Unitarian Church of Montreal

The Things We Hide

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 7 March 2010

Pity the poor Rev. Barzillai Frost, droning on in his pulpit at the First Parish in Concord, Massachusetts, back in the 1830s. Ralph Waldo Emerson, his most brilliant and soon to be famous parishioner, sits in the upper balcony, peering down and fidgeting restlessly in his discontent.  Snow is falling outside, each snowflake a testament to the wonder of creation. 

Worship, Worth-ship, What?

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 21 February 2010

“How did this word worship creep back into our vocabulary?” someone recently asked me.  Ok, I admit it.  It’s all my fault.  Well, nearly all my fault.  This congregation had already been in transition around questions of language when I arrived three and a half years ago.

The Meaning of Life

Reflection by Stephen Jarislowsky, 7 February 2010

Rather than give you a heroic version of my life up to coming to Montreal in 1949 at the age of 23, I prefer to provide some anecdotes not to disappoint you entirely, but it is largely a period that for me was a problematic childhood and adulthood.  What I can say is that if you survive five countries and language changes by age 20, a time in the midst of two war scenes – Europe in 1940/41 and the Far East in 1945/46, you have lived a lifetime – for many young men of that time literally!

Lay Chaplaincy Sunday

Reflection by Nicoline Guerrier, 14 February 2010 

Late last year, during the noisy crush of coffee hour in the Phoenix Hall next door, two visitors to one of our Sunday Services asked me, shouting over the din: “What is it that has kept you committed to this church and Unitarian Universalism all these years?”  I found myself excitedly telling them about our Lay Chaplaincy program, and the way in which for me, Lay Chaplaincy is the clearest example of the unique possibilities offered by our movement.

All We Are and All We Can Be

Rev. Diane Rollert, 24 January 2010

Sometimes when you first arrive in a new place, it can be easier to see the broader vista.  You see the vast forest and how far it reaches.  But in time, your focus narrows.  You begin to see the trees, then the pine needles, the pinecones, and the lichen as it grows on the tree trunks.  You look beyond the broad majestic beauty to see the narrow mysteries of tiny insects boring holes into the bark.

To Seek the Truth – Or Not

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 17 January 2010

Not too long ago, I told you the story of my experience of spending a week in conversation with psychologist Thomas Moore, bestselling author of Care of the Soul.  You’ll recall that it was me, Tom and 24 other Unitarian Universalist ministers sitting in a very non-sexy, windowless conference room, with no agenda. One afternoon, we ministers started to talk about what it means to be tellers of truth and the importance of being authentic.

On the Turtle’s Back

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 10 January 2010

On December 19, my family and I gathered up our passports with our newly received Immigration Visas and did what you might call le tour des portes, or the tour of the entryways.  We drove to the border, crossed into the US and took a sharp U-turn back to Canada.  

Dark Nights, Bright Stars

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 6 December 2009

Dark nights, bright stars.
Somewhere between the body and the spirit 
There is the soul, the thing that makes us human.
Bright morning stars are rising,
Day is a breaking in my soul, in my soul.

We arrive in Ottawa at night and if there are stars or a full moon, I can’t tell you. I’m intent on arriving.  I’m intent on seeing old friends I haven’t seen for a while.

The Atomic Mosquito of 56 Sparks Street

A Sermon in Two Voices by the Reverend Jessica Purple Rodela, First Unitarian Congregation of Waterloo

Introduction from Rev. Diane Rollert:  In honour of the 100th anniversary of the birth of Dr. Lotta Hitschmanova, founder of the Unitarian Service Committee of Canada, my  colleague, the Rev. Jessica Purple Rodela, gathered materials from a collection of quotes posted on the web by the USC. Out of Lotta’s own words, Jessica created a sermon in two voices, which she has given to us for fair and free use. On Sunday, November 29, we took a departure from the usual to share this extraordinary document. I post this with special thanks to UCM member, Diana Marvel who dressed in olive green suit and military cap and brilliantly embodied Lotta for our service.

The Veil Again

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 22 November 2009

It is night in Istanbul, the hour of the final evening prayer.  The neighbourhood mosque is lit up in the darkness and the call to prayer begins.  The chanting reverberates from the minaret of one mosque to the next, until it overwhelms the sound of the city and nothing else can be heard.  Then there is silence and the din of the night-time traffic reasserts itself. I’m expecting to see crowds lining up to enter the mosque, but nothing has changed. The restaurants are filled.  People are out walking or waiting for the bus. The city goes on.

Bowling Alone for Peace

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 8 November 2009

Oh what a time we have had trying to find the right place to install the World War I memorial plaque.  Did it belong in the front hallway? Did it belong in the Memorial Corner in the Sanctuary? Did it need to be stored until some future date?  I remember a poignant moment, when one of our Wardens said to me, “Why are we so upset about this?”

Listen More Often to Things Than to Beings

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 1 November 2009

Listen more often to things than to beings,
‘tis the ancestor’s breath when the fire’s voice is heard,
‘tis the ancestor’s breath in the voice of the waters…

         Words adapted from a poem by Birago Diop 
from the song “Breaths” by Ysaye Barnwell

I often think of my friend, a Tibetan Buddhist monk, who lived most of his life in India.  When his Rinpoche sent him to North America to teach, he gathered up his one small box of belongings and he moved.

The Key to This Kingdom

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 25 October 2009

Recently, I heard a story of a church that has decided to focus only on the positive.  The rules are very clear.  Only those things that attract positive energy will be given attention.  All negative language has been banished, from the sanctuary to the meeting rooms to the church’s kitchen.  Newcomers are told, “If you want to be critical, don’t come here.”  It’s a program that literally draws its principles from corporate business practices:  Positive marketing will bring in positive people who will create the best church in the world.  A positive, happy attitude is the key to this kingdom, they say.  Sounds perfect.  Well, maybe…

The Cat Tied to the Tree

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 18 October 2009

Once upon a time there was a Zen master who had a cat.  One day, as the master was meeting with his students, the cat jumped into his lap and demanded to be petted.  The master was too busy to attend to the cat, so he placed it on the ground.  Of course, the cat, being a cat, was not about to be deterred in its mission.

Paulus: A Portrait of a Sceptical Theologian

Sermon by Rev. Charles Eddis, 11 October 2009

Two weeks ago, on September 30, the Montreal Gazette published an eight-column obituary on a Unitarian minister in New York City. I was surprised and pleased that the Gazette should take such notice of one of my colleagues. It was about Forrester Church, minister of All Souls Unitarian Church in Manhattan.  The obituary ended quoting two definitions Forrester Church gave. The two definitions could be taken as summing up the essence of Paul Tillich in two sentences.

From Turkey to Transylvania, Part Two

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 4 October 2009

Letter to a Unitarian minister in Transylvania

Dear Sister in Ministry,

Surely you must have days when your heart is so full with what you want to share with your people, but your mind can’t seem to organize the thoughts.   That’s the kind of day I’m having.  Yesterday, a young man wrote to me to say that he wasn’t sure he was still a Unitarian.

Return Again

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 27 September 2009

Throughout the year there are holidays and holy days we mark.  In truth, if we chose, we could let go of them all, leaving each week to our own whims.  But then some of us would feel a great loss not to have a rhythm or shape to the year.  We would miss the celebrations and the familiar rituals.  We would miss the milestones that cause us to reflect on the year gone by.  Our community life together would become continuous, shapeless, plat.

Responses to Diane's Sermon "Turkey to Transylvania"

Within a day of posting my sermon, I've begun to receive some fascinating responses.  Here are a few...

September 24, 2009

Dear Rev. Diane Rollert,

I read your sermon titled "Turkey to Transylvania: Reflections for a New Year", and I enjoyed it. I especially enjoyed the part that you objectively reflected on the Gulen Movement.  Being some one who is inspired by Gulen and a social scientist who is studying Gulen Movement, I find that your trip was somewhat misleading.

Turkey to Transylvania: Reflections for a New Year

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert,  20 September 2009

Imagine the spice bazaar in Istanbul, the vibrant colours of spices piled high on table after table and stall after stall.  Imagine the rich smells of cinnamon, curry, sage and saffron.  My fellow travellers and I are invited upstairs to an office above one of the stalls.  The owner is a successful businessman, proud of his accomplishments.  His office is decorated like the inside of a mosque, with an arched ceiling and windows outlined with floral designs.

Gathering the Waters

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 13 September 2009

Like tranquil streams we meet and merge and flow as one to seek the sea…                                                     -Unitarian hymn, Marion Franklin Ham, 1933

As tranquil streams we meet and merge – well, maybe not all waters gathering together find it easy to flow into one source.  They bump up against rocks. They collide over boulders.  They experience cold, stinging rain – sometimes more often than they sparkle and dance in bright sunshine.  They twist and turn on their way to the common source.  And as we know, they don’t always agree on the nature of the source, or if the source exists at all … well, you get the metaphor.  Yet they come together, despite all obstacles, and they are merged and transformed into something new, something greater than themselves.

Standing on the Edge of Summer

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 21 June 2009

On the longest day of the year we stand on the edge of summer.  The starwheel turns, clicking into place for the new season.  

Mary Oliver writes in her poem, The Summer Day:

I don’t know exactly what prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?” 

On the Day that We Began

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 7 June 2009

Imagine a heavy box filled with legal-sized bound ledgers, each with pages and pages of handwritten minutes spanning years and years of the history of the Unitarians of Montreal.  The very first year of the very first ledger: 1842.  The words flow on and on in longhand, documenting each decision, each discussion, each person present, each sum collected.  Precise sentences in faded brown ink line up exactly, from margin to margin, a feat of human perfection hard to fathom today.

Explorations en/in Franglais

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 31 May 2009

It has been at least a year since I last attempted to write a bilingual sermon.  Cette fois-ci je pensais que ce serait plus facile pour moi.  Mes mots ne coulent pas avec perfection, mais après une année d’effort je me sens plus à l’aise.  Mais, c’est assez.[1] 

I know that we are a congregation that is mostly English-speaking, though we have a steadily growing membership that is increasingly bilingual,

Singing for Our Souls

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 24 May 2009

I bring you greetings from the Annual Meeting and Conference of the Canadian Unitarian Council, as well as the Unitarian Universalist Ministers of Canada (affectionately known as UUMOC).  Anyone who spoke to me the week before I left for Thunder Bay knows that I wasn’t exactly looking forward to the trip.  “Don’t forget to take your down coat,” Verna, our office administrator, teased me.  To leave the blooming apple trees, the lilacs and the greenness of this island for the north was not easy.

It’s Her Fault

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 10 May 2009

On Mother’s Day, it is hard not to think of family stories.  Surely we all have family stories that have been told so many times we no longer remember if they are fact or fiction.  These are the childhood classics, the things that happened when we were too young to remember the real incident, yet we hold an image in our heads and it becomes part of our life’s history.

Hope for Humanity; My Travels with Maria Montessori

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 3 May 2009

I’ve always wondered why Hollywood has never made a major motion picture out of Maria Montessori’s life story.   Sometimes I dream of writing the screenplay and retiring on the royalties.  The story would go something like this:

Reflections on Saving Paradise

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 12 April 2009

Fear not.  Today marks the last in our series of wounded words. Not forever, but we’ll take a rest for a while. Since October, we have been reflecting on the words of religion that challenge us.  I’ve borrowed the term “Wounded Words,” to describe those words that wound us or have been wounded by others.  Who gets to define the words that we use?  Do we let others tell us what the words of religion mean, or do we define these words for ourselves? 

Elsewhere, Christians are rejoicing with the belief that Christ was resurrected from his death on the cross to bring salvation and eternal life to those who receive his message.  But, for us, words like renewal, resurrection and salvation have very different, personal meanings.  

Seven Deadly Sins

Congratulations.  We've made it through Faith, God and Spirituality and we're still speaking to each other.  Today we come to Chapter Four in our Wounded Word series:  Sin.

When I originally collected your nominations for words that have wounded us or have been wounded by others, Sin made it to fourth place (right after Spirituality and just before Salvation). 

Loving Our Whole Lives

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 1 March 2009

The first time my husband and I taught a human sexuality course for teens at our church was probably back in 1992.  It is hard to imagine how different we, and the world, were then.  We’d only just arrived in Concord, Massachusetts, with two small children in tow.

Spiritual, Not Religious

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 22 February 2009. Part Three in a Series about "Wounded Words" with contributions from members of the congregation.

“We’re spiritual, not religious.” Frequently, that’s one of the first declarations I hear as I sit with a family in grief, or a couple planning a wedding or contemplating a child dedication.  “Spiritual, not religious.”  

Sometimes I’ll see a hesitation or a glimmer of fear as the words are spoken.  

God, Another Wounded Word

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 25 January 2009

God:  Chapter Two in the book we are writing together, “Wounded Words: A Unitarian Universalist Congregation Reflects Together on the Words They Love and Love to Hate.” 

As I read through the e-mails responding to this month’s wounded word, I remembered that day, more than a year ago, when Sarah Marx McGill sat up here with our children and asked the adults who believed in God, by whatever name, to raise their hands.  

Being the Perfect Stranger

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 11 January 2009

 From Barack Obama’s memoir, Dreams from My Father:

In [my grandfather's] only skirmish into organized religion, he would enroll the family in the local Unitarian Universalist congregation; he liked the idea that Unitarians drew on the scriptures of all the great religions ("It's like you get five religions in one," he would say). Toot [his wife, Obama's grandmother] would eventually dissuade him of his views on the church ("For Christ's sake, Stanley, religion's not supposed to be like buying breakfast cereal!")…

This Year I Will Be Intentional (I Hope): A Reflection for the Holidays

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 14 December 2008

It seems as thought it was only yesterday that we were marvelling at the greenness of the grass as the autumn leaves were falling.  Now lawns and leaves are covered in snow and ice, and I have come to understand what Gilles Vigneault meant when he sang, 'Mon pays, ce n'est pas un pays, c'est l'hiver.’ 

Faith: Thoughts on a Wounded Word

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert and Members of the Congregation, 7 December 2008

You may not realize it, but we are writing a book together.  Here’s the working title:  “Wounded Words: A Unitarian Universalist Congregation Reflects Together on the Words They Love and Love to Hate.” I’ve got a draft of the first chapter stored in my computer. Chapter One: Faith.

Beyond All Solitudes

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 30 November 2008

In 1850, the celebrated Unitarian Transcendentalist Henry David Thoreau took a ten-day trip from Boston to Montreal, Quebec City and back, spending a whopping seven dollars for his train fare. Upon his return, he published A Yankee in Canada, a colourful travelogue which began with these words: “I fear that I have not got much to say about Canada not having seen much; what I got by going to Canada was a cold.”

More Than Money No Matter What

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, Commitment Sunday, 16 November 2008

Okay, here’s one of those money jokes two or three of you have sent to me:

Johnny was going off to church one Sunday morning with several of his friends. His mother gave him two nickels (this is a very old joke). "One is for you and one for is for the church," she said. As Johnny and his friends walked along, he was flipping a nickel up in the air and catching it, over and over. Finally, one time he missed it and it rolled down a sewer.

"Oops!" he said. "There goes the church's nickel!"

Oh no, it’s that day again. That day when we have to think about what we will give to this community.

What will we sacrifice? What will we pledge to make sure that this church, this congregation, this community survives and thrives?

The Generations Remember: A Sermon for Remembrance Day

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 9 November 2008

For everything there is a season. 

A time to be born, and a time to die. 

A time to keep silence, and a time to speak. 

A time for war and a time for peace. 

On this day I want to ask you to put aside your political feelings about wars that are justly or unjustly fought.  I know that Remembrance Day can bring up conflicted feelings for many of us.  

Reflecting on Wounded Words

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 19 October 2008

Here’s a gem of wisdom from my favourite book of advice for clergy, Ministry is a High Calling (Aim Low) by Kurt R. Schuermann: 

 “Chapter 4:  Don’t ever use any words you learned in seminary.

Gratitude

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 12 October 2008

Rex, Laura and Jack, how can I express my gratitude to the three of you for speaking today?  I feel blessed to know you and to walk beside you in this time in your lives.  You are our teachers and our inspiration.  You teach us what it is to have courage, and to live with gratitude even in the face of great challenges.

Forgiving What We Cannot Forget

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 5 October, 2008

It may be deep in our tradition to want to only celebrate the happy occasions.  There is that sun-drenched aspect of our faith, which I love and appreciate.  We have awe for the beauty of this earth.  We know how to lift up what is best in humanity.  But we also know that life has its shadow side.  

Let It Begin Here

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 21 September, 2008

If there is to be peace in the world,

There must be peace in the nations.

If there is to be peace in the nations,

There must be peace in the cities.

If there is to be peace in the cities,

There must be peace between neighbours.

If there is to be peace between neighbours,

There must be peace in the home.

If there is to be peace in the home,

There must be peace in the heart.

—Lao-Tse

I often think of these words from Lao-Tse. Such a simple mathematical equation where peace in the heart equals peace in the world.  How easy for me to say.  I live a peaceful life, in a peaceful home, among peaceful neighbours, in a peaceful city... Or so it seems peaceful to me, just as this nation seems peaceful.

Nearly Gen X

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 14 September, 2008 

We're the middle children of history.... no purpose or place.  We have no Great War, no Great Depression.  Our great war is a spiritual war.  Our great depression is our lives.

 

~From the movie Fight Club, about Generation X




 

Parents often talk about the younger generation as if they didn't have anything to do with it. 

     ~ Hiam Ginott

Oh the incongruity of sitting at a tiki bar on the northern coast of the Gaspesie, surrounded by hammocks, yurts, tipis, tents and several rustic dormitories.   You would have thought we were in the Caribbean, 

The Bridge Over These Waters

Sermon by Rev. Diane Rollert, 7 September, 2008

Re-entry into life after a vacation.  You take a deep breath.  You look at that cold water rushing beneath you, that river of life that keeps on flowing, and every bone in your body shouts, “don’t jump!  It’s too cold!”  You gather up your courage and you close your eyes. Every bone in your body is still shouting as you leap into the air.  You hit the water and now every muscle and every nerve ending is screaming too.  “This is cold! This is really cold!”  Then your body adjusts to the temperature.  Oh yeah, I can do this.  You start to swim again, just as you used to swim, as if no time has passed at all and this is where you’ve always been.

Maybe like fish in a fish tank, you don’t question whether the temperature is right or not.  It simply is.  Then again, have you heard the one about the two fish in the fish tank?  “Hey,” says fish one to the other, “Do you know how to drive this thing?”

Now, I prefer to imagine that we’re swimming in the rivers of life rather than fish tanks.  But I do wonder:  do we know how to drive this thing?  Here we have flowed back together after the summer months.  We’re like the stream in the Sufi tale that struggles to find its way back to the sea.   We flow through mountains, valleys, and deserts to find our way back to this sanctuary.  Maybe we have known the still waters of rest and renewal or the flowing waters of joy and happiness.  Maybe we have known the stormy waters of grief and loss or the rushing waters of change and transition. We pour all that water, and all those experiences into one communal bowl, and then we wonder, how do we drive this thing?

How do we do this together?  Well, maybe, instead of plunging into the icy cold water, we should take the bridge.  

Ah, yes, you do remember that metaphor of the bridge that came up last spring as we were working on our mission statement.  Last year, as we gathered thoughts and ideas about who we were and where we were going as a congregation, I had one of those a-ha moments.  I’d always thought that this community dreamed of becoming a beacon, a lighthouse of liberal faith in Montreal.  But as we began to imagine our future together, another image arose.  This community dreams of becoming a bridge. 

A lighthouse stands off in the distance, pristine, untouchable, even as it sends out its guiding light, I told you last spring.  But a bridge is something that is always under construction.  A bridge is something that has to be experienced directly.  We have to walk across it.  We have to hold onto its railings.  We have to shore it up when it starts to sag.  We have to work on it.

A bridge calls us to walk back and forth, to take both directions.  We cross the bridge in one direction to find our place of truth and meaning. We cross the bridge in the opposite direction to bring that understanding out into the world.

I love the words that now grace our new order of service.  “As a spiritual community, we welcome and nurture, we inspire and challenge, we take action in the world.”  These words are clear and direct.  Now we have to live up to them.  We have to engage with our mission.  We have to make it real and learn to live it together.

How do we drive this thing?  I’ve been thinking about it all summer.  The stakes are high here.  We’re done with the talking and now we have to do the work.  It’s time to build the bridge.

In two weeks, we’ll gather for an all-congregation retreat, beginning with a Friday night potluck supper on September 19, followed by an all-day programme on Saturday.  That will be your opportunity to determine the concrete steps we’ll take in the next year and the years to come in order to fulfil our mission.  

Whatever specific steps we do decide to take, it is clear to me that the bridge we build will have be to a lot wider and a lot stronger to support a lot more people.  We have big dreams and deep longing, and without more hands to help, they won’t be realized or fulfilled.  There’s illness, loneliness, loss and great need here in our own midst and in our surrounding community. I want to see us build a true Caring Connection, a real team – not just one person, not just two, but a real network that makes sure that everyone in our community is taken care of.  I want to see us continue to build our social justice outreach so that we are an even greater presence in Montreal.

We’ll have to take bold steps to more deeply engage our cultural and theological diversity.  We’ll have to take on all those words that make us squirm, and listen to each other with respect as we speak from our own hearts and with our own language.  

And, we’ve got to make space for all the generations to come together, to support our children and youth, to encourage more young families to become actively engaged in our community.  They are out there and they need us and we need them.  

Our dreams and longings won’t be fulfilled unless we grow.  We have to grow, because this world needs us, not because of what we are already, but because of what we can become.  Our mission is what we aspire to be.  We can’t pat ourselves on the back and tell ourselves our mission is already fulfilled, not yet, not ever.  We’ve got to work to get there and then keep on working to stay there.

Now, I confess, as an American who is becoming a Canadian, I’m totally obsessed with what is happening south of our border right now – and here in Canada, as elections loom.  We’re in a period of time when things could be shifting more and more to the right.  Whatever your political affiliation may be, you can see how much the world continues to shift away from the common good in favour of the selfishness and cynicism of individuals.  We have to be a counterbalance here.  If there are more of us, we will have more of a voice in this community, in this city and in this world.  But getting there means comforting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable.  

As we grow, things will get messy.  Not everyone will know the rules.  Generations and different groups may clash as they learn to understand each other.  But we can’t afford to be comfortable.  We can’t afford to be a clubhouse, or even a distant, pristine lighthouse.  We can’t be a fortress.  Bridges get used.  They get walked upon.  They see a lot of traffic.  They need to be strong and welcoming. That means that each and every one of us has to become a fresh air ambassador.  The doors are wide open now. The front walkway is free.  We’ve got to be welcoming to every single person who enters here.  There’s a good chance they’ve been searching a long time. But we can’t sit back and wait until they come.  We’ve got to bring them in. 

Who do you know whose life would be improved by coming here?  Who do you know who would improve our lives by being part of our community?  What if you brought them to church one Sunday?  I know this sounds radical, almost evangelical by Unitarian standards.  But as one newcomer said to me last year, we are the best-kept secret in Montreal.  If we want to be a place that matters in this city and in the world, we need to reach out to welcome and nurture those who can then inspire and challenge us to do more in the world. 

There’s a beautiful poem called The Bridge by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, one of our Unitarian ancestors.  He writes of his relationship to a bridge over the course of his life, from his days of youthful sorrow and passion to a time when he has grown to have compassion for the burdens of others.  

I see the long procession


Still passing to and fro,


The young heart hot and restless,


And the old subdued and slow!

And forever and forever,


As long as the river flows,


As long as the heart has passions,


As long as life has woes;

The moon and its broken reflection


And its shadows shall appear,


As the symbol of love in heaven,


And its wavering image here.



 This is what I imagine.  A strong bridge that will connect us from this sanctuary to the world, where we can stop and watch the changes in our lives and catch glimpses of that wavering image of love.

The stakes are high for us here, and very worth the effort.

Rev. Diane Rollert, copyright 2008

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