How We Spend Our Days – 23/4/23
Musical Prelude: Waltz after Lasse in Lyby arranged by Danish String Quartet – performed by the Kyan Quartet
Opening Words: ‘This Hour of Worship’ by Carolyn S. Owen-Towle (adapted)
Let us enter into this hour of worship –
this time and space dedicated to
all that is most worthy in this life,
the depths and the heights of it all –
let us give our undivided attention
to what really matters, just for a while.
Come, bringing all of who you are –
all your busy thoughts and big emotions,
your complications and your contradictions –
rest and quiet your week-worn spirit, for you are here
to touch again eternal springs of hope and renewal.
Calm your hurried, harried, pace –
and claim this precious chance to find perspective –
for this hour let the cares, the fretfulness and worry be set aside.
Forgive yourself—you are so very worthy of moving on,
of making new efforts, of trying again – it’s a new day.
And know that you are not alone in all this.
There is strength and caring support for you here.
You will find comfort and kindness if you but ask. Look around.
You are a part of this community, if you choose it. And you can make it what you will.
So let us join our hearts together as we enter into this precious hour of worship. (pause)
Words of Welcome and Introduction:
These opening words, by Carolyn Owen-Towle, welcome all who have gathered this morning for our Sunday service. Welcome to those of you who have gathered in-person at Essex Church and also to all who are joining us via Zoom from far and wide. For anyone who doesn’t know me, my name is Jane Blackall, and I’m ministry coordinator with Kensington Unitarians.
Today’s service is titled ‘How We Spend Our Days’ – it’s inspired by a quote from Annie Dillard – she famously wrote: ‘‘How we spend our days is… how we spend our lives.” It’s another angle on a question that underpins a lot of what we do together here at church: “How, then, shall we live?” So this morning we’ll be reflecting on that question – how shall we live? – one day at a time.
Before we go any further though, let’s take the time to truly arrive, and ground ourselves in the here and now. We’ve each chosen to come here, and join together, for this hour of spiritual nourishment. To set time aside from the rest of the week and all its demands and reflect on what matters most. So let’s set aside whatever we might have come in carrying, whatever is weighing on us this day, we can afford to put it to one side for an hour, and pick it up later on if need be, or maybe we can let it go. Maybe take a breath, and breathe out with a big sigh, as you settle down into this present moment.
Chalice Lighting: ‘A Safer, Softer, Kinder Space’ by Jane Blackall
Let’s light our chalice flame now, as we do each week. This simple ritual connects us in solidarity with Unitarians and Unitarian Universalists the world over, and reminds us of the proud and historic progressive religious tradition of which we are a part.
(light chalice)
The lighting of this chalice calls us to attention –
as we focus on its flickering light for a moment
let us recall the collective intention that it represents –
to make this a safer, softer, kinder space – a place for sacred sharing –
in which we can re-connect with life’s depths and our highest aspirations –
a community of solidarity and trust to nurture and strengthen us for the days of our lives.
May this little candle be a beacon that lights the way,
guiding us through these still-uncertain times,
and inspiring each of us to paths
of peace, justice, and love.
Hymn (on sheet): ‘Here in this Moment’s Song’
Let’s sing together now. Our first hymn on your hymn sheet if you’re in church and for those joining via Zoom the words will be up on your screen to sing along at home. Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer as we sing: ‘Here in this Moment’s Song’.
Here in this moment’s song / great symphonies are sung;
all people we contain, / ageless, though old or young:
in passing words and melody / we celebrate eternity.
Thus, in each moment small / we can contain all hours;
in everyone the All / expresses and empowers;
each person great, a living world / from whom uniqueness is unfurled.
Hope shall admit no bounds, / as love no limit knows;
each new-born dream made real / in our commitment grows;
the possible, the yet-to-be / is now, is here, is you and me.
Candles of Joy and Concern:
Each week when we gather together, 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 an opportunity now, for anyone who would like to do so, to light a candle and say a few words about what it represents. This time we’re going to go to the people in the building first, and take all of those in one go, and then I’ll call on the people on Zoom to come forward.
If you want to come up and share a joy or a concern we ask you to go to the free standing microphone. If you want to take your mask off to do this you now can, though you don’t have to, and I’ll take care of the actual lighting of the candle for you over here. Please do still get up close to the microphone as that will help everyone hear (including the people at home). You can take the microphone out of the stand if it’s not at a good height for you – it’s still going to be important to speak up – and have the microphone pointing right at your mouth. Thank you.
(in person candles)
And if that’s everyone in the room we’ll go over to the people on Zoom next – you might like to switch to gallery view at this stage – just unmute yourselves when you are ready and speak out – and we should be able to hear you and see you up on the big screen here in the church.
(zoom candles)
And I’m going to light one more candle, as we often do, to represent all those joys and concerns that we hold in our hearts this day, but which we don’t feel able to speak out loud. (light candle)
Time of Prayer & Reflection: based on words by Laura Horton-Ludwig & Hilary Allen
And let’s take those joys and concerns into an extended time of prayer now. This prayer is based on some words by Laura Horton-Ludwig & Hilary Allen.
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)
We are here, this day, because we know that what we do with our life matters.
We are here because we know the choices we make each day matter.
That with every act of kindness or meanness, courage or fear, love or hate,
we are weaving the fabric of the universe that holds us all.
We are here, this day, because we need encouragement.
Because we need strength. Because so often, we get distracted.
We get in a rush, we don’t think, we sometimes choose the easy way
when the hard path of integrity may be what our spirits truly long for.
We are here, this day, because none of us is infallible or perfect,
but together we inspire one another. To try again. To take another step.
We are here because we have felt the stirrings of love and grace
in our hearts and hands, and we crave more of that shining life,
for ourselves and not only for ourselves: for everyone! (short pause)
In a few moments of shared stillness now, let us call to mind those people and situations who are on our hearts this morning, thinking of all those issues that concern us close to home, and those troubled places the world over, and let us hold them gently in loving-kindness. (pause)
And let us hold ourselves in loving-kindness too. Each of us carries our own private burdens.
Life is tough for so many right now. It can be hard to make it through the daily struggles.
So let us rest in self-compassion now as we ask silently for what we need this day. (pause)
And let us take a moment to reflect on the week just gone in a spirit of gratitude; let us notice and give thanks for those blessings, large or small, that have helped to lift our weary spirits.
Maybe we can prepare our hearts to notice life’s goodness in the week ahead. (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 we 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 (on sheet): ‘The Harvest of Truth’
Let’s sing together now. This is a lovely hymn, with slightly old-fashioned words, ‘The Harvest of Truth’. It really fits our theme today as it speaks of how we might aspire to live well each day. I don’t think it’s one we’ve done recently so I’ll ask Andrew to play a verse through before we join in singing. The hymn is on the other side of your hymn sheet, if you’re in the building, and the words will be up on screen in a moment. Once again feel free to stand or sit as you prefer.
O live each day and live it well –
All else is life but flung away:
Who lives a life of love can tell
Of true things truly done each day.
Be what thou seemest live thy creed;
Hold up to earth the torch divine;
Be what thou prayest to be made;
The thirst for righteousness be thine.
Fill up each hour with what will last;
Use well the moments as they go;
Into life’s soil thy seed is cast —
Thy deeds into a harvest grow.
Sow truth, if thou the true wouldst reap;
Who sows the false shall reap the vain;
Erect and sound thy conscience keep,
From hollow words and deeds refrain.
Sow love, and taste its fruitage pure;
Sow peace, and reap its harvest bright;
Sow sunbeams on the rock and moor,
And find a harvest-home of light.
Reading: ‘A Common Day’ by Gordon McKeeman (adapted) (Sonya to read)
Over thirty years ago the Japanese Emperor Hirohito died. I wondered then, and I wonder occasionally even now, what his life must have been like. He did not choose to be Emperor; it was an accident of birth, a hereditary position. All accounts of his life describe him as retiring and shy, most at home in a biological laboratory studying various marine species. He wrote several books on the subject. As Emperor he had little actual power and enormous symbolic power.
Hirohito said once that his fondest dream was to live just one day as a common person. His fondest dream!
Most of us live the Emperor’s dream day after day. It may never occur to us that we are the daily recipients of what the Emperor could only vainly hope to have: a day as a common person. A common day replete with common things, the kind of things we take so for granted:
• Sleeping and waking again to a new day.
• Performing simple chores: dressing, making the bed, eating breakfast.
• Reading (or seeing) the world’s new terrors and torments, tragedies, and triumphs.
• Doing ordinary work, whose impact is largely unfathomable, but would be missed by someone if it were not done: laundry, cleaning, meal preparation.
• Looking out upon the ordinary world, breathing the air, drinking the water, enjoying children at play, marvelling at the beauty of flowers, the vastness of the sky, the gutsy heroism of everyday people.
• Remembering loved ones near and far: those who have been our teachers; our companions and acquaintances; our benefactors and beneficiaries; our neighbours, even our ancestors, who lived through common days, mostly hard, and occasionally tolerable or easy.
• Calling to mind those who bequeath colour, fragrance, and texture to each common day.
• Recalling the vast fabric of love and labour performed day and night by those unknown to us, who make our lives easier.
• And a thousand more unmentioned blessings.
Today is one common day, one (more) chance to be fully alive. Welcome to it!
Meditation: ‘Time’ by Lynn Ungar
Thanks Sonya. We’re moving into a time of meditation now. I’m going to share a poem by Lynn Ungar, simply titled ‘Time’, which uses some imagery from the natural world to help us reflect on the passing of the days. We’ll take those words into a few minutes of silence which will end with the sound of a bell. And then we’ll hear a well-known tune from the quartet. So let’s each do what we need to do to get comfortable – adjust your position if you need to – perhaps put your feet flat on the floor to ground and steady yourself – or close your eyes. As we always say, the words and music are just an offering, feel free to use this time to meditate in your own way.
I wonder how a seed marks time,
tucked into the silent earth.
Does it scratch a tally
on the inside of its husk,
numbering the days until spring,
or does everything fade
into a passing blur without
the dance of bees and the
steady tick of sun across the sky?
And what about the dormant summer grass,
lying golden under the sun?
Is it passive through the drought,
or are unseen roots searching thirstily
for remembered moisture?
I know how the sunflower
turns its bright head,
oriented through the hours.
But what of the birds
who are waiting for its seeds
to ripen, or for whatever it is
that sets them on their migratory way?
Do they have some internal calendar
with days marked in red, or do they move
through a blur of time,
forgetting appointments, neglecting obligations,
or so lost in the work of the day
that dusk goes unnoticed,
and it is suddenly dark?
Are they lost, or are they
simply listening to the earth
as it chants, low and slow:
Now this. Now this. Now this.
Period of Silence and Stillness (~3 minutes) – end with a bell DING
Musical Interlude: ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ by Harold Arlen – performed by the Kyan Quartet
Address: ‘How We Spend Our Days’
There’s a short quotation, by the author Annie Dillard, which I first heard many years ago. It floats through my mind every now and then, though it’s one of those sayings where the more I think about it, the less certain I am what she actually meant by it. See what you think. As I said at the top of the service, this is the quotation which inspired today’s theme. Annie Dillard said:
‘How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.
What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing.’ (pause)
(repeat) ‘How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives’. (pause)
I wonder what reaction arises in you as you hear those words? I find it’s a saying that can strike me as being either quite challenging, or quite comforting, depending on the mood I’m in.
One day I can hear it as ‘Look at all these opportunities you have to shape your own life’s meaning! Each new day is a fresh chance to do something worthwhile and leave your mark on the world’. Another day it sounds more like ‘what are you even doing with your life? Wasting the days away…’ The way I react to it is almost like an ink-blot test which reveals my underlying state of mind. (pause)
‘How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives’. It’s such a short quotation but one that’s packed with paradox, I reckon, one which hints at the tension there is, in all our lives, between doing and being.
A question which occurs to me, one for each of us to ponder in our own heart, is this: How would we want to spend our life? Or, to put it another way, perhaps: What do we hope our life’s legacy will be? What meaning will we have made of it all? What was it all for? When we get to the very end – if we have a chance to look back on how we’ve spent all those days, how we’ve spent this one precious life on earth we’ve been given – I wonder, what do we hope it will all have amounted to? And there’s a further, clarifying, question: How does our life’s path line up with what might be required of us – by God, the world, the cosmos – what we might be called to do with our lives for the sake of something greater than ourselves? For some, perhaps, this is the ultimate guiding principle for how we choose to spend our lives.
(I know these are tough questions – ones that we might wrestle with for the rest of our days!)
One of the things we can take from Annie Dillard’s words is a reminder that if we have ambitious aspirations for our lives – whether we dream of playing at the Albert Hall, or writing a literary masterpiece, or helping to bring about a political revolution, or whatever it might be that our heart most desires – we can’t keep putting it off until tomorrow if we want to make those dreams a reality. We ought to be doing something towards our cherished goals today – even if it’s a very very little something – because the now, this moment, is all we’ve got, and our lives all too soon get away from us. As Annie Dillard says, ‘What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing.’
Whether we’re striving to make a particularly big splash in the world, or not, we will all leave a legacy of some sort when our time is up, and what it amounts to will emerge out of how we have chosen to spend our days. And I should say: making our lives meaningful is not primarily about making the headlines and seeking status with your great achievements of course. Think, instead, about the legacy of love and caring you might leave – by raising a family, helping to organise a community, standing up for people who are downtrodden and discriminated against, tending a little plot of land – you might not win a Nobel prize in the process but it will still add up to a life very well spent.
As Wayne Muller puts it, in the words on the front of your order of service, which for those joining online can be found with the rest of the text of the service on our website: ‘A life is made of days. Each day is an opportunity to say something honestly, to make something more beautiful, to create something precious, to give a gift only we can provide for the family of the earth. To dedicate a single act to the healing of others is a day well lived.’ Words from Wayne Muller.
So how we choose to spend each hour that’s at our disposal is deeply significant. But I should say, I’m conscious that not all of us have that much freedom to choose, in our present society, being constrained by factors such as health, finances, perhaps excessively long working hours and caring responsibilities – but how we each choose to spend those hours in which we do have some freedom and agency is crucial. We all have gifts and insights to contribute towards the greater good and we can often find some way to contribute in the place where we are. The world is full of seemingly endless need; there’s no shortage of worthwhile work to be done.
BUT…. Life is not all about doing. And it’s important to remember this, especially as people of faith. We live in a society where human worth all too often seems, shamefully, to be measured solely in terms of a person’s productivity. Here, though, in this church, the message is radically different: every single human has inherent worth and dignity; we are worthy and beloved no-matter-what. Yes, there’s no end of work to be done – sacred and holy work for the healing of the world too – but in striving to follow their calling, fulfil their potential, or meet the world’s endless need, people often neglect to look after themselves properly, and risk burnout. We are worth more than that. There can be a sort of violence embedded in this fervent drive for achievement and productivity even when it seems to arise from the best of intentions or seems to be in aid of a good cause. Of course we should aspire to make a positive mark on the world, leave it better than we found it. But, in a paradoxical way, it both matters and doesn’t matter what we choose to do with our life.
We might feel down on ourselves for not making enough of a difference in a desperate world, for not acting in ways that are as kind, or loving, or creatively brilliant as we might have wished. But ultimately we don’t have to do anything at all to deserve cosmic love. We just have to be.
I still wonder, though, if there’s a dynamic balance to be found between doing and being. Between work and rest. Striving for self-improvement and accepting yourself just-as-you-are. Maria Popova, writer and curator of the excellent ‘Marginalian’ blog on all things artistic and philosophical, describes this as ‘the existential tension between presence and productivity’.
Ariane Kessel, a life coach, has also reflected on the implications of Annie Dillard’s words. She makes the observation that, if you don’t consciously keep an eye on this dynamic balance, you are likely to veer off in one of two directions: you can find yourself engaging in lots of productive activity towards achieving your goals (but neglecting relationships and self-care) OR you can pay proper attention to self-care and relationship-maintenance (but wander off and spend much of your remaining time on slightly random, often compulsive, activities which don’t really support or align with your long-term intentions as to what your life is all about). For Kessel, it seems, the ideal balancing act would result in a daily life aligned with your cosmic sense of purpose whilst also being grounded in proper care of self-and-others.
I don’t think she’s saying this is easy! It will take mindfulness, intention, and commitment to notice which way we’re veering at any given moment, and course-correct as necessary. Over the years I’ve signed up for all manner of mailing lists and each morning there are at least half a dozen motivational and inspirational emails competing for my attention. And I recently noticed that they’re split roughly fifty-fifty: about half of them are biff-bang-pow motivational messages about how to be more productive and get seventeen things ticked off your to-do list before breakfast – in my case that is never going to happen! – but the other half you might say are more spiritually oriented messages reminding me to be less productive, to do nothing, to take time out, to just be.
Because there’s something to be said for saying ‘no’ to all purposeful activity, at least for a while, so we can truly say ‘yes’ to making space for reconnection, rest and renewal – knowing that this restorative fallow time will most likely help us rediscover our enthusiasm and oomph that we have something more to give when we’re back ‘on the clock’ once again. Maybe it will even enable us to return to our responsibilities with a greater sense of joy and purpose. Dillard herself speaks up for habit, routine, and daily rhythm, all necessary stabilising structures which build in protected time for both work and rest, doing and being, productivity and presence.
Another writer, Laura Schadler, reflects on her own life in the light of Dillard’s words. She writes:
‘I start to wonder what exactly it is I’m doing with this hour and that, and if it’s really
how I want to spend my life. When I worry about my hours it’s my use of
technology I immediately turn to for critique and ritualized rejection.
Yet, I’ve come to realize it’s much more about habits, thoughts, intention and energy.
It’s about mindfulness. In many ways it’s no better use of your hours to be
wilfully out of touch, or non-participatory, a luddite or a hermit.
Those inclinations bring their own set of issues and challenges.
Still, (she continues), when I think of the hours that equal my life I want to be careful.
It’s true we need down time, guilty pleasures, bad habits and superficial indulgences.
I’m a huge fan of having an eclectic mix of interests and pursuits.
We need to text back and forth in silly emojis.
We need to connect or retreat at certain times for a gajillion reasons.
A life can’t be all one way, or all another. It’s countless tiny, moving parts.
But Annie Dillard’s assertion is a meditative reminder that
we need to keep the balance in our life more heavily geared toward
the beautiful, the sincere, the focused, the real-life connected, the tangible,
the creative, the political, the adventurous, the strange, the engaged and attentive.’ (pause)
Words from Laura Schadler. So as we draw to a close I invite you to ponder for a moment your own life. How do you spend your days? How do you feel about the balance between presence and productivity? Maybe the balance has shifted this way and that over the course of a lifetime.
And is there something you love to do, or which you dream of doing, which isn’t happening in your life right now, because there doesn’t seem to be the necessary space and time for it? Are you, perhaps, too caught up in worldly demands to give yourself to what matters most? What is it you want to leave behind – when all’s said and done – what legacy of love and caring? Might you consider changing things up, re-prioritising, making time for it while you still can?
And do you have a way of regularly checking-in-with-yourself – A few moments of daily prayer, or journalling perhaps – to reflect on your doing and being? You might find it helpful to set aside time at the end of each day to review and relish it; to remember with gratitude your joys and pleasures, and celebrate your achievements; to notice how you have spent your day and how you’ve done at the daily balancing act. And then – hand it over to God, as the saying goes – knowing that you are loved regardless.
I’d like to close now with some words by Vanessa Rush Southern which speak to the push-and-pull between productivity and presence. May they serve as a blessing for the days to come.
So much undone. So much to do. So much to heal in us and the world…
[But] If your body won’t do what it used to, for right now let it be enough.
If your mind won’t stop racing or you can’t think of the [right] word, let it be enough…
You are part of the plan for this world’s salvation, of that I have no doubt.
The world needs its oceans of people striving to be good… but, some days, we just won’t feel up to the task. So rest, then, as you must… Rest in [this place] made to hold weary lives in space,
carved out for the doing of nothing much, but being.
Perhaps then you will feel in your bones, in your weary heart,
the aching, healing sense that this is enough. And that we are enough.
May it be so for the greater good of all. Amen.
Hymn 79 (purple): ‘In this Time on Earth We’re Given’
Time for our last hymn, it’s number 79 in your hymn books, a stirring tune, and the words will also be up on screen as usual: ‘In This Time on Earth We’re Given’. Again feel free to sit or stand as you wish.
In this time on earth we’re given
each to have a life to live.
May we make it nearer heaven
by our deeds and what we give.
May we see that acts of kindness,
gifts of love that never cease
help the world cast off its blindness
bring to all the hope of peace.
By God’s hand we were created
of the greater plan a part.
Long o’er due the world has waited
for the human hand and heart.
Suffering we’ll try to vanquish.
From our hearts all malice take.
Gladness, joy instead of anguish,
harmony, not discord, make.
Sharing of News, Announcements, Introductions
Thanks to Sonya for reading today. Thanks to Ramona for tech-hosting and Maria and Charlotte for co-hosting at home. Thanks to our guest musicians the Kyan Quartet – Sydney, Naomi, Wanshu and Simon – for lovely music and Andrew for accompanying our hymns. For those of you who are here in-person, David will be serving coffee, tea, biscuits (and apple and sultana cake) in the hall after the service, if you want to stay for refreshments – thanks David and thanks to Patricia for greeting today. There’s loads of cake so even if you can’t stay around please do ask for a slice to take away!
We have various small group activities for you to meet up during the week. There are still spaces left for our Heart and Soul contemplative spiritual gatherings (online Sunday/Friday at 7pm) and this week’s theme is ‘Generosity’. I’ll be leading that tonight, Rita is going to lead it next Friday.
Next week’s service will be on the theme of ‘Hospitality of the Heart’ and it’ll be led by good friend of the congregation Michael Allured, minister with Golders Green. After next week’s service Margaret will be offering her singing class, that’s free of charge, as it’s the last Sunday of the month.
(invite Patricia to remind people about the vote)
I’m about to go on holiday so you won’t see me now for a few weeks! I’ll be back in mid-May. Thanks to everyone who’s holding the fort while I take an extended break to do some gardening.
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.
I think that’s everything. Just time for our closing words and closing music now.
Benediction: based on words by Vincent Silliman
A day, yes another day –
This day is ours:
Its beauty, its promise,
Its weight of sorrow and disappointment,
The brightness of its opportunity for doing and achieving,
Of its opportunity for the deepening of love and understanding.
This day is ours, even as we make it ours
By the readiness and warmth of our appreciations,
For from it we shall receive according to the measure of our giving.
Let the giving be of ourselves, and from the heart.
May there be laughter in this day, and if there be tears, then generous tears.
Another day? Ah, yes – a day.
And may we use it wisely and well, for the greater good of all. Amen.
Closing Music: ‘Five Sheep, Four Goats’ arranged by Danish String Quartet – performed by the Kyan Quartet
Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall
23rd April 2023
