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Gathering Music “Barcarolle” by Pyotr Ilych Tchaikovsky performed by Dorothy Bognar Welcome and Announcements Centering Prelude “Salut d’Amour” by Edward Elgar performed by Dorothy Bognar Chalice Lighting and Opening Words Opening Hymn #298 “Wake, Now, My Senses” Traditional Irish Melody; lyrics by Thomas J. Mikelson led by Sandy Johnson 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; honor 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 neighbor 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 will share; work toward a planet transformed by our care. Introduction to the Service Musical Meditation Our First Poet: Molly Vigeant Musical Meditation Joys and Concerns Musical Meditation Offering Continuing our practice of sharing our gifts with the community beyond our walls, fifty percent of our Sunday plate collections for the month of August will be split among area food pantries (MACC, Hockanum Valley, and East of the River Mutual Aid). Offering Music “Eighteenth Variation on a Theme of Paganini” by Sergey Rachmaninoff, arr. by H.W. Eichhorn performed by Dorothy Bognar Our Second Poet: Bill Lautenbach Musical Meditation Our Third Poet: Cory Clark Closing Hymn #118 “This Little Light of Mine” Words and music: African American spiritual led by Sandy Johnson This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine. Ev’rywhere I go, I’m gonna let it shine… Building up a world, I’m gonna let it shine… Reflections Extinguishing the Chalice Closing Circle May faith in the spirit of life And hope for the community of Earth And love of the light in each other Be ours now, and in all the days to come.

Order of Service Gathering Music – Instrumental version of “This Is America” by Childish Gamvino Welcome – David Klotz Announcements – David Centering Prelude “The Times They Are a-Changin’” by Bob Dylan. Performed by Bob Hewey and Carol Simpson. Introduction to the Service Chalice Lighting – David Welcoming Visitors – David Joys and Concerns – David Musical Interlude – “Where Have All the Flowers Gone?” by Pete Seeger. Performed by Ruth George, Kevin Gallagher, and Paula Audette. Participatory Reading – Kate Offering – David Offertory Music – “How Can You Keep on Movin’ (Unless You Migrate, Too)?” by Ry Cooder. Performed by Sandy Johnson. Readings – David Musical Interlude – “The Big Parade” by Natalie Merchant & Jerome Augustyniak. Performed by Meeting House. Closing Words – Kate Extinguishing the Chalice – David Closing Circle – David & Congregation Postlude – “What’s Goin’ On?” by Marvin Gaye. Performed by Meeting House.

OOS 07-30-2023 Gathering Music Welcome & Announcements Introduction to the Service Centering Prelude “Warm from the Oven” Improv by Mary Bopp Chalice Lighting & Opening Words Opening Hymn #175 “We Celebrate the Web of Life” Reading “Culture & Anarchy” by Adrienne Rich Reflection #1 Musical Response Joys & Concerns Reflection #2 Musical Response Offering Offertory Music “The Christians & the Pagans” (Dar Williams) Sung by Kate Howard-Bender Reflection #3 Closing Hymn #131 “Love Will Guide Us” Extinguishing the Chalice & Closing Words (Agnes Maxwell-Hall) Closing Circle

the Rev. Josh Pawelek Unitarian Universalist Society East Manchester, CT July 23, 2023 I’m going to share my reflections on the Unitarian Universalist Association’s recent General Assembly—GA; specifically my evolving impressions of the similarly evolving proposed revision of Article 2 of the UUA’s bylaws. I rarely talk about GA because its impact on local congregations is usually quite minimal. This year is different because of the proposed Article 2 revision which, if you haven’t heard, was amended five times and passed with 83.6 percent of the delegates supporting it. As a reminder, Article 2 is the section of the UUA bylaws that names the seven principles of Unitarian Universalism and the six sources of our living tradition. The proposed revision would replace the seven principles with seven values—love, interdependence, pluralism, justice, equity, generosity, and transformation, along with covenantal commitments for living each of these values in the world. The six sources would be replaced by a brief paragraph entitled “Inspirations.” Because so many of us, myself included, have built our Unitarian Universalist identity and faith around the principles and sources (originally adopted in 1985), this is a big change. This year what happened at GA definitely impacts local congregations. Thanks to Ellen Williams, Anne Carr, Jean Knapp, Rhona Cohen and Carrie Kocher, who served as delegates from our congregation. Ellen and Ann were present in Pittsburgh, as was the Rev. Jean Wahlstrom who wasn’t a UUSE delegate. Jean, Rhona and Carrie were serving as remote delegates. There are two things I love about General Assembly that have nothing directly to do with Article 2. First, in all the years I’ve been attending GA—my first was in 1992—the collection of people who gather are far more diverse than what we find in most local congregations. Yes, the majority of GA attendees are older, white, cisgender people, mostly heterosexual; but there are significant numbers of Black, Indigenous and People of Color attendees, people with disabilities, transgender and non-binary people, gay and lesbian people. There are huge numbers of youth and young adults, hair dyed in all sorts of colors, and thousands of t-shirts with a wide array of messages: spiritual, social, political, cultural, humorous, serious, etc. We often talk about building an antiracist, multicultural, beloved spiritual community in Unitarian Universalism. In my experience, GA is the closet we come to that vision. Second, worship happens every day, and the worship music is phenomenal. No shade on Mary or any other local UU music director. GA has the resources to bring amazing and diverse music leaders, choir directors, singers and instrumentalists. The music is consistently compelling and inspirational, a reason in itself to attend in person. This year we elected the Rev. Dr. Sofía Betancourt as UUA president for a six-year term. This is exciting to me. I’ve known and admired Sofia for more than 20 years since we both worked at the UUA in the early 2000s. She has experience as a parish minister, a scholar, a writer, a seminary professor and dean, a UUA department director, a UUA interim president for three months in 2017, and recently as Resident Scholar and Special Advisor on Justice and Equity at the UU Service Committee. Her three priorities campaign priorities were communal care, collaborative leadership, and “facing the unknown together.” I want to pause on communal care briefly. During a meeting with clergy she was asked why church growth wasn’t one of her priorities. She responded—I’m paraphrasing—that Unitarian Universalism, like all organized religions, is still adapting to the disruptions of the pandemic. Right now we need to prioritize love and care for one another. Congregations that know how to do this are adapting well to the disruptions and growing. Congregations that don’t do this well are struggling. I needed to hear this. I felt she was affirming our reality here at UUSE. All through the pandemic we kept saying “Community, community, community.” It doesn’t matter exactly how we do worship during lockdown, focus on community. It doesn’t matter exactly how we do religious education for children during lockdown, focus on community. Community care mattered above all else for us. I continue to believe that’s why we are coming out of the pandemic in a really healthy position. It was good to hear our new president share that same insight. My reflections on Article 2 fall into three categories: language, process, and content. Regarding language, one of the primary concerns I heard at our Article 2 forums in May was that at least some of you don’t like the way the revision is written. Malcolm Barlow summed up this critique when he referred to the revision as “mush.” What he meant by that, if I understand correctly, is that the language of the current seven principles and six sources is simple and clear. The language of the proposed seven values and their covenantal commitments is not as simple, not as clear, not as memorable, and therefore doesn’t feel as powerful. The GA delegates amended the Article 2 revision in five places, but none of the amendments address this concern about the simplicity and clarity of the language. If you didn’t like the language of the proposed revision before GA because it lacks simplicity and clarity, you will likely still feel that way when you read the amended version which will be published soon. While I still balk at some of the language in the proposed revision—and while I still wish the language could be simpler and more poetic—I acknowledge it is growing on me as I spend more time with it. Regarding process, I’m not sure anyone, including UUA leadership, was satisfied with the process. I went to GA imagining the proposed revision would look significantly different by the time the delegates voted on a final version. I understood that the UUA Board and other denominational officials had the responsibility for sifting through the hundreds of proposed amendments and narrowing them down into broad categories. But I thought delegates would have more input into the final selection of amendments to be debated. We didn’t, and I still don’t understand how we got to the final 15 amendments. I know there was an official selection process; that it involved the UUA board, the Article 2 Commission, UUA lawyers and the parliamentarian; that it took into account delegate input from three online mini-assemblies in May; and that it was bylaw-driven, i.e., it was legal. I take our leaders at face value when they tell us this. I trust our leaders. I’m just not clear how they made their decisions about which amendments would be debated. I would have appreciated a more detailed explanation. One thing is apparent: they heard loudly and clearly that a significant number of delegates wanted a chance to vote on re-inserting the seven principles and the six sources into the Article 2 revision. Both of those amendments were included in the final set of 15. Both lost by significant margins. And this brings me to content. Even though I don’t love all the language of the revision; even though I didn’t love the process that led to the final version; I voted for it. I didn’t vote for it, as I some did, for the sake of keeping the conversation going for another year. I voted for it because I feel strongly that its content is the right content for Unitarian Universalism at this moment in our history. When I began my ministry in the late 1990s, I was concerned that Unitarian Universalism put too much emphasis on the individual and individuality, and not enough emphasis on community and the relational dimensions of our lives. I was trained to understand Unitarian Universalism as a covenantal faith, meaning that as we join together in spiritual community, we make commitments to each other, we make promises to each other, we are accountable to each other, we are obligated to care for each other. These things are central to our centuries-old tradition, and central to the practice of our faith today. Yes, we celebrate each individual’s uniqueness, gifts, creativity, experience and wisdom—that will not change. But we do that best in the embrace of a strong, healthy, vibrant community. I have been preaching some version of this message my entire career. The proposed Article 2 revision, in articulating—however poorly—our covenantal commitments to each other—by putting the emphasis on covenant—not only reclaims this essential part of our tradition (which was de-emphasized for much of the 20th century), but positions us to remain strong, vibrant and cohesive in the coming years which, we can predict, will be chaotic. This emphasis on covenant is an explicit reminder that our faith is more than a collection of unique individuals, that our faith gains power from the relational dimension of our lives; and that we are called to tend and nurture relationships within our congregations, among our congregations, with our friends and partners in the wider community, and with the Earth and all its creatures. I welcome the Article 2 revision’s emphasis on covenant. During Ministry Days prior to GA, the Rev. Ceclia Kingman delivered the latest Barry Street Essay, a long-standing, prestigious address to clergy. Her essay, “My Little Pony Was Right: Reflections on Fascisms Without and Within,” was a chilling report on the rise of fascism in the United States and a humbling reminder that here in little, blue, coastal Connecticut we are shielded from the worst manifestations of fascist trends in our nation. One of Rev. Kingman’s responders was the Rev. Elizabeth Stephens, minister of the UU Church of the Palouse in Moscow, Idaho. Rev. Stephens described her remarks as “a dispatch from behind enemy lines.” She said that at this point the state of Idaho is essentially under the control of fascist extremists. She talked about the criminalization of abortion, the criminalization of gender affirming care, legislative attacks on funding for anti-bullying programs, on libraries, on health care workers, on university faculties, and more. Idaho is also home to more right wing militias than any other state. She described one of their neighbors as a Dominionist cult. Their church, I’m sure, is a lot like our church. Moscow, ID, I’m sure, is a lot like Manchester, CT. But the social and political context is radically different. As she described the white truck that stalked her for weeks after she led the local women’s march, I feared for her life; and then wondered, could I do ministry there? Would I have the courage to say out loud in Idaho the things I say out loud in Connecticut? The proposed revision to Article 2 highlights and appropriately balances a tension in Unitarian Universalism between liberal religion and liberationist religion. If I may generalize, liberal religion supports the individual’s free and responsible spiritual search, interacts with the larger culture, takes seriously the results of scientific inquiry, promotes religious pluralism, and stays open to the emergence of new truths. Liberationist religion critiques power structures, challenges oppression, works for justice for all people. Since the founding of the Unitarian Universalist Association in 1961, UUs have been comfortable identifying as a liberal religion, less comfortable as a liberationist religion, though the latter is part of our spiritual inheritance. When I hear Rev. Stephen’s description of the social and political context in which she is doing ministry; and when I hear again and again from UUs and non-UUs here and around the country who are people of color, black, indigenous, gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender and non-binary, immigrants, non-Christian religious minorities, people with disabilities, and women about how extremist powers are slowly chipping away at their rights, their freedoms, their well-being, their mental health, their sense of safety, their community cohesion, I realize we need not only the bedrock of our liberal religious heritage, which is clearly articulated in the Article 2 revision; we also need a clear call to ministries of liberation. In my view, the proposed Article 2 revision gets the balance right. It does not signify, as some critics allege, a pivot to more social justice work, which by itself would be an evasion of both the liberal and liberationist traditions. Rather, it positions Unitarian Universalism as both a liberal and liberating faith able to minister with inclusive, caring and courageous love in a context of rising fascism and climate catastrophe in the United States and globally. For me, such ministry includes opportunities for rest and renewal, prayer and study, grieving and mourning, individual and collective spiritual practice, cultural celebration and exploration, remembering and honoring ancestors, artistry and creativity, nurturing resilience, practicing communal care and deepening relationships within the embrace of our sacred covenants however imperfectly articulated they may be. And love lives at the center. I preached in February on my great joy that the Article 2 revision puts love at the center of Unitarian Universalism. That joy has deepened since GA. Whether we’re talking about community care, confronting fascism, teaching religious education to kids, supporting immigrant families, ensuring everyone gets to share their point of view at the book discussion, promoting progressive legislation with the interfaith coalition, welcoming visitors on Sunday morning, or offering a safe place for people to be their whole and true selves, love is what enables the liberal and the liberation traditions to succeed as religious traditions. The love with which we engage matters. The love with which we speak matters. The love that guides us matters. And it matters that Article 2 locates that love at the heart of Unitarian Universalism. Amen and blessed be.

Gathering Music (Mary Bopp) Welcome and Announcements Centering Prelude Chalice Lighting and Opening Words “Prayer for Artists and Creatives” by Atena O. Danner Opening Hymn #182 “O, the Beauty in a Life” words based on text by Bishop Toribio Quimada music: traditional Visayan (Filipino) folk tune. O, the beauty in a life that illumines honor anew, that models wise and gracious ways to every seeker; that every day shall serve in joy and do the right. O, praise the life whose beauty shows a justice true. Let not service of the good be confined to great saints alone, but every hour be part of all our daily living. Set not the hope of wisdom’s grace beyond our ken; how wide the path, how close the goal, which love has shown. O, the beauty of a life that illumines care of the soul, that knows a love that is for self as well as others, that every day embodies praise for every good, this is the faith to which we turn, our God and goal. Meditation “Wade in the Water” by Sofía Betancourt Musical Meditation (Musical Meditation) Joys and Concerns Offering Continuing our practice of sharing our gifts with the community beyond our walls, fifty percent of our Sunday plate collections for the month of July will be split among MACC Food Pantry, Hockanum Valley Food Pantry, CT Mutual Aid East of River Food Pantry. Offering Music Sermon “Emphasis on Covenant” by Rev. Josh Pawelek Closing Hymn #34 “Though I May Speak with Bravest Fire” Words: Hal Hopson, based on 1 Corinthians 13:1-3 Music: traditional English melody Though I may speak with bravest fire, and have the gift to all inspire, and have not love, my words are vain as sounding brass and hopeless gain. Though I may give all I possess, and striving so my love profess, but not be given by love within, the profit soon turns strangely thin. Come, Spirit, come, our hearts control, our spirits long to be made whole. Let inward love guide every deed; by this we worship, and are freed. Extinguishing the Chalice Closing Circle May faith in the spirit of life And hope for the community of Earth And love of the light in each other Be ours now, and in all the days to come.

Order of Service July 16, 2023 “Among the Trees” Gathering Music Welcome and Announcements Centering Prelude “Methuselah” By Mary Bopp Chalice Lighting Opening Words: Excerpt from “The Overstory” by Richard Powers For there is hope of a tree, if it goes down, that it will sprout again, and that its tender branches will not cease. Though the root grows in the earth, And the stock dies in the ground, at the scent of water it will bud, and bring forth boughs. Opening Song “Standing Like a Tree” Plum Village Song Musicians: Mary Bopp, piano and Jeannine Westbrook, vocals Standing like a tree With my roots dug down My branches wide and open Come down the rain Come down the sun Come down the fruit to a heart that is open to be Standing like a tree Reading: “When I am Among the Trees” by Mary Oliver When I am among the trees, especially the willows and the honey locust, equally the beech, the oaks and the pines, they give off such hints of gladness. I would almost say that they save me, and daily. I am so distant from the hope of myself, in which I have goodness, and discernment, and never hurry through the world but walk slowly, and bow often. Around me the trees stir in their leaves and call out, “Stay awhile.” The light flows from their branches. And they call again, “It's simple,” they say, “and you too have come into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine.” Guided Meditation: Lynn Dove Reading: George Jacobi, untitled, 2023, from the Joshua Trust newsletter Musical Interlude Joys and Concerns Musical Interlude Offering Offering Music “The Loveliest of Trees” By John Duke Musicians: Mary Bopp, piano and Jeannine Westbrook, vocals Introduction of the Speakers 1st Speaker: Emery Gluck Musical Interlude 2nd Speaker: John Hankins Closing Hymn #21 “For the Beauty of the Earth” Words: Folliott Sandford Pierpoint Music: Conrad Kocher For the beauty of the earth, for the splendor of the skies, for the love which from our birth over and around us lies: Source of all, to thee we raise this, our hymn of grateful praise. For the joy of ear and eye, for the heart and mind’s delight, for the mystic harmony linking sense to sound and sight: Source of all, to thee we raise this, our hymn of grateful praise. For the wonder of each hour of the day and of the night, hill and vale and tree and flower, sun and moon and stars of light: Source of all, to thee we raise this, our hymn of grateful praise. For the joy of human care, sister, brother, parent, child, for the kinship we all share, for all gentle thoughts and mild: Source of all, to thee we raise this, our hymn of grateful praise. Extinguishing the Chalice Closing Circle

Order of Service Gathering Music: Welcome & Announcements: Prelude: Morning Has Broken, by Pg. 38 in Hymnal Chalice Lighting: Be Ours a Religion by Theodore Parker Introduction to Service Opening Song: Waiting for my Life to Begin by Colin Hay Joys and Concerns Musical Meditation Offering: Offering Music: Don’t Stop by Fleetwood Mac Reflection 1: Job Expectations Musical Meditation Reflection 2: Dog Gone It Closing Hymn: Just as Long as I Have Breath, Pg. 6 in Hymnal Extinguish Chalice Special Thanks Closing Words

Gathering Music – Mary Bopp Welcome & Announcements Prelude: “Song of the Soul” (Cris Williamson) performed by Janet Fall Centering Chalice Lighting & Opening Words “Affirmation” by Leonard Mason We affirm the unfailing renewal of life. Rising from the earth, and reaching for the sun, all living creatures shall fulfill themselves. We affirm the steady growth of human companionship. Rising from ancient cradles and reaching for the stars, people the world over shall seek the ways of understanding. We affirm a continuing hop That out of every tragedy the spirits of individuals shall rise to build a better world. Opening Hymn #38 “Morning Has Broken” Morning has broken like the first morning, Blackbird has spoken like the first bird. Praise for the singing! Praise for the morning! Praise for them springing fresh from the Word! Sweet the rain’s new fall sunlit from heaven, Like the first dewfall on the first grass. Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden, Sprung in completeness where God’s feet pass. Mine is the sunlight! Mine is the morning Born of the one light Eden saw play! Praise with elation, praise every morning God’s recreation of the new day! Joys & Concerns Reading “Why Freedom is Important” In 1775, Patrick Henry saw the war with England coming and he delivered an eloquent speech at the Second Virginia Convention in favor of raising a militia. With grand oratory, but oblivious to the irony, he said “There is no retreat except into the chains of slavery.” Henry owned dozens of slaves, yet he declared that he himself would never succumb to being a slave to King George, delivering the famous line: “Give me liberty or give me death!” What makes freedom so important that people die for it? The writer Emmaline Soken-Huberty offers ten reasons. Freedom means freedom of expression. We can speak our minds, but we can also express ourselves non-verbally, in art or movement. Hate speech is generally not considered a protected speech. Freedom means we can practice any religion or none at all. Freedom means a free press, including radio, TV, and the internet. We are free to vote, thereby protecting democracy. Although there is still prejudice, we are free to love who we want. We are still fighting for the freedom to be in charge of our own bodies, whether it’s the “right to choose” or to come out as LGBTQ. Freedom isn’t only about what you can do; it’s about what you’re protected from: things like slavery, discrimination, and harassment. Freedom is linked to happiness. Not all freedoms are equal. Of 38 nations surveyed in a Pew study, Americans valued free speech, freedom of the press, and the right to use the internet more than other countries did. Freedom evolves over time. In the early United States, most people didn’t believe “freedom” applied to everyone. It was limited to white, land-owning men. Things are different today, even as we continue to pursue full equality for all. Freedom is political. For centuries, people have twisted the meaning of freedom to serve their political interests. Freedom for abolitionists and feminists is very different from freedom for capitalists and corporations. When listening to politicians, we need to ask, “Whose freedom are they protecting?” Each freedom is charged with such deeply felt emotions that, like Patrick Henry, people have risked and will always continue to risk their lives for liberty. Offering Offertory Music: “Born Free” (John Barry) Mary Bopp Reading “The Way of the Explorer” (Edgar Mitchell) While on a lunar expedition in 1971, astronaut Edgar Mitchell had a transcendent experience while looking back at Earth from space. It came upon him unbidden, with warning, and shook him to his core. In his memoir “The Way of the Explorer”, he describes it like this: “Looking beyond the Earth itself to the magnificence of the larger scene, there was a startling recognition that the nature of the universe was not as I had been taught. My understanding of the separate distinctness and the relative independence of movement of these cosmic bodies was shattered. Seeing this blue and white planet floating there, seeing our sun setting in the background of the very deep black, velvety cosmos, I knew for sure in my gut that there was a purposefulness that was beyond man’s rational ability to understand. Here suddenly was a non-rational way of understanding that had been beyond my previous experience. Gazing through 240,000 miles toward the planet from which I had come, I suddenly experienced the universe as intelligent, loving, and harmonious.” He came home to Earth determined to live life to the fullest, to acquire more knowledge and to abandon the economic treadmill. He did this primarily by founding the Institute of Noetic Science for the study of consciousness and other related phenomena. Of his experience in space, he said further: “You develop an instant global consciousness, a people orientation, an intense dissatisfaction with the state of the world and a compulsion to do something about it. From out there on the moon…politics looks so petty. You want to grab a politician by the scruff of the neck and drag him a quarter of a million miles out and say, ‘Look at that you son of a bitch.’” Sermon: “Let Freedom Ring” Judy Robbins, Guest Speaker from the Unitarian Society of Hartford Closing Hymn: “Everybody Ought to Know” (Sweet Honey in the Rock) led by Janet Fall Verse 1: Everybody ought to know Everybody ought to know Everybody ought to know Everybody ought to know Everybody ought to know What freedom is What freedom is Verse 2: Everybody ought to know Everybody ought to know Everybody ought to know Everybody ought to know Everybody ought to know What justice is What justice is Verse 3: Everybody ought to know Everybody ought to know Everybody ought to know Everybody ought to know Everybody ought to know What friendship is What friendship is Verse 4: Everybody ought to know Everybody ought to know Everybody ought to know Everybody ought to know Everybody ought to know What happiness is What happiness is Verse 5: Well, everybody ought to know Everybody ought to know Everybody ought to know Everybody ought to know Everybody ought to know What freedom is What freedom is Extinguishing the Chalice & Closing Words: “The Heart Knoweth” (Ralph Waldo Emerson) We have a great deal more kindness than is ever spoken. The whole human family is bathed with an element of love like a fine ether. How many persons we meet in houses, whom we scarcely speak to, whom yet we honor and who honor us! How many we see in the street, or sit with in church who though silently, we warmly rejoice to be with! Read the language of these wandering eye beams. The heart knoweth. Closing Circle After service conversation: Facilitated by Christina Bailey

05/14/23 by Joshua Pawelek I call this sermon “Spiraling.” Spirals are common in nature—the DNA double helix, the fiddlehead fern, the whorl of our fingerprints, the nautilus shell, hurricanes, whirlpools, galaxies. As such they can serve as metaphors for our all the ways we grow, including the ways we grow spiritually. I often say that our lives, including our spiritual lives, move in circles; yet it is more accurate to say our lives spiral. Because are always gaining more experience, whenever we come around to where we’ve been before, we never arrive at exactly the same place. Or we never experience the place in exactly the same way. We’ve grown. Maybe we’re more knowledgeable, more adept, more practiced, more skilled. Perhaps we’re more content, more at peace; perhaps we’re more sad or agitated. As the pagan writer and activist Starhawk says, “a spiral is a dynamic form of a circle. It comes back on itself, but always with a difference. It moves somewhere.”[1] I believe the early 20th-century Unitarian-turned-Anglican poet and playwright, T.S. Eliot, was pointing toward this when he wrote: “We shall not cease from exploration / and the end of all our exploring / will be to arrive where we started / and know the place for the first time.”[2] We come back to where we were, but there’s a difference. Spiraling is a way to talk about how we grow. Before I say more, I want to thank Ted and Nancy Pappas for purchasing this sermon at last year’s UUS:E Goods and Services Auction. He and Nancy sent me some articles, which I will link to in the online version of this sermon.[3] I have a number of takeaways from these articles: First, spirals as ubiquitous in nature from the micro to the macro to the galactic: the path of an insect approaching a light source, sunflowers, the flight of a hawk approaching its prey, the snake’s coil, the Milky Way. Second, the spiral was a sacred and multifaceted symbol for many ancient cultures and religions. While we can’t know for sure what spirals symbolized five thousand years ago, most scholars of ancient religion suggest that they referred to rebirth, regeneration, growth and change. Third, in ancient cultures the spiral is clearly associated with women and with goddesses, specifically mother goddesses. An article on the website Learn Religions says that “because of its connection with mother goddesses, the spiral is a feminine symbol, representing not only women but also a variety of things traditionally associated with women … lifecycles, fertility … childbirth and intuition.”[4] Fourth, spirals appear in both sacred and secular architecture, from the Greek Parthenon, to the Great Mosque of Samarra in Iraq, to the Vatican Museum’s spiral staircase, to a newly constructed, 1,000 foot skyscraper at 66 Hudson Blvd. in Manhattan known as “The Spiral.” Finally, the articles discuss the mathematics of spirals, the place of spirals in the sacred geometry of ancient Greece, for example, or the Fibonacci number sequence which produces a spiral when graphed. Starhawk describes the Fibonacci sequence as a “formula that says, ‘What is, plus what was, is what will be.’”[5] 2 + 1 = 3. What is, 2, plus what was, 1, is what will be, 3. And then it grows. 3+2= 5; 5+3 = 8; 8+5 = 13, and on and on. What is, plus what was, is what will be. Not a repeating circle but growth spiraling infinitely. In the words of poet Suzy Kassem, Circles / Of life … / Spiraling / Outwards / For / Infinity.[6] In the words of poet, Jewell Miller, My soul, on its journey, … / by a spiral staircase / Seeks its path to the stars.[7] So, as a common natural phenomenon, an ancient religious symbol of rebirth associated with women, a representation of the Goddess, an architectural feature, a mathematical formula, how might the spiral relate to Unitarian Universalist spirituality? This was Ted and Nancy’s question. My response is this notion of “spiraling.” I realize you may be experiencing some dissonance. If we say someone is spiraling, we typically mean they are losing control, losing their grip on reality, descending into greater and greater dysfunction. We often speak of a “downward spiral.” In the second verse of our opening hymn, Dear Weaver of Our Lives’ Design, we appeal to the weaver to “take up the fabric of our lives … and mend our rav’ling souls.”[8] We might say one who is spiraling is unraveling. This is how we commonly use the term. The downward spiral, especially when we use it as shorthand for active mental illness, is real, painful, and scary. I don’t want to lose sight of that. However, I’m mindful that our lives are also always naturally spiraling. They don’t shoot off in a straight line, a rocket into space. They turn with the days, the seasons, the years. They rotate, revolve and process with the Earth as it spirals around the galaxy. We cycle through the stages of our lives, aging through generations, through time. We’re always returning, but never quite to where we were before. What is, plus what was, is what will be. We’re spiraling. My oldest child just turned 21. My life is not quite the same. What is, plus what was, is what will be. My father-in-law died this year. My life is not quite the same. What is, plus what was, is what will be. I graduated from college. I went back to work after a leave of absence. I moved into a new home. I down-sized. I got married. I got divorced. I retired. My life is not quite the same. What is, plus what was, is what will be. I’m growing. We circle back around to the same place, but it’s never quite the same place. We’re spiraling. Recognizing how today is different from the same day last year or a decade ago or fifty years ago can bring intense emotions. Contemplate for a moment a place you lived during your childhood. Visualize that place, how it appeared from the street, how it felt inside, how it smelled. Who were you then? Who were the people in your life? Who are you now? Where are those people? What was lives on in you. It mixes with what is to produce what will be. That’s what I mean when I say our lives spiral. A spiral pattern created by Ellen Castaldini’s mother Spirals have energy. They turn, they spin, they whirl, they flow. Even when depicted in art, when they are essentially static, etched onto a cave wall or a piece of pottery, sculpted on ancient megaliths or captured on canvas, spirals have motion and power. There is similar energy in the spirals of our lives. One way to understand this energy is to think about the difference between who I was the last time I was here vs. who I am now that I’ve returned. How am I different? What accounts for the difference? What happened to create it? Some movement has happened in me or around me; some power was been exercised, either by me or by some force beyond me. Some energy has been expended. Here’s my question: Are we aware of that energy at work as we spiral? Do we take time to reflect on it? Do we learn from it? Is that energy just carrying us along (which is inevitable if we’re not paying attention); or can we somehow carry it, harness it for the sake of our growth? Starhawk features prominently in my thinking about how we might access the energy of spirals. One of her more famous books is The Spiral Dance, first published in 1979, about neopagan beliefs and practices. It’s been 30 years since I read The Spiral Dance. I have it somewhere but couldn’t find it. I don’t remember what she says in that book about the actual dance. But some of you will remember Starhawk lectured and led a spiral dance here at UUS:E on March 7th, 2013.[9] Despite a raging snowstorm, about 80 people attended, travelling from all across southern New England and eastern New York. The spiral dance is a communal ritual, a modern form of magic, designed to harness the energy of a group. In another of her books, The Earth Path: Grounding Your Spirit in the Rhythms of Nature, Starhawk says, “In the spiral dance, we coil in on ourselves, then turn outward to face each person in the group as we pass. When we wind the spiral in, we concentrate energy, eventually releasing it as an upward-spiraling cone of power.” I remember this from our time with her, the whole group moving in toward the center at the end of the dance, raising arms skyward. “In the northern hemisphere,” she says, “the sun moves clockwise across the sky, and water forms a clockwise vortex when it drains down a hole. When we raise power for a positive end, to draw in energies and resources or to create something, we [dance] in a clockwise or sunwise direction.”[10] That’s what we did when she was with us—we danced clockwise. But you can dance in the other direction to harness energy for other purposes. “When we want to release or undo something,” she says, “we move widdershins, or counterclockwise.”[11] The spiral dance ritual harnesses the group’s energy to achieve some purpose, either to create something or to release something. We can understand this theologically. The spiral is an ancient symbol of the Goddess, of feminine divinity, which is one and the same with the Earth or Gaia, to use her ancient Greek name. The spiral dance evokes the goddess. Its energy is her energy. The spiral dance also evokes all the ways spirals occur in Nature. Its energy is that of the coiled snake, the soaring hawk, the river vortex, the twisting tree trunk, the whirlwind, the hurricane, all of which is also the energy of the Goddess. Its motion is the motion of stars around the centers of galaxies, all of which is the motion of the Goddess. I say our lives spiral because as we return to the places we’ve been before, whether in space or in time, we’re never quite the same. Some energy is at work, is flowing, is swirling. There’s a difference. There’s been movement. My child turned 21, my father-in-law died. What is, plus what was, is what I am becoming. Can we give ourselves the space and time to peer below the surface, to let ourselves recognize that in our spiraling we are in fact moving with the rhythms of nature, with Gaia’s patterns? Can we recognize that our Fibonacci 3+5 = 8 is akin to the 3+5 = 8 of the nautilus shell, the fiddlehead fern, the butterfly’s proboscis, the mouse curling in on itself to stay warm while sleeping, the insect approaching light, the lizard’s tail, the tidal whirlpool, the ram’s horn? It’s the same pattern. Can we recognize that the energy at the heart of our spiraling is the same energy at the heart of all nature’s spirals, is the same energy of the Goddess which the ancients represented in spirals on cave walls, baskets, figurines, pottery and ancient tombs? Can we recognize that life spirals unceasingly, and that we are inescapably part of it? Can we recognize, as the poet suggests, that the circles of our lives spiral outwards for infinity. Can we recognize, as the poet suggests, that our souls, on their journeys, seek their paths to the stars, by a spiral staircase? The late, radical feminist theologian, Mary Daly, once defined spiraling as “swirling movement … in harmony with the rhythms of whirlwinds, whirlpools and … galaxies.”[12] For her, spiraling is a practice or a way of being in the world that puts people in touch with Being—her term for divinity, Goddess, Gaia, what she also called Ultimate/Intimate Reality. We are spiraling. The question is do we know it? And as we come to know it, can we harness the energy to release what needs release, and to create what is good and meaningful in the world? Amen and blessed be. [1] Starhawk, The Earth Path: Grounding Your Spirit in the Rhythms of Nature (New York: Harper One, 2005) p. 191. [2] Eliot, T.S., excerpt from The Four Quartets, in Singing the Living Tradition (Boston: UUA and Beacon Press, 1993) #685. [3] Woolfe, Sam “Why Do Spirals Exist Everywhere in Nature,” May 30, 2014 (blog post): https://www.samwoolfe.com/2014/05/spirals-everywhere.html. Beyer, Catherine, “Ancient Spirals,” May 4th, 2018 (on the Learn Religions website): https://www.learnreligions.com/spirals-95990. D’Silva, Beverly, “Ancient Symbols that Still Resonate Today,” March 20, 2022 (on the BBC’s “The Collection” website): https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20220318-the-ancient-enigma-that-still-resonates-today. [4] Beyer, Catherine, “Ancient Spirals,” May 4th, 2018 (on the Learn Religions website): https://www.learnreligions.com/spirals-95990. [5] Starhawk, The Earth Path, p, 192. [6] Kassem, Suzy, “Circles of Life.” See: https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/circles-of-life-2/. [7] Miller, Jewell, “Spirals.” See: https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/spirals-4/. [8] Dorian, Nancy, “Dear Weaver of Our Lives’ Design,” in Singing the Living Tradition (Boston: UUA and Beacon Press, 1993) #22. [9] Fine, Pam, “Earth Spirit, Earth Justice, Talk by Starhawk,” in the Patch, Feb. 13, 2013. See https://patch.com/connecticut/manchester/ev–earth-spirit-earth-justice-talk-by-skyhawk. [10] Starhawk, The Earth Path: Grounding Your Spirit in the Rhythms of Nature (New York: Harper One, 2005) p. 192. [11] Ibid. [12] Daly, Mary, Websters’ First Intergalactic Wickedary of the English Language (Boston: Beason Press, 1987) p. 167.

04/30/23 “How precious it is to be together in spiritual community. How precious it is to learn what is on each other’s hearts and minds; to hold and care for each other in times of sorrow and grief; to smile, clap and cheer for each other in times of joy and success. How precious it is to be reminded: each of our lives tells a story worth knowing, each of our lives harbors deep and abiding truths, each of our lives is sacred; and then to know by extension—to know, to trust, to believe—all life is sacred. All life is sacred.”[1] Familiar words to the members and friends of this congregation—words I’ve developed over the last 20 years, words I say every Sunday I’m in this pulpit, words I would miss if I did not say them, words that land on a uniquely challenging, even unsettling notion: all life is sacred. I suspect you typically don’t feel challenged or unsettled when you hear these words. I suspect you typically experience these words as a kind of affirmation: yes, of course all life is sacred, all life has value, all life carries a divine spark. That’s what we believe. That’s what we mean when we talk about the interdependent web. That’s what we mean when we talk about universalism. All life. As I say these words, I don’t typically feel challenged or unsettled. I say them as an affirmation, not a challenge. I say them with the intent to calm, to sooth, not to unsettle. Yet I am keenly aware there is a challenging and even unsettling question waiting in their wake. If all life is sacred, how shall we live? For me this question has always been central to Unitarian Universalism. Ours is not a faith focused on life after death, on future rewards and punishments. Ours is not a faith filled with elaborate metaphysics. Our Unitarian Universalist faith is primarily—not exclusively, but primarily—focused on this life, a faith for here, a faith for now. We’re concerned less with the question, “What shall we believe?” and more with how we shall live. I sense it is true for most people—I know it is true for me—that as we take stock of our living, our day-to-day routines and patterns, our eating, our spending, our decision-making, how we pass our time—when we genuinely reflect, examine, probe our living—we find we’re not always living as if all life is sacred. We believe it, but the belief hasn’t changed our lives. A simple (though actually quite daunting) example: we know greenhouse gasses contribute to the climate crisis, yet we still drive cars that produce greenhouse gasses. Our living doesn’t always—and sometimes can’t—align with our most deeply held values. So what would it mean to more intentionally let this belief challenge and unsettle us, to ask the question more regularly and forthrightly, “how shall we live?” Credit where credit is due: Julia Caruk purchased this sermon at last year’s Goods and Services Auction. When she and I started talking about this service, she said, essentially, that she was struggling with this notion that all life is sacred—not with whether or not it is true, but with how to respond. If the lives of not only humans, but animals, fish, insects, trees are sacred, how can we honor that sacredness with our life choices? She recognized that our living does at times cause harm. In fact, causing some harm is unavoidable. So how can we minimize that harm? She recognized that the natural world provides some guidance, yet in the natural world there is considerable violence and killing. Creatures survive by eating other creatures. One can’t witness this violence and easily draw the conclusion that nature respects all life, or that nature regards all life as sacred, at least not in the ways human beings typically define concepts like ‘respect’ and ‘sacred.’ Witnessing nature informs us that “How shall we live?” is not an easy question to answer. Exploring the question is a trek through trade-offs, compromises, gray areas, temporary answers, a lot of unknowns, and doing our best to do the least amount of harm. This is my understanding of the tension that lives at the heart of Julia’s struggle. I think we all live with this tension, but we don’t always call the question. We don’t always let our belief in the sacredness of all life challenge and unsettle us. Thank you Julia, for inviting us to consider this question this morning. Thanks for purchasing this sermon. I remind all of you that at least one sermon, possibly two, will be up for bid at the Goods and Services auction scheduled for next Saturday at 2:00 PM. We hope to see you there! I asked Julia to share with me her answers to the question. If all life is sacred, how shall we live? I want to share her answers with you. One caveat: though she thought deeply about her response, I’m not sure she was completely satisfied with it. But given all the grey areas, the complexities, the reality of the food chain, I’m pretty sure complete satisfaction is impossible. Most of our responses to this question will be contingent and will evolve as we gain new learning, insights and awareness. About her response Julia said “the more I think about it, the more I feel that empathy is really the key: always striving to learn to see different perspectives.” I note her emphasis on “always striving.” This is an ongoing question in our lives, whether we ask it or not. It never leaves us. We are always striving, not to find final answers, but to find the endlessly evolving best answers given the realities of our lives. Julia divided her response into two categories: “Activism” and “Daily Choices/Lifestyle.” Underlying her activism, she says, is the belief “that other beings exist for their own reasons and not to provide anything for me.” Activism means “Standing up for social justice,” which for Julia includes: women’s rights, civil rights, immigrant rights, animal rights. There are many ways to pursue activism. Julia identifies voting and being politically active and informed; learning true history rather than white-washed history; consuming media written by and centering women, people of color and and LGBTQIA people; going to demonstrations; and donating money (with a focus on women, people of color, and LGBTQIA-led organizations). For daily choices and lifestyle, Julia’s list is extensive. She’s looking for the ways her life intersects with non-human life and asking, given the sacredness of this non-human life, how can I live in a way that causes the least amount of harm? In those words I spoke at the beginning of the service from the naturalist Sy Montgomery, her tool of inquiry is not just her intellect, but her heart. First, Being Vegan. Not eating anything that came from an animal. Buying toiletries that were not tested on animals and do not contain animal ingredients. Not wearing fur, leather, wool, down, angora, or any other animal skin, feathers, or fur. Related to veganism, she adds avoiding palm oil and purchasing fair trade coffee, chocolate, and bananas. Second, Caring for the Planet. Installing solar panels and heat pumps. Driving a hybrid car. Reducing plastic use and overall consumption. Joining the UUS:E Sustainable Living Committee and co-leading an environmental group at work. Mowing as little as possible and not using chemicals on my property. Making my property wildlife friendly. Third, Adopting Rescue Animals. Never buying a pet and rescuing as many as possible. She says, “I spay and neuter them, but not without qualms about how this violates their rights. I try to see the world from their perspective to make their life as good as possible.” Fourth, Rethinking “Pests.” Are they invading my space or did I invade theirs? Not killing critters in my house or on my property. Taking bugs outside rather than killing them. Note: I make exceptions for blood suckers like ticks, fleas, and mosquitos, but not without qualms. Fifth, Valuing Trees and Wild Spaces. She didn’t elaborate on what this might entail, but when we spoke, she was wrestling with the idea of sentience, the capacity for perception and feeling. That is, when we say “all life is sacred,” perhaps we mean “all sentient life is sacred.” But she quickly realized sentience is too limiting. What about trees, producing oxygen, sequestering carbon, providing habitat for countless species? What about algae, fungi, mosses, ferns, all the flora in any ecosystem? It’s all part of the interdependent web and contributes to the whole. Surely it is sacred and deserves our respect. Julia didn’t say this, but given the significant data showing that trees communicate with each other, who are we to say they aren’t sentient? Julia concluded by pointing out there is always more to do and learn. “It is a journey,” she said, “and none of us is perfect.” Thank you Julia! I’ve been thinking about my response to the question. Given that all life is sacred, it is important to me to be as present, attentive and supportive as possible when people in my various circles are struggling and suffering. This includes family members, friends, neighbors, parishioners, co-workers and colleagues. Like Julia, activism matters to me. I understand my activism as building power to change systems and institutions so that their outcomes are more fair, equitable and just. Essential to building power is building relationships. I spend considerable time building relationships not only with people in this congregation, but with faith leaders, labor leaders, nonprofit leaders, issue campaign leaders, elected officials, government workers, and a variety of activists across the region. Like Julia, caring for the Earth matters to me. We don’t have solar panels on our roof at home, but we’re getting closer. We conserve energy, recycle, compost, limit food waste. We never use chemicals on our lawn. We mow as little as possible. We live in complete harmony with 100 chipmunks, 20 rabbits, 10 squirrels, a few woodpeckers, owls, hawks, foxes, coyotes, opossums, raccoons, and bobcats. I was unsuccessful in my attempt to adopt veganism, but we do conscientiously limit our weekly intake of meat. Like Julia, I take bugs out of the house. I let spiders stay in the house (unless they’re really, really big). If there’s an infestation, say of carpenter ants, I have to address it. In the end I use ant-traps in an effort to protect the integrity of the property. It’s a trade-off. I have qualms. When it comes to caring for the Earth, I have never felt that the way I live is sufficient given the magnitude of the crisis we face. For that matter, I’ve never felt that my presence when people are suffering, or my participation in efforts to build power for social justice have been sufficient. Yes, I feel like I’m doing the right thing, like I’m living as I ought to live, yet it never quite feels sufficient. This feeling of insufficiency may be the result of perfectionism, but there’s more to it. I also experience is as the ongoing presence in my life of the question, “given that all life is sacred, how shall we live?” I experience as the ongoing invitation to probe more deeply, to ask: Is there more I can do? Is there a better, more effective way to do it, a more reasonable and sane way to do it? Are there ways I am still living that don’t align with my values? Can I let them go, make more room for how I ought to live? What am I learning? Am I integrating new knowledge into my living? In short, I don’t let this feeling of insufficiency become a negative self-critique. I receive it as an invitation to keep asking the question. As Julia said, “there is always more to do and learn. It is a journey, and none of us is perfect.” I leave you with the invitation to contemplate your response to the question, if all life is sacred, how shall we live? Your answers won’t be the same as Julia’s or mine. They won’t be perfect. They may come with trade-offs and compromises. They may come with costs, some beyond your ability to pay. Most will live in that gray space between black and white. Your attempts to live your answers may still leave you feeling unsatisfied. The good news is that the question—how shall we live?—is always with us. It certainly resides at the heart of our Unitarian Universalist faith. My prayer is that when we encounter the notion that all life is sacred, we will choose to be challenged and unsettled, and we will ask the question, how shall we live? Amen and blessed be. [1] For those not familiar with the worship services I lead at UUS:E, I say these words at the conclusion of our weekly sharing of joys and concerns.

Gathering Music Welcome & Announcements Centering Prelude “I Reach Out” By Sandy Johnson Sandy Johnson, vocals; Dan Thompson, guitar Chalice Lighting and Opening Words Excerpt from Sy Montgomery Opening Hymn #298 “Wake Now My Senses” Words by Thomas Mikelson Music: traditional Irish melody, harmony by Carlton R. Young 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; honor 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 neighbor 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 will share; work toward a planet transformed by our care. Silence Meditation Musical Meditation Joys and Concerns Musical Meditation Offering We are taking a special fifth Sunday offering on behalf of DRUUMM (Diverse and Revolutionary UU Multicultural Ministries), the UUA’s oldest national People of Color organization. DRUUMM’s spring fundraiser and national worship service is on May 11th. We will publish the registration information for those who’d like to attend. As always, thank you for your generosity! Offertory Music “Holy Now” By Peter Mayer Dan Thompson, guitar; Sandy Johnson, vocals Sermon “All Life is Sacred” Rev. Josh Pawelek Closing Hymn #155 “Circle Round for Freedom” Words and music by Linda Hirschhorm Circle ’round for freedom, circle ’round for peace, for all of us imprisoned, circle for release, circle for the planet, circle for each soul, for the children of our children, keep the circle whole. Extinguishing the Chalice Closing Circle May faith in the Spirit of Life And hope for the community of Earth And Love of the light in each other Be ours now, and in all the days to come.

03/26/23 Rev. Josh Pawelek I want to say a few words about something most children do exceedingly well: asking for help. It makes sense. When we’re born, we don’t know how to do anything, except sleep, drink, cry and poop. That’s about it. Eventually we learn to smile, giggle, eat mush, then eat solid foods, talk, crawl, walk, run, jump, dance, etc. Children figure out many things on their own. For example, children learn to talk by listening to their parents or care-givers talk, and then copying what they do. However, when we’re young, there’s just so much we don’t know how to do how to do. We don’t have enough years under our belts. We don’t have enough life experience. We need help. Of course, parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, siblings, teachers and paraeducators, doctors and nurses, friends and neighbors all have things they want to teach children, whether children ask for help or now. But even so, along the way, there are all sorts of things children want to do that they don’t know how to do. There are all sorts of things children want to learn. So they ask for help. It’s very natural. The baby’s cry is a way of asking for help: “Help, I’m hungry, I need something to eat.” “Help, my diaper is wet.” “Help, I’m all alone in this crib and I want to snuggle.” And it evolves from there: “Help: pick me up!” “Help: my tummy hurts.” “Help: how do you catch a ball?” “Help: I can’t sleep, there’s a monster under my bed. Can you scare it away?” “Help: show me how to do a somersault.” “Help: I can’t get my shoe tied, my button buttoned or my zipper zipped.” “Help: I’m having trouble with my homework.” “Help: How do you spell dinosaur?” “Help: What does this word mean?” “Help: How do you build a tree house? “Help: Can you drive me to the mall?” “Help: When can I learn to drive?” My point is that children ask for help all the time, and their asking is very natural. Help me understand how the world works, how my body works, how to make friends, etc. But as we age, something very odd happens. We ask for help less. In fact, many people stop asking for help entirely. We get to a certain point in our lives when we’re adults, and suddenly, if we don’t know how to do something, we’re embarrassed to ask for help. We feel like we should know how to do a certain thing, and we don’t want people to know we don’t know how to do it, so we don’t ask. Or worse, we pretend we know how to do it, even though we don’t. We want to appear competent, skilled and knowledgeable. We want to appear as if we have it all together and we don’t need help. So we don’t ask. I’m not saying this is the case for everyone. Some adults are very good at asking for help when they need it. But in my almost quarter-century of experience as a minister, I find that more often than not, adults (at least in the United States, and especially in New England) don’t like asking for help. A simple example in my life is things with motors. I don’t know anything about things with motors. A lot of people assume that men of a certain age know about cars, lawnmowers, tractors, leaf blowers, snow blowers, power tools in general, and kitchen appliances. If it runs on gas or electricity, I know virtually nothing. I’ve learned how to do a few things over the years by reading manuals or watching videos online, but I really know very little, and when something breaks, I am more likely to make it worse than better. I will ask for help, because I have to, but there’s always a tinge of embarrassment. I feel an impulse to resist revealing that I don’t know how to do something. That’s just one example. In my experience it’s even harder to ask for help when there are more serious life challenges. When we’re used to always being in control of our lives, but something gets in the way of that, like not having enough money to pay bills, or not being able to drive, it’s often difficult to admit what’s going on. Remember our ministry theme for March is vulnerability. When we feel vulnerable, at risk in some way, it can be very difficult to ask for help. I’m speaking in generalities here, but many of us feel that if we need help, it somehow reflects poorly on us. It somehow suggests that we don’t measure up to some standard of what makes a good person, and we’re very tentative about asking, or we just won’t ask at all. Mia Songbird is a writer, scholar, activist and organizer based in Oakland, CA who says: “So many of us have a deep aversion to asking for help. The idea of asking for help makes us feel like a failure, makes us feel weak. We often think of needing help as a burden. But that is toxic individualism talking! It’s telling us that we should be able to do it on our own, that if we were strong enough, good enough, capable enough, we wouldn’t need help.”[1] Think about this. We come into this world knowing instinctively how to ask for help. And yet somehow asking for help becomes problematic as we mature. We educate, train, socialize ourselves out of something that is instinctual and necessary. Mia Songbird reminds us that human beings “long to give and receive support.” She refers to a friend of hers named Amoretta Morris who says we inhabit a “divine circle of giving and receiving.” I think it is divine. Or sacred. Or holy. She says that while we often focus on what asking for help means for the person who receives the help, we often forget that giving help can be transformative for the giver. There’s a flow to giving and receiving help. When we don’t ask for help, we block that flow.[2] Mia Songbird says learning about this flow was liberating for her. Asking for help is as important as providing help. She writes: “We have a responsibility to each other to ask for help when we need it,” so that people around us can fulfill their very natural longing to help.[3] I take it one step further. Given that human beings have a deep longing to both give and receive support, I say we actually have a moral obligation to ask for help when we need it. As I hear myself say those words, I recognize that they sound strange. We typically think of helping others in need as the moral thing to do—the compassionate, loving thing to do. We don’t typically think of asking for help as the moral thing to do. I’m saying it is the moral thing to do, precisely because it creates opportunities for others to fulfill their purpose. My message for all the kids is this: when it comes to asking for help, you keep doing what you already do so well, what you do very naturally: ask for help when you need it. And hope throughout your lives you will never feel like you can’t ask for help. That is, I hope you will never unlearn how to ask for help. My message for adults: We actually know how to ask for help. We were children once. We were natural seekers of help from our caregivers and teachers. We can regain this capacity to seek help when we need it. But asking for help is more than this. It really is a moral obligation. It gives the people around us an opportunity to fulfill their longing to be of service, to be of support. And it thereby strengthens the bonds of community. Amen and blessed be. [1] Songbird, Mia, How We Show Up: Reclaiming Family, Friendship and Community (New York: Hachette Books, 2020) p. 16. [2] Ibid., p. 17. [3] Ibid., p. 17.