Sunday Service, 9 October 2022
Led by Rev. Sarah Tinker
Opening Music: ‘We Plough the Fields’ played by Sandra Smith
Opening Words: ‘We drink from wells we did not dig’
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 persons 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.
Words adapted from Rev Peter Raible,
based on the Book of Deuteronomy ch6, v10-12 – from the Hebrew Scriptures
Words of Welcome and Introduction:
So I welcome you to Kensington Unitarians this early autumn Sunday morning – when we gather for our annual harvest festival – a celebration of the world in which we live and an expression of our gratitude. Thank you to all who have brought items to decorate our harvest table here in the church and I know that some of you joining us from your homes via Zoom have autumn treasures with you. Special greetings to everyone who’s connecting with us from near and far online today.
We often start by reminding ourselves that people are welcome here whatever we have brought with us today – our troubles, our bubbling enthusiasms, our questions and doubts, our certainties, our worries, our possibilities – let it all be here now with us and who knows what new perspectives may emerge as we spend time together in song and silence, with stories and ideas to spark off our own. Let’s take a moment to know that we are fully here, now, to take a conscious breath of acceptance of all, acceptance of all that we are, acceptance of the changing moods of autumn weather, acknowledging life’s mysteries that are beyond our comprehension.
Chalice Lighting: ‘Determined Seed’ by Laura Wallace
As frozen earth holds the determined seed,
this sacred space holds our weariness, our
worry, our laughter and our celebration.
Let us bring seed and soul into the light
of thought, the warmth of community,
and the hope of love.
Let us be(see) together, (hear) feel together,
love together. Let us worship.
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 – do use the microphone so everyone can hear you and get nice and close in so it picks you up properly – I’ll switch that on in a moment. We’re asking people to keep their masks on for this candle lighting, but please do speak up, and GET REALLY REALLY CLOSE to the microphone, so that everyone can hear what you’re saying.
(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)
Let’s take a moment to focus on these candles and the voices we’ve heard, and the glimpses of human life that we share, our joys and sorrows weaving us together like a tapestry of community life. 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. (light candle)
Time of Prayer & Reflection:
So let’s join now in a time of prayer and reflection for our world of abundance: I call on the spirit of life and of love to be with us now and to bless all that we say and do together this day. Let us give thanks for the world of abundance in which we live and in our hearts find a silent expression of gratitude for whatever we are glad to have received in life – be these great gifts or small mercies. To give thanks is prayer from our heart. ……
We may well be all too aware of what we lack in life – for no life can have everything it wants or needs; many of us have unfulfilled yearnings that may point us in the direction of our hopes and dreams. ……. Or require us to accept that we cannot always have what we want ….
We know the great injustices of our world, the economic inequalities, the unequal distribution of the world’s resources, the lack of basic provisions for too many of the world’s people. We might think particularly of those suffering from lack of food and water in Somalia and other eastern African lands, and those whose lives have been turned upside down by floods in Pakistan. We hear the cries of those in other lands, yearning for greater freedom to be themselves, especially at this time in Iran and Afghanistan and all those caught up in conflicts involving Ukraine and Russia.
May we be the people who work to right such wrongs. May we dedicate ourselves to a fairer sharing of all that is and to every person’s right to clean water, adequate food and fresh air.
May each person have a safe place to live and a way to be who they truly are, a place of freedom and encouragement.
In a few moments of shared silence now let us each silently voice our own thoughts and prayers for those we know to be in need of love and support this day ……
And may the words of our hearts be matched by the actions of our hands, working in this world of abundance that all might be fed and watered this day and all days, Amen.
Story: The Soup Stone
Two monks arrive in a closed-off village that has seen too many hard times with famine, floods, and war. Lacking in trust, the villagers are not kindly to strangers. Unhappiness has hardened the hearts of everyone. In fact, the monks discover everybody has retreated inside their homes behind locked doors. “There’s not a bite to eat in the whole region,” they were told. “We are weak and our children are starving. Better keep moving on.”
So the monks decide to make stone soup to share with everyone. They pull out an iron cauldron from their pack, fill it with water, and begin to build a fire under it.
Then, with great ceremony, one of the travelling monks brings an ordinary-looking stone from a silken bag and drops it into the water.
By now, hearing the rumour of food, most of the villagers had come out of their homes or watched from their windows. As the stranger sniffed the “broth” and licked his lips in anticipation, hunger began to overcome their fear.
“Ahh,” the stranger said to himself rather loudly, “I do like a tasty stone soup. Of course, stone soup with cabbage — that’s hard to beat.”
Soon a villager approached hesitantly, holding a small cabbage he’d retrieved from its hiding place, and added it to the pot. Some others in the village share the little they have: salt and pepper, carrots, onions, mushrooms and other good things. Afterwards, when the soup is done the whole community sits down to eat together the meal they have prepared.
The villager elder begged the stranger to sell him the magic stone, but he refused to sell it and travelled on the next day.
As he left, the stranger came upon a group of village children standing near the road. He gave the silken bag containing the stone to the youngest child, whispering to a group, “It was not the stone, but the villagers that had performed the magic.”
Hymn 158 (SYF): ‘The Flame of Truth is Kindled
Let’s sing together now. Our first hymn today is ‘The Flame of Truth is Kindled’. For those of you present at the church in-person you’ll find the words in your purple hymn book – number 158 – and for those joining via Zoom they’ll be up on your screen to sing along at home. Please feel free to stand or sit, as you prefer, as we sing: ‘The Flame of Truth is Kindled’.
The flame of truth is kindled,
our chalice burning bright;
amongst us moves the Spirit
in whom we take delight.
We worship here in freedom
with conscience unconstrained,
a pilgrim people thankful
of what great souls have gained.
The flame of thought is kindled,
we celebrate the mind:
its search for deepest meaning
that time-bound creeds can’t bind.
We celebrate its oneness
with body and with soul,
with universal process,
with God who makes us whole.
The flame of love is kindled,
we open wide our hearts,
that it may burn within us,
fuel us to do our parts.
Community needs building,
a Commonwealth of Earth,
we ask for strength to build it –
a new world come to birth.
Online Reading: ‘The House of Gathering’ by May Sarton – read by Charlotte
If old age is a house of gathering,
Then the hands are full.
There are old trees to prune
And young plants to plant,
There are seeds to be sown.
Not less of anything
But more of everything
To care for,
To maintain,
To keep sorted out,
A profusion of people
To answer, to respond to.
But we have been ripening
To a greater ease,
Learning to accept
That all hungers cannot be fed,
That saving the world
May be a matter
Of sowing a seed
Not overturning a tyrant,
That we can do what we can.
The moment of vision,
The seizure still makes
Its relentless demands:
Work, love, be silent.
Speak.
Musical Interlude: ‘Autumn Leaves’ played by Sandra Smith
Words for Meditation: ‘In an unsettled world’ by Bruce Marshall
Introductory words – get comfortable in our chairs – feet on floor, maybe close our eyes or soften our gaze. Our words for meditation were written by Bruce Marshall and he’s seeking sources of quiet, of peace and stillness in an unsettled world – I wonder if any of the images he evokes are sources of stillness for you as well, as he encourages us to ‘to listen for the stillness that rests beneath the confusion and complexities of our lives’. We’ll then have three minutes for a nice long silent meditation, which will come to an end with a chime from our bell.)
In an unsettled world, we seek for a few moments
to turn away from the noise and confusion of our lives.
We seek to enter a stillness, a stillness that resides in the depths of each of us,
A stillness that is at the centre of all that exists.
For a few moments, let us seek quiet
– not the quiet that is the absence of noise, for there is always noise.
Rather, it is like the stillness of a friend listening,
the noontime silence of sunlight on a lake,
the silence of a new idea, a thought that makes the world pause,
the quiet of growing plants,
the quiet of a child sleeping,
the silence that brings rest,
the silence that brings renewal,
the silence from which love and hope emerge.
Let us pause for a few moments, to listen for the stillness
that rests beneath the confusion and complexities of our lives.
Period of Silence and Stillness (~3 minutes) – end with a bell
(Sarah rings bell)
Address: ‘Determined Seeds’ with an extract from Warshan Shire’s poem ‘What They Did Yesterday Afternoon’
What can I tell you about life that you don’t already know? Nothing. We all know how it is. That it’s worth putting effort into what we care about in life; that if we put energy into our projects there’s often a positive payback, if you plant a seed – real or symbolic then you may well get to harvest a crop or have a beautiful flower to enjoy. And we know the other side of the coin, that with the best will in the world our schemes may sometimes come to nothing, that an ill wind will blow, a flood may come, someone may tread all over your tender seedlings – and through no fault of your own – no crop, no flowers, no successful end to your plans, hopes and dreams come to naught.
But we can’t allow fear of an unknown future to stop us from doing the bits we can do. And the older I get, the more I find myself agreeing with poet May Sarton when she says in the reading we heard earlier that she is: ‘learning to accept that all hungers cannot be fed, that saving the world may be a matter of sowing a seed not overturning a tyrant, that we do what we can.’
My world saving days are well and truly over. I rather hope that’s not the case for all of you. Some passionate conviction can be such a strong motivator. Our world needs people with conviction and passion to speak up and speak out. But this path will not be right for the most of us quieter, more tentative souls. But let’s not ever be stopped from doing the bit we can do to right wrongs, to overcome injustice and to reach out a hand of human solidarity to those who have had the odds stacked against them in this terribly skewed game of life.
My heart is warmed by seeing our modest harvest display here. This ancient tradition of celebrating the autumn harvest in a religious setting – surely its roots go deep indeed, back into our collective psyche. To give thanks is surely the oldest of prayers, give thanks and maybe the gods will be as kind again next year to us. Nowadays our harvest displays are more than simply gratitude, followed by a shared feast. We whose spiritual expression becomes ever more inter-connected with the natural world on which our little lives are entirely dependent – we feel a need I think to thank mother earth for her gifts to us. We marvel don’t we at nature’s abundance at this time of year. We are also recognising our relative abundance – knowing that we are people who generally have enough, sometimes more than enough. We are the fortunate ones and so at harvest time we collect food to give to others, who have less. We try in a small way to right the wrongs that our society is currently making ever more stark – as the gap between haves and have nots grows ever wider. I have two bags of tinned food in the car ready to be dropped off at the foodbank, given to me by friends yesterday – and we know that is just a drop in the proverbial ocean of need – and we do what we can. Our small acts of kindness and resolve may be the determined seeds that will crack open a pavement, crack open a heart. Let us never doubt that our small acts of compassion, our reaching towards another human being rather than moving away from them, could make a difference in the life of another as well as in our own.
I have been so very moved in recent weeks by the bravery of young women and men in Iran who have been protesting against their country’s strict rules about women’s clothing and hair covering. My heart aches for families whose feisty daughters have died in suspicious circumstances whilst in police custody. I watch in awe as young Russians stand up against their country’s brutal laws. We are seemingly powerless to help these young rebels. But we can act as witnesses to their struggles and their suffering. As we know from our own lives, it is sometimes the greatest of comforts when a friend simply witnesses and acknowledges our difficulties.
That’s why I wanted to end this harvest address today not with a cheery ‘isn’t nature wonderful’ message, nor a ‘look at all the lovely foods we have on display’ but rather with an extract from an uncomfortable poem, written by Warsan Shire (pronounced Waarrh-san Shi-rrey and entitled ‘What They Did Yesterday Afternoon’. I wonder if you’ve come across her writings.
Warsan Shire is a Somali British writer and poet, born in Nairobi and raised in London, now living in the States.
Reading: later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?
it answered
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere. (repeat)
I find it hard to explain how this imagery touches me – of a hurting world and a tender observer gently stroking the earth and speaking gently – and then listening carefully to the reply. And I could leave it at that – but a more uplifting conclusion came to me this week when I searched online for instructions on how to pronounce Warsan’s name. I suspect many of us would pronounce her name Warsan Shire – as it is written, not knowing the correct Somalian pronunciation, with rolling ‘r’ sounds. I’ve done my best and I’m sure it’s still far from correct, for which I apologise. But I had to smile when I found this quotation from Warsan on the subject of names. She wrote:
‘give your daughters difficult names. give your daughters names that command the full use of tongue. my name makes you want to tell me the truth. my name doesn’t allow me to trust anyone that cannot pronounce it right’.
That’s feisty, that’s strong. That is a woman claiming her right to exist in this world, to have her own name and to expect people to make an effort to learn how to pronounce that name. That is a determined seed busily putting down roots, utilising a crack in a paving slab, and reaching upwards towards the sun. I wonder what determined seeds are quietly ready to germinate within us. Some of them might even overthrow tyrants and change the world for the better – you never know. Amen
Hymn 130 (SYF): ‘Ours is a Town for Everyone’
Let’s join in singing our second hymn today – ours is a town for everyone – in our purple hymnbooks and online the words will be on your screen. Let’s raise the roof so everyone gets to hear that we want to live in a land that welcomes everyone equally, a land that does not try to exclude those whose lives are so much tougher than our own.
Ours is a town for everyone
who wants to play their part
in making it a better place
to practise living’s art.
Ours is a town where every faith,
all creeds of hope and peace,
can worship freely, yet recall
we are one human race.
Ours is a town where we must care
for those whose lives are hard,
for whom bright mornings turn to tears
and all once fair seems marred.
Ours is a town where, side by side
in friendship and goodwill,
we’ll build a place where all can be
respected and fulfilled.
So let us celebrate our town
and pledge ourselves to be
the ones who make it beautiful,
safe, prosperous and free.
Sharing of News, Announcements, Introductions
Thanks today to our technical team of Ramona and Jane – essential work behind the scenes. Thanks to Sandra Smith for lovely music and to Charlotte Chanteloup for being our Zoom host and our reader today. Lovely to have you with us Charlotte and to know that you’ll be visiting here in London in a couple of weeks.
(Other announcements from back of order of service)
So let’s ready ourselves now for our closing words and closing music now.
Closing Blessing:
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.
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.
In the week ahead let us be intentional in our living, in the choices we make and the paths we take – and may our intention be to share the harvest of life more fairly with all those we meet along the way. Amen, go well all of you, and blessed be.
Closing Music: ‘Dvorak’s ‘Harvesters Song’ played by Sandra Smith
Rev. Sarah Tinker
9th October 2022