Keep On Keeping On

Sunday Service, 29 March 2026

Led by Dr. Patricia Brewerton

(video and audio to follow after the event)

Musical Prelude: Theme from the Rococo Variations - Tchaikovsky arr. Paul Harris (performed by Benjie del Rosario and Andrew Robinson)     

Opening Words: ‘Justice Is Our Prayer’ by Rebekah Savage

We gather today with the sacred intention

to declare that Justice is our prayer.

We affirm that Beloved Community is possible.

Not here, not quite yet.

The seeds have been planted time and again,

and we remember all those who went before us

who made Beloved Community a dream that could be realized.

Justice is our prayer.

May our time together continue to water

the budding trees of our diverse interdependence.

May it give air and nourishment to the parts of our collective spirits

that need to grow and thrive;

that embrace equity as a known way of being.

Justice is our prayer.

And we affirm that it is possible. (pause)

Words of Welcome and Introduction: 

These words from Rebekah Savage welcome everyone to our service this morning. Welcome to you here in Essex Church and to those joining us on Zoom or tuning in later via YouTube or listening to the podcast stream.

For anyone who doesn’t know me, I am Patricia Brewerton and I am a member of this congregation.  Our service this morning is about keeping on … keeping on doing what we can to create a world of justice and peace and to keep on hoping that someday our dream will come true.

Chalice Lighting: ‘A Symbol of Our Faith’ by Pat Uribe-Lichty

Let us light our chalice as we do each week.  This simple ritual connects us with Unitarian and Unitarian Universalist congregations everywhere and reminds us of the proud and historic progressive religious tradition of which this gathering is part.  It is a moment to settle down, put aside anything that is troubling you, ready to share this special time together.

(light chalice) 

The chalice is a symbol of our faith:

Like our faith, it is not magic

nor is it mysterious.

We light it

as a reminder of what we share

as a community

and of who, each of us, is called to be.

When we feel lost in a chaotic world

May the light of our chalice show us our path.

When we are afraid of the times we live in

May the light of our chalice give us courage.

When we despair at the injustice and cruelty around us

May the light of our chalice recall us to a faithful hope.

Our chalice is a symbol

of our commitment to each other

and to ourselves.

We light it today

as a gathered community

that we may understand more completely

and act more boldly

and hope more fiercely.

Hymn 38 (grey): ‘Morning Has Broken’

Time to sing our first hymn.  It is number 38 in your grey hymnbooks: ‘Morning Has Broken’. It’s my favourite morning hymn – whatever the weather but especially when the sun is shining. For those joining from home the words will be up on your screens.  Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer. Let’s sing up to greet the day.

Morning has broken, like the first morning,

Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird.

Praise for the singing! Praise for the morning!

Praise for them springing, fresh from the Word!

Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven,

Like the first dewfall on the first grass.

Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden,

Sprung in completeness where God’s feet pass.

Mine is the sunlight!  Mine is the morning!

Born of the one light, Eden saw play!

Praise with elation, praise every morning,

God's recreation of the new day!  

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 Andrew Usher

Let’s take those joys and concerns into an extended time of prayer. This prayer is based on some words by Andrew Usher. 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 helps you get into the right state of body and mind for us to pray together – to 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)

We are gathered this morning from many places and with many differing thoughts, and we pause now in the quiet to reflect on our lives, our hopes and dreams, our doubts and fears, those things we regret doing and those things which bring us joy. (pause)

We pray for a better world – a more peaceful and caring world and we ask for the strength and courage to keep on doing whatever is needed to fulfil our dreams of justice however futile those dreams may seem.

We recognise that too often we fall short of our ideals; we are too willing to give up our dreams of justice. We know that we aren’t always as peaceful and caring as we want to be.  We pray for the vision to recognise our failures as part of what it means to be human. And in recognising our own failures may we be more willing to forgive the failures of others.

We call to mind those who live in conditions we would find difficult to accept. Those living in damp and mouldy accommodation.  We think of those who work to provide our needs, whose work is often physically demanding; those who face bullying and discrimination in the workplace. And all those whose lives are made more difficult by poverty and uncertainty.

We turn our thoughts to the wider world.  We think of those living in lands torn apart by war, where hunger and violence are their everyday experience.  We remember those forced to flee their homes again and again in order to survive.  We remember that we all live in the same world and we cannot turn away from what is happening in lands far away. (pause)

And let us bring to mind those people we love, family, friends and neighbours. Those who are suffering, those whom we haven’t seen for too long. And let us remember to be thankful for the love we share with them and the joy they bring into our lives.

As we pause now in the quietness of our own thoughts, let us reflect on both the blessings and the trials of our lives and dedicate ourselves to sharing our blessings and to doing what we can to ease the trials of others. (longer 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 121 (grey): ‘We’ll Build a Land’

Let’s sing again now – our second hymn is number 121 – ‘We’ll Build a Land’. I know we usually sing this at the end of the service but it fits better here today.

We'll build a land where we bind up the broken.

We'll build a land where the captives go free,

where the oil of gladness dissolves all mourning.

O, we'll build a promised land that can be.

Come build a land where sisters and brothers,

anointed by God, may then create peace:

where justice shall roll down like waters,

and peace like an ever flowing stream.

We'll build a land where we bring the good tidings

to all the afflicted and all those who mourn.

And we'll give them garlands instead of ashes.

O, we'll build a land where peace is born.

Come build a land where sisters and brothers,

anointed by God, may then create peace:

where justice shall roll down like waters,

and peace like an ever flowing stream.

We'll be a land building up ancient cities,

raising up devastations of old;

restoring ruins of generations.

O, we'll build a land of people so bold.

Come build a land where sisters and brothers,

anointed by God, may then create peace:

where justice shall roll down like waters,

and peace like an ever flowing stream.

Come, build a land where the mantles of praises

resound from spirits once faint and once weak;

where like oaks of righteousness stand her people.

O, come build the land, my people we seek.

Come build a land where sisters and brothers,

anointed by God, may then create peace:

where justice shall roll down like waters,

and peace like an ever flowing stream.

Reading: ‘A Talent for Hope’ by Palestine Poet Mahmoud Darwish

When he thought about hope he felt weary and bored, and constructed a mirage and said “How shall I evaluate my mirage?” He searched in his desk drawers for the person he was before asking this question but found no notes containing thoughtless or destructive urges.  Nor did he find a document confirming he had stood in the rain for no reason.  When he thought about hope, the gap widened between a body that was longer agile and a heart that had acquired wisdom.  He did not repeat the question “who am I” because he was so upset by the smell of lilies and the neighbours’ loud music.  He opened the window on what remained of a horizon and saw two cats playing with a puppy in the narrow street, and a dove building a nest in a chimney, and he said: ‘Hope is not the opposite of despair.  Perhaps it is the faith that springs from divine indifference which has left us dependent on our own special talents to make sense of the fog surrounding us’ He said “Hope is neither something tangible nor an idea.  It is a talent”.  He took a beta blocker, putting the question of hope aside, and for some obscure reason felt quite happy.”

Reading: ‘Hope: An Owner’s Manual’ by Barbara Kingsolver

Look, you might as well know, this thing

is going to take endless repair: rubber bands,

crazy glue, tapioca, the square of the hypotenuse.

Nineteenth century novels. Heartstrings, sunrise:

all of these are useful. Also, feathers.

To keep it humming, sometimes you have to stand

on an incline, where everything looks possible;

on the line you drew yourself. Or in

the grocery line, making faces at a toddler

secretly, over his mother’s shoulder.

You might have to pop the clutch and run

past all the evidence. Past everyone who is

laughing or praying for you. Definitely you don’t

want to go directly to jail, but still, here you go,

passing time, passing strange. Don’t pass this up.

In the worst of times, you will have to pass it off.

Park it and fly by the seat of your pants. With nothing

in the bank, you’ll still want to take the express.

Tiptoe past the dogs of the apocalypse that are sleeping

in the shade of your future. Pay at the window.

Pass your hope like a bad check.

You might still have just enough time. To make a deposit.

Words for Meditation: ‘The Seeds of Something Sacred’ by Dr. Zelena Montminy

We are going into a time of meditation now and to lead us into this I am going to read some words from Dr Zelena Montminy.  Then there will be 3 minutes of silence which will end with the sound of a bell.  Then we will have some lovely music from Benjie and Andrew.

So do what you need to do to be comfortable, adjust your position, put down anything you don’t need to be carrying, put your feet flat on the floor and maybe close your eyes.  Whatever helps you to settle into this time.  The words I am going to read are just an offering.  Feel free to meditate in your own way.

There’s a certain kind of ache I’ve been feeling lately.   It lives in my chest.  It lives in my breath.  It lives in the way I find myself staring out of the window searching for something I can’t quite name.  

A framework – a shared understanding of decency, of truth, of what’s right and what’s way, way, off.

What does it mean to create a life rooted in something real, when so much of the world feels hollow.  How do we reclaim the sacred in the middle of a system built on distraction.

If you too are aching today, you are not alone.

We can’t fix a fractured world, but we can choose to be a force of repair inside it.

By naming what hurts instead of numbing it.

By making space for wonder

By tending to our corner of the world with care.

By telling the truth.

These are not small things

They are the seeds of something sacred.

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

Interlude: The Shadow of Your Smile - Johnny Mandell arr. Oliver Ledbury (performed by Benjie del Rosario and Andrew Robinson)     

Reading: ‘Hope is a Form of Resistance’ by David Joseph Junior

Hope is not a wish—

it is a weapon.

Hope wears work boots,

not wings.

It is built

in soup kitchens,

in protest lines,

in pews where tired saints

still raise holy hands

for justice not yet seen.

Hope stands

when grief says sit.

It rises

when oppression says kneel.

It keeps marching

when the road

has been paved

with disappointment.

There are names

we remember

because hope kept them alive.

Songs that survived

because someone believed

the melody mattered.

Movements that breathed

because a mother refused

to let her child

grow up

believing nothing could change.

Hope resists

not because it is blind,

but because it sees too much

to give up.

Hope is not naïve.

It knows the weight of history,

but carries it anyway.

It is not quiet—

it’s the drumbeat

beneath the chant,

the tremble in the voice

that still says yes

when the world has said no.

So, we carry hope

like fire

in our chests.

We pass it

like torches

down crowded streets

and family tables.

We protect it,

not because it is fragile,

but because it is sacred.

And in the days

when the sky grows heavy,

when your voice feels small,

when the world seems unmoved—

remember:

Hope is not for the untested.

Hope is for the bold.

Hope is how we resist

without becoming what we resist.

Hope is how we rise,

how we rebuild,

how we remember

that we are still here—

not by accident,

but by audacity.

Because hope, true hope,

will always be

the beginning

of freedom.

Reflection: ‘Keep On Keeping On’ by Dr. Patricia Brewerton

When Jane asked if I could stand in for her today as she needs to be at General Assembly, she mentioned that it was Palm Sunday.  But, she added, we don’t usually celebrate Palm Sunday.  However, when planning a service, you have to start somewhere and the story of Jesus entry into Jerusalem seemed to me to be a good place to start.

Today in what I think of as Mainstream Churches people will be celebrating Palm Sunday.  The clergy may wear red vestments, and the congregation given crosses made from a single palm leaf.  In some places they will process into church carrying palm fronds to symbolise the entry into Jerusalem.

I am sure you all know the story which starts with a couple of disciples being sent to borrow a colt or an ass on which Jesus will be carried into the city.    As Jesus enters Jerusalem a crowd greets him.  They form a procession and spread their garments in front of him.  They wave palms and shout Hosanna.

It is a loud, lively and joyful manifestation of hope. People, living under foreign occupation and oppressed by a religious elite, marching together in support of someone or something that they believe will make their lives better. 

Reading further on in the story you discover that not surprisingly this religious elite is mightily troubled. They get together to grumble and plot.  They need to find a way to deal with a situation that they fear may get out of hand and challenge their authority.  But “they feared the multitude.” In the end, as we know, they do find a way and finally get Jesus sentenced to death.

People coming together to speak out against a regime which is oppressing them or their community, as we have seen recently, still troubles those in power mightily.  And the answer still seems to be to use violence.   Or, more subtly, to devise and pass laws to suppress any demonstration of solidarity with the oppressed.

Of course, not everyone who takes to the streets is calling for justice and peace.  We have seen some ugly and violent scenes on our streets in the last year or so.  And a short while after Jesus was greeted with palms and hosannas a crowd took to the street to demand his death. 

Fifty years ago, my friend, Jen, and I pushed our prams along Brentwood High Street on a march to “lift the weight on the 128”.  Following the death of a young cyclist we wanted heavy lorries banned from the A128 which ran through the town.  We have since marched together many times. We marched to stop the bomb, to end apartheid in South Africa and with over a million others, including, I am sure, some of you, we marched against the war in Iraq. 

But when I asked if she would join me in a march for Palestine, she declined saying that she couldn’t see the point anymore because marching had never achieved anything.  Maybe she has a point – heavy lorries do no longer go along the A128, although I must admit that has more to do with the M25 which now bypasses the town than our march.  How much marches did to change the regime in South Africa we cannot know.  Sadly, the world still faces the threat of nuclear weapons and wars in the Middle East have certainly not gone away. But people coming together to demand change must have some effect or otherwise governments would not feel a need to prevent them.

Most of us have a yearning for a better future for the world.  Maybe it is homelessness, maybe it is hunger and poverty, maybe it is the environment that concerns you most.  I am sure all of us find our hearts moved by some cause or other. Sometimes there is something practical you can do.  You can volunteer in a food bank; you can peel vegetables to provide a hot meal for hungry people.  You can show your concern by donating to a particular cause.

But for some of us, sometimes the situation demands that we take to the streets to call for justice however futile that may seem.  The American historian and activist Rachel Solnit argues that “actions often ripple beyond their immediate objective and remembering this is a reason …. to act in the hope that what you do matters even when the results are unlikely to be immediate or obvious. The future is unwritten and part of what happens is up to us”. 

In a recent article she writes “we are …  social animals and we need to be with other people”.  Solnit suggests that there is a sense of belonging that goes deeper than words especially when we are with like-minded people – a congregation in prayer or thousands on a march.

And I can testify to this.  Joining a congregation in prayer and joining thousands on a march does bring a sense of belonging, of being with people who share my longing for peace and justice. That’s why I keep on doing both. 

We have just sung about building a land where justice will roll down like water and peace like an ever-flowing stream.  I don’t suppose anyone here really thinks we can do this just by singing about it.  We recognise that it’s just not that easy to fix all the things that are wrong with the world. Nor do I expect governments to respond to our demands for a free Palestine any time soon. Nevertheless, I keep joining with the many thousands who have marched and plan to keep marching.  We sing and we march because these are ways of keeping hope alive – of keeping on, keeping on.  “Hope” Solnit writes “is not a naïve ignorance of the world, far from it. It is a feeling that moves us away from easy despair to act courageously”. 

Even if it seems we can change nothing, we can at least show our support for those who are suffering in our world.  We have recently witnessed the support people of Minneapolis have shown their neighbours by risking their lives to protest the presence of ICE on their streets or by simply taking food and medicines to neighbours too frightened to leave their homes in case they are arrested and deported. 

Our cellist Abby shared a photo with me of the First Unitarian Society’s Justice choir of Minneapolis singing in the Capitol Rotunda in Wisconsin in solidarity with Health Workers calling for justice for Alex Pretti the nurse shot dead by federal agents in Minneapolis in January – 200 people just singing together for justice.

On protest marches these days no-one sings “Hosanna”.   They chant slogans and a favourite of mine is “We are the people – we won’t be silent”.  

That’s it - We ARE the people – so let’s not be silent but keep on doing what we can to bring about the future world we long for. Amen.

Hymn (on sheet): ‘Resistance Song’

Time for one last hymn, it’s on your hymn sheets, ‘Resistance Song’.   We sang this for the first time recently and Jane agreed that we could sing it again today.  It seems to fit.

In a time of pain when evil reigns and despair has the upper hand / When the

ones with might are convinced they’re right as their harm cuts across the land,

We won’t back down. We will not give ground for hope has made us strong.

We have placed our trust in a God who’s just as we sing a resistance song.

They think they’ve won but we’ve just begun, and we will not be dismissed.

Till we meet the dawn we will struggle on. With hope we will resist.

In a time of rage, in a violent age when power is built on fear,

When they kill with ease and the least of these are the first to disappear,

We won’t back down. We will not give ground for peace has made us strong.

Let them call for war. We will say “no more” as we sing a resistance song.

They think they’ve won but we’ve just begun though they raise a threatening fist.

We will do God’s will till the guns fall still. With peace we will resist.

In a time of grief, when there’s no relief from the sadness deep inside,

When their harshest goal is to steal our souls and to rob us of our pride,

We won’t back down. We will not give ground for joy has made us strong.

There’s a holy care that we meet in prayer as we sing a resistance song.

They think they’ve won but we’ve just begun, and in wonder we persist.

We will shout our praise till the end of days. With joy we will resist.

In a time so cruel when they call us fools for the empathy that we feel,

When compassion seems like a distant dream, and unfairness is all too real,

We won’t back down. We will not give ground for love has made us strong.

With our open hearts we will do our parts as we sing a resistance song.

They think they’ve won but we’ve just begun, and their hatred will not be missed.

We have known God’s call. Love will conquer all so with love we will resist.

Announcements:

Thanks to Ramona for hosting and Jeannene for co-hosting. Thanks to Benjie and Andrew for lovely music. Thanks to our readers. Thanks to Juliet for greeting and Julia for making coffee. If you are in-person do stay for coffee, cake and a chat. If you’re online stay for a chat with Jeannene if you can. 

Tonight and Friday at 7pm we’ve got our online ‘Heart and Soul’ online contemplative spiritual gathering – this week it’s on ‘Knowing Our Limits’ – sign up with Jane if you want to join.

On Wednesday evening there’s the poetry group with Brian, in person here at church, let him know if you’re planning to come along to that, and tell him what poem you plan to share.

Next Sunday it’s our Easter Service with special music from our quartet of singers. Jane will be back for that. And we’re going to have a bring-and-share lunch after the service next week, and Marianne has kindly volunteered to coordinate that, so please sign up to let Marianne know what food or drink you are planning to bring along, so we can make sure we’ve got enough.

Looking a bit further ahead we’ve changed the date for our next walk, we’re now meeting on Tuesday 21^st April, and we’ll explore Greenwich Park and possibly also Mudchute Farm.

And this month the book club is reading ‘Finding the Mother Tree’ by Suzanne Simard and we have a few copies to lend out. Let Jane know if you borrow a copy and/or if you plan to come.

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 take a newsletter. 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 Robin F. Gray

The flame is extinguished,

but not our hope for the future,

our courage in the face of crisis,

or the love we share in all the world. Amen.

Closing Music: Bidin’ My Time - George Gershwin arr. Oliver Ledbury (performed by Benjie del Rosario and Andrew Robinson)    

Dr. Patricia Brewerton

29th March 2026