by Rev Dr Linda Hart
We light this chalice as a symbol of the spark of life which abides within us and around us.
May it be as a light in a dark night, a light in a window that welcomes the weary traveller home.
May it be as a light in the hand of a trusted friend, that guides us along the path.
May it be as the light in the face of one we love, bright with joy.
by Yvonne Aburrow
The flame consumes the wick,
Constantly changing and dancing
Sharing its radiance with us.
So may our souls be aflame with divine love
Sharing our radiance with others.
Adapted from a traditional Jewish prayer
As we light the Chalice
Spirit of Life
we thank you for these past seven days.
Thank you for protecting our beloved community
and bringing us safely through the week:
for deeper understanding of each other;
for strengthening one another
by sharing our joys and concerns
our victories and mishaps.
I pray that in this coming week
our sense of community and our love for each other
will grow, that we will have good health and you will be with us
and with everyone everywhere
who feels lost, frightened, alone or ill.
by Naomi Levine
We light this chalice in the face of uncertainty.
May the light I see from this chalice connect me
to the light of the beloved community of which I am a part.
May our connections grow in new and fulfilling ways.
by Alice Berry
Children of the earth and sky, we arc nurtured, sustained, given warmth and light
from above and below. Supported by earth’s strong, firm crust, we build our homes, till the fields, plant our gardens and orchards. When we turn from self and seek to be aware, we will find holy light in human faces, in blossom, birdsong, and sky. Then earth is truly our home, and we are one with all earth’s creatures, Parents of earth’s children yet to be.
by Alice Anacheka-Nasemann
In a time of uncertainty, when everything around us is changing constantly— each day new developments, rising numbers, changing guidelines; when the world we live in suddenly seems upside-down and topsy-turvy:
We light our chalice to remind ourselves of our grounding in our faith.
We remember that the flaming chalice came into being as a beacon of hope during World War II: a secret symbol that offered help.
In the midst of it all, we wrap ourselves in the warm light of a familiar flame, a reminder of the strength that emerges when we come together in community.
by Marcia Stanard
Yesterday, there were fewer cars at the Arrivals dock at the Portland airport than there were dogs being walked on my block.
Yesterday, a friend reported a clandestine meeting—a walk with her elderly mother—careful to keep a six-foot distance as they strolled together in the sunshine.
Yesterday, schools were closed, and bars, and restaurants. We no longer gather, laughing, in bustling crowds of strangers who might become friends.
But today, people in Italy sang together out their balconies. Meals on Wheels drivers put bags of food on doorknobs, backed up six feet, and waited to see if the seniors were okay.
Today, the technology that we swore was killing our relationships—those phones our youth sink into, ignoring the world in front of them—is saving us. Letting us gather, see one another’s faces.
Tomorrow, fewer people will sicken and die if we keep our distance today. Imagine if all difficult choices had such clear and obvious results—
And then living as if they do.