We Live and Learn

Sunday Service, 11 January 2026

Led by Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall

Musical Prelude: Säg mig du lilla fogel - Laura Netzel (performed by Holly Redshaw and Andrew Robinson)   

Opening Words: ‘We Gather Here in Search’ by Sue Ayer (adapted)

We gather here in search of answers to life’s big questions.

We have come in search of understanding, in search of community.

We have come in search of stillness and solace, hope and healing.

Let this be a place not only of searching, but of discovery.

Let this be a place of learning, but of wisdom.

Let this be a place not only of meeting, but of connection.

And let this be a place where healing fosters giving, and hope fosters service.

This is our prayer: that we may create here a circle of love, ever expanding,

ever growing, as we seek to know the very source of our being.  (pause)

Words of Welcome and Introduction: 

These words from Sue Ayer 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 ‘We Live and Learn’ – but do we? It’s perhaps not inevitable that we learn. We might bumble our way through life and miss a lot of the potential lessons along the way. In this morning’s service we’ll be reflecting on the ways in which we can best remain open and attentive throughout our lives, so that we might avoid complacency, and keep learning and growing. Parker J. Palmer – one of my spiritual role models, we’ll hear more from him later – he said this (the words are on the front of the OOS): ‘Stay on the alert for teachable moments in your life, moments when vulnerability opens you to deep learning. Never be embarrassed to have to learn the same thing again, because each time you re-learn it, the learning reaches deeper down… there is no end to learning.’

Chalice Lighting: ‘Bringing Us Home to Love’ by Frances Koziar (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 today as a people dedicated

to personal growth and lifelong development.

May it burn away the oppressions we have been taught,

and glow instead with the humility of learning.

May it reignite our dreams for a better world,

and kindle our joy for simple, compassionate, living.

May its warmth extend out into the forgotten alleyways of exclusion,

and bring us home to love, to welcoming,

and to all the challenges, the questions, and the blessings

of this beautiful path to becoming beloved community.

Hymn (on sheet): ‘For the Splendour of Creation’

Our first hymn is on your hymn sheets and it’s to a well-known tune: ‘For the Splendour of Creation’. For those joining on zoom the words will be up on screen. Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer.

For the splendour of creation that draws us to inquire,

for the mystery of knowledge to which our hearts aspire,

for the deep and subtle beauties which delight the eye and ear,

for the discipline of logic, the struggle to be clear,

for the unexplained remainder, the puzzling and the odd:

for the joy and pain of learning, we give you thanks, O God.

For the scholars past and present whose bounty we digest,

for the teachers who inspire us to summon forth our best,

for our rivals and companions, sometimes foolish, sometimes wise,

for the human web upholding this noble enterprise,

for the common life that binds us through days that soar or plod:

for this place and for these people, we give you thanks, O God.

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 Lyn Cox

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

We come together this morning, and every Sunday morning,

as we each continue on our unique path through this life,

joining to remember and reaffirm our commitment

to our highest values and the common good.

Grant us the courage to continue on the journey,

the courage to act and speak for the well-being

of others, and ourselves, and the planet we share.

May we forgive ourselves and each other

when our courage and care falls short,

and may we resolve to try again, in love.

Grant us hearts to love boldly,

to embody our faith and our values

each day in living words and deeds.

May our hearts open to embrace

humility, grace, and reconciliation.

Grant us the ability to learn and grow,

to let the Spirit of Love and Truth work

its transformation upon us and within us.

Grant us the spirit of radical hospitality,

the willingness to sustain a dwelling place

for the holy that resides in all being.

Grant us a sense of being at peace in the world,

even as we are in perpetual motion,

tossed and turned by life’s tempests.

Let us cultivate – together – the strength

to welcome every kind of gift life brings our way

and all manner of ways to be on the journey together. (pause)

And let us take a few moments now to look inward, get in touch with what’s real,

what is going on beneath the surface of our lives this morning.

Let us notice what we’re carrying. What troubles us. What is bubbling up.

What questions or uncertainties we are faced with. What hopes and dreams we nurture.

And from that place of realness – silently, inwardly, ask for

what you most need – ask God, or cast it out into the Universe –

even if you’re the only one to hear your prayer – name what you need this day. (pause)

And let give thanks for what we already have. Look back on the week

and recall all those moments of kindness, comfort, pleasure, even joy.

Silently, inwardly, take the time to savour those gifts, and take in the good. (pause)

And let us turn outwards now, shifting our attention to the world around us,

starting with those dear ones closest to our heart, stretching ever outward,

and spreading all around this planet, holding all beings in the light of love. (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: ‘The Facts of Life’ by Padraig O’Tuama (read by John)

That you were born

and you will die.

That you will sometimes love enough

and sometimes not.

That you will lie

if only to yourself.

That you will get tired.

That you will learn most from the situations

you did not choose.

That there will be some things that move you

more than you can say.

That you will live

that you must be loved.

That you will avoid questions most urgently in need of

your attention.

That you began as the fusion of a sperm and an egg

of two people who once were strangers

and may well still be.

That life isn’t fair.

That life is sometimes good

and sometimes better than good.

That life is often not so good.

That life is real

and if you can survive it, well,

survive it well

with love

and art

and meaning given

where meaning’s scarce.

That you will learn to live with regret.

That you will learn to live with respect.

That the structures that constrict you

may not be permanently constraining.

That you will probably be okay.

That you must accept change

before you die

but you will die anyway.

So you might as well live

and you might as well love.

You might as well love.

You might as well love.

Hymn 42 (green): ‘A Dream of Widening Love’

Thanks John. In the spirit of those closing words, let’s sing again – our second hymn is number 42 in your green book – ‘A Dream of Widening Love’.

We rest awhile in quietness,

The world not to forget,

But rather shape the silence

And words and thoughts we've met

To nobler ways of living,

To hope-filled truth, above

Our narrow selves, to seek one

Great dream of widening love.

We share a world where sorrow

And poverty and greed

Live side by side with privilege

Of wealth beyond true need;

Yet though we cannot alter

All ways of humankind,

We ask a strength within us

To right the wrongs we find.

We know that strength is weakened

By narrow truths and fears,

That still we claim true knowledge,

Deny the changing years:

Yet here, within the silence,

We question what we know,

That through more honest persons

All humankind may grow.

To find Eternal Meaning

Deep in each passing hour,

To seek beyond the confines

Of our small powers, one Power.

Strength deep within our being,

Arise as hope and will:

Come, silent living Spirit,

With peace our spirits fill.

In-Person Reading: ‘Learning As We Live’ by Penny Quest (read by Hannah)

Life is a wonderful, precious thing,

Yet even in the most difficult circumstances,

Those times which stretch us beyond endurance,

When we wonder why,

There is a cruel beauty,

a lesson to be learnt.

Always there is something good just waiting to be discovered,

Some personal growth to be gained,

Some knowledge about ourselves to unfold,

Some spiritual understanding which excites our being.

To learn about love and understanding;

To love ourselves as others love us;

To bring the healing warmth of love to as many people as we can;

To spread love and understanding around us wherever we go, to people,

to our fellow creatures who share this world with us, and to the earth itself.

To learn to understand ourselves and to reach out to bring that spark of understanding to them.

To learn about giving and forgiving;

To give without expectation of any reward;

To receive as graciously and happily as we give;

To forgive ourselves and to teach others how to forgive;

To feel complete, content and loved no matter how much we receive;

To help others in many different, healing ways.

To learn about peace and harmony;

To feel at peace with ourselves;

To live in harmony with our environment;

To bring the experience of peace and contentment to ourselves and those around us;

To be gentle, and to spread that gentleness in a warm tide amongst those we meet;

To find peace, joy and happiness in everything we do, and are, and have been, and will be.

To discover the limitless nature of our being;

To open our eyes to the beauties and wonder of this world, and of the next;

To understand the vastness of eternity;

To realise that darkness is not emptiness;

To discover our own spiritual path; To help others find their spiritual paths;

To be at one with All That Is;

To be at one.

Words for Meditation: ‘But Not a Moment Sooner’ by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

Thanks Hannah. We’re moving into a time of meditation now. To take us into stillness we’re going to hear a lovely poem by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer which speaks to some of those life lessons it takes a long time for us to learn. After the poem 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 – adjust your position – put your feet flat on the floor to ground yourself – close your eyes. This is an offering, an invitation, feel free to use this time to meditate in your own way.

‘But Not a Moment Sooner’ by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

Eventually we learn to laugh when we drop

the glass and it shatters all over the floor,

finding laughter more fun than a shackle of curses.

We can wiggle our butt more when someone

says it looks big instead of trying to tuck it

tighter beneath our hips. Eventually we learn

there is no way to not be exactly ourselves.

What freedom then. We can listen to the sound

of our own voice without cringing. Can dance

in front of anyone. Can wake up grateful for our aging face

in the mirror. Can wear questions like exotic perfume

and see how they grow us. Eventually,

we can look at each other and say,

I’m so glad you are exactly who you are.

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

Interlude: Mvt 1: Andante from Sonata for Bassoon in C Major - J. F. Fasch (performed by Holly Redshaw and Andrew Robinson) 

In-Person Reading: ‘Learning is the Thing for You’ by Parker J. Palmer (excerpts, adapted)

This reading is on the long side, but I love it, and couldn’t bear to cut it further. It’s an excerpt from a recent blog post by Parker J. Palmer, Quaker educator, founder of the Centre for Courage and Renewal, he’s one of my spiritual role models as I said earlier.

He writes: In my mid-twenties, I read T. H. White’s novel, The Once and Future King, his 1958 retelling of the legend of King Arthur. Early in the story, Merlyn the Wizard takes the young Arthur under his wing. In the quote below, he’s helping his young ward deal with some deep sadness. Merlyn’s words have stayed with me for sixty years, though it took a couple of decades to understand what they meant for me in practice. (Here’s the quote:)

“The best thing for being sad,” replied Merlyn … “is to learn something. That is the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world around you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then—to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the thing for you.” (end of quote)

Parker J Palmer continues: As life eroded my youthful pretensions, learning became my path to wholeness. I don’t mean the kind of learning that leads to a credential or a job, nor did Merlyn. I mean the kind that evokes the soul, that helps us find our way through suffering, our own and others’, that opens our eyes to life’s vitality and exuberance. I mean the kind of learning we need to stay whole in barbaric times such as our own, as we watch “the world around [us] devastated by evil lunatics,” and feel our own identity and integrity, and that of people we love, “trampled in the sewers of baser minds.”

From mid-life onward, I’ve learned: …to keep life in perspective by spending time in the natural world. …to navigate hard times by talking with friends who know how to listen, ask open questions, and “hear me into speech.” …to see into my inner turmoil by spending time in silence and solitude, letting the roiled waters settle until the source of the trouble becomes clear. …to feel more at home in the human world by embracing the “booming, buzzing confusion” of a diverse community. …to value creative conflict by working with others to develop a project or help shape an institution. …to grow by examining my failures for clues about my illusions.

I’ve learned from books, too, of course. But I’ve cut back on the academic works I had to master in college and grad school. Instead, I read the poets, novelists and inner-life spelunkers who explore life’s imponderables, the big questions about living and dying that become more urgent as we age. …Writing is another path to discovery, a way of learning more about myself and the world. I write about what I don’t understand, using language to peel back layer after layer of experience until I get to a place where I can say, “I’ve gone as far as I can go. Let’s call it a book!”

Learning comes in many forms, and in different forms to different people. But there’s a red thread that runs through all of them, I think. They all demand that we pay attention to the world and to ourselves… Stay on the alert for teachable moments in your life, moments when vulnerability opens you to deep learning. Never be embarrassed to have to learn the same thing again, because each time you re-learn it, the learning reaches deeper down: intend it or not, you’re practicing what Buddhists call “beginner’s mind.” Finally, let Merlyn’s words take you to the end of life, because there is no end to learning.

Mini-Reflection: ‘We Live and Learn’ by Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall

‘We live and learn’ – that’s how the saying goes – but do we? Do we always, inevitably, learn as we live? Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s entirely guaranteed… it seems to be perfectly possible for us poor humans to bumble our way through life in a fairly unreflective and oblivious manner, and miss a lot of the lessons that come our way. But by the very fact you’re here this morning, I guess that you aspire to lifelong learning – not primarily the sort that you might pick up by going to evening classes or the U3A – but the learning that comes by being open, attentive, and curious in the face of whatever new, potentially challenging, experiences life brings our way.

I came across a blog post by Adeola Odubajo exploring the phrase ‘we live and learn’. She says: ‘Life doesn’t come with a syllabus. There are no structured semesters, no final exams, and no degree at the end. Yet, life is the most complex, enriching, and brutally honest school we’ll ever attend. Every experience — whether triumphant or tragic — becomes a life lesson. The phrase “We live and learn” captures this beautifully. It’s simple, almost cliché, but behind those few words lies a profound philosophy that defines the essence of human growth. It suggests that mistakes, missteps, and even mundane moments all carry lessons. It’s a reminder that perfection is not the goal — progress is. Living is not just existing. It’s engaging with the world, making choices, taking risks, falling down, and getting back up. And in doing all this, we learn — not just about the world, but about ourselves. Every success teaches us what works. Every failure teaches us what doesn’t. Both are essential. To live and to learn means embracing failure not as a setback, but as a crucial step forward. It’s understanding that you may fall, but you’re not meant to stay down.’ 

Words from Adeola Odubajo, Now, she said ‘life doesn’t come with a syllabus’, but several of my friends often speak of the spiritual notion that each of us humans has our own particular ‘curriculum’ to tackle during our time here on earth – a phrase I associate with our own Sarah and Michaela especially – and that idea can be a helpful way of framing the various ups and downs we face in the course of our lives. Whenever we encounter a bump, or get knocked back, whenever we find ourselves engaged with something or someone we find challenging, we can ask ‘what is the lesson for me here?’ As Padraig O’Tuama said, we may learn most from situations we did not choose.

But we can’t take it for granted that we will learn from our life experiences. Learning doesn’t happen automatically; we need to work at it, and we mustn’t be complacent. When we say, ‘we live and learn’, it’s often provoked by being confronted with a new way of seeing things, it’s an acknowledgement of something we didn’t know before.   Or it can be an acknowledgement that we’ve taken a wrong turning (and we won’t do it again). Sometimes it’s just a general reflection on our perspective changing as we get older.  John Shea, a Jesuit theologian, made this wise observation: ‘It is harder to learn from life than you think. Life is a series of fragmented activities. We need to pay attention in order to learn from life. For there is more going on than you know.’

I know many of us in the congregation do make an active effort to engage with the world in such a way that we are exposed to new ideas, new ways of seeing things, perspectives that will open up new understanding of ourselves and what is possible for us in our time here on earth (as individuals, as a community, as a species). For example, we make a point of engaging in meaningful conversation with people in different age brackets (that’s one of the very good things about being part of a church community), or we read testimonies from people with very different life experiences to our own (and in fact we’re going to hear more about that in next week’s service). Perhaps we also have spiritual practices – prayer, meditation – to hone our attention and awareness. All this helps prevent us from getting too fixed and stuck in our ways.

Despite our best efforts, though, in life we sometimes find ourselves butting our head up against the same issues – making the same mistakes – again and again. We seem to be stuck in a loop, or a rut, hopelessly drawn back into the same old familiar patterns. Falling down the same hole. I wonder, how many of you are familiar with the poem by Portia Nelson, ‘Autobiography in Five Short Chapters’?   A dear friend introduced me to this at summer school over twenty-five years ago and I had a very strong reaction to it at first hearing – it was too close to the bone – I felt ‘called out’ by it – all these years later I have warmed to it somewhat… which feels like part of my own process of living and learning. I recognise its truth.

I’ll share it with you now (there’s a copy in the OOS and it’s also on the website).

‘Autobiography in Five Short Chapters’

by Portia Nelson

I

I walk down the street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk

I fall in.

I am lost … I am helpless.

It isn’t my fault.

It takes me forever to find a way out.

II

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I pretend I don’t see it.

I fall in again.

I can’t believe I am in the same place

but, it isn’t my fault.

It still takes a long time to get out.

III

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I see it is there.

I still fall in … it’s a habit.

my eyes are open

I know where I am.

It is my fault.

I get out immediately.

IV

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I walk around it.

V

I walk down another street.

‘Autobiography in Five Short Chapters’ by Portia Nelson – written back in 1977. Hopefully hearing that wasn’t as ouchy for you as it was for me, all those years ago, but also hopefully it will have had some resonance. I reckon we all have these key issues and patterns of behaviour we wrestle with over the course of a lifetime. Progress can be slow. Maybe we start out with no awareness of the problem. Then, perhaps through our own self-reflection, perhaps with the help of trusted others who can shed light on our situation and offer alternative perspectives, we can begin to see more clearly. It might take longer still to turn that awareness into a change in our behaviour or our circumstances. Eventually – there’s hope – learning can bring transformation.

But we only ‘live and learn’ if we take the raw material of our life experience and look at it honestly and – lovingly, compassionately – engage with the reality of it. The good, the bad, the mundane, the marvellous. Owning it. The whole mess of it. It’s not fun to acknowledge our mistakes. Sometimes it’s tempting to try and brush them off, pretend they didn’t happen, cook up some justification, blame others, avoid looking at our own stuff, what’s our responsibility, where we’ve fallen short. Or we might be tempted in the other direction, to self-recrimination, seeing ourselves as an irredeemable wrong’un, taking it all on ourselves, and assuming it’s inevitable that we’ll keep falling down the same hole forever, that there’s no hope of change.

It’s not just about learning from our mistakes though, and dwelling on the tough stuff. For some of us it’s just as hard to own our triumphs, our achievements, our growth. But it’s equally important to notice and learn from the things that went well. In our prayers each week we offer up ‘our beauty and our brokenness’; we need to hold both tenderly. These are the lessons hinted at by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer: ‘Eventually we learn to laugh when we drop the glass and it shatters all over the floor’/‘What freedom then. We can listen to the sound of our own voice without cringing. Can dance in front of anyone.’

Hazrat Inayat Khan once said: ‘The real learning is unlearning all that one has learned.’ And it’s true that sometimes – particularly in our early years – we can learn lessons which we’ll spend the rest of our lives trying to unlearn. We might have drawn the  wrong conclusions or misinterpreted our early life experiences; we might have been misinformed or led astray by others; we might be in denial about the impact of all this. Sometimes in the aftermath of neglect or trauma we learn lessons which might serve to protect us in the short term but which inhibit our full human flourishing in the long term. Unlearning such lessons – liberating ourselves from this burden – requires a great deal of courage, and appropriate support, and even so it can still be the work of a lifetime. 

So what have we learned (about living and learning (and unlearning))? Perhaps to realise and remember there will always be more to learn. The task is never done. And in order to keep on learning it kind-of helps to be dissatisfied! To keep wondering, questioning, even returning to the same questions, and going round again, deeper each time, as Parker J Palmer said. We need to remain open, attentive, curious – and honest – our whole life long, reflecting on both our best and our worst moments. And to face our life’s ‘curriculum’ with all the courage and self-compassion we can muster.

I want to close with a very short prayer-poem from Deb Cannon. It’s written in the first person but perhaps you can take the message and inwardly make it your own.

I have made mistakes

and some I have even learned from.

I am wiser today than I was yesterday

and hopefully tomorrow

I will be even better informed.

May I speak from my learning

and not from my habit.

If I speak from my habit,

may I interrupt my words to start again.

And if I don't know, may I be silent and listen.

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

Hymn (on sheet): ‘We Belong to One Another’

Time for one last hymn and it’s also on your hymn sheet: ‘We Belong to One Another’.

We belong to one another. To each other we are bound

As we build a world together full of joy that we have found.

What we are we owe to others. When they need us, we respond.

We belong to one another and we hold a common bond.

We rely on one another at the dawning of our days

When we learn from those around us how to live in loving ways.

As we grow, we need each other and the gifts that we can share.

As our lives come to their ending, how we need each other’s care.

We give thanks for one another, for each heart and hand and face.

We are grateful for the blessings that infuse our lives with grace.

May we offer our abundance. As we’re given, may we give.

In our thanks for one another, may we help each other live.

Announcements:

Thanks to Ramona for hosting and Charlotte for co-hosting. Thanks to Holly and Andrew for lovely music and to Benjie for supporting our singing (welcome back Benjie, we missed you!). Thanks to John and Hannah for reading. Thanks to John for greeting and Pat and Anna for making coffee. If you are in-person do stay for cake (I’ve made another new one, speculoos cake, also apple and pear). If you’re online hang around for a chat with Charlotte if you can.

After you’ve had your cup of tea please come back into the church for yoga with Hannah. If you’ve not taken part in the yoga sessions you’ll need to fill in a health form before you do so.

Tonight and Friday at 7pm we’ve got our ‘Heart and Soul’ online contemplative spiritual gathering – this week it’s on the theme of ‘Retreat’. Email me if you want to join.

Looking further ahead we have the Better World Book Club at the end of the month when we’ll be talking about ‘Don’t Forget We’re Here Forever’ by Lamorna Ash – a very interesting reflection on how some younger people are returning to religion – and a slice of life in varied churches in the UK. There is still one copy to borrow if you’d like to come along.

Next Sunday we’ll be back here at 11am when our service will be titled ‘A Thousand Lives’, and that will feature mini-reflections from Lochlann, Patricia, Rajan and Marianne. And next week we also have the Crafternoon after the service, please let me know if you’re coming to that, you can bring your own project, or do some colouring, or rummage in the craft boxes, and I’ve said I’ll do a little demonstration of feltmaking this time which is something I haven’t done in ages, if that’s of interest.

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 Amy Zucker Morgenstern

In every moment of our lives, in every person we meet,

we find an opportunity for us to grow, to learn, to go further

along the path of transformation that is perhaps our purpose in life.

So may the coming week bring you many such moments

that help you become the person you want to be,

and may you welcome these encounters with joy.

May we truly live and learn, for the greater good of all. Amen.

Closing Music: Dance - Leila Agolli (performed by Holly Redshaw and Andrew Robinson)   

Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall

11th January 2026