Sunday Service, 12 January 2025
Led by Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall
Musical Prelude: Spring Song by Frank Bridge (performed by Abby Lorimier and George Ireland)
Opening Words: ‘In Faith’ by Sunshine Jeremiah Wolfe (adapted)
This is a congregation that gathers in faith.
We gather in faith of the power of diversity, the power of love,
and the hope of a world transformed by our care.
We gather in faith in ourselves and those around us.
Not a faith that requires perfection or rightness in one another.
Rather, a faith that in our shared imperfection we may learn to stumble and fall together.
Faith that we will help one another to rise and to try again and again.
We gather to engage and re-engage with the path towards peace and justice.
This morning, let us take another step along that long road, as we
do what we can to perfect this precious world together. (pause)
Words of Welcome and Introduction:
These words adapted from some by Sunshine Jeremiah Wolfe welcome all who have gathered this bright and chilly 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 watching or listening at a later date. For anyone who doesn’t know me, I’m Jane Blackall, and I’m minister with Kensington Unitarians.
This morning service is ‘On Perfection’ – that’s perfection in the sense used by Georges Roditi in the words that are on the front of your order of service – he wrote: 'Behind the word perfection, we should see the verb to perfect, endowing it with the same active meaning: an effort, an endeavour, not something finally accomplished.’ It’s perfection as a process, a striving, a direction of travel. And the choice of theme was inspired partly by this little book published last year: ‘The Perfectionist’s Guide to Losing Control’ by Katherine Morgan Schafler. Perfectionism is a trait that’s often presented in a negative light, but as the author argues, that doesn’t tell the full story; a drive toward perfection is something we can harness – with care – for the betterment of the world. This morning we’ll consider how (and why) we might seek a middle way: both striving for perfection and accepting imperfection.
Chalice Lighting: ‘The Nurturing Light’ by Simon John Barlow (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)
By the lighting of this chalice – this simple, sacred ritual –
Let us celebrate the nurturing light of the Divine,
that cosmic unity which connects, enthuses, and uplifts all creation.
Let us celebrate the nurturing light of Humanity
which urges us to choose the paths of goodness, to seek our better selves.
And let us celebrate the nurturing light within,
which awakens deep in our being all the possibilities of who and what we may yet become.
Hymn 174 (green): ‘A Church is a Living Fellowship’
Let’s sing together. Our first hymn this morning is number 174 in your green hymn book, ‘A Church is a Living Fellowship’. For those joining via zoom the words will be up on screen (as they will for all our hymns). Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer and let’s sing up as best we can.
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 briefly who or what you light your candle for. I’m going to ask you to come to the lectern to speak this time as I really want people to be able to hear you and I don’t want to keep nagging you about getting close to the handheld mic. And if you can’t get to the microphone give me a wave and I’ll bring a handheld mic over to you. Thank 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 Harry Lismer Short
Let’s take those joys and concerns into an extended time of prayer. This prayer is based on some quite old-fashioned, but also quite profound, words by Harry Lismer Short. 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)
Spirit of Life, God of All Love, you are
ever calling us to live truly towards you,
and towards all those fellow human beings
with whom we share this earth, our home.
There is something in this world –
in its frequent beauty, its stirring life,
its onward flowing time – which moves our hearts.
There is the call of duty, and of human need,
and of friendship and companionship,
which forbids us to take a selfish ease.
There is a stirring within our own hearts too –
desire for goodness, a hatred of wrongdoing,
a plea that we may be of service to a greater cause.
All summon us to do the best we can with our lives.
Give us the power to respond to your calling.
Cleanse our hearts; clarify our moral sense,
prevent us from excuses and subterfuges.
Here is a world which needs us, each in our place.
Each of us a unique individual, so that no-one else
can do the work which has been entrusted to us.
Let us know that we are enough just as we are;
and give us some happiness in our onward striving.
We look out on a troubled world, where there are so many fears and dangers.
In great affairs, perhaps, we can do little; but we do not know how much
we may contribute through our faithfulness in small things.
Help us to be amongst those who lift up and sustain.
We hold out hands of friendship and solidarity to all peoples of the world,
and pray that if opportunity for good comes to us we may not be found wanting.
Spirit of Life, God of All Love, we offer ourselves and our lives to you,
with all their imperfections, and pray that we may be used for good. (pause)
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 in sites around the world, where natural disasters and human actions are causing harm.
Let us pray for transformation as we hold all these sacred beings in the light of love. (pause)
Let us also pray for ourselves and our own private needs; we too are sacred beings who face our own daily struggles and opportunities, as we each muddle through life’s many ups and downs.
So let us take a few moments to reflect on our own lives, and inwardly ask for what we most need this day – perhaps comfort, courage, or guidance – to help us face the week to come. (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 kindness, beauty, pleasure, or fun.
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.
Hymn (on sheet): ‘The Church Where Love Lives’
Let’s sing again now – our next hymn is on your hymn sheets, ‘The Church Where Love Lives’ – this is a new-ish hymn, a contemporary worship song, and we did have a got at trying to learn it last summer but we haven’t had it in a while. I hope some of you had a listen on YouTube beforehand. Let’s hear it played through in full – verse and chorus – before we sing. And let’s give it our best shot as it’s a fantastic message which says something about our aspirations as a community.
The church where love lives is a safe place for all
Where we gather in wonder to remember God’s call,
To embody God’s vision of kindness and care
With each song that we sing, with each protest and prayer.
On this sacred foundation of faith and of trust
We are building a world that is gentle and just.
We rejoice and repent, offer praise and forgive
And we welcome all people to the church where love lives.
The church where love lives draws the stranger inside,
Making neighbours of strangers, no neighbour denied,
Till there’s heaven on earth and God’s will has been done,
Till the whole of creation is restored to its home.
On this sacred foundation of faith and of trust
We are building a world that is gentle and just.
We rejoice and repent, offer praise and forgive
And we welcome all people to the church where love lives.
The church where love lives is preparing a feast
For the pained and rejected, for the lost and the least,
For the deeply afraid, for the truly ashamed.
Come and sit at our table. Love has called you by name.
On this sacred foundation of faith and of trust
We are building a world that is gentle and just.
We rejoice and repent, offer praise and forgive
And we welcome all people to the church where love lives.
Reading: ‘The Perfectionist’s Guide to Losing Control’ by Katherine Morgan Schafler (excerpts, adapted) (Julia to read)
Perfectionists are not balanced people, and that’s OK. If you were sitting across from me on my therapist couch right now, we could share confidential eye rolls over how you’ve been told ad nauseam that perfectionists set themselves free by getting rid of their perfectionism. I’m telling you right now that that will never work. Instead, start by being honest with yourself about who you are.
Our collective portrayal of perfectionism is deeply skewed and highly selective. It leads with the negative aspects to demonstrate how perfectionism is bad and concludes that perfectionists are unhealthy and need to be fixed. Perfectionism is a powerful energy and, like every kind of power, if you don’t understand how to harness it correctly it will corrupt your life. Perfectionism makes an excellent servant and a terrible master; let’s be honest about that.
Interestingly (read: predictably), the push to curb perfectionism and be “perfectly imperfect” is mostly directed towards women. Have you ever heard a man refer to himself as a “recovering perfectionist”? When Steve Jobs, Gordon Ramsay, or James Cameron demand perfection, they’re exalted as geniuses in their respective fields. Where are the celebrated female perfectionists?
Here’s one question I’ve been asking myself for a long time: What do people mean when they say, ‘I’m a perfectionist’? The colloquial definition of what it means to be a perfectionist is reduced to the following: a perfectionist is someone who wants everything to be perfect all the time and who gets upset when things aren’t perfect. It’s not that simple.
When people say, ‘I’m a perfectionist,’ they’re not saying that they expect themselves to be perfect, others to be perfect, the weather to be perfect, all events that unfold in life to be perfect.
Perfectionists are intelligent people who understand that everything can’t work out perfectly all the time. What they sometimes have trouble with is understanding why they still fill so disappointed by imperfection in the face of that intellectual concession. What they sometimes wonder about is why they feel so compelled to endlessly strive. What they’re sometimes confused about is what they’re striving for in the first place. What they often question is why they can’t just enjoy relaxing “like a normal person”. What they want to know is who they are outside of what they accomplish.
Perfectionism does not have to be a struggle. You do not have to stop being a perfectionist to be healthy. You cannot shut off your desire to ascend. Remember: your perfectionism is a gift to you, and you are a gift to the world.
Words for Meditation: adapted from ‘The Secret Life of God’ by David Aaron
We’re moving into a time of meditation now. To take us into stillness I’m going to share some words from David Aaron, a teacher of Jewish mysticism, from his book ‘The Secret Life of God’. Though his words are very much grounded in his own tradition, I hope you’ll be able to connect with them, even if you’re not someone who uses God-language; there’s still something for you to grapple with around this tension between perfection and imperfection in our lives and the life of the world. The words will take us into a few minutes of shared silence which will end with the sound of a bell. And then we’ll hear some more music from Abby and George. So let’s each do what we need to do to get comfortable – adjust your position if you need to – perhaps put your feet flat on the floor to ground and steady yourself – maybe close your eyes. As we always say, the words are just an offering, feel free to use this time to meditate in your own way.
God created imperfect human beings
who struggle to become better and gradually
work their way toward becoming more and more perfect.
You and I, who are imperfect, struggling in an imperfect world,
working toward achieving more perfection, are vehicles
for the expression of the dynamic aspect of divine perfection.
We are those broken vessels living in a world of chaos,
but we have a memory of a perfect light,
which we yearn for and strive toward.
We are born in this world restless to get somewhere.
‘Nobody’s perfect’ – and that is precisely what’s so perfect about everybody.
This is true only when you use your imperfections as starting points for growth.
Then you are part of the divine process – dynamic perfection – becoming perfect.
God’s perfection is expressed through imperfect you and me,
struggling to improve ourselves and this world together,
striving and working hard toward becoming perfect.
Period of Silence and Stillness (~3 minutes) – end with a bell DING
Interlude: Meditation by Frank Bridge (performed by Abby Lorimier and George Ireland)
Reading: ‘Good Enough’ by Lindasusan Ulrich (ask Hannah to read)
This reading, by Unitarian Universalist minister Lindasusan Ulrich, is prefaced with words by Rebecca Solnit, from her book ‘Hope in the Dark’. Rebecca Solnit writes: “Perfection is a stick with which to beat the possible.” (and Lindasusan Ulrich continues:)
I call myself a recovering perfectionist. People usually laugh when I say that, not realizing how serious I am. Perfectionism has robbed me of joy and kept me from being present in my life. I remember a chamber ensemble concert in high school, for example, when we played a challenging piece of Bach beautifully — yet afterwards I was in tears, distraught, because we hadn’t reached the soul-soaring heights of a previous concert.
When I look back on that moment now, my heart aches for my teenage self. I’ve worked hard over the years to let good enough be good enough. Sometimes, the universe forces the issue.
Recently, after enduring a couple of intense weeks, my life felt on the edge of coming apart. I knew that after writing and delivering one more sermon, I’d have a chance to come up for air. Instead, my body decided that Thursday night would be a swell time to get a sore throat, stuffy nose, achy muscles, and a loopiness that wasn’t exactly conducive to nuanced thought.
How am I going to do this?, I thought in a phlegm-stuffed panic. Friday is when I write, but I can’t even keep my head upright. That’s when my partner reminded me of Rebecca Solnit’s Hope in the Dark (and that line: “Perfection is a stick with which to beat the possible.”) — and took our kindergartner out for a full Saturday of activities so I could keep writing. Meanwhile, colleagues reminded me to take my human limitations seriously. Maybe I could give myself a break this time? And so I put one word after the other, trying to weave the threads into something relatively cogent. Good enough would have to be good enough.
Every time I preach, my prayer is: May I offer something they need. So afterwards, when people in the receiving line said, “That was just what I needed to hear today,” I knew my prayer had been answered. I knew I had been faithful in bringing the best I could — and it was, indeed, enough.
And, in this spirit, Lindasusan Ulrich offers a few closing words of prayer:
Spirit of Compassion, remind us that our task as humans is not perfection,
but faithfulness. Help us to do all that we’re able and to remember that
we’re surrounded by loved ones who can share the load. Amen and blessed be.
Reflection: ‘On Perfection’ by Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall
On the front of this morning’s order of service there’s a picture of one of the greatest Olympic moments of my lifetime – that’s how I remember it, anyway, though I suppose it came along at a formative age for me – I was only eight years old when Torvill and Dean went to the Sarajevo Winter Olympics and performed their famous ice dancing routine to Ravel’s Bolero. Maybe if you didn’t grow up in Britain in the 80s this won’t mean as much to you – though Torvill and Dean are still somewhat revered in this country – I believe they’re now judges on ITV’s ‘Dancing on Ice’.
Back in 1984 their Olympic performance was watched live by 24 million people here in the UK. They brought home the gold medal, and became the highest scoring figure skaters of all time, gaining perfect marks across the board for artistic impression: 6.0 from every judge. In those days such magic moments weren’t endlessly rehashed as they are now – everything wasn’t clipped up for social media – this was well before YouTube – and in our house we didn’t even have a video recorder until a few years later in 1987 – and I think this added something to the mythology of it all. There was just this collective memory of a perfect moment from these artist-athletes at the top of their game (of course it is on YouTube now – I watched it last night – and I got the shivers all over again.)
Why am I bringing up Torvill and Dean this morning, you might wonder? Well, back in the day, my dad had an opinion about their performance; more precisely about the record scores they attained. At the time I thought he was just saying this to get on my nerves, but in retrospect I think it was a sincerely held opinion: my dad firmly believed that nobody should ever be awarded 6.0 for anything. In his view, any judge awarding full marks, six out of six, was effectively saying that the dance was perfect, the last word, and nothing could ever be better. And this couldn’t be true. They’d left themselves nowhere to go. As marvellous as the routine was, I think this is what he was saying, you’ve got to allow for the possibility that something even better might be achievable in the future. It really annoyed me at the time but, 40-odd years later, I am ready to grudgingly concede he had a point. Perfection, in this view, is by definition something ultimately unattainable. But still, we humans may find ourselves compelled to reach towards it, to strive for something which is most likely beyond us.
We’ve heard two apparently contradictory readings this morning. In the first, Katherine Morgan Schafler spoke up in defence of perfectionists, misunderstood creatures that they (we?) are. Perfectionism has got a pretty bad name and it’s typically treated as a personality problem that needs to be fixed – I don’t know how many of us gathered here today would describe ourselves as perfectionists by temperament (tentatively raise your own hand) – but for some of us, at least some of the time, this perfectionist tendency is a genuine source of stress and anxiety which has a negative impact on our wellbeing – and I don’t want to be dismissive about that. Yet Schafler argues that perfectionism is ‘an excellent servant and a terrible master’ – she does acknowledge its problematic side – but she also reminds us that its power can be harnessed for the good.
In our second reading, Lindasusan Ullrich quoted Rebecca Solnit, who said ‘perfection is a stick with which to beat the possible’ (which in turn reminds me of ‘the perfect is the enemy of the good’). Both of these sayings correctly highlight the way in which perfectionism can lead to paralysis. Sometimes the ideal of perfection we’ve got in our head inhibits us – we can’t bring ourselves to write on the blank page, or make the first brushstroke, or take our first dance lesson – as reality can’t possibly live up to this wonderful-yet-imaginary version that can only ever exist in our mind. We might decide to give up, or not even try, knowing we are likely to be disappointed by our own efforts. Or perhaps in fear that we will be judged by other people’s perfectionistic standards. Yet as Ullrich says: ‘good enough’ is often good enough. And – in reality – we are more likely to get better at what we do, closer to the dream of perfection, by just doing the thing. Practicing the art.
There’s a little teaching story which speaks to this idea and that’s really stuck with me. A bit of digging suggests that the story originates in a book called ‘Art and Fear: Observations on the Perils and Rewards of Artmaking’ by David Bayles and Ted Orland. It goes like this:
A pottery teacher split her class into two halves. To the first half she said, “You will spend the term studying pottery, planning, designing, and creating your perfect pot. At the end of term, there will be a competition to see whose pot is the best”.
To the other half she said, “You will spend your term making lots and lots (and lots) of pots. Your grade will be based purely on the number of completed pots you finish. At the end of the term, you’ll also have the opportunity to enter your best pot into a competition.”
The first half of the class threw themselves into their research, planning, and design. Then they set about laboriously creating their one, perfect pot, to enter into the competition. The second half of the class immediately grabbed fistfuls of clay and started churning out pots at a tremendous rate. They made big ones, small ones, simple ones, and intricate ones. Their muscles ached for weeks as they gained the strength needed to throw so many pots.
At the end of term, as promised, both halves were invited to enter their most perfect pot into the competition, and judges voted on which was best. Once the votes were counted, all of the best pots came from the students that were tasked with quantity. The practice they gained made them significantly better potters than the planners on a quest for a single, perfect pot.
What are we to make of this story? For me it ties in with the quote we heard earlier from Georges Roditi: ‘Behind the word perfection, we should see the verb to perfect, endowing it with the same active meaning: an effort, an endeavour, not something finally accomplished.’ Perfection is a process, a striving, a direction of travel, rather than a destination we arrive at. Perhaps if we approach perfection in this way – as a practice we need to persistently stick at over the long haul in order to make progress – perhaps then we can use it to encourage greater aspiration, and spur us on to better things, rather than using it as a stick to beat ourselves with.
In the piece we heard from Schafler’s book she made reference to several so-called ‘geniuses’ – Steve Jobs, Gordon Ramsay, James Cameron – who are often lauded for their perfectionism. And you might be able to think of many other high-profile figures, current or historic, whose eminence in their field is attributed to a single-minded pursuit of excellence. There are so many good things in this world that only exist because someone strived for mastery and perfection – pushed themselves – and I suspect we can all call to mind stories of figures who committed themselves to their cause to such an extreme degree that it caused harm to themselves and others. This is an uncomfortable reality. We are surely glad that their creations – a sublime symphony or a beautiful painting – exist as a result of their efforts. Similarly, we might be thrilled and elated by the physical prowess that results in a gold medal or a world cup win for our team; grateful for scientists who have changed the world for the better with their discoveries and inventions; or activists who have brought about social revolutions. But sometimes, we know, their driven-ness can leave a trail of destruction in its wake.
Historically, we seem to have collectively – tacitly – conceded that this sort of behaviour is ‘worth it’ when it yields results that we can all admire or benefit from, though recently it seems that public opinion is starting to shift on this somewhat. Many of you will probably be aware of the controversy that surrounded Strictly Come Dancing last year, concerning the training methods that some of the professional ballroom dancers apparently used with their celebrity partners, and the differing views that people had on what was OK and what was not-OK to do in pursuit of perfect performance. And in fact – this might not be so well-remembered – but Torvill and Dean themselves were involved in a similar controversy back in the 90s when footage of their training sessions was made public. It’s still a live question, I think – if sacrifice, suffering, and struggle is necessarily part of this pursuit of perfection – and I do wonder if it might be – where do we draw the line and say: ‘enough – it’s not worth it’?
Katherine Morgan Schafler helpfully summarises the conundrum that we humans find ourselves in. She writes: ‘Perfectionism draws on a tension – wanting what you can’t have – you want the ideal to be the reality… The tension of perfectionism emerges from the constant clashing between the two most fundamental aspects of your identity – you’re a full-of-flaws human with significant limitations – and you’re a perfect being with unlimited potential. Reconciling the backseat fighting between your limits and your potential is the underlying challenge of perfectionism.’ Words from Schafler.
We speak so often in this church of working towards a better world, building beloved community, and it strikes me that this is a vision of perfection that we’re holding up as something to aspire to. We’re not there yet – and even if we know we’re unlikely to see that vision realised in our lifetime the idealised vision still has values as something to aim for – it inspires us to inch closer to that goal. Earlier we sang about ‘The Church Where Love Lives’ – do we live up to that vision? Not quite yet. As individuals, and as a community, we’re imperfect. Of course we are. But we lift our gaze higher.
To close I just want to echo some of those words from our meditation – words from David Aaron – as a reminder of the sacred context for all our strivings. Let us take this message to heart if we can:
You and I, who are imperfect, struggling in an imperfect world,
working toward achieving more perfection, are vehicles
for the expression of the dynamic aspect of divine perfection.
We are those broken vessels living in a world of chaos,
but we have a memory of a perfect light,
which we yearn for and strive toward.
God’s perfection is expressed through imperfect you and me,
struggling to improve ourselves and this world together,
striving and working hard toward becoming perfect.
And may it be so for the greater good of all. Amen.
Hymn 208 (green): ‘Forward Through the Ages’
Let’s sing again. Our final hymn is number 208 in your green hymn books: ‘Forward Through the Ages’ – rather a stirring one to finish on – an expression of that striving for something better.
Forward through the ages in unbroken line,
Move the faithful spirits at the call divine:
Gifts in differing measure, hearts of one accord,
Manifold the service, one the sure reward.
Forward through the ages in unbroken line,
Move the faithful spirits at the call divine.
Wider grows the kingdom, reign of love and light;
For it we must labour, till our faith is sight.
Prophets have proclaimed it, martyrs testified,
Poets sung its glory, heroes for it died.
Forward through the ages in unbroken line,
Move the faithful spirits at the call divine.
Not alone we conquer, not alone we fall;
In each loss or triumph lose or triumph all.
Bound by God's far purpose in one living whole,
Move we on together to the shining goal
Forward through the ages in unbroken line,
Move the faithful spirits at the call divine.
Announcements:
Thanks to Ramona for tech-hosting and Jeannene for co-hosting. Thanks to Julia and Hannah for reading. Thanks to Abby and George for lovely music today and Benjie for supporting our singing. Thanks to Hannah for greeting and Julia for doing the coffee. For those of you who are here in-person – please do stay for a cuppa and cake – we’re back on the apple and sultana cake this week.
At 12.30 Hannah will be offering her yoga class here in the church, free of charge, all are welcome. She does a great job of making it accessible regardless of your level of experience.
Tonight and Friday at 7pm we’ve got our ‘Heart and Soul’ online contemplative spiritual gathering – this week we’re considering ‘Rejection’ – or you could come along in-person on Wednesday night.
Next Sunday, 19th January, we’re planning an afternoon of art and craft play – let me know if you’re planning to come to that – that will help us plan what we’re offering and how. Basically we’re just going to get the art materials out of the cupboard and let you loose on them.
You’ve still got plenty of time to read the book for this month’s Better World Book Club, it’s ‘How We Break’ by Vincent Deary, all our loan copies have gone but if you really want to come and are struggling to access the book have a word with me and I’ll see what we can do.
And I wanted to mention that we’re currently assembling materials for the next newsletter so if you are planning to send anything in to that you’ve only got about 10 days (deadline 24th Jan).
Next Sunday we’ll be back here at 11am for a service titled ‘Think Again’.
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. Or why not take home a copy of our new fancy 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.
Time for our closing words and closing music now.
Benediction: based on words by Kimberly Quinn Johnson
We are the ones we have been waiting for.
We are not perfect,
but we are perfectly fitted for this day.
We are not without fault,
but we can be honest in facing our past as we look to the future.
May we be bold and courageous to chart that new future
May we have faith in a future that is not yet known.
May we play our part in creating a better world.
May we practice the process of perfection.
We are the ones we have been waiting for.
May it be so, for the greater good of all. Amen.
Closing Music: Country Dance by Frank Bridge (performed by Abby Lorimier and George Ireland)
Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall
12th January 2025