Sunday Service, 4 February 2024
Led by Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall
Musical Prelude: Schumann “Der Dichter spricht” from Kinderszenen (played by George Ireland)
Opening Words: ‘You Are Beloved and You Are Welcome’ by Joan Javier-Duval (adapted)
You are beloved and you are welcome here:
Whoever you are, however you are,
Wherever you’re at on life’s journey.
Whether you are feeling brave or broken-hearted;
defiant or defeated; fearsome or fearful:
You are beloved and you are welcome here.
Whether tears have fallen from your eyes this past week
or gleeful laughter has spilled out of your mouth;
You are beloved and you are welcome here.
Whether you have untold stories buried deep inside
or stories that have been forced beyond the edges of comfort:
You are beloved and you are welcome here.
Whether you have made promises, broken promises,
or are renewing your promises day-by-day:
You are beloved and you are welcome here
Whatever is on your tender, precious, heart,
However it is with your soul in this moment:
You are beloved and you are welcome here.
In this space of welcome and acceptance, commitment and re-commitment, of sacred
covenant and connection – in all our glorious variety – let us join in worship together. (pause)
Words of Welcome and Introduction:
These opening words by Joan Javier-Duval welcome all who have gathered this morning, for our Sunday service. Welcome to those of you who have gathered in-person at Essex Church and also to all who are joining us via Zoom from far and wide. For anyone who doesn’t know me, my name is Jane Blackall, and I’m Minister with Kensington Unitarians. I’m glad you made it here today.
This morning’s service is titled ‘Telling Stories’ – chosen in honour of National Storytelling Week – we’ll be reflecting on the power of stories from a number of different angles – whether that’s traditional wisdom stories, that memorably encapsulate insights about life and how to live it, and pass that wisdom down the generations – or the true life stories of the famous and the infamous which service as an inspiration (or sometimes a warning) – or those more personal stories, the tales passed on by family and friends, about their life experience. And what about our own stories – the stories of our lives? Who are we sharing them with, and how? How might they be preserved? This hour, through readings and prayer, songs and silence, we’ll begin to explore these themes.
Let’s take a moment before we go any further to get settled, to arrive, to catch up with ourselves and prepare our hearts to worship. Let’s put aside any fretfulness that we came in carrying, as best we can. We make this hour sacred with our presence and intention. Let’s take a conscious breath or two, and do whatever we need to do, to ground ourselves in the here and now.
Chalice Lighting: ‘Our Ancestors’ Legacies’ by Kimberlee Anne Tomczak Carlson (adapted)
Let’s light our chalice flame now, as we do each week. 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 are a people of memory and hope; of faithfulness and liberation.
As inheritors of our ancestors’ legacies, we hold their stories tenderly.
Gleaning wisdom from diverse journeys; we unite in hope for the future.
Guide us to trust in truth and love as we kindle this flame together.
Hymn 43 (purple): ‘Gather the Spirit’
Let’s sing together now. Our first hymn is number 43 in your purple hymn books, ‘Gather the Spirit’. For those joining via Zoom the words will be up on screen. Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer. Sing up as best you can for this lovely gathering hymn.
Gather the spirit, harvest the power.
Our separate fires will kindle one flame.
Witness the mystery of this hour.
Our trials in this light appear all the same.
Gather in peace, gather in thanks.
Gather in sympathy now and then.
Gather in hope, compassion and strength.
Gather to celebrate once again.
Gather the spirit of heart and mind.
Seeds for the sowing are laid in store.
Nurtured in love and conscience refined,
with body and spirit united once more.
Gather in peace, gather in thanks.
Gather in sympathy now and then.
Gather in hope, compassion and strength.
Gather to celebrate once again.
Gather the spirit growing in all,
drawn by the moon and fed by the sun.
Winter to spring, and summer to fall,
the chorus of life resounding as one.
Gather in peace, gather in thanks.
Gather in sympathy now and then.
Gather in hope, compassion and strength.
Gather to celebrate once again.
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. This time we’re going to go to the people in the building first, and take all of those in one go, and then I’ll call on the people on Zoom to come forward.
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. Please do get up close to the microphone as that will help everyone hear (including the people at home). You can take the microphone out of the stand if it’s not at a good height and have it microphone pointing right at your mouth. And if you can’t get to the microphone give me a wave and I’ll bring it 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 L. Annie Foerster
Let’s take those joys and concerns into an extended time of prayer. This prayer is based on some words by L. Annie Foerster. 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. (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)
Giver of all gifts and grace, we know that life is a precious treasure.
Though we would appear at times to squander it,
remember all those ways in which we do not:
When we are happy, accept our outpouring joy
as gratitude for all opportunities, accepted and ignored.
When we are broken, accept our tears and anger
as gratitude for feeling deeply, for our ability to care.
When we reach out to others, accept our caring acts
as gratitude for the gifts of conscience and compassion.
When we choose solitude, accept our silence
as gratitude for the depth of spirit we are seeking.
When we act thoughtlessly, accept our mistakes
as gratitude for the freedom we have in our lives.
When we act foolishly, accept our careless lapses
as gratitude for the lessons we have yet to learn.
When we share our stories, accept the telling of our lives
as gratitude for friendship, family, community, and connection.
When we worship, accept our humble rituals and offerings
as symbols of gratitude for all they mean to represent. (pause)
And in a good few moments of shared silence and stillness,
may we speak inwardly some of those deepest prayers of our hearts —
maybe something in our own life or the life of the world is causing us sorrow and grief –
maybe we are feeling full of gratitude, and feel moved to give thanks for our blessings – let us each lift up whatever is on our heart this day, and ask for what we most need. (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
Story: ‘The Horse Might Talk’ (told by Hannah)
(Jane to intro): It’s about time we had a story, isn’t it? When I first came to this church back in 1999, the minister was Art Lester, and he’s currently still in active ministry with Croydon Unitarians. Stories were a regular part of Art’s services – stories drawn from all sorts of sources – and they made a great impression on me. I frequently call to mind key images or phrases from these tales – fragments that encapsulate all sorts of wisdom which, I like to think, has served me well in the intervening years. I expect some of you can call to mind your own favourite teaching stories – they do tend to stick in the mind – that’s a great part of their power. Art published a collection of his favourites a few years ago – ‘The Truth in Sixty Seconds’ – and Hannah is going to read one of those short stories for you now.
(Hannah): There was a certain court jester, whose job it was, by long tradition, to poke fun at the king and thereby keep him alert to the realities of life outside the splendid walls of his palace. Because of his privileged position, he alone could risk getting too personal with His Majesty’s affairs, his appearance, even the fact that he snored loudly at night. One day, however, he went too far, and accused the king of excessive flatulence.
The king became enraged. At the urging of his ministers, her resolved to punish the jester. The following day the jester was in the royal courtyard when the king rode up on his horse, accompanied by a squad of cavalry. He pointed to the jester and ordered his soldiers to put him to death.
The jester said, “Sire, of course you have every right to order my execution, but there is just one thing I’d like you to consider. If you have me killed, then I will not be able to teach your horse to talk.”
The king was startled. “How can you teach a beast to speak?” he scoffed. “Are you actually claiming that you can teach my horse to talk like a person?”
“Certainly, your majesty,” replied the jester. “If you give me one year to comply, I will do so.”
The king thought for a moment. Then he said, “All right then. I will spare your life for one year, but at the end of that time, if the horse can’t talk, I will have you killed.” He rode away, not looking back.
A bystander came over and said to the jester, “Now what are you going to do?’
The jester just smiled. He said, “In one year, the king might die, I might die, or the horse might talk.”
Hymn (on sheet): ‘Call Me By My Name’
Thanks Hannah. Let’s sing together again now. Our next hymn is on your hymn sheet and it’s a new one to me – by the UU composer Amanda Udis-Kessler as part of her Queer Sacred Music project – ‘Call Me By My Name’. The words are right on topic – the last verse says ‘the stories that we share will show us how to care’. It’s different to our usual style but I think it’s perfectly singable and the words are very lovely so let’s give it a go. Maybe George can play a verse through before we start to sing (and Benjie is here to help us of course). For those of you in the building I’ve given you the music – most of it is in the centre pages – but the final verse has an extra line and the music for that goes onto the back page. The words will be up on screen.
Call me by my name. Know me in my truth.
Trust the sacred flame that burns in me and you.
Listen to my song. I’m gentle and I’m strong,
With a love I can’t contain. Won’t you call me by my name?
Tell me who you are. Let your truth be known.
Cast away your fear for you are not alone.
Share your hopes and dreams. Together, we’ll be free
To rejoice with all our hearts. Won’t you tell me who you are?
As we come to learn the gifts we each can give,
We offer up in turn a better way to live.
The stories that we share will show us how to care.
You can help me do my part when you tell me who you are.
You can fill the world with grace when you call me by my name.
Reading: ‘Anecdotally’ by Vanessa Rush Southern (read by Sonya)
Ever wonder how we know what we know? I mean, how did you and I come to know all the things that are important to us – the truths that direct our choices and everything that gives our lives heft and power? For instance, I love science and all the ways it offers explanations and answers, but that isn’t how I know the things I am talking about here. I also love the clean truth of a mathematical equation, but that isn’t how I know these things. Nor is just being told certain rules, or given advice, even by those I respect. More and more, I realise that what I know-in-my-bones know, I know through story.
Some of the stories that anchor truths for me are myths and fables or appear in works of fiction. Just beneath the make-believe in these stories is some reality that I can lean on. They remind me that stories can be true without being factual.
My other favourites are the stories I have heard about people I have never met, stories that are probably embellished over time, but real nonetheless. The best of these are those about people who were visionary, who took creative risks, who showed courage, or who simply embodied goodness. Knowing they lived, for real, makes what they did and who they were seem more possible for the rest of us. Knowing their stories adds them to the cloud of witnesses I imagine hovering around us, urging us on.
Most compelling to me, though, are the stories I know up close and personally. That is to say, the stories I have witnessed and those from the lives of people I have met and known.
What does all this mean in practice? It means that some of what I know about compassion and the power of kindness I learned in the story of the Good Samaritan. And in poet Naomi Shihab Nye’s own story of being robbed and left at the roadside during her honeymoon in Colombia. Some of what I know and trust about forgiveness, I know from the stories of the people of South Africa and the work of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. And from my own eighth-grade crucible of being forgiven a hurtful transgression by a woman who has since become one of my best friends.
I have learned what I know about love from my parents, my husband, and even from watching strangers be together. But certainly also from the stories shared with me before every baby blessing, wedding, and funeral I have officiated. People have modelled courage right under my nose. I know too many stories about how the world can break or wound a person, but also arms-ful of tales that tell the miracle of just how resilient a human soul can be. And all of that has made clear to me our need to catch and protect one another, so as to leave more stories of wholeness, not brokenness, behind.
Everything – every thing that stirs me and asks for more, all that life instructs and demands – I know through story.
“It is absolutely crucial,” writes theologian Frederick Buechner, “to keep in constant touch with what is going on in our own life’s story and to pay close attention to what is going on in the stories of others’ lives. If God is present anywhere, it is in those stories… If God is not present in those stories, then you might as well give up the whole business.”
Meditation: ‘The Stories We Tell’ by Rabbi Rami Shapiro
Thanks Sonya. We’re moving into a time of meditation now. I’m going to share just a few words by Rabbi Rami Shapiro on ‘The Stories We Tell’ for us to focus on during this reflective time. This will take us into 3 minutes of silence which will end with the sound of a bell. Then we’ll hear some meditative music from George. So let’s each do what we need to do to get comfortable – adjust your position if you need to – put your feet flat on the floor to ground yourself – close your eyes. As we always say, the words are an offering, feel free to use this time to meditate in your own way.
‘The quality of our lives depends to a
great degree on the kinds of stories we tell.
Miserable people tend to tell stories of woe;
joyous people tend to tell stories of hope.
The question we must ask is this:
do our tales reflect the personality of the teller,
or do they create it? Does the tale mirror the teller,
or does the teller come to resemble the tale?
The safest answer, of course, is that it is a bit of both.
But my own experience as a rabbi and storyteller
is that the tale has greater power than the teller…
The stories we tell ourselves about ourselves determine
the quality of the selves we imagine we are.
The stories we tell about others determine
the quality of our relationships with them.
Stories are creative acts of world-making.
When we tell a story about ourselves
we create the self about which we are talking.’
Period of Silence and Stillness (~3 minutes) – end with a bell
Interlude: Verdi “Ah, la paterna mano” from Macbeth (played by George Ireland)
Online Reading: ‘What’s Your Story?’ by Susan Cain (adapted) (Jeannene)
What’s your life story? I don’t mean where you grew up, went to school, got your first job, etc. I mean what’s your STORY? What narrative have you constructed from the events of your life? And do you know that this is the single most important question you can ask yourself?
According to the fascinating field of “narrative psychology,” the stories we tell about ourselves are the key to our well-being. If you’ve interpreted the events of your life to mean that you’re unlucky or unwise, it’s hard to look optimistically at the future. Conversely, if you acknowledge that you’ve made mistakes and faced difficulties but seek (or have already glimpsed) redemption, you’ll feel a much greater sense of agency over your life.
That time you were laid off, for example, is it further proof that your career’s going nowhere? Or is it the best thing that ever happened, liberating you to find work that suits you better? What about your divorce? Is it a sign you’re unlucky in love or a difficult passage to a more hopeful romance?
The idea is not to delude yourself that bad things are actually good. It is, instead, to find meaning in the progression from one event to the next. It is to recognize that everything constantly changes. In your life, you will move from triumph to heartbreak to boredom and back again, sometimes in the space of a single day. What are you to make of so many emotions, so many events? The facts might matter less than the narrative. Our stories are everything. They are the heart of love and of meaning.
So what is your story? Are you telling the right one? And are you telling it to the right people?
A Few Words on Telling Our Own Stories
There’s no sermon from me this week – not a reflection – not even ‘some thoughts on’ – just ‘a few words’ – and they’re mostly words of encouragement – encouragement to tell your stories.
This week’s service theme was chosen, in part, with one eye on the spring mini-retreat we’ve got coming up over the first weekend in March – online on the 2nd and in-person on the 3rd – the theme of this next mini-retreat is ‘The Stories of Our Lives’. The idea for the workshop came about because over the years I’ve been involved in a few funerals for family and friends – and I’ve been somewhat surprised and dismayed at how sketchy my sense of my loved ones’ life stories has turned out to be after they’d gone – so when we’ve come to write a eulogy it’s required a fair bit of detective work (to piece together the details of the life they led before I knew them and paint a more complete picture).
Before my mum died, I’d been to a workshop Sarah had run about funeral planning, in which she encouraged us to jot down a few notes about our life, for the benefit of those we leave behind. And mum had made a few notes, just on one page, which were helpful when the time came, but I wish she’d left more. So many of the stories she’d told me down the years got mixed up in my mind once she was gone (and she was keeper of the stories; sadly my dad’s not been able to fill the gaps).
So I want to encourage you to write down your life story – as you would want it to be remembered – all those memories that are significant to you – tell your story the way you want it to be told (while you still have the capacity to do so – and, of course, while the story remains unfinished). It doesn’t have to be an epic endeavour that captures every detail – just write something for posterity – collect together a handful of key memories – and think about who you might want to share them with and how. It’s a real gift for those you leave behind. And, if you like, we can begin that process together at the mini-retreat next month where I’ll offer some structured prompts to help you get underway.
To close I just want to offer some more words of encouragement to share your story – words from Frederick Buechner – who writes: ‘My story is important not because it is mine, God knows, but because if I tell it anything like right, the chances are you will recognize that in many ways it is also yours. Maybe nothing is more important than that we keep track, you and I, of these stories of who we are and where we have come from and the people we have met along the way because it is precisely through these stories in all their particularity, as I have long believed and often said, that God is made known to each of us most powerfully and personally.’ May it be so for the greater good of all. Amen.
Hymn 208 (purple): ‘When Our Heart is in a Holy Place’
Time for our last hymn, it’s number 208 in your purple books, and we’re back on familiar ground with this one: ‘When Our Heart is in a Holy Place’. Please sing up and let’s enjoy our closing hymn.
When our heart is in a holy place,
when our heart is in a holy place,
we are blessed with love and amazing grace,
when our heart is in a holy place.
When we trust the wisdom in each of us,
ev’ry colour, ev’ry creed and kind,
and we see our faces in each other’s eyes,
then our heart is in a holy place.
When our heart is in a holy place,
when our heart is in a holy place,
we are blessed with love and amazing grace,
when our heart is in a holy place.
When we tell our story from deep inside,
and we listen with a loving mind,
and we hear our voice in each other’s words,
then our heart is in a holy place.
When our heart is in a holy place,
when our heart is in a holy place,
we are blessed with love and amazing grace,
when our heart is in a holy place.
When we share the silence of sacred space,
and the God of our heart stirs within,
and we feel the power of each other’s faith,
then our heart is in a holy place.
When our heart is in a holy place,
when our heart is in a holy place,
we are blessed with love and amazing grace,
when our heart is in a holy place.
When our heart is in a holy place.
Announcements:
Thanks to Ramona for tech-hosting. Thanks to Jeanenne for co-hosting and welcoming everyone online. Thanks to Hannah, Sonya, and Jeannene for reading. Thanks to George to playing for us today and Benjie for supporting our singing. Thanks to Juliet for doing coffee and Hannah for greeting. For those of you who are in-person – please do stay for a cuppa and cake after the service – it’s my favourite pear and ginger cake this week – served in the hall next door. If you’re joining on Zoom please do hang on after for a chat with Jeannene.
We have various small group activities during the week. Stay behind after today’s service for ‘Many Voices’ with Tati and Gaynor – that’s a long-running LGBTQIA+ singing group – allies are very welcome – that starts at 1pm and congregation members can participate in that for free.
Heart and Soul, our contemplative spiritual gathering, is happening tonight, Sunday, and Friday online. It’s a landmark occasion – our 200th week of online gatherings – it’s a great way to get to know people more deeply. This week’s theme is ‘Community’. Sign up with me!
This Wednesday evening we have the in-person poetry group – have a word with Brian if you want to know more – and send him any poems that you want to share so he can print copies for everyone. Sonya is back with her Nia dance classes on Friday lunchtime from 12.30pm.
Looking a bit further ahead, if you want to join the ‘Better World Book Club’ online, our next session will be on Sunday 25th February when we’ll be exploring ‘Less is More’ by Jason Hickel – that’s on an environmental theme – we have a few church copies if you’d like to borrow one.
On the first weekend in March we’ll have our next mini-retreat, on ‘The Stories of Our Lives’, the plan is to offer it online on the Saturday and in-person on the Sunday, but if you want to attend it is essential for you to register in advance, as we need at least six sign-ups to go ahead and we’ll make that call on the Wednesday before. If you want it to go ahead sign up early!
Next Sunday we’ll be back here at 11am, when we’ll be looking forward to the season of Lent through the lens of ‘Strength Training’. I’m planning to bring my dumbbells to church!
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. Please do sign up for the mailing list if you haven’t already. 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.
I think that’s everything. Just time for our closing words and closing music now.
Benediction: based on words by Lizzie Kingston Harrison
As we leave here today, we give thanks for the many stories of our lives,
and for all those who hold us gently while we tell them.
We leave grateful for the listeners, for those who sit quietly
and give us the gift of a version of ourselves born in a moment of tender grace.
And we leave grateful for the storytellers, who,
with courage and love, give us the gift of their true selves.
So, in the days to come, may we share our stories,
and gain wisdom and insight from the sharing. Amen.
Closing Music: Handel “Da tempeste il legno infranto from Giulio cesare (played by George Ireland)
Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall
4th February 2024