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Don't make assumptions Always do your best Gathering Music (Mary Bopp, piano) Welcome (Sam Taylor) Centering Prelude "Late for Lammas" by Mary Bopp Chalice Lighting and Opening Words (Liz Garmise) Excerpt from "Prayer for Love" Opening Hymn #128 "For All That Is Our Life" Words by Bruce Findlow Mary Bopp, piano For all that is our life we sing our thanks and praise; for all life is a gift which we are called to use to build the common good and make our own days glad. For needs which others serve, for services we give, for work and its rewards, for hours of rest and love; we come with praise and thanks for all that is our life. For sorrow we must bear, for failures, pain, and loss, for each new thing we learn, for fearful hours that pass: we come with praise and thanks for all that is our life. For all that is our life we sing our thanks and praise; for all life is a gift which we are called to use to build the common good and make our own days glad. Time For All Ages The Magical Yet Author: Angela DiTerlizzi Illustrated by Lorena Alverez Gomez Announcements Joys and Concerns Musical Interlude Introduction to the Service Offering The recipients of our community outreach offering for the month of August are : Manchester Area Conference of Churches (food pantry) Hockanum Valley Food Pantry CT Mutual Aid East of the River (food pantry) TLC Foundation Inc in Manchester, a non-profit dedicated to helping vulnerable youth Offering Music "Answering the Call of Love" by Jason Shelton Sung by Sandy Johnson Homily Don't Make Assumptions Liz Garmise Musical Interlude Homily Always Do Your Best Sam Taylor Closing Hymn #1031 "Filled With Loving Kindness" Traditional Buddhist Meditation Words and music adapted by Mark W. Hayes Mary Bopp, piano May I be filled with loving kindness. May I be well. May I be filled with loving kindness. May I be well. May I be peaceful and at ease. May I be whole. May you be filled with loving kindness. May you be well. May you be filled with loving kindness. May you be well. May you be peaceful and at ease. May you be whole. May we be filled with loving kindness. May we be well. May we be filled with loving kindness. May we be well. May we be peaceful and at ease. May we be whole. Extinguishing the Chalice and Closing Words Excerpt from "A New Dream: Heaven on Earth" 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 - Improvisation by Mary Bopp Welcome & Announcements (David Klotz) Centering Prelude Chalice Lighting and Opening Words Opening Hymn #20 "Be Thou My Vision" Words: Ancient Irish Music: Traditional Irish Introduction to the Service Joys and Concerns Musical Interlude Offering Offering Music Reflection - Karin Dionne Musical Interlude Reflection - Marian Vitale Musical Interlude Reflection: Jane Penfield Closing Hymn #21 "For the Beauty of the Earth" Words: Folliott Sandford Pierpoint Music: Conrad Kocher Extinguishing the Chalice "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 in all the days to come.

Our spiritual lives mirror the changing seasons. This remains a gospel truth for me.[1] Our spiritual lives take cues from the changes between seasons and the changes within each season—changes in the light, in the proximity of Earth to Sun, in the angle of Earth toward Sun; changes in temperature, color, the land, the wildlife, the night sky. All seasonal changes serve as prompts and cues for our spiritual reflection, practice and growth. For example, our spiritual winters are for rest and nurture, gestation, germination. They are womb times, dormant times, inward times, tomb times, dreaming times, healing times, seeds-waiting-below-the-surface times. Our spiritual springs are for rejuvenation and resurgence, bursting forth, rising up. They are fertile earth times, greening times, red-buds-on-branches times, warming times, planting times, youthful times, awakening times, resurrection times. Our spiritual summers are for exploration and play, invention and innovation, learning and growth, discerning vocation, discerning meaning and purpose. In our spiritual summers we find ourselves both rooted-in-rich soil, soaking up nutrients and moisture, and moved to venture out, to wander along our growing edges, to wander down roads not previously taken. Our spiritual autumns are for harvest, settling in, winding down, letting go. They are ripening and reaping times, gently falling leaves times, waning and decay times, preparing-the-fields-for-winter-rest times, reckoning with death times, thin veil times, remembering-the-ancestors times. These are some of the ways I describe how our spiritual lives mirror and respond to the changing seasons, how so many spiritual prompts and cues are embedded in our experience of the changing seasons. My descriptions are not universal. They don’t travel well. They don’t apply at the equator or in regions with two predominant seasons, rainy and dry. I say “our spiritual lives mirror the changing seasons” because I like the sound and feel of that language; but for some it may be more useful to say, simply, “our spiritual lives mirror the patterns of the earth;” or “our spiritual lives mirror the changes in the land;” or “our spiritual lives mirror the movements of the night sky.” I also note that our spiritual seasons do not always align with the calendar. Spiritual winter for rest, which may be necessary at any time of year. Spiritual spring is for rebirth, which may come at any time of year. Here, now, it is summer in the northern hemisphere. Summer’s mid-point is next weekend. Those who follow the neo-pagan wheel of the year might know it as Lughnasadh, the ancient, Gaelic first harvest festival occurring on the cross-quarter day between the summer solstice and the autumnal equinox. At least some of the mythology associated with Lughnasadh tells of gods fighting over the dispensation of grain. Some may also know the summer mid-point as Lammas, or Loaf Mass Day, or the Feast of First Fruits, a Christian first harvest celebration in some English-speaking countries. As I review the various mid-summer festivals around the world, harvest is definitely a theme; which makes sense: if one plants crops in March or April, certainly one will be harvesting by mid-summer if not sooner. But for me, as a prompt for spiritual reflection, harvest belongs with autumn, and I don’t want to arrive at spiritual autumn too soon, at least not in this sermon. I don’t want to miss the themes at the heart of spiritual summer, which for me are exploration, play, invention, learning, growth, seeking meaning and purpose. I’ve always thought of spiritual summer as a time to pursue passions and interests we haven’t yet pursued or which we’ve been neglecting. So often, for so many reasons, we aren’t doing the things we really want to do; we aren’t living the lives we long to live. I think of those words attributed to the 20th-century American Christian mystic, Howard Thurman: “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and then go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” Spiritual summer is the time to do the thing we feel called to do, so that we can come alive, so that we can live meaningful, purposeful lives. **** At the recommendation of a colleague, as part of my summer study leave, I’ve been reading a set of novellas, the “Monk and Robot” series, from the science fiction writer Becky Chambers. The first book in the series, Psalm for the Wild-Built, published in 2021, takes place on Panga, a moon that was once an industrial center, filled with factories that relied on robot labor. One day, the robots decided they didn’t want to do factory labor anymore. They disappeared into the wilderness. Humans respected the robots’ decision, and adapted by recreating their society, such that now Panga is a post-industrial, post-capitalist, green utopia.[2] Note: So much science fiction these days is dystopian. But the Monk and Robot series is utopian. Panga feels like the place we’re longing to create on earth today! The story begins as Sibling Dex, a monk who tends a monastery garden in the city, feels restless. Dex, who uses they/them pronouns, decides to change vocations, becoming a travelling tea monk. They bike from village to village with their tea cart. People visit the cart and open up to Dex, sharing their stories, problems, challenges, questions. Dex listens, engages in conversation, then brews a special cup of tea for each person they speak with, selecting tea leaves that will soothe the unique stress, anxiety, heartache or ailment the person is living with. It’s a ministry, for which Dex becomes very well-known. People look forward to Sibling Dex’s visits to their village. Dex, at least initially, is doing the thing that makes them come alive. They find a sense of purpose to overcome their restlessness. As I read it, Dex is in the midst of a spiritual summer. They are summering—not in the sense of vacationing, but in the sense of finding the truth at their core. But the restlessness returns. Sibling Dex is no longer confident serving tea is their purpose. They’re not sure it’s meaningful, at least not in an ultimate sense. Something else calls them. They decide to journey alone into the wilderness, a radical decision, since humans don’t do this. I read the decision as Sibling Dex moving deeper into their spiritual summer, exploring, searching, seeking. In the wilderness Dex meets the robot Mosscap, the first human-robot contact since the robots left the factories centuries earlier. It turns out Mosscap has left robot society to learn how humans are doing. There is a basic question at the heart of Mosscap’s research; what do human’s need? Through the course of their ensuing conversations it becomes clear Dex needs meaning and purpose. Mosscap is confused by this. [Humans], it says, “the creators of us … originally made us with a clear purpose in mind. A purpose inbuilt from the start. But when we woke up and said, We have realized our purpose and we don’t want it, you respected that. More than respected. You rebuilt everything to accommodate our absence. You were proud of us for transcending our purpose, and proud of yourselves for honoring our individuality. So why, then, do you insist on having a purpose for yourself, one which you are desperate to find and miserable without? If you understand that robots’ lack of purpose … is the crowning mark of our intellectual maturity, why do you put so much energy into seeking the opposite?” Mosscap, though it, too, is searching, and expresses a clearly-stated purpose to learn what humans need, is also content just to sit still and observe. Apparently, robots will sit still and observe a small feature of the natural world for decades at a time. So Mosscap is genuinely confused about Dex’s anxious search for meaning and purpose. Dex struggles with Mosscap’s questioning. I do too. I realize that over the years, I’ve put enormous energy into what I am calling summering, into figuring out how to live in a way that is meaningful and purposeful. I’ve put enormous energy into conducting my ministry in a way that is meaningful and purposeful. Countless times in countless ways I have said to you that one of the central roles of this congregation in your lives is—or at least ought to be—supporting you in seeking, discovering and pursuing meaning and purpose. That’s not about to change. And I don’t think Becky Chambers is suggesting that it should, though she is clearly wondering how to value the human search for meaning and purpose. I take from her a caution that the search for meaning and purpose—as important as it is, as deep and profound a part of the human condition as it is—may not always get us where we think we want to go. We may never find fulfillment. The answers we seek may be more elusive than we imagine, may remain mysterious despite our best efforts. The journey may never end. That’s the caution. But I also read her as saying it’s OK. She’s counseling us to approach our searching more lightly, to pursue it more gently, to leave space—even cultivate space—for spontaneity, serendipity and the unexpected; to spend more time sitting still and observing. There’s a message here about trust and acceptance. I think Chambers is saying ‘yes, search for meaning and purpose, as Dex is doing, but also relax. Breathe. Settle in. Trust there are certain, fundamental truths that surround us, hold us and live in us whether we’re successful in our searching or not, whether we find the meaning we long for or not. Two things Mosscap says speak volumes to me in this regard. First, Dex asks Mosscap: “’It doesn’t bother you …. The thought that your life might mean nothing in the end?” Mosscap responds: “’That’s true for all life I’ve observed. Why would it bother me?’ Mosscap’s eyes glowed brightly. ‘Do you not find consciousness to be the most exhilarating thing? Here we are, in this incomprehensibly large universe, on this one tiny moon around this one incidental planet, and in all the time this entire scenario has existed, every component has been recycled over and over again into infinitely incredible configurations, and sometimes, those configurations are special enough to be able to see the world around them. You and I—we’re just atoms that arranged themselves the right way, and we can understand that about ourselves. Is that not amazing?” Second, robots were designed to live forever. When Dex learns they have chosen to let themselves decay over time—have chosen impermanence—they are incredulous. “‘…. You could live forever. But you chose this. You chose to be impermanent. People didn’t, and we spend our whole lives trying to come to grips with that.’ ‘I didn’t choose impermanence,’ Mosscap said. ‘The originals did, but I did not. I had to learn my circumstances just as you did.’ ‘Then how,’ Dex said, ‘how does the idea of maybe being meaningless sit well with you?’ Mosscap considered. ‘Because I know that no matter what, I’m wonderful,’ it said. There was nothing arrogant about the statement, nothing flippant or brash. It was merely an acknowledgement, a simple shared truth.” **** It’s summertime. Mindful that any of us could be moving through any spiritual season at the moment, I’m trying to name the essence of spiritual summer. I’m clear it’s a time for searching and seeking. I’m clear it’s a time for exploration, play, innovation, creativity, for doing the things that make us come alive, especially if we’ve been avoiding those things. I’m clear summering is for discerning meaning and growing in our sense of purpose. I also understand we don’t always get there. We don’t always find what we’re looking for. We don’t always experience fulfillment in our searching, and, as it did for Dex, this may feel problematic, even painful, which may bring us to a place of anxiety, even existential worry – my life is finite; surely it means something, surely there is some point to it! What if there isn’t? It is very human to ask these kinds of questions. In this summer season I am finding some comfort in the insights of a fictional robot: that consciousness is exhilarating, a gift beyond measure; that we are a collection of atoms that arranged themselves in a certain way and now have the ability to perceive ourselves and the universe—and this is a blessing; and, that despite our impermanence, we are wonderful. Whatever spiritual season you find yourself in, I wish you well on your particular journey. And in all your spiritual summers, I wish you a fruitful search for meaning and purpose which hopefully includes time to sit still and observe. And whether your searching yields the answers you seek or not, I remind you of the gift of exhilarating consciousness. I remind you that you are wonderful. Amen and blessed be. [1] Here’s an example of a similar sermon on the same theme from a few years ago on the transition from winter to spring: https://www.uuse.org/post/turning-rev-josh-pawelek-february-2-2025. [2] Learn about “Psalm for the Wild-Built and other Becky Chambers books at https://www.otherscribbles.com/#/a-psalm-for-the-wild-built/.

Gathering Music Beatles music medley Andy Ricci, guitar and vocals Welcome and Announcements (Rev. Josh Pawelek) Centering Prelude "Wandering" by James Taylor Andy Ricci, guitar and vocals Chalice Lighting and Opening Words Excerpt from A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers Opening Hymn #38 "Morning Has Broken" by Eleanor Farjeon 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! Time for All Ages Musical Meditation Joys and Concerns Musical Meditation Offering The recipients of our July and August community outreach offerings are the MACC Food Pantry, the Hockanum Valley Food Pantry, and the CT Mutual Aid East of the River food security program. As a reminder, you can also donate on our website. There's a yellow donate button in the top center of the home page. Offering Music "Secret of Life" by James Taylor Andy Ricci, guitar and vocals Rev. Josh Pawelek, vocals Sermon Summering Rev. Josh Pawelek Closing Hymn "Woyaya" By Osibisa (Sol Amarfio, Teddy Osei, Mac Tontoh, Loughty Lasisi Amao, Robert Bailey, Wendell Richardson, and Spartacus R. Bedeau) We are going Heaven knows where we are going But we know we will Get there We are going Heaven knows where we are going But we know we will Get there We will get there Heaven knows how we will get there But we know we will Get there It will be hard we know And the road Will be muddy and rough But we will get there Heaven knows how we will get there We know we will Get there We are going Heaven knows where we are going We know we will Get there It will be hard we know And the road Will be muddy and rough But we will get there Heaven knows how we will get there We know we will Get there WOYAYA WOYAYEI WOYAYA WOYAYEI WOYAYA WOYAYEI WOYAYA WOYAYEI WOYAYA WOYAYA WOYAYA WOYAYA WOYAYA WOYAYA WOYAYA WOYAYA WOYAYA WOYAYEI WOYAYA WOYAYEI WOYAYA WOYAYEI WOYAYA WOYAYEI WOYAYA WOYAYA WOYAYA WOYAYA WOYAYA WOYAYA WOYAYA WOYAYA We are going Heaven knows where we are going We know we will Get there 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 (Jenn Richard, UUSE guest musician) Welcoming Centering Prelude Steve Winwood: Higher Love Jenn Richard, guitar Chalice Lighting and Opening Words - SLT #447 At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us. Opening Hymn SLT #89 - "Come, My Way, My Truth, My Life" Words: George Herbert; Music: Ralph Vaughan Williams Jenn Richard, piano Come, my way, my truth, my life: such a way as gives us breath, such a truth as ends all strife, such a life as killeth death. Come, my light, my feast, my strength: such a light as shows a feast, such a feast as mends in length, such a strength as makes a guest. Come, my joy, my love, my heart: Such a joy as none can move, such a love as none can part, such a heart as joys in love. Time For All Ages "Love Finds a Way" by Susan Verde Hymn SLT #95 "There is More Love Somewhere" Words & Music: African American Hymn Jenn Richard, guitar 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 ... Announcements Introduction to the Service "The Pulse of Love" Joys and Concerns Offering Each Sunday, we dedicate half of the unallocated collections from our offering to organizations that are working to improve the lives of residents in our greater community. The recipients of our July Community Outreach offering include the MACC Food Pantry, the Hockanum Valley Food Pantry, the CT Mutual Aid East of the River Food Pantry, and the TLC Foundation. Offering Music Ross Hogarth, Ziggy Marley: "Love is My Religion" Jenn Richard, guitar The Pulse of Love - Part 1 (Kate Kimmerle) Musical Interlude Joni Mitchell: "Both Sides Now" Jenn Richard, guitar The Pulse of Love - Part 2 (Kate Kimmerle) Closing Hymn SLT #18 "What Wondrous Love" Words: American Folk Hymn Music: Melody from The Southern Harmony, 1835 Jenn Richard, piano What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul, what wondrous love is this, O my soul? What wondrous love is this that brings my heart such bliss, and takes away the pain of my soul, of my soul, and takes away the pain of my soul. When I was sinking down, sinking down, sinking down, when I was sinking down, sinking down, when I was sinking down beneath my sorrows ground, friends to me gather'd round, O my soul, O my soul, friends to me gaassther'd round, O my soul. To love and to all friends I will sing, I will sing, to love and to all friends I will sing. To love and to all friends who pain and sorrow mend, with thanks unto the end I will sing, I will sing, with thanks unto the end I will sing. Extinguishing the Chalice - SLT #456 We extinguish this flame, but not / the light of truth / the warmth of community / or the fire of commitment. / These we carry in our hearts until / we are together 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.

Rob Napier UUSE - July 5, 2026 It’s hard, just now, to celebrate America. I know many of you feel that. I feel that. Maybe it was always hard. Or at least maybe it always should have been hard. But I want to raise up something else today. Something I think should be celebrated. And that’s the Idea of America. I know it sounds naive, maybe even blind, but I think the Idea of America has been a powerful thing and often a good thing. It belongs to us, all of us. And I won’t let anyone take that away, no matter how many times we fail at this idea. What idea? At its heart, that things can be better. That it’s possible for things to change. That we can govern ourselves without a king. That there is more to success than lineage and blood. I’m not saying we were the first to have the idea or even the first to put it in practice, but we really have inspired the world with it more than anyone. Tens of millions have come here because they believed in that idea, and even today they keep coming. I want to honor those people. I want to honor their choices. I think they were right to come. I think the idea is worth it. A lot of things can be true at the same time. America is built on colonialism and slavery. But it’s also built on principles. Principles the original writers didn’t fully understand, but planted as seeds that have grown generation by generation. When the Declaration of Independence says “all men are created equal,” what’s meant is even less inclusive than the language used. The signers meant white men, and beyond that, white men of property.1 But once you plant that seed, the idea of inalienable rights, rights no king or government bestows, but are an inherent part of human dignity, you can’t keep its logic and promise from growing, expanding, until it encompasses everyone. In the late nineteenth and early twentieth century millions of Jews fled oppression in Eastern Europe. My mother’s family was among them. They came to New York, like so many others, and they passed by the Statue of Liberty. In 1903, a plaque was added with a mostly-forgotten poem written twenty years earlier by Emma Lazarus.2 It ends with the purest expression of the American Idea that I know. It’s what we chose to put on our greatest symbol. Give me your tired, your poor,Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door! Not college graduates from Norway,3 though they’re welcome. Not even those “willing to work.” No. Those “yearning to breathe free.” We ask nothing else. The homeless, the wretched, the refuse cast aside, they are welcome. That’s the idea that inspired so many. And I honor that. But the Statue of Liberty wasn’t created to welcome immigrants. That was a reinterpretation. Liberty Enlightening the World is a statue that celebrates freeing the enslaved.4 Under her foot are the broken slavers’ chains. She was designed by French abolitionists after the Civil War who were so inspired by America that they hoped the statue might inspire France back to democratic ideals. For our whole history, others have been captivated by that idea. A nation, “conceived in Liberty.”5 In 1875, around the time when the Statue was conceived, there were already seven Black Representatives in Congress, and a Black Senator from Mississippi.6 Constitutional amendments had been ratified abolishing slavery, enshrining birthright citizenship and equal protections, protecting the right to vote. Two Civil Rights Acts had been passed. The delegates who created the South Carolina 1868 Constitution, were majority Black. Under the Ku Klux Klan Act, hundreds of Klansmen were fined or imprisoned, and the organization was arguably destroyed for decades, not to reform until the twentieth century.7 That’s the Idea of America that the Statue of Liberty was celebrating. That idea is a myth. I know. In an earlier design, the broken chains at her feet were in her hand, but they were made more subtle to not offend donors and politicians who wanted to put the Civil War behind them.8 The contested presidential election in the very next year led to a compromise where the Southern states allowed Hayes to be President in exchange for pulling the army out of the Southern states, backed with a promise that they absolutely wouldn’t oppress Black people any more.9 They immediately began oppressing Black people, both legally and extralegally. Within fifteen years, Mississippi, the one state with a Black Senator, had made it all but impossible for Blacks to vote. Within twenty-five years, there were no Black members of Congress. A series of Supreme Court rulings upheld this situation. Williams v. Mississippi, Giles v. Harris, the infamous Plessy v. Ferguson, and more. Sound a little familiar? This is not the first time America has made great strides forward, just to fall back hard. Twenty years ago, we were asking what we were going to do with our permanent Democratic majority. We had our first Black president. Then we had Obergefell. We were seriously talking about trans rights. When have trans rights ever been on the table? For those of you grayer than I am, could you even imagine that forty years ago? The progress was slow, but we came further than we’d ever come before. And then. ... I’m not here to tell you it’s ok. I’m not here to tell you to be grateful for what we’ve still got. I’m not even here to tell you it’ll get better. It won’t. Not by itself. Not without struggle. I’m here to tell you that we’ve backslid before. We had Black Senators before we had Jim Crow, but then we had Brown v. Board tearing down separate but equal, Loving v. Virginia legalizing interracial marriage, the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the Voting Rights Act. We have our predecessors to look to, to know what we need to do to move forward again. And I believe the first thing we have to do is to hold onto our myths. The stories we tell ourselves to inspire ourselves to be who we want to be. I refuse to let petty would-be despots take away our most powerful possession, the idea, the belief, the faith that things can be better. The book of Hebrews calls faith “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”10 I call faith those things I would believe even if they were not true. And we need faith. But we don’t need faith alone to believe in the Idea of America. To believe that things can change for the better. We’ve seen it happen. In 1965, the Voting Rights Act passed in both the House and Senate by a 4-to-1 margin.11 It commanded strong majorities from both parties. It took Selma to get it introduced. It took struggle. But that struggle pushed, cajoled, finally shoved a Congress of 98% middle-aged white men to pass the most impactful civil rights act since Reconstruction. I'm sure many of you are very familiar with the events in Selma, Alabama in March, 1965 that culminated in a march to the capital in Montgomery, and President Johnson formally asking for the passage of the Voting Rights Act, which he then signed into law less than five months later. It's an incredible story. But I think the lessons for us today are in what came before. What made Selma so impactful. Selma wasn't an accident. It didn't come out of nowhere. It was part of a long line of action, struggle, and courage. And planning. Frederick Douglass, Harriet Tubman, William Lloyd Garrison, Ida B. Wells, Rosa Parks, the Freedom Riders, the Greensboro sit-ins. More than 70,000 people would participate in sit-ins across the South in 1960 alone.12 The Selma to Montgomery march was planned in response to the murder of Jimmie Lee Jackson. It was hoped to channel the rage of the community. It was planned in a little over a week. The first two attempts were stopped by State Troopers. The third and successful march happened within a month of Jackson’s murder. One month. I want to remind you this was a 54 mile, four day march that involved hundreds of people getting fed, having a place to sleep. There were food trucks, first-aid stations, arrangements and permissions for places to camp. There were buses and cars shuttling people around. It wasn’t just folks setting off and seeing what happened. I just planned the choir’s potluck for 20 people and it took me almost as long as these folks had. Organization matters. Strong institutions matter. Strategy and discipline matter. Deep pools of volunteers matter. Building a community that can effectively and quickly respond. That's why it's so important that we provide the support we do to organizations that share our values, and that they know they can call on us. Good intentions aren't always enough. Sometimes, in order to have that historic speech, you need someone who can source a few hundred meals and some porta-johns on short notice. Visibility and repetition matter. No one thought Governor Wallace was going to change his mind just because a few thousand people show up outside his door. They weren’t there to speak to the Governor. They were there to speak to America. And America was paying attention. And America was paying attention because activists had been relentless. Highly publicized protests had been going on in Selma for months. Despite being told for years and years to just be patient. Despite being chastised for being too demanding, to be thankful for what they already had won. Despite being told they were doing it wrong. It bothers me when someone calls out an injustice, and someone else says "don't complain about that, there's all these other, worse things." We can be mad about more than one thing at a time. Spread the work. Let them go fix that problem. You go focus on fixing the one you think is important. Or even worse, someone hears about injustice and says “what, you're surprised?” Acting like it’s “uncool,” “unsavvy” to keep a spotlight on atrocity, because repetition never changes minds? In the Book of Luke, Jesus tells a story.13 In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor had respect for people. In that city there was a widow who kept coming to him and saying, “Grant me justice against my [adversary]14.” For a while he refused, but later he said to himself, “Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming.” The Book of Luke was written in Greek, and that’s the “scholarly” translation that likely captures the author’s meaning, but I prefer a bit more literal translation of the last verse, what the words actually say: Yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice so that she may not finally come and punch me in the face.15 Sometimes, we need to be the widow. Now some of you might be counting on your fingers, thinking 1875 to 1965 is a long time. Decades, decades to crawl back. Most of a century. Is that what’s ahead of us? I don’t think it has to be. Even with our backsliding, we really are in a better place today than we were in 1965, let alone 1865. I don’t want to downplay the challenges we face, but it’s important to see clearly where we are. Same-sex marriage is popular.16 ICE is incredibly unpopular.17 At the end of Reconstruction, Northern whites were tired, and despite the Congressional gains for Blacks in Congress, they did not come from the North. Connecticut didn’t have its first Black Representative until 1991. The cause of abolition moved nineteenth century America, but equality did not. But today, more than a dozen states are Sanctuary States, and I’m proud that Connecticut is one of them.18 No Kings protests draw millions. Pride month is celebrated all over the country, and by so many companies that we worry it’s over-commercialized. I want you to sit with that. We’re worried that Pride may have become too popular. In every state, same sex marriage has majority support today.19 Yes, even whatever state you’re thinking of. That’s where we’re starting from. That’s where we are today. When the Voting Rights Act passed, about three-quarters of America was opposed to interracial marriage.20 Martin Luther King, Jr’s approval rate was net-negative, and by the next year it had cratered to about 60-30 disapproval.21 And still, the Voting Rights Act passed by overwhelming majorities. Think of how we can heal when justice is popular instead. And it is. I’m not saying that authoritarianism can’t break us. It can. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be scared. I’m not saying we aren’t falling backwards faster than many of us ever thought possible. It’s all true. But according to the polls, there are more than 100 million Americans who have your back. I want to honor that. There were more votes for Kamala Harris in Texas than in all New England combined. There were more Harris voters in South Carolina than in Connecticut. You’re not alone. We’re not alone. In city after city, tyranny has tried to crush the Idea of America. And the people have said no. In L.A., in Portland, in Minneapolis, and so many more, the people have said no. People have been harassed, arrested, killed. But the people have said no. Tyranny shall not have its way. We are not alone. I think our greatest risk is cynicism. Losing faith in others, and treating that as wisdom. Believing we lack strength, that we lack support, when we have so much. We are not alone. I still believe in the Idea of America. That the future can be better than the past. That we can make a difference. That justice will overcome tyranny. I believe that you are with me. I believe that Manchester is with me. And Connecticut. And 100 million Americans and more. The Idea of America belongs to us, it belongs to all of us. And we will not let the cynical and small take it away. The decades of rebuilding will be harder than this decade of destruction. It will take all our hope, and all our strength, our devotion to peace and our tenacity for justice. In 1962, at Zion Hill Baptist Church, the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr concluded with these words:22 And with this faith we will go out and adjourn the counsels of despair and bring new light into the dark chambers of pessimism and we will be able to rise from the fatigue of despair to the buoyancy of hope. And this will be a great America! We will be the participants in making it so. And so, as I leave you this evening I say, Walk together children! Don’t you get weary! Amen and Blessed Be. 1 Jefferson’s first draft of the Declaration of Independence included the passage: “[King George] has waged cruel war against human nature itself, violating it's [sic] most sacred rights of life & liberty in the persons of a distant people [i.e. Africans] who never offended him, captivating & carrying them into slavery in another hemisphere, or to incur miserable death in their transportation thither.” He explicitly includes at least Black men as having the inalienable rights of life and liberty. This section even made it through Committee review, but was stripped out during the Congressional revisions. It wasn’t that no one of the time could imagine Blacks as having rights. People thought of it, wrote it down, and then chose to remove it. It seems unlikely that Jefferson really meant to include Black men in “all men are created equal,” but Jefferson contradicted himself a lot, and often failed to consider the wider implications of what he said, so it’s always difficult to say what Jefferson “means.” 2 “The New Colossus” See “The Immigrant’s Statue” at the NPS Statue of Liberty site for a brief intro. Georgina Schuyler, a friend of Lazarus’s, started a campaign in 1901 to get the poem added to the pedestal. Lazarus was a well-known poet in 1883, and was asked to donate a poem to be auctioned to help raise money to construct the pedestal. She initially refused. But she was very active in helping Jewish refugees from eastern Europe, and was eventually convinced to write a poem that centered on the statue’s impact on those new arrivals. 3 “Trump bemoans lack of immigrants from majority-white countries to the US.” The Guardian. April 8, 2024. 4 For a quick overview, see the “Abolition” page from the NPS’s site on the Statue of Liberty. 5 Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address, 1863. 6 For this and much more, see “Black Americans in Congress” at the US House’s History site. 7 Wikipedia’s several Klan-related pages are quite disjointed, but the “First Klan” section of the main Ku Klux Klan page is a reasonable overview of this period. 8 “The Original Lady Liberty,” Library of Congress Blogs, November 2020. Includes early drawing. 9 The broad term for this movement is “Redemption” and marked the end of Reconstruction. Much of its argument and strategy is continued today in the dismantling of the Voting Rights Act and other anti-discrimination laws, and the results so far have been the same. Southern states have immediately (within the same week as Louisiana v. Callais) started implementing policies explicitly designed to make it harder for Blacks to vote. During Redemption it took years to do the same. 10 Hebrews 11:1. (NRSVue) 11 S. 1564: 77-19. H.R. 6400: 333-85. 12 The Civil Rights Movement Archive is an incredible source of information on this era. See the 1960 page for information on the Sit-In movement. 13 Luke 18:1-5. (NRSVue) 14 Greek: ἀντιδίκου (antidikou). NRSVue translates this as “accuser” but that translation annoys me, so I’m not using it here. It’s referring to the other party in a lawsuit, not specifically the plaintiff (the widow is clearly the one seeking justice). The translation is distinguishing the technical word for “other party in a lawsuit” from a more general “person opposing me” (ἀντικείμενος). But I think it muddies the point of this passage. Yes, I know this is way too much detail about a one-word, trivial translation choice, but you’re clearly the kind of person who likes to read the footnotes. 15 Greek: ὑπωπιάζω (hupópiazó). A boxing term that means to strike beneath the eye and create a bruise (i.e. give a black eye). NRSVue offers “slap me in the face” as an alternate translation for this verse. It’s a metaphor for “harass” or “wear down” as a boxer might with jabbing punches. The author of Luke was not actually suggesting the judge was afraid the widow would beat him up. Sorry. Some suggest that “give a black eye” had the same metaphorical sense we use today, as in “publically shame,” but I haven’t seen much evidence supporting that. 16 Gallup: “Same-Sex Relations, Marriage Still Supported by Most in U.S.” June 24, 2024. 17 NPR/PBS/Marist: “Two-thirds of Americans say ICE has 'gone too far' in immigration enforcement.” Feb 5, 2026. 18 Center for Immigration Studies. June 29, 2026. 19 PRRI: LGBTQ Rights Across All 50 States. March 4, 2025. 20 Gallup: “U.S. Approval of Interracial Marriage at New High of 94%.” Sept 10, 2021. 21 Pew: “How public attitudes toward Martin Luther King Jr. have changed since the 1960s.” Aug 10, 2023. 22 “The Dilemma and the Challenge Facing the Negro Today,” June 17, 1962 (conjectured). Note that accurately citing MLK speeches is extremely challenging. King recycled a lot of stock passages, sometimes at length, so you can’t just look for “adjourn the councils of despair” and think you have the right speech. He used that phrase in at least three speeches. Do not trust the sourcing from random YouTube videos. They’re usually wrong. The best source I’ve found is the Stanford King Institute site (kinginstitute.stanford.edu), but its search is very poor. It’s best to use a search engine with “site:kinginstitute.stanford.edu”.

Gathering Music (Dorothy Bognar, guest musician) Welcome Centering Prelude Ernesto Nazareth: Odeon Chalice Lighting and Opening Words Opening Hymn #360 "Here We Have Gathered" Words: Alicia S. Carpenter; Music: Genevan Psalter Dorothy Bognar, piano Here we have gathered side by side; circle of kinship, come and step inside! May all who seek here find a kindly word; may all who speak here feel they have been heard. Sing now together this, our hearts' own song. Here we have gathered, called to celebrate days of our lifetime, matters small and great: we of all ages, women, children, men, infants and sages, sharing what we can. Sing now together this, our hearts' own song. Life has its battles, sorrows, and regret: but in the shadows, let us not forget: we who now gather know each other's pain; kindness can heal us: as we give, we gain. Sing now in friendship this, our hearts' own song. Time For All Ages "I am Me" by Susan Verde Hymn #1057 "Go Lifted Up" Words & Music by Mortimer Barron (repeat 2x) Go lifted up, Love bless your way, moonlight, starlight guide your journey into peace and the brightness of day. Announcements Introduction to the Service The Smokey Mirror Joys and 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. The recipients of our July Community Outreach offering are the MACC Food Pantry, the Hockanum Valley Food Pantry, the CT Mutual Aid East of the River Food Pantry, and the TLC Foundation. Offering Music Federico Mompou: Cancion y Danza 6 Homily Be Impeccable With Your Word Sam Taylor Musical Interlude Homily Don't Take Things Personally Liz Garmise Closing Hymn #1008 "When Our Heart is in a Holy Place" Words & Music by Joyce Poley Dorothy Bognar, piano Chorus: When our heart is in a holy place, When our heart is in a holy place, We are bless'd with love and amazing grace, When our heart is in a holy place. When we trust the wisdom in each of us, Ev'ry color ev'ry creed and kind, And we see our faces in each other's eyes, Then our heart is in a holy place. Chorus When we tell our story from deep inside, And we listen with a loving mind, And we hear our voices in each other's words, Then our heart is in a holy place. Chorus When we share the silence of sacred space, And the God of our Heart stirs within, And we feel the power of each other's faith, Then our heart is in a holy place. Chorus 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 Announcements Centering Prelude "Fanfare for the Common Man" By Aaron Copland; arr. by Mary Bopp Performed by Mary Bopp, piano Chalice Lighting and Opening Words Opening Hymn #205 "Amazing Grace" Words by John Newton Mary Bopp, piano 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. Joys and Concerns Hymn #153 "Oh, I Woke Up This Morning" African American spiritual Oh, I woke up this morning with my mind stayed on freedom. Woke up this morning with my mind stayed on freedom. Woke up this morning with my mind stayed on freedom. Hallelu, Hallelu, Halleluia. I was walking and talking with my mind ... I was singing and praying with my mind ... Oh, I woke up this morning with my mind ... 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. The recipients of our July Community Outreach offering are the MACC Food Pantry, the Hockanum Valley Food Pantry, the CT Mutual Aid East of the River Food Pantry, and the TLC Foundation. Offering Music "Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor" Words and music by Irving Berlin Performed by Mary Bopp, piano Reflection (Rob Napier) "The Idea of America" Closing Hymn #169 "We Shall Overcome" African American spiritual Mary Bopp, piano We shall overcome, we shall overcome, we shall overcome someday! Oh, deep in my heart I do believe we shall overcome someday! We'll walk hand in hand ... We shall all be free ... We shall live in peace ... 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 (Martha Larson) Announcements Centering Chalice Lighting "Let Us All Sing" Let us all sing! It's good for almost anything. It's good for dusty musty throats to let out gusty lusty notes. It's good for people, frogs and goats to open up and sing. It's good for tongues and necks and knees of people, bees and chimpanzees. So, if by chance you're one of these, open up! Open up and sing! Sing! Sing! It's good for almost anything. Intro to the Service Hymn #1 #361 "Enter, Rejoice & Come In" Words & Music by Louise Ruspini Hymn #2 #188 "Come, Come, Whoever You Are" Words adapted from Rumi Music by Lynn Adair Ungar Hymn #3 #38 "Morning Has Broken" Words by Eleanor Farjeon Gaelic Melody with harmony by David Evans Hymn #4 #298 "Wake, Now, My Senses" Performed by Larry Lunden Words by Thomas J.S. Mikelson Traditional Irish Melody with harmony by Carlton R. Young Hymn #5 #21 "For the Beauty of the Earth" Words by Folliott Sandford Pierpoint Music by Conrad Kocher Introductions, Joys & Concerns All are free to share briefly (1-2 sentences). Visitors may introduce themselves. Hymn #6 #123 "Spirit of Life" Words & Music by Carolyn McDade Hymn #7 #1007 "There's a River Flowin' in My Soul" Words & Music by Rose Sanders Hymn #8 #159 "This is My Song" Words by Lloyd Stone Music by Jean Sibelius Hymn #9 #155 "Circle 'Round for Freedom" Words & Music by Linda Hirschhorn Offertory Continuing our practice of sharing our gifts with the community beyond our walls, fifty percent of our Sunday plate collections for the month will be shared with Trans Voices 365. Hymn #10 #1064 "Blue Boat Home" Performed by Jenn Richard Words by Peter Mayer Music by Roland Hugh Prichard, adapted by Peter Mayer Hymn #11 #95 "There is More Love Somewhere" African American Hymn Hymn #12 #108 "My Life Flows On in Endless Song" Introduction by Susan Barlow Traditional words, Verse #3 by Doris Plenn Music by Robert Lowry Hymn #13 #1009 "Meditation on Breathing" Words & Music by Sarah Dan Jones Hymn #14 #131 "Love Will Guide Us" Performed by Jenn Richard Words by Sally Rogers Traditional music arranged by Berry A. Wylder Hymn #15 #259 "We Three Kings of Orient Are" Words & Music by John Henry Hopkins, Jr. Hymn #16 #1053 "How Could Anyone" Introduction by Mike Baxter Words & Music by Libby Roderick Hymn #17 #190 "Light of Ages and of Nations" Introduction by Martha Larson Words by Samuel Longfellow Music by Franz Joseph Haydn Hymn #18 #169 "We Shall Overcome" African American Spiritual Hymn #19 #83 Winds Be Still" Words by Richard S. Kimball Music by Samuel Sebastian Wesley Closing Hymn #1 "May Nothing Evil Cross This Door" Performed by Jenn Richard Words by Louis Untermeyer Music by Robert N. Quaile Extinguishing the Chalice "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 in all the days to come.

“Here comes the sun, and I say ‘It’s all right.’”[1] When our world is not all right—and, as you know, it’s not—we need music, poetry, art, dance, literature, worship, prayers and sermons that instill in us the confidence that there are reliable paths forward through the pain and the mess, that the people who care about people and not profits, the people who care about the planet and not profits—including ourselves—are collectively going to find a way, are going to prevail, and are justified in proclaiming “it’s all right,” or at least trusting that it will be. We need that message. And it seems to me that the summer solstice, which occurred at approximately 4:24 this morning (for those of us here at approximately 41° North of the Equator and 72° west of the Greenwich meridian) the summer solstice—the day among all the days of the year with the longest span of sunlight in the northern hemisphere—is a fine day to proclaim “it’s all right.” Turn to your neighbor and say “it’s all right.” Online folks: turn on your videos and pronounce the words “it’s all right.” Happy solstice! **** But the nation is not all right. The world is not all right. As this is my final sermon of the September-to-June congregational year, and as it is my custom during my final sermon to reflect on the year that has just passed, I’ll begin by saying that all year long I have felt keenly the tension between wanting to assure myself, you and people in the wider community that “it’s all right, we’ll be ok, we’re gonna get through this:” and, at the same time, wanting and needing to be completely honest, sober, realistic and clear-eyed about the rise of authoritarianism in our country and abroad; relentless attacks on the institutions that sustain our democracy; attacks on voting and federal government jobs that reek of old-school, anti-back racism; the unconstitutional abduction and detainment of immigrants; attacks on LGBTQIA+ people and communities with a particularly cruel, even genocidal focus on transgender people, expressed most recently in the May 6th White House counter-terrorism strategy memo which sinfully identifies “radically pro-transgender groups” as a terrorist threat to the United States;[2] the slow dismantling of time-honored social safety net programs like Medicaid and SNAP with no apparent purpose other than to lower taxes for the country’s wealthiest citizens; attacks on scientifically-verified public health regimens and standards; attacks on higher education for the crime of wokeness; the dismantling of the Department of Education; abandonment of the nation’s environmental and renewable energy commitments; the blatantly unnecessary and inflation-causing war in Iran, etc. It’s all right. It’s not all right. That’s the tension I feel as a preacher and a pastor. I don’t have a single colleague who doesn’t feel this tension. So I wonder, when things are not all right, how can we justify preaching the message that “it’s all right?” This year I preached a lot about Unitarian and Universalist history, in part as a reminder that our spiritual forebears faced moments when the country was not all right, when they had every reason to despair, yet they found the confidence that things would be “all right.” They also understood they had a role to play, had a responsibility to act, had power to exercise. They had agency. In January I spoke about Universalist and Unitarian spiritual forebears who fought against slavery in the 18th and 19th centuries, and for civil rights in the 20th century. In March, near the start of the Iran war, I spoke about Unitarian and Universalist women who had served as Civil War nurses and, through their later writing and activism, helped shape a feminist anti-war spiritual identity animates Unitarian Universalism to this day. I also led two history tours to Boston and Concord, MA—one with our Affirmation youth in November, the other with twelve adults in May. On both trips we toured Orchard House in Concord, the home of the celebrated writer, Louisa May Alcott. It’s always fascinating to me how we can spend a day in Boston, visit the historic downtown congregations, learn about their amazing history going back to the 17th and 18th centuries, and still wonder, “Where did Unitarian Universalism as we know it today come from?” Our UU ways of doing theology, our reverence for nature, our appreciation of the world’s religions, our understanding of creativity as a spiritual path, our trust in the individual to chart their own spiritual course, our faithful valuing of the scientific method—where did all that come from? Then we leave Boston to visit Concord, which birthed the Transcendentalist movement in the 1830s and 1840s—which shaped Louisa May Alcott—and it becomes much more clear. Certainly, our roots lie in Boston with the Puritan colonists, and we need to wrestle with that; but when we visit Concord, we start to encounter language, theology and a variety of spiritual and social commitments that sound much more like who we are today. I want to share a few passages from Alcott’s 1872 book entitled Work: A Story of Experience, which help me navigate the tension between “not all right” and “all right.” Published a few years after her most famous book, Little Women, Work tells the story of Christie Devon, a young adult and orphan living with her moderately well-to-do aunt and uncle, who decides to seek her independence through working. She moves into an urban boarding house and works: as a domestic servant, an actress, a governess, a companion to a teenager with disabilities, a seamstress, etc., all of which Louisa May Alcott engaged in prior to her success as a writer. In the midst of a deep depression, Christie contemplates going to church, but she can’t find one that suits her. Her critique of churches reminds me of the conversations we have at our Intro to UU classes when participants talk about their past experiences with organized religions, which are not always pleasant. [Christie] went to many churches, studied many creeds, and watched their fruits as well as she could; but still remained unsatisfied. Some were cold and narrow, some seemed theatrical and superficial, some stern and terrible, none simple, sweet, and strong enough for humanity’s needs. There was too much machinery, too many walls, laws, and penalties…. Too much fear, too little love; too many saints and intercessors, too little faith in the instincts of the soul which turns to God as flowers to the sun. Too much idle strife about names and creeds; too little knowledge of the natural religion which has no name but godliness, whose creed is boundless and benignant as the sunshine, whose faith is as the tender trust of little children in their mother’s love…. A God of wrath I cannot love; a God that must be propitiated, adorned, and adored like an idol I cannot respect; and a God who can be blinded to men’s iniquities through the week by a little beating of the breast and bowing down on the seventh day, I cannot serve.[3] A few chapters later, as she’s coming out of her depression, a friend suggests she try Rev. Power’s church. Rev. Power is modeled after the transcendentalist and abolitionist Unitarian minister Theodore Parker. (If you watched the opening ceremony for the Barack Obama Presidential Center, you might have noticed that Obama concluded his speech with a few paragraphs about Parker.[4]) At the height of his career Parker led a 2,000-member congregation called the 28th Congregational Society. Today we’d call it a mega church. Alcott attended services there. When Christie worships at Rev. Power’s church, the first thing she notices is its diversity. All sat at ease, rich and poor, black and white, young and old. When Rev. Power announces the first hymn, she writes: Everybody did sing. Not harmoniously, but heartily, led by an organ, which the voices followed at their own sweet will. Then a prayer. Christie had never heard a prayer like that before … so comprehensive, so brief. A quiet talk with God, asking nothing but more love and duty toward him and our fellow-men; thanking him for many mercies, and confiding all things trustfully to the “dear father and mother of souls.” (As an aside, Parker was one of the first American ministers to endorse the women’s suffrage movement, and he famously and controversially referred to God as both Father and Mother.) Then, at that fictional first service, Power’s sermon critiqued the money-focused, capitalist culture of the day. Alcott writes: The ashes of the ancient hypocrites and Pharisees was left in peace, but those now living were heartily denounced; modern money-changers scourged out of the temple, and the everlasting truth set up therein. And I love the way the service ends: Another hymn, and a benediction that seemed like a fit grace after meat, [though I note the Alcotts were vegans] and then the crowd poured out; not yawning, thinking of best clothes, or longing for dinner, but waked up, full of talk, and eager to do something to redeem the country and the world.[5] For the first time in her life religion seemed a visible and vital thing; a power that she could grasp and feel, take into her life and make her daily bread.[6] **** In her tour of local churches, Christie found too much fear, too little love. Too much fear, too little love. My interpretation: She was looking for a congregation that centered love—love for God, love for each other, love for humanity and, we might add today, love for the planet. In looking back over this past year, I think we center love pretty well here at UUSE. It’s not perfect, but then Rev. Power’s church couldn’t sing in harmony! I see our love in the way we embrace our children and youth: six infants dedicated on May 17th, five youth affirmed on June 7th, and all manner of kids bridging and performing in last Sunday’s Children and Youth Ministry service. I see it in the steady growth of our adult membership: 36 new members over the last two congregational years. I see it in the way we mourn and celebrate our deceased love ones, the way we speak the truths of their lives, the way they live on in our hearts and make us laugh and smile long after they’re gone. I see it in all those who volunteer as leaders, for fundraisers, for committees, teaching children and youth, and more. I see it in the way so many of you show up for the rallies and the protests, that regular embodied testament to your frustration and anger at how not “all right” things are. I see it in all the people who’ve signed up to be part of our Good Neighbor teams, supporting the families of immigrants unfairly detained by ICE. (By the way, in May we activated our first Good Neighbor Team and raised $400 for a young Peruvian mom from Bristol who is currently being detained at a facility in Louisiana.) I see it in all those who’ve signed up to participate in our statewide UU effort to help relocate transgender people who are moving from dangerous states to safer states like Connecticut. I saw it in everyone who showed up for the first ever Manchester Pride festival. I see it in the way our congregation is held in high esteem by leaders and organizations around the state. No, we are not perfect. Yes, we have work to do. But I think we put love at the center. I think we’re courageous. And I think we recognize we are not powerless when the nation and the world are not all right. We recognize, as so many of our spiritual forebears did, that we have a role to play, a responsibility to act, power to exercise. We have agency. The world is not all right. The nation is not all right. But with this loving faith, we are also justified in proclaiming, “it’s all right.” And every Sunday, no matter who is in the pulpit, it is my hope that you find religion, in the words of Louisa May Alcott, to be a visible and vital thing, a power that you can grasp. And when you depart into the coming week, you are waked up and eager to do something to redeem the country and the world. Here comes the sun. It’s all right. Go forth and redeem the country and the world. Amen and blessed be. [1] Harrison, George, “Here Comes the Sun,” Abbey Road (Apple Records, 1969). Track 1. [2] The United States 2026 Counter-Terrorism Strategy, page 7, May 6, 2026. See: https://www.whitehouse.gov/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/2026-USCT-Strategy-1.pdf. [3] Alcott, Louisa May, Work: A Story of Experience (New York: Penguin Books, 1994) pp. 115-116. [4] Read the full text of President Obama’s speech at https://barackobama.medium.com/president-obama-and-mrs-obamas-remarks-at-the-opening-of-the-obama-presidential-center-cb614fd04bdd. [5] Ibid., p. 159 – 161. [6] Ibid., p. 166.

Summer Solstice (4:24 am) Gathering Music Welcome and Announcements Centering Prelude "Solstice Meditation" Mary Bopp Chalice Lighting and Opening Words #446 "To the Four Directions" Spirit of the East, Spirit of Air, of Morning and Springtime Be with us as the sun rises in times of beginning, in times of planting. Inspire us with the fresh breath of courage as we go forth into new adventures. Spirit of the South, Spirit of Fire, of noontime and Summer. Be with us through the heat of the day and help us to be ever growing. Warm us with strength and energy for the work that awaits us. Spirit of the West, Spirit of Water, of evening and autumn Be with us as the sun sets and help us to enjoy a rich harvest. Flow through us with a cooling, healing quietness and bring us peace. Spirit of the North, Spirit of Earth, of nighttime and winter Be with us in the darkness in the time of gestation. Ground us in the wisdom of the changing seasons as we celebrate the spiraling journey of our lives Opening Hymn #66 "When the Summer Sun is Shining" Words by Sydney Henry Knight Music from The Southern Harmony, 1855, arr. by Margaret W. Mealy Rob Napier, song leader When the summer sun is shining over golden land and sea, and the flowers in the hedgerow welcome butterfly and bee; then my open heart is glowing, full of warmth for everyone, and I feel an inner beauty which reflects the summer sun. When the summer clouds of thunder bring the long-awaited rain, and the thirsty soil is moistened and the grass is green again; then I long for summer sunshine, but I know that clouds and tears are a part of life's refreshment, like the rainbow's hopes and fears. In the cool of summer evening, when the dancing insects play, and in garden street and meadow linger echoes of the day; then my heart is full of yearning; hopes and mem'ries flood the whole of my being, reaching inwards to the corners of my soul. New Member Welcome Introductions (Membership Committee co-chairs) The Charge (Minister) As you take up membership in the Unitarian Universalist Society East, I charge you to share with us who you are. Share your creativity, your experiences, your questions, your doubts, your beliefs, and all your discoveries of life's meaning. I charge you to shake us up with your ideas, to stir us up with your conscience, to inspire us with your actions, and to stimulate our hopes with your dreams of what life can be. Congregational Welcome (Congregation) We welcome you as companions in the search for truth and meaning. We invite you to share in our mission of caring for one another, encouraging each other in spiritual growth, working for justice and peace in the wider community, and living in harmony with the earth. We join our gifts with yours, trusting in the power of community to bring freedom, healing and love. New Member Affirmation (New members) We join the Unitarian Universalist Society East out of a desire and willingness to participate in a liberal religious congregation. We pledge to share our time, energy and gifts; to diligently seek our spiritual truths; and to strengthen the bonds of community. Responsive Hymn "This Meetinghoue" words adapted from Eugene Sander by Josh Pawelek Music by Jean Sibelius This meetinghouse, A place of love and gladness. Where all may meet, to seek the common good. A source of strength, to face each doubt and sadness. Where every dream, is known and understood. This meetinghouse, ask those who came before, And found themselves, by crossing through its door. Joys and Concerns Musical Meditation Offering Our June Community Outreach offering is dedicated to Trans Voices and Visibility-365 (TV-365). This minister of the Metropolitan Community Church in Hartford is dedicated to uplifting and supporting the well-being of transgender individuals in Connecticut by meeting basic human needs, and providing information, referrals, service coordination and support to individuals. This ministry also works to support and collaborate with relevant support groups and service providers. Their emphasis is on caring for 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 "Here Comes the Sun" By George Harrison Rob Napier, vocals Mary Bopp, piano Sermon "It's All Right" Rev. Josh Pawelek Closing Hymn #1068 "Rising Green" Words and music by Carolyn McDade, arr. by Jim Scott Rob Napier, song leader My blood doth rise in the roots of yon oak, her sap doth run in my veins. Boundless my soul like the open sky where the stars forever have lain. Where the stars, where the stars, where the stars forever have lain. My hands hold the weavings of time without end, my sight as deep as the sea. Beating, my heart sounds the measures of old, that of love's eternity. That of love, that of love, that of love's eternity. I feel the tides as they answer the moon, rushing on a far distant sand. Winging my song is the wind of my breast and my love blows over the land. And my love, and my love, and my love blows over the land. My foot carries days of the old into new, our dreaming shows us the way. Wondrous our faith settles deep in the earth, rising green to bring a new day. Rising green, rising green, rising green to bring a new day. Extinguishing the Chalice and Opening the Circle 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 (Michelle Spadaccini) Announcements (Rev. Josh Pawelek) Centering Prelude An Original Composition Performed by Vera Elzerman, drum and Benjamin Elzerman, bagpipes Chalice Lighting and Opening Words (Michelle Spadaccini, Vera Elzerman and Maggie McGovney-Ingram) Opening Hymn #188 "Come, Come, Whoever You Are" Words adapted from Rumi Music by Lynn Adair Ungar Mary Bopp, piano (song in the round) Come, come, whoever you are, wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. Ours is no caravan of despair. Come, yet again come. Reflection Joys and Concerns Musical Interlude "Pirates of the Caribbean" Music by Hans Zimmer Lonnie Vasquez-O'Brien, violin Offering The recipient of our community outreach offering for the month of June is Trans Voices & Visibility-365 (TV-365), a ministry of the Metropolitan Community Church of Hartford, 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. Offering Music "Tarantella (Suzuki Cello Book 6)" Music by Henry William Squire Performed by Elliot Vadas, cello and Mary Bopp, piano Recognition & Gratitude Musical Interlude "Ode to Joy" Music by Ludwig van Beethoven Performed by Charlie Vasquez-O'Brien, saxophone Bridging (Michelle Spadaccini and Kaitlyn Blesso) Entering Jr. Youth Group: Xander Fabrycki, Quincy Gilbert, Lonnie Vasquez-O'Brien, Forrest Schultz Entering High School Youth Group: Samuel Gonzalez Graduating Seniors: Dean Gonzalez; Clover Schultz Congregation Response "A Blessing for Bridging" By Maureen Killoran As you step forward into your next chapter, we send with you our fondest hopes and blessings. May life bring enough challenge to fuel your dreams, enough affirmation to honor your gifts and enough nurture to give your spirit peace. Believe in your vision. Follow your dreams. And know always that, when you return to us, here you will find the hands of friends. Presentation of Certificates (Michelle Spadaccini and Kaitlyn Blesso) DYSA recipients: Genna Bender, Margeaux Ford, Charlotte Gonzalez, Claude Gonzalez, Dean Gonzalez, Olive O'Brien-Cohen, Odin Sakon Sevin, Elliot Vadas USH Nightline Mission recipients: Charlotte Gonzalez, Claude Gonzalez, Dean Gonzalez, Samuel Gonzalez, Olive O'Brien-Cohen, Odin Sakon Sevin Words from the Minister Closing Hymn #118 "This Little Light of Mine" Words & Music: African American spiritual Mary Bopp, piano 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. Ev'rywhere I go, I'm gonna let it shine. Ev'rywhere I go, I'm gonna let it shine. Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine. Building up a world, I'm gonna let it shine. Building up a world, I'm gonna let it shine. Building up a world, I'm gonna let it shine. Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine. Extinguishing the Chalice and Closing Words "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 in all the days to come.