The flame of ritual is re-lit for #Unitarians in Ringwood at Easter 2023

Like an empty cross

Stands the lone cold wick.

Like a cold bare tomb

The fire’s grate.

The flame recalled, in hope no doubt,

Rising from the ashes of the light snuffed out.

(Words for lighting the candle in the chalice)

Last Sunday, Easter Sunday, we included physical ritual in our gathering for the first time since the COVID19 pandemic, and it’s a sign that we in Ringwood are at last throwing off the mental shackles associated with the pandemic, and getting back to how we were before it all started.

In a reflective and meditative service, we built on our overall approach to the Gospel — and, in particular, the book attributed to Mark — as ‘shared story’ for personal reflection.  In this service, the ‘shared story’ vehicle for the reflection and meditation was not a Bible reading, but instead a version of the 'Stations of the Cross' meditation, used for hundreds of years in various Christian traditions. 

There were only a few words offered as content, those being the words used at lighting the candle in the chalice, and the words used as the response for the prayer at each station.

Leader: "With compassion we gaze on thy story.

Response: "Because in it we see something of the world."

Rather than being a wordy service, there was much time for personal quiet.  Participants were invited to picture the moment at each station, and let our reflection go where it will.  Recorded chants from the Taizé-style of worship were also played during the ritual.  Traditionally, inside a church building the Stations of the Cross would be carried out by walking to a series of physical locations in the church.  But with all our participants seated in a circle, our president for the day decided to mark each of the fourteen stations by passing a candle round the full circle, hand to hand.

"I have come to feel that [rituals] have another purpose — to end, for a time, our sense of human alienation from nature and from each other…….Rituals have the power to reset the terms of our universe until we find ourselves suddenly and truly at home."

Margot Adler, Drawing Down the Moon

"Any ritual is an opportunity for transformation.  To do ritual, you must be willing to be transformed in some way.  That inner willingness is what makes the ritual come alive and have power.  If you aren’t willing to be changed by the ritual, don’t do it."

Starhawk, Truth or Dare

To this last quote, we would add: if you aren't willing to be changed by the ritual, you are not, in fact, doing the ritual (no matter that it looks like you are).

Stations of the Cross (source: Wikipedia, adapted)

The Stations of the Cross or the Way of the Cross, also known as the Way of Sorrows or the Via Crucis, refers to a series of images depicting Jesus on the day of his crucifixion, and accompanying prayers. 

The Stations of the Cross ritual has existed in one form or another for at least five hundred years.  The earliest use of the word "stations", as applied to the accustomed halting-places along the Via Sacra at Jerusalem, occurs in the narrative of an English pilgrim, William Wey, who visited the Holy Land in the mid-15th century and described pilgrims following the footsteps of Jesus to Golgotha. It has become one of the most popular devotions and the stations can be found in many Western Christian churches, including those in the Roman Catholic, Lutheran, Anglican, and Methodist traditions.

Out of the fourteen traditional Stations of the Cross, only eight have a clear scriptural foundation.  To provide a version of this devotion more closely aligned with the biblical accounts, Pope John Paul II introduced a new form of devotion, called the Scriptural Way of the Cross, on Good Friday 1991. 

Hosting the Southern #Unitarian Association gathering on 1 June in the New Forest

Last Saturday, 1 June 2019, we were delighted to host the quarterly gathering of the Southern Unitarian Association.  At Burley Village Hall, nearby in the New Forest, we held a worship service and a drumming workshop for people who came from far and wide to be with us.  

The service was a flower communion, and it started with a Jewish anthem calling people to praise.  Everyone brought themselves to the circle of worship with a flower, which early on in the service was placed in a vase on the centre table.  We had words of gathering from Rev Andy Pakula and lit the Unitarian chalice candle while singing to a recorded chant by David Kent.  Our scripture for the day was from the Isha Upanishad v 1-6, speaking of the fullness of reality, the nearness of the ultimate reality, and the unity of reality.

We were reminded that our heritage as Unitarians means that we recognise there is no single, complete, entire, correct way to God.  The variety of the flowers in the centre was used as a metaphor for that.  And the meditation on the Names, shown elsewhere on this blog, was read aloud.

After some minutes of silence to listen to what was in our hearts, we had some readings.  The first was a piece by Rowan Williams on the need for stability, combined with the gifts of many different talents, if a church is to do the work of God.  The second was a poem (translator unknown) by Rainer Maria Rilke, suggesting the words God speaks to each of us as we are made.  We heard the song “Love, Serve and Remember” written and sung by John Astin, which is based on eastern teachings. (For more on John Astin and his associates see http://www.integrativearts.com )

We were invited to discuss with the person next to us our personal style of activism in the world, using the parable “Six Monks” (see here https://www.patheos.com/blogs/fieldnotesonliving/2019/04/29/the-six-monks/  )

Then we turned our minds to what the Southern Unitarian Association is - an association of congregations. So the SUA is nothing if there are no congregations.  We heard, responded to and reflected on the hopes, wishes and dreams for the SUA listed by those who were at the preceding SUA gathering.  And we were challenged by the following questions:

Why do we keep coming here?

Why do we keep going to our congregation’s gatherings

 and services?

Is it because we hope?

Is it because we get satisfaction? - if so, how and why

Is it because we get purpose?

Is it because we get clarity and order? - if so how and why

Is it a running away?

Is it a running towards?

Why do we keep coming?

Think about these questions yourself

Take them back to your congregations

Ask the same questions there

Only by sharing openly these big questions will we properly connect at a deeper level with each other

Only by sharing openly these big questions will we develop

 our congregations.

The worship closed with a meditation by Rev Tony McNeile, after which everyone collected a flower - a different flower - from the vase in the centre to take away with them.  We finished with a hymn from the green hymn book “Our Kindred Fellowships”.

Between the service and the drumming workshop there was a Climate Emergency lunch, all vegetable based, which was much enjoyed by all, whether or not they had previously eaten much vegan food.  Some of the food had been bought in from a vegan cafe in Christchurch https://www.goodintentionscafe.co.uk   There was also the opportunity to take a quiz online to assess one’s personal carbon footprint  https://footprint.wwf.org.uk/#/

The drumming workshop was led by Heike from Southbourne, and it fully lived up to its promise.  Getting absorbed in the rhythm, we found we really did stop using our thinking minds and instead went back to being creative in some unexpected ways.  Most enjoyable and thoroughly recommended. https://www.heikedrumshare.com

People felt they needed to express their appreciation for the day, so a collection was taken for the Ringwood Foodbank.

"Who do I say I am?" - #Unitarians and friends gather again in Ringwood for a contemplative time together in May 2019

The gathering in May was the second time we used the ‘Heart and Soul’ style format, and this time the topic was “Who do I say I am?”

The gathering included the simple “circle” ritual long adopted by our group, as well as spaces for giving thanks, reflecting gently on our own day so far, a period for silent meditation, and offering prayers for others.  There was also some music.

The theme was introduced by our president for the day.  The thrust was that we worry so much about what others may intuit, or interpret about us, and what their judgements might be; when we could just save ourselves and others a lot of trouble by owning our own ‘names’ right from the start.

So we must begin with some soul searching.  After that we need some self-honesty in how we communicate the ‘who’ of ourselves through our words and actions.  Ridding ourselves of self-deceit, if we ourselves are clear who we are and then ‘speak’ it truly, then it makes for a happier us.

Our ‘name’ or ‘names’ don’t need to be a secret for fear they give people power over us: for it is only our fear making them a secret that does that.  For our ‘name’ is our power and our presence in the world.

How do we react when things don't go as we expect - Ringwood #Unitarians Sep 2018

Owing to a conjunction of unlikely circumstances, we weren’t able to meet at the scheduled time last Sunday.  We weren’t able to meet at all.

Which led me to reflect on two ideas: what do we feel and do when things don’t happen as we hope or expect? And why do we meet at all?

At the moment, I’m reading a book by a contemporary buddhist teacher, in which it is suggested that sometimes it’s easier to know what to do when a really drastic thing happens, then when it’s a small thing that doesn’t go as expected.  After all, if a person is physically hurt, you get them to a medic.  When water is pouring out of a burst pipe, you find a plumber.  But when a friend is late for a coffee, or the baker hasn’t reserved your bread order, there are a range of different things that can be done.  That range of choice can itself be paralysing.  And the choice we do make can reveal to us some truth or other about ourselves.

The buddhist teacher reminds me that we shouldn’t measure the quality of our lives through the big, drastic events.  After all, nearly everyone will help others under emergency situations.  Nearly everyone will rise to the need.  Whereas fewer of us react in a consistently graceful manner to the ordinary little grinds of life.  Yet if we can’t negotiate our way successfully, generously, humbly, through the little things that “go wrong” (if indeed that is a truthful way of describing them), then the occasional flash of emergency kindness and compassion, no matter how profound or far reaching, will not compensate.

Integrity, “one-through-ness”, is a quality of the best lives.  People are sterling who can be relied upon, who can be trusted, because they behave in the same style no matter the circumstances or context.  People are loved who don’t succumb to the stress of the moment, thus revealing a different side to themselves.  People who have integrity are able to live consistently owing to the hard work they put in, even when out of sight, to not being upset whatever comes, be it trivial, small or large.

And so we, who were affected by the non-meeting last Sunday, reflected on how we reacted when it became apparent that our gathering last Sunday was not to take place after all.

And, then, why were we to meet at all?  Why des anyone go to any kind of church these days?  I have just read the conclusions of some recent research by the United Reformed Church (a Christian church).  The research found that most non-Christians (61%) know a practising Christian.  They like them, and think they are caring, good-humoured and friendly.  A family member of mine, who is atheist and living in Spain, spent some time musing with me about a friend who is conservatively Roman Catholic, and who with his wife takes all the family to Mass every Sunday.  This Spanish chap, whilst being wealthy and positionally powerful in his work, is also one of the most patient and unassuming people.  Do people go to church because they get made good there?  Or, put perhaps more disparagingly, do they go because they get something there that makes them feel good about themselves?  Or is it that there is something helpful in the discipline of entering into a commitment with others, and sticking with it, trying again and again, session by session (not necessarily in a weekly rhythm), whether the point is immediately obvious or not?  If nothing else, surely we get more patient because our personal sharp edges are rubbed off as we roll along together, time after time?

We haven't actually talked about it.  So I can only guess that we each have decided inwardly that something about gathering together does us good.  Something about being with other non-saints.  Something about being with others who get cross-tempered and frustrated, others who get bored and struggle to hide it, others who are exhausted from the week’s labours, others who are fighting a physical pain, others who can find nothing to smile about, others who are having a really good patch, others who are just living a run-of-the-mill un-noteworthy routine.  Somehow the sharing of experiences and resonances; the sight of others coping where we ourselves have not perhaps coped quite so well; the chance to offer some warmth and a smile where someone so clearly lacks them; the simple, repeated, showing-up that we each do for each other; somehow these are the things that sometimes matter most about a community of faith.

Sometimes our faith is in each other alone.  Sometimes our faith is centred on the way of the universe/multiverse.  Sometimes our faith is in a woolly notion, such as a love, a clarity, an order that somehow underpins everything there is or could be.  Sometimes our faith is in the act of exchange that incontrovertibly takes place, without us ever quite understanding what it is or how it happens.  Sometimes our faith is that there is faith at all.

But one way or another, we meet in faith.  We bring ourselves, and we get changed by our gathering.  Even if we cannot say anything more insightful, we meet to express our faith in the internal change we experience.  And we express our faith by being constant, as we try to have that integrity that makes us equally patient, generous, warm, sensible, responsive and yes compassionate, wherever we are, whether we are in other people’s sight or not.

April 2017 meeting for reverence – recognising and staying with suffering, showing respect to others Ringwood #unitarians

Our meeting for reverence this month was held on 9th April, celebrated by western Christians as Palm Sunday.  That’s the day when it is remembered that Jesus of Nazareth was celebrated and welcomed as potentially the leader of a new order as he arrived in Jerusalem, prior to the most important feast of the Jewish year, the Passover.  In Judea at the time many were asking questions over the just exercise of power, and the right to self-determination.  Questions which should not go away and which must continue to be asked, as lessons from even recent history are gradually forgotten.  It was thought that Jesus was going to confront ruling interests with these questions.

Over a number of our gatherings recently we have been expressing our concern and dismay at the turmoil caused by dissension, division, disagreement, conflict and war all around the globe at the moment.  And that is on top of what could be thought of as the ordinary sadnesses, chaos and upsets experienced in domestic and family settings.

It would be possible to feel, and act, as if powerless under these circumstances.  Rather, in this meeting, we exercised our option to face it, square on.

We reflected on staying in the discomfort of recognising suffering, showing respect to others by acknowledging it.  Unusually for us, both our readings came from the Christian heritage; specifically, the Gospel of Mark.  The first was the section on the triumphant entry into Jerusalem, and the the second was on the subsequent agony in the garden of Gethsemane. 

"The key to meditation is learning to stay."

After our period of silent meditation, a practice which figures in many world faith traditions, we sang hymns of peaceful resistance (“Kum-ba-yah,” and “We will overcome, some day”). 

December 2016 meeting for reverence joins us together in recognizing the art of grief #unitarians

With the slow cold of winter starting to set in, and the long darkness growing, death and passing are natural reflections at this time.  For some in our little community these are very real experiences right now, so this month we took readings and shared space around the topic of "Grief - there is no 'ought' to feeling."

The service was opened with a prayer titled ‘Hunted’ by our own Lucy Harris from the book Through the Prism.  It was especially poignant lighting the chalice candle, as an act of drawing close as a community, in a month when distance and commitments are keeping us apart.

Our readings were W H Auden's 'Stop all the Clocks', and Don Jon's speech from Act 1 Scene 3 of ‘Much Ado About Nothing’.  Both run the gamut of emotions at a time of loss.  Some gentle and edifying, some wild and raging; but all sincere, all honest, all valid.

 

Between the readings we took a reflection on the ‘Beginning of Winter’ from A Pagan Ritual Prayer Book by Ceisiwr Serith.  It ended with the poignant line 'teach...who has only fought for what I love'.

Our shared reflection was about not always comforting, not always counselling, sometimes just being there and sitting by, while we feel what we need to feel, whatever that is, for now.  It was time well spent and I know I speak for everyone in our little community when I say our thoughts are with those for whom this is a difficult time.

What we did (1) in Aug 2016 Ringwood #unitarians

All real living is meeting, said Martin Buber.  Just how many people need to be there, for meeting to happen?  Where two or three are gathered together in my name, said Jesus, there I am amongst them.  When reading a book, there are always at least two people meeting in relationship – the author and the reader – but also all the people who have contributed to the setting down of, or the re-interpretation of, the narrative.  And, if but one human stands on a cliff top, feet in the heather and springy turf, watching the sun set behind piled-up clouds, terns and black-headed gulls wheeling by, with the sea crashing its brilliant white surf down below, what meeting is it that is going on there? – for meeting there most certainly is.

So we had a sparse meeting in August, summer season, with absences and work commitments getting in the way of a bigger meeting; yet meet we did.  The topic was the stories we tell ourselves and about ourselves, as part of who we are and how we know ourselves.  We had texts from Tolkien and Alan Garner and we spent time in silent reflection; and felt all the better for it.

March 2016 meeting for reverence

On Sunday our meeting for reverence was led by a visitor – the Unitarian District Minister for London and the South East of England, Rev Martin Whitell.  Martin had already conducted two Unitarian weddings at the Ringwood Meeting House but this was the first time he had come to lead our regular meeting for reverence.

He took as his theme “The Sounds of Silence.”

Our gathering followed our usual format, starting with a simple ritual.  Our silent ritual can be interpreted in a variety of ways, since we each place meaning on it privately.  For instance, one interpretation might be that it honours the four fundamental elements fire, earth, water, air.  Another interpretation might see the same ritual as reminding us of “light of spirit or soul connecting us”, “bread of life given for us”, “water of life moving through us”, “breath of life inspiring us”.  But there are as many different meanings as there are people taking part, because as Unitarians we do not impose doctrine (religious theory or explanations) on anyone.

Included in the meeting were a mixture of readings, silence and music, both for listening to and for joining in with.  There was “Songs without Words” (Op 38 no 6) by Felix Mendelssohn.  There was also a piece performed by the Dunblane Cathedral handbell ringers.  Two hymns from the most recent Unitarian hymnbook were sung and then Martin reflected on the role of quietness in our finding our way in life.  The Simon and Garfunkel song “Sounds of Silence” gave more food for thought.  The texts of the hymns and readings explored the religious experience of realising in quiet times things that are not easy to put into words but that underpin life choices and changes.

Also as usual, we lit candles as we shared our current joys and concerns.  This part of the meeting sometimes has many words out loud, and sometimes almost none at all.  Yet it is always one of the most moving parts of our time together.

These are some of the words that were used during our meeting:

We listen too much to the telephone and we listen too little to nature.  The wind is one of my sounds.  A lonely sound, perhaps, but soothing….

As a matter of fact, one of the greatest sounds of them all — and to me it is a sound — is utter, complete silence. 

André Kostelanetz (1901–1980) Russian conductor

And the people bowed and prayed

To the neon god they made

And the sign flashed out its warning

In the words that it was forming

And the sign said “The words of the prophets

Are written on subway walls

And tenement halls

And whispered in the sounds of silence.”

© 1964 Words by Paul Simon

True silence is the rest of the mind;

it is to the spirit what sleep is to the body – nourishment and refreshment. 

William Penn (1644–1718)

  

You can hear the footsteps of God

when silence reigns in the mind. 

Sri Sathya Sai Baba (1926–2011)

Indian guru and philanthropist

Let us be silent,

that we may hear the whispers of the gods.

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882) Transcendentalist

September 2015 meeting for reverence

The meeting for reverence followed our usual format.  We do not have a minister associated with our congregation; instead one of us as a lay person presides for each meeting.  It’s rather lovely to be able to use an apposite but rarely used word for this role: we use the word “president” with a lower case “p”.

The president for the day devised the service using texts from the Northern Pagan Tradition, and chants.  The first text was a reflection on the nine worlds, and how each brings its imperfection to make the perfection of the whole. The perfection of the whole is represented by the cosmic ash tree, Yggdrasil, whose roots reach into each of the levels of the nine worlds.

The second text was on the idea of wergild, where we navigate the victories and failures of ourselves and others in a spirit of mutual recompense, knowing we will be either side of it at different times throughout our life.

A lovely coffee morning followed.

November meeting

Last Sunday the theme of the Unitarian worship in Ringwood was in tune with the commemorative mood sweeping the nation at this time – it was taking time, taking our time to reflect.  A quiet service with candles.