Roots and Wings

Sunday Service, 28 December 2025

Led by Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall

Musical Prelude: IV. Waltz (performed by Sydney Mariano, Kiana Umali Garvey, and Andrew Robinson)  

Opening Words: ‘To Pause on the Journey’ by Linda Hart

Every day is a new start,

every year a beginning,

or so we’d like to believe.

And, we don’t know, can’t anticipate

where we will go,

what will happen,

what delights await,

what heartbreaks will tear us open,

the paths, unexpected,

that open before us.

Even knowing that, we lean

our lives in particular ways,

focus on particular moments,

incline our attention to what

is in our hearts and lives and hands to offer.

We know for sure that ours is in the going,

finding what is on the path, and off,

in giving and creating what we can.

We come here amidst the

discoveries and delights,

the worries and woes

to find a moment of connection,

to pause on the journey,

in gratitude and sorrow.

It is good to be together. (pause)

Words of Welcome and Introduction: 

These words from my chum Linda Hart 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 listening to the podcast stream.  For anyone who doesn’t know me, I’m Jane Blackall, and I’m minister with Kensington Unitarians.

Our service today is titled ‘Roots and Wings’ – a phrase borrowed from a hymn that we’re going to sing later in the service – ‘Spirit of Life’ contains the phrase ‘roots hold me close, wings set me free’. Roots represent our origins, our history, our tradition, and also community ties to places and people – maybe we feel warm and positive about our roots, maybe we feel a sense of secure belonging, a sense of being held by them and grounded in them – or maybe we feel rootless, disconnected, estranged, or non-committal, perhaps we’re inclined to rebel against our roots and stand apart. Wings represent our drive for freedom, self-expression, adventure, making our own way in the world, writing our own story, and breaking away from what’s gone before – perhaps some of us are keen to spread our wings – and others of us are more cautious and want to stick with what we know. We might think of roots and wings as being in tension with each other – roots being past-orientated and wings being future-orientated – or roots being all about safety and wings being all about risk. We’ll consider this tension from various angles this morning (spoiler alert – I think we need both).

Chalice Lighting: ‘On the Brink of a New Year’ by Lois Van Leer (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) 

We light this chalice on the brink of a new year:

laying down, and letting go of, what has had its time;

keeping safe, and holding onto, all that which serves us well;

open and hopeful for what may come, as we step out into the future.

May we move forward into the new year with intention.

Renewed, restored, and ready to live Life fully, anew.

Hymn 125 (purple): ‘One More Step Along the World I Go’

Our first hymn is number 125 in your purple books: ‘One More Step Along the World I Go’. I’ve picked some old favourites today (alongside one completely new one for us to learn). For those joining on zoom the words will be up on screen. Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer. Hymn 125.

One more step along the world I go,

one more step along the world I go;

from the old things to the new,

keep me travelling along with you;

and it's from the old I travel to the new,

keep me travelling along with you.

Round the corners of the world I turn,

more and more about the world I learn;

all the new things that I see

you'll be looking at along with me;

and it's from the old I travel to the new,

keep me travelling along with you.

As I travel through the bad and good,

keep me travelling the way I should;

where I see no way to go

you'll be telling me the way, I know;

and it's from the old I travel to the new,

keep me travelling along with you.

Give me courage when the world is rough,

keep me loving though the world is tough;

leap and sing in all I do,

keep me travelling along with you;

and it's from the old I travel to the new,

keep me travelling along with you.

You are older than the world can be,

you are younger than the life in me;

ever old and ever new,

keep me travelling along with you;

and it's from the old I travel to the new,

keep me travelling along with you.

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 Addae Ama Kraba  

Let’s take those joys and concerns into an extended time of prayer. This prayer is based on some words by Addae Ama Kraba. 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)

Let this year be a chance for new beginnings.

Let us pray for stamina.

To finish things left uncompleted.

To call on people I neglected last year.

Let us pray for courage.

To rally in the cause for peace and justice.

To speak out in support when others remain silent.

Let us pray for empathy.

To better understand the pain and suffering of others.

To continue engaging heart to heart.

Let us pray for patience.

When seeking resolutions to problems.

When seeking a new beginning after an ending.

Let us pray for creativity.

In seeking new meaning in service.

Engaging others in service to the beloved community.

Let us pray for peace.

Between friends and families.

Between communities and countries.

All these things we pray for, in this time of turning

and transformation, as we approach a new year. (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 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: ‘Transforming the New Year’ by Tim Atkins (adapted) (read by Roy)

This short reflection by Unitarian Universalist Tim Atkins was written five years ago, at the end of 2020, and while some of his comments are very much of-that-moment, his insight is valid for every year. He writes:

As a religious humanist, I’ve never quite found a winter holiday that speaks to me on a deep, spiritual level—that is, until I started transforming New Year’s into my own, personal holiday and created a bunch of traditions around it. For example, every year I give my apartment (and now, my house) a deep cleaning, because I don’t want to bring last year’s rubbish and clutter (either literal or metaphorical) into the new year. Another tradition that I started was choosing a single word to be my theme for the upcoming year. My word for 2020 was authenticity.

Part of my New Year’s tradition is also reflecting on the past year. And really, how much do any of us want to look back and reflect on the year that was 2020? It was a rough year for just about all of us. But when reflecting on the past year, I do it through the lens of my word of the year: authenticity. Was I being authentically me? There were times during 2020, when faced with a tough decision, that I relied on asking myself, “Which choice is more authentically me?” Years down the road, when I reflect back on 2020, sure I’ll remember the masks, but I’ll also remember it through the lens of my word for that year.

But enough of the year that was 2020. I know I’m ready to move on and I bet you are too. So what’s my word for next year? Roots. I made a major move this year, to a whole new city, and assuming all goes well, just days into the new year I will officially complete on buying a house, and I’ll become a first-time homeowner.

It’s time for me to set down roots in my new neighbourhood and my new town. But I can take roots further: I want to explore my own family’s roots more, in order to better fully understand my own cultural story. I want to explore the roots of my beliefs more, and examine the hidden sources that drive my actions. (Also, I want to garden, now I’ve finally got the space to do it!)

What’s your word going to be? What’s the one word you hope will define your upcoming year?

Tim Atkins concludes with a few words of prayer: Oh source of creative inspiration, guide me and my thoughts. Help me see all that I may be, to help me be authentically me, on this journey of self-exploration. May our upcoming year be better than the last. May our upcoming year be grounded in peace, rooted in hope, and guided by love.

Hymn (on sheet): ‘History and Mystery’

Let’s sing again – our second hymn is on your hymn sheet – ‘History and Mystery’. I wouldn’t normally pick a brand new hymn on a week when we didn’t have Benjie to support us but this one is so completely on topic with today’s message that we couldn’t not have it! It speaks of the importance of drawing on tradition and the wisdom of the past, while also remaining open to new and surprising insights and discoveries, and stepping out boldly into the future. I’m hoping a few of you have listened to it online ahead of time but we’ll hear it through once before we sing (and there are lots of verses so hopefully we’ll have got it by the end!). History and Mystery.

History and mystery, each one in its place

Granting us a future and a past,

Drawing on tradition and open to new grace,

Honouring the first ones and the last.

History and mystery make a greater whole,

Working to ensure that we’re complete.

Memory enriches us; wonder moves our souls,

Guiding heart and mind and hands and feet.

Though we are in need of both we are also told,

Leave the dead to put away their dead.

When there is a choice to make, where should we be bold?

Can we choose the mystery instead?

Where the letter limits us, Spirit gives us life

And the Spirit travels where she will.

God is yet creating us, sending truth and light.

If we can stay open to it still.

Though we love the truth we know, something new springs forth,

Something we can hardly yet perceive:

Pathways in the wilderness, tables set for all,

Endless love if we would just believe.

History and mystery: we have room to grow

Even as tradition helps us live.

Let us keep our hearts awake for we do not know

All the gifts that love has yet to give.

In-Person Reading: ‘Roots and Wings’ by Margaret Silf (excerpts, adapted) (read by Chloë)

There is a story growing inside you (and you are growing inside a story).

Stories have definite beginnings. They may begin ‘once upon a time’, but they do, definitely, begin. They have roots. They grow out of particular times and places, and they take the shape of our many and varied human cultures. Your story has a definite beginning. You probably have a birth certificate to prove it. You know when and where it begins, and you know the soil it grows out of. It’s an earthed story, grounded and rooted on your particular bit of planet Earth, and nourished (or hampered) by particular people, events, and encounters. It’s a plant that grows in a special place and no other. You can’t just uproot your story and plant it somewhere else where, perhaps, you wish it were growing, or where you maybe think it ought to be growing. It grows from its own roots, and in its own soil.

But where is it growing to? What is it becoming? That’s another matter. That’s open-ended. The outcome is still part of the great mystery. What do you want your story to become? What do you most desire the human story to become? And what is the dream of the great story that is guiding and nurturing your own dreams?

My eye was caught by a fridge magnet in a gift shop I often frequent in the little market town of Nantwich. Fridge magnets are not where we tend to look first in our search for life wisdom, but this one, I thought, had a lot going for it. It read: ‘Wise parents give their children just two gifts – roots and wings’ (attributed to Holding Carter)

Not many of us who have dealings with little children would want to quarrel with that, I thought. What more could I possibly wish to give my child than a sureness of belonging, a certain knowledge that, whatever happens, she is rooted in my love, and that this love is something she can always come home to. I want to give her sound and healthy roots that nourish her and hold her firm in the soil where she can grow.

But I need to give her wings as well. However painful it might be to watch her fly, when the time is right, her flight is the other half of the story. When I give her wings, I set her free. Free to live and discover, and shape her own unique story. Unless that happens, her story won’t grow into its fullness, and neither will the great story of us all.

I guess that, however we might envisage the source of our being, we might safely assume that this foundational well of life, whom many would call ‘God’, would likewise give us both roots and wings – roots to nourish and sustain – wings that set us free to fly into all our tomorrows.

I invite you to explore your own deep roots, within the context of the story of all creation, and to risk the flight on the wings of your deepest, highest, dreams. Embrace both your roots and your wings, revere both, and be afraid of neither. Enjoy the flight!

Words for Meditation: ‘Holding On and Letting Go’

Thanks Chloë. We’re moving into a time of meditation now. To take us into stillness I’m just going to offer a simple invitation: as we approach the end of the year, take a look at your life, as it is right now. And consider what it is that you want to hold on to, as we move into the new year – what is serving you well, what is giving you life – and what it is that is no longer serving you, what it might be time for you to let go of. Later today some of us will be staying behind for the New Year’s mini-retreat (and even more of us are joining the online version on New Year’s Day) which is a chance to look back and look forward in a more considered way. But this is a gentle opportunity to get started on that process of reflection.  We’ll hold 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 I always say, this just an offering, an invitation, feel free to use this time to meditate in your own way.

So as we move into the shared stillness, I invite you to look at your life, survey the scene

And notice what it is that you’re carrying from the past year, or maybe from further back,

which is serving you well, and giving you life – which roots you, grounds you, nourishes you.

What habits, traditions, ways of being, are really worth carrying onward into the year to come?

And I invite you also to gently consider what it is that is draining life from you, weighing you down, clipping your wings. What is it time for you to lay down, let go of, in order to rise up and truly fly?

Let us take these questions of holding on and letting go into a time of shared silence and stillness.

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

Interlude: III. Elegy (performed by Sydney Mariano, Kiana Umali Garvey, and Andrew Robinson) 

In-Person Reading: ‘Transformation: Roots and Wings’ by Rev. Josh Pawelek (excerpts, adapted) (read by Antony) 

In the midst of any transformation, any change, transition, disruption, upheaval – the entry of any new opportunity into our lives – we find ourselves caught between a strong inclination to stay where we are – to stay with the familiar, the known, the comfortable, the safe – and an equally strong inclination to embrace change and the growth that it inevitably brings.

What makes our relationship to change complex is that the longing for both safety and risk live inside us. When called to transform, we have impulses to avoid it (safety); and we have impulses to embrace it (risk). This is true for us individually. It is true for groups too. The tension between safety or risk can be paralyzing for individuals, and polarizing for groups.

I’ve been seeking a way beyond paralysis and polarization when we’re navigating change. And at least for this morning, I’m wondering how it feels to navigate change and transformation not as a choice between safety and risk, but as a partnership between roots and wings. Safety and risk tend to contradict each other. They have a built-in tension. Roots and wings tend to work together. And for Unitarian Universalists, roots and wings are familiar spiritual terms. “Roots hold me close, wings set me free.”

Roots. What grounds us? What is familiar and reliable? What holds us close?  What holds us in place? What holds us steady? What brings us nourishment from the deep wells beneath the surface of our lives? What is sacred? Memories of precious moments – being present as a child is born, or as a loved one dies – can ground us. They are roots. The sacredness of intimate relationships – with friends and family – can provide grounding in difficult times. These relationships are roots too. Spiritual practices, and the religious traditions that transmit them, and the values and tenets they instil in us, are also roots.

And what about Wings: what liberates us? What sets us free? What expands our world-view, our thinking, our feeling, our capacity for love, compassion, empathy, caring? What enables us to grow and mature, to create, to innovate, to take risks, to move forward in our lives? With wings engaged we sail into change, we welcome the new, we embrace a spring which is not quite here. Sometimes we fly and we’re successful beyond our wildest dreams. Sometimes we fly too close to the sun, our wings melt and burn, and we fall back to earth. Sometimes we choose wings and realize later, we weren’t sufficiently rooted. We forgot to bring with us that which is sacred to us. For transformation requires both roots and wings.

Roots and wings aren’t an either/or choice. They are partners. They are friends. They work together. The complement each other. To navigate transformation well, we need both. As Elizabeth Tarbox wrote: “Thank God, we have each other and this place of worship to come to, when we need to make decisions in our search for both security and renewal.”

In this place, this church, let us remember that we have access to both roots and wings.

Hymn 148 (purple): ‘Spirit of Life’

Our hymn is number 148 in your purple books: ‘Spirit of Life’. When I first came to this church 26 years ago this was almost the anthem of Unitarianism – we must have sung it every other week! – somehow it’s fallen out of favour and we haven’t sung it in ages. But it’s only short so I suggest we sing it through three times and treat it almost as a meditation (for that reason you might prefer to stay seated but as always stand or sit as you prefer). Let’s sing hymn 148, ‘Spirit of Life’.  

Spirit of Life, come unto me.

Sing in my heart all the stirrings of compassion.

Blow in the wind, rise in the sea;

move in the hand, giving life the shape of justice.

Roots hold me close; wings set me free;

Spirit of Life, come to me, come to me.

11.45 Mini-Reflection: ‘Roots and Wings’ by Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall

‘Roots hold me close, wings set me free’. So wrote Carolyn McDade, composer of ‘Spirit of Life’. What’s your relationship to roots and wings, I wonder? What do those metaphors suggest to you?

When we think about our roots, we might think of our family of origin, our culture or community, any traditions (including religious traditions) we were born into, and everything else we inherited as a result of that. Or we might think of being rooted in a network of relationships we’ve built up for ourselves over the course of our life so far – our chosen family, perhaps – the communities and cultures we’ve become embedded in, by choice or by chance, where we feel some lasting commitment, some sense of rootedness, belonging, or stability, an anchor in the storms of life.

Conversely, when we think about wings, we might think of the ways in which we’ve managed to strike out on our own – perhaps in defiance of our origins, and counter to what was expected of us – the ways in which we’ve transcended our inheritance, and gone our own way, in order to authentically express ourselves, fulfil our potential, and make our own mark in the world.

It strikes me that roots are somewhat bound up with the past, and wings are more future-oriented, and perhaps that’s why I was drawn to explore this topic at the turn of the year. Traditionally this is a moment when we look back and look forward – surveying where we’ve been and where we might be going next – and considering what we want to hold on to and what we are ready to let go of (as we did in the meditation earlier on). It’s a good time to take stock.

So where are we at with roots and wings? I want to acknowledge that both have a shadow side. And I also want to make the observation that lots of people pitch up in Unitarian community as adults precisely because they’ve broken away from their roots – rejected tradition, specifically their religious tradition of origin – but they still see the value of being part of something bigger. Nevertheless, a certain prickliness towards tradition, and squeamishness about religion, often lurks not far below the surface in Unitarian groups. A lot of us have trust issues in this regard!

And so perhaps we can be overly hung-up on the negative side of roots – it’s true, and it’s worth acknowledging, that tradition can weigh us down – being too beholden to the past, or to a community or cultural tribe, or a certain way of doing things, this can lead to stuckness, closed-mindedness, cliqueyness. We can become enculturated to old ways and shut off from the new.

At the same time I think there’s a tendency for Unitarians to think that we’re all about the wings! Much emphasis is put on the value of being free-thinking and independent. But we need to keep an eye on this too. If we lean too far in this direction it can easily slide into being individualistic, irresponsible, even parasitic (I know that’s a strong word). If we are so flighty that we never settle down, we can find ourselves skipping over the surface of life, never developing those deep bonds of association, connection, and mutuality, that can be so enriching. And never doing our bit to sustain those traditions, communities, and sources of support that we still nonetheless draw on. Interdependence is where it’s at, I say! We’ve already explored that in a few services this year.

So I suppose you won’t be surprised that we’re coming in to land in a ‘both/and’ kind-of place.  Of course, we need both roots and wings – and we need to get the balance right – to integrate the best of both. We can draw on the treasures of tradition, honour the wisdom of the ancestors, and have an active and ongoing relationship with our community, discerning what still has meaning for us here and now (rather than reactively rejecting it or accepting without question).  It shows appropriate humility to recognise that we have much to learn from others, especially those who have gone before us, and that we might do well to ‘stand on the shoulders of giants’. Yet at the same time we can remain open to change – to new grace – to evolution, revolution. And we can be that change – as we claim our own place in a living tradition – an ongoing line – as we spread our wings and make our own creative contribution to the unfolding story of humanity.

I want to close this very-mini-reflection with a short prayer, loosely adapted from the words of Nica Eaton-Guinn, and very much inspired by the hymn ‘Spirit of Life’.

Spirit of Life, God of All Love,

One of many names and no names,

Come unto us, for we know not what to do

about all the horrors and troubles of this hurting world.

We know not what to do for all those who are suffering this day.

Sing in our hearts all the stirrings of compassion;

Compassion for the oppressed and marginalised,

for all those who are scared, hurting, and lonely;

compassion for those who are sick and in pain.

Blow in the wind, rise in the seas,

as we listen to the stirrings of our earth,

and protect our beautiful planet that holds and nourishes us.

Move in our hands so we may give life the shape of justice,

through our attention, awareness, speech, and action,

that all may experience equity, freedom, and dignity,

Roots hold us close so we may feel a sense of connection

to our forebears and the living tradition we are a part of,

to this earth, and to one another, interconnected in all.

Wings set us free, so we may soar

with inspiration, creativity, and vision,

flourishing, growing, and fulfilling our potential.

Spirit of Life, God of All Love,

come to us, so we may be whole

and live lives of meaning, value, and purpose.

May it be so, for the greater good of all. Amen.

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

Time for one last hymn now and it’s number 167 in your purple books, ‘There is a Place I Call My Own’, also known as ‘Flying Free’. Another one we used to sing all the time back in the noughties!

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.

Announcements:

Thanks to Ramona for hosting and Jeannene for co-hosting. Thanks to Sydney, Kiana, and Andrew for lovely music today. Thanks to Roy, Chloë and Antony for reading. Thanks to Juliet for greeting and Marianne for making coffee. If you are in-person do stay for cake (I’ve made lemon traybake – with fancy icing – and apple and pear cake).

This afternoon we’ve got the New Year’s Mini-Retreat. For those of you who have signed up I am wondering if we can start that a bit early at 12.45pm? And we’ll try to be done by 3.45. Please be back in here by 12.45 if you can. If you want to join that at the last minute I have printed some extra worksheets so there’s space for a few more. Or you can join the online version on New Year’s Day if you drop me an email to get the link. It’s a chance to reflect on the past year and to look forward to the year ahead, alone and together.

It's the Better World Book Club tonight – if you’ve told me you’re coming you should already have received the link – if you haven’t told me you’re coming please send me an email this afternoon. Next month it’s ‘Don’t Forget We’re Here Forever’ by Lamorna Ash. We have some copies to lend.

On Friday at 7pm we’ve got our ‘Heart and Soul’ online contemplative spiritual gathering – this week it’s on ‘Treasures’ (the Sunday crew had that one before Christmas) – email me if you want to join.

And in January we’re starting a new online study group on ‘Finding Our Religion: Being Unitarian in the 21^st Century’. That’s a joint venture with Mill Hill Chapel in Leeds who have been incredibly keen to sign up – we’ve also got loads of sign-ups from around the country – so I’d love to see our own congregation well-represented. Each time we’ll watch a 40-minute talk from summer school and then we’ll take some time to consider some questions arising from the talk alone and in small groups. That’s on alternate Tuesday evenings from 6^th Jan. Sign up with me if you want to come along to that.

Next Sunday we’ll be back at 11 when I’ll introduce that theme of ‘Finding our Religion’ in the service.

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 Michelle Collins

Change is a constant … around us, within us, between us.

Sometimes we experience it as an unwelcome disruption,

sometimes as a longed-for chance for liberating transformation.

So as we leave this gathering, and bid farewell to another year,

may we each find the balance point we need as we

move through this ever-changing world:

the balance between the old and the new,

between the known and the unknown,

between our roots and our wings,

between the familiar and the perhaps bold and risky possibilities

that might just be out there, waiting for us, in the year to come. Amen.

Closing Music: II. Gavotte (all today’s music is from Five Pieces for 2 Violins and Piano - D. Shostakovich) (performed by Sydney Mariano, Kiana Umali Garvey, and Andrew Robinson) 

Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall

28th December 2025