A water communion liturgy that asks that we listen for God’s voice in the waters.

You are now holding in your heart a precious commodity. Someone trusted you with what was irking them, what brought them joy, what enraged them, what frightened them, what moved them, or simply, what is.

Give thanks for all the waters that be—for bays and gulfs and shining seas!

To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness.

We honor all our beloved dead whose bodies have returned to the earth, the earth that is our home. We honor their lives which shaped our own. We honor their love, which is beyond death. We honor their teachings, which teach us still.

We are whole and holy; we are loved beyond all measure. And in our refusal to accept anything less, may we know we are rooted in the infinite divinity.

We light this chalice to ignite the divine spark of the universe, whose pronouns have always been plural…

As T. Thorn Coyle says, “Practice makes possible.” How can the practice of covenant help us to navigate relationships in our lives and in our congregations?

High up, the wild geese have pulled the rusty doorway of Autumn closed behind them, their sharp music a choir of deep acoustic truth.

We lift up those who fear that their hurts, their pains, are too insignificant for healing. May they know that their hurt and their pain is valid, no matter the size, and may they feel comforted in the knowledge that they are not alone and that they are loved.

We extinguish this flame to remind us: love is the center. As we explore and rest, engage and heal: love remains the center. When all we can see is cold ashes: love remains.

We light this flame to remind us: love is the center. As we grow and connect, mature and deepen: love remains the center. When the light of truth burns all else away: love remains.

We light this chalice with all our soul’s longing, to be who we are, to be who will we will become, to be ourselves.

The offering we take each Sunday is an opportunity to recommit to this place, and to these people. It is as much a ritual as singing together, lighting our Chalice, or reciting our Unison Affirmation.

May we continue to strive to know one another in community.

Let us rejoice for those who safely passed through the shades of night towards the daylight of freedom.

The water of tears, the water of cleansing and renewal, the water of nourishment, and the water of change.

What’s the value of volunteering? What’s the meaning of shared ministry? What’s in it for me?

May we remember the atrocities that brought us here.

On this Sunday before Labor Day, we light this flame to honor all work. Not only the work we do for pay with our hands, our backs, and our minds, that is important, yes. But also the work we do for love!