Community and Connectedness

July 13, 2025— Community and Connectedness
Service Leader: Charlotte Ferworn

 

“Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice. Justice at its best is love correcting
everything that stands against love.” ― Martin Luther King Jr., Where Do We Go from Here: Chaos or
Community?

Description: What does it mean to build community? This summer service will reflect on our
interconnectedness and celebrate the diversity and strength that comes from unity. Together we will
contemplate what it means to build, maintain and grow our own communities — within UCM and
beyond — as Unitarian Universalists committed to justice, compassion, and respect. Service Led by
Charlotte Ferworn.

Bell Chime

Prelude
Bless the Telephone – Labi Siffre
(lyrics: https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/labisiffre/blessthetelephone.html)

Welcome & Community Notes
Good morning, everyone! It is so wonderful to see you all this morning! My name is Charlotte Ferworn,
and I will be leading today’s service. As always, I’d like to welcome all newcomers and our returning
members. You are welcome, whole as you are, in your own gender, sexual, and racial identities, in your
own history, culture and experiences. You belong.
In the spirit of Truth, Healing and Reconciliation with the Indigenous People I would like to recognize that
today we are gathered on the territory of the Mississaugas of the Credit First Nation, the Huron Wendat
and the Haudenosaunee. This acknowledgement of the land we’re on, like all land acknowledgements,
is just a tiny step in the right direction that we make as a congregation – it should be just a small part of
our collective anti-racism and decolonization work. As we move forward with our service and with the
rest of our day, let us remind ourselves that our actions matter and look for new ways to bring the spirit
of truth, healing and reconciliation to life.
I’m not sure if I’ve shared this before, but I’m a fairly recent karaoke enthusiast. My last two birthday
parties have been karaoke themed – involving renting a private karaoke room with at least two mics and
hyping up my friends to sing (while of course, finding a little time to be in the spotlight myself). I’ve
found karaoke to be a great way to quickly build camaraderie between friend groups who are just
meeting each other: there are built in easy topics of discussion and of course performing in front of each
other, with the right vibe, opens up a level of vulnerability that fosters connection.
Recently, however, I had my first bad karaoke experience – which actually had nothing to do with the
quality of signing (personally I think being good at singing has very little with a good karaoke experience).
I was invited to this bad karaoke night by a fairly new friend. It was at a karaoke bar I’d been to a few
times, and the formula for the night was the same as what I was used to, about 15 of us were renting a
private karaoke room with a couple mics. While I was initially excited, when the karaoke started it slowly
became clear that 3 people had really organized this karaoke night with the expectation that the other
12 people in the room would act as audience members to their – many – song performances. Whenever
anyone else added a song to the list or got up to sing, they turned away or looked at their phones or
started talking about what song to sing next. They chose songs that were familiar to them without really
checking to see if anyone else knew them or wanted to join. And the real kicker was that near the end
they started skipping songs other people had added as soon as they lost interest.
As I felt myself being relegated to audience member, I looked around and saw other people also turning
to their phones and disengaging. This was not the community building karaoke session I was used to.
After parting ways and as I headed home for the night, I started to think about the differences between
the karaoke nights I was used to and the one I had just experienced. One thing was definitely clear; a
good karaoke experience doesn’t happen by accident.
For that feeling of community and closeness to manifest, we all have to agree on what we want out of
the experience and behave in a way that fosters our chosen outcome. Beyond choosing the right karaoke
song, we have to agree that we actually do want to welcome everyone in the room to the stage, that we
want to applaud their efforts, to sing along, and to give them our attention.
I think this is true for more than just karaoke. Building a community requires intentional action – not just
a wish and a yearning for connection. And a lot of these intentional actions might be things we want to
do anyways, but some of the more foundational actions needed might not be initially desirable even
though they align with our goals.
As Unitarian Universalists and as members of UCM, we choose to build a community within this
congregation that is committed to compassion, respect and justice. And, as some of you may know all
too well, maintaining a community with these kinds of lofty ideals can be quite the undertaking.
This morning let us reflect with gratitude on the labour of love that holds our community together.
Before we move on, I have a message from the Caring Committee I’ve been asked to share.
One of our members, Briggitte Twomy, has recently had a mild heart attack. She is resting at home with
her husband Bert and would not like any visitors or calls at this time. However, if you wish to send a card
she would appreciate it.

Chalice Lighting
Let us now turn towards our time together and invite Douglas Hill to come up to the front and light our
chalice. Together, we kindle this flame symbolizing our co-creation of community in this place made
beautiful by years of love. And please say together the words in your Order of Service, words familiar to
many and also renewed, and including the DNA mission of this congregation:
          We kindle this light in celebration of the life we share,
          as we gather to deepen our spirit, nurture community, and
          act for an equitable, sustainable world.

Song
The first song I’d like to introduce this morning is Don’t Wanna Fight by Alabama Shakes.
(lyrics: https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/alabamashakes/dontwannafight.html)

Call to Celebration
We come together this morning because within us there is something that knows we need more
than we can find in our aloneness.
We know—instinctively, in the depths of ourselves—that we need others for this journey of life even
though we also guard our independence and individuality quite jealously.
So let us celebrate all that makes us unique yet also all that makes us one, and let us dream
dreams of all that we can do… together.
Silent Joys and Sorrows
No matter our privilege, no matter our histories and identities, no matter our stories of belonging,
we are all subject to the inherent impermanence of our material existence. May the fact of our
shared human condition foster empathy, compassion, and mutual loving support. May the
transient and ephemeral nature of life compel us to savor every moment.
At this time, I’d like to take a moment to pause and silently acknowledge the joys and sorrows that
each of you may be bringing with you to today’s service.
Thank you for joining us here this morning.

Reading
For our contemplation this morning, I have two readings, the first is a poem by Joseph Fasano,
which you might be familiar with is called For a Student Who Used AI to Write a Paper.

Now I let it fall back
in the grasses.
I hear you. I know
this life is hard now.
I know your days are precious
on this earth.
But what are you trying
to be free of?
The living? The miraculous
task of it?
Love is for the ones who love the work.

Reading
Hear now these words from Deidre Sullivan, written originally for NPR in 2005.

I believe in always going to the funeral. My father taught me that.
The first time he said it directly to me, I was 16 and trying to get out of going to calling hours for Miss
Emerson, my old fifth grade math teacher. I did not want to go. My father was unequivocal. “Dee,” he
said, “you’re going. Always go to the funeral. Do it for the family.”
So, my dad waited outside while I went in. It was worse than I thought it would be: I was the only kid
there. When the condolence line deposited me in front of Miss Emerson’s shell-shocked parents, I
stammered out, “Sorry about all this,” and stalked away. But, for that deeply weird expression of
sympathy delivered 20 years ago, Miss Emerson’s mother still remembers my name and always
says hello with tearing eyes.
That was the first time I went un-chaperoned, but my parents had been taking us kids to funerals
and calling hours as a matter of course for years. By the time I was 16, I had been to five or six
funerals. I remember two things from the funeral circuit: bottomless dishes of free mints and my
father saying on the ride home, “You can’t come in without going out, kids. Always go to the funeral.”
Sounds simple — when someone dies, get in your car and go to calling hours or the funeral. That, I
can do. But I think a personal philosophy of going to funerals means more than that.
“Always go to the funeral” means that I have to do the right thing when I really, really don’t feel like it.
I have to remind myself of it when I could make some small gesture, but I don’t really have to and I
definitely don’t want to. I’m talking about those things that represent only inconvenience to me, but
the world to the other guy. You know, the painfully under-attended birthday party. The hospital visit
during happy hour. The Shiva call for one of my ex’s uncles. In my humdrum life, the daily battle
hasn’t been good versus evil. It’s hardly so epic. Most days, my real battle is doing good versus
doing nothing.
In going to funerals, I’ve come to believe that while I wait to make a grand heroic gesture, I should
just stick to the small inconveniences that let me share in life’s inevitable, occasional calamity.
On a cold April night three years ago, my father died a quiet death from cancer. His funeral was on a
Wednesday, middle of the workweek. I had been numb for days when, for some reason, during the
funeral, I turned and looked back at the folks in the church. The memory of it still takes my breath
away. The most human, powerful and humbling thing I’ve ever seen was a church at 3:00 on a
Wednesday full of inconvenienced people who believe in going to the funeral.

Offertory and Song
We are a religious community because we share meaning, identity, and purpose.
We sustain our religious community because we share our financial resources.
Like all Unitarian Universalist congregations, we voluntarily gather as a people, supporting
ourselves without dependence on any higher authority. Giving is a spiritual practice, a way by which
we proclaim our love or each other, our wish to remain together as a community, and our faith that
our presence in the world matters.
Notice the QR Code on your Order of Service. You can use your smart phone to go directly to the
giving link on our UCM webpage. Or you can place your check or cash in the basket. Please use an
envelope if you want a tax receipt.
As you enjoy the offertory, consider your monetary gift to our community, that we may grow and
flourish, increasingly able to spread compassion and make justice in the larger world. We are
grateful for all you can give.
The collection will now be joyfully received.

Song: This Town – Kacey Musgraves
(lyrics: https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/kaceymusgraves/thistown.html)

Homily
Labi Siffre wrote our prelude song, Bless the Telephone in 1971. I love how the song captures the warm
feeling of knowing someone is thinking about you and of having someone to reach out to. In an article a
few years ago he said “I’ve always taken love very seriously. Not just what it is, but how disastrous it
would be without it.” As an openly gay, atheist, Black musician hitting the height of his careers in the 70s,
his experience of love and of being accepted could likely be a complicated thing.
Love and acceptance are both the foundational pillars and the rewards we reap when we find a way to
join together in community and when we form relationships. It’s something I hope we are all able to feel
when we join together as a congregation.
But relationship can be hard and so can building community – maybe that’s why we describe
communities as something to be built, instead of something that appears out of nowhere.
In addition to love and acceptance, there is another equally important pillar of community – shared
values.
As Unitarian Universalists we value compassion and acceptance, we value the interdependent web of
which we are a part, and we share the goals of world peace and liberty.
As members of UCM, we share a desire for our congregation to be a welcoming, respectful and warm.
We affirm that all human beings, in all their identities are deserving of dignity and welcome here.
But I think we also agree that not all human behaviours are welcome or can be welcomed here.
There are behaviours which clash with our shared values of justice, and equity. Behaviours that oppose
our desires to end oppression and dismantle racism within ourselves and our institutions. There are
behaviours which do not respect or acknowledge each person’s inherent worth and dignity.
And it is our agreement that these behaviours cannot be welcomed here that has, through our right of
conscience and the use of the democratic process, born our Covenant of Right Relations. A covenant we
have affirmed and continue to affirm since its creation in 2016.
In Kacey Musgrave’s words, although maybe not with here reasoning, this town really is too small to be
mean.
Acting to maintain our community and our wonderful, welcoming congregation takes work – it can be a
fight. Building relations with one of another is a fight all over the world right now – with the chaos of war
and politics, with growing feelings of isolation and loneliness. There seem to be weekly trending think
pieces about people turning to ChatGPT or other AI platforms to find connection instead of navigating
the complex task of finding, joining and building human communities.
And I sympathize. I understand the urge. But, like a teacher begging their students to do the hard work
of learning instead of letting AI write their paper for them, I often feel like begging these people to turn
away from the screen and do the hard work of human connection. Love is for the ones who love the
work.
And building a community founded on the values we share can be work. But it’s work I’m ready to do.
Because “always go to the funeral” means that I have to do the right thing when I really, really don’t feel
like it.
And I know, and maybe you know too, that this will mean that along with the fun stuff we get to do
together, there will be necessary actions – like setting boundaries – that might feel uncomfortable, or
hard to navigate. There may be moments of awkward interaction or difficult decisions.
And – because around here we all look out for each other – many of you may have already been part of
difficult decisions, you may have already acted to set boundaries, and you may have navigated many
uncomfortable moments as members of this congregation.
You may still be fighting to maintain our loving and welcoming community. You may feel, sometimes,
that this fight is never ending. You may start to tire – you may have already tired.
But I hope you know that your fight is not in vain. I hope you know that because of your fight, each time
we gather we are able reap the rewards of love and acceptance in this congregation and we are able to
share in community.
And I hope, in our gathering, you feel my gratitude and the gratitude of this congregation, for your
labour of love.

Musical Response
The final song I’d like to play this morning is Birds of a Feather by Billie Eilish.
(lyrics: https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/billieeilish/birdsofafeather.html)

*Chalice Release (#456 grey hymnal)
As we conclude out time of worship this morning, let us make a promise that we will remain
committed to sustained and robust relationship with each other, to the vision of our faith
community, to the values of Unitarian Universalism and to the interdependent web holding us all.

          As I extinguish the chalice, please say the words in your order of service.
          We extinguish this flame, but not the light of truth, the warmth of community, or the fire of
          commitment. These we carry with us until we meet again.

*Singing Benediction (#402 gray hymnal)
Friends let us join in a final song together, words are in your order of service. Rise in the way best for
you, hold hands or touch elbows as is best for you.

          From you I receive, to you I give, together we share, and by this we live. (2x)

Friendship Hour