Let us imagine washing the feet of someone who has wronged us. Their feet, too, are calloused and muddy from the road.

Memorial Day is not to be celebrated. It is to be observed, scrutinized, and witnessed on behalf of the true witnesses of our human failure to love our neighbor as ourselves.

It’s through our shared interdependence that we are sheltered and saved.

Maundy Thursday means that followers of Jesus serve.

I miss the way things were, and I know they’ll never really be the same.

Reader 1: We come today to gather together as Unitarian Universalists. Reader 2: We come today to join in the spirit of love and the service of life. Reader 3: We come today to be part of the stream of this living tradition. All: In our gathering, may we be blessed. Reader 1: Our shared faith is...

In the weaving of our story to the web of life, we must remember that we must not cut the strings, for there are others coming after us.

A haircut, a cup of coffee, or just an honest “How are you?” can be transformed into a powerful moment between two people living in a hard world.

One: On Labor Day we honor our work, physical and mental, paid and unpaid, joyous and heartbreaking. Many: We give thanks for work’s gifts, suffer its difficulties, and strive to make labor just and joyous for all. One: Our work can build our society, provide for our material needs, and give our...

What we would like to do is change the world—make it a little simpler for people to feed, clothe, and shelter themselves... by fighting for better conditions, by crying out unceasingly for the rights of the workers, the poor, of the destitute... [W]e can, to a certain extent, change the world; we...

When the song of the angels is stilled, when the star in the sky is gone, when the kings and princes are home, when the shepherds are back with their flocks, the work of Christmas begins: to find the lost, to heal the broken, to feed the hungry, to release the prisoner, to rebuild the nations, to...

(written for the Presidential Election, 2016) I walk in, as on pilgrimage. The altar cloths are red, white, and blue the ushers are the women who have been running these things who have been running everything since before I was born. I’m handed the ballot like a scroll because the questions seem...

In the first episode of "Call the Midwife"—a British show about post-WWII midwives—the main character Jenny Worth is just starting as a midwife in the East End of London. She experiences a moment of disgust and overwhelm at witnessing the awful experience of one of her expectant mothers. She...

He's not where he is supposed to be. He should be practicing sprints in the desert sun with all the other aspiring Marines, but instead he is here, retreating into the quiet shade of the chaplain's office, the one person who won’t yell at him. Since he was seven years old, he wanted to be a...

"There is a hope that's been expressed in you: the hope of seven generations, maybe more. And this is the faith that they invest in you: It's that you'll do one better than was done before. Inside you know, inside you understand; inside you know what's yours to finally set right..." —lyrics from...

I have walked that long road to freedom. I have tried not to falter; I have made missteps along the way. But I have discovered the secret that after climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb. I have taken a moment here to rest, To steal a view of the glorious...

Community is the spirit, the guiding light of the tribe, whereby people come together to fulfill a specific purpose, to help others fulfill their purpose, and to take care of one another. from The Spirit of Intimacy: Ancient Teachings in the Ways of Relationships...

You get up in the morning, you brush your teeth, and you help another human being.

First Reader: We come to you with our hopes and our fears. Will you lead us in building a welcoming religious community, tolerant and appreciative of our differences, loving and compassionate of heart, courageous and independent in spirit? Ministers: We will....

This is what one hundred years look like: A rounded wrinkled back, sparkling wet and soapy above the shower bench, and my hand, having ­gently formed in your seventieth year, and emerged with lifelines bent ­toward blessing, scrubbing ­circles across your soft, white skin. I drag the cloth...