Homeward Bound – 28/08/22

Opening Music: ‘Take Me Home (Country Roads)’ performed by Marilisa Valtazanou

Opening Words: ‘Sabbath Home’ by Kathleen McTigue (slightly adapted)

Here in the refuge of this Sabbath home
we turn our busy minds towards silence,
and turn our full hearts toward one another.

Even in our sorrows, we feel our lives
cradled in holiness we cannot comprehend,
and though we each walk within a vast loneliness,
the promise we offer here is that we do not walk alone.

In this space of silence and celebration, solemnity and music,
we make a sanctuary and name our home.

Into this home we bring our hunger for awakening.
We bring compassionate hearts, and a will towards justice.
Into this home we bring the courage to walk on after hard losses.
Into this home we bring our joy, and gratitude for ordinary blessings.

This is a holy space in which we gather.
By our very gathering we bless this space.
And in its shelter we know ourselves blessed. (pause)

These opening words by Kathleen McTigue 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 joining us for the first time today – welcome! we’re glad to you have you with us – 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 we’re doing something a little different – it’s a ‘Sharing Service’ – we’ll have all the usual music, hymns, prayers, and readings but instead of a sermon we’ll have an open space of about ten to fifteen minutes where anyone who’d like to share their short reflections can do so. And the theme we’re exploring today is ‘Home’. What does it mean to feel ‘At Home’ – in a place, or with a person, or a group of people in community – perhaps we can also reflect on that experience of not knowing a sense of home, not belonging, and the sense of rootlessness and homesickness. We’ll take on this topic of ‘Home’ in the broadest possible sense in our explorations this morning.

Chalice Lighting: ‘We Come Together Without Creed’ by Maureen Killoran (abridged)

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.

In this free church, we come together without creed,
focusing instead on our core values of justice, equity and compassion…
of mutual acceptance of our diverse ways of being,
as we seek to connect ourselves more fully
with the unfolding truths of life and of our world.

We come together in the stubborn belief that
community is possible and that peace is more than a dream.
We commit together to affirm in our actions as well as our words,
the inherent worth and dignity of each and every human being.
We come together in awareness of our interdependence with all humanity,
and with the wider web of existence, of which we are a part.

We light this chalice as a beacon of hope
for who have gathered here this day.
For all who have ever walked through our doors,
or joined our community via the internet,
for those who may yet find this spiritual home,
and for those whose paths will never come our way.

For all this, and for all those things we dare to hope and dream,
we kindle our chalice flame this day.

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.

Prayer: based on words by Harry Lismer Short

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,
we turn our full attention to you, the light within and without,
as we tune in to the depths of this life, and the greater wisdom
to which – and through which – we are all intimately connected.
Be with us now as we allow ourselves to drop into the
silence and stillness at the very centre of our being. (pause)

Here, on this quiet Sunday morning, we have gathered once again,
to seek something without which our lives would be strangely empty.
We cannot always put clearly to ourselves what it is we expect;
but we know that if our hearts are open and receptive,
there is a holy gift to be received from our presence here.

We have come with a sense of responsibility for the world in which we live.
We are deeply concerned about many things which seem to have gone astray.
There are sorrows which touch the lives of others and fears which haunt our own days.
Conflict and unease reverberate amongst our communities, writ large and small.

We have come with a sense of responsibility for our own lives.
We have work to do, in tending to our homes, our relationships, our livelihoods.
Often we grow weary and discouraged, yet we know that others depend on us,
and we strive to be faithful and committed in our endeavours.

We have a sense of responsibility for this congregation too, our spiritual home.
Much depends on our faith in these times of change and strife.

We have a sense of responsibility towards one another
and towards all those whose paths cross ours.
We can make or mar one another’s peace.
We can build one another up, or tear each other down.

We ask for light to see things in proportion;
and to see a little further forward on our way;
and we ask for strength, courage, and patience to walk in it.
We ask for kindness and compassion in our hearts,
to understand the needs of those who depend upon us. (pause)

And in a few minutes of quietness now, let us seek a higher perspective, a longer view;
starting right where we are, let us shift our awareness ever outward, in radiating circles of concern.

Let us bring to mind those we know to be struggling this day – perhaps including ourselves –
those friends and family we hold dearest – our neighbours in community –
others around the globe we may only have heard about on the news.
And let us take time to send prayers of loving kindness to all who suffer. (pause)

Let us look back over the last week, taking time to notice what was good, to count our blessings –
all the ways in which others helped or encouraged us, inspired or delighted us –
all the goodness and beauty we have known even in the mist of struggle.
And let us take time to give prayers of thanks for all we have been given. (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: ‘Blue Boat Home’ sung by Kensington Unitarians

Time to sing. Our first hymn is a long-standing favourite of this congregation: ‘Blue Boat Home’ (and indeed it’s a recording of the congregation singing from a few years ago). 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.

Though below me, I feel no motion standing on these mountains and plains.
Far away from the rolling ocean still my dry land heart can say:
I’ve been sailing all my life now, never harbour or port have I known.
The wide universe is the ocean I travel and the earth is my blue boat home.

Sun my sail and moon my rudder as I ply the starry sea,
leaning over the edge in wonder, casting questions into the deep.
Drifting here with my ship’s companions, all we kindred pilgrim souls,
making our way by the lights of the heavens in our beautiful blue boat home.

I give thanks to the waves upholding me, hail the great winds urging me on,
greet the infinite sea before me, sing the sky my sailor’s song:
I was born upon the fathoms, never harbour or port have I known.
The wide universe is the ocean I travel, and the earth is my blue boat home.

Reading: ‘Clubhouse’ by Jane Ellen Mauldin (read by Juliet)

Working late one afternoon, I forgot that it was my turn to drive my son and another boy to gymnastics. We could still make it, if only I could find Ben. When I drove to the neighbour’s house where he was supposed to be playing, he and his buddy were nowhere to be found.

“Maybe they’re at the clubhouse!” suggested my daughter Liz.

The clubhouse? What clubhouse? (Mothers are often the last to know about these things.) Liz directed me down a winding gravel road that ended in a vacant lot. She pointed. “There they are!”

I looked out into a partly timbered lot of weeds, grass, and a few scrub trees, lit like gold in the autumn sun. There among the trees I glimpsed two boys bounding like gazelles.

It seems the children have discovered a spot under a fallen tree which, when walled with carpet scraps and roofed with leafy branches, has become a secret place, a “clubhouse” for adventurers, princesses, and pirates. In and around it, they can jump, grow, leap, and fly to new and wonderful places unpopulated by parents and other extraneous adults. Peter Pan would be right at home.

My children tend to make clubhouses wherever they can. The last one that I knew about was on top of our bicycle shed. They placed a ladder against the side and climbed up, hoisted a plastic slide to the ten-foot-high roof, and covered it with a tarpaulin. Voila, instant clubhouse! One serious drawback, however, was that our two-year-old climbed up one day and made herself at home when no-one was looking. After she was discovered, and rescued, and after I finished hyperventilating from anxiety, I called an end to the clubhouse at that particular location.

Forever undaunted, the children have made a better clubhouse in the vacant lot. And when something happens to that one, they will find another. They naturally seek to create that kind of place people the world over long for, a safe and beautiful haven where their spirits can roam free.

Each of us needs a clubhouse, a place where we can be at home, where we can gather with other dreamers and adventurers. A home, a church, or a bench in the city park can be a clubhouse. The people in a real clubhouse do not ask us to adapt so much as to dream, not of the world as it is, but of the world as it should be.

Meditation: ‘Where the Heart Was’ by Jess Reynolds

Thank you Juliet. We’ve come to a time of meditation. To take us into stillness, I’m going to offer a poem from Jess Reynolds called ‘Where the Heart Was’, which explores this question of when and where and with whom we have felt ‘at home’. Maybe after you’ve heard the poem you can reflect on that question for yourself – when, or where, or with whom do you feel ‘at home’ – in a few minutes of shared stillness during which we’ll have our virtual chalice on screen. The silence will end with a gentle song from Marilisa. 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. This is ‘Where the Heart Was’ by Jess Reynolds.

I wrote home
on my grocery list
yesterday, below
eggs and milk
and orange juice.
As if I could find it
as easily as butter,
white capital letters
on a hanging sign:
DAIRY. AISLE 12.
I have had homes
in too many places
to count: a red chair,
a beach in winter,
a too-big sweatshirt
that smelled like
someone I loved.
The coffee beans
make aisle 8
smell like the kitchen
in the blue house
I grew up in,
rough and rich
and full. Is there
a home that doesn’t
smell like coffee,
like sea brine, like
someone you love?

Silence: 3 minutes silence accompanied by chalice video

Musical Interlude: ‘Homeward Bound’ performed by Marilisa Valtazanou

Interactive Sharing: ‘Home’

We’re coming towards a time in our service now for a few people, if you’d like, to share your own brief reflections on this topic of ‘Home’. While preparing for the service, I came across a few quotes on the subject of home, and I’d like to share those quotes before we move into sharing on the theme. This is something we do in our ‘Heart & Soul’ gatherings, to help us focus, before offering our own thoughts on a particular topic.

‘A home fulfils many needs: a place of self-expression, a vessel of memories, a refuge from the outside world, a cocoon where we can feel nurtured and let down our guard.’ – Clare Cooper Marcus

‘Home is a body sensation, established by a love of textures, colours, and atmospheres. Often, when we become homesick, we remember concrete events and simple sensations, and poignantly feel the absence of comforting sounds and touches.’ – Thomas Moore

‘The word home summons up a place… which you have rich and complex feelings about, a place where you feel, or did once, uniquely at home, which is to say a place where you feel you belong and which in some sense belongs to you, a place where you feel that all is somehow ultimately well even if things aren’t going all that well at any given moment.’ – Frederick Buechner

‘Home is not where you live, but where they understand you.’ – Christian Morganstern

You might want to think back over the readings in today’s service: Juliet’s reading about the ‘clubhouse’ as a place we feel at home and a ‘safe… haven where our spirits can roam free’. Or the meditation poem from Jess Reynolds remembering the sense of home they’d found in ‘a red chair, a beach in winter, a too-big sweatshirt that smelled like someone I loved.’

So we’ve got about ten minutes now to share our reflections on the theme. What does it mean to you to feel ‘At Home’ in a particular place, or with a person or group of people, in a community? Do you perhaps feel a sense of unsatisfied longing for home, or a longing to belong, to feel at home in a place or a community? Does ‘home’ have a spiritual meaning for you? As I say at Heart and Soul – ‘tangents are always welcome’ – don’t worry about following on from what the last person has said or trying to make it all join up logically! I invite you to share from your centre to the centre of the gathering – think of it as an offering – not a discussion or debate. If anyone would like to speak please put your hand up and I’ll call on you & spotlight you. I want you to be able to share whatever you’re moved to share and also I’m mindful of time so maybe a couple of minutes each? By default we will leave this bit in the recording so if you join in but don’t want to be included in the video that goes online please have a word with me straight after the service and I’ll edit you out.

(invite people to speak – won’t have time for everyone – may continue after)

If nobody else wants to speak I’ll bring this time to a close now and perhaps I’ll share just one last quote, a few brief words by Erwin McManus, who wrote: ‘Home is ultimately not about a place to live but about the people with whom you are most fully alive. Home is about love, relationship, community, and belonging, and we are all searching for home.’ Amen.

Hymn: ‘When Our Heart is in a Holy Place’ sung by the Unitarian Music Society

Our final hymn today is ‘When Our Heart is in a Holy Place’ – I wonder if that’s another way of thinking about ‘home’ – perhaps, when our heart is in a ‘holy place’, home is not so much about some particular geographical location or another – home as a state of mind and heart. Once again this recording is made by the Unitarian Music Society – do sing along at home.

When our heart is in a holy place,
When our heart is in a holy place,
We are bless’d with love and amazing grace,
When our heart is in a holy place.

When we trust the wisdom in each of us,
Ev’ry color ev’ry creed and kind,
And we see our faces in each other’s eyes,
Then our heart is in a holy place.

When we tell our story from deep inside,
And we listen with a loving mind,
And we hear our voices in each other’s words,
Then our heart is in a holy place.

When we share the silence of sacred space,
And the God of our Heart stirs within,
And we feel the power of each other’s faith,
Then our heart is in a holy place.

Announcements:

Just a few announcements this morning: Thanks to Maria for co-hosting, to Marilisa for singing, and everyone who contributed to our sharing in today’s’ service. 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 ‘Teachers’.

Our service next Sunday will be a hybrid gathering – you can come along to the church in-person or join us online as usual – and it’ll be more-or-less hybrid every week from here on in. If you’re planning to come along in person please do check your emails before setting out on Sundays as there’s always an outside chance that we’ll need to revert to online if the leader or host is unwell.

I want to remind you about 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. Specifically, this is how about we make sure people who can only attend online and people who are mainly attending in person can continue to interact on a regular basis and feel like one united congregation. 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 in touch with members who don’t do Zoom please do encourage them to contact us 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 Kathy A Huff and Martha L Munson

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.

Our together may have ended, but our connection to each other, and this community remains.
We extinguish the chalice here that it might glow gently in our hearts.
May it light your path as you leave this gathering.
May it guide your way until we are together again.

Together may we walk the path of justice,
speak words of love, live the selfless deed,
tread gently upon the earth, and fill the world with compassion.

Until we meet again, go well everyone, and blessed be. Amen.

Closing Music: ‘Gentle Arms of Eden’ performed by Marilisa Valtazanou

Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall

28th August 2022