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Gathering Music (Mary Bopp) Welcome (Emmy Galbraith) Announcements (Rev. Josh Pawelek) Centering (Meadow Bornhorst) Prelude “Though I May Speak With Bravest Fire”  Traditional English Melody Dan Thompson Chalice Lighting and Opening Words  Excerpt from a letter to a young artist ʻAbdu'l-Bahá spoken by Dean Gonzalez Opening Hymn “Spirit of Life” By Carolyn McDade 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. Time for All Ages Musical Meditation Joys and Concerns Musical Meditation Offering Trans Voice and Visibility-365 (TV-365) is a ministry dedicated to uplifting and supporting the well-being of transgender individuals in Connecticut by providing basic human needs, information and referral, service coordination and support to individuals.  This ministry also works to support and collaborate with relevant support groups and service providers. Our emphasis is on those most underserved, neglected, victimized and oppressed.  This includes, but is not limited to, transgender women and men of color, those with disabilities, youth and elderly, immigrants (documented and undocumented), low income and victims of crime. Offering Music “Blue Boat Home” By Peter Mayer Mia, Christian and Dean Gonzales, vocals Reading “To Live Deliberately”  Henry David Thoreau Spoken by Meadow Bornhorst Credos Dean Gonzales Respondent: Dan Thompson Meadow Bornhorst Respondents: Sande Hartdagen, Graham Bornhorst Gifts Congregation : Just as we have been with you in days past, we are with you now, and will be with you in the future. We care for you. We love you. In you we place our faith. In you we place our hope for a more peaceful, just and loving world. Youth : We are grateful for your love and support and for the faith and hope you place in us as we move into the future. All : We are never complete. We are never finished. We are always becoming more than we have been. May we always help and encourage each other to grow toward all we are capable of becoming. Closing Hymn #298 “Wake Now My Senses” Words by Thomas S.J. Mikelson Traditional Irish melody 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. 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.

Gathering Music   Welcome and Announcements   Centering   Prelude     “Imagine” Words and music by John Lennon Andy Ricci, guitar   Chalice Lighting and Opening Words   Opening Hymn    # 1024 “When the Spirit Says Do” Words and Music: African-American spiritual Mary Bopp, piano    You got to do when the spirit says do! You got to do when the spirit says do! When the spirit says do, you got to do, oh Lord! You got to do when the spirit says do! Spirit says do   *sing *draw *dance   Time for All Ages   “What Do You Do With an Idea? Written by Kobi Yamada Illustrated by Mae Besom    Joys and Concerns   Offering Hartford Deportation Defense says, "we are an immigrant organization in Hartford, CT, working alongside our neighbors to build a just and dignified future for our families and communities in the Hartford region." They engage in a variety of activities in support of immigrants, including fundraising (especially for people facing health emergencies), providing resources for families with a loved-one in detention, working with immigration attorneys, rapid response, accompaniment to hearings and legislative advocacy.   Offering Music     “Choose to be Near” Words and Music by Andy Ricci Andy Ricci, guitar   Introduction to the Service/Speakers   Reflections from Jane Penfield   Reading   “Soul Lifts” Rev. Tess Baumberger     Wouldn't it be great if you could take a picture of your soul? Then when your mother wanted to brag about you she could show people the picture and say, "That's my daughter, doesn't she have a beautiful soul, all sparkly and many-colored and flowing all around her?"   Wouldn't it be great if we walked around surrounded by our souls, so that they were the first things people saw instead of the last things? Then people would judge us by who we really are instead of how we look. Imagine no more racism, ageism, sexism, fatism, shortism, homophobia. Imagine falling in love with who a person is, just by looking at them.   It would be a kind of cloaking device, hiding physical faults, defects, or even perfections. I'd want it to be mandatory. Then people would work at making their souls more attractive instead of their bodies and faces.   Imagine people knowing by your soul that you really need a hug. Imagine people helping each other and their souls changing colors or growing.   Imagine soul gyms with exercises to get your sagging soul in shape. Imagine the long lines forming for soul-lifts at churches, temples, mosques, synagogues or nature's grand cathedrals.   Reflections from Carol Marion   Closing Hymn    #311 “Let It Be a Dance”  (Verses 1 & 3) Words & Music: Ric Masten Mary Bopp, piano (Chorus) Let it be a dance we do. May I have this dance with you? Through the good times and the bad times, too, let it be a dance.   Let a dancing song be heard. Play the music, say the words, and fill the sky with sailing birds. Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance. Learn to follow, learn to lead, feel the rhythm, fill the need to reap the harvest, plant the seed. Let it be a dance.   (Chorus)   Morning star comes out at night, without the dark there is no light. If nothing’s wrong, then nothing’s right. Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance. Let the sun shine, let it rain; share the laughter, bear* the pain, and round and round we go again. Let it be a dance. 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.

Gathering Music (Mary Bopp) Welcome (Rev. Josh Pawelek) Processional Hymn #361 "Enter Rejoice and Come In" By Louise Ruspini Arr. by Betty Wylder 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 ... Announcements Centering (Emmy Galbraith) Prelude "The Lovers' Waltz" By Jay Ungar and Molly Mason Anhared Stowe, violin Mary Bopp, piano Chalice Lighting and Opening Words #434 "May We Be Reminded" anonymous Beth and Rosemary Ventura, chalice lighters (11:00) May we be reminded here of our highest aspirations, and inspired to bring our gifts of love and service to the altar of humanity. May we know once again that we are not isolated beings but connected, in mystery and miracle, to the universe, to this community and to each other. Hymn #1009 Meditation on Breathing" By Sarah Dan Jones When I breathe in, I'll breathe in peace. When I breathe out, I'll breath out love. Time for All Ages Children's Choir "My Roots Go Down" By Sarah Pirtle, et al My roots go down, down into the earth My roots go down, down into the earth My roots go down, down into the earth My roots go down. I am a willow, bending in the wind ... I am a waterfall skippin' home ... I am an acorn waiting to be born ... I am an oak tree, tall and bold ... My roots go down, down into the earth ... Joys and Concerns Musical Prayer "Prayer for Connection" Words by Cyndi Krupa Music by Mary Bopp May peace, light and love Infuse all living beings With a feeling of connection And knowing we are one. Offering Offering Music Theme from "Schindler's List" By John Williams Anhared Stowe, violin Mary Bopp, piano Homily (Rev. Josh Pawelek) Flower Communion Flower Communion Prayer "Consecration of the Flowers" By the Rev. Norbert F. Capek Closing Hymn #155 "Circle 'Round for Freedom" By Linda Hirschhorn Circle 'round for freedom, circle 'round for peace, for all of us imprisoned, circle for release, circle for the planet, circle for each soul, for the children of our children, keep the circle whole. Chalice Extinguishing "The Flame in Our Hearts" By Mary Bopp The flame in our hearts never ceases burning 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 for all the days to come.

Painting is by Navajo artist Tony Abeyta Gathering Music (Mary Bopp) Welcome and Announcements Centering Prelude "Ave Maria" by Charles Gounod, inspired by JS Bach Mary Bopp, piano   Chalice Lighting and Opening Words # 429 "Come into this place of peace”" by William F. Schultz   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.   Opening Hymn  STJ #1069, “Ancient Mother” Traditional Navajo prayer   Ancient Mother, I hear you calling. Ancient Mother, I hear your song. Ancient Mother, I feel your laughter. Ancient Mother, I taste your tears. Time for All Ages   “ Love You Forever” Written by Robert Munsch and illustrated by Sheila McGraw   Hymn as the children leave for their classes   STLT #118, “This Little Light of Mine” African American spiritual   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. . .   Joys and Concerns   Musical Interlude   Introduction to the Service/Speakers   Reflection from Elise Cotrone   Musical Interlude   Reading #715 “Your Children” by Kahlil Gibran   Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.   They come through you but not from you, And though they are with you, they belong not to you.   You may give them your love but not your thoughts, For they have their own thoughts.   You may house their bodies but not their souls, For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.   You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.   You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.   The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.   Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness.   Reflection from Michelle Spadaccini   Offering   Hartford Deportation Defense says "we are an immigrant organization in Hartford, CT, working alongside our neighbors to build a just and dignified future for our families and communities in the Hartford region." They engage in a variety of activities in support of immigrants, including fundraising (especially for people facing health emergencies), providing resources for families with a loved-one in detention, working with immigration attorneys, rapid response, accompaniment to hearings and legislative advocacy.   Offering Music   “The Girl with the Flaxen Hair” by Claude Debussy) Dedicated to Helen Bopp Mary Bopp, Piano   Reflection from Kate Kimmerle   Closing Hymn          #95  “There Is More Love Somewhere” African American Hymn    There is more love somewhere. There is more love somewhere. I’m gonna keep on ‘til I find it. There is more love somewhere.   There is more hope somewhere. . .   There is more peace somewhere. . .   There is more joy somewhere. . .   Extinguishing the Chalice   #684 “The blessing of truth be upon us” by Duke T. Gray   The blessing of truth be upon us, the power of love direct us and sustain us, and may the peace of this community preserve our going out and our coming in, from this time forth, until we meet again.   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.

Calliope the mouse, after speaking with Jaime the baby               Our ministry theme for May is imagination . I want to tell a story, which is both a thought experiment and a spiritual reflection on imagination. Full disclosure: I wrote this story to elaborate on a dream I had this past Wednesday.             Once upon a time there was a baby. His name was Jaime. When Jaime was born, like most babies, he cried. Leaving the dark, comforting safety of the womb, squeezing down the birth canal, journeying from that blissful, unconscious, unknowing oneness of the womb into the often bright, antiseptic light of the delivery room, into the latex-gloved hands of the delivery nurse, taking that first full breath of terrestrial air, filling those infant lungs that have never before been full, the body’s senses suddenly engaged, a cacophony of incomprehensible sensory input—it’s a shock to the system. I’ve always assumed this is why most newborns immediately cry. But most newborns settle down quickly once they’re wrapped tightly in a soft blanket, lying upon their mother’s chest, nestled in her loving, joy-filled embrace.               Jaime didn’t settle down. Jaime kept crying. The doctor noticed and said, “give it time.” So his parents gave it time. Jaime didn’t stop crying. The hospital staff ran some precautionary tests. Jaime was a healthy baby. But he wouldn’t stop crying. Until he finally fell asleep. Then he seemed peaceful. But when he woke up, he started crying again. The medical staff did everything they knew to do, continued checking vitals, running various tests, researching what might cause a baby to cry unceasingly. They couldn’t diagnose the problem. Eventually they discharged Jaime and mom, saying ‘give it time.’ The family went home. Jaime kept crying. The parents were distraught. It was hard to bond with a baby who cried so much. Sometimes it was a full-blown wailing cry for minutes on end; sometimes a sob that seemed to come in slow waves for hours; sometimes a soft whimper for half a day.             When Jaime was asleep, his infant mind would dream. Since he was a newborn who had very little experience of being conscious in the world, he had no way to name the images in his dreams, let alone make meaning out of them. But if Jaime could have described his experience of dreaming, he might have said that it felt really good, that it felt a lot like his time in the womb, when it was dark, soft and safe, when there was no distinction between him and the rest of reality, when he was one with everything—that beautiful, blissful time before the water broke, before the squeezing, the bright light, the noise, the sterile odors, the physical touch. If Jaime were able to speak, he might have said “I miss that time.” He might have said, “this new world is too much. It’s all coming at me constantly. It keeps pouring in. Some of it is scary. Some of it hurts. Some of it feels wonderful, like when my parents hug and kiss me. Some of it is beautiful. Some of it is absurd. All I can do is cry. Things were so much simpler back in the womb.”             One day Jaime was lying in his crib, whimpering softly. He had just woken up from a dream. He’d been dreaming about a mouse, though he didn’t know it was a mouse because he’d never seen one before. He opened his eyes. There on the mattress next to him was an actual mouse. Jaime’s whimpering intensified.             “Hi Jaime,” said the mouse.             Jaime couldn’t talk, but he understood that the mouse was greeting him, and in his mind, he said hello and asked “who are you?”             “I’m Calliope,” said the mouse. “I heard you crying. I know what’s happening. I can help.”             “Can you help me get back to the womb?” asked Jaime, in his mind.             “I know how much you want to go back,” said Calliope, “but you were born. You’re here now. Still, I see how the world is pouring in and overwhelming you. That’s not supposed to happen. You’re a baby. Really all you’re supposed to be encountering in these first few weeks of life are your parents’ smiles and hugs, breast milk, blankets, diapers, that mobile over your crib, maybe someone shaking a rattle in your face, and people talking mostly gibberish to you. That’s all it should be. But somehow the whole world is pouring in. Like in the womb, you’re still experiencing yourself as one with everything, but there’s so much more now compared to then. It’s too much. When humans are born they lose their sense of oneness, but that didn’t happen to you. So I want to help you turn it off.”             “Turn it off?” The idea had never occurred to Jaime. He didn’t exactly want to turn it off. Yes, some of it was scary. Some of it was painful. But some of it was glorious, beautiful, hilarious. He could not stop his tears, but often they were tears of joy. He didn’t want to lose that. “I’m not sure I want to turn it off. That sounds kind of boring.”             “I completely agree,” said Calliope. But as you grow up, there are ways to bring that sense of oneness back into your life.”             “What ways? How?” asked Jaime.             “You’ll learn to use your Imagination,” said Calliope.             “Imagination?”             “Yes, with your imagination, you can access the oneness of all there is, and in response you can generate new ideas. You can create works of art. You can build a better world.”             “But how will I learn?” asked Jaime.             “You’ll learn. It’s easy for children. Children have very vivid imaginations. The challenge is continuing to use your imagination as you grow older. Lots of adults forget to use their imagination.”             “How can I make sure I won’t forget?” asked Jaime.             “Remember my voice, Jaime,” she said. “And believe me when I tell you, the muses are always speaking. Listen for their voices. They’ll guide you. I predict you will have a great imagination.”             Calliope darted over to Jaime’s toe and kissed it. Then she scampered down the side of the crib and into a hole in the corner of the nursery. Something shifted in Jaime. The world was no longer pouring in. He stopped crying. ****             Twelve years ago I preached a series of sermons on creativity. At the time I was very influenced by a book called I magine: How Creativity Works , by the popular science writer Jonah Lehrer. Lehrer was eventually accused of and admitted to a variety of publishing transgressions—plagiarism, mis-identification of sources, mis-statement of research findings and more. The publisher recalled the book. Lehrer disappeared from the science-writing scene, though he has published other books since then. I won’t say anything else about Lehrer’s professional troubles. But I do want to recall a notion I presented in my April 15th, 2012 sermon on creativity. I’m recalling it not because it is based on anything Lehrer said that was later found to be inaccurate, but because it no longer rings true for me spiritually. In the preface to the book Lehrer points out—and I quoted him in my sermon—that until the age of the European Enlightenment, [at least in the western world] “the imagination was entirely synonymous with higher powers: being creative meant channeling the muses, giving voice to the ingenious gods. ( Inspiration,  after all, literally means ‘breathed upon.’) Because people couldn’t understand creativity, they assumed that their best ideas came from somewhere else. The imagination was outsourced.” [1]  His book counters this idea. He discusses an array of scientific experiments and data to show that imagination and the creativity it produces happen within. Creativity is, in short, a bundle of distinct mental processes that combine to give rise to new thoughts. [2] No external forces—or muses—necessary.             I affirmed this idea in that 2012 sermon, but now I’d like to recall it. Calliope says to Jaime, “believe me when I tell you, the muses are always speaking. Listen for their voices. They’ll guide you.” I’d like to make the case that muses really do fire our imagination.             Before I make that case, I should say that, generally speaking, Lehrer was correct about the human portion of the imagination equation. Much of it is internal. Scientists can observe and measure specific neurological processes that take place in our brains when we’re using our imaginations. One of the most widely-cited recent studies is entitled "Imagination as a Fundamental Function of the Hippocampus,” published in Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society B  in October, 2022 . [3] The study’s authors propose that the hippocampus—which has always been associated with memory—also plays a role in the generation of hypothetical experiences, a process they call ‘generativity,’ which is another word for imagination. A 2023 article in Scientific American  called “Where Imagination Lives in Your Brain,” offers a helpful summation of the Royal Society article for non-nonscientists and cites other studies that confirm the conclusions about the role of the hippocampus in imagination. We learn that the hippocampus works with other areas of the brain. One writer says the hippocampus is like “an orchestra conductor that cues up neurons in other regions that represent the sights, sounds and smells that either are part of a recollection or ‘fit together in some imagined thing.’” [4]             As far as I know, no one has ever used the scientific method to prove the existence of the muses. But I do note it is common for artists and creatives of all sorts (a group which includes scientists, engineers and mathematicians) to say they feel as if their art, their creations, their ideas come not from them but through them, as if some external, even divine power has breathed it upon them.             While I was reviewing the scientific literature on imagination, I started researching muses in ancient religions. The term ‘muse’ most commonly refers to the nine muses of Greek mythology : Clio , muse of history; Polyhymnia , muse of sacred hymns; Euterpe , muse of music; Terpsichore , muse of dance; Erato, muse of literature and science; Melpomene , muse of tragedy; Thalia , muse of comedy, Urania , muse of astronomy and astrology; and perhaps the greatest of all, Calliope , muse of epic poetry  an d eloquence. But they aren’t the only muses. In religions and cultures across the globe (ancient and current) there are many divine or semi-divine entities that play a muse-like role. In Arabic Middle Easter cultures there are stories of jinn inspiring poets and oracles. In Chinese culture there are stories of the immortals or xian inspiring poets and artists. In India, the goddess Saraswati plays a muse-like role and is often invoked by poets, musicians and students. In Norse mythology, Bragi, the God of poetry and eloquence, was often invoked by the skalds for inspiration. In West African cultures oral historians, or griots, are believed to receive inspiration from the orishas.             I imagine that the prevalence of muses and muse-like entities in so many cultures reflects a deep, long-standing human desire to explain the common experience among artists and creatives that their work comes not from them but through them.             Here’s my argument for muses, which I offer as a thought experiment. What if the experience of the womb, common to every human being, is exactly as I describe it in the story: an approximately nine-month period of pure, uninterrupted oneness with all creation. A time of blissful, peaceful unknowing in which there is no distinction between ourselves and the universe. Our first human experience is oneness. Though we don’t consciously remember, our bodies remember. And if you have a concept of the soul, I’d argue that our souls remember as well.             Then comes the birth rupture. The water breaking, the squeezing, the bright light, the noise, the sterile odors intruding. We suck in air for the first time. We cry. Then in most cases, we settle down and begin life as babies, slowly learning the ways of our caregivers and our culture, the experience of oneness now behind us in the womb time, though with us in our cellular memory.             What if, all around us, every minute of every day, there are signs pointing toward the truth we knew in the womb, that we are one with all there is? What if every blade of grass, every snowflake, every human or animal touch, every shoreline, every hermit crab, every tree, every stone, every mountain, every meal we eat with loved ones, with strangers, or alone, every piece of music, every poem, every dance, every painting, every sculpture, every sermon, every summer breeze, every raging storm, every ant, honey bee or butterfly, every growing thing, every story, every lighting of the chalice flame, every prayer, every sunrise and sunset, every drop of water, every sunbeam, every star, and especially the vast darkness of space—what if all of it—every glimmer of recognition—points us toward that truth our bodies knew in the womb that we are one with all there is? What if all of it is the muse speaking? Calliope assuring Jaime that as long as he listens for her voice he will remember. Would you not weep in response? Would you not feel like something is coming through you, and that in fact you’ve known it all along, known it since your birth?             And what if, in response to these signs, your hippocampus lights up, fires, blazes, explodes with electrical impulses, and within your imagination the ideas of your life, the music of your life, the poetry of your life begins to flow?             I say we are surrounded by muses. Our task is to listen, to remember what we’ve always known, and to unleash our imagination.             Amen and blessed be. [1]  Lehrer, Jonah, Imagine: How Creativity Works  (New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing, 2012) p. xvi. [2] Ibid., p. vvii. For a helpful overview of the content of Imagine , check Lehrer’s March 19, 2012 interview on National Public Radio at http://www.npr.org/2012/03/19/148777350/how-creativity-works-its-all-in-your-imagination . [3]  Comrie AE, Frank LM, Kay K. 2022 Imagination as a fundamental function of the hippocampus. Phil. Trans. R. Soc. B 377: 20210336. https://doi.org/10.1098/rstb.2021.0336 . [4]  Wickelgran, Ingird, “Where Imagination Lives in Your Brain, Scientific American , June 8, 2023. See: https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/where-imagination-lives-in-your-brain/ .

Gathering Music (Dorothy Bognar) Welcome and Announcements (Rev. Josh Pawelek) Centering Prelude "How Beautiful is Night" by Robert Farnon Chalice Lighting and Opening Words "Prayer for Artists and Creatives" by Atena O. Danner Opening Hymn #1007 "There's a River Flowin' in My Soul" by Rose Sanders There's a river flowin' in my soul. There's a river flowin' in my soul. And it's tellin' me that I'm somebody. There's a river flowin' in my soul. There's a river flowin' in my heart ... There's a river flowin' in my mind ... Time for All Ages Hymn #1057 "Go Lifted Up" by Mortimer B. Barron Go lifted up, Love bless your way moonlight, starlight guide your journey into peace and the brightness of day. Joys and Concerns Musical Interlude Offering Hartford Deportation Defense says "we are an immigrant organization in Hartford, CT, working alongside our neighbors to build a just and dignified future for our families and communities in the Hartford region." They engage in a variety of activities in support of immigrants, including fundraising (especially for people facing health emergencies), providing resources for families with a loved-one in detention, working with immigration attorneys, rapid response, accompaniment to hearings and legislative advocacy. Offering Music "Song and Dance No. 7" by Federico Mompou Sermon "The Muses are Speaking" Rev. Josh Pawelek Closing Hymn #391 "Voice Still and Small" by John Corrado Voice still and small, deep inside all, I hear you call, singing. In storm and rain, sorrow and pain, still we'll remain, singing. Calming my fears, quenching my tears, through all the years, singing . 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 .

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.