What a Picture!

Sunday Service, 29 June 2025

Led by Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall

Musical Prelude: Pastel by Emile Paladilhe (performed by Andrew Robinson)  

Opening Words: ‘Amid All the Noise in Our Lives’ by Tim Haley

Amid all the noise in our lives,

we take this moment to sit quietly together --

to give thanks for another day;

to give thanks for all those in our lives

who have brought us warmth and love;

to give thanks for the gift of life.

We know we are on our pilgrimage here but a brief moment in time.

Let us open ourselves, here, now,

to the process of becoming more whole --

of living more fully;

of giving and forgiving more freely;

of understanding more completely

the meaning of our lives here on this earth. (pause)

Words of Welcome and Introduction: 

These words from Tim Haley welcome all who have gathered this morning for our Sunday service. Welcome to those who have gathered in-person at Essex Church on this sweltering weekend, to all who are joining us via Zoom, and anyone tuning in at a later date via YouTube or the podcast.  For anyone who doesn’t know me, I’m Jane Blackall, and I’m minister with Kensington Unitarians.

Our service today is titled ‘What a Picture!’ It’s National Camera Day – an occasion to celebrate the art of photography – and so this morning we’ll be reflecting on the power of taking pictures, the memories and meanings that photographs can hold, and the insights that they can open up for us. There’s a spiritual aspect to this of course (as there is to everything, really!). As Dewitt Jones writes: ‘Photography for me is a spiritual practice. It’s a discipline that connects me more closely to the core of the universe and the core of my own being. It opens my eyes and, in doing so, allows my heart and soul to open, as well…. God gave me photography so that I could pray with my eyes.’

Chalice Lighting: ‘This Place’ by Cliff Reed (freely 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) 

This community is a fellowship of the progressive path –

open-minded, open-hearted – at least, that’s our aspiration.

This is a place to share insights and ideas,

a place to foster faith and sometimes find joy,

a place where we can be ourselves, and let others do the same;

a place where we can be real about our untidy lives

and bring our confusion, our pain, our despair. 

This is a place for the whole of life’s experience,

as messy as that may be; a place for healing and solace;

for solidarity and hope; for encouragement and nurture;

a place to face this life – in all its complex shadings.

May this chalice be to us a reminder of the community that holds us all – together.

Hymn 181 (purple): ‘Wake, Now, My Senses’

Our first hymn this morning is number 181 in your purple books, ‘Wake, Now, My Senses’. For those who read music please don’t be confused – we’re singing it to a different tune – ‘Slane’. For those on zoom the words will be up on screen for all our hymns. Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer.

Wake, now, my senses, and hear the earth call;

feel the deep power of being in all;

keep with the web of creation your vow,

giving, receiving as love shows us how.

Wake, now, my reason, reach out to the new;

join with each pilgrim who quests for the true;

honour the beauty and wisdom of time;

suffer thy limit, and praise the sublime.

Wake, now, compassion, give heed to the cry;

voices of suffering fill the wide sky;

take as your neighbour both stranger and friend,

praying and striving their hardship to end.

Wake, now, my conscience, with justice thy guide;

join with all people whose rights are denied;

take not for granted a privileged place;

God's love embraces the whole human race.

Wake, now, my vision of ministry clear;

brighten my pathway with radiance here;

mingle my calling with all who would share;

work toward a planet transformed by our care.

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 the enfleshed collective

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

In these days when so much of our world is groaning with fatigue and injustice,

and global instability seems to threaten so much we hold dear,

we are invited to turn to God and to one another;

turn to the deepest reality we know: the oneness at the heart of all.

We are not meant to carry the struggles of the world alone.

And so, in a spirit of collective embrace this morning,

may we share together in prayer for all that troubles our hearts.

For all of the bodies in suffering – the sick and injured – deprived of resources,

withheld from care, or made into targets of violence. Hear our prayers.

For all whose spirits are in despair – the troubled and tormented – facing loss or grief,

lonely or isolated, and those struggling to accept their own worth. Hear our prayers.

For all of the ways power is wielded unjustly – for those living under oppressive regimes,

for the temptation to look away, or be complicit in injustice, and for the ways your name

is used as a weapon rather than a tool for healing and liberation.  Hear our prayers. (pause)

In a few moments of silence and stillness now, let us call to mind

those sufferings and struggles that weigh heavy on our hearts this day,

and let us hold them gently in the light of love; that larger love that holds all. (longer pause)

Just as we are not meant to shoulder the world’s pain and suffering alone,

we are equally meant to delight with one another in the joy that sustains us.

For the beauty and creative love that grows around us and within us, we give thanks.

For the gifts of sharing and relationships that transform and sustain us - we give thanks.

For art and music and stories and truths that foster love and connection - we give thanks.

For every source of courage in the face of all that makes us afraid - we give thanks. (pause)

In a few moments of silence and stillness now, let us call to mind

some of the many gifts we have been given in the week just passed,

and inwardly treasure these blessings, be they large or small, with gratitude. (longer pause)

For your presence within and around us, in our highs and lows, God, we give thanks.

Hear our prayers and deepen our willingness to faithfully show up for one another,

sharing in each other’s burdens and working for one another’s protection and care.  (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: ‘This Photograph’ by Elise Frame (read by Pat)

This short poem by Elise Frame was written during a time when she was undergoing gruelling cancer treatment. She discovered the poem in her journal a couple of years later, when she was in better health, and shared it online with the observation: “This poem was written down hastily, as if I hadn’t given it much previous thought, yet it just seemed to flow out of me... looking back, I cannot for the life of me seem to think which photo this poem was written about… As a photographer, I aim to create beautiful images where the lighting and the composition perfectly frame the subject in an artfully crafted way. However, my focus has shifted from the creation of a flawless finished project and more towards the natural beauty of what is really being captured… the gift of life.” So here is her poem, ‘The Photograph’ by Elise Frame.

In this photograph,

The clothes don't matter.

The setting is irrelevant.

The lighting is secondary.

Whether the people are all smiling or not,

Whether we're all looking the same way...

It doesn't matter.

The thing that makes this worn, old photo

So dearly special

Is simply the fact that we're all in it-

Healthy, together, and loving.

This photograph is proof that we are blessed.

That is what makes for photographic excellence.

Because somewhere along the line,

It stopped being about looking good,

And started being about realizing we have it good.

Hymn 39 (purple): ‘For the Splendour of Creation’

Thanks Pat. Let’s sing again – our second hymn is number 39 – ‘For the Splendour of Creation’.

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.

In-Person Reading: ‘The Eyes of the Heart’ by Christine Valters Paintner (excerpts, adapted)

My journey with photography began when I was a very young girl. My maternal grandparents owned a chain of photography stores called Fitts Photo and Hobby Shop in Massachusetts, and so I have had a camera for as long as I can remember.

Photography has always been a way for me to see more deeply, but my awareness of how this was an experience of prayer and often an encounter with the sacred presence emerged over time. It wasn’t until I embraced monastic spirituality in my late twenties that I began to experience photography consciously as a contemplative practice.

I began to see photography as a way to slow down and gaze deeply, noticing things I missed in my rushed life. For me, the camera provided an encounter with the eternal moment – that place in which I was able to suddenly become so present to what I was gazing upon that I lost track of time – allowing eternity to break in. It became a tool for deeper vision, supporting and enlivening contemplative seeing.

Photography is often seen as a tool to be used for far-flung journeys and recording family events, but a photographic journey can also be taken right in your own neighbourhood – as close as the street you live on – as a way of discovering the everyday places you inhabit in new ways. Whether it’s taken with as fancy high-end camera, or the camera on your phone, a photo can be made special by your discovery, by paying attention.

Photography as a spiritual practice combines the active art of image-receiving with the contemplative nature and open-heartedness of prayer. It cultivates what I call ‘sacred seeing’ or ‘seeing with the eyes of the heart’. This kind of seeing is our ability to receive the world around us at a deeper level than surface realities. It becomes a journey of discovery, where we open ourselves to what is being revealed moment by moment, rather than what we hope or expect to see. There is an invitation to transform photography into a spiritual practice by attending to the process, and thereby deepening our relationship to God, to the world around us, and to ourselves.

I take my camera out into the world, and it invites me to slow down and linger over moments of beauty. It opens me to wonder and delight. As I cultivate sacred seeing, I grow my ability to see the world beneath the surface appearance of things. This is one of the wonders of photography: to be able to frame a moment in time and, within my gaze and absolute presence in that particular moment, to discover holiness. In that single moment, I am reminded that all moments are holy.

Words for Meditation: ‘Our Photographic Shrines’

Thanks Juliet.  We’re moving into a time of meditation now. I’m going to share a few words from Shaun McNiff, an invitation to reflect on photos that are dear to us, to take us into 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 comfy – adjust your position if you need to – perhaps put your feet flat on the floor to ground yourself – close your eyes. As we always say, the words are just an offering, so feel free to use this time to meditate in your own way.

Shaun McNiff, who’s written a lot on the spirituality of everyday things, has said:

‘Photos have become primary artifacts in domestic shrines throughout the world.

They have an uncanny way of catching and preserving the history of the soul's formation,

the fleeting instants caught by the camera as well as the carefully planned rituals of a family.

They carry memories and old details that would otherwise be lost,

and unpretentiously carry on archetypal functions associated with shrines.’

So as we enter this time of silence I invite you to reflect on your own photographic shrines.

Perhaps you have special photos up on the wall in your home –

photos of loved ones, special memories, sacred places, natural wonders –

maybe your photos are kept on your phone and in your pocket these days, a travelling shrine –

or perhaps you rarely dig out the old photos but they are still there in your mind’s eye.

Let us meditate on those significant and sacred photos that hold special meaning for us.

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

Interlude: Her Portrait by Clara Schumann (played by Andrew Robinson)

In-Person Reading: ‘In the Present’ by Robert Walsh (read by Antony)

On a sunny day, I walked alone in a broad valley in Nepal, through an old forest with vines and moss and flowering trees and intermittent vistas of the snow-covered Himalayas. I came across a clearing in the woods, and I saw there a holy man – a monk in an orange robe, head shaved, back bent with age – chopping wood.

I had conflicting impulses. I wanted to ask him questions. What was his name? Where did he live? What was his life like? I wanted his blessing, and I wanted to give him mine. And I wanted to pass by invisibly, noiselessly, doing nothing that would disturb him.

Instead, I took out my camera and took a picture of him. I tried to be as discreet as possible about it; I waited until he was not looking in my direction. I don’t know whether he heard the sound. Then I put the camera away and moved on down the trail.

I took the picture because I wanted to hold on to that moment, because I wanted to tell you the story. Now I have a small, still, two-dimensional memento of that moment. We can look at it. It will last for a while. The actual moment completely surrounded me. It had sounds and smells and movement, and it was only real for a moment. Now it’s gone, and it will never happen again.

I moved through that experience with my attention alternating between the present moment and a future time, when I would be back home, telling the story. It’s what preachers call homiletic consciousness, which means going through life thinking, Can I use this in a sermon? But it’s not just preachers who do it. I imagine a painter would do the same. Or a poet. Or a novelist, teacher, composer, or storyteller – anyone who uses the experiences of life in order to give something to someone else.

But the more we stay in the future, thinking about telling the story, the less we are open to the power of the experience itself. The more we put a frame around the picture, the more it becomes only a picture, and not a real event. Instead of living life each day, we are busy getting ready for life.

Yet if it were not for storytellers and photographers, I would never have gone to Nepal.

So I will try to find a balance between being fully in the moment and being present to the whole of life – past, present, and future, here and there. That I may life this day today, and also tell the story tomorrow.

Sharing our Significant Photographs

Thanks Antony. Last week I asked if anyone would like to share a photo that was meaningful or significant to them and say something about how the photo speaks to them. The invitation was to share a personal photo that captures a moment in your life, a beautiful sight you’ve seen, or an artistic or journalistic photo, which has opened your eyes to seeing the world in a new way, or the sort of thing you’d see in National Geographic, that inspires a sense of wonder or amazement.

Seven of us have chosen images to share – I asked to have them in advance so we can put them up on screen – so Jeannene is going to share the slides so everyone can see what we’re talking about. I’ll go first and then we’ll call on Liz, John, Pat, Marianne, Heidi and Juliet to tell us about their photographs.

Jane: This was the photo that came to mind for me. You might remember some years ago when a book called ‘The Earth from the Air’ by Yann Arthus-Bertrand came out – around the turn of the millennium it was everywhere – the massive book was a real coffee-table classic and the large format images were also exhibited at the Natural History Museum and then toured the UK. He’d taken all these environmental images of different landscapes on earth and this was the one I found most striking – it's of a hot spring (‘Grand Prismatic Spring’) in Yellowstone National Park in the US – we often refer to the ‘pale blue dot’ image of the Earth from space as one that gives us humans perspective and which inspires awareness of the preciousness and fragility of our little planet. But these images of the earth from the air, showing it in all its local particularity, moved me more. They both celebrate the beauty and diversity of places that, in all likelihood, most of us will never see first-hand (that’s especially true for me, as for various reasons I find travel difficult, so I rely on photographers, filmmakers, and artists to bring me amazing sights of far-flung places) – such images are a record of a moment in time – the book very much had a green agenda – the photos were accompanied by a reminder that many of these habitats are at risk due to climate change and other forms of environmental degradation. It may be that some of the places he documented have already been lost in the 25 years since the book was published. So this photo is both a beautiful photo of the colours of nature and a poignant reminder of what might be lost.

(Contributions from Liz / John / Pat / Marianne / Heidi / Juliet)

Thanks all for sharing your significant photos. I imagine that most of us will have pictures of our own that came to mind this morning – perhaps you’ll get them out to have a look later today – perhaps you’ll share about them with others after the service. As the photographer Aaron Siskind once said: ‘Photography is a way of feeling, of touching, of loving. What you have caught on film is captured forever… It remembers little things, long after you have forgotten everything.’ Amen.

Hymn (on sheet): ‘All of Life is Filled with Wonder’

Let’s sing one last time. Our final hymn on your hymn sheet ‘All of Life is Filled with Wonder’. It’s to a very well-known tune so let’s sing up as best we can.

All of life is filled with wonder,

so we thank you, God of love —

For the crash of evening thunder,

clearing clouds, then stars above;

For the night that turns to glowing

as we feel the morning mist,

God, we praise and thank you, knowing

every day we're truly blessed.

For the joy of daily waking,

for the gift of each new day,

For the smell of fresh bread baking,

for the sound of children's play,

For the ways we seek to serve you

as we work and volunteer,

God we humbly praise and thank you

for your presence with us here.

For the ways we're blessed with plenty —

love and laughter, neighbours, friends,

Nature's wonders, seasons' bounty,

life in you that never ends,

For the ones who've gone before us,

giving witness to your way —

We rejoice in all you give us

every moment, every day.

For your love in times of trouble,

for your peace when things are tough,

For your help when hardships double,

for your grace that is enough,

For a stranger's gentle kindness,

for a doctor's healing skill —

God, we thank you that you bless us,

and you bless your world as well.

For your presence in our neighbours,

for your love that claims and frees.

For our talents and our labours,

for our faith communities.

For your daily great surprises —

poor ones lifted, lost ones found —

God, we thank you! Hope still rises,

as your gifts of grace abound.

Announcements:

Thanks to Jeannene for tech-hosting. Thanks to Andrew for lovely music. Thanks to Pat, Juliet and Antony for reading. Thanks to Marianne for greeting and Liz for making coffee. If you are here in-person – we’ve got carrot cake today.  

After today’s service Margaret is offering her singing class at 12.30 so do stay behind for that.

Tonight and Friday at 7pm we’ve got our ‘Heart and Soul’ online contemplative spiritual gathering – this week we’re considering ‘Becoming’ – email me if you want to join us and I’ll share the link.

Wednesday night we have the Poetry Group led by Brian – let him know if you’re planning to come.

Next month’s Better World Book Club is on ‘The Amen Effect’ by Rabbi Sharon Brous – I’ve got a few copies to lend out if you’re planning to come along – you’ve got plenty of time to read it.

We’ll be back here next Sunday and I have no idea what the service is going to be about yet!

Details of all our various activities are printed on the back of the order of service, for you to take away, and also in the Friday email.  Or if you haven’t already got one why not take home a copy of our summer newsletter? Or you could take a copy for a friend – please help us spread the word.

The congregation very much has a life beyond Sunday mornings; we encourage you to keep in touch, look out for each other, and do what you can to nurture supportive connections.

Time for our closing words and closing music now.  

Benediction: based on words by Tim Haley

We walk this earth but a brief moment in time.

Amid our suffering and pain, however great or small,

let us continue to learn how to celebrate life in all its variety.

Let us continue to grow in our capacity to love ourselves and each other.

And let us continue to move toward the goal of a better world,

a global community of peace, justice, joy and liberation for all.

Go this day in a renewed spirit of courage and hope

and with the wisdom to greet the week to come. Amen.

Closing Music: Flash, Bang, Wallop by David Heneker (played by Andrew Robinson)  

Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall

29th June 2025