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Gathering Music (Mary Bopp) Welcome and Announcements (Rev. Josh Pawelek) Centering Prelude "Berceuse" (lullaby) by Gabriel Faure Ann Stowe, violin; Mary Bopp, piano Chalice Lighting and Opening Words "2021/5782: Anew" Rabbi Rachel Barenblat Opening Hymn #188 "Come, Come, Whoever You Are" words adapted from Jalāl al-Dīn Muhammad Rumi music by Lynn Adair Ungar Come, come, whoever you are, wanderer, worshipper, lover of leaving. Ours is no caravan of despair. Come, yet again come. Welcoming New Members Introductions (Membership Committee co-chairs) The Charge (Minister) As you take up membership in the Unitarian Universalist Society East, I charge you to share with us who you are. Share your creativity, your experiences, your questions, your doubts, your beliefs, and all your discoveries of life's meaning. I charge you to shake us up with your ideas, to stir us up with your conscience, to inspire us with your actions, and to stimulate our hopes with your dreams of what life can be. Congregational Welcome (Congregation) We welcome you as companions in the search for truth and meaning. We invite you to share in our mission of caring for one another, encouraging each other in spiritual growth, working for justice and peace in the wider community, and living in harmony with the earth. We join our gifts with yours, trusting in the power of community to bring freedom, healing and love. New Member Affirmation (New members) We join the Unitarian Universalist Society East out of a desire and willingness to participate in a liberal religious congregation. We pledge to share our time energy and gifts; to diligently seek our spiritual truths; and to strengthen the bonds of community. Responsive Hymn "What Is This Church?" words adapted from Eugene Sander Music by Jean Sibelius What is this church? A place of love and gladness. Where all may meet, to seek the common good. A source of strength, to face each doubt and sadness. Where every dream, is known and understood. What is this church? Ask those who came before, And found themselves by crossing through its door. Joys and Concerns Musical Meditation Offering For the month of September, our Community Outreach offering will be shared by two organizations: Power Up brings much needed visibility to the ongoing realities of racism in Manchester and surrounding communities. Some UUSE members and friends have participated in Power Up's pantry, after school programs, rallies, protests and other actions. Manchester Latino Affairs Council The Manchester Latino Affairs Council (M.L.A.C.) was established in January of 2007. Its current mission is to address social issues with a focus on diversity, inclusivity and equality within Manchester's Latino community. MLAC sponsors Manchester's annual Hispanic Heritage Day and is looking forward to its first public "Three Kings Celebration" in January and a "Latina Heart Health Walk" next April. Offering Music "Nigun" from Baal Shem, Three Pictures of Chassidic Life Ernest Bloch Ann Stowe, violin; Mary Bopp, piano Sermon "Sweetness Everywhere" Rev. Josh Pawelek Closing Hymn #1011 "Return Again" by Shlomo Carlebach Return again, Return again, Return to the home of your soul. Return to who you are, Return to what you are, Return to where you are born and reborn again 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.

Emmy Galbraith is our new Director of Children and Youth Ministry! The CYM Committee is overjoyed to have Emmy join us and is looking forward to working closely with her! Back to School Pictures: Our annual All Congregation Homecoming Service is coming up quickly on September 10! We would love to include ADULTS too - Your first day of school counts! PLEASE send pictures to uusecym@uuse.org by September 6. We are especially looking for folks to help out in our classrooms who HAVEN'T had experience with our CYM program yet. There are so many rewarding opportunities working with our children and youth! Please contact uusecym@uuse.org to earn more! CYM Registration: If you haven't yet, PLEASE REGISTER your child for the 2023-2024 CYM program: REGISTER HERE. CYM 2023-2024 calendar: Here is the link for the 2023-2024 CYM Calendar! Please contact us at uusecym@uuse.org with any questions.

Gathering Music Welcome & Announcements Centering Prelude "Come, Come, Whoever You Are" by Lynn Unger arr. by Mary Bopp Introduction to the Service First Reading "I Want to Be with People" by Dana E. Worsnop Musical Interlude Chalice Lighting and Opening Words "So That We Might, Together, Shine" by Erik Walker Wikstrom When we light our chalice everyone focuses on the flame. Yet it is the paraffin of the candle, the cotton of the wick, the potassium chlorate and sulfur of the match, and the oxygen in the air around us that makes that flame possible. As leaders we are not called to be a lone beacon on a hill. Rather, we are meant to work together so that we might, together, shine. Opening Hymn #128 "For All That Is Our Life" Words: Bruce Findlow Music: Patrick L. Rickey led by Sandy Johnson For all that is our life we sing our thanks and praise; for all life is a gift which we are called to use to build the common good and make our own days glad. For needs which others serve, for services we give, for work and its rewards, for hours of rest and love; we come with praise and thanks for all that is our life. For sorrow we must bear, for failures, pain and loss, for each new thing we learn, for fearful hours that pass: we come with praise and thanks for all that is our life. For all that is our life we sing our thanks and praise; for all life is a gift which we are called to use to build the common good and make our own days glad. Joys & Concerns Musical Interlude Offering For the month of September, our Community Outreach offering will be shared by two organizations: Power Up brings much needed visibility to the ongoing realities of racism in Manchester and surrounding communities. Some UUSE members and friends have participated in Power Up's pantry, after school programs, rallies, protests and other actions. Manchester Latino Affairs Council The Manchester Latino Affairs Council (M.L.A.C.) was established in January of 2007. It's current mission is to address social issues with a focus on diversity, inclusivity and equality within Manchester's Latino community. MLAC sponsors Manchester's annual Hispanic Heritage Day and is looking forward to its first public "Three Kings Celebration" in January and a "Latina Heart Health Walk" next April. Note: This year's Hispanic Heritage Day happens on September 16, from 11:00 AM to 3:00 PM indoors at Leisure Labs at Manchester's Mahoney Recreation Center at 110 Cedar Street. The theme is Familia/Family. The event will feature live music, dancing, food trucks, vendors, crafts and resource tables. Offering Music "You've Got a Friend" by Carole King sung by Sandy Johnson and Jeannette LeSure Second Reading "Experience Connection" by Peter Morales Musical Interlude Homily in Three Parts Sheila Foran Sandy Karosi Congregation Closing Hymn #360 "Here We Have Gathered" Words: Alicia S. Carpenter Music: Genevan Psalter led by Sandy Johnson Here we have gathered, gathered side by side; circle of kinship, come and step inside! May all who seek here find a kindly word; may all who speak here feel they have been heard. Sing now together this, our hearts' own song. Here we have gathered, called to celebrate days of our lifetime, matters small and great: we of all ages, women, children, men, infants and sages, sharing what we can. Sing now together this, our hearts' own song. Life has its battles, sorrows and regret: but in the shadows, let us not forget: we who now gather know each other's pain; kindness can heal us: as we give, we gain. Sing now in friendship this, our hearts' own song. Extinguishing the Chalice and Closing Words "Be True, Be Well, Be Loving" by Cynthia Landrum We leave this gathered community, But we don't leave our connection, Our concerns, our care for each other. Our service to each other, to the world, and to our faith continues. Until we are together again, friends, Be strong, be well, be true, be loving. 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.

Gathering Music (Mary Bopp) Welcome (Rev. Josh Pawelek) Announcements Centering Prelude Arioso from Cantata No. 156 (J.S. Bach, arr. by H. R. Kent) Played by Andy Caruk Chalice Lighting and Opening Words "A Spacious Welcome" by the Rev. Shari Woodbury spoken by Lilly Coleman and Rev. Josh Pawelek Opening Hymn #361 "Enter, Rejoice and Come In" Words and Music by Louise Ruspini Enter, rejoice, and come in. Enter, rejoice, and come in. Today will be a joyful day; enter, rejoice, and come in. Open your ears to the song ... Open your hearts ev'ryone ... Don't be afraid of some change ... Enter, rejoice, and come in ... Welcome and Charge to our New Director of Children and Youth Ministry BACK to SCHOOL Slide Show Blessing of the Backpacks Joys and Concerns Musical Meditation (Mary Bopp) Offering For the month of September, our Community Outreach offering will be shared by two organizations: Power Up brings much needed visibility to the ongoing realities of racism in Manchester and surrounding communities. Some UUSE members and friends have partiipated in Power Up's pantry, after school programs, rallies, protests and other actions. Manchester Latino Affairs Council The Manchester Latino Affairs Council (M.L.A.C.) was established in January of 2007. It's current mission is to address social issues with a focus on diversity, inclusivity and equality within Manchester's Latino community. MLAC sponsors Manchester's annual Hispanic Heritage Day, and is looking forward to its first public "Three Kings Celebration" in January and a "Latina Heart Health Walk" next April. Note: This year's Hispanic Heritage Day happens on September 16, from 11:00 AM to 3:00 PM indoors at Leisure Labs at Manchester's Mahoney Recreation Center at 110 Cedar Street. The theme is Familia/Family. The event will feature live music, dancing, food trucks, vendors, crafts and resource tables. Offertory Music "Boat on the River" by Styx Performed by Will Alexson, mandolin & vocals Our UUSE Covenant We will strive to ... Treat each other with respect Foster an encouraging and supportive congregational culture Engage each other with love, compassion, kindness and forgiveness Listen with an open heart and mind Speak our truths thoughtfully, openly and directly Acknowledge and recognize conflict as an opportunity for growth and understanding Welcome, accept and care for one another Nurture generous spirits Be sensitive to dynamics of power and privilege as they relate to race, class, gender, sexual orientation, ability and age Be accountable to one another and honor our commitments Maintain and encourage a sense of humor Learn and participate in Unitarian Universalist Society East's established system of due process and governance If any of the above fails, we strive for forgiveness. Our Children's Covenant Be respectful of people and space. Treat others how you want to be treated. Be kind (and use kind words!) Use materials appropriately. Listen when others are talking. Follow the principles. Participate. Do your best! If we forget, we begin again in love. Our Congregational Commitment We come together as companions in the search for truth and meaning. We share in our congregational mission of caring for one another, encouraging each other in spiritual growth, working for justice and peace in the wider world, and living in harmony with the earth. We join our gifts together, trusting that a gathering of diverse souls, united in common endeavor, has the power to bring freedom, healing, and love. We renew our pledge to share our time, energy and talents with this congregation; to diligently seek our spiritual truths; and to strengthen the bonds of community. Chant "Love Is the Spirit of This Church" words by James Vila Blake; music by Mary Bopp Love is the spirit of this church and service its law. This is our great covenant: To dwell together in peace. Love is the spirit of this church and service its law. To seek the truth in love, and to help one another. Love is the spirit of this church and service its law. Reflection (Rev. Josh Pawelek) Closing Hymn "Spirit of Life" by Carolyn McDade #123 in Singing the Living Tradition Spirit of Life, come unto me. Sing in my heart all the stirrings of compassion. Blow in the wind, rise in the sea; move in the hand, giving life the shape of justice. Roots hold me close; wings set me free; Spirit of Life, come to me, come to me. 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.

04/16/23 Rev. Josh Pawelek Our ministry theme for April is resistance. I recognized early on in the planning for this morning’s service that it would be very easy for me to preach to you about the ways we resist unjust systems and institutions, the ways we resist abuses of social, economic and political power, the ways we resist as participants in movements for social justice, environmental justice, racial justice, gender justice, worker justice, GLBTQIA justice, justice for people with disabilities, justice for immigrants—you know the list. I note there’s a whole heap of resistance happening in Tennessee right now. It started as a demand from ordinary citizens that the state legislature strengthen gun control statutes in response to the March 28th mass shooting at the Covenant School in Nashville. It escalated when three legislators added their voices, with bullhorns, disrupting legislative business as usual—an action which looked very much to me like nonviolent, civil disobedience. Two of those legislators, both young black men, were expelled from the Tennessee House of Representatives on April 6th by a vote of their colleagues. The third, a white woman, kept her seat by one vote. So much has happened. So much resistance. Incidentally, last Sunday, the expelled Memphis state representative, Justin Pearson, did indeed preach the Easter sermon at the Unitarian Universalist Church of the River in Memphis. If I have my facts correct, Rep. Pearson’s father, the Rev. Jason Pearson, leads a church that is in the process of moving into the Church of the River and worshipping there on Sunday afternoons. The two congregations are building a close relationship. They had already planned to worship together on Easter Sunday. After the junior Pearson was expelled from the legislature, the elder Pearson suggested to Church of the River’s minister, Rev. Sam Teitel, that his son would be a wise choice to preach at their joint Easter service. It’s a powerful sermon.[1] It’s no overstatement to say that resistance to injustice has been a central dimension of our shared ministry during the twenty years I have served as your minister. Of course, resistance for resistance’s sake has never been the point. Working towards a shared vision of a kinder, more fair, just, liberated and loving society is the point. Resistance is a tool, a method, a tactic we use in the service of that shared vision. Resistance is the fire that clears away those aspects of society that wound, oppress, exclude, detain, underfund, under-educate, under-employ, under-house, incarcerate, pollute, and kill; the fire that, in its aftermath, leaves space for the emergence of new structures, new social, economic and political arrangements, new laws, new cultural norms that better serve and sustain all people and, indeed, all life on the planet. That’s the easy sermon! Not that this kind of resistance is easy. It’s not. I’m remembering the first time I stepped into a street to block traffic in June of 2015 with Moral Monday CT, calling attention to the Black Lives Matter movement, protesting in solidarity with the people of Ferguson, MO. That was resistance in the form of nonviolent civil disobedience, which is used specifically to create tension in the public sphere. Martin Luther King, Jr. writes about this in his Letter from a Birmingham Jail. I understood it. I was excited. I was proud. And, once we were in the street, once we had stopped traffic, once drivers were clearly angry at what we were doing, once the police arrived, the tension overwhelmed me. My body started resisting me. I started feeling sick—dizzy, mostly. I almost left the action, but ultimately stayed and was glad I did. I realized later, this was my body’s way of telling me it did not like the tension, even though my mind thought it was the right action, the right way to advance the Movement for Black Lives in our state. That’s the sermon I really want to preach this morning. I want to name the way our bodies resist what we know is right. This resistance lives very naturally in us. If we give into it, it can prevent us from growing, maturing, creating and changing. If we give into it, it can prevent us from becoming the next best version of ourselves. At the beginning of our service I shared with you a poem from James Crews entitled “After the Fire.” He writes: Let me endure whatever fires must pass through here, must scorch my skin. And if I have to feel the heat, let me also trust that like the lodgepole pine, the fire will open the parts of me that are still closed tight, releasing seeds I’ve been clinging to, hoarding for years. Let me thrive in this new clearing made at the center of my life, seeing now how the necessary flames melted away my resistance, revealing all that once lay hidden, asleep inside me. This poem reminds me we humans are creatures of habit. We grow very attached to our daily routines and patterns, our favorite foods, our level of activity, the medicines we take, the shows we watch. They become sources of stability, familiarity and comfort in our lives. We don’t let them go easily. Even when we live with a variety of discomforts and we know we need to make changes, our bodies resist—sometimes before we have a chance to think about changing. I suppose the most obvious examples have to do with the ways we do or don’t take care of ourselves. Are we willing and able to change our diet to live more healthily? Are we willing and able to cut back on alcohol, on caffeine for the sake of our health? Are we willing to follow our doctor’s good advice? Our therapist’s good advice? Our minister’s (occasionally) good advice? Even when we know intellectually that we need to change our ways, something in us resists. We are creatures of habit. The prospect of any big life change engenders a certain amount of resistance. We might resist leaving a job that doesn’t suit us because we’re attached to the salary, the benefits, the co-workers, the familiarity. We might resist retiring, even when we should have retired a long time ago, because so much of our identity is tied to our work. Think about the big life changes you’ve experienced. How often was it smooth sailing all the way through? How much internal resistance did you need to overcome before you were able to make the change? Sometimes we resist because there’s something we need to say or do, and we know it’s going to create tension. We know it’s going to cause conflict. I gave the example of conducting nonviolent civil disobedience, but it could just as easily be realizing that a special, prized relationship is breaking down and the breakdown needs to be addressed if there is to be any chance of repair and reconciliation; or realizing that a friend is an addict and the addiction needs to be addressed; or realizing that a relationship is abusive and it needs to end; or realizing, as we were naming a few weeks ago, “I am struggling, and I need to ask for help.” My point is not that we don’t speak our truths when we need to. And in fact I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that some people are very comfortable with the tension their truths create. My point is that, for most of us, it is natural to resist saying and doing things that will create tension and conflict. I suspect many of you have had the experience of needing to say something hard to a loved one, yet you don’t want to say it. It feels too disruptive. It will create too much tension. It will rock the boat. We know we have to speak our truth, but something in us resists. It can make you sick. I also want to name that at times we resist the things we are most passionate about. There’s something we want to pursue, but we don’t pursue it because we’re not sure how to make space for it in our lives. We fear our pursuit may interrupt our regular routines and patterns, that it may seem selfish to start something new. We fear we may not have the necessary skills or talents to paint, to sculpt, to dance, to write, to speak, to preach, to coach, to train, to run for office, to lead. We fear people won’t take us seriously. So again, something in us resists. We set the passion aside for the time being. James Crews reminds us there is much that lays hidden, asleep inside us—our truths, our passions, our recognition that we need to live differently for the sake of our health. I’m reminded of another poet who said something similar, though he used far more grandiose language. Walt Whitman, the 19th-century American poet, a student of the Transcendentalist movement, one wrote: Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes.)[2] This is from Whitman’s poem “Song of Myself, 51.” I haven’t studied it. I can’t speak to what he meant by these words, but it makes sense to me that the thing we’re resisting feels like a contradiction. It goes against our grain, our habits, the patterns to which we are accustomed. Whitman cheers us on. Very well then I contradict myself. I contain multitudes. In order to access them, in order to liberate them, in order to let them live, I must contradict myself. I somehow need to overcome this resistance. I contain multitudes. You contain multitudes. We contain multitudes. There is a vastness within us, an expansiveness, a generosity, even—though it must be said with humility–a greatness in us; and we resist it. It’s not just the poets who name this. It’s the scientists too. I read to you earlier from the late molecular biologist Darryl Reanney who reminds us that we are kin to the stars, that the hydrogen atoms in our bodies are continuous with the hydrogen atoms that first emerged in the moments following the big bang, what he calls the Genesis event. These bones, this hand /star-ash. Though he writes poetically, and his words at times sound metaphorical, this is not metaphor. We are literally star stuff. Reanney says our true age is not 24 or 43 or 56 or 81, but 15 billion years. Indeed, we contain multitudes. Yet, we resist. And there is so much that lays hidden, asleep inside us. Back on the street in 2015, feeling sick and dizzy, I went to talk to the medic on our team. He did his best to assess me. He had no idea what was wrong with me. He said, “You seem fine, you’re probably just nervous. It’s up to you whether you want to go back out there.” I did want to go. I had trained for this. I had done my spiritual purification. I thought about how bad I would feel if I didn’t finish the action. So I went back out in the street and took my arrest. Sitting in the police van I sudden felt relaxed and peaceful. My resistance had burned away. The poet writes: Let me thrive in this new clearing made at the center of my life, seeing now how the necessary flames melted away my resistance, revealing all that once lay hidden, asleep inside me. I don’t know what power burns away our resistance to doing what is right, saying what is true, living well. Maybe the fire comes when we pray for it to come. Maybe the fire comes unbidden, grace bestowed by a loving divinity we never asked. Maybe the fire comes because we finally brace ourselves, clench our fists, and work up the nerve to do what we have to do. Maybe the fire comes because we recognize our current routine is unsustainable, and we no longer have any choice. Here’s what I believe: in those moments when resistance rises up in us, the necessary flames are always there, ready to burn, ready to open the parts of us that are closed tight, ready to clear a space for growth, creativity, maturation, for the next version of our best self; ready to clear a space for the multitudes to come forth. The flames are there. Our task—and I say it’s a spiritual task—is figuring out how to let them burn. If you’re concerned about that task, remember that we know something about fire. Remember that we are kin to the stars. Remember that the atoms within us are consistent with the atoms that emerged as that primordial explosion began to cool. The most ancient parts of ourselves know what it means to come through fire. Surely, we can endure whatever fires must pass through here, must scorch our skin. Surely all that lays hidden, asleep inside us, can be revealed. Amen and blessed be. [1] Watch the entire Church of the River Easter service at https://www.churchoftheriver.org/resources/virtualservices?fbclid=IwAR3UTbJdr5wkvc_YiBnVWq-5kMVY5SGmVpThoMLYcPlrK0uCyVBQutw00y4#CQ0Gk2MAvtQ.

02/05/23 Calling The Quarters excerpts from “Quarterdance” by Mary Bopp and Josh Pawelek Spirit of the East, we invite your presence. Come air, come breath, come knowledge. Spirit of the South, we invite your presence. Come fire, come heat, come turning. Spirit of the West, we invite your presence. Come moisture, come water, come mystery. Spirit of the North, we invite your presence. Come earth, come roots, come wisdom. Introduction to Imbolc Rev. Josh Pawelek and Peggy Gagne Josh: In early February we arrive at at a cross-quarter time—halfway between solstice and equinox. In the ancient Gaelic calendar, this is the time for the celebration of Imbolc or Oimelc—Imbolc meaning ‘in the belly,’ or ‘fire in the belly,’ pregnant; Oimelc referring to ewe’s milk,’ because the sheep are pregnant, ready to give birth. The milk is beginning to flow. Spring is coming. Among pre-Christian Celtic peoples, as well as in many current-day pagan communities, the celebration of Imbolc—typically on February 2nd—is associated with Brigid or Bríd, the ancient Irish goddess: the exalted one, keeper of the flame, guardian of home and hearth, patron of bards and crafters, a poet, a healer, a member of the Tuatha Dé Danann, the ancient Irish tribe of gods. In Catholicism February 1st is the feast day of St. Brigid, who was likely a fifth-century Irish nun, remembered for founding monasteries and churches. Catholics attribute a number of miracles to her. Her blood was said to have healing properties. She’s rumored to have turned water into beer. Many historians of religion argue that over time, Brigid the Catholic nun took on the characteristics of Brigid the pagan goddess. These arguments ring true to me. Because the people would not—perhaps could not—give up their goddess, the church Christianized her, elevated her, venerated her. Thus the more ancient patterns and meanings remain to this day, even if they reside in the shadows. Peggy: Imbolc is a cross quarter on the Wiccan calendar, which means it’s between a solstice and an equinox. It’s a time between. It comes after the dark and cold time of contemplation following Yule at the winter solstice, but well before the renewal of Ostara, which comes with the return of the light at the spring equinox. Can you imagine the sun peeking through a winter forest? That’s an Imbolc image. It’s a time of slow awakening, just like the groundhog sticking its head out of its hole. It’s a time of brushing away cobwebs and cleaning out what no longer serves us. In the Wiccan practice, Imbolc is a time to replace our old ritual candles with fresh ones. Some say Imbolc gives us the idea of spring cleaning. When my instructor told me Imbolc marks the beginning of spring on the Wiccan calendar, I told her she had obviously never lived in Maine, where there is usually still several feet of snow on the ground! Apparently the Celtic parts of the world had milder winters! Meditation “Imbolc” By Erin Williams and Madeleine Breault It is no longer Christmas, or Yule, or Hannukah- our family’s traditions have been packed away into boxes And stored in the basement until next year. Many days are still gray and cold, but it isn’t really Winter anymore, it isn’t as dark, the days stretch longer, sunlight extends into the evening now. And yet, it is not Spring. This is a time of waiting. This is a turning time, an in-between time, A liminal time. Imbolc means Fire in the Belly, What is yet to be born, What is still gestating, Ruminating- My fire is Making art, walking in the woods and swimming in the lake, My fire is sitting in the sun, or watching the stars My fire is the projects I want to do and the stories I want to write. What projects are you imagining? What trips are you planning? What exciting spark is dancing around inside of you? Who are you becoming? Imbolc is Brigid, Goddess of healers and poets Goddess of the forge where tools were made in fire Goddess of the wells and waterways, where the earth provides us with nourishment- The ice is melting now, and the water trickles into the yawning earth- The seeds are waiting. This is a time of pausing, checking in, This is a time of questioning Are you ready to go outside on this cold morning? To feel the sunlight And Know how much you are loved? Or is that too much, Are you like the groundhog, seeing your shadow, needing more time- To ruminate, to sit at the hearth of yourself? Sometimes things seem so uncertain, but I know that the seasons are circles, And I trust that endlessness. I know that there is fire inside all of us, And that is our potential, that is how much we can love- So even during these in-between days I Celebrate the pause, I Trust the circle, I Remember that the sun is returning The ice is melting The earth is stirring There is a purple crocus bravely Showing her face And I am returning her smile. Reflection “Hope” by Peggy Gagne The early Celtic version of Imbolc was not all that different from the festival in early medieval times, when Christianity was taking hold in Ireland. One of the goddesses the Celts worshipped at this festival was Brigid, (and you will see that spelled and hear it pronounced in a multitude of ways!). She was the daughter of Dagda (the chief Celtic deity) and one of the Tuatha De Dannan, the first inhabitants of Ireland. She is associated with many things, most significantly poetry and fertility, but also such activities as healing, smithing, arts and crafts, and tending to livestock. Making foods with a focus on milk, such as cheese or custard were and are still popular. In celebration of her, it common to write poems and try out various crafts. One popular craft is the making of a Brigid’s Cross, now known as a St. Bridget’s Cross. (Hold up picture) It is traditionally made out of plants called rushes, but these days can be made out of whatever material that works. It is hung above the entrances to dwellings to invoke the help of St Bridget in warding off disease. Even in mild winters like the one this year, I find it can be easy to get a little depressed by the shorter days with less light. But as Imbolc approaches, I can feel not only the lengthening, but also the strengthening in the light, and it seems to give me a little strength too – to just hold on a little bit longer and we’ll be through this and spring will be here. I can almost taste it in the air – and occasionally hear the hopeful song of an early spring bird. I start to go out for more walks in search of the light and notice the early buds setting on some trees. I notice shoots of early spring plants just starting to break ground. I also find smudging the house lightens the feel of everything, since it’s too early to open the windows yet. And my thoughts start to turn to the projects I’ve had in the back of my mind, both for my home and myself. I start to look at day trips I might take with bus companies or night classes I might be interested in. I start to look forward to being around people again. New seeds of ideas to plant as the world becomes brighter and warmer. If I had to sum up Imbolc in one word it would probably be HOPE. Hope that the cold and dark will continue to recede. Hope that the ideas and thoughts that I have come up with in these quieter days will take root and grow when I plant them at Ostara. And hope that I and those around me will continue to move towards the light and encourage others to do so as well. Thank you. Reflection Imbolc by Sudha Sevin For me, celebrating the Celtic holiday of Imbolc is a very practical way to get through the post-holidays winter months. It’s an antidote to cabin fever. Imbolc is just one of the Celtic seasonal holidays I mark. I have found that celebrating these special days, which are about halfway between the solstices and equinoxes, aligns me to the earth and the celestial energies that are emerging at the time. By marking them, I harmonize with those energies. It is also a way to connect to cyclical time, which I experience as a spiral of present moments rather than clocks and calendars. Or you might think of it as “stepping out of time.” The Celts love to celebrate the liminal, whether it is faerie mounds, the dawn, or the threshold of your home. How do you convey what Imbolc is? It’s vast. Its traditions have many different aspects and regional variations. I have to make choices about what to focus on. I could tell you Imbolc means this or that, but so much of it is subtle. Much of it is only known through experience. Still, I would like to try to share my experience of Imbolc with you. So, this is our moment, right now, to mark Imbolc together. I invite you to close your eyes or gaze at a candle and let these words, which I wrote for you, wash over you. Perhaps from this, you’ll have your own experience of the magic of Imbolc. Imbolc Through the dark each of us has carried forward a tiny flame Each has found a way to nurture that seed of light, enduring black, cold passageways in faith that ‘round the next curve, or the next, a lit circle of entry shall show itself, Tell us, we’ve made it to the surface. The powers of Light are waxing and the thin, hibernating bear shall reappear. Remember that once bejeweled August harvest? And then the aging stalks and vines—we tugged and composted—returned to hushed earth? Now so close is renewal, pushing up from earth’s womb. The birds await your return. In equipoise the trees hold the unsheathing of their leaves. Come back to us, Lady! Helpless lambs are born from your red blood and white milk a miracle The sun’s light grows, a toddler yet to be sure, but soon strong and able to warm the bones of the dead. So much promise, that new one. Do we not live by dreams? Candlelight reflections in the waters of the sacred well is the shine of our souls. Reflection “Pagan at Heart” Rev. Josh Pawelek I am pagan at heart. I wonder if you are too. Some pagans have direct relationships with the goddesses and gods who were known to the ancients. Among Unitarian Universalist pagans, especially those who observe the eight sabbat rituals of the neo-pagan wheel of the year, including Imbolc, which we’re exploring this morning, many of those gods and goddesses are Celtic in origin, such as Brigid. Others are Germanic. Some are Norse. Occasionally UU pagans explore the Greek and Roman pantheons. Occasionally they look beyond ancient Europe. I haven’t talked about this much from the pulpit, but one of the goals of my study leave this past summer was to read non-European, non-White science fiction and fantasy writers who weave earth-based deities into their story-telling—Tomi Adeyemi and Nnedi Okorafor, both Nigerian-American writers, often work with West African deities, the orishas. S.A. Chakraborty, a Catholic-born convert to Islam, tells tales of Middle Eastern Djinn in her Daevabad series. Rebecca Roanhorse, a mixed race, Pueblo and African American writer, draws on the religious world-views of Pre-Columbian American civilizations. There’s more. My point for this morning is that paganism comes in millions of variations—some highly structured, some entirely spontaneous—and it exists in every corner of the planet where human beings live and, especially, as they interact with their natural environment in spiritually significant ways. Paganism comes from the Latin word paganus, which refers to peasants, rural people, rustic people. Over the millennia ‘Pagan’ has become a word of derision in the lexicon of larger, organized religions, like Christianity and Islam, religions that sought (and still sometimes seek) to convert the people from their traditional folk ways, folk practices, folk religions, often in the context of conquest and colonization. While many indigenous cultures across the planet have held onto their Earth-based spiritual practices throughout centuries of colonization, in recent decades, many non-indigenous people, especially in the West, have reclaimed Paganism as a positive, powerful, meaningful spiritual identity. Today Paganism points to something that was lost or stolen generations ago: a recognition of the sacredness of the Earth; an understanding of the interrelatedness of all life; and a desire to engage spiritually with nature. For some pagans, at least some of the time, the deities are very real. In my experience Brigid speaks to many people across Northern Europe and North America, especially at Imbolc. Something about her seems so real and accessible. At other times, the deities become metaphors for certain natural life forces or human lifeways – love, healing, fertility, birth, death, planting, harvesting, etc. Brigid is associated with the home and the hearth, bards, crafters, poets, brewers, and healers. At other times the deities become associated with the elements—earth, air, fire, water. Brigid is the keeper of the flame. I am Pagan at heart. I don’t have that immediate, direct relationship with a deity (though if I had to choose one, I would probably choose Brigid; or as a person of German – Scandinavian – Polish heritage, I might feel called to do research and find a deity who aligns with that heritage.) But I’ve never felt called in quite that way. When I say I am Pagan at heart, I mean I live with a constant, sometimes muted, sometimes blaring, sense that the natural world is magical, enchanted, breathing, listening, observing, and even at times, conscious, knowing. It’s not an intellectual construct. It’s not something for which I have any scientific evidence. It’s not something I can prove. It’s not exactly rational. It’s a sensation, a feeling, an intuition, a spiritual inclination. When we arrive at Imbolc, and I hear that translation “in the belly,” referring to pregnant sheep, or Oimelc, referring to ewe’s milk, I get a flash of recognition: of course, we are six weeks out from spring, and signs of spring are slowly revealing themselves. Nature follows its seasonal patterns, winter slowly recedes, spring slowly approaches. I feel it. The term Imbolc affirms the feeling. I’ve preached previously about the connections between Imbolc and Groundhog Day, the descendent of that ancient, Northern European tradition of using animal divination at this cross-quarter time to discern when to plant the first seeds. I see all the campy media attention given to Chuckles here in Manchester, or Punxsutawney Phil in Pennsylvania. It’s a bit corny. Fun for kids. But secretly my heart leaps out of my chest. Of course they know when spring is coming! It probably has nothing to do with whether they see their shadow, but of course they know. They are Earth creatures beholden ancient instincts; Earth creatures embedded in the patterns of Nature even if they live inside museums. Of course they know when spring is coming. And if they could talk to us, they’d probably ask us why we talked ourselves out of this knowledge. They would probably ask us why we have educated and industrialized and technologized ourselves out of this knowledge which actually still lives inside us and is our birthright as Earth creatures like them. They might even warn us: all life on the planet is now in peril precisely because you humans no longer know how to live in concert with the natural world. Imbolc is one among many opportunities to get back in touch with that ancient knowledge, those ancient Earth creature instincts. Lighting fires of purification and cleansing? Blessing candles for the year’s rituals? Letting go of that which no longer works for us and is really just producing mental clutter? Getting ready for spring cleaning? It all seems to fit with this moment in the wheel of the year; it all seems to connect back to the way the Earth begins preparing itself for bursting forth in spring splendor. So I say yes to all of it. I am Pagan at Heart. Even if you don’t use the word Pagan, I suspect, at least in some way, you are too. Amen and blessed be.

01/08/23 Our ministry theme for this first month of 2023 is Finding Our Center. It has always been abundantly clear to me that the practice of shared ministry lives at the center of our congregational life—meaning our life here at the Unitarian Universalist Society: East in Manchester. Given that, as a way to begin talking about this theme, I want to share my thoughts on shared ministry. Full disclosure: I preached a version of this sermon at the Unitarian Society of Hartford in October. A number of UUS:E members were in attendance. Afterwards, all of them said some version of “You have to preach this sermon in Manchester.” I am taking them up on their suggestion. I call this sermon “What Shared Ministry Means to Me.” The short response is: it means everything. When I say “shared ministry” I’m referring to all the ways in which a congregation—the collective of lay people—shares, collaborates, partners, cooperates, or teams up with its professional staff: its minister or ministers, its religious education professionals, music professionals, membership professionals, etc. And of course, not every congregation has that full array of professionals. Not every congregation has a minister. So then the question becomes, how do the lay people share ministry among themselves? And a further question, which is somewhat beyond my scope this morning, though not completely absent: how do the area congregations with the same denominational identity share ministry? And even further beyond my scope, though not completely absent: how do congregations of all denominations and faiths in a particular region share ministry? Ministry is never a solo act. Even if one person visits you in the hospital, the congregation, by some means (which is not always visible, which is often taken for granted) has authorized that person to be there; while it has also authorized, by some means, someone else to prepare worship for Sunday, someone else to attend the interfaith coalition board meeting, someone else to volunteer in the nursery, someone else to make the coffee, someone else to greet people as they arrive for worship, someone else to edit the newsletter, someone else to chair the board, someone else to handle the technology so that people can participate safely from home. And behind all that authorization (which is an admittedly bureaucratic term), giving rise to it, is a beautiful, sometimes messy set of very human relationships, human conversations, human covenants, human love and multiple avenues for connection to all that is holy in our lives. The ministry is shared. We share ministry because we are human in relationship with each other and with divinity understood and experienced in a multiplicity of ways. Our sharing means everything. The best way for me to illustrate this in more detail is to tell you the story of my encounter with shared ministry here at UUS:E. As you know, I am serving in my 20th year as your solo professional minister. While UUS:E is not the only congregation I have served as minister, it is the one I have served for most of my career, and thus its conventions around shared ministry have shaped me far more than the conventions of any other institution in our Unitarian Universalist Association. The first thing to know about our model of shared ministry, something which we don’t often name explicitly, but which becomes apparent to Sunday guests after about a month of visiting, has to do with how my time is structured. I am a full-time minister; however, I am a part-time preacher. I lead worship and preach, on average, twice a month. I sometimes co-lead a third monthly service—what we call an all-congregation service, where the children’s ministry worships with the adults. We do that at least once a month. Some of those services are staff-led, some are lay-led; some emerge out of a lay and staff partnership. One or two Sunday services each month are lay-led. This model developed out of necessity. The congregation called its first full-time minister, the Rev. Arnold Westwood, in the 1970s. Very quickly they ran out of money to pay him full-time, so he started splitting his time between UUS:E and the UU congregation in Amherst, MA. So, for us he was a part-time minister and a part-time preacher. And, out of necessity, lay people began leading worship on the weeks when Arnold was in Amherst. The congregation liked this arrangement, so much so that it became a central part of our identity. To this day, the lay people of the congregation share the worship ministry with the professional minister. Allegedly—I don’t have the full story—the minister who succeeded Arnold in the 1980s didn’t like this model and, among other things, was overheard saying, “Wait until they hear a real minister preach; they’ll get rid of this model.” That minister moved on a few years later. The sharing continued. Fast forward to the spring of 2002. I am the candidate for the minister position at UUS:E, getting ready to succeed the Rev. Connie Sternberg. Not once, not twice, but three times before I show up for what we call “the candidating week,” the chair of the search committee, Fred Sawyer, calls me to ask: “Are you sure you are OK with preaching only twice a month? You’re not gonna get into the position and then tell us you want to preach every week, right?” There was a lot of anxiety around this question. Was I just saying I liked the model so I’d be sure to get the job? Carol Simpson, Nancy Madar, Malcolm Barlow and Sylvia Ounpuu were members of that search committee. I trust they can vouch for what I am telling you. That anxiety was quite palpable. I really liked the model, and wasn’t entirely sure how to convince the search committee that I really meant it. On the surface, I liked the model because I struggled with writing sermons. I think I prepared pretty good sermons, but the process took me forever. I didn’t relish the idea of sitting down every week, week in and week out, to prepare worship. The thought of doing that was exhausting. I knew that by the end of every congregational year, full-time preachers were tired, burned out, out of ideas, bone-dry, desperate for some down-time. I didn’t want that in my life. But that was mostly my anxiety, which is common to many new ministers—a need to be perfect, undergirded by a secret, hard-to-share knowledge that we are not perfect, undergirded by a fear that our imperfections will be discovered, undergirded by a nagging question: do I really have what it takes? I also knew from experience that if I had, on average, two weeks to prepare a sermon, it would inevitably be better than if I had, on average, one week. Two weeks allows time for ideas to gestate. Two weeks allows time for more research. Two weeks allows time for more editing. Two weeks allows time to get the rhythm and the poetry of the words just right. But this was just the surface of my embrace of the model. This was me struggling with the mechanics of worship design and sermon writing. There was much more underneath, though I understand it much better now than I did then. Perhaps you’ve heard the phrase “the prophet-hood and the priesthood of all believers?” This concept emerged in Europe during the Protestant Reformation—mid to late 1500s, early to mid 1600s. There is a complex history to it which I won’t share here. Suffice to say, the concept meant that the people in the pews had some agency in matters of the spiritual life and the conduct of the church’s ministry. They are not passive recipients of spiritual ministrations; they are active participants in the ministry. “The prophet-hood and the priesthood of all believers.” Although we weren’t really using that language anymore, I took the concept seriously. I had always wondered: in a faith that values the individual’s spiritual search, the individual’s hard-won personal theology, the individual’s evolving set of spiritual practices—in a faith that values personal experience as a source of truth and as a primary ground for meaning-making and theological reflection—where does any of that find expression in the life of the congregation if the minister preaches every Sunday? This question had been nagging at me ever since I had begun working in congregations in the mid-1990s. The answer wasn’t clear to me and, frankly, I was afraid to ask. I won’t tell you how many times colleagues of mine have said demeaning things about lay-people in the pulpit, but I will tell you that I’ve learned to push back hard when I hear it today. I found an answer to my question when the UUS:E ministerial search committee presented this model of shared worship ministry to me, saying “this is central to who we are,” saying “we want to hear from you, but we also want to hear from each other,” saying “this is a fundamentally democratic way of being church.” I said “yes!” I meant it, and I’ve never looked back. Of course there are many other ways of sharing ministry. This one, admittedly, is big. It’s rare. Professional ministers are trained to lead worship. Lay people, generally speaking, aren’t. How is it even possible? Well, it requires a huge commitment, not to mention a lot of enthusiasm, from lay people. It’s certainly not for every congregation. It works splendidly for UUS:E. It works splendidly for me. Here’s why. I love preaching. I love creating worship. But that has never been all I wanted to do in ministry. A long time ago, before I landed at UUS:E, I wrote a personal mission statement for my ministry, which hasn’t changed much in the nearly 25 years since I first wrote it. “I am a theistic Unitarian Universalist; an aspiring antiracist, feminist, queer ally; a liberal, suburban American minister practicing a modern version of New England’s old ‘congregational way;’ a loving husband and father; and a spiritual leader dedicated to transformative preaching, teaching, healing and social justice ministries.” And precisely because I don’t have to come back every week and create a liturgy for Sunday worship; precisely because I don’t have to come back every week and spend the 10 to 20 hours it takes to create a decent sermon, let alone an excellent sermon, I have time to be very present to our people who are in crisis, who need pastoral care, who need a listening ear. I have time to teach. I have time to meet with visitors and newcomers to the congregation. I have time to supervise our staff. Most importantly for me (although the pastoral care is very important), I can engage in social justice and antiracist organizing in the wider community. I have time to serve on the strategy team of the Greater Hartford Interfaith Action Alliance, and then share that ministry with UUSE members and friends as they participate in our GHIAA core team, on GHIAA issue teams, or in GHIAA trainings and actions. I can serve as a partner with Moral Monday CT and Power Up CT on Black Lives Matter organizing, and then share that participation with members and friends of our congregation. I can serve on the Coordinating Committee of Recovery for All. I can serve as a clergy leader with the Domestic Worker Justice Campaign and the HUSKY for Immigrants Campaign. I can serve as a leader with Equality Connecticut’s new interfaith clergy organization in their effort to maintain and advance the rights of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer and questioning people across the state. Over the last twenty years I have had time to bring Unitarian Universalist principles into the public arena in what I believe is a very potent way, precisely because, most specifically, I share worship ministry, but also pastoral care ministry, administrative ministry, social justice ministry, and many other ministries with the lay people of UUSE. Is it perfect? No. Do we have trouble finding volunteers? Yes, all the time. Do I invite sharing only to be met by crickets filling the summer evening silence as they rub their scrapers together? Yes. Do I fail to respond to lay people who want to share some ministry with me? Absolutely. It takes work, discipline, intentionality, and a tolerance for conflict. We often miss the mark. But on the whole, I have the time in my calendar to fulfill my entire ministerial call, to live out that personal mission of pursuing transformative preaching, teaching, healing and social justice ministry. I have this time because, at the heart of our model, lives a belief in the prophet-hood and priesthood of all believers. I have this time because, at the heart of our model, lives the belief that ministry is never a solo act, that it emerges out of a set of very human relationships, conversations, covenants, love and avenues for connection to all that is holy in our lives. Whether we know it or not, we share ministry with each other. I say it works better if we know it. It works better if we can name all the ways we share ministry, understanding that this is what it means to be in covenantal relationship with one another, understanding that this is how we manifest the principles of our faith, understanding and believing as my dear colleague, the late Hope Johnson said in her meditation we heard earlier, “we are one,” understanding and believing that our capacity to share ministry means everything. Amen and blessed be.

Gathering Music (Mary Bopp) Welcome and Announcements (Martha Larson) Introduction of Service and Speaker (Martha Larson) Centering (Fred Louis) Prelude "Heartsong by Mary Bopp Chalice Lighting and Opening Words "It may be difficult for you to accept that the seed of Buddha is in you, but we all have the capacity for faith, awakening, understanding, and awareness, and that is what is meant by Buddha nature. There is no one who does not have the capacity to be a Buddha." --Thich Nhat Hanh, The Heart of Buddha's Teaching Opening Hymn "This Is My Song" #159 Words: Lloyd Stone; Music: Jean Sibelius Led by Fred Louis This is my song, O God of all the nations, a song of peace for lands afar and mine. This is my home, the country where my heart is; here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine; but other hearts in other lands are beating with hopes and dreams as true and high as mine. My country's skies are bluer than the ocean, and sunlight beams on clover leaf and pine; but other lands have sunlight too, and clover, and skies are everywhere as blue as mine. O hear my song, thou God of all the nations, a song of peace for their land and for mine. Reading: "The Five Remembrances" (Fred Louis) Welcoming Visitors; Joys and Concerns (Martha Larson) Musical Response "Everything Will Be All Right" by Kay Gardner Performed by members of the Manchester Women's Sacred Singing Circle (MWSSC) Everything will be all right Day is day and follows night Everything will be all right Darkness flows into the light. Offering Words (Martha Larson) Offertory Music "Awake" by Mary Bopp Anthem Medley Performed by members of the MWSSC "Be Here Now" by Debbie Christo Now is the only moment, now is the only moment Be in this moment, breathe in this moment Love in this moment, be here now Be here now in this moment "Honor the Divine" by Linda Koehler I honor the divine that's within your soul, Please honor the divine within me. Each of us holds the source of all being When we all see this we shall live in peace "Amazed" by Linda Hirshhorn May I stay amazed, for all of my days At all of the ways of the world's turning Amazed at what I've got not what I've not, All soon forgot in the world's turning. "May I Be an Instrument of Peace" (unknown) May I be an instrument of peace, may I be an instrument of peace. Reflection (Fred Louis) Closing Hymn "We Begin Again in Love" #1037 Words: Robert Eller-Isaacs; Music: Les Kleen Narrator: For remaining silent when a single voice would have made a difference... Congregation sings: We forgive ourselves and each other, we begin again in love. N: For each time that our fears have made us rigid and inaccessible... C: We forgive ourselves and each other, we begin again in love. N: For each time we have struck out in anger without cause... C: We forgive ourselves and each other, we begin again in love. N: For each time that our greed has blinded us to the needs of others... C: We forgive ourselves and each other, we begin again in love. N: For the selfishness that set us apart and alone... C: We forgive ourselves and each other, we begin again in love. N: For falling short of the admonitions of the spirit... C: We forgive ourselves and each other, we begin again in love. N: For losing sight of our unity... C: We forgive ourselves and each other, we begin again in love. N: For those and for so many acts both evident and subtle which have fueled the illusion of separateness... C: We forgive ourselves and each other, we begin again in love. Extinguishing the Chalice and Closing Words (Marth Larson and Fred Louis) Thanks ( Martha Larson) 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. Postlude "May I Be an Instrument of Peace" (unknown) Together - Martha, Fred, MWSSC and Congregation

Gathering Music Benjamin Elzerman, Bagpipes Welcome, Announcements and Centering (Rev. Josh Pawelek) Prelude "Which Side Are You On? by Florence Reece Doug Pease, harmonica Chalice Lighting and Opening Words adaptation of Romans 12: 4-8 by Rev. Josh Pawelek Opening Song #131 "Love Will Guide Us" by Sally Rogers Love will guide us, peace has tried us, hope inside us will lead the way on the road from greed to giving. Love will guide us through the hard night. If you cannot sing like angels, if you cannot speak before thousands, you can give from deep within you. You can change the world with your love. Love will guide us, peace has tried us, hope inside us will lead the way on the road from greed to giving. Love will guide us through the hard night. Remarks from the Emcee, Gymm Morey Song "From Many Different Pathways" by Bob Hewey Poem "Under a Colorless Sky" by Cory Clark Joys and Concerns Offering Offering Music "Twelve Gates to the City" by the Rev. Gary Davis Doug Pease, harmonica; Nancy Madar, guitar Song Original Song (to be announced) "Nick Glomb, guitar and vocals" Song "Summer in the City" by John Sebastian, Mark Sebastian and Steve Boone performed by Dan Thompson and Sandy Johnson Song "This Time Tomorrow" by Brandi Carlile performed by Pat Eaton-Robb "Roseville Fair" by Bill Staines performed by Joe and Nancy Madar Homily "A Bounty of Gifts" Rev. Josh Pawelek Closing Song #1064 "Blue Boat Home" by Peter Mayer led by Ben Elzerman Though below me, I feel no motion standing on these mountains and plains. Far away from the rolling ocean still my dry land heart can say: I've been sailing all my life now, never harbor or port have I known. The wide universe is the ocean I travel, and the earth is my blue boat home. Sun my sail and moon my rudder as I ply the starry sea, leaning over the edge in wonder, casting questions into the deep. Drifting here with my ship's companions, all we kindred pilgrim souls, making our way by the lights of the heavens in our beautiful blue boat home. I give thanks to the waves upholding me, hail the great winds urging me on, greet the infinite sea before me, sing the sky my sailor's song: I was born upon the fathoms, never harbor or port have I known. The wide universe is the ocean I travel, and the earth is my blue boat home. 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. Postlude "Jubilee" by Bill Staines performed by Nancy and Joe Madar

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.