Wonder

Sunday Service, 22 March 2026

Led by Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall and Dr. Azita Chellappoo

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p6YvCex1xJU

Musical Prelude: Blue Boat Home by Peter Mayer (performed by Abby Lorimier and Grace Cross)

Opening Words: ‘The Wonders That Abound’ by David Usher and Daniel Chesney Kanter

Because we are finite, we lift up our eyes

to the infinite sky, and feel wonder and awe.

Because we have stumbled, we take the tender hand

which beckons us to rise, and feel strength and reassurance.

Because we are lonely, we reach out to those

around us, and feel warmth and acceptance.

Because we are human, we do all of these things,

and in our worship, feel the presence of the divine.

To love life is to notice the wonders that abound

And to notice the wonders that abound

Is to be grounded here and now

And to be grounded here and now

Is the beginning of finding love for this life today.

Let us ground ourselves in this instant

in the worship of all things good and right. (pause)

Words of Welcome and Introduction: 

These words from David Usher and Daniel Chesney Kanter 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 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. I’ll be leading our service today with help from our own Azita Chellappoo.

This morning our service is on the theme of ‘Wonder’. This theme was inspired in large part by this book, ‘Wonderstruck’, written by Helen de Cruz who was a friend and colleague of Azita’s, and we’ll be hearing a more about their work and insights from Azita later on in the service. Wonder is such a core part of the spiritual and religious life.  As the process philosopher Alfred North Whitehead once said: 'Philosophy begins in wonder. And at the end, when philosophic thought has done its best, the wonder remains.’ And as Edward Hays wrote: 'We need to continue to cultivate a sense of wonder and awe to live our lives fully alive.’ And, please permit me one more quote, from Shaun McNiff: ‘Wonder is something we bring to the perception of the world, or perhaps the world gives this gift to us. It is a way of looking that can be applied to anything.’

Chalice Lighting: ‘In Awe and Wonder’ by Laura Dobson

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 our chalice in gratitude

for the grace of mystery

for all the times we have stood

in awe and wonder

at the depths of our inner lives

and the beauty of our outer lives

made One.

Hymn 209 (green): ‘A World Transfigured’

Our first hymn is number 209 in your green hymnbooks, an old favourite: ‘A World Transfigured’. For those joining on zoom the words will be up on screen. Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer.

Wonders still the world shall witness

Never known in days of old,

Never dreamed by ancient sages,

Howsoever free and bold.

Sons and daughters shall inherit

Wondrous arts to us unknown,

When the dawn of peace its splendour

Over all the world has thrown.  

They shall rule with wingèd freedom

Worlds of health and human good,

Worlds of commerce, worlds of science,

All made one and understood.

They shall know a world transfigured,

Which our eyes but dimly see;

They shall make its towns and woodlands

Beautiful from sea to sea.

For a spirit then shall move them

We but vaguely apprehend —

Aims magnificent and holy,

Making joy and labour friend.

Then shall bloom in song and fragrance

Harmony of thought and deed,

Fruits of peace and love and justice —

Where today we plant the seed.

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 Adam Slate  

Let’s take those joys and concerns into an extended time of prayer. This prayer is based on words by Adam Slate. 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 helps you get into the right state of body and mind for us to pray together – to be fully present – 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)

Spirit of Life, Spirit of Love,

Spirit of Hope, Spirit of Justice,

God known by many different names:

You have given us a day unique from any other.

You have connected us, all of us,

with each other and with the world,

in ways that are largely a mystery to us.

You have given us little instruction

other than to be present in our own lives,

to feel wonder at the creations of the universe,

and to love one another.

You have put gifts and challenges in our paths,

joys and sorrows, strengths and frailties,

some of which we have already encountered,

and others we have yet to discover.

On this unique day, may we receive

the blessings that we need to flourish,

and the courage we need to act in service of the Good. (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.

Reading: ‘Today’s Headline’ by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer (read by Marianne)

And then one day, while I read

aloud to my husband the news

and felt the widening hole in my heart,

he raised his hand to quiet me.

I followed his gaze out the window

to see in the yard a small fluffy thing

with black and white eyespots on its head.

A northern pygmy owl beside our door,

stout body slightly smaller than my fist.

It turned its neck a full half circle

to look at me with bright yellow eyes.

In an instant, I shifted from disgust

with the world to awe. Awe for this

fierce bespeckled miracle, this wonder

of feather and beak and claw, this

small being in the grass looking back

at me as if to say, Here is also the news.

How surprising the world can be.

How quickly, when I let it, amazement

overwrites my fear and makes

of the hole in my heart a home.

Hymn 247 (green): ‘A World of Wonder’

Let’s sing again now – our second hymn is number 247 – ‘A World of Wonder’.

The sun at high noon

The stars in dark space

The light of the moon,

On our upturned face,

The high clouds, the rain clouds,

The lark-song on high -

We gaze up in wonder

Above to the sky.  

The green grassy blade,

The grasshopper’s sound,

The creatures of shade

That live in the ground,

The dark soil, the moist soil,

Where plants spring to birth —

We look down in wonder

Below in the earth.

The glad joys that heal

The tears in our eyes,

The longings we feel,

The light of surprise,

Our night dreams, our day dreams,

Our thoughts ranging wide —

We live with a whole world

Of wonder inside.

Reading: ‘Between Wonder and Fear’ by Elizabeth Harding (read by Sonya) 

A few years ago, when we’d been married only a short time, my husband asked me what I wanted to do on our trip to Sedona, Arizona. I thought a minute and then asked, “Could we go on a hot air balloon ride?”

He made the arrangements. Once in Sedona, we got up at 5:00 a.m., saw a beautiful sunrise, and watched them ignite the inside of the balloon. We climbed in the basket with a whole bunch of strangers.

That was when I told my husband I was afraid of heights.

It was an amazing ride. We saw the red hills up close—close enough to land. We floated past tall trees and watched the sun continue on its journey. I held the basket tightly almost the entire time. The rest of the time, I held on to him. The horizon seemed to never end. It was an amazing flight.

Yesterday, I told our three-year-old son about the ride. I promised him that he could go too, once he’s old enough and tall enough to be in the basket. I realized that it would also be terrifying to take him, because I’d be worried about his safety. At the same time, I would love to watch his face: to experience his wonder as a parent.

Life is full of seesaws: it offers us moments of extreme wonder and moments of fear. There’s a choice to be made, sometimes, between the two. Sometimes, you have to live through the fear for the wonder to arrive, and sometimes they arrive separately. You have to hold on to the basket—and sometimes your loved ones—during the ride, but man, is the scenery worth every moment.

At the time we took the balloon ride, I was a hospice chaplain. Now I’m a bereavement counsellor. First with patients, and now with clients I love, the experience of death as a part of life is a seesaw I live daily. This work has transformed me: my desire for wonder overcomes the awareness of my fear, tilting the seesaw.  I choose to put more life into my years.

Elizabeth Harding concludes with a few brief words of prayer: Spirit of life and love and transformation, may we hold the moments of fear with wisdom and awareness. May they be our teachers, and open us wider in spirit. May we seek out the moments of wonder. May we open ourselves to be overcome by their possibilities, so that we too can become transformed. May it be so.

Words for Meditation: ‘The Wonder Is’ by Jaan Kaplinski

We’re moving into a time of meditation now. To take us into stillness I’m going to share words by the Estonian poet Jaan Kaplinski, called ‘The Wonder Is’, which reminds us how wonder is within reach even among the mundane and all our daily aggravations. Following this poem, we will hold a few minutes of shared silence, which will end with the sound of a bell. Then we’ll hear music for meditation from Abby and Grace. 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. As ever, these words and music are just an offering, feel free to use this time to meditate in your own way.

‘The Wonder Is’ by Jaan Kaplinski

The washing never gets done.

The furnace never gets heated.

Books never get read.

Life is never completed.

Life is like a ball which one must continually

catch and hit so that it won’t fall.

When the fence is repaired at one end,

it collapses at the other. The roof leaks,

the kitchen door won’t close,

there are cracks in the foundation,

the torn knees of children’s pants …

One can’t keep everything in mind. The wonder is

that beside all this one can notice

the spring which is so full of everything

continuing in all directions – into evening clouds,

into the redwing’s song and into every

drop of dew on every blade of grass in the meadow,

as far as the eye can see, into the dusk.

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

Interlude: The Swan by Camille Saint-Saens (performed by Abby Lorimier and Grace Cross)     

Reading: ‘Intention’ by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer (adapted) (read by Chloë)

To wonder. To wonder with no plan

for where it might lead. No strategy

for arrival. No finish line. No pot

of gold. No perfect score. No striving for.

To wonder. To wonder the way a small child

might wonder when seeing a woodlouse for the first time—

oh, look at all those legs. Look at how

it curls! Look how it moves again. Feel

how light it is in the palm. Feel how

it tickles as it moves. Imagine

an awareness that new meeting a life form that old.

Can I be that new as I meet this infinite world?

To wonder not just with my mind

but with my belly. To let every neuron

spark. To notice where there is a channel

and imagine the great wing of life

is scraping it clean so the stream might flow

in new ways. To wonder beyond the edge

of the known, and in that spaciousness, play.

Reflection: ‘Wonder’ by Dr. Azita Chellappoo

Helen de Cruz was a remarkable philosopher of mind, science, religion, and art, who I had the pleasure of connecting with through their tireless efforts to make philosophy more diverse and welcoming. Beyond their contributions to philosophy, they wrote fiction and short stories, were a talented illustrator, and played the lute. They sadly passed away last year at the age of 46, and their vibrant and infectious intellectual joy is sorely missed. That intellectual joy shines through in the last book they published, called “Wonderstruck: how wonder and awe shape the way we think”.

After Helen’s passing, I was helping organise an event in their honour, and we decided that having a symposium on this book would be the most fitting way to honour their memory. So, I sat down to read the book. I read quite a few philosophy books for work, and some are more interesting than others. But it is rare that a book gives me a new perspective not just on philosophy but on life, and stays with me long after I’ve put it down.

Wonderstruck is about the power of awe and wonder in shaping our lives – in being curious and open to the world around us, and in finding joy, hope, and meaning. Helen describes wonder as “the emotion that arises from a glimpse at the unknown terrain which lies just beyond the fringes of our current understanding”. Awe and wonder are about ‘firstness’, “seeing the familiar as wondrous or strange, as if we were encountering it for the first time”, or what Descartes called “the sudden surprise of the soul”.

The book covers the role of awe and wonder in many domains of our lives, from philosophy to psychology to science to magic, but now I’ll say a little more about the power of wonder in religion and in transforming the world.

For most of their life, Helen identified as a Christian. However, after moving to the United States, they came to feel alienated from the kinds of American Christianity they found themselves surrounded with, although not alienated from spirituality. They described themselves as ‘DIY-ing’ their own spirituality, the core of which meant charting their own path while being open-minded, valuing and learning about the views of others, a perspective which resonates with the Unitarian commitment to individual freedom to seek one’s own truth.

I’ve also had my own journey of becoming alienated from the religion that I was brought up in, going through a period where I actively stayed far away from anything religious, to then pursuing my own spiritual path and becoming a Unitarian. As I continue to figure out what religion and being religious means for me, I really like how Helen describes one aspect of religion in the book: religion “nurtures our response to enduring human needs and desires”. They write:

some religious practices are awe-technologies. They help us to kindle a sense of awe and wonder, at both our natural and our social environment. These awe-technologies transform how we see the world: due to a sustained sense of awe and wonder, we engage with the world (and with other creatures) in an altered way.

…They can help us to see the world not in flat, drab, and purely instrumental terms, but as filled with marvels, valuable for its own sake. Deep knowledge, of the kind attained by profound scientific insight or […] religious wisdom, requires that we see the world as an end, beautiful in itself.

We develop habits in how we engage with the world. This can be habits we wish we didn’t have, like scrolling social media or procrastination, or good habits we’ve worked to develop, or habits that we do every day without really thinking about it, like brushing our teeth or putting on a seatbelt. There are also habits or habitual ways of seeing the world that we might not usually think of as habits – seeing things through predetermined mental categories, which pull our attention towards some aspects and not others.

For example, I have a mug that was made by my cousin and given to me as a wedding gift. When I pick it up off the shelf in the morning to make my coffee, I can see it in a habitual or utilitarian way – just as a mug, for filling up, for getting caffeine to my brain and getting me to start work. But I can also see it in a different way – as a beautiful object, as a piece of clay that was shaped with skill and love and given as a celebration of love. Looking at this mug can make me think about family, connection, and giving.

Religious rituals or practices can be habits too. But these habits can dishabituate us – pull us out of our everyday life and everyday ways of thinking and doing and being, and therefore make us receptive to experiencing awe and wonder, to seeing the world in a new way. Rituals like saying grace before a meal can open up the mental space to appreciate different aspects of the food in front of us – seeing it not just as food for eating, but appreciating the interconnected work of humans, animals, and plants that brought it from the field to the plate, the care that went into its preparation, and the joy of sharing food with others.

Contemplative practices like quiet reflection or meditation can also make us receptive to experiencing wonder, helping us rediscover our ‘sense of firstness’ when we engage with the familiar world around us. Something I loved when I came across it in the book was Helen’s rejection of productivity – the ways in which we are pushed to be productive, and even practices like meditation become co-opted into tools for productivity. Helen writes:

Contemplative practices […] are all too often discarded as a waste of time. At best, they’re reduced to mind-hacks or productivity enhancers, divorced from their spiritual and metaphysical roots [….] It would be an impoverishment, though, to reduce contemplative practices to mere means to fulfil our role in producing work or capital.

[…] religious awe and wonder technology can be liberating. It can free us from seeing the world in certain set ways, allowing us to meet the wondrousness of the world we are part of on its own terms. Religious practices that aim at wonder afford a kind of freedom in their limitations. We don’t need to think about how meditation [or] mindfulness […] make us more productive – engaging with these practices for that reason would be contrary to their aims. Rather, in pursuing them we can begin to question the idea of productivity, and what role it plays in our collective lives.

And this leads me to another part of the book that really spoke to me – that wonder can not only help us find joy, hope, and meaning in our own lives, but can also help transform the world. Wonder can help us see the natural world not as a means or resource, but as valuable in itself. It “can give rise to a sense of being interconnected not only with our fellow human beings, but also with nature and even the universe at large.” Seeing with firstness can help us not to take social categories for granted, to question our assumptions, and to open up possibilities for change. Wonder can be a source of resilience and strength in doing the work of protecting the world around us and fighting injustice. Wonder can be an antidote to despair. Wonder is something we can cultivate in ourselves, seeking out opportunities to experience it.

I’ll finish with a final passage from Wonderstruck:

We can choose to see things with firstness, and for that we do not need to travel anywhere. You can watch the sun pour through a stained-glass window in the afternoon, dust motes falling onto a warm hardwood floor. You can observe people as they talk together quietly in a café, say their goodbyes at a train station, or rush to catch the bus, allowing you glimpses of a bigger picture of lives intertwined. These delicate social dances are atoms briefly coalescing in time, creating our everyday situations, our mundane concerns. Any connection to nature, even in a bland suburban environment, such as a hardy dandelion growing from between paving stones, affords opportunities for wonder.

[…] We can also find solace and wonder in literary fiction and visual art, not purely as a means to escape, but as a way to expand our sense of the possible and to question our reality. This kind of wonder resists resolutions or a clear teleology. It propels us to query the everydayness of our existence, and pushes us to change.

[…] The world is strange and paradoxical, but we’re mired in everydayness and so we often forget that. […] Awe and wonder can […] become catalysts that help us reclaim what makes life worth living.

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

Thanks Azita. Time for one last hymn now, it’s on your hymn sheets, and it’s to a familiar and stirring tune: ‘All of Life is Filled with Wonder’.  

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 Azita for her reflection. Thanks to Ramona for hosting and Lochlann for co-hosting. Thanks to Abby, Grace and Andrew for lovely music and Benjie for supporting our singing. Thanks to Marianne, Sonya and Chloë for reading. Thanks to Patricia for greeting and David for making coffee. If you are in-person do stay for cake (we’ve got Victoria Sponge and also Berry Lime Drizzle Cake).  If you’re online stay for a chat with Lochlann if you can. 

This afternoon from 1-3.30pm we’re holding our equinox labyrinth mini-retreat, if you haven’t already signed up we can potentially squeeze one or two more people in, you’d be welcome.

Tonight the Better World Book Club is talking about ‘Afropean: Notes from Black Europe’ – if you’re expecting to come to that and don’t yet have the link let me know – next month we’re reading ‘Finding the Mother Tree’ by Suzanne Simard and we have a few copies to lend out.

On Friday at 7pm we’ve got our online ‘Heart and Soul’ online contemplative spiritual gathering – this week it’s on the theme of ‘I Don’t Know’ – John and Pat are kindly covering that while I’m away at the Unitarian Annual Meetings so please sign up with John if you want to join on Friday.

Sonya will be here with her Nia Dance class on Friday lunchtime – have a word with Sonya.

Next Sunday our own Patricia Brewerton will be leading the service titled ‘Keep on Keeping On’. And Margaret will be here with her ‘Finding Your Voice’ singing class after that.  

And this has sneaked up on me somewhat but we’re going to have a bring-and-share lunch after the service on Easter Sunday, 5^th April, and Marianne has kindly volunteered to coordinate that. So please sign up to let Marianne know what food or drink you are planning to bring along.

And looking a bit further ahead we’ve changed the date for our next walk, that’s now going to be on Tuesday 21^st April, and we’ll be exploring Greenwich Park. Sign up with me for more details.

One last thing to mention – it’s time for existing members of the congregation to renew their membership – it’s just a simple online form to fill in to re-affirm your belonging to this church. The link is in the Friday email. And if you’re not yet a member and you’d like to join do let me know. It’s not about money – we don’t have a subscription fee – it’s about you affirming your support.

Details of all our various activities are printed on the order of service, and also in the Friday email, so sign up for our mailing list if you haven’t already done so. And the spring newsletter is out! Do take a copy.  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: ‘A Prayer Among Friends’ by John Daniel  

Among other wonders of our lives, we are alive

with one another, we live here

in the light of this unlikely world

that isn’t ours for long.

May we spend generously

the time we are given.

May we enact our responsibilities

as thoroughly as we enjoy

our pleasures. May we see with clarity,

may we seek a vision

that serves all beings, may we honour

the mystery surpassing our sight,

and may we hold in our hands

the gift of good work

and bear it forth whole, as we

were borne forth by a power we praise

to this one Earth, this homeland of all we love. Amen.

Closing Music: Pibroch by Granville Bantock (performed by Abby Lorimier and Grace Cross)    

Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall and Dr. Azita Chellappoo

22nd March 2026