Say Yes to the Mess? – 6/8/23

Musical Prelude: ‘Shena Van’ – Amy Beach (played by Holly Redshaw and Peter Crockford)

Opening Words: ‘Bring Your Whole Self’ by Erika A. Hewitt (adapted)

As we enter into this time of worship,
let us put away the pressures of the world
that ask us to perform, to put on a brave face,
to pretend we’re on top of things and we’re holding it together,
to make out we’re someone other than who we truly are.

Silence those voices that ask you to be perfect.

This is a space of compassion and hospitality.
You do not have to do anything special to earn
the love and care contained within this community.

You do not have to be braver, smarter, stronger, better
than you are in this moment to belong here, with us.

You only have to bring the gift of your body, no matter how able;
your seeking and attentive mind, no matter how busy;
your tender animal heart, no matter how broken.

Bring your whole self – all that you are,
and all that you love – to this hour.
You are so very welcome here.

So, come, let us worship together.

Words of Welcome and Introduction:

These opening words – by Erika A. Hewitt – 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 (a particular welcome to the Cardiff congregation who I believe are joining us online today). Whoever you are, however you are, wherever you are, you are welcome here this morning just as you are. For anyone who doesn’t know me, my name is Jane Blackall, and I’m Minister with Kensington Unitarians.

In this morning’s service we’re going to be reflecting on the untidy side of life! There’s a quote from the much-loved meditation teacher Tara Brach which sets the tone for our explorations – it’s on the front of your order of service, if you’re here in the building, if you’re joining online you can find it with the rest of the service text on the church website – she suggests that: ‘there is something wonderfully bold and liberating about saying yes to our entire imperfect and messy life.’ So taking our cue from those words, today we’re going to consider what might happen if we ‘Say Yes to the Mess’.

Let’s take a moment before we go any further to settle ourselves, arrive, and prepare for worship. We’ve each chosen to take time out of the everyday doings of our lives to be here this morning. So let’s take a conscious breath. And another. And with each exhalation let’s visualise a letting go. A setting aside of anything we’ve come in carrying. We can pick it up later if need be. Let us bring our whole selves to the here and now, as we consecrate this hour with our presence and intention.

Chalice Lighting: ‘This Place’ by Cliff Reed (freely adapted)

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)

This community is a fellowship of the progressive path –
open-minded, open-hearted – at least, that’s our aspiration.

This is a place to share insights and ideas,
a place to foster faith and sometimes find joy,
a place where we can be ourselves, and let others do the same;
a place where we can be real about our untidy lives
and bring our confusion, our pain, our despair.

This is a place for the whole of life’s experience,
as messy as that may be; a place for healing and solace;
for solidarity and hope; for encouragement and nurture;
a place to face this life – in all its complex shadings – together.

Hymn 21 (purple): ‘Come and Find the Quiet Centre’

Let’s sing together now. Our first hymn is number 21 in your purple books – ‘Come and Find the Quiet Centre’ – it’s to a tune we sing quite often. 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.

Come and find the quiet centre
in the crowded life we lead,
find the room for hope to enter,
find the space where we are freed:
clear the chaos and the clutter,
clear our eyes, that we can see
all the things that really matter,
be at peace, and simply be.

Silence is a friend who claims us,
cools the heat and slows the pace;
God it is who speaks and names us,
knows our being, touches base,
making space within our thinking,
lifting shades to show the sun,
raising courage when we’re shrinking,
finding scope for faith begun.

In the Spirit let us travel,
open to each other’s pain;
let our lives and fears unravel,
celebrate the space we gain:
there’s a place for deepest dreaming,
there’s a time for heart to care;
in the Spirit’s lively scheming
there is always room to spare.

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 Alex Jensen

And let’s take those joys and concerns into an extended time of prayer now. This prayer is partly based on some words by Alex Jensen. 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)

Your world become, your will be done here, on Earth,
inspiring our aspirations to do and be better people.

May we have all that we need to survive, live, and thrive.

Remind us to be gentle; may we love mercy and kindness,
recalling the times when we’ve fallen short ourselves.

Call us also to be firm; may we not be tempted to follow selfish motivations
or reside in our narrow privileges, unexamined and uninterrogated;
move us to counter and overcome injustice in ourselves, our lives, and institutions.

For yours is the Beloved Community, the fire of commitment in our hearts,
and the spirit of generosity and abundance, now and always. (pause)

In our company this morning, and every time we gather in community,
there will be those whose hearts are broken open by all the world’s sufferings:
by loss and grief, rejection and loneliness, disappointment and meaninglessness,
by all the horrors and injustices of this world that we witness with anguish and frustration…
Let us spend a moment directing prayers of loving-kindness for those who suffer this day. (pause)

In our company this morning, and every time we gather in community,
there will be those whose hearts are full and overflowing, despite everything:
buoyed by the beauty of nature and culture, comforted and uplifted by family and friends,
aware of life’s many possibilities and in touch with a sense of hope and encouragement.
Let us spend a moment directing prayers of gratitude for all that is still good in our lives. (pause)

In our company this morning, and every time we gather in community,
there will be those who are simply keeping on keeping on as best they can:
their hearts a blessed, messy, blend of all life’s mixed emotions, in the midst of it all;
seeking to discern the next step, the way forward, in a sometimes complex and confusing world.
Let us spend a quiet moment asking for what we need to face all life’s ups and downs. (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 104 (purple): ‘Name Unnamed’

Let’s sing together now. Our next hymn is number 104 in the purple book: ‘Name Unnamed’. We haven’t sung this one for a while – it’s a little bit tangential to our theme – the words describe lots of different images of God – it acknowledges God’s presence in the messy, chaotic aspects of life, which we don’t sing about so often. I’ll ask Peter to play the refrain and the verse through once before we sing. The words will be up on screen as usual. Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer (it’s quite a long one in case that influences your decision!). Name Unnamed.

Name unnamed, hidden and shown, knowing and known. Gloria!

Beautifully moving, ceaselessly forming,
growing, emerging with awesome delight,
Maker of Rainbows, glowing with colour, arching in wonder,
energy flowing in darkness and light:
Name unnamed, hidden and shown, knowing and known. Gloria!

Spinner of Chaos, pulling and twisting,
freeing the fibres of pattern and form,
Weaver of Stories, famed or unspoken, tangled or broken,
shaping a tapestry vivid and warm:
Name unnamed, hidden and shown, knowing and known. Gloria!

Nudging Discomforter, prodding and shaking,
waking our lives to creative unease,
Straight-Talking Lover, checking and humbling, jargon and grumbling,
speaking the truth that refreshes and frees:
Name unnamed, hidden and shown, knowing and known. Gloria!

Midwife of Changes, skilfully guiding,
drawing us out through the shock of the new,
Woman of Wisdom, deeply perceiving, never deceiving,
freeing and leading in all that we do:
Name unnamed, hidden and shown, knowing and known. Gloria!

Daredevil Gambler, risking and loving,
giving us freedom to shatter your dreams,
Life-giving Loser, wounded and weeping, dancing and leaping,
sharing the caring that heals and redeems.
Name unnamed, hidden and shown, knowing and known. Gloria!

In-Person Reading: ‘Hiding the Mess’ by Barbara Merritt (adapted) (Hannah to read)

About six cups of raw porridge oats fell on the kitchen floor. The top had been left off the box, and the cascade of grain was impressive. I got out the broom and the dustpan and started to sweep it up, when my four-year-old asked if he could have the job. “Alright”, I said, and went on making the coffee. A minute later I looked around and saw, to my amazement, that he was studiously pushing small piles of the oats under the fridge, into the fireplace, and under the kitchen counters.

I screamed, “No! That’s not how you sweep up oats! Put them in the dustpan.” And he quietly replied that he had been “hiding” the oats. When hearing my story, my brother-in-law’s only comment was: “That apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

True. I have been known to “clean up the living room” by gathering up the piles of papers and books and putting them in the dining room instead. I have “shut doors” when company was coming rather than take the time to make a room presentable.

But later that day, I found that the instinct to “hide the mess” goes deeper than that. I was at the hairdresser, and I explained to her that I was a nervous wreck about an upcoming speech. I wanted her to give me a haircut that made me look “cool, composed, and in control.” I was hoping that the right coiffure might effectively hide my anxiety level.

Then I put my back out. My doctor suggested that it might have something to do with the stress level I was carrying around about the speech. I told him in no uncertain terms that this was a ridiculous idea. My back went because I lifted a mattress the wrong way! (How surprised I was to discover, though, that immediately after the speech, my back felt perfectly fine. Even my body knows how to hide its pain away.)

The messy side of life is normal, healthy, and part of the creative process. Nature itself is wonderfully messy. Observe the pollen and the stringy stuff that fall out of maple trees in the springtime. Daffodils are glorious but look rather bedraggled in late spring. Not all of life is pristine, beautiful, and orderly. And neither are we.

It’s alright to hide the mess – at least some of it – from the general public. Emotional overexposure is culturally acceptable these days but it does not always contribute to the common good. Everyone does not need to know everything. But we shouldn’t have to hide the mess from ourselves, or from the people who love us, those with whom we are in community. Because in what we call “the mess”, creation itself is at work. This universe, our universe, is a place of life, growth, change, spilled oats, and great confusion. And out of that odd combination, somehow, the human spirit grows.

Meditation: ‘Ducks: A Blessing’ by Katy Stenta

Thanks Hannah. We’re moving into a time of meditation now. I’m going to share a slightly unusual prayer-poem to take us into silence – it’s by Kathy Stenta and it’s called ‘Ducks: A Blessing’ – it’s a riff on the idea of ‘getting all our ducks in a row’ as a metaphor for getting organised, and tidy, and on top of all the mess of our lives (or, more to the point, it’s about not getting all our ducks in a row, as is the case for many of us). The words will take us into about three minutes of silence which will end with the sound of a bell. Then we’ll hear some lovely music from Holly & Peter to continue the meditative mood. So let’s each do what we need to do to get comfortable – adjust your position if you need to – put your feet flat on the floor to ground yourself – close your eyes. As we always say, the words and music are an offering, feel free to use this time to meditate in your own way.

‘Ducks: A Blessing’ by Katy Stenta

God knows, I don’t know where my ducks are
so they aren’t in a row.

How do I prioritize?
Everything is important
Schedules are nebulous, houses are messy, kids need attention.

God, you know, the ducks are waiting
Sometimes they quack at me in the middle of the night.

Is this how the prophets felt?
Chasing down the Wild Goose of the Holy Spirit.

Did they know their ducks would never
ever be in a row?

And that the wild birds of
Friendship, inspiration, food, silliness, etc
Would be the wild blessings of the Holy Spirit.

Blessed are the ducks,
Silly, quacking, never in a row.
Blessed are the messy houses,
the children, the imperfections
the neverending tasks of relationships and adulting
the quacking in the middle of the night.

Blessed is the struggle, for it is real.

Period of Silence and Stillness (~3 minutes) – end with a bell DING

Musical Interlude: ‘V. from ‘Six Studies in English Folk Song’ – Ralph Vaughan-Williams (played by Holly Redshaw and Peter Crockford)

In-Person Reading: ‘When Life is Messy’ by Richard S. Gilbert (read by Juliet)

It is easy to pray when the sun shines
And we are grateful for another glorious day of being.
It is hard to pray when wind and rain and thunder
Plague our every step and spoil our every plan.

It is easy to be virtuous when life goes well
And our existence is a journey from bliss to beauty and back.
It is hard to be virtuous when life assaults us
And our very being is a pilgrimage from bad to worse to worst.

It is easy to be cheerful when health bursts in us
So that we can feel the very pulse of life.
It is hard to be happy when pain and fatigue beset us
And we wonder if we can go on.

It is easy to do good when our goodness is rewarded
And we feel the power of pride in accomplishment.
It is hard to do good when we suffer for our efforts
And are troubled because we have been misunderstood.

It is easy to feel religious impulses well up inside us
When inspiration lives at our elbow and walks on our path.
It is hard to feel religious when we are tired with work to be done
And discouragement seems to mark our every move.

O God of order and neatness, we give thanks for all that is good.
We are grateful for manifold blessings bestowed upon us.
O God of chaos and disorder, be with us also when life is messy.
Bless our coming in and our going out from this day forth.

Reflection: ‘Say Yes to the Mess?’ by Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall

Thanks Juliet. The theme of this week’s service – the messy side of life – was inspired by something that happened to me last week (before I’d even changed out of my pyjamas). I was idly staring out of the kitchen window on Saturday morning, while cooking my dad’s porridge, and I noticed that the man who sweeps the street seemed to be lingering directly outside, just a couple of metres away. It was still quite early and it took me a moment to realise what was happening: the man from the council was roughly chopping off all the flowers that were billowing out through the garden fence and onto the street – Californian poppies, geraniums, salvia – all these soft frothy blooms from my little patch of cottage garden that weren’t causing any obstruction or getting in anybody’s way as far as I can tell. It’s more or less the only splash of colour and life on our street – most of the gardens have been concreted over to make space for cars – and it’s always alive with bees. I’m quietly proud of it. But it’s not exactly tidy. It’s (intentionally) left a little bit wild. It made me feel quite sad that someone felt that this little bit of wildness was not welcome on our street – it was too scruffy – and these few stray blooms breaching the boundary line should be unceremoniously lopped off. And I’ve heard many tales of verges being strimmed and hedges ripped up in the name of municipal ‘tidiness’.

This experience got me thinking about the untidy and the messy – in all spheres of our lives – and our varying degrees of tolerance of untidiness and mess – perhaps even our acceptance of it. Tidiness wars have been going on for years, in my house, between me and my dad – who is Mr. Minimalism – and who would probably quite happily live in a bare and spartan home (with a neatly mowed lawn out the back and perhaps a just few old-fashioned rosebushes arranged in an orderly fashion). By contrast… it’s not that I relish being untidy! I really like things to be orderly, I do! But by comparison to dad, I am Ms. Maximalism, and somehow I’ve ended up with the role of being ‘the messy one’. Down the years I’ve defended myself from this charge by claiming that I just ‘have a lot of interests’ – which all happen to have papers, books, equipment, and materials attached – and they take up a lot of my time and energy (which means I don’t get round to bringing order to the chaos all that often). If you’ve ever come along to any of my online services or Heart and Soul you get to see the one just-about-respectable view of my home, where all the recently acquired and as-yet-unshelved books are teetering in piles right behind my chair, so that they are just-about obscured from the camera. And while I might be able to get away with the claim that I’m rewilding my garden for the sake of the bees I don’t think anyone’s going to buy it if I say I’m rewilding my bedroom floor with a meadow of books.

Untidiness in the material sense – having a cluttered room, or a disorganised house, or a garden that’s turning to wilderness – this sort of untidiness is of course only one aspect of what we’re talking about today. The bigger picture we’re considering here is the very messiness of life itself. I wonder what that phrase brings to mind for you? Maybe social messiness – tangled relationships – complex situations arising from the interaction of fallible human beings, and flawed institutions, in an imperfect world. Or organisational messiness in your affairs – not being ‘on top of things’ or getting your ‘ducks in a row’ as the poem said. Perhaps a more general sense that nothing is quite as straightforward as you feel it ought to be. It seems to me that there is a lot of social pressure to ‘have it together’ (or at least to look like you do). And I imagine it would, in some ways, feel delightful to ‘have it together’… but that’s a state of being that feels forever out of reach to me (and I suspect I’m not alone in this regard). If anybody here today really thinks they’ve cracked it and they’ve got a tidy life perhaps you can tell us your secrets after the service! But there’s something in me that strongly suspects it is neither possible nor desirable to avoid life’s messiness altogether – there seems to be a connection between disorder and creativity – mess making space for emergence. So perhaps there is a middle way to be found.

I came across a blog post from author and therapist Lisa Olivera – she’s recently written a book on the subject of self-acceptance – and in this piece she reflects on a line from the beloved poet Mary Oliver: ‘Most things that are important, have you noticed, lack a certain neatness.’ Lisa Olivera responds: ‘… it is an obvious truth I’ve been trying to accept my whole life, yet one I often fight against. I’ve been taught to strive for neatness: for clarity, for knowing, for linear, for the 1-2-3 progression of everything, for the clean lines and clear Before and Afters and overcomings and I’m-Past-That, for the plan and the schedule and the has-it-all-together… We think we, and life, are supposed to be neat and tidy, organized and ready for the photo-op. We think the sign of readiness is a lack of tangle, a lack of messiness. We assume we’re the messed up ones if our behind-the-scenes secrets and processes and next steps don’t look as clear-cut and set in stone as they seem to for “everyone else”… Living is important; living isn’t neat… being a person is a lot more complex and complicated than those trying to sell us constant ease and tidiness want us to believe. Perhaps it isn’t ours to fix at all, but ours to welcome, embrace, accept, understand, lean into, learn from, allow.’

Words from Lisa Olivera. So, all that said, I wonder where you would place yourself, and your life, on the messiness continuum? More towards the orderly end of the spectrum… or the chaotic end? And how do you feel about the place where you situate yourself? Perhaps your life is pretty messy but it suits you that way! Or perhaps your life is pretty orderly and you long for a bit more creative disorder! Maybe there are aspects of life that you could take in hand and get more of a grip on. Maybe other areas of life are out of your control and working on a sense of acceptance could be your next step.

Often there is something we can do to make our lives at least a bit more orderly and manageable, if that’s what we’re aiming for, but constraints on our resources – time, money, energy, health, support – these constraints can make it very difficult for us to get out of whatever mess we find ourselves in. And, as an aside, let’s remember that even Marie Kondo, the renowned decluttering guru, had to let her hard-line tidiness standards slip once her kids came along! The more we are trying to juggle in life – the more projects, the more responsibilities, the more personal challenges that life brings our way – the harder it will be to keep up any semblance of order. It’s important to bear in mind the many complicating factors so many of us are contending with when we’re trying to sort our lives out.
And, crucially, let’s strive to be real with each other about what our lives are like, as far as we can. Because there’s a great deal of comfort to be found in facing life’s messy realities together.

I want to close this reflection by sharing a kind-of blessing, a kind-of affirmation, it’s taken from the piece by Lisa Olivera. Perhaps we can think of it as a prayer saying ‘Yes to the Mess’.

‘Mary Oliver said: “Most things that are important, have you noticed, lack a certain neatness.”

When I hold this as true, I care less about neat. I want to let it all be untidy.

Letting it all be untidy means dropping my ideas about how it should go
so I can more fully lean into how it’s actually going.

Letting it all be untidy means surrendering to the pace that is most true,
rather than the pace I assume will take the least amount of time or effort.

Letting it all be untidy means noticing where I’m projecting an idealized version
of the present onto the real version of it, and choosing to turn back toward the real.

Letting it all be untidy means seeing the grief and longing as intricate pieces
of the whole instead of deterrents from fully living, from growing, from thriving.

Letting it all be untidy means trusting the unpaved path, the unclear outcome,
the longing to do the thing before having clarity around how it will go.

Letting it all be untidy means looking at the pile of dishes or the unswept floor
and seeing them as visions of tending to what matters more instead of proof of inadequacy.

Letting it all be untidy means making room for setbacks and confusion,
for impatience and envy, for the things we’re told to either hide or quickly clean up.

Letting it all be untidy means allowing what is true to be true, within myself
and within my relationships and within my work and within my life.

Sometimes, what matters isn’t tidy; sometimes, what is true isn’t neat.
And perhaps that isn’t a problem as much as it is a reflection of being
more alive than I would be if I spent all my energy tidying instead of living.

May you find what’s important and let it lack a certain neatness.
May you find what matters right inside the tangle.
May you find the aliveness right inside the swirl.’

And may it be so for the greater good of all. Amen.

Hymn 83 (purple): ‘Just as Long as I Have Breath’

Time for our last hymn, number 83, ‘Just as Long as I Have Breath’. I chose this as it echoes that quote we heard earlier, from Tara Brach: ‘There is something wonderfully bold and liberating about saying yes to our entire imperfect and messy life.’ Again, stand or sit as you prefer, for hymn number 83.

Just as long as I have breath,
I must answer, “Yes,” to life;
though with pain I made my way,
still with hope I meet each day.
If they ask what I did well,
tell them I said, “Yes,” to life.

Just as long as vision lasts,
I must answer, “Yes,” to truth;
in my dream and in my dark,
always that elusive spark.
If they ask what I did well,
tell them I said, “Yes,” to truth.

Just as long as my heart beats,
I must answer, “Yes,” to love;
disappointment pierced me through,
still I kept on loving you.
If they ask what I did best,
tell them I said, “Yes,” to love.

Announcements:

Thanks to Ramona for tech-hosting and Jeannene for co-hosting. Thanks to Hannah and Juliet for reading. Thanks to Holly and Peter for lovely music. Thanks Hannah for greeting too and Patricia for doing the coffee. For those of you who are here in-person, please do hang around for a cuppa and a chat and a slice of apple and sultana cake after the service – it’s served in the hall next door. If you’re joining us online I encourage you to hang on after the service for a chat with Jeannene.

We have various small group activities throughout the week. There are still spaces left for our online Heart and Soul contemplative spiritual gatherings (Sunday/Friday at 7pm) and this week’s theme is ‘Dressing Up’. And from the autumn, we’re going to re-start a once-a-month in-person Heart and Soul here at church, that will be on the THIRD Wednesday evening from 18th October.

Looking further ahead we are planning to have our annual ‘Gathering the Waters’ service on 3rd September – this is a traditional ‘regathering’ after some of us have been gallivanting over the summer months – if you do go anywhere in the next month or so, for a holiday or a day trip, collect a little drop of water and bring it back with you (or you can always just bring some from your tap). And we’re hoping to have a bring-and-share lunch that day as well, but we need a volunteer to organise that, to sign people up to bring food, and to make sure we have a range of offerings, we’ll only have the lunch if someone steps up, so if you might be willing to do that please let me know.

I also want to draw your attention to the fact that we’re looking to recruit an audio-visual assistant to help us with video editing and tech hosting. The details were in the Friday email – we think it’s about six hours a week on average – most can be done from home but they’ll need to come in to church one Sunday a month. If you know anyone who might fit the bill please do pass the advert on.

We’ll be back next Sunday, or rather Sarah and Heidi will. 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: loosely based on words by Sarah Lammert

The worship of this gathered community is now ended.

Go in peace, embraced by the light and warmth of our gathering.
Go in love, ready to make your way in this messy and complex world.
Go in beauty, shining forth through the struggle, like a lamp for liberation.

And let us share in the ongoing worship of the community in dispersion,
taking what we have found here back out into the world,
and passing it on, for the greater good of all. Amen.

Closing Music: ‘I’ve Got Plenty O’ Nuttin’ – George Gershwin (played by Holly Redshaw and Peter Crockford)

Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall

6th August 2023