Water and Stones UUP 9/11/16



Come in today, come in.

Come in peace, come in hope.

Come in sadness and in despair

Bring all that you carry

And all that you are.

Know you are welcome here.


Come in this morning,

And let your tears flow

In memory and pain.

Let the gentle waters of the spirit,

Soothe you and heal you

As you drink your fill

Of community and of hope.


The river of life flows on

With the force of all our yearnings.

The strong stones of our journeys

Build the pathways to our healing.


Come in peace, come in hope

Come in sadness and in despair

May our thirst be quenched

May we all find the strength

To meet hate with love

And carry the blessing into the world.


Amen and blessed be.


Children’s Reflection

Some of you were here a couple of weeks ago when I talked to you about John Murray and how he did not believe in hell.  Do any of you remember that?  I heard afterward that some of the younger people were a little confused about the idea of hell, and weren’t really sure what “hell” means.  I think that this congregation takes Murray’s “Give them hope not hell” pretty seriously.   That is a very good thing, but just so you know, some people, some religions, believe that people who do bad things are punished by God after they die in a place they call hell. Unitarian Universalists rarely believe in that kind of god.  I am not at all sure what, if anything, happens to us after we die, but I think it is just the same for all of us. We might become part of a larger spirit, or maybe we simply return to the earth to be reborn in another form.  Maybe a flower or a tree, maybe a squirrel or even a bug.  Who knows for sure? There is no punishment after death though, that doesn’t make any sense to me.

I think people created the idea of hell because sometimes people do really bad things that hurt other people. When someone does something bad it is easy to get angry at them and want to hurt them back.  If we can’t punish them ourselves, we want God to do it.

Today is our water and stones service, a time when we gather together as a community in preparation for the fall and the coming year.  This year it is also the 15th anniversary of a day when some people did some really bad, really terrible things.  On September 11, 2001, they flew airplanes into buildings in New York and in Washington DC and killed a lot of people.

Those of us who were alive on that day will never forget it.  Those of you who don’t remember it at all may want to talk to your parents or the people who care for you about it more later.  It was a terrible and a very sad day.  It is important, I think, to cry when bad things happen and when people are hurt.  Tears can help us heal and go on and find hope again.

The choir is going to sing a song for us now about finding hope, about opening the windows of our hearts and letting peace and love inside.

I may ask you to come up again and help me later in the service, if you’d like to do that, but for now, you can go back and sit with your families.


Reflection 2 prayer

Open the window, let the dove fly in.

A dove is, of course, a symbol of peace. We need more peace in the world and in our own lives.  It is so easy to feel despair when so many terrible things happen.  Relationships fall apart, jobs are lost, we are bullied at school, the rent goes up, and people we love can die. Then there are mostly random events like earthquakes, floods, fires, hurricanes and tornados. Humans also create suffering for ourselves and others by things we both do and do not do. Global climate change is already killing people, and it will get much worse if we don’t act more decisively to protect our planet.  What really breaks our hearts, however, is the pain and suffering that is intentional.

Today is the 15th anniversary of a planned mass murder.  It wasn’t the first, and as we know too well, it wasn’t and won’t be the last.  From slavery and the genocide of indigenous peoples, to Sandy Hook, Oklahoma City, Boston, and Orlando.  I can’t list them all, there are too many, even limiting it to the United States.  That alone is heartbreaking, and I haven’t even mentioned war, but I should.  We have to name the Holocaust as well.

The horror of what people can do to other human beings gives us so much to weep about, so much to fear.  When I feel overwhelmed by all that is going on in the world, I hear echoes of the Hebrew Prophet Jeremiah, crying out,

Is there no balm in Gilead, Is there no physician there?

So why is there no healing for my people?

His cry is our cry, aren’t we all looking for a balm to ease our suffering?  For a physician to heal our wounds and the wounds of our world?

One of my favorite theologians, Mr. Rodgers, said that when something bad is happening, to look for the helpers, because they are always there.  As Unitarian Universalists, we pride ourselves on being helpers.  In a couple of weeks, I will talk about what some of us did during the Holocaust to try and help.

When we are in trouble, if we can, we also reach out and take the hand of another person.  We just hold on, as tight as we can, feeling that human connection.


One memory of September 11th that stays with me is the images I saw of people either jumping or falling from one of the towers before it collapsed.  The images were tiny, but you could tell they were people.  Two of them were holding hands as they fell.  We don’t know who they were, how could we?  Were they coworkers, friends, strangers, or lovers?  We don’t know their religion, race, sexual orientation, immigration status, or gender identity.  We don’t know what jobs they had or how much money they were making.  None of that really matters.  They were two people who held onto each other.  It did not save their lives, but I believe it gave them strength.

I also believe that religious communities such as this one can give us each the strength we need to face whatever comes, to work as helpers to try and heal some of the hurt in the world.  Our tears are healing too as they wash over our wounds with a gentle salt caress.

Will you pray with me?

Divine Spirit,

Hold us as we weep and give us the strength and courage to do what we can to help heal this broken world. We are grateful for communities such as this one that offer comfort and meaning in confusing and even terrifying times.

We are grateful for the water that quenches our thirst and grows the plants that become our food. But mostly, we are grateful for the beloved companions who travel with us on this journey we call life.

We pray that those who hunger might someday have their fill. We pray that all will someday understand that we are all connected, that no one should be left out, that every drop of water and every single soul matters.

We also offer prayers this for members and friends of this community:

We pray for all who are suffering in body or in spirit.  We pray that they might soon find both comfort and healing.

If there are other people who should be mentioned, in prayer or in gratitude, please say their names now, just their names.

Blessings on all who have been named and upon all who have named them.  May peace be with you.

We will now have a time of silence for your personal prayer or meditation.  Silence, BELL


Blessings on this Church and upon our wider communities! Blessings on the world and all its creatures! Blessing on all of us. Namaste.  Hymn #95 there is more love


This ritual is for young and old, for rich and poor, for gay and straight, for the able and less able, for people of all backgrounds, races, and situations.  It is for founding members and first time visitors.

One of my favorite poems is I’ve Know Rivers by Langston Hughes, an African American poet from the Harlem renaissance of the 1920’s and also a gay man. It is in our hymnal #528.  Let’s read it together.

I’ve known rivers:

I’ve know rivers ancient as the

World and older than the flow of

Human blood in human veins.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I bathed in the Euphrates when

dawns were young.

I built my hut near the Congo and

It lulled me to sleep.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I looked upon the Nile and raised

The pyramids above it.

I heard the singing of the

Mississippi when Abe Lincoln

Went down to New Orleans and

I’ve seen its muddy bosom turn

All golden in the sunset.

I’ve know rivers:

Ancient dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

Our souls grow deep, I believe, when we become more aware of our connections. Souls, like rivers, cannot stand still, movement, change is in their very nature.  Just as rivers seek the sea, we humans seek connection with something greater than ourselves.

One of our tasks, as human beings, and collectively as a religious community, is to deepen our souls, to increase our understanding, and to move forward toward that transformative moment when we know that we are not alone.  That no one is alone.  We are somebody, each of us, and just like in our opening hymn. And in our final hymn this morning we will sing about the peace, the sorrow, the joy, the pain, the love, the tears, and the strength each of us has within us.  When we share our tears and our strengths, they fill us and bind us together as we move toward that deep sea of mutual care and understanding.  All of it, all of the individual drops of our complicated lives come together and create the spirit of life that can both heal and transform. It is then we really feel the power of the river, the power of love.  It is a wellspring of the spirit that calls us to drink deeply and be satisfied and renewed. Some of you may have brought water or a stone with you today that you collected from somewhere special to you. Some of you may have forgotten or simply didn’t know that we would be doing this today.  No worries, we have extra water and extra stones.     In a minute, I will invite each of you to come forward to add some water to this vase (bowl?).  This is a sacred and quiet ritual.  After the service there will be plenty of time to share your summer adventures with your friends. Today, let the water you pour symbolize the tears you have shed in your life and offer that sadness and grief into the care of this community.  Add your water without any words if that feels right or, if you are so moved, perhaps whisper a word or two that describes what you are feeling or who you are remembering.  Jesus will be playing while we do this, so not everyone will hear whatever words may be spoken, but we will all be holding on to each other, with the fullest attention of our hearts. After you have added some water, move to the altar that has the stones and add one to symbolize the strength you have within you and the faith in the power of the love that sustains us all.    After you have placed your stone, please select a different one to take with you.  Keep it warm in your hand as you return to your seats. Keep it to remind you of the strength we can find together.

Ritual blessing       Now we will bless this water and these stones. (Children) Blessed be this water gathered here from far and near;Blessed be these stones, strong and solid as the earth. Blessed be those whose lives are lived like flowing springs, and those who are steady as a rock. Blessed be this community of memory and hope, which in its coming together, in joy and sorrow, in struggle and in triumph, makes this water and these stones holy. We bless this water. (say it with me)We bless this water.And for the stones that are on this altar and the ones we are holding in our hands.We bless these stones. (say it with me) We bless these stones.


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