What Are We Called To?

Sunday Service, 11 May 2025

Led by Rev. Stephanie Bisby

Opening Music (Menuetto - W.A. Mozart – played by Benjie and Andrew)

Opening Words 

“I shall take my voice wherever there are those who want to hear the melody of freedom or the words that might inspire hope and courage in the face of despair and fear. My weapons are peaceful, for it is only by peace that peace can be attained. The song of freedom must prevail.

Paul Robeson (#462 in Singing the Living Tradition).

Words of Welcome 

These words from Paul Robeson 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 watching or listening at a later date via YouTube or the podcast.  For anyone who doesn’t know me, I’m Stephanie Bisby, and I’m minister with Doncaster Unitarians in South Yorkshire. I’ve known your minister, Jane, for some years, first through Unitarian Summer School and then through training together at Unitarian College. It gives me great pleasure to be here with you today and to welcome you to this service. I’ve chosen some words by Kenneth Patton to describe the sort of space I hope we are creating here, together, today. 

This house is for the ingathering of nature and human nature.

It is a house of friendships, a haven in trouble, an open room for the encouragement of our struggle.

It is a house of freedom, guarding the dignity and worth of every person.

It offers a platform for the free voice, for declaring, both in times of security and danger, the full and undivided conflict of opinion.

It is a house of truth-seeking, where scientists can encourage devotion to their quest, where mystics can abide in a community of searchers.

It is a house of art, adorning its celebrations with melodies and handiworks.

It is a house of prophecy, outrunning times past and times present in visions of growth and progress.

This house is a cradle for our dreams, the workshop of our common endeavour.

Kenneth L Patton (#444 in Singing the Living Tradition).

Chalice Lighting: Who We Are Called to Be by Pat Uribe-Lichty

It’s our tradition as Unitarians to light a chalice, the symbol of our free faith, to mark our gathering and our connection with other Unitarians across the world who are doing the same. I’d like to invite [x] to light our chalice today, as I read some chalice lighting words which speak to the theme I have chosen today, the theme of calling.

Our chalice is a reminder

that in hard times,

our ancestors in faith

acted with courage

to bring hope and safety,

to bring life itself

to threatened people.

We light it today

as a reminder of who

we are called to be

in a world still dangerous

and despairing.

With courage,

and faith,

We bring ourselves

to the work before us.

First Hymn: 194P We Light the Flame

(Stephanie to introduce hymn) For those joining via zoom the words will be up on screen (as they will for all hymns). Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer; let’s sing up as best we can.

We light the flame that kindles our devotions.

We lift our hearts in blessed community.

The mind has thoughts, the heart its true emotions,

we celebrate in worship, full and free.

Our faith transcends the boundaries of oceans.

All shall be granted worth and dignity.

So many ways to witness to the wonder.

So many dreams by day for us to dare.

Yet, reaching out, each way is made the grander,

and love made bold for dreamers everywhere.

Diversity will never cast asunder

our common weal, our bonds of mutual care.

Infinite Spirit, dwell with us, we pray thee,

that we may share in life abundantly.

Forgive our sins, feed us with good bread daily,

with strength resist temptation steadfastly.

O God of life, sustain us now, and may we

with mindful hearts, be thankful constantly.

Candles of Joy and Concern 

We come now to a ritual shared by many of our Unitarian churches, including this one: candles of joy and concern, an opportunity to light a candle and bring to the community something that is in our heart or on our mind, a joy, a concern, a hope, a fear, a wish, a prayer. This is an opportunity 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. And please do come to the lectern to speak, you need to be near the microphone to ensure that you’re heard at home as well as in the room.

(in person candles)

And if that’s everyone in the room we’ll go over to the people on Zoom next – you might want 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 the many other joys and concerns that we hold in our hearts this day, which remain unspoken, but known to our own hearts and minds as they are known to the mind and heart of the universe.

(light candle)

Time of Prayer and Reflection

We remain in reflective mood now, and I invite you to take a moment to make sure you are as comfortable as possible, and to settle yourself in whatever posture helps you to feel most prayerful, if prayer is something you do, or meditative, if that’s how you to prefer to connect with whatever you hold sacred.

We begin this time of reflection with words adapted from Richard S Gilbert.

We meet on holy ground,

For that place is holy

Where lives touch, love moves, hope stirs.

How much we need these moments before the eternal,

The time to be in reverence before the ultimate,

The pause that renews,

The interlude that refreshes,

The space that gives us room to be.

We meet on holy ground,

Brought into being as life encounters life,

As personal histories merge into the communal story,

As we take on the pride and pain of our companions,

As separate selves become community.

How profound is our need for one another:

Our silent beckoning to our neighbours,

Our invitations to share life together,

Our welcome into the lives of those we meet,

And their welcome into our own.

May our souls capture this treasured time.

May our spirits celebrate our coming together

In this hour and in this space,

For we meet on holy ground.

As Richard Gilbert says, when we gather intentionally, in kindness and care for each other, in mutual respect and tolerance, we create a holy and sacred space, something much needed in today’s world, which is so full of tensions and conflicts.

So in this sacred and holy space we pray, turning now to words by the Rev. Tony McNeile:

We pray in a world fractured by violence.

We pray in sorrow that so many are pitched into a life of suffering and despair by the inhumanity of violent warfare.  

We pray for peace in a world without peace.  

We pray in sadness that there can be poverty in the midst of plenty, no matter how civilised, how advanced a society claims to be. 

We pray in a world whose climate is in the turmoil of change.    

What can we do?  

We pray to God, saying “hear our prayer”, wanting wrath to fall on the evil doers and to provide sanctuary for the afflicted. 

We pray for wonders and salvation on earth, but the heavens’ sound is empty.

And yet we know that prayer has power.

Prayer wakens the spirit of holiness in our own being. 

Prayer generates love. 

Prayer generates the light of godliness and projects it into the darkness of the world.  

Prayer comforts. 

Prayer overcomes. 

Prayer calms the excited mind.    

Prayer activates the soul and gives  warmth to the heart.   

The spirit divine we label as God is a presence in the heart.  

Cruel and chaotic as the world may be, it is not without love. 

Love that comes from the soul called by prayer.

The god we pray to dwells within every soul calling to bind up the broken and to release the dove of peace.

When we pray we create love and that love flows into the world as a healing balm. 

Let us pray for our love to be stronger and its light never to fade.

Amen

Second Hymn: 208P When our Heart is in a Holy Place

(Stephanie to introduce 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.

Reading from The Call by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

This is a story of my quest to hear and heed the call at the centre of my life, the call to live the meaning – the why – at the centre of all our lives. It is an invitation to you to turn your attention to the call at the centre of your life so that together we might begin to live consciously who and what we are and in so doing alleviate suffering in our lives and in the world and embody the deep happiness that is our birthright. The call is that consistent tug we feel at the centre of our lives to more than just continue, to know and fulfil the meaning of our lives. The call is always there, whispering in the soft places of our bodies and our hearts, in the longing that reminds us what we ache for at the deepest level.  (p4) … hearing and responding to the call to commit fully to a human life can take courage. It can split you open, especially if you have turned away from hearing it for many years, have forgotten the name of that ache in the centre of your chest. When we were young our innocence – and to some degree our ignorance – made us brave. Hearing the call, many of us set out to begin a holy pilgrimage, to make a sacred quest of our lives, to risk the unknown. We wanted to take vows to another, to God, to Truth or Beauty or Justice, or to simply being all that we knew or imagined ourselves to be. Later, after we have seen what the world can do – what we can do – it becomes harder, it requires more courage to listen and respond. We try to convince ourselves that we have no time to listen, afraid that the voice no longer calls our name, and when once again we hear the call we grieve for all the vows we have broken. And then we make simpler promises: to listen; to do the best we can today to live a human life awake.

Meditation Words 

We’re moving into a time of meditation now, and I’m going to begin by sharing a short quotation from the Quaker teacher and writer, Parker J Palmer, from his book Let Your Life Speak. Make yourself as comfortable as you can, close your eyes if you wish.

“Before you tell your life what you intend to do with it, listen for what it intends to do with you. Before you tell your life what truths and values you have decided to live up to, let your life tell you what truths you embody, what values you represent.”

These words are just an offering, so feel free to meditate in your own way, but if the words speak to you as they do to me, you may like to use the time to listen to your life, and to try to give space to the truths it may want to embody.  We’ll sit quietly for a few minutes, which will end with the sound of a bell, and that will be followed by some music for meditation.

Silence (3 min)

Musical Interlude (The Shadow of Your Smile - Johnny Mandell)

Address:

A question I’ve often been asked since I became a minister is ‘when did you first hear the call to ministry.’ And for quite a long time, being a bit of a literalist, I’d look blankly at the person asking me, or, as we say in Yorkshire, I’d look at them ‘all gone out.’ I had never heard God’s voice when I put in my application for ministry training. I’ve been a minister for nearly five years now and I still haven’t heard God’s voice. At least not literally. But I did, at some point along the way, wake up and realise that some questions aren’t meant to be heard literally.

Maybe I was fooled into taking the question literally because a lot of people in the Bible seem to hear God’s voice.

Ezekiel: The hand of the Lord was on me there, and He said to me, “Get up, go out to the plain, and there I will speak to you.”

“And the Lord came and stood, calling as at other times, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’ And Samuel said, ‘Speak, for your servant hears.'”

“the Lord used to speak to Moses face to face, just as a man speaks to his friend.”

God does not speak to me face to face, just as a man speaks to his friend. And yet somehow I found my way from a secular childhood, to church and then to ministry.

And the best way I can explain how I experienced the call is that it was a kind of magnetism, something drawing me away from the line I’d drawn on the page of my life planner, the trajectory I’d mapped out for myself. Without really meaning to, I’d find myself turning up places and reading things, and snippets of things I’d read would pop into my head at odd moments and nudge me into decisions that were quite at odds with what I’d planned for myself.

I found myself thinking about this again recently when I was asked to say a few words for the Inquirer about why I wanted to be on the Executive Committee. For anyone who hasn’t met our somewhat arcane governance structures, “The role of the Executive Committee (EC) is to work with the Chief Officer and staff team to lead and serve the Unitarian and Free Christian movement.” And the truth is I couldn’t say hand on heart that I wanted to join it. But I saw the call for applications go out, and was concerned at the downward trend over the past few years in the number of people standing, and extrapolated that trend to its conclusion, and worried about how things were going to work if once again we had a shortage of candidates, especially this year when a weird anomaly in the rules meant that the four candidates we were able to elect according to the rules wouldn’t actually be enough to make the committee quorate, necessitating a fiddly motion for constitutional amendment which, perhaps not surprisingly given Unitarians’ strong feelings about our governance, ended up generating more debate at the annual meetings than both the substantive motions put together.

So I started a campaign to nudge everyone I came into contact with who might potentially make a good EC member to apply. And then at some point along the way I realised – or maybe somebody pointed out – that if it was that important to me, I should probably consider standing myself. And, like one of those dreadful magic eye pictures that my friends and I used to hang on our walls at university, the picture quite suddenly popped into focus and I realised that was exactly what I was being called to do. And then I wondered why on earth I’d spent so long blankly staring at the squiggles and trying to make sense of them.

I’m sure there are many, many different reasons why the obvious isn’t always obvious, and I suspect that for me, one of them is my late-diagnosed neurodivergence.

Ever since I can remember, I’ve had what I thought of as a butterfly mind. Quick to land, quick to make connections,  quick to move on. Friends called me ‘creative’ and the less-than-friendly preferred ‘unreliable’ or ‘flaky’. Sometimes that was relatives, sometimes bosses or colleagues, and most often the little critic who sits on my right shoulder yelling abuse in my ear. I might not hear the voice of God, but boy do I sometimes hear the voice of my first Managing Director, we’ll call him Chris, possibly because it’s his name. Sometimes the critical voice of my late aunt or my ex-boss complaining how I never finish anything I start is a whole lot louder than any spiritual call to action I’ve ever heard. But I was in my late forties before I discovered that there was a term to describe the sort of brain that’s always chasing something new and forgetting about the thing it started last week, that has to reject seventy ideas each day before breakfast because there just aren’t that many hours in the day. It’s called ADHD, attention deficit hyperactive disorder. Some people wholly agree that it’s a deficit and a disorder while others happily claim it as a superpower, and I’ve experienced it both ways. 

I have lots of ideas, many of them good ones, but I’m also very used to ignoring my impulses because they really can’t be trusted. And so, for me, a big part of coming to the spiritual life has been learning to distinguish between a really annoying impulse and an (often equally annoying) actual call.

Two poets who have had a huge impact on my life are Mary Oliver and Oriah Mountain Dreamer. I discovered the poem ‘The Invitation’ in my early thirties and loved every word of it, but especially the lines: “It doesn't interest me / what you do for a living. / I want to know what you ache for / and if you dare to dream / of meeting your heart's longing.” At the time, I ached to be a successful novelist, and I was at least intermittently working towards that, having gained a Masters Degree in Creative Writing from Bath Spa university and then taken a succession of office admin jobs while I attempted to pen, depending on my mood, either a runaway bestselling romance or the Great British Novel. But I also felt a longing for something else I couldn’t exactly explain.

The poet Mary Oliver asks in her poem ‘The Summer’s Day’, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” And my ADHD brain responded, ‘Plan? I don’t know what you mean!’ but long after I’d answered, those other words were still rattling round in my head: ‘Wild and precious life.’  Organising meetings and databases and teas and coffees for visitors and hotel bookings for train drivers and engineers paid the bills, and at least sometimes left me enough headspace to write, but wild and precious it was not. And meanwhile I was turning up at church on Sundays, taking services and even weddings while my chapel was between ministers, and realising that all this was a lot more precious to me.

So, eventually, ministry happened. And then a minister friend was clearing out her bookcase and, remembering what a fan I was of ‘The Invitation’, asked me whether I’d like a few other Oriah Mountain Dreamer books. And so The Call landed on my bookcase, with its fantastic description of what it is to be called. For the author, as for me, it’s not a voice, but “that consistent tug we feel at the centre of our lives to more than just continue, to know and fulfil the meaning of our lives. The call is always there, whispering in the soft places of our bodies and our hearts, in the longing that reminds us what we ache for at the deepest level.”

She says that answering the call takes courage, and sometimes it does, but for me, sometimes, it’s not about bravery so much as just the recognition of an inevitability. Of course I’m meant to be a minister, to come back to Doncaster to work, or to join the EC. The call, for me, sometimes shows up like a force, like gravity – you don’t have to ask whether to fall when gravity tugs you downwards, it’s just what happens. 

Still, there are different ways of answering a call. I don’t know if anyone here plays role playing games, but if you do, or if you spend much time on the internet, you might have come across a meme which delighted me recently.

“You don’t have to be a social justice warrior.

You can be a social justice wizard (learn all you can, use what you know).

Be a social justice warlock (tap into powers greater than yourself).

Be a social justice cleric (keep the faith, heal with your words).

Be a social justice druid (respect nature, give voice to the unheard).

Be a social justice bard (inspire hope, work magic with your art).

Be a social justice rogue (move unseen, keep secrets safe).”

I’m passionate about social justice, but I’m not much of a warrior. I might shop up with a placard for half an hour if you’re holding a demo, but if it gets loud and shouty, I’m probably going home. And for a long time that made me feel like I wasn’t doing enough. But it turned out that I could actually make a difference in other ways – by talking in services about inclusion and fairness and equality, by writing to the local paper to put a particularly transphobic political candidate in his place, and by sharing stories and poems that promote understanding and inspire people to seek, and find, and share, more joy in their lives.

I don’t think I was ever called to be a social justice warrior. Not really. And I’m beginning to make peace with the fact that while some of my friends are out there getting themselves arrested, I’m more likely to be found speaking, preaching, debating and scribbling poetry. I can be a social justice cleric and a social justice bard, and that’s a perfectly good way to be.

As Parker J Palmer describes, my life has always spoken to me, if I was just willing to listen. And although I don’t have a voice like Paul Robeson, I share his ambition. “I shall take my voice wherever there are those who want to hear the melody of freedom or the words that might inspire hope and courage in the face of despair and fear.” Like him, I am drawn to peaceful weapons, and I pray every day that the “song of freedom must prevail.” And on a good day, I even find the courage, and the energy, to do something about answering its call.

Third Hymn: 181P Wake, now, my senses

(Stephanie to introduce hymn)

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.

Announcements (to be given by Liz Tuckwell – chair of congregation)

Thanks so much for Stephanie for leading our service today. Thanks to Ramona for tech-hosting and Jeannene for co-hosting. Thanks to Benjie and Andrew for our music today. Thanks to John for greeting and Pat and Anna for doing the coffee. For those of you who are here in-person – do stay behind for a chat – we have tea and coffee in the room next door (not sure if there will be cake!)

And you can come back after you’ve had your tea to do community yoga here in the church with Hannah. If you’d like to join and haven’t done so before just have a word with Hannah and fill in a health questionnaire before you start. 

Our minister Jane is on leave for a few weeks but much of our programme goes on thanks to other volunteers stepping in to cover our activities. Tonight and Friday at 7pm we’ve got our ‘Heart and Soul’ online contemplative spiritual gathering – this week we’re considering ‘Books’ – email Lochlann to sign up for tonight or Alex to sign up for Friday (their contact details are in the Friday email).

This Wednesday we will hopefully have our community singing. Do email Jane if you’re thinking of coming and you’re not already on the singing mailing list as she will let us know whether or not that’s going ahead this time around.

This month’s Better World Book Club is on ‘Reading Lessons’ by Carol Atherton and I think we have one last copy left to loan out if you’d like to join us.

Next Sunday our service will be led by Rev. Sarah Tinker. And after next week’s service we’ll have a singing class with Margaret and our regular Crafternoon.

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. I’ll hand back to Stephanie now for our closing words and music.

Benediction by Angela Maher

We are blessed with an abundance of good things,

for we which we are truly thankful – as long as we remember them. 

We are privileged with great freedom and power, for which, in return, we act with responsibility. 

We are lucky to have shared this time and space together, because we are lucky to have each other. 

May the spirit of this place, and these friends, go with us into the busy city. 

Amen

Closing Music (Sunday Jaunt - Christopher Gunning)

Rev. Stephanie Bisby

11th May 2025