Opening Hymn #299 Make Channels for the Streams of Love
Words: From Richard Chenevix Trench, 1807-1886
Music: American folk melody, arr. by Annabel Morris Buchanan, 1889-1983, © 1938, renewed 1966 J. Fischer & Bros. Co., harmony by Charles H. Webb, 1933- , © 1989 J. Fischer & Bros. Co.
Tune LAND OF REST

Michael Tacy (15 August, 2020)

Sermon – Friendship Recession – Rev. Rod

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Valentine’s Day is nearly upon us, and it is customary in our Canadian culture to highlight romantic relationships around this time.  Some of you may be planning a special dinner with a partner, or perhaps a card and gift exchange with them.

And… as if often the case with holidays, there may be some baggage around this holiday, as well.  Perhaps your partner is no longer around, and this time may highlight their absence.  Maybe you haven’t had a partner in while and the emphasis on romantic love brings up feelings of exclusion (I’ve been there before).  Or maybe a previous partnership has left scars or painful memories that don’t seem conducive to celebration.

Is there a way to expand the meaning and focus of this day beyond the romantic dimension?

As it turns out, when I was growing up in Mexico, Valentine’s Day was actually branded Love and Friendship Day (Día del Amor y la Amistad), such that romantic and platonic aspects of love were celebrated, offering a more inclusive holiday.  In some places in Latin America this can include a “secret friends” practice, similar to our “secret Santa” tradition.

I have to say that I originally found it puzzling when that side of the holiday wasn’t as prevalent here, when I first arrived in Canada – though I’ve seen versions of this expanded approach in elementary school and some workspaces, in which card and candy exchanges among peers is sometimes encouraged.

And, while holding friendships may be a more universal and inclusive experience than being in a current partnership, people who study populations have noticed that we may be having fewer friendships than what we used to have.

It seems that, amidst current talk of possible economic recessions, there may be a larger unseen recession going on… a friendship recession.

Last year, the Survey Center on American Life published findings that people currently report having fewer friends than before.

There are many reasons for this.  The pandemic has certainly played a role in how we engage socially, and has complicated the calculations we might make for social interaction.  But the trend goes beyond the past three years.  Curiously, one factor has been identified as “declining religious involvement”.

It has also been observed that one group is particularly vulnerable in the friendship front – men.  And this may be attributed to men being socialized to certain ideals of masculinity that discourage showing affection, or displaying vulnerability.  This may be another illustration that – at least in some respects – patriarchal systems hurt everyone.

Age also seems to come into play, as it seems that adults have a harder time striking up new friendships than children.

As children, and perhaps young adults, we spend time in school settings that might make forming friendships seem like a low-effort enterprise for many of us, as constant exposure to peers of similar age, sharing a similar experience, and perhaps sharing similar life outlooks, offer an environment where nearly any situation might expose you to potential pals.

Later adulthood, however, reveals a different reality, where making new friends often requires additional intentionality, and competing life priorities might easily drown out the importance of finding folks with whom we can find support, share vulnerability, and foster meaningful moments outside of work or home life.

Now, while it may be true that forming adult friendships often calls for some extra effort, it might not be as difficult as we might think.

For my partner and I, one of our newer friendships locally came by through a combination of happenstance as well as a measure of intentionality, and some willingness to take low-level risks.

A few years ago, not long after we arrived in the county, we attended a local agricultural fair.  Dropping by the open-air Sunday service at the fair, I felt that the guest minister had said things that resonated with me and my approach to spirituality and community.  After the service, I saw that he was hanging out near his church’s tent.  After a short contemplation, I thought: “Let’s go say ‘hi’.”

Depending on your own… level of comfort with meeting strangers, this might represent a measure of risk.  It could be an awkward meeting.  Maybe the new acquaintance might have no interest in interacting with you – and this could feel like rejection.  Or perhaps it may simply feel like too much effort, if you’re in a space where you’d rather be on your own.

But, if you’re looking for new connections, the stakes are probably worth it – and in all likelihood, the fears around them may be unfounded to begin with.  You may find that others are more likely to engage than you might expect.

After introducing myself to this colleague from a different tradition, we struck a comfortable conversation.  He and his wife were also fairly new to the area and didn’t mind meeting new people, as it turns out.  We got a dinner invitation on the spot.  This, too, might have represented a level of effort – or perhaps risk – on their part.  Either way, we found it to be worth it, and we continue to make space and time for us to hang out.  A couple weeks ago, the four of us went as a joint team at a trivia night, and we were excited to get to third place, being that we didn’t feel particularly knowledgeable about the subject matter (then again, the award placings weren’t the main point).

I have shared that this year, I’m following a theme of expanding connection and re-connection, and have found that phone contacts with friends and family I haven’t talked to in a while are easier to do than I sometimes lead myself to believe.  There’s sometimes a sense of inertia when you haven’t talked to someone in a while, and eventually, the reason you don’t call them is… because you haven’t called them.  My experience lately, is that they’re usually more than happy to hear from you again.

Here at the church of Olinda, our mission and practice include space for fostering friendship.  The words to our Chalice Lighting invite us to offer fellowship, and call us to one community of warmth and light. 

We see and hear concrete examples of this mission and practice.  We uphold traditions of shared community meals – established and re-emerging.  Some of you get together of your own account, building on your acquaintance from shared time and space in worship (and over the past weeks we have heard some of you sharing celebrations of these encounters).

Some of these manifestations come from the “institutional” dimension of our church, including the work of our Caring Committee, with an established mandate to connect with folks in vulnerable moments or facing prospects of isolation, as well as our Membership Team, who grow links among members and offer opportunities for community-building.  Some manifestations are more organic, as you seek out your own deepening relationships with members and participants. 

My friends, all of these require some level of effort and perhaps risk – and these are usually worth it.  And as we remain mindful of this intentionality, we build upon the wealth of camaraderie that can shield us from the hazards of a friendship recession.

My friends, there is no shame in reaching out and making connections – we need these.  During a holiday time that celebrates love, there is no need to limit the reach of affection to romantic relationships, which represent but one manifestation of special friendship.  And platonic friendships may offer special connection of their own.  Our platonic companions are more than “just” friends (as we sometimes call them), they are gifts of mutual support, havens for shared vulnerability, and sources of meaning-making.  Like any investment, there are some initial costs and require work, and they can be risky, but the rate of return can yield infinite results as they mature.

My friends, in our community of faith, we practice the co-creation of this special wealth, and in our wider communities, we also have opportunities to make valuable investments that can bring us out of a friendship recession.

So may it be,
In the spirit of friendship,
Amen

Copyright © 2023 Rodrigo Emilio Solano-Quesnel

Hymn #18 What Wondrous Love
Words: American folk hymn
~)-| New Words by Connie Campbell Hart, 1929- © 1992 UUA
Melody: Melody from The Southern Harmony, 1835
Tune WONDROUS LOVE

Foothills Unitarian Church

This week, the Canadian Unitarian Council is hosting a National Service. This is an opportunity to see fellow Unitarian Universalists from across Canada!

You’re invited to join the service on Zoom (brief registration with name and e-mail address):

Join National Sunday Service – Covenanting Through Transitions Sunday, February 5 at 1PM

There is also the option to watch the livestream on the Canadian Unitarian Council‘s YouTube channel.

We will resume our regular Sunday morning services (10:30am), with in-person options, next week (Feb. 12).

Glen Jackson

Presentation originally offered on 22 January, 2023

Time for All Ages – “These Go to 11” –

Excerpt from This is Spinal Tap (1984 “rockumentary”)

Video Reading –Take it Down a Notch – John Green | vlogbrothers

Author and vlogger John Green reflects on finding balance in 2023:

Sermon – Down a Notch – Rev. Rod

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Read: [Printable PDF document available for download]

The 1984 mockumentary (or rather “rockumentary”) This is Spinal Tap, features a fictional metal rocker proudly displaying the equipment for his band’s amps, confidently explaining that the notches in regular amps go to 10, but his band’s dials “go to 11”.  The phrase “turning it up to 11” has since entered the popular imagination as a catchy phrase to illustrate taking things to the extreme, going the extra mile, or heading just a bit more beyond the limit – literally giving it 110%.

And pushing our limits is, indeed, one of the ways that we often think of growth.  In fact, we often encourage it in our spiritual communities, as going a bit out of our comfort zones can often offer novel experiences, new points of view and perspectives, and a wider sense of who we are and who we can become individually and as part of a community.

This can mean taking on new tasks or seeking ways to improve what we are already doing.  At our church, that can take the shape of stepping into a volunteer position, like joining a committee (or maybe chairing one), leading a service, offering to host a social gathering (at home or in our building), or helping out with the practical and logistical needs of making a place homey and welcoming.

For many of you this may be an expansion of what you already do.  Or, it could be an entirely new thing altogether, which can be exciting and scary at the same time.  Speaking in front of people can do that for some of us, even more so when there are a lot of moving parts.

At the same time, self-improvement can take a seemingly opposite – but complementary – shape.  Instead of turning it up to 11, it is also a perfectly legitimate option to take it down a notch from time to time.

Setting boundaries, or finding where our limitations are, can also be a practice of personal growth.  Sometimes, the need to take it down a notch may be the result of recognizing that pushing some limits may simply not do us – or others – much good.

Other times, it may be that we find newer limits, which can come from changing life circumstances, health issues, emerging personal needs, or the transforming needs of a community.

There is also the possibility that allowing space for less may open up space for more in other dimensions of our lives, which might have been neglected, or could otherwise use more attention – turning it down a notch so that we may devote 11 where it’s needed more.  As we head into the Lenten season in February, we sometimes explore how having less, or doing less, of something can make space for more of what we might me missing.

Or… in turning it down a notch, we may open up space for someone else to expand their limits – going down to 9 so that someone else may have some room to move into 11.

Perhaps it isn’t so much one’s actions that need turning down, but it’s expectations that could use coming down a notch.  Be these some expectations of oneself, or the expectations we have of others.  Maybe it’s OK if all we can offer is an 8 – or a 7 – and it’s worth remembering this when others aren’t in a position to go to 11… or, maybe they are at 11 but we may be using different scales with different units, an altogether different standard.

The author and vlogger John Green has made it his goal in 2023 to “take it down a notch”.  With many projects on the go, he’s come to recognize that a lot of his life involves turning it up to 11, but he’s seeing that this is not sustainable.  Green is not much older than me, and he may look quite young to many of you, but the truth is that all ages have spots when it might make sense to take it down a notch, even if those spots might come up more often later in life.

Now that I’m in middle age (as I’ve recently been reminded), I too find that there are some areas where I could use turning it down a notch.  It’s become abundantly clear to me that I cannot keep the same lifestyle that I had in my school days (and often that’s probably a good thing).  And many things may be true at the same time – I still find spots where I might do well in turning it up to 11… or at least keeping it at 10.

I mentioned a couple weeks ago that one of my personal themes for this year is deeper connection – or reconnection – with friends and family, so I’m turning my efforts to reach out to them up to 11.  I’ve also found it helpful to be more mindful about some of my expectations, and turning some of these down a notch helps make it easier to be satisfied with others’ efforts, as well as with my own sense of accomplishment.  A little anticippointment can go a long way.

Here at our church, you may have seen that some folks take on a number of roles, and there are good reasons why many of you do.  You may well enjoy these roles, or find them otherwise fulfilling in what you accomplish through them.  You may be well-suited to the task.  And you may also do them with a sense that no one else might take them on if you don’t.

Maybe you’ve been wondering if you can assist on these tasks, or even filling in when someone else is ready for a break.  And perhaps some time and space has opened up for you and you’re ready to take on something that wasn’t as feasible before.  Some of you are already being part of making these kinds of transition happen.

Because that is how a community like ours can run – not just through the efforts of devoted folks who take leadership, but also owing to the spaces made possible by sharing our ministry.  And by recognizing that not all of our expectations from ourselves and the community may be fulfilled at a given time – some may take longer, some may not be realistic at all, or anymore.  Alongside our shared efforts, a measure of grace goes a long way.

My friends, now that January is nearly over, we’ve had a chance to test out our emerging goals and outlooks for the year.  Perhaps you’ve identified a theme that resonates with you as you’ve found something that you want more of in your life… or something you want less of.

Taking it down a notch, my friends, is a legitimate way to take care of oneself, and of others.  And it is also an invitation for those who are thinking of taking 11 out for a spin – or even trying out 9, or 8.

My friends, there are times and there are spaces for pushing the limits, and there are times and spaces for acknowledging limitations.  There also times and spaces to offer ourselves and others a measure of grace.

May we allow ourselves these times and these spaces.

So may it be,
In the spirit of balance,
Amen

Copyright © 2023 Rodrigo Emilio Solano-Quesnel

Closing #94 What Is This Life
Words: William Henry Davies, 1869-1941
Music: A. D. Carden’s Missouri Harmony, 1820
Tune DEVOTION

Community UU Congregation at White Plains

Opening Hymn #353 Golden Breaks the Dawn
Words: v. 1 from the Chinese of T. C. Chao, b. 1888,
trans. by Frank W. Price and Daniel Niles,
~)-| v. 2 by John Andrew Storey, 1935-1997
Music: Hu Te-Ai, b.c. 1900,
~)-| harmony by David Dawson, 1939-
Tune LE P’ING

Unitarian Universalist Society of Laconia NH

Sermon – Special Occasions – Rev. Rod

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The cook and best-selling author Samin Nosrat is perhaps best known for her book Salt Fat Acid Heat – the title refers to four of the basic elements of cooking.  She also hosts the Netflix series of the same name.

When talking about the basic cooking element of fat (which is also an essential nutrient), she spends much time talking about olive oil – which is among the oldest cooking fats, as well as one of the healthiest, not to mention very flavourful.

In a conversation about olive oil with one of her show’s co-hosts, they discuss an anecdote about one of their friends – a bride who received an expensive bottle of exotic olive oil as a wedding gift.  Being that the bottle was so special, the bride sought to extend her enjoyment of it by using it sparingly, bringing it out only for special occasions, such as their wedding anniversary.  Even years after her wedding, the bride would take out the exotic, expensive olive oil and use just a bit of it, saving the rest for the next year.

There’s an endearing element to this ritual, and it has a certain value as a practice to celebrate a special date, marking a special time.

Although… if you know anything about olive oil, you might remark that it doesn’t keep well over time – especially once it’s been opened.  Year after year, this extremely refined olive oil would become increasingly rancid, and it’d eventually be no better – in fact, measurably worse – than any ordinary bargain oil you’d get at the local grocery store.

Anniversary celebrations aside, if the purpose was to enjoy the oil to the fullest extent of what it has to offer, she’d have been better off using it right after it’d been opened, adding it to every meal that called for it.

Now, I have to admit that I see a bit of myself in this story.  And maybe you’ve found yourself in similar situations.  I think of those times when one might have gotten something really special, and followed an instinct to save it – one might even say, hoard it – lest we run out of it too soon and not get to enjoy it in the future.

And I’ve been heartbroken many times, when I’ve finally had to resign myself to throwing out special treats or foods that I’d been saving up for the right time – a special occasion – only for it to be wasted, never to have been enjoyed at all.

Yes, a measure of restraint can be an indication of virtue – having too much of a good thing at one time can be sign of vice.  And practicing some strategic temperament over impulsivity has its place in running a balanced and healthy life.

Yet hoarding, or dawdling on good things, can be a vice of its own, and there are some special things that really do call to be used when you can, regardless of whether or not the situation appears to “measure up” to its particular… specialness. 

In fact, those special things, treats, foods, etc., may be quite helpful in reminding us that the ordinary times can be celebrated as well.  As important as it is to mark and recognize times that are labeled as “special” – be it by tradition, practice, or the stories that come along with them – it may be just as important to remain mindful of the wonder that the present moment offers.  And if we can add a nice treat to it, that might go a long way to enhancing the moment, and help us remember that “ordinary time” is precious in itself.

Now that the new year has begun in earnest (getting to the point where it might feel out of place to greet someone with the phrase “Happy New Year!”), the winter holiday season seems to be officially behind us (we don’t even have the Feast of the Epiphany left to celebrate).  There will be other holidays, minor and major ones – days that might be marked by the calendar manufacturers: Groundhog Day (or Candlemas, if you want to be more traditional); Valentine’s Day (which, like many holidays, may bring its own baggage); Family Day for those in Ontario (a full stat holiday even); eventually some of us might begin some kind of Lenten observance in preparation toward Easter; and so on, among others that could be named.

For now, we’re in the middle of January.  Some of us might recognize World Religion Day today, or prepare to honour Martin Luther King Jr. on Monday, especially if you have a US background or connections there.  But for the most part, the latter part of January (and into February) simply doesn’t seem have the same spirit of celebration that often comes with December.

Last month, I offered affirmation and encouragement around the increased connection that many of you might partake in during the winter holidays, some of it even face-to-face.  Sometimes, having certain special days in the calendar helps us to have a good excuse to get together, or reach out more than we might ordinarily do – it also helps that more people might have more time off, to travel or to set time aside for connecting.

And there’s no reason why some aspects of those practices can’t carry over into this time of the year.  It might not involve the same level of extravagance that some of you might take over holiday times, and there might be less time and space for that anyway, but the spirit of connection need not dwindle away.  If anything, there may be a greater call – and a larger need – to diligently carry it through.

I am aware that many of you already have a practice of regularly checking in with some of your family, friends, or neighbours, maybe weekly or even daily, and that is a practice that can allow you to maintain the specialness of the moments that every day may offer, even if the calendar doesn’t offer an “official” excuse to do so.

Or… maybe that practice has fallen off by the wayside, or you might be wondering about how to start it up in the first place.

I have spoken before about approaching the practice of new year resolutions a little differently.  Rather than taking an attitude of rigid goals or specific tasks, I might instead think of the year as having a theme, and the theme of renewing connection has resonated with me lately.

While staying connected with my support network (or being part of that network for others) is not new to me, I’ve lately felt the need to pay extra attention to that area of my life.  One practice that I’ve found very helpful over the past while is to schedule calls with people in my life that I haven’t connected with as much as I’ve wanted.  Now, long “catch-up” calls may feel daunting, but it can help if we agree to schedule future follow-up calls from the get-go, so that we are comfortable leaving some conversations unfinished.  The calls I’ve been having with my friends and family tend to take about an hour – but there are other options.

The New York Times columnist Jancee Dunn suggests scheduling 8-minute calls, which make it likelier that her potential connections will be inclined to wedge in the check-ins into their schedules, without feeling obligated to stay longer, and encouraging more frequent follow-ups.

I don’t know what might be your magic number, but exploring discrete morsels of time might be one way to make connecting, or re-connecting, a more manageable task (if that’s something you struggle with).

Here, at our church, we have an established (and re-emerging) practice of holding some opportunities for connection, even if there isn’t a particular calendar date to honour (sometimes, it’s precisely because there isn’t a particular date to honour, which in turn offers more space and time).

In a bit over a week, we have an opportunity to be part of our soup fundraiser, and our auction will come up in a couple of months.  Some of you are interested in hosting small-group dinners at your place.  The dates when these happen don’t necessarily hold particular significance – beyond the fact that each of us is setting them in the calendar and intentionally making them special out of our own accord.

My friends, whatever your intentions might be for this year, they don’t need to wait for the calendar to give you an excuse.  Sure, the calendar might sometimes make that easier, but living in “ordinary time” need not be a barrier toward finding special moments.

If anything, my friends, ordinary time may in itself be the perfect reason, the perfect excuse, for seeking out what is special about the here, and the now.

My friends, who knows when the opportunity might pass.  And saving the special moments only for what we expect might be the special occasions might mean that we could miss out entirely, like a bottle of expensive olive oil that has been left out too long.  Now is the time, my friends, for co-creating special occasions.

So may it be,
In the spirit of ordinary connection,
Amen

Copyright © 2023 Rodrigo Emilio Solano-Quesnel

Hymn #77 Seek Not Afar for Beauty
~)-| Words: Minot Judson Savage, 1841-1918
Music: Cyril V. Taylor, b. 1907, © Hope Publishing Co.
Tune COOLINGE

Unitarian Universalists of San Luis Obispo

Opening Hymn #259 We Three Kings of Orient Are
Words & Music: John Henry Hopkins, Jr., 1820-1891
Tune KINGS OF ORIENT

Unitarian Universalist Society of Laconia

Sermon – Links in the Description – Rev. Rod

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As the Christmas season draws to a close, its most recent related holiday was Epiphany, this past Friday Jan. 6 – often called the 12^th Night of Christmas, which is referenced in the song about the partridge on the pear tree.

The word Epiphany itself refers to a divine manifestation – a revelation of sorts.  In the Christmas story, it’s about the divine presence that is contained in an unexpected place – a child in a humble lodging in a dingy town in Judea, a far-off corner of the Roman Empire.

But, as the story goes, those who were ready to look beyond appearances were able to recognize the awesome presence in that child.  As the Epiphany carol We Three Kings of Orient Are suggests, the stargazers from the east followed special signs that led them to make that connection.  A similar thing is said to have happened to many local shepherds, who were prepared to go deeper than the superficial setting of the child’s whereabouts.

There are many unexpected connections we can make – with a bit of extra digging.

A couple Easters ago, I talked about the wonder of allowing oneself to go down unexpected “rabbit holes” – that is to say, letting ourselves follow interesting paths when exploring a topic, or subject of interest, which may often mean we end up in a much different place from where we started, as our initial query may have been transformed.

If, for instance, you’ve ever looked up an article on Wikipedia, and then clicked a link on a related topic, and suddenly found yourself several articles deep, many hours later, you’ll know what I mean.

Of course, these rabbit holes of exciting exploration don’t necessarily need to be on Wikipedia, or even online.  Any stroll down a bookstore or library, including your own bookshelves, may yield similar results.  Even a casual chat with a friend is often bound to take interesting turns, and you might find that the topic at the end of your visit might be very different from where you were, many conversations before, at the beginning of a visit.

Of course, online media has a way to enhance the speed at which these rabbit holes go – and it’s also important to be especially cautious with the content that is available on the internet, since out of the great volume of information we can find on it, much of it is not always reliable.  Finding trustworthy sources, and coming in with a healthy dose of skepticism, can help reduce the risk.  With a bit of caution, we can find fun, interesting, and even transformative material.

Over the past couple of years, we have made much more ample use of online resources at our church.  We occasionally have online resources during our live in-person services, including music, and what I call “video readings”.  Not only are we broadcasting online live, but we also have archived sermons, so you may watch some of the messages of inspiration from more than two years ago.  And these options can go further than you might realize.

You may have noticed that, when I send out the link for the online edition of our services, I don’t just title my e-mail “Sermon”, I call it “Worship Resources”.  I do this quite deliberately, as I often include more than just a transcript of the sermon and a recording of it.

When you click the link in the Worship Resources e-mail, you usually, also have access to recordings of some of the hymns that go along with the topic we explore, and I often also include links to articles or videos that I might not have included in the live service, but which are related to the topic, or may even have been part of my inspiration toward it.

If you watch exclusively on YouTube, without accessing the UU Olinda page, you can also find any links by scrolling down a bit to where it says Show more and clicking there, which expands to offer additional details.  This is what is called the description of the video, and that’s where I may include links to resources for further exploration.

In some of the sermon recordings, you might hear me say “links in the description” – it is this Show more doohickey that I mean by “the description”.  In 2009 the YouTuber Wheezy Waiter called this section for description of details the dooblydoo, an expression that has also caught on among YouTubers.  Whether you look at the “links in the description” or “in the dooblydoo”, the key action is looking at that option to Show More – on offering to find additional connections.

I set up these options in these different ways in order to offer some possibilities beyond the Sunday service.  Whether you attended live, online or in-person, or you access the services later on, you can continue to use these Worship Resources throughout the week, or even months later.

Over the holiday season, I celebrated and encouraged us in our community to seek out new connections, or actively maintain existing ones.  This could mean getting in touch with other people, or perhaps figuring out new ways to foster a better relationship with oneself, especially if the holiday time meant spending more time at home during a snowstorm.

Whether the past holidays meant more cozy time by the fireplace (or perhaps with a streamed version of a fireplace, such as the blockbuster film Fireplace for Your Home), or whether it meant a resurgence of in-person encounters, it may well have meant a change of pace from some of the other, more “regular” times of the year – the “ordinary time”.

Yet, as we begin a new year, amid more “regular” spots in the calendar, it pays off to consider what it means to keep this spirit of connection – or re-connection – into this year.  This includes seeking out new opportunities, some of which may seem hidden or not immediately obvious, but which may be quite close-by – if we invest some effort or intentionality in looking for them… if we decide to take that extra step and look for “Show More”… to explore the “links in the description”.

Some of these may be just a click away – literally scrolling down and being open to go into a new rabbit hole and see what direction a link (a connection) might lead us into.  It may include being open to connecting over new media (with appropriate precautions), or reinitiating our use of more traditional media, such as phone, or post mail – or even getting back into the practice of spending time with each other after the church service… you know, doing more church after “church”.

My friends, the holiday time may offer us a reminder to be intentional in connecting through the colder, darker winter months.  And, just like the spirit of Christmas, that initiative need not be confined to December.

My friends, during the more “regular” times of the year, the spirit of connection may remain with us.  It may look different – our availabilities, energy levels, and needs, will be different in different seasons – but the opportunities to be with each other, and the benefits of exploring reconnection with ourselves and those around us, are still there.

My friends, may the spirit of connection and reconnection carry forward in this new season.

So may it be,
In the spirit of connection,
Amen

Copyright © 2023 Rodrigo Emilio Solano-Quesnel

Closing Hymn #326 Let All the Beauty We Have Known
~)-| Words: Dana McLean Greeley, 1908-1986
Music: English melody, adapt. and harmony by Ralph Vaughan Williams, 1872-1958, © 1931 Oxford University Press
Tune DANBY

Unitarian Universalist Church Utica (30 January, 2021)

Opening Carol #241 In the Bleak Midwinter

Words: Christina Georgina Rossetti, 1830-1894
~)-| New words by John Andrew Storey, 1935-1997
Music: Gustav Theodore Holst, 1874-1934
Tune CRANHAM

First Unitarian Church of Baltimore

Homily – Housewarming – Rev. Rod

Watch:

Read: [Printable PDF document available for download]

I have often spoken about the Mexican holiday tradition of posadas, in which folks in small communities re-enact an interpretation of the Christmas story, wherein Mary and Joseph knock at different doors, looking for lodging, and repeatedly being turned away, all the while, Mary being pregnant and expecting her son Jesus.  The word posada is Spanish for inn.

But some of the keener listeners among you may have noticed that inn is not the word I used when reading out the Christmas lesson today.  Sure, most current translations of Luke 2:7 speak about there being “no room at the inn”, but among the many parts of the Christmas story that raise questions for scholars, the translation of the word inn (for the ancient Greek katalouma) comes up.

Many scholars believe that the word could more accurately be translated as guest room (which is the word I used today).  Households in Bethlehem, like many places in the region at the time, would likely have a guest room, to house relatives or other travelers, and some biblical scholars suggest that the holy family in the story may been staying with their extended family (Bethlehem, after all, would have been a hometown of sorts for Joseph).  In that case, the house would have been more crowded than expected, and they would have had to stay in the lower level of the home, were the animals were also around… not where they would have expected to be, but a warm enough space to bear and shelter a child.

This evening, some of us are not where we expected to be… as our church building was snowed in, our preferred spiritual home is less accessible than usual, some among us may have had travel plans upended this weekend, you may be hosting unexpectedly, or more likely have visitors sending regrets.  Nonetheless, if you are joining us in this space, you are likely to have found a place that is warm enough to shelter you and anyone around you, and to bear witness to this holiday, however you feel the need to observe it.

Whichever your observances, my friends, the realities of this season – as witnessed particularly over the past couple of days – are that our shelter is an important place in which to find a homebase.  And setting it up in the way that makes that stay as pleasant and heartwarming as possible is part of the necessity, and spirit, of the season.

This month, my friends, we have been exploring the call for us to get into the mood for what we might call “hibernation”, and today is a good place to put that into practice.  Be it decking the hall, lighting a fire, watching a show featuring a fire – or any other classic film, or simply putting on a good winter sweater with the right winter food, today is a good place to put the spirit of hibernation into practice.

My friends, it is also a day in which to witness the hardship that many in our community have in being able to hibernate in comfort, and we make it a practice to remember all our community members, near and far, and make efforts to make access for housewarming spaces easier and more accessible, be it with gifts of money, time, or advocacy.  That is also part of the necessity, and spirit, of the season.

And so, my friends, just as we warm each other today with our presence, we may warm our hearts and our homes tonight, and search to warm the hearts and the homes of those around us.

So may it be,
In the Spirit of the Season,
Amen

Copyright © 2020 Rodrigo Emilio Solano-Quesnel

Closing Carol #251 Silent Night, Holy Night

Words: Joseph Mohr, 1792-1848
Music: Franz Xaver Gruber, 1787-1868
Tune STILLE NACHT

Michael Tacy – Joint Choir of Gathering at Northern Heights (Cincinnati) and Heritage UU

Time for All Ages

Fireplace for Your Home | Official Trailer

Netflix

 

Sermon – Hibernation – Rev. Rod

Watch:

Read: [Printable PDF document available for download]

About 14 years ago, George Ford set out to create a heartwarming film that he’d hope would become a holiday classic.  It was the epically-named Fireplace For Your Home.  It was a high-concept idea based on a very simple premise: a full hour of a fireplace burning wood, which anyone could watch from home.

Now, it may surprise you that making that film took him a much longer time than expected – and much greater effort than simply piling a bunch of wood, lighting a match, pressing Record, and rolling in those sweet Netflix royalties.

In fact, if you’ve ever built a fire, you’ll know that even a modest fire takes at least some minimal amount of effort (that’s assuming you already have the fuel around).  If you’re set with fuel, there are still some basic skills at play on how to place the logs, where and how much kindling to put down, and even on how to light the kindling safely and effectively.  And, of course, having a live fire at home requires attentiveness for minimizing flammable hazards, as well the occasional maintenance of the logs, and of the fireplace.

And… if you don’t already have fuel, that’s an effort in itself.  In the Boxing Day carol Good King Wenceslas, a major plot point includes a man in poverty who is gathering winter fuel, putting himself at great risk from the bitter weather.  Such is the effort that goes in building a housewarming fire from scratch.

(And, as we explored last week, we could have a deeper discussion as to what really counts as doing anything from scratch!  But gathering fuel or building a fire is enough effort to consider for today’s purposes.)

In George Ford’s case, the fire he built for his cinematic vision also required extensive planning, as well as literally hundreds of trials.  After all, he wasn’t just planning a fire – for single use by one family unit – but the fire that many households would repeatedly use in homes around the world.  He had to position the logs just right, so that they would fall into themselves, without the need for additional intervention, during an entire hour.

Ford also had to hand-select the logs, that they may be the right shape, size, type, and dryness for that perfect crackling sound, and just the right amount of smoke (enough to appreciate it as part of the fire, but not so much as to drown out the picture).  His wood of choice was Canadian fir, which is his personal favourite for his own household fires.  And he included fire-building skills that he learned from his Canadian mother, living in the Pacific Northwest, where they really did need a lit fireplace to stay warm during the winter.

He wanted to bring at least a sense of that experience to others who couldn’t have it, be it because of lack of a fireplace, or owing to issues with using one, due to accessibility or safety concerns.

And making it accessible was the next challenge he faced, as many networks refused to take him seriously.  Until he reached Netflix, who took him up on the idea and released the first season in 2010.

That first season of Fireplace for Your Home consisted of three full episodes, each one an hour long.  One features the fire with a Christmas soundtrack in the background, another one has the plain crackling fire (with no frills), and a third episode has music that fits other seasons.  In 2015, Ford released an improved Classic version of the Crackling Fire, and in the same year, I was excited to see its long-awaited sequel: the Birchwood Edition.

Fireplace for Your Home now allows you to enjoy some of the soothing benefits of a lit fireplace, without the hazards of building one yourself, or to have access to this meditative heartwarming opportunity, if you don’t happen to have a practical space in which to host your own fire.  And it’s presented in 4K Ultra HD.

Now, maybe having a fire at home was never your thing… perhaps the idea of having your clothes and living room smell like smoked salmon at the end of the night is not your idea of a good time.  Or, maybe you do relish the leftover smoky aroma on your sweater, and the notion of a two-dimensional fire on a screen doesn’t seem like it does justice to the experience… (after all, I know of people who purposely smoke their clothes at summer campfires or by the winter fireplace, for the express purpose of unpacking them later and bringing up that comforting memory).

But each of us has an idea of what would be a heartwarming moment on a season that might otherwise feel cold and dark.  And the fact that George Ford made his Fireplace series, and that Netflix continues to play it 12 years later, shows that enough people find that particular setting soothing.

As George Ford notes in an interview with CBC, “I think it’s this primal need for the safety of fire in a fireplace. For millions of years we’ve cooked on the fire. We used it for safety. We’ve used it for light at night. It’s all about the fireplace.”

I have not trouble sharing that I’ve fired up the Birchwood Edition from time to time, and I even found that the Classic Crackling Fire edition was a fitting background while writing this sermon.  Like Ford, I find that it can offer one of those elements of safety and comfort that can make the necessity of staying at home in the winter not only endurable, but desirable.  It helps me look forward to getting into a mindset that I can loosely call hibernating.

Strictly speaking, we humans don’t hibernate in the way we picture bears doing so.  And, as a sidenote, I’ll acknowledge that there is a semantic debate among some biologists as to whether bears are “true” hibernators or not – as compared to ground squirrels or chipmunks, whose body temperature lowers significantly more – though there is no question that the life systems of bears certainly behave dramatically differently in the winter than during the rest of the year… their lifestyle is winterized.

But for those of us who live in this climate, taking an opportunity to slow down, hunker down with some comforting surroundings, and reducing the need to be as active as other times of the year, allows for different ways of connecting with ourselves, with others, with the places we call home, and to regenerate for a new year.  Winterizing is a reality for us, it is a necessity for us – it is an opportunity for us.

For you, it might be a simple matter of making some tea and sitting with a warm cup on the couch, or perhaps your favourite easy chair, with that one blanket that is particularly cozy (or stuffed animal).

Maybe putting up the decorations, and seeing them up for a few weeks, maybe even months, is what brings in that cheer you need, and that extra bit of light, when the sunlight is at a premium.

Or maybe having that long-overdue call with a dear friend, or with family you haven’t seen in a while – maybe even having them over – is what you’re looking forward to in this dawning winter season. 

It doesn’t have to be complicated, or costly, but it will require at least the minimal effort of resolving to make it happen.  Whatever it is that allows you to hibernate, it pays off to keep in sight, keep it in mind, and keep it in practice.

As we consider how we may hibernate in cold and dark days, we also remember that not everyone in our community can do so easily. 

In the Boxing Day carol, the title character Wenceslas, and his page, are reminded that some folks have a harder time than others.  Boxing Day itself has been a traditional day for alms-giving, in which some measure of wealth redistribution comes into practice.  Many of us, who are able to do so, also stretch that practice throughout this season, or perhaps beyond, with general giving to those causes and communities that we consider important in sharing warmth with others beyond ourselves.

My friends, in this season of dark and cold, we intentionally set the time and space for light and warmth.  Be it with five candles on a wreath throughout the month, eight candles on a candleholder throughout this week, a candle on a chalice on Sundays or other times of spiritual focus, or a fireplace, physical or virtual, that we may find a way to light our season.

My friends, in this season of dark and cold, we also keep in mind all who can use some help in warming up and finding glimmers of light.  And we remember that it’s perfectly appropriate to ask for this help.

My friends, as we kindle these flames, may our own selves be joined in one community of warmth and light.

So may it be,
In the spirit of rest and renewal,
Amen

Copyright © 2022 Rodrigo Emilio Solano-Quesnel

Boxing Day Carol – Good King Wenceslas

Sarah and Kathy Wert, and Rev. Rod

Time for All Ages

Carl Sagan – Cosmos – Stars – We Are Their Children – Smithsonian Channel

Sermon – Stellar Apple Pie – Rev. Rod

Watch:

Read: [Printable PDF document available for download]

As we approach the middle of December, certain seasonal motifs become increasingly conspicuous.  It will be common to see “indoor trees” in many homes (maybe even your own), and these are often decorated with a star at the top – as is the one we have in our church’s sanctuary.

Stars, of course, are linked with the traditional Christmas story, which includes an account of a Star of Bethlehem, as a guiding light toward a mystical revelation.  In Christmas, this mystical revelation is the power of cosmic divinity in a child.

Last year, I spoke about the Posadas tradition in Mexico, in which small communities look to re-enact part of the Christmas story, in which Mary and Joseph look for lodging while traveling far from home, so that Mary may give birth to her child (posada refers to “lodging”).  At the end of this re-enactment, it is customary to smash a piñata, which is traditionally made in a “Star of Bethlehem” image, with many points adorned in paper ruffles and tassels.  This tradition would start this week (it’s usually around the Dec. 16), so this feels like a good time to think about stars, and how they may continue to offer guidance in our lives.

Along with that, this is also a season in which many of us pay special attention to certain kinds of foods.  This may simply be that some childhood favourites of yours are featured more often around this time of year.  Or, you happen to be able to gather with friends or family who make special dishes.  Or, perhaps you are the person who is keen on making these special dishes, either for others… or for yourself.

When gathering for special food – or when settling down on your own for some special treat – there is sometimes a debate on whether to get food ready-made or whether to start “from scratch” and make it all on your own.

Now, I should say that I find no shame in getting food ready-made.  Depending on each of our individual situations, it may be the most realistic or effective way to get fed.  I myself like to get certain meals made by the professionals, either because I might not have the time or inclination to make a meal at a given time, or because I know that, for some dishes, there are others who are better at preparing them than me.

But, if you’re up for the challenge, or find it personally enjoyable, there can be a certain feeling of achievement in making something from scratch – starting with ingredients that may be used for many other things, but then making them into an entirely new thing.  It may take longer (and may sometimes even be costlier) than simply getting the finished product from the get-go, but going through the process of preparation can be its own payoff, and sometimes even offer a superior product – or, at least, one that is personally special.

Yet, as we gaze upon the stars, and ponder about their ancient wisdom, an inconvenient question might crop up – can we really make anything from scratch?

Scratch is a way of saying “from the beginning”, so that we may take some claim of responsibility – and credit – for creating a meal ourselves “all on our own”.

Most of us will understand that starting with typical kitchen ingredients, such as fresh produce, or plain spices and seasonings, might be enough to say we’re starting from scratch – that is, from the beginning.  And from then on staking a claim that we’re making the thing ourselves.

Take apple pie.  If we start with a few things like apples, flour, sugar, cinnamon, and a few other things, like butter, salt, and whatever your secret recipe calls for, and then put them together and bake it, we can typically claim credit for having made the pie “all on your own”.

And to be clear, making an apple pie this way is, indeed, an achievement.  And I know that some of you are particularly good at this sort of thing – so, this is not a commentary on your abilities or skill.

But going deeper, how much does this really represent making it “all on our own”?  What does it really take to start “from the beginning”?

Very quickly, we realize that that particular claim is a bit of a fantasy.  The apples didn’t come out of nowhere.  They may have come from the orchard down the street, or been trucked in from a place further away.  And they were grown from the ground, with water from the ground or the sky, with knowhow from a whole team of farmers and farm workers, and labour by people that live nearby or came from far away.  They, too, make the pie that we bake.  The beginning starts further back than our kitchen counter.  The reality is that none of us makes a pie “all on our own”.

Same deal with the sugar, which most certainly came from farther away, not to mention additional processing by people and machines, at a factory.  And the butter has a similar story, plus the life investment of animals that gave of themselves, in some way or other (even vegetarians have bees to recognize for their role in pollinating for fruits and vegetables).  Many of you are involved in some of these kinds of industries, and will well appreciate the work involved way before a pie starts “from scratch”.  None of us make a pie “all on our own”.

I could tell similar stories about any of the ingredients that go into a pie, way before we have a go at making it “all on our own”… “from the beginning”.

But let’s go a bit deeper.  Because even before any of these ingredients get to look like anything we’d recognize as food, or the inputs for the food, we might consider what makes the stuff that they’re made of… and that stuff was made a long, long time ago – possibly in our galaxy, but likely still far, far away.

I’m particularly fond of the way that the late astrophysicist Carl Sagan describes how all of the elements we’re made of have had a long journey toward their creation.  Most of them were made during the lives of stars… or as they died.  And even though hydrogen, the simplest of the elements was not made in stars, it too could only be formed as the early big bang universe cooled down enough for it to come into being, at a time very close to the beginning.

In the vast furnaces of stars, hydrogen came together under immense pressure and heat to make helium… and eventually, other things like carbon, and oxygen, things that our bodies and the stuff we eat know very well.  After enough hydrogen fuses together to make iron, then it is only through the death of some stars – in massive supernovae explosions – that we come about other elements we know, like gold, and tungsten, and… molybdenum.  What we stand on, what we breathe, who we are, all came to be in another time and another space, in and by stars we’ll never know about, and which we have never named.

My friends, we have spent much time and contemplation this year in honoring and recognizing the legacy of our ancestors, recent and historic.  And just as we are the product of our ancestors, for whom we are grateful, we and these ancestors are the products of ancestral stars, whom we may honor and recognize as part of our creation – to whom we may offer credit in the creation of the carbon, oxygen, nitrogen, that make up the apples in a pie, forged inside stars and at their end, as well as the even more ancestral hydrogen, which may be nearly as old as our universe.

My friends, it is no small feat to make an apple pie in your kitchen, especially if you get to share it with loved ones – or with strangers you have yet to meet.  And it does not diminish your achievement to share the credit with those who also collaborated in making the ingredients before they got to the kitchen, or with the ancestors who crafted the knowhow and shared the knowledge, or with the stellar ancestors that made possible what we are and where we are.

My friends, we may never make a dish “all on our own”, but then, isn’t it comforting that we don’t ever do anything “all on our own”? as a cloud of witnesses collaborates with us in everything we do? (a cloud that includes, somewhere along the line, a literal cosmic cloud from a nebula of freshly-created elements)

My friends, it turns out that, to really make an apple pie from scratch may take longer than we might expect – 14 billion years, give or take a few million.

My friends, over this holiday season, or into the new year, if you come across a slice of apple pie, or apples, or pie, it wouldn’t be out of place to offer a prayer of gratitude and joy, to the people who made the final preparation “all on their own – but not by their own” (no small feat); a prayer of gratitude and joy for the people and animals who offered of themselves; a prayer of gratitude and joy for the stars whose lives continue to live within each of us; for our ancestors near and far; recent and from time immemorial; for the unfathomable forces and reach of time and space, which remind us that none of us is “all on our own”.

So may it be,
In the spirit of mystical connection,
Amen

Copyright © 2022 Rodrigo Emilio Solano-Quesnel

Hymn #1051 We Are… (For Each Child That’s Born)

~)-| Words & music: Ysaÿe M. Barnwell, 1946- , © 1991 Barnwell’s Notes Publishing (BMI).  Used by permission.

Annual Dinner 2021 – Dr. Ysaÿe Barnwell Performs “We Are”
Bishop John T. Walker School for Boys (2 March, 2021)

Time for All Ages – Hallelujah Chorus – Quinhagak, Alaska – 5^th Grade class of Kuinerrarmiut Elitnaurviat school

James Barthelman (Dec. 20, 2010)

Sermon – The Curiosity Gap – Rev. Rod

Watch:

Read: [Printable PDF document available for download]

Picture this: it’s 5:05pm, you’ve just finished listening to the afternoon news on CBC Radio – which is all you needed to hear before dinner – but you took just a little too long to turn off the radio, and now you’ve caught a few words from the announcer about the upcoming show on the secrets of better sleep, as revealed by new revolutionary research – “coming up next” they helpfully remind you… before you know it, you’re halfway through a show you’d originally had no plan to listen to, but now can’t seem to be able to walk away from.

What happened?

It’s not your fault, that’s simply the work of journalists using one of the oldest tricks in the book.  In content marketing, this is known as the curiosity gap, often phrased as something like: “the gap between what people know and what they would like to know”.

In other words, whoever is writing the news or a show – and the advertising for it – expects that you already have at least some background knowledge about what they are going to talk about.  But they also presume that they are going to give you some information you’re unlikely to know – and will likely find fascinating.  So, before the show even gets going, the announcer tells you… not exactly what they’re going to tell you later, but that they’re going to tell you something more about what you already know, and are presumably interested in.  That gap is a compelling force into keeping your attention.

And it’s not just radio – TV news, print news, and online news, all employ this tactic.  It’s part of what can make learning about the world – and its many challenges – so addictive, even if it isn’t always as inspiring, or pleasant, as the kind of entertainment media that you might be more likely to follow for relaxation or amusement.

The curiosity gap is a powerful force.

And, in the case of the internet, the marketing aspect of the curiosity gap is even more insidious – and potentially more harmful.

Online, the riskier version of the curiosity gap gambit has come to be known as clickbait, that is, headlines or links that are worded so that they can be irresistible to ignore, baiting you by promising to satisfy your curious mind, by hinting that they’ll give an incredible answer to a question they have raised in the headline – if only you clicked.

Classic examples are phrasings such as “You won’t believe how so-and-so keeps their house so clean” or “Are your recipes ruining your dinner parties?”

(By the way, there’s a news media adage that, whenever a headline ends with a question mark, then the answer is almost always “no”.)

These kinds of headlines or article titles are especially difficult to ignore if they have tickled some sense of insecurity in you.  This is often used by the makers of products that promote diets or beauty products, who often use clickbait in the form of sensationalistic banners that give promises of a body that is considered ideal by certain segments of our society, although the goal of this kind of body is often neither attainable nor necessary for being able to love oneself and to be loved by others.  There is also the risk of harmful products that underdeliver on their promises or which may be outright dangerous to one’s physical or mental health.

Other times, the clickbait technique may simply lure you into wasting time on information that is nowhere as important (or interesting) as its headline may have made it out to be.  This may seem like a minor hazard, but when that lost time reduces the time for you to connect more deeply with better content, or with those around you, the harm can be real.

So, yes, my friends, clickbait, and the manipulative use of the curiosity gap, can be harmful in many ways.  It is little wonder that the action of following a seemingly endless thread of clickbaity content is often labeled as doom-scrolling.  And a lot of doom-scrolling – even more of it than usual – happened during the pandemic, when our curiosity to find more and better information left a wide gap, which many content providers were vying to fill – some more responsibly than others.

Curiosity can be a powerful force.

Now, using the curiosity gap, or even some versions of clickbait, isn’t always a bad thing, nor is it necessarily a nefarious tactic.  After all, the job of journalists, and other kinds of content creators, is to make content that you want to follow and may indeed be information you need, or could at least find useful.  And presumably, you are interested in following interesting content… at least some of the time.

One of my favourite content creators is Adam Ragusea – you’ve seen me reference him, or even play some of his videos, here before.  A journalist by training, he describes himself as “man in a kitchen with a camera” and his channel is food focused.  And while he does offer weekly recipes, he also has videos that are essentially food journalism, exploring aspects about food production, preparation, commerce, and even the ethics around the food we eat, and how we get it.

In a speech he gave to the Atlanta Writers’ Club a couple years ago – during the height of the initial pandemic waves – he spoke about how he struggles to balance the need to inform right away and the need to get people’s attention – and therefore onto the content he creates.

At the time, in the context of the pandemic, he made a video to emphasize that getting food through minimal contact with people was safer than riskier options, such as going to restaurants.  He titled that video “People are more dangerous than food” – effectively offering the answer right in the title.  He did this because he felt that playing the clickbait game, with a curiosity gap headline, was inappropriate at the time, wanting to prioritize giving as much of the answer as possible in the title itself.

But he noticed that this particular video had significantly fewer views than some of his videos with less urgent information that had more clickbaity titles.

Adam Ragusea wondered if he’d had gotten more views with a title like: “Can you get covid from food?” – a question for which you’d have to click in order to get the answer – thus enticing more people to click and get a fuller sense of the safety information he was looking to offer.  He has reluctantly accepted that, if he cannot get people’s attention, he cannot inform them, and thus makes some use of curiosity gap tactics to get people onto his content.

He balances this by giving away the most important information early in his videos (rather than make you wait to the end of the video, as some other YouTubers are prone to do), and he also ensures that he does intensive journalistic research before publishing, seeking to offer good quality information.  In this way, he feels he has “earned” your click.

In fact, we do this kind of thing at church.  When I write the blurbs for the upcoming month’s sermons, my e-mails to the newsletter team are headed “Titles & Teasers”.  If you’ve ever wondered why my titles aren’t more forthright, part of the reason is that I’m leaving a bit of the subject matter deliberately in the gap between what you know and what you want to know, hoping that this will pique your curiosity and you’d be more inclined to engage with the service.

If I worded my title and blurb something like “today I’m going to talk about how understanding star formation cycles can offer spiritual inspiration”, you might be less keen to attend, or to click on the Zoom link. (Next week’s sermon, by the way, is called “Stellar Apple Pie”… it’s about how understanding star formation cycles can offer spiritual inspiration).

Of course, there is more than a simple marketing ploy at play.  Because part of our tradition’s practice is to inspire curiosity, so intentionally seeking the gap between what we know and what we want to know is precisely what we are often about – looking to bridge that gap, and then find the next one – because curiosity is a powerful motivator to make connections between the gaps, that we may explore how our fragmented world is far more connected than we might expect.

My friends, curiosity is a powerful force.

Last week, my friends, I spoke about some of the practices that we sometimes take, or which folks have suggested, to bring cheer and warmth into a season that might otherwise be cold and dark.  These practices and suggestions included a mix of comfort in tradition, as well as excitement in seeking novelty.  Our church is about that, finding a sense of grounding and guidance in the work and insights from our ancestors, while also pursuing the gap that our curiosity finds, that we may move toward bolder, deeper, and more connected ways of being.

My friends, in the spirit of the season, we encourage curiosity through an appeal to exploration, to search how we may stay connected or make new connections – with oneself or with others – as the cold season may invite warm opportunities to either gather together, or find comfort in our own places, in sometimes new and exciting ways.

My friends, curiosity is one of the drivers of our faith.  And finding the gap in it is an invitation to practice that faith.

So may it be,
In the spirit of curiosity,
Amen

Copyright © 2022 Rodrigo Emilio Solano-Quesnel

Closing #354 We Laugh, We Cry
~)-| Words & Music: Shelley Jackson Denham, 1950- , © 1980 Shelley Jackson Denham,
~)-| harmony by Betsy Jo Angebrandt, 1931- , © 1992 UUA
Tune CREDO

First Unitarian Church of Baltimore (10 January, 2021)