Sermons and Talks

Reflection #115 (28th December 2025 at Essex Church / Kensington Unitarians)

‘Roots hold me close, wings set me free’. So wrote Carolyn McDade, composer of ‘Spirit of Life’. What’s your relationship to roots and wings, I wonder? What do those metaphors suggest to you?

When we think about our roots, we might think of our family of origin, our culture or community, any traditions (including religious traditions) we were born into, and everything else we inherited as a result of that. Or we might think of being rooted in a network of relationships we’ve built up for ourselves over the course of our life so far – our chosen family, perhaps – the communities and cultures we’ve become embedded in, by choice or by chance, where we feel some lasting commitment, some sense of rootedness, belonging, or stability, an anchor in the storms of life.

Reflection #114 (21st December 2025 at Essex Church / Kensington Unitarians)

The Christmas story is a strange story – maybe we forget that once we get a bit older – when we’ve heard it so many times. And it’s so many stories all at once. We could choose to focus on so many different dimensions of the Nativity that might speak to the times we are living in. But this morning, as I said at the top of the service, I want us to take this opportunity to focus on the idea of incarnation.

Reflection #113 (26th October 2025 at Essex Church / Kensington Unitarians)

We need each other. It seems such an obvious thing to say, doesn’t it? But when I look at the world around me it sometimes seems to be a truth we have collectively forgotten. Remarkably it’s 30 years now since Robert Putnam’s famous essay ‘Bowling Alone’ was published (the book that sprang from it came along a few years later). There was a time where this was being referenced left, right, and centre – the essay looked at the decline in ‘associational life’ in America in particular – but I think the same is true in the UK: we just don’t hang out with each other so much these days. And, I would guess, that trend has only accelerated in recent years, firstly as a result of austerity policies and public cuts, secondly due to the pandemic. A one-two punch that it’s hard to pick ourselves up from.

Reflection #112 (21st September 2025 at Essex Church / Kensington Unitarians)

It’s good for us to set aside time once a year for a special service like this – a service of thanksgiving – and by timing it to coincide with the traditional harvest festivals (around the time of the autumn equinox) we can situate ourselves in a long line of generations who came before us and who held similar celebrations. In centuries past, I expect people would have been rather more keenly aware of the precarity of the harvest, particularly the vagaries of weather and disease, and all the factors that had to align for them and their families to get enough to eat. So it was natural to get to September and say ‘the harvest is in, thank God, and it will see us through winter.’

Reflection #111 (7th September 2025 at Essex Church / Kensington Unitarians)

A couple of weeks ago, I was on my way back from Hucklow Summer School, which is in some ways – for me, at least – a little slice of heaven. For one week a year we create this little bubble in which we try to live like we wish the world would live. Fifty-odd Unitarians (and Friends) squashed together in one place and doing their best to build beloved community – looking out for each other – attempting to work around each other’s foibles and accommodate each other’s needs as best we can. We often speak of affirming ‘the inherent worth and dignity of every person’ but in this setting we really try to intentionally embody that key principle and put it into action. We try to practice right relationship. It’s hard work, and we don’t always get it right, but it’s a space that brings me hope. It’s a little glimpse, a vision, of how things could be.

Theme Talk delivered at Hucklow Summer School (17th August 2025)

This year we are marking 30 years of Hucklow Summer School – the first one was in 1995 – and my first one was in the year 2000 so (even my middle-aged brain can manage the maths on this one) I’ve been coming to summer school for 25 years now. And I turned 50 this year! So that’s half my life under the influence of summer school. And, latterly, influencing summer school, in turn, as I’ve been increasingly involved in running it for the last 20 years, and picking the themes.

Reflection #110 (20th July 2025 at Essex Church / Kensington Unitarians)

The question at the heart of today’s service is this: “What does it mean – what could it mean – for religion to be ‘transformative’?” More specifically: “what might transformative religion look like for Unitarians? People like us?” What might it mean for you? For everyone joining us today?

According to the Centre for Philosophy of Religion at Notre Dame University: ‘A transformative experience is an enduring reorganization of a person’s thinking—for instance, their beliefs, attitudes, traits or emotions—that substantially alters life as they experience it or live it.’

Reflection #109 (6th July 2025 at Essex Church / Kensington Unitarians)

I feel I should begin my reflection with a confession: I am the last person who should be talking to you about improvisation. The idea of being spontaneous, speaking off-the-cuff, or – God forbid! – doing a role-play has struck terror into my heart for most of my life. I like to have a script, or a plan, and (more-or-less) stick to it. I need time to think things through and at the very least sketch out contingency plans for all the most likely ways that a situation will unfold. I expect that will always be my preference, and I suspect I’m not alone, though I’m sure there are plenty of free-spirits amongst us this morning too, who tend to lean more the other way. So, if you’re anything like me, you might need a bit of convincing about the idea of embracing improvisation. But, the thing is, whether you – or I – would choose to improvise for fun, or not – over the course of our lives the need to improvise occasionally is pretty much unavoidable. We’re repeatedly going to find ourselves in situations where the unexpected happens and we need to respond creatively to whatever new reality we suddenly find ourselves in.

Reflection #108 (22nd June 2025 at Essex Church / Kensington Unitarians)

Last Sunday, after the service, a few of us were sitting in the back garden, and we got to talking about butterflies. I love wildlife of all varieties, and am always on the lookout for anything at all unusual, so I mentioned that I’d seen a tortoiseshell butterfly that week, not one I see very often. This was met with slightly blank and bemused faces and even a little shrug. I was reminded that not everybody is into the same stuff as I am; we can’t all tell our tortoiseshells from our painted ladies. And that’s OK! It’s not to puff myself up about my butterfly identification skills (which, in truth, are not that advanced) or to do anyone else down for not being interested in insect spotting. But as we move through the world we’re not all attuned to the same things – I’ve been looking out for butterflies (and birds) for years so I notice them – they take up more space in my mind and my life. And so every time I leave the house there’s a happy chance I will meet a creature that I ‘know’.

Reflection #107 (15th June 2025 at Essex Church / Kensington Unitarians)

Who knew that there were so many poems about strawberries? We’ve enjoyed several already in our service today (‘The Strawberry Poem’ by Keaton St. James, ‘Strawberries’ by Tamara Madison, and ‘What is Given’ by Ralph Murre). I only want to offer a very short reflection of my own to go along with them. And, as I said at the very top of the service, I want to acknowledge that it might seem a strange decision on my part to swerve at the last minute to this apparently whimsical theme, given the state of the world and all its terrors. I had been planning to talk about theological matters, but I didn’t have the heart for it, and then I chanced across the poem ‘Ye Tang Che’ by James Crews. Its closing lines seemed so perfect: