april 20 uufl re-bearth day.docx file · web view04.04.2014 · we come here to stimulate, support...

4/20 Freedom, Easter, Earth Day Michelle, Sarah and David

Announcements: Board Member

Come, Come Whoever You Are

Chalice Lighting quotes:

453: “May the light we now kindleinspire us to use our powersto heal and not to harm,to help and not to hinder,to bless and not to curse,to serve you, Spirit of Freedom.” --Passover Haggadah (kid read this?)

Light chalice

“Freedom is necessary for choice, and choice is necessary for wisdom and growth...the sacred world of love and wisdom, fiery intelligence and passionate will, imagination and delight–is a world of freedom. It is liberating. But it is also binding and connecting.” -David Spangler (adult reader)

April 20 Easter 2014 Happy RebEarth Day 1

Choral AffirmationCome Enter in this meeting houseGive Heart, give Hand, give Love its wayCome hear the challenge of this hourTo call all people to one world.

Mission Statement: We come here to stimulate, support and empower each individual to honestly discover the spiritual, moral, and intellectual qualities necessary to live and act compassionately within the interdependent web of the human family and the environment.”

Sarah: This Sunday we weave together our monthly theme of freedom with the seasonal celebrations of earth’s beauty, re-birth and renewal associated with Easter, Spring, and Earth Day. We celebrate in stories, songs, poetry, and prayers. We begin by inviting all of our sense to waken to this day, this moment with our Hymns #298, Wake Now My Senses, verses 1, 3, 5:

Hymn “Wake Now My Senses” #298?

Freedom Personified-- Read by Michelle and Ally?-by Rev. Tamara Lebak, Assistant Minister, & Kate Starr, Youth Director

Voice 1:Freedom never wears shoes at home.She likes to feel the green grass between her toesor the slick wood floors under the soles of her feet.


She loves to sit alone in the tree house tucked away in a great oak in the woods behind her home.

Voice 2:It is there that she dreams of her next adventure, and remembers her escapades and travels.She can listen to the birds for hours.

Voice 1: As a child, Freedom begged her father to tell the story again of seeing the Statue of Liberty from the deck of the ship when they first arrived in America.It seems to her now that she has come full circlefarming land as her grandparents did before leaving Poland.

Voice 2: As a teenagerFreedom was a wild childand resisted the hard work that defined her parents.She would tell you now she hung out with the wrong crowd.It was Anarchy who taught herhow to put herself at the front lines of just about any protest.


They were always arrested together.Each time, Freedom would regret her lack of boundaries.

Voice 1:Anarchy always took longer to make bailsince no one believed he’d ever pay them back.Eventually, Anarchy stayed behind barsand Freedom found a new way to protest, taking up the pen.She became a journalist and then a writing teacher.It was in a college class on Transcendentalism where Freedom met Democracy and fell in love.Voice 2:She loved that his heart was so big;he loved her rebellious and unpredictable spirit. Freedom lives on Democracy’s family land.It was here that they raised their two children.Freedom has grown to love the rhythmand structure of farm life over the years.Waking at daybreak to the rooster’s crow, eating when she’s hungry,


working till she’s tired, and napping in the middle of the day.

Voice 1:What Freedom initially thought would confine her has actually turned out to deeply enhance her experience of the world.The responsibilities of the animals and the land have become like a walking meditation,reminding her that her boundaries created her identityand that her choices were indeed good ones.

[a few transition words needed here...Sarah]Life is full of choices, and our choices reveal patterns and cycles; some lessons are learned anew by each generation as we explore what it is to be human, to live through the seasons of the earth and the seasons within us, the seasons of our aging and the seasons of our spirits. Join us in Responsive Reading 627, Seasons of the Self:

Responsive Reading#627 “Seasons of the Self”We need a celebration that speaks the Spring-inspired word about life and deathAbout us as we live and die,Through all the cycling seasons, days and years,


We need a sense of deity to crack our own hard, brown December husksAnd push life out of inner tombs and outer pain.Unless we move the seasons of the self, and Spring can come for us,The Winter will go on and on.And Easter will remain a myth, and life will never come again, despite the fact of Spring. –Max A. Coots

[Invite kids to blanket for story] Today we have a special story teller to share the story of a very special bird; won’t you please welcome John Dunegan, of Fort Collins?

Story For All Ages:

Freedom Bird Story—told by John DuneganFrom original teller [In l971 I was on a music tour of the Far East for the U.S. State Department. We spent several days in Chiang Mai, Thailand performing and meeting the people. At this time the Thai people were afraid the Vietnamese were going to overrun their country and everyone was on edge. I heard this simple yet powerful story from a young boy who was our unofficial guide around Chiang Mai. He said, “The story gives us courage.” The song in this tale is a melody the children in Thailand use to taunt one another. Since that time this story has found a life of its own in the storytelling community. I am glad to see it is being told.]

Once a long time ago there was a hunter walking through the woods. Far off in the forest he heard the faint sound of a bird singing a very strange song:


“Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah.”(audience repeats nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah)

The hunter walked and walked until at last he came to a tree with a beautiful golden bird sitting in the top.He said, “Why does such a beautiful bird like you have such an ugly song?”The bird looked down at the hunter and sang:“Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah.”(audience repeats: nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah)The hunter said, “If you don’t stop singing, I’m going to shoot you with my bow and arrow!”The bird just looked down and sang again in a mocking voice:“Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah.”(audience repeats: nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah)The hunter put an arrow in his bow and shot…..and he missed. The golden bird sang again:“Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah.”(audience repeats: nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah.)The hunter put another arrow in his bow and shot again. The arrow went right through the bird’s heart. As the bird began to fall, the hunter rushed under the tree and caught it in his sack. He pulled the sack tight and started to walk home. But from down inside the bag, he heard the muffled singing of the bird:(Storyteller keeps mouth closed and hums)“Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah.”(audience mimics and repeats: nah, nah, nah, nah,nah,nah,nah).


The hunter took the bird home, pulled it out of the sack, put it on the chopping block and plucked all the feathers from it. When he turned around to get a knife to cut the bird up, he heard over on the chopping block:(Teller and audience fold their arms and shiver when they sing this line.)“Brr, brr, brr, brr, brr, brr, brr.”(audience repeats: brr, brr, brr, brr, brr, brr, brr)The hunter took the knife and cut the bird up into a hundred small pieces, and then scraped them into a large pot full of water and put it on the stove to boil. When the water began to boil, he heard from down inside the pot, the bird singing:(Teller and audience make a gurgling type sound when they sing the song.)“Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh.”(audience repeats: Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh, Gurgh)Now the hunter was starting to get mad. He took the pot outside and put it on the ground and found himself a shovel and started to dig a deep, deep hole. When the hole was way over his head, he climbed out and poured all the parts of the bird into the hole and covered it with dirt. And as he turned to go back into the house, he heard from deep down in the ground the bird singing:(Teller and audience sing song with hand over mouth to give muffled sound).“Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah.”(audience repeats: nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah)Now the hunter was furious. He grabbed his shovel and dug up every piece of the bird and put them in a little wooden box, and tied a large


rock across the box with some rope. He went down to the river and threw the box as far as he could out into the water. It splashed and went straight to the bottom. He stood on the bank waiting to hear the sound of the bird. He heard nothing, so he went home. At the bottom of the river, the water loosened the rope around the box. The rock fell off and the box floated to the top of the water. It drifted along the river for three days. On the third day, the box floated by some children who were playing on the banks of the river. They saw this beautiful wooden box passing by and they wanted to know what was in it. They waded into the water and brought the box to shore.When they opened it, out flew a hundred golden birds all singing in a full voice:“Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah.”(audience repeats: nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah)About a year later, the very same hunter was walking through the woods. And far off in the distance, he heard the strange sound of the bird singing. He walked and walked until at last he came to the same tree where he had first seen the strange bird. But this time when he looked up in the tree, instead of seeing one bird, he saw a hundred golden birds. He raised his hands and hollered out, “I know who you are now. You’re the Freedom Bird, for you cannot be killed.”And all the birds looked down and sang to him at the same time:“Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah.”(audience repeats: nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah)

[Applause]


Sarah: I want to invite you consider what it was inside of Freedom Bird

that allowed continual renewal and regeneration in the face of

oppression and destruction. Freedom Bird embodies freedom, from

the inside out, there is some internal quality that the hunter can never

obliterate. This is the quality that allows us to both savor and save the

world. In order to fight for freedom, we must have some sense of what

we are fighting for. Freedom embodied might look like any number of

things—deep abiding love, a connection with the transcendent, a sense

of inner peace and the experience of a peaceful life, the experience of

healing and renewal. I invite you to draw in three deep breaths and

slowly let them go. [breathing/quiet] As you continue to relax in your

seat, I want to invite you to close your eyes and imagine a place or time

or activity that embodies for you a sense of freedom and liberty.

Maybe it is as simple as walking in nature or dancing, or as complex as a

moment when you fought for and won some piece of freedom that was

withheld from you. Maybe it is a special place where you felt safe and


free of worries. Maybe it is the experience of being loved by someone

who accepts you exactly as you are. Be with this vision of freedom and

liberty for a few moments, feeling in your body what freedom feels like.

[90 seconds]

As you return to this room, I want you to consciously hold onto that

sense of freedom –carry it in your body and in your responses to each

other this morning. Maybe it will allow you to sway to music, to call out

hallelujah or to apologize to someone; maybe it will invite you into

action on something you care deeply about; shake it, share it, shout it,

shower it, show it—like Lady Liberty, light a fire that you can hold up

and proclaim your stand for freedom.

We are going to play a song now called Freedom Bird, and I want to

invite the children and anyone else who wants to, to dance, to play

with the fabrics we have here, for just a moment. If you prefer to close

your eyes and imagine yourself as a bird, I invite you to do what ever

your body and spirit invite you to do.


Freedom Bird Song: [ Play recorded song by Sue Young; Invite some embodied play--with being a bird? 2.5 minutes max; fade out]

Freedom Bird, show me the wayI’m ready now, I leave todaySomething inside me longs to roamFar from these walls I call my own Freedom Bird, I know its trueFollow my heart is to follow youUp to the clouds up through the rainTo the clear sky and light of day Freedom Bird you say there’s moreWaiting for me beyond my doorOpen my eyes so I can seeOpen my heart and set me free It’s time now to answer your cryIt’s time now to take to the skyIt’s time now to let my heart fly Freedom Bird show me the wayI’m ready now, I’ll begin todaySomething inside me longs to roamFar from these walls I call my ownI’ll begin todayI’m gonna follow you homeI’m gonna follow you home


I’m gonna follow you homeI’m gonna follow you homeI’m gonna follow you homeI’m gonna follow you home

Candles of Community--invitation from Michelle

Pastoral Prayer: Spirit of life, we give thanks for this community and its

power of healing; for the opportunity to share our joys and to be held

in love when we feel sorrow. In this community we witness the

wholeness of life and feel the breadth of human experience. In our

gratitude we offer ourselves and our resources when and where we

can, sharing with each other and the wider community as we seek a

better way for all to live and thrive. We bring concern for the world

around us, for places and practices that promote brokenness instead of

healing; we offer our time and talent as we try to mend this brokenness

and find solutions. When we feel defeated or tired, we look for

communities of salvation--places like this one where we might find rest

and renewal, love and compassion. It here that the spirit of life is


rekindled again, a flame of inspiration to lighten dark places and expose

truth. In this moment of quiet connection, we breathe in deeply

together, finding one another’s heartbeat and heartsong.

[pause]

#628 Rolling Away the Stone (read by Sarah or responsively) as prayer

In the tomb of the soul, we carry secret yearnings, pains, frustrations,

loneliness, fears, regrets, worries.

In the tomb of soul, we take refuge from the world and its heaviness.

In the tomb of the soul, we wrap ourselves in the security of

darkness.

Sometimes this is a comfort. Sometimes it is an escape.

Sometimes it prepares us for experience. Sometimes it insulates us

from life.

Sometimes this tomb-life gives us time to feel the pain of the world

and reach out to heal others. Sometimes it numbs us and locks us up

with our own concerns.

In this season where light and dark balance the day, we seek balance


for ourselves.

Grateful for the darkness that has nourished us, we push away the

stone and invite the light to awaken us to the possibilities within us

and among us--possibilities for new life in ourselves and in our world.

--Sara Moores Campbell

Silence; Comfort Me; Silence

#1069 Ancient Mother x2 (invite drums to be played)

Grandfather’s Prayers

Grandad’s Prayers of the Earth by Douglas Wood

MICHELLE: When I was little, my Grandad was my best friend. Being with him always made the world seem just right. Grandad and I liked to go for walks into the woods together. We didn’t walk very far. Or very fast. Or very straight.

While we walked, I would ask him questions about things I wasn’t sure of. “Why is it Grandad...? I would ask. And “what if...?” and “Does it ever....?” One day I asked my Grandad about prayers.

For a long time, Grandad was quiet. He didn’t say anything until we came to the tallest trees in the forest. And then he answered with a question:


Nick: “Did you know that trees pray?”

SARAH: I listened closely but I couldn’t hear them.

NICK: “See how they reach for the sky. They reach and reach--for clouds and sun and moon and stars. And what else is reaching for heaven but a prayer?

MICHELLE: I thought about the trees and kept listening for them, and while I thought I sat down on an old, mossy rock.

NICK: “Rocks pray too. Pebbles and boulders and old weathered hills. They are still and silent, and those are two important ways to pray.”

MICHELLE: I thought hard about the rocks. I picked up a pebble and stuck it my pocket. We walked a little farther and came to a small stream. The water splashed and sparkled, and the tiny fish hovered in the shadows. “Do streams pray,too Grandad?” I asked.

NICK: “Streams pray, too, and lakes and rivers and water of all kinds. Sometimes they pray silently, like the rocks. They lie still and calm, reflecting clouds or birds or or sunsets or the first evening star. Sometimes they pray with movement, flowing across the earth, giving themselves to the ocean, giving themselves to the sky, and beginning their journey all over again. Sometimes they pray with laughter, chuckling to their friends and the rocks, and sometimes they pray by dancing, leaping into the air and falling back again. These are all ways


to pray, but there are more. The tall grass prays as it waves its arms beneath the sky, and flowers pray as they breathe their sweetness into the air. The wind prays as it whispers and moans and sighs. It is saying a prayer and singing a hymn at the same time. A bird prays when it sings the first song of the morning, and it prays in that silent moment just before it sings. And the robin’s last song at sundown is an evening prayer. All beings of the world pray, as they slip through the forest or sparkle in the water...as they climb mountainsides or soar into clouds or burrow into the earth. Each living thing gives its life to the beauty of all life, and that gift is its prayer.”

MICHELLE: Then we were quiet, my Grandad and I. He was watching something far away, and i was thinking about all he had said, about rocks, and trees and grass and birds and flowers. Finally I asked him to tell me about the prayers of people. He smiled and ruffled my hair:

NICK: “People pray some of the most wonderful prayers of all! Bending to smell a flower can be a prayer. Quietly watching the sunrise, feeling the slow turning of the earth, and saying hello to a new day is one of the oldest prayers. Standing in a snowy woods on a winter day and watching your breath become part of the breath of the world is a way to pray. Making music or painting a picture can be prayer. HOlding hands around the table with family and friends, remembering all that holds us together and giving thanks is one of the greatest prayers. Sometimes, people pray when they are sad or sick or lonely, or have a problem too big to carry by themselves. They may say words they have learned from their fathers or mothers or Grandad or great-grandmothers. But often they must find their own words. The


important thing to remember is that words will always be right if they are real and true and come from the heart.”

MICHELLE: We had walked far enough and Grandad said it was time to go back, but I had one last question. “Are our prayers answered Grandad?” I asked. Grandad smiled.

NICK: “Most prayers are not really questions. And if we listen very closely, a prayer is often its own answer. Like the trees and winds and waters, we pray because we are here--not to change the world, but to change ourselves. Because it is when we change ourselves...that world is changed.”

MICHELLE: My Grandad and I went for many walks after that one, and I listened for the prayers of the earth, but I was never sure I heard them. The one day, my Grandad was gone. And no matter how hard I prayed, he didn’t come back. He couldn’t come back. I prayed and prayed until I couldn’t pray anymore. And so I didn’t, for a long time. And the world seemed dark and lonely without my Grandad in it. Until one day I went for a walk. I found a big rock under some tall trees and sat down on it. Overhead the branches swayed and a breeze whispered in the leaves. I heard a stream flowing nearby, and a robin singing from a honeysuckle bush. And I heard something else, too--something in the sounds of the breezes and birds and water. I heard prayers. The earth was praying just like my Grandad said. So I joined in. “Thank you, for tall trees and sweet flowers, for still rocks and singing birds and especially...for my Grandad. And as I prayed, something changed, and my Grandad seemed somehow near. And for the first time in a long time, the world


seemed just right. * Music/Hymn Return Again #1011

#551 Earth Teach Me, Responsive Reading

OFFERTORY Choir Music?

Closing Hymn #61 Lo The Earth

Extinguish Chalice

BENEDICTION I close this time together with these words from Rev. Victoria Weinstein:

“Being the Resurrection”

The stone has got to be rolled back from the tomb again and again every year.Roll up your sleeves. He is not coming back, you know.He is not coming back unless it is we who rise for himWe who lay healing hands on the reviled and rejected like he didon his behalf --We who rage for righteousness in his insistent voiceWe who love the sinner, even knowing that "the sinner" is no farther off than our own heartbeat He will not be back to join us at the table


To share God's extravagant banquetGod's love feast, all are invited, come as you areAnd so it is you and I who must feast for himMust say the grace and break the bread and pass it to the leftand dish up the broiled fish (or pour the wine) and pass it to the right.And treat each one so tenderlyas though just this morning she or he made the personal effortto make it back from heaven, or from hellbut certainly from deathto be by our side. Because if by some miracle (and why not a miracle?)He did come backWouldn't he want to see us like this?Wouldn't it be a miracle to live for just one daySo that if he did, by some amazing featcome riding into townHe could take a look around and say"This is what I meant!" And we could sayit took us a long time...but we finally figured it out. Oh, let us live to make it so. You are the resurrection and the life. [Blessed be, go in peace ]


Shalom Circle

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april 20 uufl re-bearth day.docx file · web view04.04.2014 · we come here to stimulate, support...

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