Unitarian Society of New Haven
December 30, 2018
Rich Stockton and members of the Worship Committee
Call to Worship
“Suspended” by Linda Barnes
Suspended between all that was and all that might be,
we struggle to find this very moment—to live this very moment.
Let us sit together for a moment, and savor this moment.
Let us relish this between time where past meets future,
Let us harbor a faith that reminds us that right now, right here, is enough.
Meditation
Into Greater Union with the Mysterious
Rev. Joan Javier-Duval
Spirit of Life
Mother of All
Mystery Beyond Our Understanding
Here we are
living breathing creatures
with minds that wonder
and hearts that feel awe
we face questions that we know can’t be answered
and tragedies that we know can’t be explained
May we find patience
in all that is unanswered
and peace in all that
will never be explained
May the living breathing creatures that we are
feel the breath of life
moving in us
and through all things
bringing us into greater union
with the mysterious universe of which we are a part
Reading 1 from “Unexpected Gifts” a sermon by Kathleen McTigue
In yesterday’s Hartford Courant the front page of the business section had a story that began with an inch-long headline, “Will Late Buyers Save Shopping Season?”. . . . . .Can consumers save Christmas again?”
Can consumers save Christmas again? The really weird thing about that question is that it was written in the article without the faintest whiff of irony. Of course it was the business section, and everyone’s worried about the economy, and the retail sector sinks or swims according to how much we buy. But what about those of us who genuinely love Christmas? What about those who struggle to translate its meaning for our kids and hold to some family traditions and honor the religious meanings that can be found there?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Back to the headline– Can consumers save Christmas? Of course not. But a little attention can save Christmas. The willingness to live more open to surprise can save Christmas. The willingness to open our eyes to the mystery within the ordinary and allow something small and unexpected to fling open our greedy hearts — that can save Christmas.
The heart of the Christmas story, and what I love best is the part that’s repeated thousands of times a day in our beloved, ordinary world. A child is born into unpromising circumstances. Despite all the odds against it, he is loved and nurtured and grows into a unique mind and heart, with eyes open to receive the world. He finds the words, and is brave enough to live the life, that open countless other eyes and hearts to possibilities they did not see before. It’s that bright mystery, that open possibility for surprise within this human life of ours, that turns out to be so holy. It’s that miracle that’s worth a special star in the sky, a host of angels singing hallelujahs, a journey of homage from any group of wise men or women. Christmas can be saved — not by how much we spend but by how much we see, and how willing we are to have our visions transform us, every ordinary and miraculous day of our lives. AMEN.
Reading 2 “Choose Something Like a Star” by Robert Frost
O Star (the fairest one in sight),
We grant your loftiness the right
To some obscurity of cloud—
It will not do to say of night,
Since dark is what brings out your light.
Some mystery becomes the proud.
But to be wholly taciturn
In your reserve is not allowed.
Say something to us we can learn
By heart and when alone repeat.
Say something! And it says, “I burn.”
But say with what degree of heat.
Talk Fahrenheit, talk Centigrade.
Use language we can comprehend.
Tell us what elements you blend.
It gives us strangely little aid,
But does tell something in the end.
And steadfast as Keats’ Eremite,
Not even stooping from its sphere,
It asks a little of us here.
It asks of us a certain height,
So when at times the mob is swayed
To carry praise or blame too far,
We may choose something like a star
To stay our minds on and be staid.
Reading 3 “We grow accustomed to the dark” by Emily Dickinson
“Embrace The Night” by Jennifer Leota Gray
We Grow Accustomed To The Dark, by Emily Dickinson
We grow accustomed to the Dark –
When Light is put away –
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Good bye –
A Moment – We Uncertain step
For newness of the night –
Then – fit our Vision to the Dark –
And meet the Road – erect –
And so of larger – Darknesses –
Those Evenings of the Brain –
When not a Moon disclose a sign –
Or Star – come out – within –
The Bravest – grope a little –
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly in the Forehead –
But as they learn to see –
Either the Darkness alters –
Or something in the sight
Adjusts itself to Midnight –
And Life steps almost straight.
Embrace The Night
Jennifer Leota Gray
Universal mystery,
Guide us away from the desire to
Shine light in all the corners.
Teach us to embrace the night,
For without the darkness,
We never see the stars.
Reading 4 Come Winter compiled by Carol Stockton
What do you do during winter? I used to complain throughout the entire season..it was too slippery, too dark, too cold and barren, too long…
Over the years, my attitude has shifted away from resenting those things that can’t be changed to embracing them…after all, in winter, there is hot chocolate, reading and warm quilts.
Unquestionably, though, the most guilty pleasure I allow myself is time to surf the net for thought-provoking or amusing content. And being a UU, I’m permitted the indulgence of sharing some of my finds with all of you!
The first is called The Four Smart Students
One night four college students were out partying late and didn’t study for a test scheduled for the next day. In the morning, they thought of a plan.
They smeared themselves with grease and dirt and went to the Dean saying that when returning from a wedding the previous night, a tire had burst and they had had to push the car all the way back. So they were in no condition to take the test.
The Dean thought for a minute and agreed to allow them to take the test in 3 days.
On the third day, they appeared before the Dean who said that, since this was a rescheduled test, all four were required to sit in separate classrooms to take it. The students were delighted to have had extra time to prepare.
The Test consisted of only 2 questions worth a total of 100 Points:
1) Your Name? (worth 1 Point)
2) Which tire burst? (worth 99 Points)
This one is entitled The Struggles of Our Life
Once upon a time a daughter complained to her father that her life was miserable and that she was tired of fighting and struggling all the time.
Her father, a chef, took her to the kitchen. He filled three pots with water and placed potatoes in one, eggs in the second and ground coffee beans in the third. He sat silently and let them boil.
The daughter, moaned and impatiently waited, wondering what he was doing. After twenty minutes he turned off the burners, took the potatoes out of the pot and placed them in a bowl, placed the eggs in another, and ladled the coffee out into a cup…then, he asked. “Daughter, what do you see?”
“Potatoes, eggs and coffee,” she hastily replied.
“Look closer” he said, “touch the potatoes.” She did and noted they were soft.
He then asked her to break an egg. She pulled off the shell and observed the hard-boiled egg.
Finally, he asked her to sip the coffee. Its rich aroma brought a smile to her face.
“Father, what does this mean?” she asked.
He explained that each thing had faced the same conditions, but each reacted differently. The potato went in strong and hard, but when boiled, became soft and weak.
The egg had a thin outer shell protecting its liquid contents until boiled. Then the inside of the egg became hard.
However, the ground coffee beans were unique. After they were boiled, they created something new out of the water.
“Which one are you?” he asked his daughter.
“When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a potato, an egg, or a coffee bean?”
Reading 5 “Inexplicable” by Rev. Karen G. Johnston
Inexplicable.
How we rise each morning,
instead of burying our heads
under bedcovers,
sewing them shut.
Why we keep on
welcoming babies
with bone-deep joy
to this sordid world.
How we fill burlap sacks
with grit and gratitude,
our hands shredded
as we drag one over the other.
How we refuse the daily pull
towards greedy dark,
keeping at least one toe,
some of us whole torso,
in the light.
Inexplicable.
It’s what makes a poem
worth writing, worth reading,
worth flooding the world
with redundant, flawed attempts
at explanation.
It’s just the way it is.
There is no other way.
Stumbling every time,
practice or no.
Just part of the bargain…
the unavoidable,
intractable,
inexplicable, bargain.
Benediction “Fragments of Holiness” by Rev. Sara York
We receive fragments of holiness, glimpses of eternity, brief moments of insight. Let us gather them up for the precious gifts that they are and, renewed by their grace, move boldly into the unknown. May it be so. Amen.