On this green bank, by this soft stream, We place with joy a votive stone, That memory may their deeds redeem, When, like our sires, our sons are gone. —Ralph Waldo Emerson A green heron stands motionless on the bank of Emerson’s soft stream. In its beak it holds a fish, just the right size for...

It’s a pilgrimage, like a trek around Mount Kailash, or perhaps Bodh Gaya, but it’s life itself, the whole thing, every moment. On the high passes of Mount Kailash, pilgrims hope for a kind of death, a rebirth of spirit, and it’s not a bad thing to go there, do that, if time and money allow.

The first time I ever played “Taps” was at summer camp when I was ten years old. That was the year I started playing trumpet, so I can only imagine how it sounded. I know there was no way that I could have hit the high note near the end. The first time I played Taps in honor of those who died...

When my youngest daughter was about two years old she came across a tattered paperback on our bookshelves, Ten Thousand Baby Names, and for a little while this was her favorite book. Drawn by the shining face of the baby on the cover, she brought it to me over and over and demanded that I read...

The first time my heart felt broken, I went to church. When my mom died, I went to church. When I failed a class, I went to church. When I failed a friend, I went to church. When I felt like I’d failed at life, I went to church. I didn’t go asking for forgiveness. I didn’t go asking for...

We are all dying, our lives always moving ­toward completion. We need to learn to live with death, and to understand that death is not the worst of all events. We need to fear not death, but life— empty lives, loveless lives, lives that do not build upon the gifts that each of us has been given,...

My high school years were speckled with trust walks. In my ­Unitarian Universalist youth group at the First UU Congre­gation of Ann Arbor, each year, the incoming freshmen were given blindfolds and a partner. They were led out into the dark, with only hands on their shoulders to guide them. When...

Our Subaru Forester was sliding sideways down Interstate 80 at fifty miles per hour. My wife, Nan, had gingerly switched to the left-hand lane to avoid a truck that was overturned on the right shoulder, but no amount of experience, skill, or caution could overcome our car’s mass and momentum on a...

As we light the chalice and fully embrace the sacred space created here this morning, please hold in your hearts the Unitarian Universalist principle which calls upon us to respect the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part....