Harvest Thanksgiving
Updated: 2 minutes ago
Sunday Service, 27 September 2026
Led by Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall
Musical Prelude: Hornpipes – The Stack of Barley & Harvest Home (performed by Caitlin Mannion, Tara McCarthy, and Conor Macmahon)
Opening Words: ‘For the Harvest’ by Cliff Reed (adapted)
For the harvest of the year, hard-won
from an earth at once bountiful
and grudging, we give thanks.
For all our cleverness, all our technology,
all our pride in our own achievements,
we are as dependent on our mother-planet
as were our forebears, remote in time,
who first scratched a living from its surface.
With reverence and wisdom we must till the soil.
It is not ours to own and dispose of as we will.
‘The Earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof.’
And it is our children’s and our children’s children’s too.
For them it must be as fertile, as green,
and as rich in life as it has been for us.
We must do what we can to make it so,
as faithful stewards of this good earth.
So for the harvest of the year, let us give thanks:
the harvest of shared faith and shared work,
a shared spirit and a shared endeavour.
And may we each play our part in continuing the cycle,
planting seeds through our own loving action, so others too
may reap the harvest of this faithful, hopeful, loving community. (pause)
Words of Welcome and Introduction:
These words from Cliff Reed welcome all who have gathered this morning for our Sunday service. Welcome to those who have gathered in-person at Essex Church, to all who are joining via Zoom, and anyone tuning in at a later date via YouTube or the podcast stream. For anyone who doesn’t know me, I’m Jane Blackall, and I’m minister with Kensington Unitarians.
This morning we’re holding our service of harvest thanksgiving. Each year when we do this I have a real sense of being part of a long line of people who, down the centuries, have paused at this time of year to give thanks for the gifts of the earth (and participate in rituals in the hope that they ensure there will be a good harvest again next year). These days, many of us are not quite so connected to the land – particularly those of us who live in big cities – and I think that makes it even more important that we intentionally reconnect with this tradition. So, this morning, let’s bring to our awareness the great web of connections that are involved in feeding us, or maybe we could even say nourishing us in a broader sense, meeting the needs of our body, mind, and soul.
In the words of Donald Altman, on the front of your order of service today: ‘Each meal, each morsel, is a gift. The earth provides a bounty of food. Farmers plant seeds and harvest crops. Truckers transport food to distribution centres. Retailers stock the shelves. This great chain of being and giving never ends. That you are part of a community and a planet that share food is one of the amazing gifts of being. Each foodstuff connects us to our planet and our community.’
Chalice Lighting: ‘For the Harvest’ by Elizabeth Harley
Let’s light our chalice flame now, as we do each week. It’s a moment for us to stop and take a breath, settle ourselves down, put aside any preoccupations we came in carrying. 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 this gathering is part.
(light chalice)
We light this chalice and acknowledge
the turning of the season and the harvest.
May we embody generosity, abundance,
and care, welcoming all to our table.
Hymn 43 (purple): ‘Gather the Spirit’
Let us sing together now. Our first hymn is number 43 in your purple books: ‘Gather the Spirit’. For those joining on zoom the words will be up on screen. Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer.
Gather the spirit, harvest the power.
Our separate fires will kindle one flame.
Witness the mystery of this hour.
Our trials in this light appear all the same.
Gather in peace, gather in thanks.
Gather in sympathy now and then.
Gather in hope, compassion and strength.
Gather to celebrate once again.
Gather the spirit of heart and mind.
Seeds for the sowing are laid in store.
Nurtured in love and conscience refined,
with body and spirit united once more.
Gather in peace, gather in thanks.
Gather in sympathy now and then.
Gather in hope, compassion and strength.
Gather to celebrate once again.
Gather the spirit growing in all,
drawn by the moon and fed by the sun.
Winter to spring, and summer to fall,
the chorus of life resounding as one.
Gather in peace, gather in thanks.
Gather in sympathy now and then.
Gather in hope, compassion and strength.
Gather to celebrate once again.
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 & Reflection: based on words by Simon John Barlow
Let’s take those joys and concerns into an extended time of prayer. The prayer is based on words by Simon John Barlow. You might want to adjust your position, close your eyes, or soften your gaze. There might be a posture that helps you feel more prayerful. Whatever helps you get into the right state of body and mind for us to pray together – be fully present – 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 exuberant abundance; Source of All,
in our lives, we have reaped where we have sown
and so we celebrate the gift of life you gave us
and the strength and delight we possess:
to love and play; to plan and work; to grow and know.
We have also gathered fruits where others planted seeds
and so we give thanks for the lives and labours
of those we love and loved, for those who love us,
for all those dear souls who enrich our lives,
with whom we laugh and cry, talk and walk.
We hold in the light of compassion
those whose harvest is not yet ready;
those whose harvest has failed;
those whose harvest is bitter or painful;
Guide us, that we may treat All Your Creation with respect,
so that we use our gifts, talents and blessings
to bring a brighter harvest for all humanity.
Spirit of Life, God of All Love, help us to turn –
from callousness to sensitivity, from hostility to love,
from pettiness to purpose, from envy to contentment,
from carelessness to mindfulness, from fear to faith.
Help us revive our lives, as at a new beginning. (pause)
And in a few minutes of quietness now, let us seek a higher perspective, a longer view;
starting right where we are, let us shift our awareness ever outward, in circles of concern.
Let us bring to mind those we know to be struggling this day – perhaps including ourselves –
those friends and family we hold dearest – our neighbours in community –
others around the globe we may only have heard about on the news.
And let us take time to send prayers of loving kindness to all who suffer this day. (long pause)
Let us take stock of our own lives – the challenges we face – and our part in those difficulties –
perhaps we are all too aware of mistakes we have made, or opportunities we have missed –
times in this week where things didn’t turn out how we intended or had hoped.
And let us take time to ask for what we need to transform our pain and sufferings. (long pause)
Let us look back over the last week, taking time to notice what was good, and to count our blessings – all the ways in which others helped or encouraged us, inspired or delighted us –
all the goodness and beauty we have known even in the midst of life’s struggles.
And let us take time to give prayers of thanks for all we have been given. (long 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 135 (purple): ‘Praise God for the Harvest’
Let’s sing again – our second hymn is number 135 in your purple books and it’s to such a classic harvest tune (I know of at least three harvest hymns to this tune) – ‘Praise God for the Harvest’.
Praise God for the harvest of orchard and field,
praise God for the people who gather their yield,
the long hours of labour, the skills of a team,
the patience of science, the power of machine.
Praise God for the harvest that comes from afar,
from market and harbour, the sea and the shore:
foods packed and transported, and gathered and grown
by God-given neighbours, unseen and unknown.
Praise God for the harvest that's quarried and mined,
then sifted, and smelted, or shaped and refined;
for oil and for iron, for copper and coal,
praise God, who in love has provided them all.
Praise God for the harvest of science and skill,
the urge to discover, create and fulfil:
for dreams and inventions that promise to gain
a future more hopeful, a world more humane.
Praise God for the harvest of mercy and love
for leaders and peoples who struggle and serve
with patience and kindness, that all may be led
to freedom and justice, and all may be fed.
Reading: ‘Saving Grace’ by Kathleen McTigue (read by David)
Wise souls from every tradition teach that gratitude is at the heart of the spiritual life because it leads us to all the rest. Consider the simplest practice of gratitude, saying grace before we eat a meal. That little moment of attention is enough to wake us up to the world. Instead of chugging a glass of water down our thirsty throats, gratitude reminds us how lucky we are that clean water flows for us with the simple turn of the handle at a sink. Instead of packing in our food so we can get on to the next activity or eating so distractedly that we barely taste it, that moment of saying grace helps us look at the meal with a kind of reverence. We pause and remember not everyone gets to eat. Not even everyone in our own country, our own city, gets to eat.
Where did it all come from, this food, this water? None of it spontaneously generated there on the plate or in the glass. So we remember the rain and soil and sun on which everything depends. We remember the invisible makers of this meal, the people who bend over the fields for hours planting or harvesting, the ones in the barns or slaughterhouses, the ones who work in factories or who drive the trucks or ring up the cash registers. Even a fleeing prayer of thankfulness for our daily bread reminds of how fragile and dependent our bodies are, how everything hinges on everything else, and awakens us again to the fundamental grace of breath, water, food.
(pause)
Kathleen McTigue concludes with a short grace prayer. Perhaps you might like to try saying grace in this way, or in words of your own, as a blessing next time you sit down to eat.
Thank you for the earth, the sun and rain.
Thank you for the gladness of being together.
May they be blessed, all those whose hands planted,
nurtured, harvested, and helped to prepare our food.
May it make us strong for the work of our world. Amen.
Words for Meditation: ‘Waken in Me a Sense of Joy’ by Ted Loder
We’re moving into a time of meditation now. To take us into stillness, I’m going to share a poem by Ted Loder, titled ‘Waken in Me a Sense of Joy’ – it’s an autumnal poem – which invites us to expand that sense of gratitude into the whole of our lives – to awaken to what is good all around us, despite everything, and to feel the joy of it. After that, we will hold a few minutes of silence, which will end with the sound of a bell. Then we’ll hear music for meditation. So let’s do what we need to do to get comfortable – adjust your position – put your feet flat on the floor to ground yourself – close your eyes. As ever, the words are just an offering, feel free to use this time to meditate in your own way.
‘Waken in Me a Sense of Joy’ by Ted Loder
O extravagant God,
in this ripening, red-tinged autumn,
waken in me a sense of joy
in just being alive,
joy for nothing in general
except everything in particular;
joy in sun and rain
mating with earth to birth a harvest;
joy in soft light
through shyly disrobing trees;
joy in acolyte moon
setting halos around processing clouds;
joy in the beating of a thousand wings
mysteriously knowing which way is warm;
joy in wagging tails and kids' smiles
and in this spunky old city;
joy in the taste of bread and wine,
the smell of dawn,
a touch,
a song,
a presence;
joy in having what I cannot live without —
other people to hold and cry and laugh with
joy in love,
in you;
and that all at first and last
is grace.
Period of Silence and Stillness (~3 minutes) – end with a bell
Musical Interlude: Jigs – Apples in Winter & Tongs by the Fire (performed by Caitlin Mannion, Tara McCarthy, and Conor Macmahon)
Poem: ‘Digging Up Potatoes’ by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer (read by Juliet)
There is no way to know
what we’ll find beneath
the yellowing leaves.
And always I forget
which varieties I’ve planted
and where. And so, when
the Finnish fingerlings appear
just below the surface,
I thrill in their golden
skin and knobby shapes,
and when the dark purple
potatoes emerge from the depths
of the garden bed,
by then, I am already kneeling,
but something inside kneels, too—
oh the russet and red-skinned
and pink-fleshed miracle of it all,
the sheer delight
of running my fingers
through the dirt and
pulling out potatoes,
each one somehow
a surprise, a small reminder
of how beautifully
the world can work,
how the darkness
nourishes such incredible
gifts. Ten hours since
I left the garden, and
whatever inside me knew to kneel
is still enthralled in prayer.
Poem: ‘The Peach’ by James Crews (read by Sonya)
It is almost enough, even better
than biting into it—holding
this ripe peach to your nose
and breathing in its perfume,
like entering a room of abundance
and sweetness, filled with late
summer sun slanting in through
the shifting trees. But you don’t
have to stop there—you can stay
with the soft moment, and close
both eyes, sending the peach on
to someone else who desperately
needs to be fed. Is it enough just
to hope and pray? No, it is not.
But the ache will bloom inside you
and spread, until the wish for
the whole world to have enough
becomes truth, becomes the law
we all choose to live by.
Poem: ‘Saying Grace’ by Abby E. Murray (read by Jasmine)
It’s a habit we forget to break
even after we start spending Sundays
away from the church,
following holiness where it goes.
We perform the miracle of rest, too,
in spite of everything we know
about judgment: we bring each other
coffee, fold each other’s clothes,
take walks so we can hold hands.
These are gifts we only seem to give away.
Sometimes, we find what is risen
in the gold hollows of a donut
fried at the bakery down the street
then carried home in a paper sack
and broken on a plate between us.
We sit at the table like priests
and preside over the goodness
of lemon curd and a sugared crust:
how it delights long after delight
is endangered. We give thanks
and feel certain that somewhere beyond us
our gratitude matters: it is heard
like a chant in the halls of a church
we can feel but cannot see.
Hymn 37 (purple): ‘For the Fruits of All Creation’
Let’s sing again now, number 37 in the purple book, ‘For the Fruits of All Creation’.
For the fruits of all creation,
thanks be to God;
for the gifts to every nation
thanks be to God;
for the ploughing, sowing, reaping,
silent growth while we are sleeping,
future needs in earth's safe-keeping,
thanks be to God.
In the just reward of labour,
God's will is done;
in the help we give our neighbour,
God's will is done;
in the world-wide task of caring
for the hungry and despairing,
in the harvests we are sharing,
God's will is done.
For the harvest of the spirit,
thanks be to God;
for the good we all inherit,
thanks be to God;
for the wonders that astound us,
for the truths that still confound us,
most of all, that love has found us.
thanks be to God.
Mini-Reflection: ‘Harvest Thanksgiving’ by Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall
The harvest festival is meant to be a time of thanksgiving. Once a year, we are reminded to pay special attention to our where our food comes from, and all the stars that have to align in order for even the simplest meal to turn up on our plate.
For those of us who are reasonably well-off – in global terms, at least – and I’m not making the assumption that we’re all that comfortable as I know times are tough for so many right now – but still many of us take it for granted that we can put food on the table tonight. Indeed, that we will have some choice in the matter.
The traditions around the harvest festival are supposed to shake us up a bit. To wake us up to everything that’s involved in feeding the currently 8.3 billion people on earth. Considering the food supply chain – and all the many things that can disrupt it – gives us a lesson in our interdependence. We are dependent on human factors: the people who grow crops, then dig them up, pick them off, or cut them down; the people who pack and transport them, prepare them and sell them; the people who cook them and serve them up. We are dependent on weather and climate: not too hot, not too cold; not too wet, not too dry; just the right amount of rain at the right time; and enough sunshine to photosynthesise and ripen. We are dependent on the bees and other insects to pollinate (75% of crops depend on animal pollinators). And we’re competing with so many other life-forms who also want to eat our fruit and veg: beetles and weevils, slugs and caterpillars, birds and rodents, mildew and blight.
Our food supply is more fragile than we might like to acknowledge, given that our lives depend on it – perhaps we’re beginning to face up to that a bit more now – given that in the last decade we’ve witnessed the significant impact of global events (such as the pandemic, Brexit, the war in Ukraine, and Trump’s tariffs) on prices and availability. And given the summer we’ve had, and the El Niño that’s on the way, the impact of climate change on our lives (and our capacity to feed ourselves) is becoming ever-clearer.
Harvest, as well as being a festival of thanksgiving, is a time for taking stock. It reminds us to be grateful for what we have – in this moment – and not to take it for granted. To be aware of where we are situated among the haves and have nots. To do what we can to help ensure life on this planet is liveable – and ever more equitable and just – so that everybody gets their fair share of the earth’s abundant goodness. And it reminds us to stay in touch with what is nourishing and good throughout all of life’s seasons.
Responsive Reading: ‘Harvest Thanksgiving’ by Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall
In that spirit, I invite you now to join in with the responsive reading in the middle of your hymn sheet – the words will also be on screen – the responses are printed in bold. (pause)
In this season of harvest, let us give thanks
for all the good gifts we have been given.
From the basic material needs of life
on which our very existence depends
– good food, fresh water, clean air, safe shelter, and rest –
to the rich social and cultural nourishment
which supports our full flourishing.
For all the gifts of life that come our way, we give thanks.
For the pleasure of delicious food.
The preparation and anticipation
– the sensory delights of smell, texture, and taste –
salt, spice, sour, savoury, sweet.
For the daily pleasures of cooking and eating, we give thanks.
For the sacrifice of the plants, animals, and fungi
– once-living beings who become part of the food chain –
whose nutrients become the building blocks of our own bodies,
their life force given up so that we, in turn, might live.
For the living beings that become our food, we give thanks.
For all the diverse flavours and cultures of the world
– recipes dreamed up, tested, and handed down the generations –
which offer familiarity and comfort, and connect us to our heritage.
For all the seeds saved, varieties cultivated, rare breeds preserved.
For the culinary traditions we have inherited, we give thanks.
For the labour involved in ensuring our access to safe and nutritious meals
– a network of farmers and growers, pickers and processors,
scientists and regulators, distributors and sellers –
an immense effort to provide sustenance.
For all who work to fill our store cupboards, we give thanks.
For those who organise to provide for those who aren’t so fortunate
– running food banks, aid programmes, and welfare systems
to redistribute supplies to those who are going hungry –
and who fight for justice so that the harvest is shared more fairly.
For all who strive to ensure that everybody is properly fed, we give thanks.
For all who take action for climate justice and biodiversity,
knowing that our very survival as a species depends on
good growing conditions, and safe and stable places
for all to live, in the interdependent web of life.
For the environmental activists fighting to save us all, we give thanks.
For the mystery of life itself, and our good fortune
to find ourselves existing on this beautiful planet
– alive, awake, and aware of its preciousness and precarity –
may we never take this fleeting gift for granted.
In this season of harvest, let us give thanks
for all the good gifts we have been given. Amen.
Hymn (on sheet): ‘We Plough the Fields and Scatter’
One last hymn – it’s on your hymn sheet and it’s a very traditional harvest hymn: ‘We Plough the Fields and Scatter’.
We plough the fields and scatter
The good seed on the land,
But it is fed and watered
By God's almighty hand:
The snow is sent in winter,
The warmth to swell the grain,
The breezes and the sunshine,
And soft refreshing rain.
All good gifts around us Are sent from heaven above;
Then thank the Lord, O thank the Lord, For all his love.
God only is the maker
Of all things near and far,
Who paints the wayside flower
And lights the evening star;
The winds and waves are governed,
And still the birds are fed;
Much more to us, earth’s children,
God gives our daily bread.
All good gifts around us Are sent from heaven above;
Then thank the Lord, O thank the Lord, For all his love.
We thank thee then, Creator,
For all things bright and good,
The seed-time and the harvest,
Our life, our health, our food.
Accept the gifts we offer
For all thy love imparts,
And, what thou most desirest,
Our humble, thankful hearts.
All good gifts around us Are sent from heaven above;
Then thank the Lord, O thank the Lord, For all his love.
Announcements:
Thanks to Ramona for hosting and Shari for co-hosting (if you’re online please do stay on afterwards for a chat). Thanks to Tara, Caitlin and Conor for lovely music, Andrew for accompanying our hymns, and Benjie for supporting our singing. Thanks to David, Jasmine, Juliet, and Sonya for reading. Thanks to Juliet for greeting and Julia for making coffee. Thanks to everyone who brought items to decorate the table! And once we’ve taken a few photos for the newsletter you’re welcome to take it away. Please stay on for tea and cake – we’ve got Victoria Sponge or Plum, Hazelnut and Chocolate Cake today.
I’m about to take my autumn break so I’ll be off for a few weeks but lots of good people have stepped in to keep the programme running so please do support them by showing up! And if you fancy making a cake to keep everyone happy at coffee hour that would be great! Maybe have a word with Jasmine and let her know if you could bake next week or the week after.
The Better World Book Club is meeting tonight to talk about ‘Lowborn’. If you think you’re coming but haven’t yet had the link that’s because you’re not on my list! Give me a nudge if you need it. Next month we’re reading ‘Worn’ by Sofi Thanhauser – about the history of clothing – that might seem an unusual subject but it brings in all sorts of social justice and environmental concerns. I’ve got a few copies of that to lend out if you’re able to join us online on the 26th October.
Sonya is back with Nia Dance from on Fridays at 12.30pm. That’s holistic movement and dance. Get in touch with Sonya if you want to know more.
On Friday at 7pm we’ve got our ‘Heart and Soul’ online contemplative spiritual gathering – this week our theme is ‘Surprise’ – email Maud Robinson if you want to join and she will send you the link.
Looking further ahead we’ll be running a new RE course this autumn – it’s every Thursday night in November – on ‘The Language of Faith’. We’ll be exploring our relationship to religious language. That’s on Zoom. All are welcome – Unitarians from all over – but you need to sign up in advance and there will be a little bit of homework to do in advance. Email me if you want to sign up for that.
Next Sunday our service will be led by Jasmine with help from members of the congregation and that’ll be on the theme of ‘Our Favourite Hymns’. And that’ll be followed by singing with Margaret.
Details of all our various activities are printed on the order of service, and also in the Friday email, so sign up for our mailing list if you haven’t already done so. And we do have a lot of copies of our autumn newsletter which we want to use to promote our events so if you know anyone who might be interested in what we do then take a copy for them! 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 music now.
Benediction: based on words by Charles Howe
May we go forth from this harvest gathering
thankful for the life that sustains and renews us,
and open to the grace that surrounds and surprises us.
May we go forth with openness and with thanksgiving,
sharing our many blessings in a generous spirit
with all those we meet along the way. Amen.
Closing Music: Reels – The Wind that Shakes the Barley & Harvest Moon (performed by Caitlin Mannion, Tara McCarthy, and Conor Macmahon)
Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall
27th September 2026