense of our togetherness as a congregation – but we know for some it will feel more comfortable to keep your camera mostly-off and that’s fine. Similarly there’ll be opportunities to join in as we go along but there’s no compulsion to do so.

This morning’s service I’ll be co-leading the service along with our own Patricia Brewerton. Patricia suggested today’s theme of ‘Loving Disruption’ – a great, juicy topic – so we’ll be considering how love-in-action isn’t always going to be a warm-and-fuzzy, straightforwardly feelgood, experience. Sometimes, it seems, what Love requires of us is to be disruptive, even make a nuisance of ourselves, because so many things in this world need to change – radically – for the sake of the greater good.

Chalice Lighting: ‘Who We Are Called to Be’ based on words by Pat Uribe-Lichty

Before we go any further though, I’ll light our chalice, as we always do whenever we gather. This simple ritual connects us with Unitarians and Unitarian Universalists the world over, and reminds us of the proudly progressive religious tradition of which this gathering is part.

Our chalice is a reminder that, in hard times,
our ancestors in faith acted with courage
to bring hope and safety, to bring life itself,
to people who were threatened with harm.

We light it this morning as a reminder
of who we are still called to be in a world
marred by injustice, carelessness, and neglect,
where so many are endangered and despairing.

With courage, faith, and fragile hope,
we bring ourselves to the work before us,
ready to lift up all that is most beautiful and true
and join in living towards a realm of 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, those stories which we don’t feel able to share out loud this morning. 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 a spirit of loving-kindness for a moment or two. And let’s take those joys and concerns into an extended time of prayer now. These words are based on a prayer written by A. Powell Davies, back in the 50s, so they might seen a little old-fashioned in places, but I found they touched my heart and I wanted to share them today.

Prayer: based on words by A. Powell Davies

You might first want to adjust your position for comfort, close your eyes, or soften your gaze. There might be a posture that helps you feel more prayerful. Whatever works for you. Do whatever you need to do to get into the right state of body and mind for us to pray together – to be fully present here and now, in this sacred time and space – with ourselves, with each other, and with that which is both within us and beyond us. (pause)

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 Holy presence within us and amongst us. (pause)

Spirit, renew in us the sense of life’s goodness
and the vision of its beauty, that we may find joy
and strength and gladness as we journey on our way.

So much that is precious we so easily lose,
and so much that is worthless we struggle to preserve.
Help us now to reflect more searchingly on the inwardness of our lives.
Deepen within us our knowledge of our real needs.
Lead us to know more surely what life should be.

Even with eyes that have been dazzled by a world of glittering trinkets and baubles,
help us to see the heavenly vision, the realm of love that is yet-to-come.
Even in hearts that are fearful, let there be a prayer for courage.
Give us to see ourselves as we really want to be.

The duty we shirked has left a painful memory in us;
we know how near we came to undertaking it.
The truth we left unspoken remains to trouble us;
We remember how near we came to speaking it.
The kindness we withheld, we could have given;
We need not have been vengeful or spiteful;
we felt the impulse to be generous. We wanted to be good.

Save us from all despairs, especially from those
with which we shield ourselves and make excuses,
saying that it is not in us to be better than we are.
For we know the truth: we love the goodness that we
turn away from, and whenever we are willing, we can serve it.

Help us to have faith in the promise:
even the promise that is in ourselves.
Let us not add to the hopelessness that is in the world.
Let us have faith that we can be a part of what moves forward,
pushing back evil and establishing the good; overturning the status quo.
Make us one with all that in humanity is struggling onward,
Groping towards new life, toiling for a better day.

What our prayers begin, may our lives continue. (pause)

And in a few moments of shared stillness now let us gently recall
those situations that are uppermost in our minds and hearts this day:
let us hold all those who are suffering in a spirit of loving-kindness;
and, with self-compassion, let us acknowledge our own daily struggles too;
and, despite everything, let us inwardly give thanks for all that is still good in our lives. (pause)

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

Hymn: ‘Let Love Continue Long’ sung by the Unitarian Music Society

Time to sing. Our first hymn, ‘Let Love Continue Long’, is one that really connects with today’s theme I reckon. The words will appear on screen so that you can sing along – or you might prefer just to listen – we’ll do our best to make sure you’re all kept muted so nobody will hear you.

Let love continue long,
And show to us the way,
And if that love be strong
No hurt can have a say;
And if that love remain but strong,
No hurt can ever have a say.

If love cannot be found,
Though common faith prevail,
When love does not abound,
A common faith will fail.
When human love does not abound,
A common faith will always fail.

If we in love unite,
Debate can cause no strife:
For with this love in sight
Disputes enrich our life.
For with this bond of human love,
Disputes can mean a richer life.

May love continue long,
And lead us on our way:
For if that love be strong
No hurt can have a say.
For if that love remain but strong
No hurt can ever have a say.

Reading: ‘Holy Discomfort and Holy Disruption’ by Kiakiali Bordner (read by Maria Petnga-Wallace)

I’m too much of myself
Discomforting the privileged
in the name of wholeness
in the name of holy
Discomfort
in the name of holy
Disruption

I’m too much of myself
to be complicit
I know better
I lift my light
shake loose the comforted
Disrupt the stale status quo
of harmful culture

I know better
Disrupt the stale status quo
with words
with actions
some mumbled into my breathing
some simple as forgiveness
some hurled as curses and cries
some as complicated as Love
some woven as tightly as a shield
some in Community
some gentle as a prayer
some all on my own

I’m too much of myself
I bring
my sharp edges
my holy anger
my holy love
for the interconnected
holiness wholeness of all

I disrupt
the casual oppression
the covert slight
refuse the passive aggressive deflection
refute the excuse of racist ‘tradition’

no discomfort of the oppressor
matters here
Black lives matter here
Indigenous sovereignty matters here
the margins are the centre here

I know better, I do better
sometimes I build
small bridges just so
between people
sometimes I draw closer
two disconnected circles
until their new Venn diagrams
create Community

dismantle harmful cultures
allow evolution
provide for the discomforted
shine bright
you know better
be explicit
together we are never too much

Disrupt
in the name of holy wholeness
Discomfort
in the name of holy wholeness
Bring all of ourselves
in the name of holy, of wholeness

Meditation: ‘To Invoke Love’ by Sean Parker Dennison

Thank you Maria. We’ve come to a time of meditation. To take us into stillness, I’m going to offer a poem from Sean Parker Dennison, which reflects on the many different – and often disruptive – faces of love. These words will be followed by a few minutes of shared stillness during which we’ll have our virtual chalice on screen. The silence will end with some gentle music from Peter. So let’s each do what we need to do to get comfortable – have a wiggle if you need to – or put your feet flat on the floor to ground and steady yourself – maybe close your eyes. And as I always say, these words, images, and music, they’re just an offering, feel free to meditate in your own way.

To invoke Love
is to ask for a hug from a thunderstorm,
spill tea in the lap of the infinite trickster,
to make the biggest, most embarrassing mistake
of your life in front of everyone who matters.

To invoke Love
is to never know if it will come softly,
with the nuzzle of a beloved dog,
or pounce right on your chest with the strength of a lioness
protecting her cub, her pride, her homeland.

To invoke Love
is to take the risk of inviting chaos to visit the spaces
you spent so much time making tidy,
and watch as the breath of life scatters everything
you have lonely just folded and put away.

To invoke Love
is to allow for the possibility that your words
and actions might become so empowered
you can no longer believe in apathy,
or the self-righteous idea that nothing can change.

To invoke Love
is to give up self-deprecation, false humility, pride,
to consider yourself worthy to be made whole,
willing to encounter Love that will never
let us let each other go.

To invoke Love
is to guard against assumptions,
take care with our words and practice forgiveness,
not as ethereal ideal, but right here,
in the messy midst of our imperfect lives.

To invoke Love
is to approach each day and every person with wonder,
anticipating Love’s arrival: ‘Is this the moment?
Is this Love’s grand entrance?
Is this person the embodiment of Love? Am I the one?’

To invoke Love
is to play the fool, the one more concerned with loving
than with appearance or reputation,
the one ready and willing to be vulnerable,
abandoning anything that gets in Love’s way.

To invoke Love is to be ready to become Love.
Here. Now. In everything we do. Are you ready?

Silence: 3 minutes silence accompanied by chalice video

Musical Interlude: ‘Offertoire – Cesar Frank’ performed by Peter Crockford

Reading: ‘The 99%’ by Annie Gonzalez Milliken (read by Jane Blackall)

Our second reading today is called ‘The 99%’ and it’s by UU minister Annie Gonzalez Milliken. Before launching into her words I want to give you a bit of context to connect it to our theme for this morning. This reading is a reflection on the Occupy Wall Street protests, which took place just over a decade ago and which kickstarted a Worldwide Occupy Movement, including Occupy St Paul’s with its own ‘tent city’ here in London. In case your memories of that time are hazy, as a reminder, the Occupy Movement expressed opposition to social and economic inequality, and to the lack of “real democracy” around the globe; it shone a light on how large corporations (and the global financial system) control the world in a way that disproportionately benefits a tiny minority, undermines democracy and causes instability (hence these focused protest camps in the financial districts like Wall Street and the City of London). The protestors used the slogan “We are the 99%” to highlight the obscene and ever-increasing concentration of wealth among the top 1% of income earners compared to the other 99 percent of humans on this planet.

This short reflection speaks of the experience of being part of a protest – an intentional disruption to the unjust status quo – and a disruption which is rooted in love. In recent years, protestors for many worthy causes have tried a variety of bold tactics to draw public attention to the dire need for urgent change – climate activists supergluing themselves to roads, or planes, for example – headline-grabbing stunts which are intended to raise awareness (but such high-profile acts of disruption sometimes seem to backfire as the media and general public often focus on the inconvenience being caused rather than paying attention to the gravity of the underlying issue the protestors are concerned with). And, perhaps capitalising on some of this anti-protestor feeling, our government is increasingly curtailing our right to protest in any meaningful way. With all that said, here’s Annie Gonzalez Milliken’s reflection on the ups and downs of loving disruption, the mixture of success and failure, as part of the Occupy Movement: ‘The 99%’. (pause)

“Look, look!” The strangers around me were shouting and pointing. I spun around. From my position halfway across the Brooklyn Bridge, I could see a large circle of light on the Verizon building, prominent in the New York City skyline. Inside the circle were three symbols that would have meant very little just three months earlier. But on that day, November 17, 2011, they were a beacon of hope and a cause for celebration, two nines and a percentage sign.

“We! Are! The ninety-nine percent!” We shouted in time to the flashing symbols as we took part in our protest march, delighting in this surprise subversion of corporate space. We laughed and cheered as the messages changed, scrolling through favourite chants. Finally the display reached its conclusion: Happy Birthday Occupy Wall Street! The social movement that had started with a motley crew of activists camping out in Zuccotti Park turned two months old that day.

The dose of joy was sorely needed. Two days earlier, I awoke to frantic messages on my phone. The police had arrived in the middle of the night and torn down the tent city I had come to love during my shifts with Protest Chaplains–NYC. I rushed down. The tents, kitchen, and library, the diverse and passionate crowds, were gone, revealing bare concrete guarded by police.

So we carried visceral anger and fresh sadness with us as we marched on November 17. Still, we celebrated. We celebrated because we knew we had already changed the world. The Occupy movement had shifted the national conversation about economic and political issues. We had encouraged folks to come together and live into their values in radical ways. So we celebrated our victories in the face of recent heartbreak and defeat.

We knew the road ahead would be rough. When Zuccotti was raided, the occupiers had become homeless. Still, we hoped. Our hope that night was not rooted in optimism for the future but in the reality of our powerful gathering. It grew from the certainty that we were standing on the side of love that night as we marched. It was nourished by the sense of connection we felt as we danced and sang and hooted with joy, the loving interconnection that sustains all life, that which I call God.

We must dare to hope and celebrate in that manner. We have faced disappointments and instances of defeat. We have seen the brokenness in individuals and social systems. And yet, we must celebrate. We must celebrate who we are and how we are changing lives, communities, laws, and society for the better.

When we celebrate our highest values and find that sacred hope within us, we are spiritually energized and driven in divine directions. We are moved toward one another, into loving interconnection, into deeper relationship with all that is holy.

Reflection: ‘Loving Disruption?’ by Patricia Brewerton

On the last day of our holiday in June we were in the French city of La Rochelle, a port on the Atlantic coast. I know La Rochelle well. It is where we always stay when returning from our holiday on the Ile de Re so as to be ready to catch a morning train back to Paris. It is an interesting city, sometimes known as the Geneva of France because of its role in the religious wars of the sixteenth century when it took the Protestant side. Like many port cities it was also involved in what Wikipedia describes, in a rather non-committal way, “the triangular trade with the New World dealing in the slave trade in Africa with plantations of the West Indies and the fur trade with Canada”.

The old port, around which are many busy bars and restaurants, is beautiful. On this visit we decided to explore out from the port area towards where the harbour meets the Atlantic. It was a beautiful day and we were just ambling along so I had time to notice the bronze wall sculpture on the rampart. Tucked away on the other side of the wall to the sea it was ignored by all the people hurrying past to get to the beaches and bars. From a distance it seemed to be just columns of round featureless blobs. But when I got closer I realised they were columns of heads, not much bigger than my thumb, placed one above the other in rows across the bronze plaque. Each head is turned into a book which the head above seems to be reading, the only difference between them is the expression on their faces, some express surprise and some seem to ponder on what they have read. But as we go across the sculpture we see that in some of the columns the heads are distorted and broken.

The artist, Bruce Krebbs, calls the sculpture “Generation to Generation” and says that it is the story of people who read people’s minds who are themselves read by other people just like culture is passed from one generation to another. But sometimes someone refuses to read and behind him every deteriorates and there is nothing one can do about it. I understand the sculpture as representing how we respond to what we learn in life, change it a bit and pass a new understanding on to the next generation, each generation changing something in the way we live. And these columns of reading heads, placed elegantly one above the other suggest that such change can be calm and orderly.

Just along from the wall sculpture there is a much smaller ceramic plaque acknowledging La Rochelle’s role in the slave trade – a trade so easily glossed over in the Wikipedia entry. The date on this is 2010 and, of course, by this time no-one implicated in the trade was still around to object and it caused no outcry when the plaque was unveiled.

But change is not always calm and orderly, sometimes it takes disruption to make it happen. In Bristol, in June 2020, we were forced to acknowledge that much of the wealth of some of our port cities also came from the enforced labour of African people kidnapped and sold into slavery, by an event that was truly disruptive. Pulling down the statue of Edward Coulson had an impact which the discreet placing of the plaque in La Rochelle seems to have lacked.

Another way of thinking about these reading heads is that passing ideas from one head to another could inhibit change as what has been passed along becomes common sense and therefore difficult to challenge. The candidates vying to be our next prime minister tell us that change is what the country needs. But no-one seems to be offering change. They talk about the need for growth, and whether tax goes up now or in the future, and the debate is often rather nasty and dispiriting. A few weeks ago, Sarah Tinker asked what it would be like if instead of just repeating the same old stuff, the candidates spoke about love. I am sure we all smirked behind our masks, thinking well that ain’t ever going to happen. Such radical change is just not possible. It would be far too disruptive.

When I was thinking of the Coulson’s statue it reminded me of another statue which I was amazed to see in the place where it stands. I had wondered why it was there and recently did a Google search and found that it can serve to remind us that sometimes things we never imagined could happen do happen.

In America in the suburb of Seattle known as Fremont, there is a statue of the first head of the Soviet Union, Vladimir Lenin. As statues are usually erected to honour an individual I was amazed to see a statue of this Bolshevik in a city in the United States. It is on full public view where it was placed by its American owner in 1995. Actually it is up for sale, but no-one seems interested in buying it. It is sometimes decorated and sometimes vandalised but it cannot be removed because it stands on private land. Whatever it means in its present place the fact that it is there at all is a symbol of change that we once never thought would happen. The current American owner of the statue found it in a scrapyard in the Czech Republic where it was thrown following the dissolution of the Soviet Union in 1988 when it was no longer thought appropriate to honour the first leader of the regime from which they had been liberated. A liberation which did not seem at all likely a few years earlier – a disruptive change which most people in the West welcomed at the time.

Let’s return to that sculpture of the reading heads. The artist says that some times someone won’t read, this is the head with hands over the eyes, and behind him everything deteriorates and there is nothing we can do about it. The political commentator, John Harris, writing in The Guardian, recently, wrote about “the very human talent for just averting our eyes from what is directly in front of us, so as to live a quiet life”. We all need to do that sometimes. But we know that we can’t do it all the time. The recent heatwave was a wake up call. Something has got to be done about the climate crisis. Harris suggests that perhaps disruptive action is absolutely necessary to get politicians to listen.

What if that disruptive action was love? During another time of crisis, when everything seemed hopeless, an old friend told me he had turned off the news for a week unable to bear it and found that the world was full of amazing, loving people. Maybe politicians don’t realise that people are so much better and loving than they give them credit for. Just look what happened in March 2020. Because of our age we were told to isolate, to restrict our outings to a one hour daily walk. Immediately neighbours contacted us to offer to shop, the owner of the nearby Italian delicatessen invited us to phone in an order which he would deliver and the local mutual support group, one of many set up all over the country, provided Alex and Adam who brought us regular supplies of fruit and vegetables. And we can all point to examples where people looked out for one another.

And our way of life was changed, and that change was disruptive. Many people didn’t see loved ones for months. Children didn’t go to school. It wasn’t nice but we did it because it was necessary to protect vulnerable people and make sure that the NHS had the capacity to look after those people who suddenly really needed them. And when we started to mix with others again, we kept two metres away from people we would normally hug, and we wore those masks and we continue to wear them when there are vulnerable people around.

I think this disruption is loving, loving disruption. And if we are to leave our children and our children’s children a world which they can live in, won’t we need to accept changes to our way of life, which will be disruptive – out of love for that next generation? Come election time politicians always look for slogans. How about All we need is Love?

Hymn: ‘The Fire of Commitment’ sung by the Unitarian Music Society

Thank you Patricia for your thoughtful reflection and for suggesting this excellent theme. Our final hymn today is ‘The Fire of Commitment’ – maybe the link to our theme isn’t so obvious – the words speak of making courageous choices inspired by prophetic visions – which to me is resonant with that sense of being willing to stir things up for the sake of the greater good. Once again this recording is made by the Unitarian Music Society – do sing along at home.

From the light of days remembered burns a beacon bright and clear,
Guiding hands and hearts and spirits into faith set free from fear.
When the fire of commitment sets our mind and soul ablaze;
When our hunger and our passion meet to call us on our way;
When we live with deep assurance of the flame that burns within,
Then our promise finds fulfilment and our future can begin.

From the stories of our living rings a song both brave and free,
Calling pilgrims still to witness to the life of liberty.
When the fire of commitment sets our mind and soul ablaze;
When our hunger and our passion meet to call us on our way;
When we live with deep assurance of the flame that burns within,
Then our promise finds fulfilment and our future can begin.

From the dreams of youthful vision comes a new, prophetic voice,
Which demands a deeper justice built by our courageous choice.
When the fire of commitment sets our mind and soul ablaze;
When our hunger and our passion meet to call us on our way;
When we live with deep assurance of the flame that burns within,
Then our promise finds fulfilment and our future can begin.

Announcements:

Just a few announcements this morning: Thanks to Patricia for choosing the topic and offering her reflection, Maria for reading, Hannah for hosting, and Peter for our lovely music. We’ll have virtual coffee-time after the service as usual so you can stay and chat if you’d like. If that’s not your thing, as I said at the start of the service, do get in touch via email if you’d like to say hello.

We have various small group activities during the week for you to meet up. Coffee morning is online at 10.30am Wednesday. There are still spaces left for our Heart and Soul contemplative spiritual gatherings (online with me Sunday/Friday at 7pm) and this week’s theme is ‘Humility’.

Our service next Sunday will be a hybrid gathering – you can come along to the church in-person or join us online as usual – it’ll be led by Sarah Tinker and Heidi Ferid on the theme of the seasons.

As I’ve mentioned for a few weeks we’re setting up a WhatsApp group to help congregation members stay in contact, share things which we might find uplifting, and get a little window into each other’s lives. We’re calling this the ‘InTouch’ group – it’s not for discussing church business – just for a little bit of friendly sharing. If you were previously part of the ‘Nature Carries On’ group or the ‘Gratitude Group’ it’ll be along these lines. Please contact me if you’d like to join the group.

Another thing I want to plug is a forthcoming Congregational Conversation on Community Engagement – on Thursday 8th September at 7pm we will hold a gathering on Zoom to explore ideas about how we can actively cultivate ongoing connections between differing groups within our community once we fully move to weekly hybrid services this autumn. There are various options for initiatives and programmes we might set up, so we’d like to hear from people about what they would be most likely to engage with, in order to target our limited resources and energy in ways that would be most fruitful. If you are aware of congregation members who don’t do Zoom please do encourage them to get in touch as it may be possible to offer a ‘watch party’ at church or other channels to enable everyone to participate in this whole-congregation conversation.

The congregation very much has a life beyond Sunday mornings; we encourage you to keep in touch, look out for each other, and do what you can to nurture supportive connections. All this information is also on the back of the order of service and the details were in the Friday email too.

Benediction: based on words by Debra Haffner

We’ve just got our closing words and music now. So I invite you to select gallery view at this point, if you can, so we can all see each other and get a sense of our gathered community as we close.

As we head out into another week in this turbulent and uncertain world,
let us be planted firmly on the side of humanity, and this planet we share.
May we pray for peace and justice; may we speak up and raise our voices;
may we engage as we can in acts of resistance and loving disruption; and above all,
may we remember to take very good care of ourselves, each other and those we love.

May it be so, for the greater good of all. Amen.

Closing Music: ‘Handel – Pastoral Symphony’ performed by Peter Crockford

Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall and Patricia Brewerton

14th August 2022