Unitarian Sunday Reflections

(Hull and Lincoln Unitarians)

14 November 2021

Theme

“Ways of Remembering”

Remembrance Sunday 2021

PRELUDE

WORDS OF WELCOME

OPENING QUOTE

“When we think of the past it’s the beautiful things we pick out. We want to believe it was all like that.”                                                                                                                    

~ Margaret Atwood

CHALICE LIGHTING/INVOCATION

words by John Carter

We light our chalice, this candle,

          as a sign of our connectedness, our community, and of our journey on this spiritual quest called life….

We take a moment to reflect on our life and living of this week… as we reflect…. explore and ask of yourself….

          What was good? Healthy?

          What was not good? Unhealthy?

          What moments, events, conversations, time alone

          that allowed me to connect to another, to life,

                               to that which may be called Divine.

          How do you react to Remembrance Day? What is it’s importance for you?

As we end these reflections, as we move to worship, may we continue to reflect on the things that make life whole and how we may grow ourselves into them.

May the Great Spirit of the Journey walk with us today.

Amen.

HYMN:

SYF 42 (CD SYF 2/TRACK 1)

“from the light of days remembered”

by Jason Shelton & Mary Katherine Morn

From the light of days remembered burns a beacon bright and clear,

guiding hands and hearts and spirits into faith set free from fear.

          When the fire of commitment sets our mind and soul ablaze;

          when our hunger and our passion meet to call us on our way;

          when we live with deep assurance of the flame that burns within,

          then our promise finds fulfilment and our future can begin. 

From the stories of our living rings a song both brave and free,

calling pilgrims still to witness to the life of liberty.

          When the fire of commitment sets our mind and soul ablaze;

          when our hunger and our passion meet to call us on our way;

          when we live with deep assurance of the flame that burns within,

          then our promise finds fulfilment and our future can begin.  

From the dreams of youthful vision comes a new, prophetic voice,

which demands a deeper justice built by our courageous choice.

          When the fire of commitment sets our mind and soul ablaze;

          when our hunger and our passion meet to call us on our way;

          when we live with deep assurance of the flame that burns within,

          then our promise finds fulfilment and our future can begin. 

READINGS:

The Young Dead Soldiers

by Archibald MacLeish

The young dead soldiers do not speak.

          Nevertheless , they are heard in the still houses:

                               who has not heard them?

They have a silence that speaks for them at night and when the clock counts.

          They say: We were young. We have died. Remember us.

They say: We have done what we could but until it is finished it is not done.

          They say: We have given our lives but until it is finished

                                         no one can know what our lives gave.

They say: Our deaths are not our; they are yours; they will mean what you make them.

          They say: Whether our lives and our deaths were for peace and a new hope

                               or for nothing we cannot say; it is you who must say this.

They say: We leave you our deaths. Give them meaning.

          We were young, they say. We have died. Remember us.

Do not stand at my grave and weep

Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do not stand at my grave and weep

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there. I did not die.

HYMN HFL 222

“Hush the Sounds of War”  

words by William Gaskell

O God! The darkness roll away

Which clouds the human soul,

And let thy bright and holy day

Speed onward to its goal!

Let every hateful passion die

Which makes of neighbours foes,

And war no longer raise its cry

To mar the world’s repose.

How long shall glory still be found

In scenes of cruel strife,

Where misery walks, a giant crowned,

Crushing the flowers of life?

O hush, great God, the sounds of war,

And make thy children feel

That one, with thee, is nobler far

Who toils for human weal.

Let faith, and hope, and charity

Go forth through all the earth;

And we in holy friendship be

True to our heavenly birth.

Three Poems

by William Stafford,

from his collection of poems Another World Instead

“A note on solemn war…” 17 August 1945

by William Stafford,

from his collection of poems Another World Instead

A note on solemn war:

          the charnel stench of all metals

          the tide of tears through every marching song

          the black scream blotted over the heads of orators

          behind the scenes, the sound of creaking, higher into hysteria

          the cold implacable murder in national anthems

          the strait-jacket badge of cruel insanity in uniforms

          the ferreting out and rewarding of childish aggression, bullying, vainglory,                                relentless hate

A note on solemn war:

          the charnel stench of all metals.

“On Attending a Militaristic Church Service” 8 September 1945

by William Stafford,

from his collection of poems Another World Instead

And there I sat on my swami

holding my nose in the pews,

under the nozzle of preaching

to be washed in the blood of the news.

“Nine Years Old” 24 September 1945

by William Stafford,

from his collection of poems Another World Instead

Violence lowered its lids of silence;

with priority, hate was sedate —

          it brought worth,

          respect,

          and in all the rooms first place:

And Right was in the powerful arms of the

          grownup human race.

Mr. Before the name meant something might happen.

And Miss meant something never had.

And Mrs. meant something always did.

And all of our land was permanently occupied

          by an army of grownup Pattons;

and the defeated were the seen and not heard —

          the well-behaved little kids.

HYMN

HFL 233 (CD HFL 4/TRACK 20)

“Others Call it God”

words by William Herbert Carruth

A fire-mist and a planet,

A crystal and a cell,

A star-fish and a saurian,

And caves where cave-folk dwell:

The sense of law and beauty,

A face turned from the clod —

Some call it evolution,

And others call it God.

Haze on the far horizon,

The infinite tender sky,

The ripe, rich tints of cornfields,

And wild geese sailing high;

And over high and lowland,

The charm of golden rod —

Some people call it nature,

And others call it God.

Like tides on a crescent sea-beach,

When the moon is new and thin,

Into our hearts high yearnings

Come welling, surging in,

Come from the mystic ocean

Whose rim no foot has trod—

Some people call it longing,

And others call it God.

A picket frozen on duty,

A mother starved for her brood,

And Socrates drinking hemlock,

And Jesus on the rood;

And millions, who, though nameless,

The straight, hard pathway trod —

Some call it consecration,

And others call it God.

“Seasons of Love”

words by Jonathan D Larson

“Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets

In midnights, in cups of coffee

In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife

In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

How do you measure, a year in the life?

How about love?

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

Five hundred twenty-five thousand journeys to plan

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

How do you measure the life of a woman or a man?

In truths that she learned

Or in times that he cried

In bridges he burned

Or the way that she died

It’s time now, to sing out

Though the story never ends

Let’s celebrate

Remember a year in the life of a friend”

Meditations Before Kaddish

From the Mishkan T’filah

When I die give what’s left of me away

to children and old men that wait to die.

And if you need to cry,

cry for your brother walking the street beside you.

And when you need me, put your arms around anyone

and give them what you need to give me.

I want to leave you something,

something better than words or sounds.

Look for me in the people I’ve known or loved,

and if you cannot give me away,

at least let me live in your eyes and not your mind.

You can love me best by letting hands touch hands,

and by letting go of children that need to be free.

Love doesn’t die, people do.

So, when all that’s left of me is love,

give me away.

They Are With Us Still

by Kathleen McTigue

In the struggles we choose for ourselves,

In the ways we move forward in our lives and our world forward with us,

          It is right to remember the names of those

          who gave us strength in this choice of living.

          It is right to name the power of hard lives well-lived.

We share a history with those lives.

We belong to the same motion.

          They too were strengthened by what had gone before.

          They too were drawn on by the vision of what might come to be.

Those who lived before us, who struggled for justice and suffered injustice before us,

have not melted into the dust, and have not disappeared.

          They are with us still.

          The lives they lived hold us steady.

Their words remind us and call us back to ourselves.

Their courage and love evoke our own.

We, the living, carry them with us: we are their voices, their hands and their hearts.

          We take them with us, and with them choose the deeper path of living.

SPECIAL MUSIC: “Abide with me”  sung by Chris Carr

REFLECTIVE MEDITATION & PRAYER

We take a moment to reflect…

Has my understanding of remembrance changed?

What is important to me at this time of year?

Can I honour the dedication without buying into the nationalism?

How and who do I remember on this day?

Silence…..

In Remembrance: A Prayer

by Martha Pearman Sharp

As I walk

through the mauve delight of sunrise

you’re there:

together we see

the profound ness of nature —

in soaring herons

and songful birds.

It’s as if you never left

at these moments.

But streaming tears

and the desolate return home

belie that time of love —

lost forever in a mystic dream.

Please, God, help me

through these aimless years.

Let there be another sunrise.

(Silence)

Amen.

NOTICES & THANKS

HYMN

SYF 88 (CD SYF 1/TRACK 14)

“Let it be a dance we do”

by Ric Masten

          Let it be a dance we do, May I have this dance with you?

          Through the good times and the bad times, too,

          Let it be a dance.

Let a dancing song be heard. Play the music, say the words,

and fill the sky with sailing birds. Let it be a dance.

Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance. —

Learn to follow, learn to lead, feel the rhythm, fill the need

to reap the harvest, plant the seed, Let it be a dance.

          Let it be a dance we do, May I have this dance with you?

          Through the good times and the bad times, too,

          Let it be a dance.

Everybody turn and spin, let your body learn to bend,

and like a willow in the wind, Let it be a dance.

Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance. —

A child is born, the old must die, a time for you,

a time to cry, take it as it passes by. Let it be a dance.

          Let it be a dance we do, May I have this dance with you?

          Through the good times and the bad times, too,

          Let it be a dance.

Morning star comes out at night, without the dark there is no light,

if nothing’s wrong then nothing’s right, Let it be a dance.

Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance. —

Let the sunshine, let is rain, share the laughter, bear the pain,

and round and round we go again. Let it be a dance

BLESSING

May our days be filled with saintly and not so saintly purpose,

may we embrace that which makes us different and that which connects us all.

In our desperate world

Being guided by the Good

Sustained by love

Empowered to live

May we live our life

As instruments for compassion, joy, peace, justice, spiritual wholeness for the whole of creation…..

Amen