This Sunday

On the Breath of Song

A service about the practice of singing for the dying led by members of Hospice Volunteer Services and the Wellspring Singers.

Rev. Barnaby Writes

From the Minister

I’m currently basking in the after-glow of my mother’s memorial service on June 16. My family is so grateful for the help of all of you who pitched in to make it a heart-warming gathering. And we appreciate that so many of you were able to be there with us to hear about her life, her art, her feminism, and her passion for justice. Read More about “From the Minister”

Save the Dates!

Spirituality & the Arts!

Join us as we begin our summer long exploration of spirituality and the arts with worship services led by special guest artists. See upcoming worship services for details. Summer Religious Exploration is available for kids–yoga, rockets, origami, games, tie dye, performing poems, and more. Nursery care available. Read More about “Spirituality & the Arts!”

Member Stories

O congregation of sensible shoes.
O buttoned plaid shirts, men in neat beards,
O matriarchs with your practical Judy Dench hair,
O, church parking lot of Prius and Volt. We

are trying. We hung Black Lives Matter
over the door, and that’s not nothing.
Nobody is saying it’s nothing. What
they’re saying is “Keep going”

Or maybe, “What next?”
If we call it Social Justice,
what next? If
we call it Radical Love.

If we call it Anti-Racism.
If we call it Covenant.
If we can say that whatever
we’ve done so far, it may not

be nothing, but it is also
not enough.

Myself, I would not know how
to go to an AME church.
I would not know where to sit
or what to wear or how to sing.

I’m sure I would be welcome, but
I am not sure that I would make it
so far as to find out. And you?
O congregation who actually sings

Kum-ba-yah. Whatever you call light,
we must shine it. Whatever you call faith,
tell it to get ready, and get ready
to lean into it. Lean forward

into the fear, the unease:
Your growing edge.
And ye shall know the fruit
is ripe when the thorns

prick your tender skin. And
it’s okay to hate it
when it makes you bleed, o friends,
o sweet earnest friends. But let us hate it

together, and let us keep going.
Let us keep going.