Prelude Melodia Africana I by Ludovico Einaudi
Opening Words Summer Solstice by Cliff Reed
Long, long days that fade
imperceptibly into short nights;
The hush descending on countryside and garden
as springtime songbirds fall silent;
Ripening fields of wheat and barley,
whispering of harvest-time to come;
It is midsummer, and our thoughts turn to
holidays and re-creation.
And so we gather, to celebrate the solstice,
the summertime – its warmth, its light, its mysteries, its joys.
Let us join in worship.
Chalice Lighting (you may wish to light a candle in your own home at this point). Words by Yvonne Aburrow
The light is at the height of its power
The Sun shines fiercely.
But now that power must wane
Descending into the darkness
to be reborn.
Light and darkness dance
in the crucible of desire
and bring forth life.
So we light the chalice flame
to represent life, hope, love and laughter.
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 hover.
May we keep in touch however we can,
And help each other, however we may.
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,
Suffering in any way,
Amen
Reading from Summer Solstice: Alban Hefin from The Wheel of the Year by Celia Cartwright
[This is] the time of maximum light – it is known as the Festival of Joy. It is perhaps the most exuberant celebration of the year, and as the countryside revels in its colour and fragrant splendour, so this festival is a celebration of the strength and power of the sun and the richness of the earth.
From the Druid Order’s ceremony we read: ‘Let Unity, Harmony and Beauty be your watchwords. May you abundantly share in the illumination. Be you ready to hear the voice of those crying out for wisdom. Listen at the portals – for the world is large and many are seeking. Open the gates for them, and portal after portal shall open unto you.’
Falling midway between Beltane and Lughnasadh is Alban Hefin, the Summer Solstice, marking the peak of the sun’s influence on Earth. The spiral of the year has expanded to its widest point and now the hours of light are as long as they will ever be. After 21st / 22nd June, the sun’s power will begin to wane and the days grow shorter. The sun has touched the northernmost point along the horizon and is about to embark on the long journey back south, ending at Alban Arthan, the Winter Solstice, in mid-December.
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 from Summer Solstice: Alban Hefin from The Wheel of the Year by Celia Cartwright
The Solstice was an important part of the proto-Druids of the New Stone Age (Neolithic), who built the magnificent megaliths aligned to the Solstices – Stonehenge, Avebury, The Ring of Brodgar, and many, many more, not all in stone, for traces of wooden henges have been found too. Henges were built in abundance from the far north, in Shetland, in Orkney, through Britain to its southern fringes. In Southwestern England, an unbroken thread of tradition connects the 5,000 year old temple at Stonehenge with ritual activities throughout the Bronze Age, the Iron Age (the time period in which Jesus walked the earth), and into modern times.
Throughout Britain and Ireland, this moment of the triumph of the light, and yet also the beginning of its decline, was celebrated with great bonfires when the whole community gathered once again on the hilltops to celebrate life through feasting, dance, ritual and song, to rejoice in the sun at the height of its power – and perhaps also to pray that it not die too soon. (A poor summer meant a poor harvest – and this could mean death in winter due to starvation). Folk customs of this celebration are to be found the length and breadth of Britain and Ireland, some of which remain.
Held on the 23rd June, as the last glimmers of the setting sun strike the heather and gorse of the now still Cornish Moors, orange glimmers of light flicker; fire beacons blaze forth from hilltops stretching the length of Cornwall from Land’s End in the far South West across the Moors to Kit Hill on the Cornwall Devon border. These bonfires are a celebration of the Summer, with the sun at its strongest, and are lit the night after the Summer Solstice.
Prayer Peace in the Summertime by Cliff Reed
God of summer,
whose gifts are sunshine
to brighten our lives, and
storms to keep them green,
we turn to you in gratitude
for this season.
Help us to relax
and make the most of its warmth and beauty;
to store away the memories of summer that
help sustain us through winters yet to come.
We are grateful
for times and places to enjoy ourselves –
parks and gardens, beaches and swimming-pools,
mountains and woodlands – whether we seek peace
and solitude or good company and noisier pursuits!
Help us to let go of our frantic busy-ness
and find peace in the summertime.
Amen
Reading from Summer Solstice: Alban Hefin from The Wheel of the Year by Celia Cartwright
On this night in County Limerick, Ireland, people processed up the hill of the faery queen Aine, whose name means ‘Brightness’ and who was probably once a goddess of the sun. They set light to bunches of straw and hay called cliars that they waved among the fields and grazing cattle to ensure good crops and healthy beasts… there is more to this tale but the extract is sufficient to echo the Cornish sense of bringing healing, or the hope of, as a major part of the mid-summer ceremony.
Midsummer was, in Wales, considered the best time to gather magical and healing herbs. Fern seed was thought to bring invisibility; elderberries warded off enchantment; stonecrop, vervain and yarrow were hung in special places around the house for protection. Above all it was a time to pluck St John’s Wort, the golden, star-shaped flower that was the first of all herbs to be gathered on St John’s Eve. Called the ‘Blessed plant’ in Wales, it was renowned through Celtic lands for bringing peace and prosperity to the house, health to animals and a bountiful harvest. It was cast onto midsummer bonfires in Scotland, and placed over the doors of houses and farm buildings for its protective powers. For these magical plants were filled with the energy of the sun at its peak, now transformed into green blessings for the human realm.
Christianity chose June 23rd as St John’s Eve, dedicated to St John the Baptist, the prophet born six months before Jesus. I find it interesting that St John’s Wort is a renowned herbal relief for sadness and depression.
Time of Stillness and Reflection words by Celia Cartwright (adapted)
This day is warm,
the air is still.
Gone is the threat
of thunder and rain.
This day requires
a slowing down,
a letting go,
of “musts” and “shoulds” and
“oughts”.
This day is a day
simply
to Be.
Today is a day
to open doors
to open windows
to welcome in
the wide blue sky
and golden sun
and Be.
This is time to recline
to ponder the grand questions
of life and love
and sip
on something cool.
Words like languid
were made
for days like this.
[silence]
Too soon
the summer’s
glory will be gone.
Don’t waste it.
Musical Interlude Melodia Africana III by Ludovico Einaudi
Address Summer Solstice
This weekend, Pagans, and many other people, will be celebrating the Summer Solstice, at Stonehenge and other sacred sites – that time of the year when the sun is longest in the sky and the nights are shortest. From now on, it’s all downhill until Christmas. (sorry!)
The old name of the Summer Solstice is Alban Hefin. It falls midway between Beltane and Lughnasadh (or Lammas) in the Pagan calendar and marks the peak of the sun’s influence on the earth. It is the most joyful celebration of the Pagan year. As Celia Cartwright explained in our first reading, “It is known as the Festival of Joy. It is perhaps the most exuberant celebration of the year, and as the countryside revels in its colour and fragrant splendour, so this festival is a celebration of the strength and power of the sun and the richness of the earth.”
And as both Celia and Cliff Reed point out, this time of year is for relaxation, for slowing down, for letting go of our busy-ness. Instead, we should concentrate on Simply Being, and enjoy the fine weather while it lasts.
Perhaps it is difficult for us to understand how important this time was to our ancient ancestors, living as we do in a world in which we can buy any vegetable, any fruit, throughout the year: as Cliff Reed once wrote, “We live too far apart from the turning seasons, / the earth’s rhythm and nature’s lessons. / We forget our dependence on the plenty / that we take for granted – few of us plant the seeds, / watch growth and ripening, reap the harvest.”
But in those times, the ancients celebrated the time of the triumph of the light with great bonfires, when the whole community would gather on the hilltops to celebrate life through feasting, dance, ritual and song, rejoicing in the sun at the height of its power. And perhaps also to pray that it would not decline too soon, because a poor summer meant a poor harvest, which in turn could lead to starvation in the long cold winter months.
And yet, the urge to celebrate the middle of summer still lingers. When I was a small child at primary school, we learned that beautiful Middle English round, Sumer is icumen in. Walking through the woods the other morning, I found myself singing the first few lines:
“Sumer is icumen in
Lhude sing cuccu
Groweth seed
and bloweth mead
and spring the woods anew
Sing cuccu
Ewe now bleateth after lamb
Loweth after calf the cu”
Because it summed up how I was feeling. For the past few weeks, I have been entranced by the sound of a cuckoo in Salcey Forest. I walk in there most mornings of the year. We are so very blessed to live where we do, five minutes’ walk from the edge of the Forest. At the time I went out – at eight in the morning – I had the place pretty much to myself, apart from the birds, who were filling the air with their song, and I was filled with wonder at the beauties of God’s creation. The cow parsley still lines the path, its heady scent filling my nostrils, and there are dandelions and buttercups, pink and white clover as well as the ubiquitous nettles. Also some gorgeous pink and white wild roses. And of course, the trees themselves. Too many shades of green to name. I recalled the passage in JRR Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, when Merry and Pippin first meet the Ents: “The Ents were as different from one another as trees from trees: some as different as one tree is from another of the same name but quite different growth and history; and some as different as one tree-kind from another, as birch from beech, oak from fir.”
I think that at this time of the year, I am moved by the beauty of the world around me and my heart goes to poetry, to express the joy I feel. I try to be aware of the sacred beauty all around me, at all times of the year – the myriad new greens of Spring, the gold, copper, orange, burgundy, and bronze of Autumn and the soft whites and greys of winter. But there is something about Summer which is extra specially vivid, extra specially alive.
A while ago, somebody asked me, “What makes you come alive?” and I have been thinking about the answers ever since. My first response was that it is interaction with the natural world – walking by the sea or in the mountains, making a garden, walking a regular route and noticing the day to day changes in the nature around me, being awed by natural beauty – all these play an important part in reconnecting me with the numinous presence of God, with making me “come alive”. To which I would add, interacting with family, friends and fellow Unitarians and f/Friendly Quakers – being in spiritual community.
An appreciation of our world in its beauty and diversity is definitely something that makes me come alive. When I go for a walk, it is wonderful to be out in the changing seasons – to see and savour and appreciate the blossom in Spring, the mass of wildflowers in Summer, the first conkers and the changing leaves in Autumn and the elegant spareness of the trees in Winter. This connectedness with the natural world is something I have learned to nurture and treasure. It so often gets lost in Western society – we are so busy doing the job in hand, rushing to the next appointment, the next Zoom meeting, that we don’t take time out to appreciate the world around us. A regular walk in Salcey Forest has been a boon and a blessing for me since we moved here, twenty seven years ago – a time of sacred awe and wonder. Each tree, each flower, that I notice is unique. No tree or flower quite like it has ever grown before, nor will ever grow again. And that is surely an occasion for awe and thanksgiving.
Of all the flowers, roses, for me, epitomise the essence of Summer. I was looking on the internet for a story about roses to share with you, and came across this lovely reflection by Connie Faust:
“One of my very favourite flowers is the rose, but I never had much practical knowledge about roses until I began to look for some “rosy” thoughts to share. I learned that Columbus discovered America because of a rose. On October 11, 1492, in the Sargasso Sea, one of Columbus’ crewmen picked a rose branch from the water. This sign of land renewed their hope for survival and gave them the courage to continue their journey.
According to one legend, the rose was born from a smile of Cupid, but we know it is one of God’s finest gifts to humanity. Its combination of beauty and fragrance are seldom surpassed by any other bloom. A rose has been fashioned by God, who was not content with making one kind of flower. No, God, in His amazing creativity, has made probably thousands of varieties of flowers, each one unique.”
Faust’s words made me stop and think about the qualities that roses have – their silken beauty – have you ever kissed a rose petal and felt how soft it is? Their heady fragrance – I love the old-fashioned roses, which smell so very sweet. My mother used to nurture a rose bed in the corner of our front garden, and when I was small I used to love to get in amongst the rose bushes, smelling my way round the different colours. Even now, when I walk around the village rather than up into the Forest, I go past one particular garden, in which there are a variety of roses spilling over the garden fence, and cannot resist the temptation of smelling my way along the line.
Faust continues, “I’m thinking of you as roses today, each one beautiful in your own way. Some are sweet and fresh little rosebuds; some in the full bloom of maturity; and some of you may even feel as though you are wilting today. Like the rose, you have been created by God, made to fulfil a special purpose. You are much more precious to your Creator than any rose. And He knows and understands each and every one He has made.”
“I’m thinking of you as roses today, each one beautiful in your own way.” May we nurture each other as God nurtures the roses and all the rest of creation and rejoice in each other’s company. Amen
Closing Words by Mark Hutchinson (adapted)
May this moment hold us in gratitude
May our breath be an expression of thanks
May the risen sun be a guidance
May a togetherness take root at the core of our being
May a lovingness be everything we are finally seeing
May Solstice Blessings be the forever opening heart we are all invited to be.
Postlude Melodia Africana II by Ludovico Einaudi