Prelude Roots and Wings by Elizabeth Harley
Opening Words by Stephanie Bisby
Prayer is woven into the fabric of all things,
so we gather, not to form a prayer,
but to give space for our hearts to offer the prayers
which form in us in every moment of our lives:
when we are alone, with time for contemplation;
when we are together with our loved ones;
and when our thoughts find their way to those
from whom we are separated by distance or loss.
We gather to acknowledge and make room
for the core of silence which breathes beyond our words,
and to hear the voice of our hearts, souls or spirits.
Chalice Lighting (you may wish to light a candle in your own home at this point).
words by Cliff Reed
We light this chalice
to bring light to our minds,
wisdom to our souls, and
warmth to our hearts:
light to show us the Way,
wisdom to walk it truly,
warmth to enfold our fellow
pilgrims with compassion.
Opening Prayer
Spirit of Life and Love,
be with us as we gather for worship,
each in our own place.
Help us to feel a sense of community,
even though we are physically apart.
Help us to care for each other,
in this world in which Covid has not yet gone away,
and the clouds of war and climate change overshadow us.
May we keep in touch however we can,
and help each other, however we may.
May we remember that
caution is still needed,
that close contact is still unwise.
Help us to be grateful for the freedoms we have
and to respect the wishes of others.
May we hold in our hearts all those
who are grieving, lost, alone,
victims of violence and war,
suffering in any way, Amen
Reading A Lever and a Place to Stand, Part 1, by Richard Rohr, 12th January 2024
Give me a place to stand, and I will move the whole earth with a lever.
—Archimedes
Archimedes, a third-century BCE Greek philosopher and mathematician, noticed that a lever balanced in the correct place, on the correct fulcrum, could move proportionally much greater weights than the force actually applied. He calculated that if the lever stretched far enough and the fulcrum point remained fixed close to Earth, even a small weight at one end would be able to move the world at the other.
The fixed point is our place to stand. It is a contemplative stance: steady, centered, poised, and rooted. To be contemplative, we have to have a slight distance from the world to allow time for withdrawal from business as usual, for contemplation, for going into what Jesus calls our “private room” (Matthew 6:6). However, we have to remain quite close to the world at the same time, loving it, feeling its pain and its joy as our pain and our joy. Otherwise, our distance can become a form of escapism.
True contemplation, the great teachers say, is really quite down to earth and practical, and doesn’t require life in a monastery. It is, however, an utterly different way of receiving the moment, and therefore all of life. In order to have the capacity to “move the world,” we need some distancing and detachment from the diversionary nature and delusions of mass culture and the false self. Contemplation builds on the hard bottom of reality—as it is—without ideology, denial, or fantasy.
Alternative Lord’s Prayer
Spirit of Life and Love, here and everywhere,
may we be aware of your presence in our lives.
May our world be blessed.
May our daily needs be met,
and may our shortcomings be forgiven,
as we forgive those of others.
Give us the strength to resist wrong-doing,
the inspiration and guidance to do right,
and the wisdom to know the difference.
We are your hands in the world; help us to grow.
May we have compassion for all living beings,
and receive whatever life brings,
with courage and trust. Amen
Reading A Lever and a Place to Stand, Part 2, by Richard Rohr, 12th January 2024
Unfortunately, many of us don’t have a fixed place to stand, a fulcrum of critical distance, and thus we cannot find our levers, or true “delivery systems,” as Bill Plotkin calls them, by which to move our world. We do not have the steadiness of spiritual practice to keep our sight keen and alive. Those who have plenty of opportunities for spiritual practice—for example, those in monasteries—often don’t have an access point beyond religion itself from which to speak or to serve much of our world. We need a delivery system in the world to provide the capacity for building bridges and connecting the dots of life.
Some degree of inner experience is necessary for true spiritual authority, but we need some form of outer validation, too. We need to be taken seriously as competent and committed individuals and not just “inner” people. Could this perhaps be what Jesus means by being both “wise as serpents and innocent as doves” (Matthew 10:16)? God offers us quiet, contemplative eyes; God also calls us to prophetic and critical involvement in the pain and sufferings of our world—both at the same time. This is so obvious in the life and ministry of Jesus that I wonder why it has not been taught as an essential part of Christianity.
Prayer Creative Silence by Vincent B. Silliman (adapted)
Spirit of Life and Love,
There is quiet that is all emptiness; and there is quiet that is life.
There is quiet that is rich with appreciation, with gratitude and with love.
There is quiet that is creative; there is quiet that is full of generous purpose and serene determination.
There is quiet that is the very atmosphere of onward things – of life and growth that shall be in the days and years to come.
There is quiet within the mind, the heart, the spirit – when outside there is no quiet at all.
There is quiet wherein is order, when without there are contention and disorder.
There is quiet that is wisdom, though the noises of misunderstanding and dissensions are loud.
Let us seek quiet now and then – an inward quiet that renews and reinvigorates, glorious quiet, the quiet of serenity, the quiet that confronts with confidence the clamours of our fear:
Quiet whereto we may retire, not to evade responsibility, or whatever of strife may be necessary – quiet that brings increase of strength –
not that the sounds and sights, the enthusiasms and the disappointments of our day are unimportant; but let us seek a quiet aspect of living that is full and intense and real.
Let us seek quiet – blessed quiet that is life and that opens out to more life.
Amen
Reading Contemplative Prayer by Peter J. Roberts, from With Heart and Mind
Very often our experience of prayer may be that of sitting quietly with others whilst a worship leader speaks or reads out his or her form of prayer. That form may include some element of petitionary prayer, if not on behalf of our needs, then for the needs of others; asking some outside power to act as we think to be right. Or it may agnostically avoid the presumption of any real deity and instead consist of a series of aspirations concerning ourselves and our world.
Sitting, listening, perhaps agreeing with the words spoken, or just as likely having reservations about their form or content, our ‘prayer’ becomes limited to that of an exercise in critical comprehension between ourselves and the worship leader. It becomes a closed circuit of human thought and intention.
In contemplative prayer, although forms of words may be used as an aid to quietening the mind, it is essentially an opportunity to close down our mechanical faculties, even our awareness of others being present. Instead we relax ourselves both physically and mentally; we let things go that would otherwise preoccupy us. In such a way we can empty ourselves to make some room for the spirit to move within us and inform us of what we really need to know.
Other than very consciously waiting, listening and sensing, we do not make any call, invoke any presence, or otherwise seek to get in the way. In Soto Zen Buddhism there is the requirement of ‘just sitting’. In contemplative prayer, we need to ‘just listen’.
Time of Stillness and Reflection by Peter J. Roberts, from With Heart and Mind
We have come together in a time of reflection.
So we relax our bodies and our breathing.
Breathe easily, slowly, deeply, and ride the sensation of simply breathing.
We are here and now, letting go of the thoughts that we let preoccupy us so much.
Thinking not of what happened earlier, or of what might happen later, be here, now, in body, mind and spirit – nowhere else.
With relaxed breathing, consciously let all else fall away, and open ourselves to this time of peace and quiet in the silence.
[silence]
Let the silence enter in, and the spirit of holy peace and wisdom will move throughout to heal, to enlighten, to strengthen us.
With every fresh intake of breath, let the spirit enter in to enrich us, physically and mentally.
With every exhalation of breath, let some more of our present tiredness and negativity be dispersed.
[silence]
Blessed be that divine presence which gives us life in a beautiful world and a wondrous universe.
May our brief lives be such as to add to that beauty and wonder, thereby glorifying the Divine Unity that creates, sustains and transforms all being eternally.
So may it be, Amen.
Musical Interlude Clouds by Elizabeth Harley
Address A Lever and a Place to Stand
Living in the hustle and busyness of the 21st century as we do, we (or at least, I) can find it difficult to find (or perhaps more accurately, discover within ourselves) the equivalent of Archimedes “place to stand”. As Richard Rohr explained in his e-mail of 12th January, which I shared as our first and second readings, “The fixed point is our place to stand. It is a contemplative stance: steady, centered, poised, and rooted. To be contemplative, we have to have a slight distance from the world to allow time for withdrawal from business as usual, for contemplation… However, we have to remain quite close to the world at the same time, loving it, feeling its pain and its joy as our pain and our joy.”
Rohr often explains this “place to stand” as the still centre between action and contemplation. Which reminds me of the words of hymn no. 21 in our hymnbook, Sing Your Faith, written by Shirley Erena Murray: “Come and find the quiet centre / in the crowded life we lead, / find the room for hope to enter, / find the space where we are freed: / clear the chaos and the clutter, / clear our eyes, that we can see / all the things that really matter, / be at peace and simply be.”
When we lose our ability to feel grounded, centred, as we often will amid the myriad distractions of the world, it can be useful to remember the words of the Quaker Advice, which reads (in part): “Do you try to set aside times of quiet for openness to the Holy Spirit? All of us need to find a way into silence which allows us to deepen our awareness of the divine and to find the inward source of our strength. Seek to know an inward stillness, even amid the activities of daily life.”
So many spiritual teachers I admire, not least Richard Rohr, speak and write of the importance of stillness and contemplation as the surest way to connect with the divine. They talk of just noticing thoughts as they arise, and letting them go, then returning to the silence. Which many of us find very difficult. Letting go, surrendering, these things do not come naturally to many of us, including me. I sometimes feel like Anne Lamott, who writes in her wonderful book, Help, Thanks, Wow: the Three Essential Prayers, “People… might say jovially, ‘Let go and let God.’ Believe me, if I could, I would, and in the meantime I feel like stabbing you in the forehead.” The first time I read those words, I laughed out loud in rueful recognition.
Yet finding that inner place of stillness, of silence, is so important, if we are to discover our fixed place to stand, which will enable to respond to events and people in a spirit of compassion, rather than one of negativity and fear. Reading Richard Rohr’s post helped me to realise (once again) that many of the pressures in our lives (certainly many of the pressures in my life) are self-inflicted. It is my distracted self who chases after material possessions, who needs to be in control, who perpetually worries about the next thing, who strives after perfection, and who finds it hard to let go of old regrets and grievances. I’m doing it all to myself.
I’m beginning to understand that the starting point for breaking out of all this pressure, for getting away from all this self-inflicted stress, is Just Letting Go. Yet relinquishing control, stepping out of the centre, sitting still and letting nothing happen, are all incredibly difficult for me. And I guess this is true for many of us. It involves trust – trust that things will work out without our help, trust that God has got our backs. And it’s a slow process. But I have found that sitting in silence for a short time each morning is a sure route towards inner peace.
So I was convicted by the words of David Cole, a contemplative who teaches courses about Celtic spirituality, “This practise of creating opportunities for us to simply ‘be’ with God is vital for our inner well-being. We may say ‘but I do not have time to do this, I already have so much to fit in to my day.’ If this is a response you make or have made, ask yourself this question: did you, over the past 48 hours, find a few hours to sleep? Did you, over the past 48 hours, find time to stop and eat? If the answer is yes, then you have been listening to the cries of your body for its needs, and rightly so! But be aware that your soul makes similar cries, to stop and be filled. This is what contemplative spirituality is – creating opportunity for your soul to gain what your body gains through food and sleep – stillness/rest and filling.”
I loved Unitarian minister Peter Roberts description of contemplative prayer, which we heard as our final reading, “In contemplative prayer, although forms of words may be used as an aid to quietening the mind, it is essentially an opportunity to close down our mechanical faculties, even our awareness of others being present. Instead we relax ourselves both physically and mentally; we let things go that would otherwise preoccupy us. In such a way we can empty ourselves to make some room for the spirit to move within us and inform us of what we really need to know.”
Finding the still centre between action and contemplation is not an easy task for most of us. I have heard many Unitarians say that they struggle with the concept of prayer. And I was one of them, until I found a form of praying that suited my mind and heart. There is no wrong way to pray. There is No Wrong Way to Pray. If you take anything away from this service, take that: there is no wrong way to pray.
Abbot John Chapman once wrote, “Pray as you can; don’t try to pray as you can’t.” I found it incredibly liberating to read that. Some of us pray best on our knees or sitting on a meditation bench or cushion; some of us pray best sitting quietly in a chair; some of us pray best when we are outside, communing with nature. I have a lovely little book at home called, Pray your way: your personality and God by Bruce Duncan, Director of Sarum College in Salisbury. At the end of the introduction, he wrote, “In the pilgrimage of prayer, God tends to move us along by going with, and not against, the grain of individual personality type. The more you know yourself, the more you will be free to recognise God’s continual initiatives and respond to them by praying your way through life – that is, making your whole life prayer, and learning to do that as you can, and not as you can’t.”
Each time we stop, and feel awe and wonder about what is before us, what is happening to us, that is prayer. Each time we long with our whole hearts for something to happen (or not to happen), that is prayer. Each time we are filled with gratitude for something good in our live, that is prayer. And each time we are triggered by the words or actions of another to change how we live in the world, that is prayer in action.
So pray as you can, not as you can’t. And never feel guilty or inadequate if the ways of prayer used by others don’t work for you. At my very first Summer School in 2009, I was so fortunate to discover a way of prayer that works for me. One of the spiritual practices we were introduced to was the use of prayer beads. I have used mine ever since, because it works for me. I start with the big Centring bead (which I hold while saying my version of the Lord’s Prayer); four small entering beads; the Naming bead (for naming the sacred and holy in our lives and for giving thanks); five breath beads (each breath in, a Breath of Life, each breath out, a Breath of Love, as my first spiritual director later taught me); the Knowing bead (for giving voice to the broken, wounded, worried places in our souls); five more breath beads; the Listening bead (for being still and open to the Divine); five more breath beads; the Loving bead (for praying for others, holding them in the Light); four closing beads; then back to the Centring bead, which brings me to the end of the practice. I finish by saying my version of an ancient Celtic prayer adapted from the Carmina Gadelica.
Most importantly, this prayer bead practice grounds me for the day: it gives me the place to stand, so that I can attempt to use the lever of my words and actions to change the world for the better. May we all be able to find a way into the quiet centre of our lives, “the blessed quiet that is life and that opens out to more life”, as Vincent B. Silliman wrote, where it is possible to dwell in peace and regain some balance in our lives, so that we are able to grow into the best people we can be, and each find our own place to stand, so that we can “move the world”, as Richard Rohr suggests. Because as he writes, “God offers us quiet, contemplative eyes; God also calls us to prophetic and critical involvement in the pain and sufferings of our world—both at the same time.”
It truly does not matter what form our spiritual practice takes, so long as it enables us to be at inner peace, to find our own ‘place to stand’.
May it be so, Amen
Closing Words
Spirit of Life and Love,
May we find the way into the quiet centre
of our lives and dwell there in peace,
so that we are able to find our place to stand,
which will give us the grounded strength
to grow into our best selves and live good lives.
May we return to our everyday world refreshed,
may we share the love we feel,
may we look out for each other,
and may we keep up our hearts,
now and in the days to come,
Amen
Postlude Lady of Lewesdon Hill by Elizabeth Harley