Through the Triumphs and Disasters: Real Living

Sunday Service, 22 September 2024

Led by Rev. Michael Allured

Musical Prelude: Mists from The Victorian Kitchen Garden – Paul Reade (performed by Benjie del Rosario and Maria Levandovskaya)

Opening Words: ‘Because We Are Finite’ by David Usher

Because we are finite, we lift up our eyes

to the infinite sky, and feel wonder and awe.

Because we have stumbled, we take the tender hand

which beckons us to rise, and feel strength and reassurance.

Because we are lonely, we reach out to those around us,

and feel warmth and acceptance.

Because we are human, we do all of these things,

and in our worship, feel the presence of the divine.

Words of Welcome and Introduction:

These opening words by David Usher 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 Michael Allured, and I’m minister with Golders Green Unitarians.

The focus of this morning’s service is ‘Through the triumphs and disasters: real living. In our strength and fragility we are gathered with our joys and our woes, each with our gifts and our failings aspiring to feed our best selves even and perhaps especially when life gives us lemons.

Chalice Lighting: ‘A Symbol of the Spark of Life’ by Linda Hart

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 as a symbol of the spark of life

which abides within us and around us.

May it be as a light in a dark night,

a light in a window that welcomes the weary traveller home.

May it be as a light in the hand of a trusted friend,

that guides us along the path.

May it be as the light in the face of one we love, bright with joy.

Hymn 244 (Green): ‘Glad That I Live Am I’

Let’s sing together. Our first hymn is 244 in your green books: ‘Glad That I Live Am I’. It’s not one that you sing often at Essex Church so I’ll ask Maria to play it through before you sing. For those joining via zoom the words will be up on screen. Feel free to stand or sit as you prefer and let’s sing up as best we can. Hymn 244.

Glad that I live am I; that the sky is blue;

Glad for the country lanes, and the fall of dew.

After the sun, the rain; after the rain, the sun;

This is the way of life, Till the work be done.

All that we need to do, be we low or high,

Is to see that we grow nearer the sky.

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 as we want people to be able to hear you. If you can’t get to the microphone give me a wave and I’ll bring a handheld mic to 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 Tony McNeile

Let’s take those joys and concerns into an extended time of prayer. This prayer is based on some words by Tony McNeile. 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 prayer we look back and survey the pattern of our unfolding lives.

There have been triumphs, sometimes disasters

and often periods of quietness and inertia.

We have gained and possibly lost.

We have promised and fulfilled, promised and not fulfilled.

We have known moments of joy and moments of sadness.

Let us retain the precious memories and then resolve to move forward.

In the days to come may we be bold and adventurous in our thinking.

May we look forward with enthusiasm, feel strengthened

by the experiences of the past. Make plans.

Feel the courage in your heart that faith brings.

Let us bless our families and our friends.

Let us bless this community we belong to.

May we each be a beacon of peace and love that gives hope to all.

(short pause)

And if you are holding someone in your heart this morning,

I invite you to say their names aloud in the coming moments of stillness,

and if you’re online please type your names into the chat box on Zoom.

In our naming people in our hearts may we hold them

in our thoughts and our prayers this morning.

(pause for names)

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 235 (green): ‘A Melody of Love’

Our next hymn is number 235 in your green books, ‘A Melody of Love’. Again it’s not one you sing that often here at Essex Church, so I’ll ask Maria to play a verse before we sing.

God speaks to us in bird and song,

In winds that drift the clouds along,

Above the din of toil and wrong,

A melody of love.

God speaks to us in far and near,

In peace of home and friends most dear,

From the dim past and present clear,

A melody of love.

God speaks to us in darkest night,

By quiet ways through mornings bright,

When shadows fall with evening light,

A melody of love.

God speaks to us in every land,

On wave-lapped shore and silent strand,

By kiss of child and touch of hand,

A melody of love.

O voice divine, speak thou to me,

Beyond the earth, beyond the sea;

First let me hear, then sing to thee

A melody of love.

In-Person Reading: ‘Pale Blue Dot’ by Carl Sagan (read by John Humphreys)

This reading has become known as The Pale Blue Dot. It’s taken from writings by the famous astronomer Carl Sagan and he’s referring to a particular photo, taken of our planet earth home back in 1990 by NASA’s Voyager 1 spacecraft.

“Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there-on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot.

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

The Earth is the only world known so far to harbour life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.

It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.”

Meditation: ‘If’ by Rudyard Kipling (adapted)

Thanks John. We’re moving into a time of meditation. To take us into a time of silence, I’m going to share the poem ‘If’ by Rudyard Kipling with a slight adaptation 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.

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all … doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too:

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;

If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same.

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings,

And never breathe a word about your loss:

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much:

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And—which is more—you’ll be a [a wise one]!

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

Interlude: Adagio – Remo Giazotto-Tommaso Albinoni (performed by Benjie del Rosario and Maria Levandovskaya)

In-Person Reading: from ‘Loving Olivia’ by Liz Astor (read by Liz)

Liz Astor, the mother of two daughters, one with autism and the other with ADHD, wrote a book on the story of her struggle to help her daughters and to help other parents. Her words are a mediation on disaster, triumph, hope.

In 1997 my youngest daughter Olivia, who was then aged for and a half, was diagnosed with moderate/severe autism, dyspraxia and moderate learning disability. Nine years later, I can hardly remember the time when my life was not immersed in the complex and fascinating world of autism.

My story is, in many ways, similar to the millions of parents and siblings who find themselves with a disabled child, brother or sister. When Olivia was born, I knew absolutely nothing about autism and very little about the world of disability [and] ADHD.

What I hoped to achieve when I set out to write my story was primarily to hand a road map of disability to parents. I wanted to share my hopes and dreams, triumphs and failures, joy and despair so that others would know that they are not on their own, as so often I felt deeply alone and isolated not knowing where to turn or how to access help and advice. …above all I wanted to give my reader comfort, courage and hope. We all put on a brave face to the world ….Too brave a face can sometimes make others wonder if one is superwoman, who can cope so well that they are feeling even more depressed and inadequate. Whatever our backgrounds and abilities we all love, suffer and laugh.

And now, nine years after her diagnosis, I can say with complete honesty that I would not have a different Olivia. She has changed my life entirely and through both my daughters it has been greatly enriched. Without Olivia’s autism and Natalya’s ADHD I would never have climbed the highest mountain in Africa, run the London Marathon, or walked across the semi arid desert of Inner Mongolia. I would not have started a programme of exercise that became an intrinsic part of my daily life, met hundreds of truly remarkable people and been inspired daily by what other people achieve. It has filled me with desire to live life as fully as possible. I hope that Loving Olivia will inspire others to climb mountains, fundraise for their special charity and most of all, to celebrate our differences.

Address: ‘Through Triumph and Disaster: Real Living’ by Rev. Michael Allured

Joy and woe are woven fine

Clothing for the soul divine

Under every grief and pine

Runs a joy with silken twine.

If you’ve been following the Olympics you will have encountered stories of triumph and disaster in the lives of those who share this Earth with us. On one of the days I felt joy at stories of Tom Daley and Noah Williams winning silver medals for their Olympic diving prowess. And on the same day I felt revulsion and horror at the murder of three children in a senseless knife attack and the devastation it has brought to parents, siblings, friends, professionals, whole communities. The riots that followed fuelled by ignorance and pain and feeling powerless made me wonder about the progress of our species.

Sometimes it feels that even the very foundations in our lives are built on sand. In Wales, communities and individuals once proud of ‘one of their own’ rising to the top of his game in broadcasting have had their feelings of safety and certainty pulled from under them. His achievements have turned to dust and the artist who painted his image on a celebratory mural has now painted over it.

Life is precious: strong and robust and yet tender and fragile. All the things we find ourselves taking for granted – that when we go out in the morning we shall return to the house in the evening: those certainties we relied on because they are simply the furniture that’s just part of the fabric of our lives suddenly are cast to the four winds.

And we are find ourselves having to salvage what we can and mend the lives that have been cracked, perhaps broken it may feel, as if beyond repair.

We are here on this Earth: each one of us. We are born. We die. We know the biology of that. And then there’s the time in between that it’s our choice to shape and craft as best we can: this life that we have to live and use. There are mystery and lots of questions and there are circumstances and events. All of the Biblical stories in the Old and New Testaments are about unfolding events and how human beings responded to them, played their parts for good or evil. There are stories of triumph and disaster and struggle: triumph, disaster and struggle for the world, for continents, nations, communities, individuals. The story of the Rabbi Jesus is the ultimate account of disaster and triumph.

How can we respond to these circumstances that weave fine our joy and woe if we are to survive, as individuals, as communities, as inhabitants of this tiny planet Earth? How can we try to survive in the Autumn of 2024 amidst the noise, the misinformation, the hatred stirred up by setting one against the other? When a Nike advert asks throughout ‘Am I a bad person’ because I want to win, I have no empathy and compassion, and the implicit answer is ‘no’ where do we go? When demagogues call drag shows ‘satanic’ and riots fuelled by hatred of others just because of their colour and religion become in irrational minds the identified problem how do we respond?

We keep showing up and offering our message of hope and love manifest in word and deed to each other and beyond our green doors. We invite the stranger in knowing there will be triumphs and disasters in the process and we embrace and welcome the risk. We embrace the risk because it’s necessary: there’s nothing else we can do if we really want to live by the values of the Unitarian faith we profess: justice, equity, compassion in human relations, a free and responsible search for truth and meaning, democratic community, world community, the interdependent web.

Meanwhile, as we aspire to these values, we have our triumphs and disasters to contend with. And it’s in the how we do it that we have a chance of finding a way towards living, albeit in small ways, these Unitarian – I would say divine – values. Part of it is about how we deal with our triumphs and disasters on individual to global scales.

Some of the stories of athletes competing in the Paris Olympics and the Para Olympics have inspired me. Adam Peaty won the silver medal in the 100m breaststroke final. He’d already won two gold medals in previous games and all the media hype was about whether he could make history and win three golds. When he was interviewed after the race he cried: not tears of grief and loss at coming second but ‘happy tears’ because in his words he’d given it his all. For him it wasn’t about the end goal but the process. ‘It doesn’t matter what time it says on the clock. I know I’m a winner.’ So for Adam winning does not necessarily mean coming first.

Another Olympian, the rower Kelly Glover, who also just missed out on winning another gold this week could also have felt deflated by being reminded she came only second. Except Rosie Millard, interviewing her for the Radio Times writes:

She’s still remarkably diffident about her achievements. She keeps her gold medals in a sock.

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same.

Echoes here of the lessons from Kipling’s poem for all of us? Maybe.

And from Carl Sagan’s The Pale Blue Dot, one of today’s readings, which reminds us how small we humans are compared to the grand vastness of the Cosmos, encouraging us to let go of what really doesn’t matter.

As I pondered triumph and disaster I came across yet another reality check on Facebook: one post remind readers that in three generations everyone who knew you and disapproved of who you wanted to be will be dead. Our time on this planet is a gift: let’s use it to spread the rich seeds of joy, not the dry empty husks that bring disaster. That’s another take on The Blue Dot reading As Carl Segan observes ‘astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience’. Like learning to react to triumph and disaster similarly it offers us perspective.

In Loving Olivia, the book Liz Astor wrote about bringing up her autistic daughter two chapters stand out. One is called ‘Family Trips, Mishaps and Magic’. The other is ‘From the Peaks of Peru to the Thoughts of Despair: Coming to Terms with Autism. The magic of finding a way to help Olivia open Christmas presents.

Then realising and learning to live with the fact that with disabled children there are magical moments but there will be setbacks and life will never be ‘problem free’. But then is it problem free even when we don’t have Liz Astor’s challenges?

A few days ago I came across an interview on Facebook with a woman aged 103. When she was 70 her husband had asked her for a divorce after many years of marriage. Disaster she initially felt. Take a deep breath, she advised in the interview. ‘Life is amazing: awesome’.

‘Don’t get stuck’ she urged. ‘Find something to make your heart sing’, she counselled and embrace the five Ls: Life and Love: love being the satellite partner necessary for the other Ls to blossom: laughter (for happiness and joy), labour (for fulfilment without drudgery) and language (to enhance understanding).

At 103 she had worked out for herself how to navigate the world. Liz Astor shares how she has done the same. In navigating our worlds, our joys and challenges, our highs and low points we each need to find our own ways through the life, though I hope with the help of one another. And I hope too with the Unitarian values we discern, share and live. Amen.

Hymn 132 (Green): ‘Children of the Universe’

Time for our last hymn now, it’s number 132 in your green books, ‘Children of the Universe’. Dedicated to all children everywhere who are the innocent victims of violence. Once again, this is not a tune you’ll know, so I’ll ask Maria to play it through before we sing.

Children of the human race,

Offspring of our Mother Earth,

Not alone in endless space

Has our planet given birth.

Far across the cosmic skies

Countless suns in glory blaze,

And from untold planets rise

Endless canticles of praise

Should some sign of others reach

This, our lonely planet Earth,

Differences of form and speech

Must not hide our common worth.

When at length our minds are free,

And the clouds of fear disperse,

Then at last we’ll learn to be

Children of the Universe.

Announcements: (given by Patricia)

Thanks to Michael for leading our service today. Thanks to John and Liz for reading. Thanks to Benjie and Maria for lovely music. Thanks to Ramona 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 John for greeting and Pat for making coffee. For those of you who are here in-person – please stay for a cuppa – in the hall next door.

We’ve got various in-person activities coming up – this afternoon please do stay after the service for a singing lesson with Margaret – that’s free of charge and starts at 12.30pm. Then on Wednesday night at 7pm our Community Singing group continues and that’s always great fun. If you’re planning to come to that and you’re not on Jane’s contact list do let her know in case there’s any last-minute change of plan. There will be cake as usual on Wednesday night!

The ‘Better World Book Club’ is happening tonight when we’re discussing ‘Project Unlonely’. If you’re expecting to go to that and haven’t yet had a link get in touch with Jane. Next month we’re discussing ‘Africa is Not a Country’ by Dipo Faloyin. We’ll have a few library copies to pick up next Sunday if you’d like to borrow one. Let Jane know if you want to join that group on Sunday 27th October.

Sonya will be offering her Nia dance class here at the church on Friday at 12.30pm.

We’ve got an online ‘Heart & Soul’ Contemplative Spiritual Gathering on Friday at 7pm and our theme this week is ‘Slowing Down’. 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.

Next week we’ll be back at 11am when Rev. Sheena Gabriel will be leading our service on the theme of ‘Living with Brokenness, and Mending what can be Mended’.

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. I’ll hand back to Michael for our closing words now.

Benediction: based on words by Lizzie Kingston-Harrison

As we leave here today, we give thanks for the many stories of our lives,

and for all those who hold us gently while we tell them.

We leave grateful for the listeners, for those who sit quietly

and give us the gift of a version of ourselves born in a moment of tender grace.

And we leave grateful for the storytellers, who,

with courage and love give us the gift of their true selves.

May the connections with each other and the world you discover

and re-discover feed your hearts and minds and nurture your soul now and always. Amen.

Closing Music: Troubadour – Iwan Müller (performed by Benjie del Rosario and Maria Levandovskaya)

Rev. Michael Allured

22nd September 2024