Futility and Other Life Lessons

Sunday Service, 17 May 2026

Led by Rev. Sarah Tinker

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3hLbYtoHIZ8

Musical Prelude: ‘A Wondrous Path’ from The Secret Piano by Alexis Ffrench (performed by Jack Campbell)  

Opening Words from ‘Welcome to this House of Love’ by Danny Crosby

‘Welcome to this our house of love...

Welcome in the spirit of love, in the spirit of openness, in the spirit of reverence...

Here may we revere God, revere life, revere one another...

Here may we find peace, rest, comfort and challenge...

In this time and place may we find community and meaning...

Here may we know we are loved, accepted and encouraged to be all that we were born to be...

Know that you are welcome here, no matter who you are and where ever you have been...

Welcome to this our house of love...’

Welcome and Introduction:

Good morning everyone and welcome to this Sunday gathering of Kensington Unitarians. Welcome to those of you joining us online this morning, welcome to those of you here in person at Essex Church in London, and an especial welcome to those of you listening to this service as a podcast or watching the video some time in the future. I hope life is treating you well, wherever you are.

If we’ve not met before I’m Sarah Tinker and I’m glad to be with you today when we’ll be exploring some aspects of one of my favourite topics – futility. Like all Unitarian gatherings, my thoughts about this are simply suggestions to help us explore what it means to be alive and human – so I hope there’ll be something in this next hour that will be helpful in your own lives.  Let’s take time now to settle in the here and now of this moment, a time that has never been before, in this gathering that is in itself unique and unrepeatable, we might take a conscious breath in and out, and as we breathe in we can connect with which we hold to be of greatest worth …. And as we breathe out we might release anything that we’re able to put to one side for a while – those niggles and concerns, thoughts about the rest of our day, or what happened in the past, anything that keeps us from being present with ourselves, with one another and with that which we hold to be divine.

Chalice Lighting:

(Light chalice)

Our chalice flame is lit, connecting us with progressive Unitarian & Unitarian Universalist communities the world over. Maureen Killoran writes that ‘It matters that we remember that each one of us walks this chilly world in some way as a stranger. It matters that we remember that the purpose of the community is to welcome the stranger in from the cold’. May our chalice flame burn brightly and warmly within our hearts, that all may feel included in this our shared journey of life.

Hymn 76 (green): ‘Immortal, Invisible’

(Sarah to introduce hymn).

Immortal, invisible, God only wise

In light inaccessible hid from our eyes,

Most blessèd, most glorious, the Ancient of Days,

Almighty, victorious, thy great name we praise.

Unresting, unhasting, and silent as light,

Nor wanting, nor wasting, thou rulest in might:

Thy justice like mountains high soaring above

Thy clouds, which are fountains of goodness and love.

To all life thou givest — to both great and small;

In all life thou livest, the true life of all;

We blossom and flourish as leaves on the tree,

And wither and perish, but nought changeth thee.

Great Spirit of glory, pure source of all light,

Thine angels adore thee, all veiling their sight;

All laud we would render: O help us to see

‘Tis only the splendour of light hideth thee.

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. We’ll go to the people in the building first, then to Zoom.

So I invite some of you here in person to come and light a candle and then if you wish to tell us who or what you light your candle for – please keep it brief – be considerate of others. I’m going to ask you to come to the lectern to speak, as we want people to be able to hear 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 and Reflection: for these times in which we live

Let’s take the issues we’ve heard spoken of today into a time of reflection and prayer now, giving ourselves chance to turn inwards, to sense a connection with ourselves, with one another and with all that we hold to be of greatest worth, the God of our hearts and understanding, the very spirit of life and love that pulses through all of creation. We are part of something so much greater than our small selves and we are not alone. What might that mean for each of us?

It is so human to consider the differences between us and other people; we seek the safety of our own tribes and groups and we see others as ‘the other’ – not like us. If it feels comfortable to do so, I invite us to think of a group we consider to be ‘other’ – different and separate from us. And take an opportunity in our own hearts to wish them well, to consider them as human beings like us, or at the least to be curious about them and their beliefs and behaviours. …. May our world’s divisions be eased through greater understanding, through common humanity, through the strength of love and justice.

And let us pray now for the troubled, painful places in our world where love and justice are hidden from the light, where cruelty and discord rule. Our human hearts ache for the suffering of others and for the little that we can do to improve things. May we do the little we can do, may we educate ourselves so that we better comprehend the sources of suffering and may leaders the world over be inspired by the possibility of peace rather than war.

And in a moment of quiet let us now offer up the private hopes and fears of our own hearts, our own lives and the lives of those we are close to. ….. And may all beings know love this day and all days, and to that aspiration let us say together amen, so may it be.

In-Person Reading: ‘In an Andalusian Orchard’ by John Hands

Yes I can believe

That in some distant dimension there are orchards

More beautiful than this one; where I might listen to

The rhythmic screech of combatant sparrows

The harsh cackle of geese, the high falsetto of cockerels;

The tedious twitter of circumambient swallows.

Yes I can believe

There are mountains less harsh, with sun-bleached canopies

Fruits of orange and apricot trees, miraculously mature

Uninfested with insects, though harmlessly beset

With droves of butterflies, apparently here extinct.

Yes I can believe

In nightingales more sonorous and more frequent

Of grass less choked with weeds and Spring flowers like these

Blooming perpetually. I can believe in free-flowing rivers uncluttered

With human detritus, of dogs less raucous

Of roads never crowded with aggressive cars and ear-splitting scooters.

Yes, I can believe

There’s an extraterrestrial paradise – but I refuse to pine for it

I’m happy here amongst dust and showers and whiffs of decaying fruit

The distant cacophony of motorbikes, and discordant sparrows

The frequent chill of a breeze and the skin-scorching sun.

I am happy here, because here I’m still human: but without

My precious mortal body – however could I be?

Hymn (on Sheet): ‘We Are Travellers On a Journey’

(Sarah will introduce hymn) 

We are travellers on a journey

which brought us from the sun,

when primal star exploded

and earth in orbit spun;

but now as human dwellers

upon earth-planet’s crust,

we strive for living systems

whose ways are kind and just.

We are travellers on a journey

which grows from human seed,

and through our birth and childhood

goes where life’s path may lead;

but now we are delving deeper

in quest of greater worth

and reaching unknown regions

and planets of new birth.

We are travellers on a journey

through realms of inner space

where joy and peace are planets

that circle stars of grace;

and when we find the stillness

which comes at journey’s end,

there’ll be complete refreshment,

a resting place, a friend.

In-Person Reading: from ‘A Pale Blue Dot’ by Carl Sagan

This reading has become known as The Pale Blue Dot. It’s taken from writings by the famous astronomer Carl Sagan and he’s referring to a particular photo, taken of our planet earth home back in 1990 by NASA’s Voyager 1 spacecraft. You might consider this piece of writing as Sagan’s attempt to wake us humans up to our remarkable insignificance alongside the miracle of our existence on our blue planet home.

“Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there-on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot.

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.

It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.”

Words for Meditation: ‘What Really Matters To Us’

So we’re moving into a time of meditative quiet now – there’ll be a few words to lead us into a good few minutes of silence and then a chime from our bell will bring us some piano music from Jack Campbell our pianist – written by a notable American composer who I’d not heard of before – Margaret Bonds.

I’m inviting us to consider some of the aspects of life that matter most to us, without judgement in any way, simply considering our current response to the query ‘what matters most?. Don’t feel in any way obliged to follow this suggestion though – this time is for you.

So let’s get ourselves comfy as best we can for a few minutes of stillness, perhaps adjusting how we’re sitting, straighten ourselves, check our shoulders for any tension that could be eased, aware of our feet resting on the floor, connecting us with our pale blue dot home. You might want to take one of those soothing breaths deep into the belly, allowing the tummy and lungs to expand as they wish, naturally, no need to force anything. And as we breathe out we might imagine our shoulders relaxing back and downwards, away from our ears. Some people like to soften their gaze or close their eyes, or maybe focus on our candle flames or chalice. Let’s join in a spirit of quiet now as we consider what matters most in life for us.

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

Interlude: ‘The Bells’ from Spiritual Suite by Margaret Bonds (performed by Jack Campbell)   

Reflection: ‘Futility and Other Life Lessons’ by Rev. Sarah Tinker

I’m glad that none of you knew me as a teenager. It wasn’t my best stage of life. One of my many annoying habits was to respond to most requests from teachers or parents with a moaning ‘what’s the point?’. This query could be used in reply to so many different requests or suggestions. ‘Tidy your bedroom’. ‘What’s the point?’ ‘Practice these Latin verbs for homework.’ ‘What’s the point?’ I wonder if any of you went through such a stage in your teenage years. Or maybe a sense of life’s ultimate futility visits you from time to time even now. What is the point?

There’s a story oft used by motivational speakers – you’ll have perhaps heard it many times before – which seems to have been first written in a longer essay by Loren Eiseley. The story has become known as The Starthrower and it tells of an old man walking along the sea shore, where he noticed that thousands of starfish had been washed up overnight. He came across a young child picking up starfish and carefully throwing them back into the ocean.

“Child,” he asked, “what are you doing?”

“The sun is coming up, the tide is going out, and if I do not throw them in, they will die,” the child responded.

“Don’t you see?” said the old man, “There are miles and miles of beach and starfish all along it? You cannot possibly make a difference.”

The young child listened politely, paused and then bent down, picked up another starfish, and threw it back into the ocean, saying,

"Well it made a difference to that one."

Marine biologists might prefer us to take a starfish back to the water and submerge it, rather than throwing it – but if it is still alive, it’s certainly worth a try to save their lives. They don’t recommend that we start picking up stranded jellyfish.

This story of the Start Thrower highlights a delightful aspect of being human – that many of get motivated by the possibility of doing something helpful for someone else. Not all of us, but many of us want to make a difference if we can. Indeed many of us find it easier to be motivated by a cause greater than ourselves, by the possibility of assisting another. That explains why my most effective bouts of tidying the house come shortly before someone is about to visit. I want the place to look nice for them – or is it that I just can’t bear the thought that they might see the mess I sometimes create at home, behind closed doors! It’s futile tidying up just for myself because it’s just going to get messy again.

I’ve long been pondering this word ‘futility’ in life. It came to mind recently when I spent a week on the Azores – small, rocky islands in the middle of the Atlantic – all formed from volcanic activity over millennia. We visited a part of one island that had only been created back in the 1950s by a volcanic eruption. And there I read a story that made me smile. It told of a volcanic eruption in 1810-11 that briefly created a small new island. The British had always coveted the Portuguese islands of the Azores and so one of Britain’s navy frigates dashed towards this small island and planted the Union Jack upon it, and called it the Isle Sabrina, after the name of their ship. But alas a few months later, the rocky outcrop sank back into the Atlantic Ocean – taking the flag with it. It’s disappearance caused quite a bit of teasing of the British in the international press. If only the long-term effects of colonialism and flag waving the world over could be resolved so simply. That line in Carl Sagan’s Pale Blue Dot piece that we heard earlier echoes in my mind: ‘The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot’.

Our human endeavours can seem so very futile can’t they, if we take a different perspective from the mainstream narrative. If we think of our world economic system with its current obsession with economic growth or lack of it, the need for us to consume more, more, more – in order for the economy to grow, grow, grow – yet all of this taking place on planet of a certain size and with resources that are mostly finite. The adverts tell us we really need a new ‘this’ or a better ‘that’. Late stage capitalism has futility written into it, but hidden behind a frontage that is sparkly and new and exciting, promising people happiness and contentment if only they manage to get hold of the latest ……. this, that or the other.

When I find myself yearning to buy something new I remember dear old Wordsworth who spotted all this back in the early 19th century, in the relatively early stages of the Industrial Revolution and told us all about it in his sonnet The World Is Too Much With Us, with its hard hitting line that in ‘getting and spending we lay waste our powers’. Let’s mutter that the next time an advert yet again exhorts us to find happiness through buying something.

Philosophers through the centuries have been exploring our human feelings of futility in life. On the front of today’s order of service we have a modern picture of the ancient Greek myth of Sisyphus – condemned to push a huge boulder up a mountain each day, only for it to roll back down and for the task to begin again, for all eternity. Haven’t most of us experienced those Sisyphean times in life where tasks are endless and effort is seemingly pointless. Yet the philosopher Albert Camus argued that by embracing the futility and absurdity of existence, choosing it, celebrating it even, we can live fully, joyfully, with passion. That’s clearly where I’ve been going wrong with repetitious household tasks – I must tidy with greater passion and intensity!

In sociology classes back in the day we learnt from what was called the philosophy of futility that industrialisation had made it more likely that workers would feel alienated from their tasks and would then tend to seek out excitement and novelty through consumerism and through ever-increasing obsessions with entertainment. I think we can see that happening to this day in social media, in sports and celebrity culture. We can also feel the hollow core, the emptiness that such entertainments sometimes fail to fill.

Thank goodness that we live on a planet so beautiful that we can also be entertained for free in parks, in gardens and allotments, by birds and plants and trees, by walking or simply sitting outside. All the more reason then for us to consider deeply how we might best respond to climate emergency, so there is a wondrous, miraculous natural world for future generations to enjoy and be restored by.

I’m grateful for all the spiritual teachings I’ve received over the years on this crucial issue of where and how we find meaning and purpose in life. Buddhist teachings have been especially helpful when seeing life as empty and meaningless has been the wake up call I’ve needed. If life is inherently empty and meaningless, on one level nothing matters. But it also matters greatly. It matters how we live our lives, how we treat one another, how we share our planet earth home. No external forces give our lives meaning or decide our life purpose for us. We are the meaning makers and it is for us to shape our lives according to our circumstances and to find a sense of purpose to guide our living. Our individual identity matters a little less once we realise we are part of the whole.

So I hope all our lives have some activities within them that could be considered futile, yet they are life-enhancing, and they fit with our values. For example, I like recycling things and picking up litter and mending socks.

And maybe every life could do with a review process from time to time that encourages us to consider any ways of being or thinking that are futile and it would be a relief to stop. For example, it would ease my troubled mind to stop expecting world politicians to think and behave in ways that I want them to, and think they should.

I look forward to hearing from you what your favourite futilities in life are and which ones are heading for the recycling bin. Amen.

Hymn 209 (green): ‘A World Transfigured’

(Sarah to introduce hymn)

Wonders still the world shall witness

Never known in days of old,

Never dreamed by ancient sages,

Howsoever free and bold.

Sons and daughters shall inherit

Wondrous arts to us unknown,

When the dawn of peace its splendour

Over all the world has thrown.  

They shall rule with wingèd freedom

Worlds of health and human good,

Worlds of commerce, worlds of science,

All made one and understood.

They shall know a world transfigured,

Which our eyes but dimly see;

They shall make its towns and woodlands

Beautiful from sea to sea.

For a spirit then shall move them

We but vaguely apprehend —

Aims magnificent and holy,

Making joy and labour friend.

Then shall bloom in song and fragrance

Harmony of thought and deed,

Fruits of peace and love and justice —

Where today we plant the seed.

Announcements:

Thanks to Ramona for hosting and Lochlann for co-hosting. Thanks to our pianist Jack Campbell for lovely music and Benjie for supporting our singing so well. Thanks to greeters and readers and coffee makers. If you’re online stay for a chat with Lochlann if you can. If you’re in-person please do stay for refreshments and good conversation.

Tonight and Friday at 7pm we’ve got our online ‘Heart and Soul’ online contemplative spiritual gathering – this week it’s on the theme of ‘Escapism’ – sign up with Jane by email.

Sonya will be here with her Nia Dance class on Friday lunchtime.

Next Sunday the service will be led by your minister Jane Blackall with a pleasing title of ‘Something to Say’.

After the service next week we’ll be hosting a screening of ‘The People’s Emergency Briefing’, a 50-minute film about the climate emergency, followed by a conversation about our responses and what we can do to bring about change. Jasmine is organising this event so you can ask her for more information and let her know you plan to be here.

Our walking group is going to the Lee Valley on Tuesday 26th May. Please let Jane know if you’re planning to come along to that and we’ll let you know the precise meeting details.

This month the Better World Book Club is talking about ‘Is This Working?’ by Charlie Colenutt and we have one copy left to lend out. That’s on 31st May on Zoom - sign up if you plan to come.

And looking further ahead we’re going to run a six part course over the summer called ‘How to Be a Unitarian’ – that’ll be led by Jane and Charlotte online – even if you’ve attended it before you can come again – we’ll be joined by friends from all over the country to explore questions of what it means to be a Unitarian and all the different forms it can take. Sign up with Jane ASAP.

And a date for your diary of Sunday 21st June for a summer solstice afternoon labyrinth walk.

Details of all our various activities are on the order of service, also in the Friday email, so sign up for our mailing list if you haven’t already done so. 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. Just time for our closing words and closing music now – when Jack will be playing a tune called ‘Defying Gravity’ from the musical Wicked.

Benediction: ‘We Miracles of Existence’

As I extinguish this chalice flame, its warmth and light can remain within our hearts, when we step out into a world so yearning for love and connection. Since we never know the difference we might make in the life of another, let’s be people who stay alert to life’s possibilities, to chance events and unexpected encounters, to the miracles of existence that we truly are, amen, go well all of you, and blessed be.

Closing Music: ‘Defying Gravity’ from Wicked by Steven Schwatrz (performed by Jack Campbell) 

Rev. Sarah Tinker

17th May 2026