Return Again

Sunday Service, 16 March 2025

Led by Rev. Sarah Tinker

Musical Prelude: performed by George Ireland

Opening Words: ‘A Spring Equinox Blessing’ based on words by Starhawk

‘As light and dark are equal for a brief while in the cosmic dance, may we pause today to breathe deeply of the air of inspiration, may we feel the warmth of the fiery sun of passion on our skin, drink deeply from the waters of the well of belonging, and touch the sacred grounding earth beneath our feet. May we find the balance we need, today and every day.’

And those opening words from Starhawk, a prominent voice in modern earth-based spirituality and ecofeminism, welcome us to our Sunday morning gathering here at Essex Church, where Kensington Unitarians have their spiritual home. Starhawk’s writings have illuminated my spiritual path these many decades. In a few words she captures the message of the season – of spring and renewal, and rebirth, of finding our place of belonging as the wheel of the year circles around once more and spring buds and flowers emerge. Welcome everyone to our celebration of the spring equinox, that time when day and night are of equal length – which happens this year on the 23rd March.

If we’ve not met before I’m Sarah Tinker and it’s a pleasure to be here again with you. Welcome to those of you here in the church and to those of you joining us online. My voice has been somewhat croaky this week so I hope you can hear me well enough, wherever you are. Luckily we have other people involved in today’s service.

And you don’t just have us to listen to. We often speak of listening to the voice within, that idea that we carry an inner wisdom within us. Let’s take a few moments to connect with that sense of an inner voice, let’s take a quiet breath and turn our attention inwards, connecting with that in us which chose to here today, that made space for the spiritual dimension in our lives, our own inner light that connects with the light of others and the light of life and love permeating our world.

Chalice Lighting: ‘The Light Within Us’ by Brian C. Lee

We light our chalice as a symbol of the Light within us

and the life that flows through the world around us.

It is our beacon as we search for truth.

It is the warmth in our hearts for love.

And it is the energy that propels us to action.

May we be kindled by our time together.

Hymn 167 (purple): ‘There is a Place I Call My Own’

Let’s sing together. Our first hymn is 167 in your purple books: ‘There is a place I call my own’. We do sing it from time to time but I’ll ask George to play it through to refresh our memory. For those joining via zoom the words will be up on screen (as they will for all our hymns today). Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer and feel free to sing out loud or simply listen.

There is a place I call my own,

where I can stand by the sea,

and look beyond the things I've known

and dream that I might be free.

Like the bird above the trees,

gliding gently on the breeze,

I wish that all my life I’d be

without a care and flying free.

But life is not a distant sky

without a cloud, without rain,

and I can never hope that I

can travel on without pain.

Time goes swiftly on its way;

all too soon we’ve lost today,

I cannot wait for skies of blue

or dream so long that life is through.

So life is a song that I must sing,

a gift of love I must share;

and when I see the joy it brings

my spirits soar through the air.

Like the bird up in the sky,

life has taught me how to fly.

For now I know what I can be

and now my heart is flying free.

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:

Let’s take those joys and concerns into an extended time of prayer. You might first 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.

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)

Let us now sit quietly and wait for the voice within us.

Let us simply listen, and be still for a while. (pause)

We rest, in our northern lands, at the beginning of springtime, as the seasonal changes make themselves known to us. We notice changes all around us, the lengthening days, the strengthening power of the sun, the growth of plants, the song of birds. All life is change and we change with the seasons.

Yet may our hearts be softened and our busy minds be stilled, may our bodies be at peace within themselves as we turn our thoughts and prayers to our world community. Throughout history, the story of our planet has been a story of change, a great unrolling narrative with its multitudinous characters and settings. To be alive is to move and to move is to change.

May our thoughts be with the places in our world where changes are enforced and bitter, where life is tough and there can be little illusion of control for the people who live there; let us think too of the many places where change is held back, repressed, where the search for freedom is seen as rebellion, where free speech is denied, the places where people do not dare sometimes even to be themselves. May all such places be touched by love and understanding, may fear diminish and peace expand.

We think too of places where seasonal changes are more dramatic and where the weather can bring fear and challenge, rather than delight. (pause) May we acknowledge and share these challenges.

In our own hearts and minds may we discover well-springs of peace and love, so we are better able to accept the changes in our own lives, challenging and painful though some of them are. In the midst of our transitions may we be granted all the strength that we need and may that strength be something we pass on to others who we meet along the way, for it is perhaps in our common humanity and in the sharing of our paths in life that we find the meaning and purpose that sustain us and guide us, now and always. Amen.

Reading: 'Thanks Be For These’ by Richard S Gilbert (read by Juliet)

I don’t know about you but spring is something I notice. I like plants. I like flowers. And as they start to emerge from the dull colours of winter, the snowdrops, the crocuses, the daffodils. I’m grateful they exist. Their existence really does lift my spirits.

This reading comes from a Unitarian Universalist minister called Richard Gilbert and he has a way of writing about every day life that lifts it from the mundane to the spiritual. In this piece which is called ‘Thanks Be for These’ he simply lists some of the many things we might feel grateful for in life – including ‘the resurrection of spring’ and ‘the faithful turning of the seasons’. Feeling gratitude is supposed to be a useful skill we can have in our spiritual toolbox – gratitude can lift us when times are hard. So let’s hear what Richard S Gilbert has on his ‘giving thanks list’ and I wonder what you might include on yours.

For the sound of bow on string,

Of breath over reed,

Of touch on keyboard;

For slants of sunlight through windows,

For shimmering shadows on snow,

For the whisper of wind on my face;

For the smooth skin of an apple,

For the caress of a collar on my neck;

For the prickling of my skin when I am deeply moved,

For the pounding of my heart when I run,

For the peace of soul at day’s end;

For familiar voices in family rites,

For the faces of friends in laughter and tears,

For the tender human arms that hold me;

For the flashes of memories that linger,

For the mysterious moments that beckon,

For the particularity of this instant;

For the silence of moon-lit nights,

For the sound of rain on my roof,

Of wind in dry leaves,

Of waves caressing the shore;

For the softness of summer breezes,

For the crispness of autumn air,

For dark shadows on white snow,

For the resurrection of spring,

For the faithful turning of the seasons;

For angular, leafless trees,

For gentle hills rolling in the distance,

For meandering streams seeking an unseen sea;

For cornstalks at stiff attention,

And brittle plants bristling past their prime,

For unharvested gardens returning plants to enrich the soil;

For the sight of familiar faces,

The sound of our spoken names,

The welcoming embrace of outstretched arms;

For the ritual of friendship,

Reminding us we matter:

Thanks be for these.

Hymn 154 (purple): ‘The Bright Wind is Blowing’

I’m suggesting we stay seated for this next hymn, it’s got a lovely tune and a bit of a mystical message. Let’s hear it through and then give it a go, number 154 in the purple book, ‘the bright wind is blowing, the bright wind of heaven, and where it is going to no-one can say’.

The bright wind is blowing, the bright wind of heaven,

and where it is going to, no one can say;

but where it is passing our hearts are awaking

to stretch from the darkness and reach for the day.

The bright wind is blowing, the bright wind of heaven,

and many old thoughts will be winnowed away;

the husk that is blown is the chaff of our hating,

the seed that is left is the hope for our day.

The bright wind is blowing, the bright wind of heaven,

the love that it kindles will never betray;

the fire that it fans is the warmth of our caring,

so lean on the wind — it will show us the way.

Reading: ‘Let us Gather to Our Selves This Day’ by Tess Ward (words adapted) (read by Chloe)

Let us gather to our selves this day,

the care of nesting bird with grass in beak,

the playfulness of boxing hare.

the encased promise of bud on tree,

the gladness of blossom as it bursts free,

the hope of brightening sun after grey,

the mystery of moon that sanctifies by night,

the balance of equinox, within and without,

the joy of dawn chorus that wakens with light,

the freshness of scent on shrub and bough,

the fecundity of frogspawn, in stream and pond,

the confidence of daffodils jubilant abound,

the wind of the Spirit blowing over the hills,

the trust in love’s providence that creates and renews,

we gather to our selves this day.

Chant: ‘Return Again’

Return again, return again, return to the land of your soul

Return again, return again, return to the land of your soul

Return to what you are, return to who you are,

Return to where you are, born and reborn again

Return again, return again, return to the land of your soul

Meditation: ‘… to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time’ from The Four Quartets’ by TS Eliot)

(words from Sarah still to come)

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

Interlude: Sarabande from French Suite in G Major by JS Bach (performed by George Ireland)

Reading: 'Spring is Mud and Miracle’ by Parker J Palmer (extracts)

I’ll wax romantic about the splendours of spring in a moment, but first there’s a hard truth to be told. Before spring becomes beautiful, it’s ugly, nothing but mud and muck. I’ve walked through early spring fields that will suck the boots off your feet, a world so wet and woeful you yearn for the return of snow and ice.

Of course, there’s a miracle inside that muddy mess: those fields are a seedbed for rebirth. I love the fact that the word humus, the decayed organic matter that feeds the roots of plants, comes from the same word-root that gives rise to humility. It’s an etymology in which I find forgiveness, blessing, and grace. It reminds me that the humiliating events of life — events that leave “mud on my face” or “make my name mud” — can create the fertile soil that nourishes new growth.

Spring begins tentatively, but it advances with a tenacity that never fails to touch me. The smallest and most tender shoots insist on having their way, pressing up through ground that looked, only a few weeks earlier, as if it would never grow anything again. The crocuses and snowdrops don’t bloom for long. But their mere appearance, however brief, is always a harbinger of hope — and from those small beginnings, hope grows at a geometric rate. The days get longer, the winds get warmer, and the world grows green again.

As my personal winters turn slowly toward spring, I find it hard enough to keep slogging through “the mud within.” I find it even harder to credit the small harbingers of new life to come, hard to be hopeful until the outcome is secure. Spring teaches me to look more closely within myself and trust the green tendrils of possibility: the intuitive hunch that may morph into a larger insight, the glance or touch that may start to thaw a frozen relationship, the stranger’s act of kindness that makes the world seem like home again.

Spring is a bountiful time, beyond all necessity and reason — animated, it would appear, by nothing other than the sheer joy of it. The gift of life, which winter threatened to withdraw, is granted once again, with compound interest. Rather than hoarding life, nature gives it all away. There’s a paradox here, one known in all the world’s wisdom traditions: when you receive a gift, the only way to keep it alive is to pass it along.

From autumn’s profligate seeding to the great spring give-away, nature teaches a steady lesson. If we want to save our lives, we must spend them with abandon.

So let’s listen to spring’s music, catch the beat, get out on the dance floor, and bust some moves. It’s spring, people, and the dance will soon be in full swing!

Reflection on ‘Whenever you see a tree’ by Padma Ventrakamen

Thank you Brian for that reading. I love the imagery of spring as a party, where everybody’s going to dress and dance exuberantly. And I notice how both Parker Palmer and Richard Gilbert, whose ‘thanks be for these’ Juliet read for us earlier on – they are both exploring the idea of life as a gift. It’s an important spiritual teaching because it counter-balances the alternate reality, of life as struggle and hardship. And of course, life as gift and life as struggle are both true. The relative weights vary in our different lives and at different times of life. Most of us know how fortunate we are to have been born in this country rather than many others, where trying to survive another day is all someone can strive for. And yet we know how hard life can be here in Britain, we know the struggles faced by people even in our own community. So viewing life as a gift is easy enough when the sunshine of life is beaming upon us. It’s harder when harsh winds blow and we cannot find our way ahead.

In the times when life is too hard to consider as a gift, there is another spiritual teaching for us, and that is simply to notice. We can notice what is around us and we can notice what is happening within us. That simple act of noticing can lift us to another level. And springtime is the ideal season to practice our noticing because every day something else is emerging. The party of blossom and colour and light has well and truly begun. And once we notice something, our curiosity may be activated. It happened to me only the other day on the A12, a road so generally unpleasant – the only good thing one can say about it is that it’s not as ugly as the A13, it’s close neighbour. But there on the A12, on a particularly grey and grim stretch I suddenly noticed a clump of bright yellow daffodils. And that led to several minutes of pondering where they had come from, were they the remnants of an old garden or were they planted in memory of someone. Can birds plant bulbs I wondered? Who knows. But that little glimpse of loveliness amidst the grime lifted my spirits and activated my mind.

And so let’s hear this poem by Padma Venkatramen, which you have a copy of if you’re here in church and it will also appear on your screens at home, a poem shaped like a tree, a poem written to activate our sense of wonder, a reminder of the magic that is life.

‘Whenever you see a tree’ by Padma Venkatraman

Think

how many long years

this tree waited as a seed

for an animal or bird or wind or rain

to maybe carry it to maybe the right spot

where again it waited months for seasons to change

until time and temperature were fine enough to coax it

to swell and burst its hard shell so it could send slender roots

to clutch at grains of soil and let tender shoots reach toward the sun

Think how many decades or centuries it thickened and climbed and grew

taller and deeper never knowing if it would find enough water or light

or when conditions would be right so it could keep on spreading leaves

adding blossoms and dancing

Next time

you see

a tree

think

how

much

hope

it holds

(with gratitude to the author and to poetryfoundation.org)

Hymn 165 (purple): ‘The Spirit Lives to Set Us Free’

And so our closing hymn now, an old favourite that may put a spring in our step. It’s 165 in the purple book – the spirit lives to set us free, walk in the light of love.

The Spirit lives to set us free,

walk, walk in the light.

It binds us all in unity,

walk, walk in the light.

Walk in the light,

Walk in the light,

Walk in the light,

Walk in the light of love.

The light that shines is in us all,

walk, walk in the light.

We each must follow our own call,

walk, walk in the light.

Walk in the light,

Walk in the light,

Walk in the light,

Walk in the light of love.

Peace begins inside your heart,

walk, walk in the light.

We've got to live it from the start,

walk, walk in the light.

Walk in the light,

Walk in the light,

Walk in the light,

Walk in the light of love.

Seek the truth in what you see,

walk, walk in the light.

Then hold it firmly as can be,

walk, walk in the light.

Walk in the light,

Walk in the light,

Walk in the light,

Walk in the light of love.

The Spirit lives in you and me,

walk, walk in the light.

Its light will shine for all to see,

walk, walk in the light

Walk in the light,

Walk in the light,

Walk in the light,

Walk in the light of love.

Announcements:

Thank you to everyone who has made this service possible, especially our pianist George Ireland and the singing support of Margaret and Benjie and everyone who has read for us today – Juliet, Chloe and Brian. And the technical support from Lochlann online and Ramona here in church is much appreciated.

Do stay online for a chat if you would like after the service and here we’ll be having refreshments, all are welcome to stay.

Benediction: ‘In our times of equilibrium and imbalance’

May we accept that this is life, in our times both of equilibrium and imbalance.

We wobble and we stand sturdy. We bend in the face of the winds and we stand strong against adversity. We crumble for it all is too much for us, and we get back on our feet and face what must be faced. And we do all this on our own, yet we can do so much more together. So let us support one another when the going is tough. Let us stand by one another and applaud our successes. Let us breathe in the fresh air together and celebrate life’s journeys together, ever aware of the warmth that shines upon us when we walk in the light of love, amen, go well and blessed be.

Closing Music: Bouree and Gigue from French Suite in E Major by JS Bach (performed by George Ireland)

Rev. Sarah Tinker

16th March 2025