Living with Brokenness and Mending What Can Be Mended

Sunday Service, 29 September 2024

Led by Rev. Sheena Gabriel and Liz Tuckwell

Musical Prelude: Cavatina by Nicanor Abelardo (performed by Kiana Umali Garvey and Andrew Robinson)

Opening Words: ‘This Place is Sanctuary’ by Kathleen McTigue (adapted)

You who are broken-hearted,

Who woke today with winds of despair whistling through your mind,

Come in.

You who are brave, but wounded,

Limping through life, hurting with every step,

Come in.

You who are fearful, who live with shadows hovering over your shoulders,

Come in.

This place is sanctuary – and it is for you.

You who walk through your world with lightness and grace,

Who awoke this morning with strength and hope,

You who have everything to give,

Come in.

May this place be a riverbank to channel the sweet waters of your life,

The place where you are called by the world’s need.

Here we offer what we have, in love and trust.

Here we receive in gratitude.

Here we create a circle of community –

offering our gifts of breath, attention, and purpose. (pause)

Words of Welcome and Introduction:

These opening words adapted from Kathleen McTigue welcome all who have gathered this morning for our Sunday service. Welcome to those of you who have gathered in-person at Essex Church, to all who are joining us via Zoom, and anyone watching on YouTube or listening to the podcast. For anyone who doesn’t know me, I’m Patricia Brewerton, and I’m a member of Kensington Unitarians.

The focus of this morning’s service is about ‘Living with Brokenness.’. We’re very lucky to have Rev. Sheena Gabriel with us today to share her reflections on this theme. Sheena has chosen today’s readings, hymns, and prayers, to explore the theme on both a personal and collective level. And she’ll consider how we might learn to live with brokenness, whilst doing what we can, to mend what can be mended.

Chalice Lighting: ‘We Are the Flame’ by Lizzie Kingston Harrison (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 are the flame of this chalice.

May we dare to be seen, to dance our beautiful, vulnerable, dance.

May warmth embrace us, and light illuminate our sacred purpose.

We are the flame of this chalice.

May we burn brightly – safely held by this beloved community.

Each of us a single light emerging from, and forever embraced

by the brightness of the source of All Being

Hymn 28 (purple): ‘Dear Weaver of our Lives’ Design’

Let’s sing together. Our first hymn is 28 in your purple books: ‘Dear Weaver of our Lives’ Design’. It’s not one we know so I’m going to ask Andrew to play it through once before we sing. For those joining via zoom the words will be up on screen (as they will for all our hymns today). Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer and let’s sing up as best we can.

Dear weaver of our lives’ design

whose patterns all obey,

with skilful fingers gently guide

the sturdy threads that will survive

the tangle of our days.

Take up the fabric of our lives

with hands that gently hold;

bind in the ragged edge that care

would sunder and that pain would tear,

and mend our rav’ling souls.

Let eyes that in the plainest cloth

a hidden beauty see;

discern in us our richest hues,

show us the patterns we may use

to set our spirits free.

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 Margaret Kirk

Let’s take those joys and concerns into an extended time of prayer. This prayer includes some words by Margaret Kirk. You might first 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)

In our strong belief in the joys of life,

In our affirmation of what we know is good and true,

in listening to loved voices, in trusting,

in the delight of a tree woken by spring, and a face open with happiness,

Let us remember that for many delight is dulled by pain,

the suffering is real and our sense of self belief can quickly drain away.

Whilst we are folded here in community,

let us remember those who are not enfolded and comforted,

who have little to celebrate, who live in discomfort,

whose memories and present days are shackled with pain.

Let us remember those whose sense of themselves is thin and insubstantial.

Knowing that this is an earth of enormous richness,

of joy and beauty beyond measure,

Give us the capacity, whatever our pain, to sing aloud

to sing with strength –

to know that our songs will always transcend despair,

and to know and love our flawed preciousness, in all its fragile beauty.

(pause)

And in a few moments of shared stillness now, may we speak

inwardly some of those deepest prayers of our hearts —

the joys and sorrows we came in carrying –

in our own lives and the lives of the wider world.

Let us each lift up whatever is on our heart this day,

and silently ask for what we most need. (long 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 41 (purple): ‘From the Crush of Wealth and Power’

Our next hymn is number 41 in your purple books, ‘From the Crush of Wealth and Power’, I think this is another new one to us so I’ll ask Andrew to play it through before we sing.

From the crush of wealth and power,

something broken in us all,

waits the spirit’s silent hour

pleading with a poignant call,

bind all my wounds again.

Even now our hearts are wary

of the friend we need so much.

When I see the pain you carry,

shall I, with a gentle touch,

bind all your wounds again?

When our love for one another

makes our burdens light to bear,

find the sister and the brother,

hungry for the feast we share;

bind all their wounds again.

Every time our spirits languish

terrified to draw too near,

may we know each other’s anguish

and, with love that casts out fear,

bind all our wounds again.

In-Person Reading: ‘Mending the Broken World’ by Kathleen McTigue’ (edited) (read by Julia)

In early September I stop to watch my neighbour at work repairing a stone wall that lines the road perpendicular to ours. Built as all the old field walls of our region have been built, the stones are held by balance and judicious choice rather than by mortar. The wall was built well, but the weight of many decades has broken it here and there, with some stones fallen out of place or carried away for some other use.

As I watch him work, I see that about half of what he does is simply look at the stones in their haphazard piles, stroking his chin in thought. Then from time to time he rolls one from the pile onto the ground and turns it from side to side, pondering, or walks back to study again the place in the wall he’s trying to mend.

When he finally makes his choice, he’s sure. Each stone waits for the right opening, the place where its particular heft and shape fit as though cradled. Once in place, it is no longer merely a stone, but an essential piece of the wall, part of a larger thing taking shape as naturally as a tree flows from root to trunk to branch.

My neighbour is an ordinary working man, and sometimes we talk together about life and horses… But on this sunny September afternoon as I watch his eyes and hands become familiar with each stone and then lift it to shape the wall, it’s easy to imagine God at work in the immense universe, quietly humming, pulling our lives together into something strong and useful.

I don’t mean we’re mute or helpless, waiting passively for the great Stonemason to lift and move our lives or tell us where we belong. I mean only that there is a place for us, that our gifts — the shape of our minds and talents, the angles of our interest and concern — fit the needs of the world, the way my neighbour’s stones anchor themselves in the lengthening all.

I mean that the worlds possibilities shift and change each time we put ourselves into building something large and strong and beautiful. Whether or not we find room in our theologies for the word God, the world itself calls us to imagine ourselves essential to this engaged holiness, bringing forth what is ours to give of creation and strength, toward mending the broken world.

Meditation: ‘The Unbroken’ by Rashini Réa

Thanks Julia. We’re moving into a time of meditation. To take us into a time of silence, I’m going to share words by Rashini Réa – for you to ponder inwardly. Then we’ll hold three minutes of silence which will end with the sound of a bell. Then we’ll hear some music for our continued reflection. Let’s do what we need to do to get comfortable – maybe adjust your position – put your feet flat on the floor to ground yourself – as we always say, the words are an offering, use this time to meditate in your own way.

‘The Unbroken’ by Rashini Réa

There is a brokenness

out of which comes the unbroken,

a shatteredness

out of which blooms the unshatterable.

There is a sorrow

beyond all grief which leads to joy

and a fragility

out of whose depths emerges strength.

There is a hollow space

too vast for words

through which we pass with each loss,

out of whose darkness

we are sanctioned into being.

There is a cry deeper than all sound

whose serrated edges cut the heart

as we break open to the place inside

which is unbreakable and whole,

while learning to sing.

Period of Silence and Stillness (~3 minutes) – end with a bell

Interlude: Hallelujah – Leonard Cohen (performed by Kiana Umali Garvey and Andrew Robinson)

Address: ‘Living with Brokenness and Mending what can be Mended’ by Rev. Sheena Gabriel

I’ve been reflecting a lot on brokenness recently. On a personal level, I’ve felt broken this past year, dealing with my mother’s death from cancer. As many of you will know, grief cracks us open and brings to light the rawness of other wounds too. I’m surrounded by family members, friends, colleagues, and some I minister to, who are also struggling with brokenness, in one way or another. This isn’t surprising, because to be human, is to be vulnerable. Brokenness shows up in many ways: Our bodies breakdown through disease, accident, disability and ageing… our minds fracture through stress and mental illness… our relationships break down… spirits can shatter through loss of meaning and purpose.

On a collective level, covid shattered many assumptions and some are still dealing with the fallout… conflicts rumble on in Ukraine and Gaza (to name just two places) … the growing impact of the climate crisis looms… our social and political systems seem broken – so many cracks exposing inequalities and injustices. All this brokenness can feel overwhelming; so much needs fixing – where do we start? … Well, to state the obvious – we need to accept that not everything can be fixed, at least not by any one individual or group, in any one lifetime or generation. And it’s as well to start with ourselves, because only as we find a measure of healing or acceptance, can we find the capacity to attend to the world’s wounds.

Sometimes, rather than trying to paper over the cracks, things need to break. Breakdowns can sometimes be break-outs or break-throughs – wakeup calls, catapulting us out of unhealthy relationships, habits, or situations. I’ve found this to be true in my own life, however painful. In the natural world, transformation comes from breaking; the chick must crack open the shell to mature, the butterfly discard its cocoon to take to the skies, the seed lose its husk to germinate. So too in our lives. In those well-known words of Kahlil Gibran: “Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.”

In meteorology, the term ‘broken’ refers to the sky “being more than half, but not totally, covered by clouds.” Paula Gribble writes: “Have you ever been outside on a cloudy day and then light shines through the clouds? And it’s particularly beautiful because it’s coming through all the clouds around it? Sunny days are great, but there’s something special about the light coming through the clouds on a broken day…something graceful… My broken is what makes me who I am today. And you would not be the person you are without your brokenness. Your special, beautiful, graceful light couldn’t shine through without the clouds surrounding you. Beautiful creations born out of brokenness.”

Nature also teaches us that some things can be mended with time and patience. Have you ever brushed past and broken a spider web? Spiders are master menders – like fishermen at their nets. If there are holes, they repair them. If the whole web is destroyed, they rebuild from scratch. Some species replace their entire web every day. We can learn from the tenacity of the spider – who repairs and reweaves, again and again, day in day out. Learning from nature – we open to new potential born from our breaking, and we find the resilience to mend what we can.

But what about brokenness which doesn’t lead to new life, and can’t be fixed? Right now, a close friend of mine is living with Motor neurone disease. In the past year his life has been shattered – along with his wife’s – as she supports him towards the inevitable end of his life on earth. As a friend I feel helpless. I can’t fix this – no-one can… and yet… and yet… I stand in awe of the way these 2 brave souls are somehow transcending the awfulness of the situation. It’s almost as if my friend’s personality and spirit have broken out to reveal courage, humour, insight, and imagination, not seen before. There’s a brokenness which can’t be mended, and yet even as they approach death, a person can radiate an inner light that suggests so much more than brokenness. During our meditation I shared a favourite poem of mine, by Rashini – which seems to describe this:

There is a brokenness out of which comes the unbroken,

a shatteredness out of which blooms the unshatterable.

There is a sorrow beyond all grief which leads to joy

and a fragility out of whose depths emerges strength.

Sometimes we break and like Humpty Dumpty, all the kings’ horse and all the kings’ men can’t put us back together again – at least not back to how we were. But that needn’t be the whole of the story…. I expect you’ve heard of the Japanese art of Kintsugi, where broken bowls are painstakingly repaired – the cracks made visible with gold lacquer – more beautiful than before. I have 2 ‘kintsugi’ vessels which are special to me (though not filled with real gold!) A candle holder given me by the mother of a dear friend and minister colleague – Jane Barraclough – after her death. Clumsily, I broke it. My husband Rob glued it back together, and I painted the cracks. When I light a candle, the cracks glow with golden light.

More recently at Hucklow summer school, I had the pleasure of facilitating an engagement group which explored how to live authentically within our limitations. On the last day we explored the metaphor of cracked vessels. In a beautiful bit of synchronicity, someone in our group had donated a tiny jar to the ‘silent auction’. It had belonged to her mother, was accidentally broken by her daughter, and painstakingly glued back together with ‘gold’. I put in a bid, but gave up when I was outbid by others. On the last day as I talked about kintsugi, my co-facilitator Lizzie Kingston Harrison, held up the little jar and said, “Sheena, I was the highest bidder – and this is for you”. A beautiful gift which I will treasure – reminding me every day of beauty in brokenness. And this is the work we can do in spiritual community; affirm each other’s worth, and apply the gold of friendship to our broken edges. We each bring unique gifts and even the most cracked of us, are vessels for the divine light to shine through.

As we accept our own brokenness, we are better resourced to tend our broken world. And here we can learn from another ancient craft – that of stone walling. Mending, one stone at a time – as suggested in our reading. As we’re increasingly realising, we can’t leave it to the politicians and world leaders to fix our world! Rebuilding what is broken, will happen with individuals and small groups in different places, each contributing their ‘stones’. Whether it’s supporting refugees or the homeless, or creating inclusive spaces for LGBTQ+ folk, or responding to the climate crisis… whether it’s nurturing the next generation, offering a listening ear, or the gift of hospitality….whether it’s creating beauty through art, words, or music….

As Kathleen McTigue says, “there’s a place… where our gifts—the shape of our minds and talents, the angles of our interest and concern – fit the needs of the world, the way my neighbour’s stones anchor themselves in the lengthening all.”

In Jewish tradition the ancient concept of ‘Tikkun Olam’, translates as repairing the earth. It involves human beings taking responsibility, rather than relying on divine intervention. (Oh, if only the Israeli government right now could take this to heart, instead of waging war!) If we don’t find a way to slow global warming, share the earth’s resources, and stop fighting, we can’t look to the heavens to save us. But however insignificant we feel, each of us is a tiny, yet necessary part of the whole. And whilst we can’t expect a Santa-Claus God ‘up there’ to fix it, I do believe there is a force of Love that abides in all things – which we can channel in our shared endeavour.

We start where we are, with what we have, attending to what’s in front of us. In a story attributed to Gabriel Garcia Marquez, a man is trying to solve the world’s problems. His young son wants to help. The weary man appreciates the gesture, but finds his son’s presence a hindrance. The boy persists, so the man takes a map of the world, rips it into small pieces, and says, “You can help by piecing the world back together”. The boy protests, “But dad, I don’t know what the world looks like!” His father insists, “this is how you can help”. Thinking it’ll keep his son occupied for some time, the man returns to his reflections. Later his son bounds in, “Dad! I’ve put the world back together!” Sure enough, all the torn pieces are taped into a beautiful whole. His father is stunned, “How did you do this?” The boy turns the map over, saying, “On the back was a picture of a person. I put them back together, then I turned it over & the world was back together!”

Mark Nepo writes: “This simple story carries the profound wisdom that… each of our unfathomable journeys is a torn piece in the living puzzle that is the world. That each time we take the exquisite risk toward being whole… we put the world back together. The truth is that each of our struggles matters, and we need each other to turn the story of our lives over to see how they so beautifully go together. Isn’t all our work about the picture of the person and the picture of the world and how the thousand torn pieces wait to be joined?” (from ‘The Exquisite Risk: Daring to Live An Authentic Life’ )

I like this idea – that as we work on ourselves, so, bit by bit, our torn and shattered world is repaired – not to pristine perfection, as the singer song-writer Leonard Cohen reminds us, “There is no perfection – this is a broken world – we live with broken hearts and broken lives” … but “still that is no alibi for anything…. you have to stand up and say hallelujah under these circumstances” ….“Ring the bells that still can ring, forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything – that’s how the light gets in”.

So may it be, Amen

Hymn: 198 (purple): ‘We’ll Build a Land’

Many thanks Sheena. Time for our last hymn now, it’s number 198 in the purple book, ‘We’ll Build a Land’ – an old favourite to finish with – so let’s sing up and enjoy it. Hymn 198.

We’ll build a land where we bind up the broken.

We’ll build a land where the captives go free,

where the oil of gladness dissolves all mourning.

O, we’ll build a promised land that can be.

Come build a land where sisters and brothers,

anointed by God, may then create peace:

where justice shall roll down like waters,

and peace like an ever flowing stream.

We’ll build a land where we bring the good tidings

to all the afflicted and all those who mourn.

And we’ll give them garlands instead of ashes.

O, we’ll build a land where peace is born.

Come build a land where sisters and brothers,

anointed by God, may then create peace:

where justice shall roll down like waters,

and peace like an ever flowing stream.

We’ll be a land building up ancient cities,

raising up devastations of old;

restoring ruins of generations.

O, we’ll build a land of people so bold.

Come build a land where sisters and brothers,

anointed by God, may then create peace:

where justice shall roll down like waters,

and peace like an ever flowing stream.

Come, build a land where the mantles of praises

resound from spirits once faint and once weak;

where like oaks of righteousness stand her people.

O, come build the land, my people we seek.

Come build a land where sisters and brothers,

anointed by God, may then create peace:

where justice shall roll down like waters,

and peace like an ever flowing stream.

Announcements: 

Thanks again to Sheena for her thoughtful reflection. Thanks to Julia for reading. Thanks to Sydney, Andrew, and Benjie for lovely music. Thanks to Jeannene for tech-hosting. Thanks to Charlotte for co-hosting. If you’re joining on Zoom please do hang on after the service for a chat. Thanks to Julia for greeting and Liz for making coffee. For those of you who are here in-person – please do stay for a cuppa – that’ll be served in the hall next door.

We’ve got various in-person activities coming up – this Wednesday it’s the Poetry Group with Brian – let him know if you’re planning to come along. The following Wednesday our Community Singing group continues and that’s always a lot of fun.

We’ve got an online ‘Heart & Soul’ Contemplative Spiritual Gathering on Friday at 7pm and our theme this week is ‘Simplicity’. We gather for sharing and prayer and it is a great way to get to know others on a deeper level. Sign up with Rita if you want to go along to that.

The next meeting of the ‘Better World Book Club’ will be on ‘Africa is Not a Country’ by Dipo Faloyin. We’ve got a few library copies if you’d like to borrow one. Let Jane know if you want to join that session on Sunday 27th October.

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. Please do sign up for the mailing list if you haven’t already. 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.

I think that’s everything. Just time for our closing words and closing music now.

Benediction: with words by Rev Dr Rebecca Parker

Even when our hearts are broken by our own failure

or the failure of others cutting into our lives,

even when we have done all we can

and life is still broken,

there is a Universal Love

that has never broken faith with us

and never will.

We have gathered in community.

We have drunk from the common cup of heritage and faith.

Now let us go out as witnesses to Divine love and human fellowship,

To serve our fractured, imperfect – yet beautiful world.

May it be so, Amen

Closing Music: Salut d’amour by Edward Elgar (performed by Kiana Umali Garvey and Andrew Robinson)

Rev. Sheena Gabriel

29th September 2024