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Gathering Music (Mary Bopp) Welcome and Announcements (Rev. Josh Pawelek) Centering Prelude Chalice Lighting and Opening Words “Queries”  by the Rev. Mark Belletini Opening Hymn #1064 “Blue Boat Home”  Words by Peter Mayer Music by Roland Hugh Prichard, ad. By Peter Mayer 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 up holding me, hail the great winds urging me on, greet the infinite sea before me, sing the sky my sailor’s song: I was born up on 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. Time for All Ages “One Million Trees: A True Story”  by Kristen Balouch Musical Interlude Joys and Concerns Offering The recipient of our April Community Outreach offering is the Inter-Religious Eco-Justice Network, or IREJN, Connecticut’s only faith-based environmental non-profit organization. Their mission is to inspire and equip Connecticut’s religious communities and their spiritual allies to protect our planet through education, engagement, and advocacy. Offering Music “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands” African American spiritual Terri Eickel, vocals Mary Bopp, piano Sermon Earth Day Reflections Terri Eickel Closing Hymn #163 “For the Earth Forever Turning” Words and music by Kim Oler Arr. by Nick Page For the earth forever turning; for the skies, for ev’ry sea; for our lives, for all we cherish, sing we our joyful song of peace. For the mountains, hills, and pastures in their silent majesty; for the stars, for all the heavens, sing we our joyful song of peace. For the sun, for rain and thunder, for the seasons’ harmony, for our lives, for all creation, sing we our joyful praise to Thee. For the world we raise our voices, for the home that gives us birth; in our joy we sing returning home to our bluegreen hills of earth. 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.

The choir sang “In the Morning, Joy,” by the American composer Mark Hayes. This piece is an adaptation of Psalm 30 in the Hebrew scriptures. Christian churches often incorporate Psalm 30 into their Easter liturgies. In English, the relevant excerpt typically sounds like this: O God, you brought up my soul from Sheol, restored me to life from among those gone down to the Pit. Sing praises to God, O you his faithful ones,          and give thanks to his holy name. For his anger is but for a moment;          his favor is for a lifetime. Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning.             Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning.   It’s so important to acknowledge the weeping—that is, the sadness, grief, pain, anger, discomfort, disorientation, disillusionment, disbelief—all those things you may be feeling, either in your private life, your personal life; or in response to events in the life of our nation and our planet. We need to name the weeping clearly and honestly. It’s healthy to do so. We need to accept that all of it may linger through the proverbial night. And that proverbial night may be long. But joy comes with the morning. That’s an Easter message. Joy comes with the morning, and we can help it come as we find little things we can do—little things within our capacity, little actions we can take, support we can provide, comfort we can give, music we can make, love and compassion we can share. We need this Easter message in our lives. No matter how difficult things may get, joy comes with the morning. When I first read this passage from Psalm 30 I was excited that it mentioned the pit. “You brought up my soul from Sheol, restored me to life from among those gone down to the Pit.” There was another mention of a pit in our service this morning. Well, it wasn’t a pit. It was a deep, dark hole. Do you remember it? Where was it? It was part of the story Emmy read— Rabbityness  from the children’s book author and graphic designer Jo Epsom. Rabbit had disappeared, and the other rabbits were upset. All they saw was a deep, dark hole. (A pit.) But when they finally went down into the hole, it wasn’t scary at all. There were Rabbit’s art supplies and musical instruments, all the unrabbity sources of joy Rabbit had been sharing with them. They were sad. They missed Rabbit. But they were able to continue Rabbit’s unrabbity activities, filling the forest with color and music. Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning. **** Today is Easter. As the story goes, after a quick, sham trial, the Roman Empire oversaw the execution of Jesus on Good Friday. His body was placed in a tomb (we might say a pit or a hole) and a stone laid in front of the mouth of the tomb. When Jesus’ friends, sad and grieving, came to retrieve his body two days later, they found the stone rolled away and the tomb empty. At first they were afraid. Later, different people claimed to have encountered Jesus alive. Word of his resurrection spread. Though weeping may linger for the night, joy comes with the morning. **** Friends, I’ve been struggling. I’ve been struggling most immediately with how much to talk about what’s happening in our nation right now in this Easter homily; and just struggling more generally, like many of you, with what’s happening in our nation. But I know colleagues across the country are spending their Easter homilies clearly and honestly naming the weeping. I’m young enough to be able to say I’ve never seen things quite so bad in our country. I’ve never seen such callous disregard for the Constitution of the United States of America, or for the economic well-being of its people, or for the civil rights of its people, or for the rights of states and various institutions—especially schools at all levels—to conduct their affairs in the way they see fit. I’ve never witnessed such blatant trashing of the Fifth Amendment’s due process clause stating that no person shall “be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law.” I’ve never seen people taken off the streets and deported without so much as a hearing. We say his name: Kilmar Ábrego García, but we know he is not the only one who has been denied his Constitutional due process rights. I’ve been struggling with the magnitude of it all. I suppose I’ve been struggling because some days I can’t see my way out of the pit. Some days I can’t go down the hole far enough to find the colors and the musical instruments. Some days the stone is still in place. I  haven’t found the empty tomb. Some days I can’t see the joy that comes in the morning, can’t touch it, taste it, smell it, hold it. But I welcome this Easter celebration. I welcome the Easter story, because it is a story of faith. And when I am struggling, I have learned to lean into faith. Faith that the Easter message is true. Faith that Joy will indeed come with the morning, even if I can’t find it yet. Faith that mystery, magic and miracles are real, and as we find ways to let them enter into our lives, joy comes. Faith that spirit and divinity are real, that there are things in this world that we ought to call sacred, ought to call holy, and as we find ways to let them enter into our lives, joy comes. Faith that a great multitude of people will rise up in response to injustice, will rise up in response to oppression, will rise up in response to exclusion, will rise up in response to cruelty, will rise up in response to hatred, will rise up in response to inhumanity; and with the uprising joy will come. Faith that resurrection is real, that we can actually see it. That we can see it in all the ways our deceased love-ones live on in our lives, the ways they speak to us in signs we never expected to read; the ways their love continues to bless us and the world. We see it every year in springtime when the earth is new and fresh and green. We see it, as the poet E.E. Cummings says, in the leaping greenly spirits of trees / and a blue true dream of sky; and [in] everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes.” As we recognize the truth of resurrection in all these dimensions, joy comes. I am struggling. I know many of you are struggling. Right now it is time for faith in this very simple Easter morning message. Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning. Amen and blessed be.

Gathering Music "Egg Hunt" "Bunny Burrow" by Lilly Coleman Welcome (Emmy Galbraith) Announcements (Rev. Josh Pawelek) Centering Musical Invocation "Shanti" by Helen Yeomans UUSE Choir Chalice Lighting and Opening Words "i thank You God for most this amazing day" by E. E. Cummings 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! Story "Rabbityness" by Jo Empson Musical Interlude Joys and Concerns Musical Interlude Offering The recipient of our April Community Outreach offering is the Inter-Religious Eco-Justice Network, or IREJN, Connecticut's only faith-based environmental non-profit organization. Their mission is to inspire and equip Connecticut's religious communities and their spiritual allies to protect our planet through education, engagement and advocacy. Offering Music "Pavane" by Morton Gould Dorothy Bognar, Mary Bopp, pianos Music "In the Morning, Joy" by Mark Hayes UUSE Choir "Lead With Love" by Melanie DeMore UUSE Choir Homily "In the Morning, Joy" Rev. Josh Pawelek Closing Hymn #61 "Lo, the Earth Awakes Again" Lo, the earth awakes again -- Alleluia! From the winter's bond and pain. Alleluia! Bring we leaf and flower and spray -- Alleluia! to adorn this happy day Alleluia! Once again the word comes true, Alleluia! All the earth shall be made new. Alleluia! Now the dark, cold days are o'er, Alleluia! Spring and gladness are before. Alleluia! Change, then, mourning into praise, Alleluia! And, for dirges, anthems raise. Alleluia! How our spirits soar and sing, Alleluia! How our hearts leap with the spring! Alleluia! Music "Alleluia, Alleluia" by Roger Emerson UUSE Choir 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.

02/19/23 I am slightly embarrassed. My intention this morning was—and still is—to continue reflecting on the proposed changes to Article 2 of the Unitarian Universalist Association (UUA) bylaws, which I began in my sermon on January 22nd. I’ll explain my embarrassment, but first, as a reminder, Article 2 is the section of the bylaws that tells the world, in writing, who we are as a religious people. It proclaims to the world, in writing , the center of our faith. It currently lists the seven Unitarian Universalist principles and the six sources of our living tradition. These lists—the principles and the sources—will go away, in writing , if the new version of Article 2 is accepted by the UUA General Assembly over the course of two years of voting. As an aside, I emphasize in writing , because while what we say in writing about who we are matters immensely (which is why I continue to talk about it), I firmly believe the world learns most about who we are, not by what we say about ourselves in writing , but by how we live, how we engage the world. As the 19th-century Transcendentalist Unitarian minister, Theodore Parker once prayed: Be ours a religion which, like / sunshine, goes everywhere; / its temple, all space; its shrine, the good heart; its creed, all truth; its ritual, works of love; its profession of faith, divine living. [1] In religious short-hand, we might say deeds, not creeds . I am embarrassed because when I spoke about the proposed new Article 2 last month, I was responding to a rough draft proposal originally published last fall. What I understood last fall is that the Article 2 Commission that produced that rough draft was holding a series of feedback sessions in November and December. Some of you attended those sessions. What I did not quite understand is that the Commissioners would use the feedback they received in those sessions to create a final version of their proposal to submit to the UUA Board of Trustees for its mid-January meeting. When I spoke about Article 2 a month ago, I was completely unaware of the final version, which has some significant differences from the rough draft. That’s why I am embarrassed. I was speaking to you about already outdated material. I hope and trust you will forgive me. [To read the final draft of the Article 2 Commission’s report, click here .] Love is our ministry theme for February, so I want to talk about the place of love in the proposed new Article 2. However, before I do, it feels really important to name that quite a few of you have shared reactions to and concerns about the Article 2 proposal. I don’t have the space to address all those reactions and concerns here—and I don’t necessarily think that’s my role—but I do want to say there will be opportunities for us to discuss the Article 2 proposal as a congregation. Carrie Kocher currently holds the role of UUS:E Denominational Affairs chairperson. Carrie, I’m pretty sure, accepted the nomination for that role, without knowing (because who knew?) that Article 2 would be up for debate this year. Carrie, like me, is receiving a lot of the comments, reactions, concerns, etc. Carrie and I are committed to organizing three UUS:E public forums on Article 2 proposal, likely in May. The purpose of those forums is for Carrie and I, and any other UUS:E delegates to the General Assembly, to develop a good sense of how you want your delegates to vote regarding Article 2 and the likely hundreds of amendments that delegates will be proposing during the General Assembly. Among those of you who’ve offered comments, observations, concerns, I want to thank in particular Malcolm and Susan Barlow, Carol Lacoss, Judy Durham, Lorry King, Fred Wildes, Carrie Kocher and Sudha. Many others have commented, but I want to personally acknowledge these eight. Their comments have gone into depth and are leading me to deepen and nuance my own assessment of the proposal. We’ve talked about everything from the wordiness of and lack of poetry in the proposal; to observations that there is too much emphasis on antiracism and anti-oppression identity and practice at the expense of promoting a more holistic religious setting for spiritual searching, experience and growth; to concerns that the rough draft makes no reference to democratic processes and what that implies for the future of our faith; to fears that with this proposal the UUA is actually attempting to usurp power from the congregations. There’s a lot to talk about. There’s a lot out there on the internet, some legitimate some not so legitimate. There’s a lot of anxiety in the system, so to speak. There are camps forming within Unitarian Universalism, which is problematic, though to some degree predictable and I don’t believe fatal. I have complete faith that the UUA’s democratic, General Assembly process, over the next two years, will produce the best final new Article 2 possible. Our ministry theme for February is love. I feel the most important and essential change the proposed Article 2 makes is the way it centers love as the preeminent value of Unitarian Universalism. My favorite sentence from the rough draft proposal is “Love is the enduring force that holds us together.” I kept repeating those words when I preached about this a month ago. Now I’m upset. That language was removed from the final version. The final version says “love is the power that holds us together and is at the center of our shared values.” It’s a clunky sentence. “Enduring” is such a beautiful, poetic word. Love is the enduring force that holds us together. I miss it already. Despite that change, something else emerged out of those national feedback sessions that moves me deeply. Vivian Carlson focused on this last Sunday in her reflections on love. The final version of the proposed new Article 2 adds this statement: “We are accountable to one another for doing the work of living our shared values through the spiritual discipline of Love.” As an aside, I wish the statement didn’t use the phrase “doing the work.” Its jargony. It adds no value to the sentence. “We are accountable to one another for living our shared values through the spiritual discipline of love.” The spiritual discipline of love. Framing love as a discipline brings it out of the realm of pure feeling or mere sentiment, out of the realm of Hallmark and Valentine’s Day, and more importantly, out of the realm of consumer capitalism, asking: what is the practice of love? How do we manifest love in the world? How do me make love real, impactful, healing, transformative? Last week Vivian asked the question this way: “how do we keep our hearts open to the source of love when others are difficult, hurtful, hateful?” She reminded us that “the spiritual discipline of love calls us to understand that many who have been hurt, met with hatred and violence often know only how to share the same with others. They have not been held in the heart of another. They do not know the experience of love.” The spiritual discipline of love attunes us to the knowledge that we typically don’t know about a person’s life circumstances, that we typically don’t know about the ways they have or are suffering, about what burdens they are carrying, about how their day is going. I told the story earlier from my colleague, Rev. Jo VonRue, about her fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Fong. As a child Rev. VonRue was poor, at times homeless, often wore dirty clothes that didn’t smell good, struggled in school and was the target of bullying. Though she was terrified of Mrs. Fong, who tolerated no shenanigans, she says “she was never unkind towards me.” One day Mrs. Fong pulled her aside and asked if she knew what deodorant is. She was mortified. However, she writes, “when I was recently asked about a time when someone stuck their neck out for me, Mrs. Fong was the first person I thought of. It’s funny how perspective changes over time: something that once seemed mortifying now strikes me as a gesture of caring; of love.” I don’t want to speculate on Mrs. Fong’s motivations. She probably woudn’t say she was holding herself accountable for living her values through the spiritual discipline of love. But who knows? Maybe she was conducting her life and her teaching in accordance with the values of a faith community. Maybe she just had a wonderfully caring heart and knew what needed to be said in that moment, even if it would be difficult for the child to hear. I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. What matters is that opportunities to practice love abound. They are everywhere. They meet us every day. A Unitarian Universalist spiritual discipline of love, in my mind, orients us to these opportunities, sensitizes, alerts, attunes us to these opportunities, helps us not pass by without noticing them, helps us respond to them as best we can. A spiritual discipline of love helps us respond skillfully when, as Vivian challenges us, others are difficult, hurtful, hateful. A spiritual discipline of love helps us respond skillfully, as Rev. VonRue challenges us, in “the messy, vulnerable places.” A spiritual discipline of love helps us respond to the neighbor in crisis, the neighbor who is sinking down, as the hymn says, the neighbor facing homelessness, the neighbor whose anxiety will not subside, the neighbor whose depression keeps deepening despite treatment, the neighbor who is lonely, the neighbor whose child is struggling, the neighbor who cannot shake their addiction, the neighbor for whom the treatment did not work, the neighbor who has just lost their beloved, the health care worker neighbor or the teacher neighbor who are burned out and exhausted, the immigrant neighbor who cannot access health care to treat a condition that could be life threatening, the prisoner neighbor preparing for re-entry, the survivor neighbor of the earthquake who has lost everything and everyone, the child neighbor who needs deodorant. Indeed, a spiritual discipline of love calls us back to that ancient, moral commandment to love neighbor as self; the commandment, in Vivian’s language, to hold others in our hearts, even those who are hurtful and hateful. I don’t know what this spiritual discipline of love looks like, not yet. But I do look forward to figuring it out, exploring, experimenting, testing, practicing … with you. And assuming some version of this love-centered UUA Article 2 is adopted next year, I already have an elevator speech ready to go. When people ask me to explain Unitarian Universalism, I will tell them: It’s the practice of the spiritual discipline of love. Amen and blessed be. [1] Parker, Theodore, “Be Ours a Religion,” Singing the Living Tradition (Boston: UUA and Beacon Press, 1993) #683.

Gathering Music (Mary Bopp) Welcome and Announcements (Gina Campellone) Centering Prelude "Joy Variations" George Frideric Handel and Mary Bopp Chalice Lighting and Opening Words (Paula Baker) "A Chalice of Joy" by Rev. Dr. Julia Corbett-Hemeyer Introducing the Service Opening Song "Joy to the World" Written by Hoyt Axton Performed by Kate Howard-Bender, guitar and vocals Time for All Ages "Where We Find Joy" (A poem created and inspired by members of the Children & Youth Ministry elementary class: Vera, Charlie, Lonnie, Teddy, Warren, Spencer, Rosemary, Josie, Oliver and Hazel) Welcoming Visitors and Joys & Concerns Musical Interlude Offering Each Sunday, we dedicate half of the unallocated collections from our offertory to organizations that are working to improve people's lives in the Manchester area. This month we have selected the Interreligious Eco-Justice Network, a Connecticut only faith-based environmental non-profit organization whose mission is to inspire and equip Connecticut's religious communities and their spiritual allies to protect our planet through education, engagement and advocacy. Offering Music "Rustle of Spring" Written by Christian Sinding Performed by Mary Bopp, piano First Reflection (Sandy Karosi) "A Bargain" Poem by Sherry Redding Second Reflection (Sudha) "Kana" Poem by Sudha Third Reflection (Lisa Sementilli) "At Albany Bulb With Elaine" Poem by Alison Luterman Closing Hymn #1010 "We Give Thanks" Written by Wendy Luella Perkins Oh we give thanks for this precious day For all gathered here and those far away. For this time we share with love and care Oh we give thanks for this precious da y. Extinguishing the Chalice and Closing Words 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. --- Please enjoy this list of favorite poems, submitted by members and friends of UUSE! “Song of the Rider” Federico Garcia Lorca (Mike Baxter) “Illumination” Anthony Hecht (June Bray) “The Death of the Hired Man” Robert Frost (Fred Wildes) “These I Can Promise” Mark Twain (Dan Covino) “I Taste a Liquor Never Brewed” Emily Dickinson (Mary Heaney) “I thank You God for most this amazing day” e.e.cummings (Nancy Simonds) & (Christine Yantz) “Love is an Offering” Lance Ernest (Fay Peters) “Kindness” Naomi Shihab Nye (Meghan MacRae) “When You Are Old” William Butler Yeats (David Garnes) “Weathering” Fleur Adcock (Ginny Molleur) “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird” Wallace Stevens (Dan Thompson) “Trees” Joyce Kilmer (Sharon Gresk) “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” Robert Frost (Laurie Semprebon) “No Man is an Island” John Donne (Dorothy Bognar) “Much Madness is Divinest Sense” Emily Dickinson (Kate Howard-Bender) “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” TS Eliot (Kate Howard-Bender) “Wild Geese” Mary Oliver (Chloe Campellone) “Initiation II” Nina Bogin (Paula Baker) “For Sweet Honey In The Rock” Sonia Sanchez (Rev. Josh Pawelek) “First Lesson” Philip Booth (Gina Campellone) “The Peace of Wild Things” Wendell Berry (Cyndi Krupa) “The Writer” Richard Wilbur (Mary Ellen Vigeant)

Grace I begin with a heart felt thank you  to Mary Bopp and all the musicians who’ve brought us “Amazing Grace” in so many variations this morning. Mary first proposed a service centered around this beloved hymn late last year. I thought it was a great idea, so we started looking for a date. Perhaps we should have wondered if it was wise to offer a big music service the Sunday before our big, annual Easter music service. We didn’t. So you’re encountering a lot of music today and much more beautiful music next Sunday. I hope it all adds to a sense of celebration and wonder for you at this auspicious time of year—this time when spring arrives, when life is fresh and new and green, when eggs and bunnies become visible signs of nature’s enduring and vital creativity, when angels pass over, when sea waters part, when temples are cleansed, when we hear “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do,” when stones roll away from the mouths of tombs amidst cries of “He is risen.” I hope it all brings you joy! My task is to glean and share spiritual insights in response to “Amazing Grace”—a hymn Unitarian Universalists generally and genuinely enjoy singing—it’s easy, it’s familiar. But let’s be honest: we balk at the implied theological quid pro quo , the spiritual transaction. Simply stated, in exchange for our heartfelt belief, God, through grace, reaches into our lives and saves us. “How precious did that grace appear, the hour I first believed!” The implication is that we are born sinful, that we are wretches, and something needs to change in us—we need to confess our sins and proclaim our belief; only then is God willing to extend salvific grace to us. Our Universalist forebears would object. I’m generalizing, but they would argue essentially that God’s love, and by extension God’s grace, is every human being’s birthright. It’s not the hour we first believe. It’s the moment of our birth, the moment of our entry into the world, and nothing we do can take that love from us. Just for fun, I tried writing a few verses of “Amazing Grace” with a more Universalist grounding.   Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that sang with my first breath. It sings when I’m lost, it sings when I’m found. It will sing to me even in death.   ‘Twas grace with me in times of fear, in times of pain and strife. How precious has that grace appeared each moment of my life.   Grace comes with me,’ cross roiling seas Wherever I may roam Whatever dangers I may face With grace I’m ever home.   Amazing Grace how sweet the sound that called me into the world. Though fear besets me often these days, My spirit remains unfurled.   Amazing Grace how sweet the sound That sang to me at my birth God’s gifts endure in each of our lives Let’s do some good on this earth.   They need some work, but I hope the theological difference makes sense. Here’s the rub: that more traditional theology that demands that we recognize the errors of our ways, confess our sins, plead with God for forgiveness, turn toward and believe in that God who has the power to save us not just in this life but for eternity—that theology makes for a compelling story. I once was lost, but now am found—that’s Moses at the burning bush, Paul on the road to Damascus. It’s every person Jesus heals in the gospel stories: “Your faith has set you free.” It’s Muhammad hearing the angel Gabriel’s voice: “Read!” It’s not quite the Buddha’s story of coming to enlightenment, but there’s some overlap. Think of every book or film you love. How often is the main character lost in some way—broken, wounded, sick, isolated, wandering, wayward, confused, addicted, in pain? Then something happens that sets their life on a new path, that gives them a sense of purpose and resolve, that brings them home … that saves them. I think this is why a certain story about the author of “Amazing Grace,” John Newton, persists in our culture even though we know it isn’t true. Here’s how Newton biographer, Christine Schaub , tells the story, which she calls a myth: In March of 1748, “a young and successful John Newton captains yet another slave ship through the Middle Passage, a powerful storm comes up and Newton strikes a bargain with God—save their lives and he'll set all the captives free. God calms the sea, Newton converts to Christianity on the spot and holds up his end of the deal by not only freeing his slaves, but giving up the slave trade forever. He heads back to England, becomes a preacher and spends the rest of his life writing famous songs, like ‘Amazing Grace.’” It’s a powerful, compelling, transformational, lightning-bolt-from-the-sky story. I once was lost, but now am found. The story of what actually happened is fine, just not as compelling. Newton’s actual transformation took 35 years to come to its full fruition. Schaub says that Newton was sailing not as a captain but “as a passenger on a ship carrying ivory, gold, beeswax...and not a single slave.” It  was  March of 1748. The ship  was  caught in a storm. Newton may have prayed. The ship did not sink. It also did not reverse course. Some accounts say that given the damage to the boat they were lucky to make it to Ireland. It  was  a profound moment in Newton’s life. He looked back on it as the moment of his conversion to Christianity, but his life did not change abruptly. Schaub says it was only after this experience that Newton started working in the slave trade, eventually becoming a slave ship captain. And she says he left slaving due to illness, not conscience. He was ordained as a priest in the Church of England in the mid-1760s. He wrote the original words to “Amazing Grace” in the early 1770s. And it was not until the early 1780s that he became outspoken about the abolition of slavery, 35 years after the storm. If you’re interested in learning more about Newton’s story, there’s a great article by the music critic and columnist Ian McCann called “Amazing Grace: The Life of a Song,”  which references Newton being pressed into the Royal Navy in 1744, then being abandoned in West Africa because he annoyed the crew so much, and then actually being enslaved himself for a few years before being rescued. According to McCann’s research, it was the rescue ship that ran into that fateful storm. I also recommend an article entitled “The Slaver: From Disgrace to Amazing Grace” in Leben: The Journal of Reformation Life ,  which traces this history in even more detail. “Amazing Grace” was Newton’s attempt, many years later, to repent for his participation in the slave trade. It was set to music more than 20 times before it settled on the melody of the folk song “New Britain” in 1835, 10 years after his death. It didn’t catch on in England, but it quickly gained popularity in the United States. Here’s what I think. Regardless of theology, and regardless of what makes for a compelling story, it is very human to feel unfinished. By unfinished I don’t mean lost, though sometimes we are lost and we need to find ourselves, find our path, find our way. I certainly don’t mean sinful, though sometimes we do hurt others and need to make amends, to atone, to say “I’m sorry,” to turn the ship around. And I don’t mean broken, though sometimes we need healing. By unfinished I mean a feeling that there could be something more in our lives, something more to accomplish, some goal, some aim, some purpose we want to achieve, some good we want to make happen on this earth. By unfinished I mean a longing, a hunger, a yearning, even a restlessness. It may be there is some aspect of ourselves we feel needs improvement: something about the way we move through the world, the way we relate to others, the way we live, the way we experience ourselves internally, the way others experience us—something about us that could be different, could be more developed, could feel more complete, more resolved, more finished. I suspect if I asked you to contemplate for a moment some aspect or feature of your life that feels unfinished, some part of you you’re working on, some improvement you aspire to make, it won’t take long for you to come up with a few examples. In my experience, everyone is working on something or, in the very least, is aware of something they ought to be working on. Even people at the very end of their lives will report feeling unfinished in some way, perhaps identifying some work they’d like to see carried on after their death. There’s nothing tragic about this feeling at the end of life. I’m not sure anyone is ever truly finished. Again, I think it’s very human to feel unfinished. Stories—and theologies—that give us the answer to our longing in a flash—a burning bush, a blinding light, a leper healed, a ship saved at sea, a soul at sea saved—are very satisfying, very moving, and often quite inspirational. Certainly we need inspirational stories in our lives. But in truth those flashes, those burning bushes, those ships saved at sea, those moments of lightning-bolt-from-heaven-transformation are very, very rare. More often than not, change comes slowly, incrementally, in fits and starts. Sometimes we don’t even realize we’re changing until we’re in a position to reflect on our lives and realize we aren’t who we used to be. But there’s still more to do. For me, “Amazing Grace” is aspirational and cyclical. I sing it knowing each of us is, in fact, unfinished, and to some extent we always will be. The song expresses a deep and very natural longing: to be found when we are lost, to be healed when we are ill, to be saved when we are in danger, to be comforted in our fear, to be held in our grief, to be made whole in the midst of our brokenness. And these experiences cycle through our lives. We aren’t saved once into a perfect existence. We are saved again and again and again in a multitude of different ways. So I’m not waiting for God to accept my application for grace and then reach in to my life to save me. I don’t believe that way. I’m a Universalist. I say a divine love lives at the heart of creation and bestows unconditional grace on every living creature on this planet. In my view, the central task of our spiritual lives is not to receive this grace in our hour of greatest need, but to remember every day that it is already with us, already within us; and we can respond with gratitude, with creativity, with care for others, with care for the world, indeed, with a deep and abiding love. The challenge is that there are infinite ways to respond. Perhaps that’s the reason we never quite feel finished. No life is long enough to respond fully to this amazing grace. But with the life we have, we try. Amazing Grace how sweet this gift My guide along the way In response, I strive to love  Each and every day. Amen and blessed be.

Gathering Music (Mary Bopp) Welcome and Announcements (Rev. Josh Pawelek) Centering Prelude "Amazing Grace" Virginia Harmony, 1831 Eric Rosenberg, Saxophone Chalice Lighting and Opening Words Excerpt from The Life of John Newton by Richard Cecil Opening Hymn #205 "Amazing Grace" Words by John Newton Set to the tune of "Gift of Love," traditional English folk melody Amazing grace! How sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me! I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now, but now I see. 'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears, my fears relieved; how precious did that grace appear the hour I first, I first believed! Through many dangers, toils and snares, through these I have already come; 'tis grace that brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead, will lead me home. Time for All Ages Musical Meditation Joys and Concerns Music "Meditation on Amazing Grace" Dorothy Bognar, piano Offering The recipient of our April Community Outreach offering is the Inter-Religious Eco-Justice Network, or IREJN, Connecticut's only faith-based environmental non-profit organization. Their mission is to inspire and equip Connecticut's religious communities and their spiritual allies to protect our planet through education, engagement, and advocacy. Offering Music "Amazing Grace" music: "Rising Sun Blues" Sandy Johnson, vocals; Mary Bopp, piano Sermon "Not What I Used to Be" Rev. Josh Pawelek Closing Hymn #205 "Amazing Grace" Words by John Newton Music: Virginia Harmony, 1831 Amazing grace! How sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me! I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see. 'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved; how precious did that grace appear the hour I first believed! Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come; 'tis grace that brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home. When we've been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun, we've no less days to sing God's praise than when we'd first begun. 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, Announcements and Centering (Martha Larson) Prelude Chalice Lighting and Opening Words (by William F. Schulz) Come into this place of peace and let its silence heal your spirit; Come into this place of memory and let its history warm your soul; Come into this place of prophecy and power and let its vision change your heart Introduction to the Service (Stacey Musulin) Opening Hymn #131 "Love Will Guide Us" Words by Sally Rogers Music: Traditional, arr. by Betty A. Wylder 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. Time for All Ages "A Bike Like Sergio's" by Maribeth Boelts illustrated by Noah Z. Jones Musical Interlude Welcoming Visitors, Joys and Concerns Musical Interlude Prayer (by Rev. Marta I Valentin) ... Spirit of this World and Beyond we strive to keep conscious our interconnections, our interdependence, our trust in one another as human beings ... In truth and with compassion for we know that what we send out to the universe is what will return ... Offertory Sermon (Stacey Musulin) Closing Hymn #293 "O Star of Truth" Words: Minot Judson Savage Music: Finnish melody, adapt. by David Evans O star of truth, downshining through clouds of doubt and fear, I ask beneath thy guidance my pathway may appear; however long the journey, however hard it be, though I be lone and weary, lead on, I follow thee. I know thy blessed radiance can never lead astray, though ancient creed and custom may point another way; or through the untrod desert, or over trackless sea, though I be lone and weary, lead on, I follow thee. Extinguishing the Chalice and Closing Words 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.

A Conversation on CT's Fiscal Roadblocks with House Speaker Matt Ritter, joined by members of the Hartford Legislative Delegation A GHIAA and CT For All event to compel policy change on CT's path to passing a budget that invests in community needs. Tuesday, April 8, 6:00-7:30 pm Immanuel Congregational Church, 10 Woodland St., Hartford ASL & Spanish interpretation provided Please register here We are grateful for the collaboration between Immanuel Congregational Church, Asylum Hill Congregational Church, GHIAA, and CT for All in organizing this event

Gathering Music Welcome and Announcements Centering Prelude Chalice Lighting and Opening Words “On the Brink”  By the Rev. Leslie Takahashi Opening Hymn #131 “Love Will Guide Us” Words by Sally Rogers Music: traditional, arr. By Betty A. Wylder 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. Time for All Ages “Love”  by Matt de la Pena illustrations by Loren Long    Musical Interlude Joys and Concerns Musical Interlude Offering Mindful that March is Women's History Month, the recipient of our community outreach offering is the CT Alliance to End Sexual Violence. Their mission is to create communities free of sexual violence and to provide culturally affirming, trauma-informed advocacy, prevention, and intervention services centered on the voices of survivors.  Offering Music “Love’s in Need of Love Today”  By Stevie Wonder Will Alexon, vocals Sermon “Love Will Guide Us” By the Rev. Carolyn Patierno Closing Hymn #34 “Though I May Speak With Bravest Fire” Words by Hal Hopson Music traditional English melody, arr. By Hal Hopson 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.

Rev. Josh's first drum kit (now collecting dust in the basement) Our March ministry theme is trust. This morning I want to share lessons about trust I learned playing in rock bands from age 12 to age 35 (with the occasional reunion show up until about age 40). As many of you know, I was a drummer (still am I suppose, but I play rather infrequently). As a drummer I was always part of the rhythm section. Although I had to endure many drummer jokes over the years, I came to love being part of the rhythm section. It became a point of pride for me. The rhythm section doesn’t–or at least shouldn’t–occupy the limelight. The rhythm section isn’t the front-person, isn’t the lead singer, the lead guitarist or any other soloists. The rhythm section isn’t the star of the show. Music critics typically don’t write about the rhythm section. But the rhythm section matters. The bass, drums and guitar (and sometimes the keyboard) provide the foundation that allows the star, or stars, to shine. If you can’t trust the rhythm section to provide that foundation, the music falls apart. In this week’s  announcement for this service, I asked, “What does it mean to be part of a trustworthy rhythm section? What does it mean to trust the rhythm section? And more to the point, how’s your  rhythm section? I offer the rhythm section  as a potent metaphor for reflecting on the quality and depth of our spiritual lives, individually and collectively. How’s your rhythm section?  I started taking drums lessons at the Neighborhood Music School (NMS) in New Haven at age 9. My parents bought me my first drum set at age 11–hat drum set is set up in my basement to this day. I organized my first jam session with friends from the music school at age 12. At that time we were enamored with blazing guitar solos, like Eddie Van Halen’s 1978 masterpiece, “Eruption.” We were enthralled with male heavy metal singers who could reach amazingly high notes yet still sounded ragged, raw and, well, manly (Ozzy Osborne of Black Sabbath, Steve Tyler of Aerosmith, Freddy Mercury of Queen, Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin, and Ronnie James Dio who bounced around from band to band all come to mind). We were captivated by the out-of-this-world drum solos like John Bonham on Led Zeppelin’s performance of the song  “Moby Dick,” Keith Moon’s iconic live drum solos on the Who’s “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” and anything Neal Peart of Rush ever did. We were drawn to the grand, bombastic musical statements. My father kept suggesting the Beatles and Simon and Garfunkel, but we were drawn to what we thought was virtuosity–the unbelievably complicated patterns– how do they do that? --the lightning fast double picking, sometimes with two guitars playing in harmony. We were drawn to the glitz and the glam, the over-the-top outfits–eventually the spandex pants and the big, puffy hair of the 1980s. It all blew our young minds.  It was always the big solo or the singer that caught our attention. Never once did we wonder what the rhythm section was doing. Never once did we identify with, let alone idolize the rhythm section. When we played as kids, we always tried to do what we thought made rock ‘n’ roll great. So, on every song we learned, we added big drum fills and long guitar solos and even bass solos. I can still remember my mother, trying to be supportive, but wondering, ‘which part of this is the actual song?’ All she heard was a wall of bombastic, unrelenting sound, no part of it really connected to any other part of it. We were livin’ the late 1970s suburban middle school white boy rock ‘n’ roll dream! Eventually I grew out of it. I kept playing. I played in orchestras and wind ensembles. I played in folk groups and a steel drum band. I played bebop, swing, and fusion jazz (never well). I listened to Motown, funk, blues and R&B. I went through  a gospel phase. I studied with a variety of teachers over the years, and attended a few master classes with famous drummers. In college I took ethnomusicology and world music classes. I took a class on the history of African American music with the trumpet player Donald Byrd who was a visiting faculty member during my junior year. But I never lost my first musical love which was rock music. After college I moved to Boston with my brother and a close friend we’d been playing with since high school to pursue our dream of becoming rock stars.  I worked at it for ten years. I can’t say I loved every minute of it, but I don’t regret it for a minute either. We had some  of what it takes to be a successful band, but we didn’t have all  of what it takes, and we eventually moved on to other pursuits. What was different in those later music-making years, compared to my teenage music-making years, was the lack of drum solos and big fills and complicated, fancy beats. In those later years, what mattered to me was the rhythm section–bass, drums, guitar. Virtuosity had nothing to do with it. The point was to lay down a solid foundation so the singer could sing the song. The point was to keep the back-beat simple and solid–2 & 4, 2 & 4, 2 & 4; not to fill up all the space with splashy drum licks–but to leave space so the music could breathe, so the singer, the melody, the words, the other instruments had room to improvise, to create, to emote, to shine. Are the bass and drums in sync? That was our question. Are they playing just a notch behind the beat – in the pocket, as they say – so the tempo doesn’t rush, so the music feels tight and solid, but also relaxed and flowing? If the rhythm isn’t solid, if it doesn’t feel right, the rest of the band finds it difficult to play well. A good rhythm section is the bedrock, the ground, the root, the base, the footing, the support, the source.  Over the years, it became a point of pride for me to be the kind of drummer who understood that ultimately the music wasn’t about me and how impressive my drum skills were. Instead, I had a role to play in support of the music, Distinct from the people we idolized as kids, I learned musical humility. I learned to literally lay it back . I learned to get out of the way, because a busy drummer can really clog up a song. I learned to focus on how the music felt. I learned to listen–really listen–to the other players in the rhythm section. We learned to listen to each other, to feel the music together, so that whatever song we were playing would sound as compelling as possible, so that the song itself would shine.  And all along–though we never described it this way–we were learning to trust each other. If the band trusts the drummer – that is, if they’re not worried about the drummer speeding up or slowing down, or the drummer playing too loudly or too softly, or the drummer just being off in their own world and not deeply listening to the other players– if they’re not worried, they will play better. They will be more spontaneous, more creative. During those years I would get calls to do shows or recording sessions with other bands.  I would learn their music, then go to the rehearsal before the show or the session. At the beginning of the rehearsal there was always a moment when I could tell the band was wondering, can this guy do what we need him to do?  I would lay down that solid foundation. I would lock in with the bass player. And very soon I would sense the other players starting to relax, starting to groove, starting to soar, starting to trust. You have to trust your rhythm section.  The rhythm section makes the song shine. For a moment, I invite you to contemplate your life’s song, the melody your heart sings. By that I mean a number of things:  your identity–who you are in the world, the various roles you play;  your passions–the work you love, the activities that feed you, the causes and communities that call to you;  all the ways in which you are creative;  all the ways in which you are physically active. Contemplate for a moment the song your life sings.  It’s a beautiful song, yes? Now, as you contemplate that song, let me ask you, how’s your rhythm section? How’s your foundation–your bedrock, your grounding, your sense of rootedness, your footing, your sources of support, your sources of stability and resilience?  Beneath your life’s song, are the bass and drums in sync? Are they listening to each other? Are they laying it back, just behind the beat, so you can relax, so you can sink and settle into the music and sing your life’s song however you feel compelled to sing at any given moment? Do you trust your rhythm section?  When I think of my rhythm section, I think of my relationships and connections. My connections to family and friends who support me and on whom I can count when I’m feeling down or not quite sure of myself. I think of my connections to colleagues–both Unitarian Universalist and those of other faiths–who support me in my professional life and with whom I work for a more just community. I think of this Unitarian Universalist congregation, this beloved community, that has given so much to me over so many years, has supported me, has trusted me. I hope and trust this congregation is in your rhythm section! I also think of my connections to the natural world, to the earth, to the changing seasons that ground me, that root me, that remind me it’s usually not about me, that remind me to listen, to leave space, to stay steady, to feel, to relax, to sink down, to settle in. I think of my connections to spirit, which moves and flows within us and among us, and offers its own beautiful rhythms.  When I began my seminary studies I was still playing in bands. I remember the professors and teaching assistants were always inviting us to engage in theological reflection. How is God acting in this moment? What is God doing in this moment? How is God moving in this moment?  Having always considered myself an atheist, these questions were unfamiliar to me. At first I didn’t know how to answer them, which became the reason–which many people report in seminary–I felt like a fraud, like I really didn’t belong there. How is God moving in this moment? How would I know? But I stayed with the questions, and eventually had the insight to turn to what I knew. And I knew that when the rhythm section is humming, when the bass and drums are in sync, when the players are listening to each other, when they leave sufficient space, the music shines. I decided that’s how God shows up in my life: in the rhythm section.  Indeed, all life is rhythm: movement following rest, following movement; sound following silence following sound; beating heart, pumping blood, breath in and out, in and out, in and out. There’s a reason the first instruments were drums.  All life is rhythm: Day into night, winter into spring into summer into fall; the cycling of planets, stars, galaxies and the universe itself.             How’s your rhythm section? Are your bass and drums in sync? Are they listening to each other, lining up a little behind the beat? Are they so solid your melody can soar?              How’s your rhythm section, that endless pulsation, that steady foundation? Can you trust it enough to let go and belt out your song, create your art, live your life?             All life is rhythm. Let us learn to trust the rhythm.             Amen and blessed be.

Gathering Music Performer: Meetinghouse Welcome and Announcements Prelude "Find Your People" By Drew Holcomb Performer: Meetinghouse Chalice Lighting and Opening Words "All Life is a Rhythm" By Rev. Josh Pawelek Opening Song #1009 "Meditation on Breathing" By Sarah Dann Jones Time for All Ages Musical Response "Find Your People" reprise By Drew Holcomb Performer: Meetinghouse Joys and Concerns Musical Response "Find Your People" reprise By Drew Holcomb Performer: Meetinghouse Offering Mindful that March is Women's History Month, the recipient of our community outreach offering is the CT Alliance to End Sexual Violence. Their mission is to create communities free of sexual violence and to provide culturally affirming, trauma-informed advocacy, prevention, and intervention services centered on the voices of survivors. Offering Music "Forgiveness" By Patty Griffin Performer: Meetinghouse Sermon "How's Your Rhythm Section? A Meditation on Trust" Rev. Josh Pawelek Closing Song "Give Me Love" By George Harrison Performer: Meetinghouse 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.