Hope Not Hate

Sunday Service, 7 September 2025

Led by Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall

Musical Prelude: Turning of the Tide - Cornish Trad. (Arranged by Georgia Turner) (performed by Georgia Morgan Turner)  

Opening Words: ‘All That We Share Is Sacred’ by Andrée Mol (adapted) 

As we gather together this morning, may we remember:

When you share with me what is most important to you,

That is where listening begins.

When I show you that I hear you, when I say your life matters,

That is where compassion begins.

When I open the door to greet you,

That is where hospitality begins.

When I venture out to bring you to shelter,

That is where love begins.

When I risk my comfort to ease your suffering,

When I act against hatred and oppression,

That is where courage begins.

When I open my eyes and my heart to the burdens you carry,

When I affirm your profound worth and dignity,

That is where justice begins.

When we experience the full presence of each other,

Because of our shared humanity,

Because of our differences,

That is where holy gratitude begins.

Our gathering is not complete until all are welcome.

May this be a space of beauty where together

we create a series of miracles, and

where all that we share is sacred. (pause)

Words of Welcome and Introduction: 

These words from Andrée Mol 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 us via Zoom, and anyone tuning in at a later date via YouTube or the podcast.  For anyone who doesn’t know me, I’m Jane Blackall, and I’m minister with Kensington Unitarians.

Our service today is titled ‘Hope Not Hate’ – borrowed from a campaigning organisation – one whose mission is to expose and resist far-right extremism – and to actively build unity, togetherness, and social cohesion in communities across the country – to strengthen our multicultural society.  In the light of recent events – aggressive targeting of those seeking asylum, a surge in racist,  xenophobic, and anti-immigrant rhetoric, and symbolic actions intended to intimidate, to stir up division and hatred – it feels important to me that in this troubling moment we re-affirm the ways in which we, as individuals and as a church community, can uphold our values – we re-assert the inherent worth and dignity of every person – and we live in faith that hope will ultimately triumph over hate.

Chalice Lighting: ‘Our Shared Humanity’ by Sara Eileen LaWall and Maureen Killoran (adapted)

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) 

Out of the flames of fear

We rise with courage of our deepest convictions

to stand for justice, inclusion and peace

Out of the flames of scrutiny

We rise to proclaim our faith

With hope to heal a fractured and hurting world

Out of the flames of doubt

We rise to embrace the mystery, wonder and awe

of all there is and all that is yet to be

Out of the flames of hate

We rise with the force of love

Love that celebrates our shared humanity

In these hard times, let us look first to the response of love.

May our chalice flame bear hopeful witness to the

inherent worth and dignity of every human being.

Hymn (on sheet): ‘A Church is a Living Fellowship’

Our first hymn this morning is on your hymn sheet: ‘A Church is a Living Fellowship’. For those on zoom the words will be up on screen for all our hymns. Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer.

A church is a living fellowship

More than a holy shrine,

Where people can share their hopes and fear,

Less of the yours and mine;

Where bonded by trust we search for Truth

Beyond the chains of creeds,

And thought can aspire to shine with fire

From all our deepest needs.

Let’s stretch out the open hand of Love,

Conquer the fists of hate,

Divided no more by voices of war,

Greeds of our mindless state.

We’ll take all our building bricks of Truth,

Make of them homes of Life,

A future to face the shame and disgrace

In all our past of strife.

A church is a place of human trust

More than of brick and stone;

Of Love we will sing to make it ring

In every joyous tone.

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 Laura Horton-Ludwig

Let’s take those joys and concerns into an extended time of prayer. This prayer is based on some words by Laura Horton-Ludwig. You might 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)

As people of faith, we seek to live in a spirit of love,

a spirit of community, justice, and peace.

And yet, in so many corners of the world both far and near,

we see exploitation and coercion, divisiveness and hate.

We struggle to respond to the outer world

and our inner dramas in ways that manifest love.

At times we may fear that love will not be strong enough.

At times we may question whether love really is at the root of all things,

in this world with so much struggle and discord. So much needless suffering.

This is the mystery within which we live and die.

These are the questions that haunt our days and nights.

And yet – despite everything – we are not quite without hope.

Our struggles and our questions testify to our longing for peace, for love.

In the stillness and silence of our own heart

we read the imprint of love: a light within.

May it keep hope alive, even through the toughest times.

May it guide us all, through our days, as we seek to act wisely and well.

May it help us to be vessels of compassion for one another and for our world. (pause)   

So in a few quiet moments let us take some time to pray inwardly the prayers of our own hearts;

calling to mind all those souls we know to be suffering this day, whether close to home, or on the

other side of the world. The world’s troubles can feel overwhelming; for now, let us focus on the

causes which call most strongly to our heart, and hold these sacred beings in the light of love. (pause)

Let us also pray for ourselves; we too are sacred beings who face our own struggles and muddle

through life’s ups and downs. So let us take a few moments to reflect on our own lives, and ask for

what we most need this day – maybe comfort, guidance, insight, or forgiveness – in order to

flourish. Let us offer up both our sufferings and our tender hopes to the One That Holds All. (pause)

And let us take just a little longer to remember the good things in life and give thanks for them.

Those moments in the past week where we’ve encountered generosity, kindness, or pleasure.

When others have reached out to us, helped us to get by, or the world’s beauty has overflowed.

Let us cultivate a spirit of gratitude as we recall all those moments that lifted our spirits. (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.

In-Person Reading: ‘We Are All More Human Than Otherwise’ by Richard S. Gilbert (adapted) (read by Antony)

The human race is a vast rainbow bursting into view – an infinite variety of colours.

Yet for all blood is red, the sky is blue, the earth brown, the night dark.

In size and shape we are a varied pattern

of tall and short, slim and stout, elegant and plain.

Yet for all there are fingers to touch, hearts to break,

eyes to cry, ears to hear, mouths to speak.

In tongue we are a tower of babel,

a great jumble of voices grasping for words,

groping for ways to say love, peace, pity, and hope.

Faiths compete, claiming the one way;

Saviours abound, pointing to salvation.

Not all can be right, not one.

We are united only by our urge to search.

Boundaries divide us, lines drawn to mark our differences,

maps charted to separate the human race from itself.

Yet a mother’s grief, a father’s love, a child’s cry,

a musician’s sound, an artist’s stroke, all these

dissolve the boundaries and shatter the walls.

Strength and weakness, arrogance and humility,

confidence and fear, live together in each one,

reminding us that we share a common humanity.

We are all more human than otherwise.

Hymn (on sheet): ‘Who Is My Neighbour?’

Let’s sing again – our second hymn is also on your hymn sheet – ‘Who Is My Neighbour?’ We sing this a lot but it seems ever more poignant and vital to affirm this message right now.   

Who is my neighbour? Every soul who lives upon the earth.

I have been called to treat each one with dignity and worth,

Working for justice, seeking peace and cultivating care,

Offering hope to those whose lives are laden with despair.

When I can ease another’s pain, I know I’ll do my part.

When I can bring another joy, I’ll open up my heart.

When I have more than someone else, I’ll share the things I can.

When I am tempted to be cruel, I’ll strive to understand.

Who is my neighbour? Earth itself and all the beings there:

Flora and fauna, fish and fowl, the trees that graze the air.

River and prairie, sea and sky I honour and respect.

These are my neighbours. These I vow to cherish and protect.

Oh, may we build a world where all have everything they need.

May we be free from hate and fear, from violence and from greed.

May our lives be tributes to compassion, love, and trust

Till we are kin to all the world and all are kin to us.

In-Person Reading: ‘I Sometimes Fear…’ by Michael Rosen (read by Roy)

The following is an excerpt from a speech that poet and author Michael Rosen gave back in 2019 and it concludes with his poem ‘I Sometimes Fear…’. He was speaking at a march for ‘Stand up to Racism and Fascism’, a protest here in London, one which had been long planned – as this is a concern sadly never seems to go away – but at that time the world’s attention was gripped by the horrific mass shootings that had taken place at a mosque and Islamic centre in Christchurch, New Zealand. 51 people had died, a further 89 injured, and the far-right perpetrator live-streamed the killings on Facebook, and published a manifesto laying out his white nationalist, anti-immigrant, fascist motivations.

Michael Rosen said: Today’s demonstration was planned long before the horror and terror of Christchurch, but it is that horror and terror we come together today to try to anticipate and to prevent. It is because we fear it and dread it that we fight against it. But what is it? I see the newspapers are busy trying to compare what happened in Christchurch with what they call other acts of terrorism. No need for that.  It is what the perpetrators say it is: white supremacism.

It’s been around for a long, long time.

It’s been used – sometimes by you, yourselves, newspaper people – to mock, deride and condemn minorities. It’s been used to justify invading and bombing other people’s countries. It’s been used by people in power to justify slavery, segregation, discrimination, persecution and genocide.

This tells me that it’s dangerous to trust those in power to fight it.

Too often, the people in power have been the perpetrators themselves. Too often, it’s people in power who’ve won their power and kept their power by scapegoating and persecuting minorities. Too often – newspaper people – you’ve helped the people in power do that scapegoating and persecuting.

It’s people in power who sent vans round saying to migrants: ‘Go home, or face arrest’.

It’s people in power who created what they called a ‘hostile environment’ for migrants.

It’s people in power who created the Windrush scandal.

And it was people in power in 1943 who ordered four policemen to knock on the door of my father’s uncle’s room at 2.30 in the morning in a little village in western France.

He had fought for France in the First World War. He was a French citizen. He had committed no crime, He wasn’t ever put on trial. In a well-organised, orderly way, according to the laws of the day, he was deported to Auschwitz and never came back. This is the kind of thing that people in power sometimes do. This is why I wrote a warning that I’ll read in a moment.

It’s dedicated to my parents, who, in the 1930s, fought Oswald Mosley and his British Union of Fascists on the streets of east London, right where they lived and went to school.  The government of the day gave permission to that British Union of Fascists to parade through those streets. It was only the collective action of hundreds of thousands of people that stopped them. My parents showed me that we ourselves have to organise, and to turn up, to stop the rise of racism and fascism, and they taught me that we must never forget that fascism often comes disguised. It often appears making promises.

The poem is called: I sometimes fear...

I sometimes fear...

...that people might think

that fascism only ever arrives in fancy dress

worn by grotesques and monsters

as played out in endless re-runs of the Nazis.

No. Not always so.

Fascism can arrive as your friend.

It can arrive saying that it will...

restore your honour,

make you feel proud,

protect your house,

give you a job,

clean up the neighbourhood,

clear out the venal and the corrupt

remind you of how great you once were,

remove anything you feel is unlike you...

It doesn't walk in saying,

"Our programme means:

militias,

mass imprisonments,

transportations,

war,

persecution

and mass murder."

They don't say that.

Words for Meditation: ‘The Gates of Hope’ by Victoria Safford

Thanks Roy. We’re moving into a time of meditation now. To take us into stillness I’m going to share a poem which will change the tone somewhat – it’s by the UU minister Victoria Safford – and it’s called ‘The Gates of Hope’ – it gestures at what it might require of us Unitarians if we are to point the way to a better way of being and to bring about change in this troubled world. The poem will take us into a few minutes of shared 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 – maybe adjust your position – put your feet flat on the floor to ground yourself – close your eyes. As we always say, the words are just an offering, so feel free to use this time to meditate in your own way.

‘The Gates of Hope’ by Victoria Safford

Our mission is to plant ourselves at the gates of Hope –

Not the prudent gates of Optimism,

Which are somewhat narrower.

Not the stalwart, boring gates of Common Sense;

Nor the strident gates of Self-Righteousness,

Which creak on shrill and angry hinges

(People cannot hear us there; they cannot pass through)

Not the cheerful, flimsy garden gate of

“Everything is gonna be all right.”

But a different, sometimes lonely place,

The place of truth-telling,

About your own soul first of all and its condition.

The place of resistance and defiance,

The piece of ground from which you see the world

Both as it is and as it could be

As it will be;

The place from which you glimpse not only struggle,

But the joy of the struggle.

And we stand there, beckoning and calling,

Telling people what we are seeing

Asking people what they see.

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

Interlude: Tangará - Guinga (performed by Georgia Morgan Turner) 

In-Person Reading: ‘Action is The Best Antidote to Despair’ by Rev. Meagan Henry (excerpts, adapted) (read by Julia)

“Action is the best antidote to despair.” These words from singer-songwriter and activist Joan Baez have been echoing in my mind lately as I’ve watched the news, scrolled through social media, and spoken with many of you about the state of our world. There’s a heaviness that accompanies our awareness — the knowledge that forces of division and injustice continue to gain ground in dangerous ways.

Many of us find ourselves asking: What difference can I possibly make? In the face of such daunting challenges, does what I do really matter? Friends, I believe the answer is an unequivocal yes. Each of us matters, and what we do matters—especially in times that test our values and our faith in humanity’s capacity for goodness – and so, I implore you now more than ever, do not give in to despair.

Despair is seductive. It whispers in our ears that our efforts are futile, that the forces of hatred and the machinery of oppression are just too powerful, that the arc of history might not bend toward justice after all. Despair tells us to retreat, to protect ourselves, to give up. It would be so easy… But make no mistake—despair serves such hostile forces well. Systems of oppression thrive when we believe ourselves powerless.

As Unitarians, we must continue to doggedly affirm the inherent worth and dignity of every person through our communal spiritual practice. It’s in our refusal to self-censor or otherwise shrink. In how we speak up, over and over. This principle of ours reminds us that each human life—including our own—carries immeasurable value and potential. We need to be as courageous as we can. History offers countless examples of how seemingly small actions created profound change. Every time we speak truth, question authority, or refuse to participate in dehumanizing systems, we create friction in the machinery of oppression. Our actions spread outward in ways we cannot fully measure. That letter you wrote to your representative, the conversation you had with your neighbour, the money you donated, the protest you attended—these actions touch others, inspire others, change others.

Some of us are called to direct political engagement. Others are called to community-building — creating gathering spaces where human dignity is honoured, constructing and maintaining systems of mutual aid – settings and structures where we practice the beloved community we wish to see in the larger world. Still others are called to education, to art, to care, in service of the good. We need each other—for inspiration, for accountability, for comfort when the work becomes difficult.

This is why progressive religious community matters so deeply in times like these. Here, we remind each other of our shared values. Here, we rest and renew ourselves for the work ahead. Remember that you don’t ever act alone. Together, we create a world of compassion, justice, and beloved community.

Meagan Henry concludes with a short prayer: Spirit of life and love, as we navigate these tumultuous and frightening times, may we be reminded that what we do matters, may we have the insight to discern where our action is most helpful, the strength to continue building a more just world, and the courage to take bold action when it is most needed. May we be gentle with ourselves in moments of despair, and may we always find our way back to action, and back to each other. For in action, and in one another, we find not just purpose – but hope. May it be so. Amen, and blessed be.

Reflection: by Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall

A couple of weeks ago, I was on my way back from Hucklow Summer School, which is in some ways – for me, at least – a little slice of heaven. For one week a year we create this little bubble in which we try to live like we wish the world would live. Fifty-odd Unitarians (and Friends) squashed together in one place and doing their best to build beloved community – looking out for each other – attempting to work around each other’s foibles and accommodate each other’s needs as best we can. We often speak of affirming ‘the inherent worth and dignity of every person’ but in this setting we really try to intentionally embody that key principle and put it into action. We try to practice right relationship. It’s hard work, and we don’t always get it right, but it’s a space that brings me hope. It's a little glimpse, a vision, of how things could be.

At the end of the week, inevitably, we all have to step out of the Summer School bubble and brace ourselves for re-entry into the world outside. It can be a shock to the system. Summer School nearly always finishes on the bank holiday weekend, and on many occasions in the past my dream-like post-Hucklow glow has been abruptly wrecked by the experience of stopping off in a motorway service station on the way home. The noise! The weight of humanity! The rudeness of people bumping and barging (after a week of people holding doors open for you – that was the thing I always used to notice – the lack of small courtesies – humanity is not generally seen at its best in a motorway service station on the August bank holiday).

This year, it was something different that burst my bubble. Sarah kindly gave me a lift home, and in the last few minutes of the journey, just as we drove over the Blue Bridge onto the Isle of Dogs I noticed there were a load of flags flying from lampposts. And someone had painted a red cross on the mini-roundabout. ‘What’s all that about?’, I wondered out loud. The week in Hucklow had been so full-on I hadn’t really been keeping up with the news. So Sarah filled me in. And my heart sank. We’ve been here before.

Back in the 90s the Island was at the centre of very unwelcome attention when a member of the British National Party unexpectedly won a seat on the local council. And for those who weren’t around at that time, the BNP were a splinter party from the National Front, an out-and-out fascist and white supremacist organisation, whose supporters were associated with racist violence and intimidation in the 70s and 80s. For my beloved Island, my home, to be suddenly associated with racists, was devastating. Repulsive. I was only a teenager but my instinctive reaction was clear: Not in my name.

After the BNP councillor was elected, the far-right became more visible in my area, including suddenly seeing skinheads in bomber jackets hanging around on the street, like a fascist cosplay convention. I don’t think they were locals, in the main – my impression is that lots of them were travelling from other areas to strut about the place – coming for a day out as if the Island was some kind of racist theme park for them to play in. But also, thankfully, anti-fascist organisations turned their attention to the area too, and a good number of previously indifferent people woke up, lent their energies to resisting this menace. Membership of the Anti-Nazi League and Anti-Fascist Action grew rapidly. And the councillor was voted out again within a year – though the number of votes he got increased, troublingly – but people who might otherwise have been apathetic about local elections got the vote out and voted to get rid of him. And many of us celebrated. That particular battle had been won. The ‘silent majority’ mostly wanted the racist out. The skinhead away-days fizzled out and they weren’t so visible on the streets any more.

But of course, sadly, that wasn’t the end of the story. Those attitudes are clearly still very much around. As an aside, when I went to check my facts about this historical event, on the BBC ‘On This Day’ website, the headline was: ‘1993: Shock as Racist Wins Council Seat’. That headline caught my attention as, it seems to me, reporting these days wouldn’t put it quite so plainly. Somehow it seems that much media coverage nowadays is complicit in normalising such views. The article also reminded me that part of the context for that electoral win was other, mainstream, parties – notably, at that time, the Liberal Democrats – playing with racist dog-whistles and anti-immigrant rhetoric in their own campaigning and helping to establish false and damaging narratives about the local Asian community in particular. As the mainstream parties and the media pander to these racist, xenophobic, anti-immigrant attitudes, it shifts the Overton Window – that is, it shifts the range of ideas that are considered politically acceptable – and in recent years that window has been hurtling to the right. And the reading that Roy gave for us earlier, from Michael Rosen, reminds us of where that can ultimately lead. 

But where are we now? And what is ours to do at this moment in time? This moment when a small minority of individuals are spraying red crosses on anything that stands still long enough and weaponizing this nation’s flag to galvanise the forces of hatred. It’s worth acknowledging, I think, that this country’s flag does not actually belong to the far-right – though for many of us they have indelibly tainted it by association – but some anti-racists are trying to reclaim it. This week Billy Bragg, for example, has been giving away little stickers for people to stick on lampposts with the flag of St. George and the words ‘No to Hate – It’s Our Flag Too’.  Others are changing their social media profiles to this image. Billy Bragg voiced his concern that ‘the people responsible for the recent spate of flag-flying are seeking to divide our community into Us and Them’ and said he hoped that his stickers would ‘make it clear that the flag belongs to all of us and should not be used to stoke hatred and division.’ And with a little ironic nod to the bad-faith claims of some protestors, he concluded: ‘Given that those who put the flags up claim this is not their purpose, I’m sure they will welcome this clarification.’

When I read accounts of anti-immigrant protests – including one on the Isle of Dogs just last week (which ended with a police officer being punched and four being arrested) – I am sorry to admit that I felt frightened. Which, I think, is what they want. When I see social media dominated by the voices of bullies, I am scared of being abused. It makes me want to keep my head down. Which, I think, is what they want. Simultaneously, I knew what this week’s service had to be about, and I was nervous about speaking out.

What finally nudged me into action was this: An old friend from my schooldays, Ajanta, lives in Epping, and she’s lived there happily for many years. She doesn’t post a lot on social media but she shared something from a local group called ‘Epping for Everyone’ who describe themselves as ‘group of residents from Epping who are deeply committed to building a community rooted in respect, compassion, and facts not fear.’ It lifts up the voices of locals – of all races and origins – whose lives are being blighted by the so-called protestors. These seem to be, in many cases, trouble-makers travelling in from afar to harass and intimidate not just the refugees that are the focus of their blame, but anyone who gets in their way. It is racially-aggravated antisocial behaviour, and drunken disorder, and the majority of Epping residents want nothing to do with it. And that’s where this group, ‘Epping for Everyone’ comes in, as it aims to give voice to this ‘silent majority’. 

One simple but meaningful gesture they have initiated is to invite supporters, people of goodwill, to tie colourful ribbons to railings on the high street, as ‘a reminder that our town chooses love, hope and community over hate.’ This visible symbol of unity matters. If all we can see, if all that is portrayed in the media, is images of rage and intimidation, we might be tempted to think this is the majority view – it can normalise extremism. If this goes unchallenged, even more people might be tempted to give credence to the lie that immigrants and asylum-seekers are the cause of all our country’s problems, rather than seeing that they are being cynically manipulated into making scapegoats of them.

If this is not the world we want to see – then we need to do something about it – and what that looks like might be different for each of us according to our circumstances. It’s no good being a ‘silent majority’, disapproving behind closed doors, and hoping it will all blow over without us having to get involved. I find myself thinking of the saying from Howard Zinn: ‘you can’t be neutral on a moving train’. He clarifies: ‘The world is already moving in certain directions. And to be neutral, to be passive, in a situation like that, is to collaborate with what is going on.’  Saying or doing nothing is, functionally, complicity.

As we heard in the reading that Julia gave for us earlier, from Meagan Henry, some of us are called to direct action and political engagement. We do need people who are courageous enough to put their bodies on the line, who will turn up at counter-protests, or go on the March Against Fascism which is taking place in London next Saturday. But this is not the only way to make a difference. We can speak up in our personal lives – and this also takes courage – if people in our circles are spreading misinformation, or scapegoating, or engaging in hate speech – we must not let it pass without comment. Sometimes social awkwardness is an obstacle to doing the right thing. Be brave. I’m not suggesting you should get drawn into bad-faith arguments on social media – I suspect most keyboard warriors are not especially susceptible to reason or compassion as the motivation, the psychological entrenchment, is more about belonging to a group – and getting embroiled in the culture wars is a demoralising, exhausting, distraction.

Instead of being reactive we might be proactive – positively articulating our own vision of how the world could be – re-affirming our values – building beloved community.  And doing that out loud – as an embodied example and an encouragement to others – ‘being the change we want to see in the world’ as the well-worn saying goes. And I think that’s what we’re doing here, together, as a congregation, week-in-week out.

I want to close with an echo of the words we heard earlier from Victoria Safford: ‘Our mission is to plant ourselves at the gates of Hope… a different, sometimes lonely place, the place of truth-telling, about your own soul first of all and its condition. The place of resistance and defiance, the piece of ground from which you see the world both as it is and as it could be… and we stand there, beckoning and calling.’ Amen.

Hymn 130 (purple): ‘Ours is a Town for Everyone’

Our final hymn is number 130 in your purple books: ‘Ours is a Town for Everyone’. Hymn 130.

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.

Announcements:

Thanks to Ramona for hosting and Lochlann for co-hosting. Thanks to Georgia and Andrew for lovely music today. Thanks to Benjie for supporting our singing. Thanks to Antony, Roy, and Julia for reading. Thanks to Juliet for greeting and Julia for making coffee. If you are in-person we’ve got more cake than we know what to do with as I’d ordered in a couple of fancy cakes for the tea dance – which we’ve had to cancel due to the tube strike – so do help us eat it up.  

Tonight and Friday at 7pm we’ve got our ‘Heart and Soul’ online contemplative spiritual gathering – this week we’re considering ‘Music’ – email me if you want to join us and I’ll share the link.

Sonya is back with Nia Dance from this coming Friday at 12.30pm.

Our Art Play Crafternoons are coming back on the third Sunday of the month. I would love to know if you’re planning to come along and support this endeavour – I’d appreciate the company – we simply get all the art materials out of the cupboard to play with (or you can bring your own crafts).

The Better World Book Club is reading ‘Normally Weird and Weirdly Normal’ by Robin Ince and I have one last copy of that to lend out if you want to come along on Zoom on the 28^th September.   

Our autumn newsletter is here! Please take a copy if you haven’t already had one in the post this week. And we have a last-minute addition to the autumn programme to draw your attention to – me and Charlotte are offering a six-part engagement group online – it’s a re-run of the course we ran at summer school this year on ‘The Religious Life’. Have a look at the description in the newsletter to find out more. Places are strictly limited to twelve and we need you to commit.

Next Sunday I’ll be back to lead our ‘Gathering the Waters’ service which will be followed by a congregational lunch on – please bring along some water (tap water is fine!) from wherever you go -Pat and Anna are going to be coordinating the lunch so please let them know what you plan to bring.

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. Just time for our closing words and closing music now.  

Benediction: based on words by Tim Haley

We walk this earth but a brief moment in time.

Amid our suffering and pain, however great or small,

let us continue to learn how to celebrate life in all its variety.

Let us continue to grow in our capacity to love ourselves and each other.

And let us continue to move toward the goal of a better world,

a global community of peace, justice, joy and liberation for all.

Go this day in a renewed spirit of courage and hope

and with the wisdom to greet the week to come. Amen.

Closing Music: Asa Branca - Gilberto Gil (performed by Georgia Morgan Turner)                                   

Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall

7th September 2025