Chalice Reflection & Gospel--That Is, Good News!

Chalice Reflection
of
Sarah Shannon
First Parish Unitarian Universalist
Cohasset, Massachusetts
September 13, 2009

Good morning. As I understand it, this morning is about becoming and growing a community in which each person, no matter how big or how small, feels valued and respected and that he/she is a contributing member of the group.

One of the things that I was most looking forward to when I joined First Parish was sitting here as I am today – with my husband, Ken, and my children: a small, family unit that was part of a much larger community of individuals. When we joined the church, we didn’t actually have the two children that we have today. Now, when I go to sit, I will join them and begin teaching my two boys what church is, why it’s important, what I believe, how to formulate their own beliefs, and, of course, how to sit still, listen, and be quiet!

Looking back, I can remember going to church with my parents and sitting in the pews – they were uncomfortable, hard, and stiff. I hated having to sit still and be quiet and I was a sit still, be quiet kind of child, not like my boys. I loved to read. It would have been easy for my parents to let me bring a book with me. I would have been a perfect angel, but that would have defeated the purpose of bringing me to church. I can imagine that for some of the children here today, they are feeling the same way that I did as a child. And, I’m sure that some of the parents of young children are feeling the same way that I do today.

As a member of your RE committee, I believe that days such as these, our intergenerational services, are just as, if not more, important than the RE classes that go on across the street. These services teach our children that what they are learning in their RE classes is part of a much bigger entity and that Sunday isn’t just about another “class” they have to attend after a long week of learning; it’s about a religion; it’s about faith. The opportunity to attend the services shows our children that the two, class and church, aren’t mutually exclusive of each other.

I look forward to working as a part of the First Parish community to grow the Religious Education program and to teaching my children how to be contributing members of this community as well. It is my hope that even though they are small, John and Michael can start contributing now – whether that be by answering questions in their RE class or by listening to Reverend Jan on a Sunday morning and asking Ken and me questions about what she said on the ride home. I love that each person in this worship house has a voice. And I love that the tiny, high-pitched voices are just as exciting to listen to as those that are loud and deep!

If there are any parents who would like to register their children to be a part of our Religious Education Community, I will be across the street after church and would be happy to help you.

“Gospel—that is, Good News!”

A Sermon by Rev. Dr. Jan Carlsson-Bull
for the Sunday of our Annual Meeting
First Parish Unitarian Universalist
Cohasset, MA
September 13, 2009

YOU are for celebrating. You who are little kids and big kids, you who are young adults and young parents, you who are on that 50-yard-line of life, and you who are further down the field, you whom I call our ripest apples. You are all cause for celebration. Why? Because you’re alive and you’re here, and we’re here together on this first full September Sunday morning of our new church year. For me, that’s Gospel, which means…good news!

But there’s more.

We’re a growing congregation. Like the child and the townspeople in the story I shared earlier, we’re planting a garden together. We’re sowing seeds even in this season of almost-autumn. We’re sowing seeds and we’re tending the garden that is First Parish Unitarian Universalist in Cohasset. How?

You got up this morning and you had a choice. What will I do? Where will I be? You came here. You came and some of you brought your children. I see faces that are familiar and faces that are new, kids and grown-ups whom I know and kids and grown-ups whom I hope all of us will come to know. You took a chance that here you would find fellowship and song and questions that matched yours and maybe even some welcome silence—though we’re not as good at silence as we are with the other stuff.

Then there’s our choir. They’re already singing their hearts out with a rousing “Jazz Alleluia” and a traditional spiritual about “Good News.” And there’s the choir that is our whole congregation, as we lift our voices to the strains of “Enter, Rejoice, and Come In.” How can you help but smile when you sing “Enter, Rejoice, and Come In?” Its upbeat melody and steady rhythms remind me of the sounds of a carousel.

How else do we tend our garden? Right after this service, we’ll gather in fellowship across the street. We’ll have a more social chance to greet friends and newcomers, and we’ll make sure that everyone—please let’s make sure that everyone—is included as we gather in clusters and share the news of our summer and our hopes and plans for the year ahead.

Some of you will register your children for our religious education classes. They begin next week. I can’t imagine a better way for our children and youth to grow into caring adults than to participate in a program that builds an identity of caring and sharing and learning about other faiths as well as our own, and for our younger teens to begin a program called Our Whole Lives—OWL for short—that teaches healthy and caring relationships, and for our older teens to come together across congregations for a Senior High Youth Group. This is all good news for how our children grow!

By now, most of you have had a chance to read our September newsletter. In just a few short weeks, nine members of this congregation will leave for Guatemala through a project called Common Hope that this congregation has participated in for close to a decade. You’ll bring shoes that we gathered and purchased last spring, shoes that will find their way onto the feet of village schoolchildren. In fact, it’s not too late for the rest of us to gather even more shoes. Most importantly, you, our Common Hope Vision Team, will bring yourselves, your good will, and your readiness to roll up your sleeves and work on behalf of our neighbors to the south, neighbors who struggle mightily to makes ends meet. And you’ll reunite with Salomon, the young boy turned young man who has been the recipient of this congregation’s generosity for many years. You’ll meet Salomon’s wife and new baby. And you’ll work hard and remember well so you can come back and tell us the good news of your time there.

I could go on. Gospel is alive here. Who we are and how we seek to be for each other and this community and our world is all about the Gospel—that is, the good news of this faith whose core is love.

As background, I grew up as a Presbyterian, which is not a bad thing by the way! As a Presbyterian Christian, I grew up learning what I thought was “the Gospel.” I didn’t know there was more than one! Gospel for the younger me meant the good news of the coming of Jesus and that he was my Lord and Savior. I know there are some Unitarian Universalists who also identify as Christian. If anyone asks me if I’m Christian as a “UU,” I say, “inclusively but not exclusively,”—that is, yes, I am, but I’m not just Christian. I find truth in other religions and in literature and poetry and movies and the drama of the ocean. I know, some of YOU would say the drama of the Red Sox! In this part of the country, the Red Sox is Gospel!

But it’s one thing to be a fan, another thing to be committed to an ongoing community whose driving force is walking together in a covenant—a community promise—of love. As Unitarian Universalists, what is our Gospel? What is our core force? “…the glowing coal at our center is radically inclusive love” are the words Elizabeth Stevens chooses to describe it. Rev. Elizabeth Stevens is minister of the Kitsap Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Bremerton, Washington, and with her permission I share her words with you this morning. Inspired by exciting worship and stirring lectures and the energy of over 3,000 Unitarian Universalists gathered in Salt Lake City, Utah at our General Assembly this past June, Liz wrote of her “strong feeling that the 'glowing coal' at our center is radically inclusive love and that we are called from that center to the work of building THE (global) beloved community.”

Beloved community is a phrase often used by the late Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. King scholars Kenneth Smith and Ira Zepp describe King’s vision of beloved community as “a vision of a completely integrated society, a community of love and justice wherein brotherhood would be an actuality in all of social life.”

Love, community, and passion for both are at the heart of our deepest and widest hopes for this faith community. As for that “glowing coal” at our center, I remember when my daughter Sarah, now 30-something, was about seven years old. On the ride home from church one Sunday, I mentioned something about our flaming chalice. Without a second’s pause, Sarah chimed in, “Oh yeah, that ‘steaming pot of fire.’”

What glows and steams for you? What is your faith gospel, your good news? I’ll be asking you to share your stories over the year ahead. I know you have them, or you wouldn’t be here.

For now, let’s catch some of what Liz and I caught in the presence of our larger UU world this summer in Salt Lake City, some of the “Gospel fire,” we might call it.

Love is at the heart of a campaign launched at that same General Assembly that stirred Liz and me. You’ll hear more about it as the year unfolds. “Standing on the side of love,” it’s called. Like any campaign, this one has a manager. His name is Adam Gerhardstein. Adam is a young adult who manages this campaign out of our Unitarian Universalist Association’s Office of Advocacy in Washington, DC. Right after General Assembly ended, he wrote of his experiences with its launching, which included a number of volunteers who filmed folks telling their own “love stories.”

Each morning [wrote Adam]… the Standing on the Side of Love volunteers gathered in my hotel room/campaign headquarters at 7:30 am. We started each meeting by checking-in about our experiences the previous day. …Here is one story:

‘I filmed a straight woman who said that she stood on the side of love with her daughter and her daughter's female partner, who are unable to marry. As a queer person, I was deeply moved by her words, and my face must have shown a strange mixture of pain and gratitude. Later that day, a Spanish language news program was searching for a Spanish-speaker to interview at the interfaith rally. I'm neither Latina nor an immigrant, but I speak Spanish, so I volunteered. I told the reporter that we were supporting immigrants because it is wrong to persecute families who only want to work hard and build better lives. Afterwards, the cameraperson, a middle-aged Latino man, said a soft and heartfelt, 'Thank you.' I recognized the emotions on his face--they were the same emotions I had felt listening to that mother.’

Adam ends his message with the simple words, “Love is powerful.”

I could tell so many more good news love stories, and so could you, but I have a clock right in front of this pulpit. And it’s telling me that even “good news” has a period at the end of a sermon about it.

This morning’s gospel for me is the good news that we are, that we are here, that we are here together, and that we are here together in the promise of standing on the side of love all year long and into all the years of our life together. May it be so. I love you each and all. Amen.


Sources:

“Enter, Rejoice, and Come In,” Words and music: Louise Ruspini, Arr. by Better A. Wylder (1923 - ), in Singing the Living Tradition, The Unitarian Universalist Association, Beacon Press, Boston, 1993, 361.

Adam Gerhardstein, “Standing on the Side of Love at GA,” July 7, 2009 e-mail from love@uua.org. A one-time email to everyone who experienced the General Assembly launch of the Standing on the Side of Love campaign.

http://www.standingonthesideoflove.org/

Rev. Elizabeth Stevens, “…the ‘glowing coal” at our center…” quoted from July 2, 2009. Permission to quote received by Rev. Stevens July 7, 2009.

Kenneth L. Smith and Ira G. Zepp, Jr., “Martin Luther King’s Vision of the Beloved Community,” Christian Century, April 3, 1974, pp. 361-363. Material prepared for Religion Online by Ted and Winnie Brock: http://www.religion-online.org/showarticle.asp?title=1603

Our Fathers

“Our Fathers”

A Sermon by Rev. Dr. Jan Carlsson-Bull
First Parish Unitarian Universalist
Cohasset, MA
June 21, 2009

Father’s Day, a day to honor the men who sired us, raised us, nurtured us, mentored us, taught us. A day also to wince at the pain and frustration known by some among us who do not feel so inclined to honor the men who sired, raised, and taught us. It’s a tough cookie, this matter of Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, whether we consider our mothers and fathers—and some of us may well have two of each—or whether we consider the mothering or fathering that we have done and continue to practice. Parenting is such a daunting process, I’m convinced sometimes that it’s all practice. This is why I always say to any among you who announce that you’re expecting a child, whether you’re expecting a birth child or an adoptive child, “Congratulations! Your life will never be the same.”

Parenting is not for the faint of heart. For good reason the fifth commandment of those legendary commandments of Moses does not say: “Love your father and mother,” but “Honor your father and mother,” and not for their sake but, as one translation goes, “that your days may be long in the land which the Lord your God gives you.” (Exodus 20:12)

A demeanor of honor, of respectful civility for our parents, is counseled across faith traditions. In the story I related earlier of the young man and his elderly father sharing a backyard bench, this is conveyed through the brief interchange between them and the background chirping of a sparrow, which held the rapt gaze of the father. Attuned to his surroundings, most especially, the delicate bird, the elderly father asked his young adult son again and again, “What is that?” pointing to the sparrow. The son, with his nose in a newspaper, replied to the first few rounds with a matter-of-fact, “A sparrow.” When the father repeated the question, the son grew increasingly irritated, until the elderly father rose to go into the house. In a moment, he returned with a book, which he handed to his son, indicating to him to read “loud” a certain passage. The son read of how a one-time three-year-old asked repeatedly the same question his father had been asking repeating, also in reference to a delicate sparrow: “What is that?” Again and again, the young father had replied patiently, “A sparrow.” The young man’s face softened and saddened. With remorse over how miserably he had failed to show his father the love and patience his father had shown him, the son reached over and embraced the man who was now as innocent as he had been as a three-year-old child.

The scenario concludes with a passage from the Quran:

“The Lord hath decreed that ye worship none but Him, and that ye be kind to parents. Whether one or both of them attain old age in thy life, say not to them a word of contempt, or repel them, but address them in terms of honor. And out of kindness, lower to them the wing of humility, and say: ‘My Lord! Bestow on them thy Mercy even as they cherished me in childhood.” (Sura isra’a 23-24)

It could as easily have been the passage from the 20th chapter of the Book of Exodus.

The elderly father reminds me of my grandfathers. My Grandfather Edwards sat me as a young child on his lap and taught me songs and prayers with the same ease that he took me by the hand and brought me along to the Halfa Store, a spot-in-the-road general store, where I hopped on his lap and listened to my Grandad and his farmer friends talk away an hour or so as they shared a beer and kept me well supplied with ice cream. As a teenager, I witnessed this same Granddad losing his hold on the precious stuff of his life—his prayers, his songs, his conversations with friends then gone, his capacity to take the hand of a child as a kindly and confident guide. This was not always a patient man, but had he retained the faculty to remind any of us amid any later impatience with him of our shared history, he could have done so with the same nobility that this Muslim father extended to his son.

As some of us gather in circles of family and friends to honor today the fathers among us, I wonder at the gifts that will be given. I wonder how many resemble the gifts given by Roscoe Sr.’s sons to their father on the occasion of his 40th birthday in the story I shared from John McCluskey, Jr.’s much longer story. Cigars we will likely not give, given what we know of their effects; but the boldly patterned shirts and ties will flow in abundance. And I wonder how many fathers, many as rough and tumble as Roscoe, Sr., will proudly wear those precious gifts with no regard for friends who might look askance at their taste.

Yes, there are fathers whom some of us never knew and don’t know. Yes, there are fathers whom we would rather not know. And yes, there are fathers, grandfathers, stepfathers, and father figures who have nurtured us with time, patience, stories, and examples of how to live honorable lives, that we too might be fathers or mothers or simply nurturing adults who pass on the stories and lessons, that we too might be carriers of the love.

Our fathers are many and variable, honorable and dishonorable, lovable and otherwise. How might we receive those gifts worthy of passing on to the next generation and know that the cycles we choose to continue or break and re-form ensure that what we pass on is worthy of the next generation? Fathering comes in so many flavors and is received with so many hopes and assumptions. Fathering comes in so many textures. Its gifts are varied and linger. The ties that bind are arrayed with the same hopes and hurts that we bring to our childhoods, childhoods lived and remembered, childhoods that we continue to live out.

What might we say on this Father’s Day to those male figures who have nurtured us and otherwise? Perhaps another rendition of a familiar prayer would suffice:

Our fathers, who are of this earth, who have struggled and achieved and failed and succeeded and laughed and cried as we have, your reality is dear;

Your kingdom is of this earth, our homes, our communities, our nations peaceful and war-torn. Your kingdom is here and now, and you know there is only kingdom, no king.

You have done what you could to put food on the table. For those of you who couldn’t, we forgive you. You have done what you could to ensure our safety. For those of you who couldn’t, we forgive you. You have done what you could to ensure that we grew into loving and honorable men and women, sons and daughters of whom you could be proud. For those of you who didn’t, we forgive you. Would you forgive us when we have failed to honor your attempts? Would you forgive us when we fail to forgive you?

May we not lean into that mindset that closes our hearts to you. May we resist the temptation to know more, feel more, be more than you possibly could and then take credit for the whole harvest. May we stray not into the illusion of asserting that we are better, fairer, and finer than you. Recall us to our humanhood. Remind us that none of us are ever loved as we think we need to be loved. Teach us once again to keep our eye on the sparrow. Teach us through the stories, the images, the songs, and the silence, that we are in this life as members of the great family of all who have ever lived and all who are now alive. Teach us that kingdoms and power and glory are to be shared, because we are all in this amazing life together. Amen.



Sources:

The Second Book of Moses Commonly Called Exodus, The Bible (Revised Standard Version)

John McCluskey, Jr., “Forty in the Shade,” in Memory of Kin: Stories About Family by Black Writers, Edited by Mary Helen Washington, Anchor Books, Doubleday, New York, 1991, 199-201 (from Mr. America’s Last Season Blues by John McCluskey, Jr., Copyright 1983 by John McCluskey, Jr. Reprinted by permission of Louisiana State University Press. This selection originally appeared as a short story in Obsidian, IV, Number 1, under the title “Forty in the Shade.”

Video and script of the story of the Muslim father and son, http://www.youtube. com/watch? v=7rMzbgu30yY.

Chalice Reflection & Sing to Your Heart's Content

Chalice Reflection
of
Jim FitzGerald
First Parish Unitarian Universalist
Cohasset, Massachusetts
June 14, 2009

During my years of study at seminary, one of my favorite topics included the Hebrew Bible prophets.

A prophet is someone who speaks on behalf of someone else. In religious scripture, the prophet has been understood as one who speaks on behalf of God.

Since the prophet Jeremiah often had a contentious relationship with God, he quickly became one of my favorites. It is in the first chapter of the book of the prophet Jeremiah that famously begins “before I formed you in the womb, I knew you.”

While the context of this saying relates to Jeremiah’s call to being God’s prophet, it is often remembered when celebrating parenthood. I’ve been reflecting on that phrase for this chalice reflection for two reasons.

First, today is the Sunday before Father’s Day and it is appropriate to begin thinking in anticipation of such a celebration day that honors our fathers.

Secondly, I’ve been thinking about this phrase because my partner Jaimy and I are expecting a child – due in mid October, making it appropriate that as a father-to-be, I offer such a reflection a week before Father’s Day.

“Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you.” I have reflected on this saying in a number of ways, carefully reconstructing the phrase to gain deeper insight:
As you were taking form in the womb, I began to know you
I knew your spirit before you were formed in the womb.

I wondered what meaning the phrase would have if the direction were reversed. Instead of hearing the parent’s voice in the phrase, what if we heard a child’s voice?

Before I was formed in the womb, I knew you.
As I was taking form in the womb, I began to know you.
I feel your spirits with me, Mom and Dad, as I take form in the womb.

Whether read from a parents’ perspective or a child’s, the wisdom from the Hebrew tradition is loud and clear - the bond of love exists long before flesh takes form.

Since learning that we’re expecting a child, feelings range from intense excitement – like when Jaimy and I see the profound joy between parents and child as they play. Jaimy and I look at one another as if to say – “we can’t wait.”

At other times, Jaimy and I witness parents in utter frustration and exhaustion while their toddler throws a temper tantrum at the Stop and Shop check-out line. Jaimy and I look at one another with uncontrollable fear as if to say – “Oh my God, what have we gotten ourselves into!”
However, feelings of excitement always win out, and the wisdom from Jeremiah comforts the soul knowing this profound relationship has already begun.

I don’t know whether Jaimy and I will have a son or a daughter. Honestly, we only reflect on that aspect when someone asks. The rest of the time, we just observe in awe and are overwhelmed at the miracle unfolding.

I often place my hand on Jaimy’s growing belly and whisper “I’m here… waiting to welcome you, to hold you, to love you. I can’t wait to see you.” In my spirit, I hear a little voice on the other side of that wall of flesh saying with hope and anticipation – “I can’t wait either, Dad.”

As we journey to next Sunday’s celebration of our fathers, let’s spend this morning singing to our heart’s content as we hold in our thoughts and prayers those parents-to-be. Because when we see the temper tantrums in the middle of Stop and Shop – we parents-to-be realize we need all the prayers we can get.

“Sing to Your Heart’s Content”

A Sermon by Rev. Dr. Jan Carlsson-Bull
First Parish Unitarian Universalist
Cohasset, MA
June 14, 2009

“O sing unto the Lord a new song: sing unto the Lord all the earth.” So sounds the first verse of the 96th Psalm. We who are Unitarian Universalists may have a hard time hearing these words, loathe as we are 1) to accept biblical verse as commandment and 2) to sing new songs. On that first point—accepting Biblical verse as commandment—we have a choice. We can hear those words not as a commandment, but as an invitation. And we can substitute whatever or whomever for “the Lord.” We can simply sing a new song, which raises the matter of our reluctance to do so.

How many times have I heard, “Please, can’t we just sing the familiar ones?” I tend to respond with: “Remember, there was once a time when you had never tasted chocolate,” hoping of course that I’m diffusing the resistance of an all-out chocolate lover.

So too there was once a time when we had never heard “Silent Night” or “Spirit of Life.” And there may be folks here this morning, newcomers to this church and this faith, who have never heard “Spirit of Life.”

In the spirit of Pete Seeger and the story I adapted from the story he adapted, the story of Abiyoyo, we’re reminded that a new song can still a giant after he exhausts himself dancing to a new song that is completely irresistible. In the story, the young boy and his father conspired to disarm the giant Abiyoyo by music and magic. Imagine a song whose only lyrics are your name. It’s enough to make a scary giant smile and dance like he’s never danced.

The stuff of stories you might say. Ah yes, but there are those giants that lurk in the hearts and minds not only of young children, but of ripe and otherwise sage adults. Each of us holds fears that sometimes loom like terrifying giants. Sometimes we call them phobias. Sometimes we call them nightmares. Sometimes we call them memories. I wonder how a song, a brand new song, might pacify the giants that lurk and linger in spirit and psyche.

New songs with an arresting lilt and fresh lyrics have a way of taking us by surprise and bringing us to a place we never thought we could go. Old songs comfort; new songs awaken. Sometimes there’s a bridge joining old and new.

So it is with “Spirit of Life” and “Rising Green,” the song we’re about to sing. The bridge is Carolyn McDade, who wrote them both. While “Spirit of Life” may be our “familiar song,” it was actually written after “Rising Green.” Carolyn is a longtime songwriter and a neighbor, living on the Cape. She has also been described as a “feminist activist.” In her own words, she says “I write love songs to social movements.”

Return to the words of “Spirit of Life.” They’re laced with a spirituality of compassion and justice. The song was written as a prayer, and so we sing it as an extension of our communal prayer. I wonder if “Spirit of Life” could have calmed the spirit of Abiyoyo. My guess is: How could it not?

The song we’re about to sing holds its own disarming lyrics. In the spirit of life renewed and abiding love that we celebrate this morning, “Rising Green” sings like a psalm of new life and abiding love. You’ll find the words in your orders of service. Allegra [Music Director] will lead us. I invite you all to sing out and please, sing to your heart’s content.


Sources:
Between the Lines: Sources for Singing the Living Tradition, Edited by Jacqui James, Second Edition, Skinner House Books, Boston, 1998.

Kimberly French, “Carolyn McDade’s spirit of life: Unitarian Universalism's most beloved song, the woman who wrote it, and the communities that sustain her spirit, UU World, Fall 2007,
http://www.uuworld.org/life/articles/35893.shtml.

Carolyn McDade, “Rising Green,” in Singing the Journey: A Supplement to Singing the Living Tradition, Unitarian Universalist Association, 2005, 1068.

Carolyn McDade, “Spirit of Life,” in Singing the Living Tradition, The Unitarian Universalist Association, Beacon Press, Boston, 1993, 123.

Pete Seeger and Paul DuBois Jacobs, “Abiyoyo” in Pete Seeger’s Storytelling Book, A Harvest Book, Harcourt, Inc., New York, 2000.

Graduating Seniors' Chalice Reflection and Remarks & Opening Words & In Praise and Gratitude

Chalice Reflection
of
Abbott Cowen, Graduating Senior
First Parish Unitarian Universalist
Cohasset, Massachusetts
Recognition Sunday – June 7, 2009

Good morning everyone! I think it has been quite some time since I’ve been up here speaking in front of you all. It’s nice to be back. Before I begin, I must say that this chalice reflection was actually supposed to be a joint piece between Nathan and me. However, I guess Nathan had too many graduation parties to go to this week and thus didn’t have any time to come up with anything good. Apparently he is just way more popular than I am. It is true though that these last few weeks have been busy ones.

I guess Nathan and I have reached one of those big transition milestones. You know, one of those times where the older people look back fondly, or maybe not so fondly, on old memories and the younger people look up at you and think: damn, you’re old! So yes, graduating from high school is a big deal, at least for us.

Nathan graduated last Saturday and I graduated just two days ago on Friday. Friday night as I was thinking about how much I was going to miss Milton Academy, I realized that I really wasn’t going to miss it at all. There is nothing all that special about the big glass student center or Forbes dining hall or the science trailers. What I am really going to miss are all the friendships I have made with students and teachers over the last four years. It has been very interesting to see how our class has dealt with the inevitable separation. Some pull their friends closer and others push them away. I think I have been in more fights and exchanged more loving words with friends in these last two weeks than I have in the last two years. These kids have helped shape who I am today and I have become very close with some of them. It’s hard to think that after Friday most of these friends I will only see at the occasional class reunion.

As I stand up here in front of you all today, I realize that the same thing is probably true for this church. I leave in just over a week to go out west for the summer and then jump right into college life when I get back. While I will hopefully be back on my vacations, I will be more or less MIA for the next four years.

Many of you in this community have affected me as I have grown up in this church, and I hold many fond memories. I remember building a cardboard fruit stand in the old meeting house with my dad and Jacqui Clark and selling apples to the rest of the congregation. I remember Shirley Wallace taking all of us in the Coming of Age program to different churches on the South Shore and into Boston for a great sleepover. I remember my mentor, Miraculous Mark. There is a really good story that goes along with that name; you’ll have to ask him about it. He’s a pretty miraculous guy. I remember the youth group and John and Leeanne and all the great fun that we had together. While I have not been present so much this year, Jim has certainly stepped up to fill their place. I remember Jan keeping a watchful eye over all us kids in the RE programs or just being there for a conversation about really anything. And of course, I remember my best buddy Nathan. It has been a fantastic 15 years or so in this community, and while this isn’t really goodbye I would just like to thank you all so much for making this such a great community to grow up in. It has really been fantastic and I will never forget it. Thank you!

Remarks
of
Nathan Wallace, Graduating Senior
First Parish Unitarian Universalist
Cohasset, Massachusetts
Recognition Sunday – June 7, 2009

Good Morning -

I’ve been coming to First Parish for over 10 years now, and throughout my life many people have influenced me, allowing me to become a better, more spiritual person. I’d like to thank Jacqui Clark, John and Leeann, and Jim for being truly the greatest RE teachers and directors one could hope to work under. I’d also like to thank Jan for showing me that living each day to the fullest is the most fulfilling way to live. Finally, I’d like to thank the entire congregation. Without your support, my violin playing wouldn’t have taken off like it has, and I would not be the person I am today. Thank you all.

Opening Words
of
Jim FitzGerald
First Parish Unitarian Universalist
Cohasset, Massachusetts
Recognition Sunday – June 7, 2009

As we journey together toward the conclusion of another extraordinary church year, we take time during this special service to reflect and celebrate.

This year we've welcomed new members and mourned the passing of friends. We've cared for one another when illness trumped our daily routines with worry, injury and or sickness.

We've struggled together, laughed together, argued and created together. We've provoked one another and supported one another.

All of which, from time to time caused some tears of sadness and tears of joy.

Today we pause - a sacred pause, to recognize the wonderful ministries in which so many congregation members offer their time and talent.

We also honor the rite of passage of our graduating seniors - Nathan Wallace, Abbott Cowen, and Rachel McMorris. Two of our graduates, Nathan and Abbott are here with us this morning to participate and celebrate. Nathan will offer his spirit in his music and Abbott will offer his wisdom in his chalice reflection.

At this time, I'd like to invite Nathan and Abbott to come forward and light our chalice as we begin our service of praise and gratitude.

Recognizing our graduates
I don't know what it is like to have a son. But, if I am ever blessed with a son, I hope he grows to be honorable and virtuous as Nathan and Abbott.

Shirley and Ron; Annie and Will - you must be so proud.

I think everyone here will agree that adolescence is not easy. Even with the most loving parents and supportive community, life is tested, expectations are real, and pressure to succeed only seems to become more intense.

Rarely have I witnessed two young men handle those pressures with more grace and integrity than Nathan and Abbott.

Abbott personifies the phrase "mature beyond their years." Abbott reflects the Unitarian Universalist virtue of wisdom and confidence that we all witnessed in his wonderful chalice reflection this morning.

Nathan's gentle spirit conveys the Unitarian Universalist trait of unconditional welcome. Regardless of how old someone is, what they look like, or where they've come from, they find unconditional welcome when meeting Nathan. That same gentle spirit will sing from violin strings later this morning.

Nathan and Abbott, this morning we honor you with fond memories of the past and with excitement and anticipation for the future. But most importantly, we celebrate you both today for exactly who you are in this every moment.

Abbott and Nathan, you have a congregation that loves you and a faith community that will always be here to support you, unconditionally, today and forever.

I offer you both a blessing, the same blessing I offered you on my first day here at First Parish Unitarian Universalist in Cohasset - a blessing I borrow from the Buddhist tradition.

Abbott and Nathan
May you both be filled with loving kindness.
May you both be well.
May you both be peaceful and at ease.
And most of all, may you both be happy.
Amen.

“In Praise and Gratitude”

A Homily by Rev. Dr. Jan Carlsson-Bull
on Recognition Sunday
First Parish Unitarian Universalist
Cohasset, MA
June 7, 2009

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Let the bells ring and the “Jubilates” sound. Praise and gratitude are the order of the day. Praise and gratitude for all of you who have given abundantly by heart, hand, and funds to sustain and grow the ministries of this congregation over this past year. You have planned, imagined, and strategized. You have organized and orchestrated. You have cooperated and collaborated. You have taught, mentored, and chaperoned. You have reached out and reached in. You have advocated; you have decided. You have cared for each other and for our larger community. You have shared your stories and listened to the stories of others. You have sung and danced. You have baked and served. You have fixed up and cleaned up. You have worshipped together, hoped together, hurt together, laughed together, and celebrated together.

You are what faithful community looks like. You are what faithful community is. You are what seals and solidifies the prospects of this congregation into the next century.

We celebrate you today, and we celebrate our graduating seniors, Abbot and Nathan. We hold you in our hearts, guys; and will dare to ask: “Are you sure you want to go off to college so soon? Didn’t you just start high school this year? Wasn’t it last year that you started kindergarten?” Okay, one of the toughest tasks of parenting is letting go; one of the toughest tasks of your church family is letting go. Jim has shared so eloquently the thoughts that we all hold. Our choir has sung so poetically the choices that are yours. You have spoken so poignantly of what it means to stand on the threshold that is this time of your life. Your words and music linger. The doors of this church and our hearts are ever open to you.

In praise and gratitude, we worship together this morning. Praise and gratitude remind us that none of us can solo dance our faith. We’re in it together. Independent, opinionated, distinctive as we fancy ourselves to be, we are called again and again to affirm our interdependence, our growing edges, our religious community. We do so across opinions, across conventional boundaries of race and class and sexual and gender identity, across generations, and across the years.

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! In praise and thanksgiving, I am so grateful for all you do and all are you are; and I love you, each and every one.

Amen.

Chalice Reflection & Introduction to Coming of Age Presentations & For Our Coming of Age Youth

Chalice Reflection
of
Jackie Whipple
First Parish Unitarian Universalist
Cohasset, Massachusetts
Coming of Age Sunday – May 31, 2009

I have been asked to light the chalice today because I am a grandparent with a lot of experience-- from what your R.E. Director and your Minister are kindly calling “the wisdom generation.” I have been the mentor of two different girls, about a generation apart. And my husband and I have raised two sons and two daughters who Came of Age in this church. And we have four grandsons--one of whom had the Jewish Coming of Age ritual, a Bar Mitzvah. And we have six granddaughters, one of whom also had a Bat Mitzvah.

As you young people know from your year’s study, almost every culture and religion has a ritual marking the coming of age. About the age of 13, you start the transition from childhood to responsible adulthood. Your body is growing up; your thoughts, interests, activities, and beliefs are becoming more grown up too; and some ambitions for your future may be forming. When I was thirteen, I read a book titled “Girl Reporter” and that set my path for the rest of my life. At this age, probably you want more independence and privacy; want to go places and do things on your own; wear what you want to wear; spend more time with your friends than with your parents; redecorate your room, and/or shut your door and live in a mess. All perfectly normal behavior!

Things are changing for your parents, too. A new era of worries: worrying about where you are and who you are with, and why you haven’t come home yet--and other things-- Dreading the day you get your driver’s license. All perfectly normal behavior!

Everything should work out well however: because you all have a good UU background and family relationships of trust and respect--and you all will have your cell phones!

Introduction to Coming of Age Presentations
Jim FitzGerald
First Parish Unitarian Universalist
Cohasset, Massachusetts
Coming of Age Sunday – May 31, 2009

Nine youngsters participated in this year’s Coming of Age program and all nine Coming of Age youth successfully completed the required program expectations. The class visited various faith communities, participated in community service projects, and teamed up with an adult mentor for conversations relating to their faith tradition, spirituality, and life. The program now comes to this milestone conclusion in this offering of credo presentations.

The religious education program asked our Coming of Age class to present their credo presentations in one of three ways:
 take the traditional approach of reading a prepared statement from the pulpit
 engage in a credo dialogue between mentor and mentee
 offer their credo presentation in the form of a painting, sculpture, piece of artwork or craft, perform a musical selection, etc. with some spoken explanation of how their creation illustrates their personal beliefs

The choice – is completely up to each mentor and mentee pair.

In a few moments, mentors will be invited to offer some introductory remarks about their mentee before each credo presentation is given. After each Coming of Age class member completes their presentation, mentors and mentees will engage in a simple ritual.

Mentors will light and present to their mentee a chalice to symbolize our Unitarian Universalist faith and the search for truth and meaning that they have shared throughout this program. Mentees will present their mentor with a rose. The rose, traditionally used during a child’s dedication, reappears this morning to symbolize the many ways in which each mentor has helped their mentee blossom and unfold into the promise of a beautiful life.

“For Our Coming of Age Youth”

A Message by Rev. Dr. Jan Carlsson-Bull
on Coming of Age Sunday
First Parish Unitarian Universalist
Cohasset, MA
May 31, 2009

When I was your age…. No! I won’t go there. I can just see my own kids turned adults rolling their eyes, sure that they know what’s coming. You’re probably better off not knowing about “when I was your age.”

You are the age you are, and you always will be. That doesn’t quite mean that you’ll be forever 12 or 13 or 14, but you will be exactly the age you are, whether it’s 12 or 13 or 14 or 32 or 53 or 73 or maybe 93 or 103. This morning marks your Coming of Age, when your families and your church honor you as you pause in your own distinctive ways at the open gate between childhood and adulthood. Okay, you don’t get to vote yet. You’re too young for a driver’s license. You’re too young according to the by-laws of this congregation to be an official member. You’re too old for childcare. You’re too old for adults to pat you on the head. You’re in that fuzzy time—too young for this, too old for that.

Which means, you’re just right! You are the age that you need to be. You’re exactly the right age to Come of Age.

You’re of the age when you need not forget what it is to be little, to be a child, to take in the smallest detail of the world as if you’re breathing, touching, tasting, hearing, and holding it for the first time. Never forget what that’s like. Hold it dear.

You’re of the age of leaning into adulthood. You don’t yet have the responsibility or the freedom of adulthood, and they come as a package. Yet this is a time to try out responsibility, to taste freedom; and this is a time when you’re trying the resilience of your elders as you sometimes dip too deep for safety into the well of freedom, even as you swell the hearts of your elders as you sometimes assume responsibility beyond your age, beyond the call of childhood.

You both cherish the opinions of others and stretch your own will to be uniquely you. It’s a tightrope, calling for balance. Don’t be afraid to fall off, knowing that there’s a safety net called your family and your church to catch you. Pay close attention. It’s a trip that you only take once. It is precious and sacred, as you are precious and sacred.

You are coming of age, which is to say, you are becoming who you are. Like the flame in our chalice, you are never still. Your credo, your “I believe,” will change over time. What you have shared with us this morning is no less dear. Return to it five years from now, ten years from now. Return to it when you reach your ripest years. It is a sacred expression of who you are and what matters most to you today.

What matters most to me today is that you are you. You are uniquely wondrously you. Melissa, Sarah, Sasha, Brodie, Isabelle, Adrian, Emily, Julia, and Arianna, I hold you in my heart. This entire congregation, your family of faith, holds you in our hearts as we celebrate you today. I love you. We love you.

Memories and Reflections

“Memories and Reflections”

A Message by Rev. Dr. Jan Carlsson-Bull
for Memorial Day Sunday
First Parish Unitarian Universalist
Cohasset, MA
May 24, 2009

Life and death, those two strands that we braid and un-braid, braid and un-braid. On this day of memory and remembering, they are intimately woven. We’re here and alive in this time and space. We remember those who are not.

It’s not so simple.

For some of us, today is a day of remembering and honoring the war dead, those who were downwind from the winds of war. Some here this morning knew those winds intimately. I don’t know how much you remember, but it’s tough to gloss over what happened, tougher perhaps to bring them into the light of today. Surely there’s an intimacy established among those of you who were in combat, a brotherly/sisterly bond that prevails and protects. When those of us who have not seen combat presume to guess what it was like, we flail and we fail. We’ll never know. I hope we’ll never know.

Memorial Day for me is a somewhat turbulent time. I’m torn between honoring all who have died and calling special attention to those who have perished because we as humankind have been less than kind. Again and again, we have failed to rise to a diplomacy that prevents what I believe is one of the great sins of humanity. So rather than honoring the so-called war dead exclusively, I seek to honor all who have known the precious gift of life and have moved into the mystery that is common to all life, the mystery of death.

By memory and love, those who have died endure. Some live on in common memory. Most fade in the mortal memory of survivors who inevitably join the ranks of the dead. I cannot give them names, for their names are forgotten; but they once graced this earth—for better and worse and across that immense space between. I invoke especially the lives of the long forgotten.

How to “gather at the river” that flows with the droplets of each life, above a bed of ancient stones? How to “gather at the river” affirming each droplet, each ancient stone? How to “gather at the river?” In the spirit of gathered memory, I invite us to speak responsively the words of Rabbi Roland Gittelsohn:

Responsive Reading 720, "We Remember Them," Roland B. Gittelsohn (adapted)

…………………..…..

“In the opening of buds and in the rebirth of spring, we remember them.”

On this day of memory and remembering, I invite your voices of memory and reflection. Whose memory would you like to lift up this morning? How does this person’s life touch you today?

Voices of Memory and Reflection



Sources:

Roland B. Gittelsohn, “We Remember Them,” in Singing the Living Tradition, The Unitarian Universalist Association, Beacon Press, Boston, 1993, 720.

Robert Lowery, “Shall We Gather at the River” (words and music), First published in Happy Voices in 1865. In Singing the Journey: A Supplement to Singing the Living Tradition, Unitarian Universalist Association, Boston, 2005, 1046

Chalice Reflection & A Completely Divine Day

Chalice Reflection
of
Joan Lunt
First Parish Unitarian Universalist
Cohasset, Massachusetts
May 17, 2009

Note: Joan wrote this after she and her Circle Ministry (small group ministry) group spent a day working at a Habitat for Humanity project in Hingham. She offered it as her chalice reflection.

With a happy heart and money to spend,
Our circle ministry was challenged to lend,
Our vision, our skill to seed and connect,
New beginnings awaited us, I did suspect.

One cold winter Sunday in Trueblood Hall,
We began with a mission and a call,
To share our passions and hobbies held dear.
Our stunning success became very clear.

Starting with spinach calzones and ending with treats,
We discovered each other's special feats,
And music was made and a seed was planted,
Our wish for a special connection was granted.

Next a promise and a new endeavor,
A selfless act to be proud of forever,
So it was on that dreary April morn,
Our connection to Habitat for Humanity was born.

So loving, kind and friendly was our crew,
We knew this was what we were meant to do,
Coming together in this significant way,
Made for a truly glorious day!

Thanks for the connections,
Thanks for the promises we honored so true,
Thanks for the challenge we knew we could do.