Sunday Service, 2 February 2025
Led by Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall and Dr. Patricia Brewerton
Musical Prelude: Bourée 1 and 2 from Suite for Solo Cello in C Major by J. S. Bach (performed by Abby Lorimier and Andrew Robinson)
Opening Words: ‘Morning Prayer’ by Jo James (adapted)
We are here to approach
the authentic,
the substantial
and the truthful,
to follow our inner calling,
to invoke our deepest selves
and more than this:
we are here to encounter the divine
in ourselves,
the sacred in one another
and to find connection with
the holy in all things.
May we be calm,
in action and in thought,
may we find patience and stillness
as we settle back from our individual pace of task and responsibility
and find instead a gentler pace
which emerges from within us
and emerges from this gathering.
As we enter into stillness and quiet
may we find a gentleness
that reassures us
a grace that is familiar
a tenderness that confirms
that hope is coming,
hope is among us
right here and right now. (pause)
Words of Welcome and Introduction:
These words adapted from Jo James welcome all who have gathered this morning for our Sunday service. Welcome to those who have gathered in-person at Essex Church, to all who are joining us via Zoom, and anyone watching or listening at a later date via YouTube or the podcast. For anyone who doesn’t know me, I’m Jane Blackall, and I’m minister with Kensington Unitarians.
This morning’s service is titled ‘Living in Hope’ – a theme that was suggested by our very own Patricia Brewerton who will be sharing her own personal reflections on later on in the service. In the face of troubling world events, and tough personal circumstances, it is all too easy to sink into hopelessness and despair. So in the next hour will reflect on ways in which we might find authentic hope – wise hope – without resorting to false optimism or giving in to the temptation of denial about the reality of what we are facing, individually and collectively, at this moment.
As the theologian Jim Wallis has written: ‘Hope is a spiritual and even religious choice. Hope is not a feeling; it is a decision. And the decision for hope is based on what you believe at the deepest levels — what your most basic convictions are about the world and what the future holds. You choose hope, not as a naive wish, but as a choice, with your eyes wide open to the reality of the world.’
Chalice Lighting: ‘Carry On the Light of Hope’ by Paul Sprecher (adapted)
Let’s light our chalice flame now, as we do each week. It’s a moment for us to stop and take a breath, settle ourselves down, put aside any preoccupations we came in carrying. This simple ritual connects us in solidarity with Unitarians and Unitarian Universalists the world over, and reminds us of the proud and historic progressive religious tradition of which this gathering is part.
(light chalice)
We light this chalice, symbol of our faith, to honour
the courage of those who have struggled for freedom,
the persistence of those who've laboured for justice,
and the love of those who've built beloved communities
to carry on the light of hope. May it inspire us to do likewise.
Hymn 43 (purple): ‘Gather the Spirit’
Let’s sing together. Our first hymn this morning is number 43 in the purple hymn book: ‘Gather the Spirit’. For those joining via zoom the words will be up on screen (as they will for all our hymns). Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer and let’s sing up as best we can.
Gather the spirit, harvest the power.
Our separate fires will kindle one flame.
Witness the mystery of this hour.
Our trials in this light appear all the same.
Gather in peace, gather in thanks.
Gather in sympathy now and then.
Gather in hope, compassion and strength.
Gather to celebrate once again.
Gather the spirit of heart and mind.
Seeds for the sowing are laid in store.
Nurtured in love and conscience refined,
with body and spirit united once more.
Gather in peace, gather in thanks.
Gather in sympathy now and then.
Gather in hope, compassion and strength.
Gather to celebrate once again.
Gather the spirit growing in all,
drawn by the moon and fed by the sun.
Winter to spring, and summer to fall,
the chorus of life resounding as one.
Gather in peace, gather in thanks.
Gather in sympathy now and then.
Gather in hope, compassion and strength.
Gather to celebrate once again.
Candles of Joy and Concern:
Each week when we gather together, we share a simple ritual of candles of joy and concern, an opportunity to light a candle and share something that is in our heart with the community. So we’ve an opportunity now, for anyone who would like to do so, to light a candle and say a few words about what it represents. We’ll go to the people in the building first, then to Zoom.
So I invite some of you here in person to come and light a candle and then if you wish to tell us briefly who or what you light your candle for. I’m going to ask you to come to the lectern to speak this time as I really want people to be able to hear you and I don’t want to keep nagging you about getting close to the handheld mic. And if you can’t get to the microphone give me a wave and I’ll bring a handheld mic over to you. Thank you.
(in person candles)
And if that’s everyone in the room we’ll go over to the people on Zoom next – you might like to switch to gallery view at this stage – just unmute yourselves when you are ready and speak out – and we should be able to hear you and see you up on the big screen here in the church.
(zoom candles)
And I’m going to light one more candle, as we often do, to represent all those joys and concerns that we hold in our hearts this day, but which we don’t feel able to speak out loud. (light candle)
Time of Prayer & Reflection: based on words by Christin Green
Let’s take those joys and concerns into an extended time of prayer. This prayer is based on some words by Christin Green. You might want to adjust your position for comfort, close your eyes, or soften your gaze. There might be a posture that helps you feel more prayerful. Whatever works for you. Do whatever you need to do to get into the right state of body and mind for us to pray together – to be fully present here and now, in this sacred time and space – with ourselves, with each other, and with that which is both within us and beyond us. (pause)
Spirit of Life, God of All Love, in whom we live and move and have our being,
we turn our full attention to you, the light within and without,
as we tune in to the depths of this life, and the greater wisdom
to which – and through which – we are all intimately connected.
Be with us now as we allow ourselves to drop into the
silence and stillness at the very centre of our being. (pause)
Spirit of Life, God of All Love, Source of Truth and Goodness;
Help us to feel You in our breathing in and breathing out.
Quiet our minds even if only for a moment.
Still our bodies even if only for a moment.
Soothe our souls in this holy moment.
When uncertainty pervades, give us rest from worry.
When fear rises, give us an inner peace.
When pain surfaces, give us a balm.
Some of our spirits are so weary,
Some of our bodies feel exhausted,
Some of our minds feel frantic and uneasy.
Great Spirit, remind us of the cycles of life
so that we might turn toward the dawn,
turn toward the thaw, toward rebirth and New Hope.
Make that hope alive in us; ignite it
so that it burns brighter than our fears.
And may that bright hope shine for others to witness,
that our Faith might be a beacon
and our Love a lamp to light the way.
Fill us with gratitude as we turn toward one another
in the human family, never alone on our journeys,
always reminded of that greater Love that holds all. (pause)
And let us take a few quiet moments now to look inward, to get in touch with what’s real,
what is going on beneath the surface of our lives this morning. Let us notice what we’re carrying.
What troubles us. What questions or uncertainties we are faced with. What hopes we nurture.
(pause)
And from that place of realness – silently, inwardly, ask for what you most need – don’t get too hung up on who or what you’re asking – maybe it’s God, maybe you’re casting it out into the Universe. Even if you’re the only one to hear your prayer – be clear on what you need in this moment.
(pause)
And let us also be sure to give thanks for what we already have. Let us look back on the week and recall all those moments – large or small – of kindness, generosity, comfort – even moments of joy. Silently, inwardly, take the time to savour those gifts, connect with gratitude, and take in the good. (pause)
And let us turn outwards now, shifting our attention to the world around us, from those who are closest to our heart, to neighbours and strangers, our wider community, stretching ever onward,
as we sense our connection to every living being we share this planet with, and hold them all in love. (pause)
Spirit of Life – God of all Love – as this time of prayer comes to a close, we offer up
our joys and concerns, our hopes and fears, our beauty and brokenness,
and we call on you for insight, healing, and renewal.
As we look forward now to the coming week,
help us to live well each day and be our best selves;
using our unique gifts in the service of love, justice and peace. Amen.
Hymn (on sheet): ‘A Dream of Widening Love’
Let’s sing again now – it’s on your hymn sheets – a lovely gentle one: ‘A Dream of Widening Love’.
We rest awhile in quietness,
The world not to forget,
But rather shape the silence
And words and thoughts we've met
To nobler ways of living,
To hope-filled truth, above
Our narrow selves, to seek one
Great dream of widening love.
We share a world where sorrow
And poverty and greed
Live side by side with privilege
Of wealth beyond true need;
Yet though we cannot alter
All ways of humankind,
We ask a strength within us
To right the wrongs we find.
We know that strength is weakened
By narrow truths and fears,
That still we claim true knowledge,
Deny the changing years:
Yet here, within the silence,
We question what we know,
That through more honest persons
All humankind may grow.
To find Eternal Meaning
Deep in each passing hour,
To seek beyond the confines
Of our small powers, one Power.
Strength deep within our being,
Arise as hope and will:
Come, silent living Spirit,
With peace our spirits fill.
Reading: ‘Abandon Hope?’ by James Ford (excerpts, adapted)
This piece, by Unitarian Universalist minister and Zen teacher James Ford, was published very recently on his blog in the context of the current political situation in the United States. He writes:
Buddhism traditionally hasn’t been too enamoured with hope. Pema Chodron critiques the concept of hope as a form of clinging. In her view, hope can create a subtle resistance to the present. Zen suggests that the transformative power of life comes from being fully present in the moment, beyond the dualities of hope and despair or any other distractions that pull us from our life as it is, right now.
Lately I have been re-examining hope, and maybe I need to rename it, like Roshi Joan Halifax has done. In her work on social activism, she often discusses wise hope. She suggests the need for a hope that is not attached to specific outcomes but is grounded in compassionate action. She says, Wise hope is not seeing things unrealistically but rather seeing things as they are – including the truth of suffering – both its existence and our capacity to transform it. This wise hope aligns with Zen’s emphasis on clear seeing and non-attachment, fostering a hope that supports engagement without delusion.
But I have discovered that hope does not lay down easy, and this persistence hints at the irrepressible nature of hope, which can persist even in the most hopeless-seeming conditions. This might reflect something fundamental about us messy humans—a yearning for connection, growth, or renewal that refuses to be extinguished. Perhaps this is why, even in Zen, hope is not entirely dismissed but rather reimagined. It is not about erasing hope but transforming it into something wiser, freer, and less entangled. Recently I read something intriguing Nick Cave had written on hope. He writes:
‘Hope is optimism with a broken heart. Hope has an earned understanding of the sorrowful or corrupted nature of things, yet it rises to attend to the world even still. We understand that our demoralisation becomes the most serious impediment to bettering the world. In its active form, hope is a supreme gesture of love, a radical and audacious duty, whereas despair is a stagnant rejection of life itself.’
These words resonate deeply. I wonder if Zen does not ask us to abandon hope entirely, but to abandon hope as we commonly understand it—as a wish for a specific outcome, as a tether to what we cannot control. Instead, Zen invites us to embody a deeper, more courageous form: hope with a broken heart.
As we sit, confronting all the challenges of our current moment, how might we reflect on the ways we can realize this in our practice and in our lives? My friends Erin Segal and Julie Cho have offered the concept of ongoingness. Ongoingness is the practice of letting go of hero narratives—the idea that liberation or change is achieved through singular, dramatic acts—and instead focusing on the everyday, collaborative, or interconnected efforts that sustain us. They remind us that ease often leads to more action and that even rest can be a form of resistance. Ongoingness reframes liberation as part of a larger story—one that began before us and will continue after us. It emphasizes care, connection, and the long view over quick fixes or final victories.
When we shift our understanding of hope to one of ongoingness, it becomes less about yearning for a specific outcome and more about engaging with life as it unfolds. This is the radical heart of Zen: meeting each moment fully, without clinging, and recognizing that the act of showing up is itself transformative. So let us meet the new year not with shallow optimism or deep despair, but with the profound clarity and compassion that Zen practice cultivates. In this way, perhaps hope need not betray us after all.
Words for Meditation: ‘Hope is the Thing with Feathers’ by Emily Dickinson (Patricia to read)
We’re moving into a time of meditation now. To take us into stillness I’m going to share perhaps the most famous poem on ‘hope’ – by Emily Dickinson. The words will take us into a few minutes of shared silence which will end with the sound of a bell. And then we’ll hear some music from Abby and Andrew. So let’s do what we need to do to get comfortable – adjust your position if you need to – perhaps put your feet flat on the floor to ground yourself – maybe close your eyes. As we always say, the words are just an offering, feel free to use this time to meditate in your own way.
“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -
And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -
I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.
Period of Silence and Stillness (~3 minutes) – end with a bell
Interlude: Cantique by Nadia Boulanger (performed by Abby Lorimier and Andrew Robinson)
Reflection: ‘Living in Hope’ by Patricia Brewerton
We live in hope … to which the response is often “we die in despair”. It’s usually used in a flippant way as in One day David will learn to shut cupboard doors behind him! I live in hope …
But our need for hope is not flippant. We do need to live in hope. And hope is not the same as optimism. I think it is more elusive, more spiritual perhaps.
I saw a film in the autumn which reminded of that poem Emily Dickinson wrote which begins “Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.” I saw the film BIRD twice in one week and would happily see it again. It tells the story of Bayley, a stroppy twelve-year-old tomboy. Andrea Arnold who made the film likes to challenge what we mean by disadvantaged, dysfunctional families so Bayley lives with her dad and brother in a squat – an abandoned office block – while her mother lives in another part of town with an abusive boyfriend and Bayley’s three younger siblings. You need to see the film to appreciate the challenge.
Our stroppy tomboy in a fit of pique runs out of her home and ends up sleeping in the open where she is wakened in the morning to see a strange young man coming across the field. This is BIRD the other main character in the film. At first, Bayley is suspicious of him, but they eventually become friends and together they plan to rescue Bayley’s mother and siblings from the abusive boyfriend. Unfortunately, things don’t turn out as planned and the boyfriend violently attacks both Bayley and Bird.
We see Bird lying on the floor and then, magically, feathers start to grow on his shoulders, and he starts to turn into a bird, a real bird and a very large bird. He grabs hold of the boyfriend and the last we see of him, he is being carried in Bird’s talons off into the far distance.
Dickinson’s poem uses a bird as a metaphor for hope. Hope is like a little bird which sings even in the roughest storm, hope is a comfort, and it requires nothing at all from us. Emily Dickinson lived with her family in a prosperous household in New England and was regarded as reclusive and somewhat eccentric. We can imagine her holding hope within her as she sat in her quiet room writing her many poems, which she did not seek to publish. What she hoped for we do not know but the mere fact of hoping seems to have given her comfort.
But that passive kind of hope is not what we see in Bird. He makes me think of Saint Augustine’s description of hope “Hope has two beautiful daughters. Their names are Anger and Courage, anger at the way things are and the courage to make sure they do not remain the same”. Bird is angry at the way things are, and he acts to put things right.
Anger is usually understood as a negative emotion not something one would describe as a beautiful daughter, loved and appreciated. There are lots of things going on in the world we are living in that make many of us angry. There is the fact of Climate Change, for one thing. And we all know that many people in our own City are suffering from homelessness and hunger, and we are all too aware of ongoing wars in many places around the world. But anger on its own is no use.
As many of you know, over the last fifteen months it is the conflict in Gaza which has weighed most heavily on me. Over the years I have campaigned on many issues, but none have caused me so much pain.
I have been studying the history of the conflict in Palestine for around twenty years. I have read countless books and articles on the subject and I get very angry about the way this is misrepresented in the media and how the world continues to turn a blind eye to the horrific suffering of the Palestinian people. This anger is destructive and without courage can easily turn to despair. And I know I lack the courage to join in with actions which could lead to imprisonment like the brave people who have been locked up for months now after disabling a factory producing parts of drones or planes which are used to kill. On days when there has been some particularly disturbing news from Gaza I really struggle with a mixture of emotions, anger, grief and frustration. But if this is all I have perhaps I should just look away, stop looking at distressing images and get on with my life. But that I fear would end in despair.
I think hope can also be described as the light at the end of the tunnel. There is a verse in John’s Gospel which reads “Light shines in the darkness and the darkness has never overcome it”. So, I looked for that light.
I found an article in Al Jazeera where the writer who for over a year had been reporting daily on the horrors he sees around him in Palestine, confessed that he had come to believe that “hope is a cockeyed fantasy”. He had begun to despair. Then he came across the Christmas sermon of the Lutheran Pastor of the Church of the Holy Nativity in Bethlehem, Rev. Munther Isaac and found a reason to hope.
He writes that In order to assure his listeners, believers or not, that hope exists and persists and cannot be extinguished by the purveyors of death and destruction Reverend Isaac talks about the resistance of the Palestinian people, their sumud. This is part of that sermon.
“It has been a time of resilience and even beauty. I think of all the heroes in Gaza. The doctors. The medics. The nurses. The first responders. The volunteers. Yes, the loss is enormous, but we have not lost our faith and our collective humanity. This is the beauty I am talking about. To succumb to despair is a betrayal of humanity’.
Resistance can take many forms but if it is going to succeed it must be propelled by hope. There must be a light at the end of the tunnel.
There was an article in The Guardian recently, you may have read it. It is about Osama Qashoo who has created a brand of Cola, Gaza Cola, which he sells to raise enough money to rebuild a hospital. Al Karama hospital has been reduced to rubble. Qashoo chose this hospital because it is small and, he says, won’t cost a lot of money to rebuild. How much, he doesn’t know, when will it happen, he doesn’t know. But, he says, “we are allowed to have our imagination, we have to dream otherwise we can’t live.” We live in hope, or we die in despair. He is already looking out for the best medical equipment and designs even down to the design of the lights and in the meantime a field hospital has been built using parachutes left behind from the air drops of aid.
Qashoo fled Palestine after being shot, imprisoned and tortured but he has not given up hope, he has not lost his humanity. In a scruffy café next to Archway Station in North London hope is kept alive as Fateen hand makes chocolate which she sells to raise funds for her people in Gaza.
Hope in a can of cola and a bar of chocolate.
Reverend Isaac again - “We must not rest or grow weary. To do so is to not only abandon the people of Gaza, but our own humanity. This is why we must continue talking about Gaza … and the systematic oppression and killing until it stops.” Everyone hopes this fragile ceasefire will last and that it can be a step on the path to justice and a real peace for all who live in that troubled land. To that end I live in hope.
Thank you for listening to me this morning – it takes courage to speak out and courage to listen – so thank you.
I am going to finish with a poem written by a much-loved and respected Professor of English Literature at The Islamic University of Gaza, Refaat Alareer. He wrote this poem for his young daughter during the bombardment of Gaza in 2014. He was killed in December 2023 and sadly his daughter was killed soon after.
If I must die
You must live
To tell my story.
To sell my things
To buy a piece of cloth and some strings
(Make it white with a long tail.)
So that a child, somewhere in Gaza,
While looking heaven in the eye
Awaiting his dad who left in a blaze
And bid no one farewell
Not even his flesh
Not even himself
Sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above
And thinks for a moment, an angel is there
Bringing back love.
If I must die
Let it bring hope
Let it be a tale.
Hymn (on sheet): ‘The World Needs Love’
Thanks Patricia. Let’s sing again. Our final hymn is on your hymn sheets, ‘The World Needs Love’.
The world needs love; so many hearts are hurting.
Grace, work through us, help us to spread your peace,
bringing to all - through your forgiving spirit -
freedom from guilt, from bitterness release.
Reconcile us; help us to share your calmness,
’till anger stills and all our conflicts cease.
The world needs hope, a vision for the future,
what life might be, if all would live in you.
Help us to lead - through your transforming spirit -
lives that reflect what you would have us do,
to share our gifts, show forth your loving kindness,
encourage all to find their hope in you.
The world needs faith, a willing dedication
of all we are and all we might yet be.
Help us to serve - through your empowering spirit -
in active faith in our community.
Love for each soul, respecting and upholding,
declares the worth of all humanity.
The world needs joy, a sense of celebration
that human lives have such diversity.
Help us to see - through your dynamic spirit -
each person’s part in life’s vitality.
Sharing our joys, supporting others’ sorrows
make our small world a better place to be.
Announcements:
Thanks to Ramona for tech-hosting and Shari for co-hosting. Thanks to Patricia for her reflection. Thanks to Abby and Andrew for lovely music today and Benjie for supporting our singing. Thanks to Juliet for greeting and Marianne for doing the coffee. For those of you who are here in-person – please do stay for a cuppa and cake – we’ve got a classic Victoria Sponge cake.
Tonight and Friday at 7pm we’ve got our ‘Heart and Soul’ online contemplative spiritual gathering – this week we’re considering ‘Disappointment’. Hopefully it will still be an uplifting gathering though!
On Wednesday the Poetry Group will be meeting here at 7pm – it’s a space to share and talk about poems – have a word with Brian if you want to know more and let him know what you plan to bring.
Looking a bit further ahead don’t forget there’s Nia with Sonya on Friday and yoga with Hannah next Sunday. And I’m very pleased to let you know that Community Singing is back on the 12th! Though as usual do let me know if you’re planning to come in case of last-minute changes…
If you haven’t already heard we’re planning to do our ‘Art Play Crafternoons’ on the third Sunday of each month so do save the date for that. The next one will be on Sunday 16th February. That’s a relaxed space for us to hang out for a couple of ours and get all the art materials out to play with.
This month’s title for the Better World Book Club is ‘Monsters: What Do We Do with Great Art by Bad People’ by Claire Dederer, all our loan copies have gone, but if you really want to come along and are struggling to access the book have a word with me and I’ll see what we can do.
Next Sunday we’ll be back here at 11am for a service titled ‘Other Loves’.
Details of all our various activities are printed on the back of the order of service, for you to take away, and also in the Friday email. Or why not take home a copy of our new fancy newsletter?
The congregation very much has a life beyond Sunday mornings; we encourage you to keep in touch, look out for each other, and do what you can to nurture supportive connections.
Time for our closing words and closing music now.
Benediction: based on words by Howard Zinn
So let us close with some words from Howard Zinn on hope. He said:
To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic.
It is based on the fact that human history is a history
not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness.
What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives.
If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something.
If we remember those times and places—and there are so many—
where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act,
and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction.
And if we do act, in however small a way,
we don’t have to wait for some grand utopian future.
The future is an infinite succession of presents,
and to live now as we think human beings should live,
in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvellous victory.
May it be so, for the greater good of all. Amen.
Closing Music: Latin for Alex by Walter Haberl (performed by Abby Lorimier and Andrew Robinson)
Rev. Dr. Jane Blackall and Dr. Patricia Brewerton
2nd February 2025