End of an Era – 23/07/23
Musical Prelude: (piano – Peter Crockford)
Opening Words: ‘We Join as One Community’ by Angela Herrera (adapted)
We gather in reverence for what is holy this day
Bringing many names for the sacred.
From our common journey,
We join as one community,
One body of people,
Standing on the side of love.
Among us: the weary, the sick, the heartbroken,
The joyful, the light of heart, the brave.
One people, in one circle of life,
Moved by the same spark.
In unity together,
we answer a call of justice,
speaking out against oppression,
reaching out to a wider world that
teaches us, humbles and heals us,
as we work to heal it.
We give thanks for this call, O Love, Our Source,
Though it is not always easy.
We arrive through these doors with many private burdens,
With secrets and regrets.
We are in need of forgiveness
And in danger of despair.
A greater spirit, a greater story, moves in this place,
One in which our world may be reborn
Again and again anew
Because the sacred dwells among us,
And blesses our yearning for wholeness.
Let us have the courage to go out into the world and change it,
To bring the world into ourselves, and be changed.
Let us speak out with courage,
And act with compassion.
May our journeys—of the spirit, and of mission—
always be life‐affirming, and for justice;
However we may know you—
As God, as Truth, as Love—
Let them be in your name.
Words of Welcome and Introduction:
These opening words by Angela Herrera welcome all who have gathered this morning for our Sunday service. Welcome to those of you who have gathered in-person at Essex Church – how lovely to see friends old and new – and 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 Minister with Kensington Unitarians.
This morning’s we’re holding a special service which we’ve given the title ‘The End of an Era’. We’re gathered here to celebrate Harold Lorenzelli’s five decades of loyal service at Essex Church – five decades of sharing his musical gifts with our congregation – on the occasion of his retirement from that role. And we’re also, belatedly, giving Sarah Tinker the ‘retirement do’ she missed out on, after fifteen golden years of ministry with Kensington Unitarians. Thankfully we’ve still seen plenty of Sarah since she officially stepped down at the end of 2020, but it’s good to mark such a significant transition, and show our gratitude for someone who has played such a big part in our ongoing story.
Chalice Lighting: ‘We Carry the Flame’ by Douglas Taylor
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)
SARAH: Across the generations we have carried the flame.
We fought the injustice, sang the songs,
spoke for truth, and built something lasting.
We join in the line and we carry the flame forward.
JANE: Across the generations we are tending the flame.
Hand in hand together we share in the work of
fighting injustice, singing the songs, speaking the truth
And we are here to build something lasting.
We join in the line and we carry the flame forward
SARAH: Across the generations we have been nourished by this flame.
We are singing new songs, breaking old barriers, sharing in the work
And as we find our own space in what has been,
we are here to make space for the next person as well
We join in the line and we carry the flame forward.
JANE: Across the generations, this flame comes to us.
We are here for the songs, for the justice, for the community sharing the work
We are here now, too, to build something new and lasting.
We are ready for a new day together.
We join in the line and we carry the flame forward.
Hymn (on sheet): ‘Forward Through the Ages’
Let’s sing together now. Our first hymn is on your hymn sheet if you’re in the building ‘Forward Through the Ages’ – 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.
Forward through the ages in unbroken line,
Move the faithful spirits at the call divine:
Gifts in differing measure, hearts of one accord,
Manifold the service, one the sure reward.
Forward through the ages in unbroken line,
Move the faithful spirits at the call divine.
Wider grows the kingdom, reign of love and light;
For it we must labour, till our faith is sight.
Prophets have proclaimed it, martyrs testified,
Poets sung its glory, heroes for it died.
Forward through the ages in unbroken line,
Move the faithful spirits at the call divine.
Not alone we conquer, not alone we fall;
In each loss or triumph, lose or triumph all.
Bound by God’s far purpose, in one living whole,
Move we on together to the shining goal.
Forward through the ages in unbroken line,
Move the faithful spirits at the call divine.
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.
So I invite some of you here in person to come and light a candle and then if you wish to tell us briefly who or what you light your candle for. Please do 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 and have it microphone pointing right at your mouth. And if you can’t get to the microphone give me a wave and I’ll bring it over to you. 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 Maureen Killoran
And let’s take those joys and concerns into an extended time of prayer now. This prayer is based on some words by Maureen Killoran. 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)
Spirit of Blessing, be with us, in the ordinariness of our days.
May hope’s light guard us and keep cynicism from our hearts.
May the energy of laughter build endurance for the tough times of our lives.
May creativity’s vision grant the possibility of seeing old relationships with new eyes.
May the oil of healing keep us from anger’s hardness or despair.
May the mantle of humility give us courage to admit when we are wrong.
May compassion’s loom weave in us the discipline to forgive.
May patience help us bear in mind that ours is not the only scale of time.
May the flame of justice be a beacon for the choices we must make.
May peace be ever in us and sustain us through these stressful days.
Spirit of Blessing, be with us, in the ordinariness of our days. (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; we are all too aware of life’s struggles and hardships.
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 all those blessings, large or small, that have helped to lift our spirits.
Maybe we can prepare our hearts to receive 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 212 (purple): ‘Where My Free Spirit Onward Leads’
Let’s sing together now. Our next hymn is number 212 in your purple book: ‘Where My Free Spirit Onward Leads’. The words will also be up on screen. Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer.
Where my free spirit onward leads,
well, there shall be my way;
by my own light illumined
I’ve journeyed night and day;
my age a time-worn cloak I wear
as once I wore my youth;
I celebrate life’s mystery;
I celebrate death’s truth.
My family is not confined
to mother, mate and child;
but it includes all creatures
be they tame or be they wild;
my family upon this earth
includes all living things
on land, or in the ocean deep,
or borne aloft on wings.
The ever spinning universe,
well, there shall be my home;
I sing and spin within it
as through this life I roam;
eternity is hard to ken
and harder still is this:
a human life when truly seen
is briefer than a kiss.
Reflection by Harold Lorenzelli: Memories from Five Decades at Essex Church
Where to begin? It’s so far back in time that historians have argued over the exact time when I arrived at Essex church. It was most probably sometime in late 1971 or early 1972. I came in by the back door, as it were. An acquaintance with whom I was romantically involved at the time insisted that part of the deal included accompanying him to church on Sunday mornings. The romance floundered but not the relationship with the church which was clearly based on more solid foundations. There was a fully formed quartet at the time who sang at the weekly service, decked in dark robes, seated very formally at what Philip Larkin referred to as ‘the holy end’. The costumes matched the rather austere Victorian Gothic interior of the church that then stood on this site. Rather gloomy, as I remember, with pews and choir stalls and dark corners where members of the congregation could seek to hide from the searching eye of the minister as he intoned from his lofty pulpit. All rather forbidding. And it came to pass that the baritone, a kindly gentleman of advancing years, decided to retire which left a vacancy. I saw my chance and being a familiar face with a voice that had attracted the attention of the choirmaster and organist, one of three Davids who were to take up the post of musical director in my time, I was in. So began my long association with Essex Church. The musical diet was principally sacred music accompanied by a mighty organ. I can’t remember the source for the hymns but they were pretty traditional as far as I recall. Now, I was young but the building was not and so the decision was made to demolish the old, crumbling edifice and build the church we’re all sitting in today. This involved a period when we moved into temporary accommodation provided by St Mary Abbot’s church just down the road from here. There was no organ but our organist who was a professional musician and performed at gigs as well as teaching piano and organ owned a transportable keyboard which he would lug over every week from south London. Each week the keyboard would be set up in the hall which we had been lent …and so we survived till the new building was completed. I can’t honestly remember how long we were there….a good year or more for sure. By now we had shed the traditional robes and the only formal wear was that of the minister, a Welshman whose Gallic cadences charmed our ears. Yes, the ministers…. well, as you can imagine I’ve gone through several since my arrival…. there was Eirion, Frank, Francis, Jopie who stood in for a time as we sought a new permanent posting, Art – who all made their mark, a couple who are best forgotten and the glorious reign of our very dear Sarah. All quite different in their styles and delivery. And through it all the choir. As with the ministers, I’ve seen quite a few over the years….at least 5 or 6 sopranos, 4 or 5 mezzos, several tenors and a clutch of replacement baritones. Not to mention pianists with whom we juggled and jiggled to provide the music that has sustained both us and the congregation over the years. There have been a fair number of musical directors too though latterly we never got round to employing a full time director of music, a role which I took on somewhat reluctantly as I’m not a trained musician by any means. Still, I got through it. Lockdown was a terrible blow to the familiarities of a world which we all took so much for granted. It challenged us all in so many different ways and led to a new order. I think it was around then that I started considering my position here at church. I’d had an amazing run. My vocal contribution has flourished, I think, especially under the careful guidance of Peter to whom I now pay tribute. It’s true to say that being a member of the church and choir has provided me with a wonderful opportunity to learn and sing material that without the choir, I would never have experienced. I’ve loved the challenge of coming up with something to suit the theme of the service stretching me to include songs from the world of pop, musical comedy, satire, English song as well as the regular monthly quartet…a judicious mix of sacred and popular music. I have loved using my voice in the service of something which was bigger than me. It’s been a unique opportunity to communicate with you as a congregation. And it’s time to say goodbye. Unlike Dame Nellie Melba, I don’t believe you can go on forever…. I leave with many happy memories of collaborative music making and friendships formed over the years. I’ve chosen to finish with a song sung by my predecessor on his retirement…. In Summer Time on Bredon, by the end of which there shouldn’t be a dry eye in the house!
Song: ‘In Summertime on Bredon’ (words: AE Houseman, music: Graham Peel)
Meditation: ‘Music as a Metaphor’ by Richard S. Gilbert (adapted) (led by Jeannene)
Thanks Harold. We’re moving into a time of meditation now. I’m going to share some words, from Richard S. Gilbert, a piece called ‘Music as a Metaphor’, very fitting on this day when we look back on 50 years of music. You’re invited to take those words into a few minutes of silence, which will end with the sound of our bell. And then we’ll hear some music for meditation from our Quartet.
So let’s each do what we need to do to get comfortable, maybe putting down anything you don’t need, adjusting your position if that helps, putting your feet flat on the floor to ground and steady yourself, and maybe gently closing your eyes or softening your gaze. As always, the words and music are just an offering, please feel free to use this time, to meditate in your own way.
Richard Gilbert said, that his words, which I’m about to read, were inspired by hearing that Duke Ellington, the jazz musician, once said that when composing music, he found it was good to have limits: His regular trumpet player and trombonist, each had a certain limited range of notes in which they could play beautifully, so he had to write his music within the constraints of what his trombonist and trumpet player could do with their respective instruments. However this apparent constraint, instead of limiting him further, turned out to inspire him to create even more interesting compositions. Richard Gilbert wrote this short meditation in response: ‘Music as a Metaphor’.
We live within limits.
We compose a life out of finite time.
We sing the melody of meaning in cathedraled space,
Working out a distinctive tune.
We walk in harmony with all that is,
In cosmos and community,
Seeking to attune ourselves
With the music of the spheres,
Knowing our existence is but a single note
In a vast universal symphony.
We move in oscillating rhythms –
Now with bursts of energy,
Now with the richness of repose –
Revelling in the variety of the beat,
Stepping to our own music,
“No matter how measured or how far away”.
We live within dissonance, for concord is not guaranteed.
Often we are out of tune, inharmonious, out of step.
Yet dissonance creates it s own meaning,
Moving within the complex score,
Providing contrasts that enrich
The songs we would sing.
Yes, music is a metaphor,
for life in all its rich diversity.
Period of Silence and Stillness (~3 minutes) – end with a bell DING
Musical Interlude: ‘River in Judea’ (words: Linda Marcus, music: Jack Feldman)
Responsive Reading: ‘Out of the Womb of Stars’ by Joy Atkinson
The womb of stars embraces us; remnants of their fiery furnaces pulse through our veins.
We are of the stars, the dust of the explosions cast across space.
We are of the earth: we breathe and live in the breath of ancient plants and beasts.
Their cells nourish the soil; we build our communities on their harvest of gifts.
Our fingers trace the curves carved in clay and stone by forebears unknown to us.
We are a part of the great circle of humanity gathered around the fire, the hearth, the altar.
We gather anew this day to celebrate our common heritage.
May we recall in gratitude all that has given us birth.
Reflection by Rev. Sarah Tinker: ‘End of an Era’
‘May we recall in gratitude all that has given us birth.’
Isn’t that a great line. And an end of an era, which is how we’re describing this day of completion of Harold Lorenzelli’s marvellous five decades of singing for us here at Essex Church, an end of an era is a great time for gratitude. I’m astonished to think of all the changes that Harold has seen in our church community over those fifty years – not least of which a radical change of building here on this very site. We’ve some photos we can show you later of the old Essex Church. And if you’re online you can find a fascinating booklet about our history in the resources section of our website. Those architectural changes mirror the huge changes that have occurred – in society as a whole, in this particular area of Notting Hill in London and in religious gatherings such as ours.
Today we’re also marking the end of my ministry with Kensington Unitarians, which happened back at the end of 2020 – right in the middle of the pandemic – so we never had a farewell party. And though my days of responsibility for this congregation, and for this beautiful building, and it’s very quirky plumbing and roofing, are well and truly over, I’ll still be coming over to west London from the far east from time to time to lead services. And I’m hoping that you too Harold will grace us with your presence when your busy life allows. You will be missed.
We need to mark these transitions in our lives don’t we. I wonder what transitions you are working through at present in your own lives. Some are very public transitions – other people usually know when we are starting or ending jobs don’t they. But lots of life’s transitions are more private – the quiet ways in which we come to terms with life’s inevitable changes, that inner excitement when something new seems to be emerging for us, but it’s perhaps a bit too soon to talk to someone about it. These changes we go through can bring up so many emotions can’t they – delight can sit alongside a sense of loss, uncertainty and anticipation travel closely together. I often think of a religious community such as ours as a place where people can mark transitions – those key milestones of birth, marriage and death of course – but this is also a place where life’s other transitions are talked about andshared, a place where we can seek the assistance of others as we come to terms with change – be that a change that we’ve chosen or the more usual sort of change that just lands on us – and we have to come to terms with it.
That responsive reading we’ve just read, the womb of stars, is an old favourite of mine. It’s a healthy reminder for me of the temporary nature of everything – for our individual lives are a tiny part of a greater progression – forward through the ages, as the old hymn reminds us. When ministers leave a congregation it’s customary for them to sum up what they’ve learned through their time with the congregation. My biggest learning actually started up in Sheffield in Fulwood Old Chapel where I first discovered Unitarianism. It’s an old stone chapel building, built in 1728. And on the walls it has one of those traditional wooden panels with a list of ministers’ names and dates written in gold lettering. Funnily enough, there’s a similar list on the wall of the local bowls club, where I now attend my weekly Pilates class. But that’s a list of bowls trophy winners spanning back over the years. A list like that sums up my key learning in ministry – and that is ….. ministers come and ministers go, just like bowls trophy winners. We are all temporary. Musicians come and go. Trustees and congregation members come and go. Now this is not an invitation for us to rush for the door right now. Let’s all stay where we are – at least until it’s time for lunch.
But I do reckon it’s worth pausing a while from time to time and reminding ourselves of the temporary nature of all that exists. We are here for a while – that may be a little while or a longer while. We’re here for a while and our presence – the presence of each and every one of us matters greatly. We’re here for a while and the journey of life that each and every one of us is on is a journey unique to ourselves. I know I’m not the only one here who likes to think of life as a curriculum – a unique curriculum of learning that will help us develop and grow, will help us find new skills, will bring us companions to assist us, will provide us with challenges to work through and delights to inspire us.
And as for my personal learnings through fifteen years of ministry here at Essex Church? Well I learnt well and truly how very unfair life is – how tough some people’s life curriculums are. This church sits in the midst of a London borough that contains a huge disparity between rich and poor – a microcosm for the ever widening splits in British society. Just a mile away from us now is the tarpaulin clad Grenfell Tower – a monument to a society that does not properly take care of those most in need, a society that does not protect its citizens through proper monitoring of safety regulations, a society that is currently allowing an ever increasing divide to occur between rich and poor. So long as such divides exist there will always be work for people like us to do, people who care about justice.
After 15 years grappling with the fabric of this building I have learnt that life in this material world will always be imperfect – some toilets will always block, some roofs will always leak, some people will inevitably behave in ways we wish they wouldn’t. None of you, of course. And I’m sure you’ll know by now that any mention of imperfect people includes me. And that leads to my best learning of all from these years with Kensington Unitarians – and that’s the power of love to assist us in life’s most difficult times. A congregation of diverse people with diverse life experiences, facing diverse challenges – that’s one big opportunity for love and I’m really grateful I’ve had all these years to practice that particular skill of loving, with you.
I’ve talked about the temporary nature of existence – that musicians and ministers arrive and leave, congregation members too. But what’s lovely about churches is the way that the congregation can continue, if it’s lucky, whoever comes and goes. That continuation is made possible by people, by people who turn up on Sunday mornings, by people who volunteer, who roll up their sleeves and get involved, by people who make a commitment. So thank you all for being people who turn up in life. And extra thanks to my friend and colleague Jane Blackall who is taking the ministerial baton onwards now and who has for so many years here supported me in ministry. I could never have done it on my own.
And today an especial thank you to all our musicians and especially Harold Lorenzelli – super baritone and longtime trustee of this church. Harold will you come and have a hug, a thank you hug, and receive this card and gift – your very own night at the opera – with thanks from Kensington Unitarians here at Essex Church.
And we have your favourite hymn flying free as our closing hymn today.
Hymn 167 (purple): ‘There Is a Place I Call My Own’ (AKA ‘Flying Free’)
There is a place I call my own,
where I can stand by the sea,
and look beyond the things I’ve known
and dream that I might be free.
Like the bird above the trees,
gliding gently on the breeze,
I wish that all my life I’d be
without a care and flying free.
But life is not a distant sky
without a cloud, without rain,
and I can never hope that I
can travel on without pain.
Time goes swiftly on its way;
all too soon we’ve lost today,
I cannot wait for skies of blue
or dream so long that life is through.
So life is a song that I must sing,
a gift of love I must share;
and when I see the joy it brings
my spirits soar through the air.
Like the bird up in the sky,
life has taught me how to fly.
For now I know what I can be
and now my heart is flying free.
Announcements:
There are lots of things to give thanks for this morning! Thanks, of course, to Sarah and Harold for sharing their reflections on many years of loyal service to this community. Thanks to Ramona for tech-hosting and Charlotte for co-hosting. Thanks to Jeannene for leading our meditation. Thanks to Peter and the Quartet for today’s lovely music. For those of you who are at church in-person, things are going to be done slightly differently after the service, and we’re going to have self-service beverages here in the church prior to lunch (and cake) being served at noon. Thanks to Patricia’s friend(s) Diane (and Jan) for taking charge of lunch and to Patricia for organising it all with help from David. Thanks to Juliet and her team of helpers for greeting; thanks to Marianne for helping out with tea; For those of you who have joined online please do stick around for a chat with Charlotte.
We have various small group activities. There are still spaces left for our online Heart and Soul contemplative spiritual gatherings (Sunday/Friday at 7pm) and this week’s theme is ‘Comparison’. Looking a bit further ahead you might want to put the GreenSpirit online gathering for Lammas in your diary; that’s on Tuesday 1st August (let Sarah know if you’d like to sign up for that). And the in-person poetry group is on Wednesday 2nd (have a chat with Brian if you’d like to know more).
I want to draw your attention to a very long-range ‘save the date’: it is customary to mark the official start of a new ministry with an Induction Service and, although I’ve been here for quite a long time in various capacities, now that I’m officially appointed as Minister we’re planning to have a special service marking this mutual commitment. It won’t be until the autumn but please do get the date in your diary now: it’ll be on Saturday 14th October at 2pm. It will be hybrid as usual and we are hoping that friends from near and far will join us. If you can get here in-person the service will be followed by afternoon tea so I’ll try to make it worth your while cake-wise.
We’ll be back next Sunday will another hybrid service, that’ll be a joint effort between me and David Carter, on the theme of ‘Getting to Grips with Growth’. Details of all our various activities are printed on the back of the order of service, for you to take away, and also in the Friday email.
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: Words adapted from Rev Peter Raible
(based on the Book of Deuteronomy ch6, v10-12 – from the Hebrew Scriptures)
We build on foundations we did not lay.
We warm ourselves at fires we did not light.
We sit in the shade of trees we did not plant.
We drink from wells we did not dig.
We profit from those we have not met.
Each of us is blessed with gifts
from those who were here before us
And have gifts to pass on to others in our turn.
We are ever bound in community.
So let us go our way in gratitude
and know ourselves to be a vital part
of this living tradition as it evolves and carries on.
May it be so, for the greater good of all. Amen.
Closing Music: ‘Gaelic Blessing’
Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall, Rev. Sarah Tinker, Harold Lorenzelli
Sunday 23rd July 2023
