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Walking in Music -tbd
Welcome (Introduce Amy) - Congregation Rep
Call into the Circle of Love and Justice/Land Acknowledgement - The Reverend Amy Beltaine
Chalice Lighting* - Worship Associate
*Hymn - “Way to the Well” by Starhawk - AV
We need each other, and so we come to this place
To work and dance and laugh and cry and think.
We call ourselves a religious community,
Not because this place is in itself holy ground,
But because what we do here and say here
And are here make it so.
So let it be.
Time for All Ages - “Have You Filled a Bucket Today?” by Carol McCloud, David Messing (Illustrator) or Imbolc: Queen of Four Fires, from The Storyteller's Goddess, by Carolyn McVickar Edwards. - Amy
Pastoral Moment/Prayer - Amy
Pastoral Hymn* - TBD
Responsive Reading* - “Water Flows” by Thich Nhat Hanh - AV
Homily I-Brigid’s Sacred Well- The Reverend Amy Beltaine
*Interlude - “(Living) Like a Tree” by Betsy Rose - body prayer AV
Homily II - Groundhogs Day
*Blessing Hymn - “Waters of Bliss” by Abby Spinner McBride -VIDEO
Offering - Worship Associate
Offertory - tbd
Chalice Extinguishing* - Worship Associate
We release this flame, but not the light of truth.
We release this flame, but not the warmth of this community.
We release this flame, but not the fire of our commitment.
These we will carry in our hearts until we meet again.
- Words by Elizabeth Selle Jones, Adapted
Benediction - Amy
Walking out music
**Suggestions for HYMNS
Gift of Love (Hymn 34)
Though winter winds yet blow and freeze,
The sap is stirring in the trees;
New lambs are bleating on the glen,
And cubs now warm within the den.
The fire in the forge ablaze
Proclaims the Lady Bridgit’s praise;
Deep in her well, the waters flow,
And life bides safe in ground below.
The plow and seed beside the hearth
Await the turning of the earth,
So bless the candles that we bring
And hearts prepare to greet the spring.
**Suggestions for PERFORMED (or recorded) Music
*Suggestions for READINGS (chalice lighting, extinguishing, etc.)
Chalice Lighting*- responsive reading by Addae Krabba - We hear the Heart Beat of Mother Earth
Call to 4 directions for chalice lighting: from Julie Conrady
East - Hail & Welcome East, Element of Aire. We ask that with Bride you bring to our Imbolc celebration new beginnings, inspiration and communication to carry our words on the winds. So mote it be.
South - Hail and Welcome South! Element of FIRE! We ask that with Briga you bring to our Imbolc celebration the Sacred Flame that cannot be extinguished for it burns eternal in our hearts.
West - Hail and Welcome West! Element of Water! We ask that with Breed you bring to our Imbolc your flowing waters of Healing that we may be renewed and refreshed by them.
North - Hail & Welcome North, Element of Earth. We ask that with Gran Brigitte you bring to our Imbolc the death of winter and cold so that we may find Spring, its rebirth, healing and fertility within You. So Mote it Be.
Guardians of the North, Powers of endurance and strength, guided by Earth, we thank you for watching over our rites. May you be forever blessed.
Guardians of the West, Powers of passion and emotion, guided by Water, we thank you for watching over our rites. May you be forever blessed.
Guardians of the South, Powers of energy and will, guided by Fire, we thank you for watching over our rites. May you be forever blessed.
Guardians of the East, Powers of knowledge and wisdom, guided by Air, we thank you for watching over our rites. May you be forever blessed.
Marge Piercy: https://www.poeticous.com/marge-piercy/winter-promises
Blessing of candles for Imbolc by Kendyl Gibbons
Blessed be the sacred fire that lives deep within each of us;
May we cherish its light.
Blessed be all that is contained and enclosed.
Blessed be this time of isolation, so that we may share health.
Blessed be the future that grows, protected, within the womb
Blessed be the milk that is prepared to nurture new life.
Brigid, ancient spirit of the Imbolc season --
Bless our hearth fires and our homes with warmth and love,
And let there be mercy for those who are without.
Bless the risk of birth, by which life continues;
Let there be pity when it goes awry, and solace for its losses.
Bless the tools of our labor, and the transforming heat of the forge;
May justice be the anvil on which our days are wrought.
Bless these candles that connect us one to another in community,
May they remind us that all flame is your flame;
That all flame is one;
That even when we are separated, we are not alone.
And from this flame of personal light and covenant community,
I kindle now the chalice of our faith heritage,
that takes its shape from the prophetic words and wisdom of many traditions,
From the human response to mystery and wonder,
to reason and compassion,
to the infinite abundance of divine creativity and love,
and to the unending cycles of renewal and change in nature.
May it stand as a beacon to all who seek to know the fullness of life.
Imbolc by Kenyl Gibbons
It’s the time of milk, and birth;
Herbs, and the weird magic of wells –
Naturally, the goddess of hearth fire and candles.
But there is a working, and a blessing, for men as well.
The forge, too, is a contained fire,
And you will find Brigit there
In the spell of heat and metal from which a good tool is born.
Where the iron is wrought and tempered into something trusted --
A hammer, a plough share, an axe head --
A thing that moves as the worker moves
In harmony where the habits of the earth meet the human will;
The furrow turned to receive the seed, the timber dressed for building,
The marriage of upright and crossbeam that shapes shelter.
The long cold winter twilight is for sharpening the saw blade,
Truing the cutting edge, resetting the handle to the sledge, and the harrow.
The tools, like all created things, long for our blessing;
Warm in the presence of our respect and care,
They will labor with father and son and grandchild faithfully, in earnest --
A little oil, the touch of a whetstone, broken leather mended,
Is a reasonable sacrifice of reverence and gratitude.
While the snow lies deep, and the bear’s dreaming grows restless,
And the sap begins to stir, and the milk tightens in the udder,
Brigit, dazzle us with the quickening of new life,
The highest miracle.
But hear our prayer for these our humble tools,
that serve as we serve, unbegrudgingly,
the common purposes of the year.
When the World as We Knew It Ended
BY JOY HARJO
We were dreaming on an occupied island at the farthest edge
of a trembling nation when it went down.
Two towers rose up from the east island of commerce and touched
the sky. Men walked on the moon. Oil was sucked dry
by two brothers. Then it went down. Swallowed
by a fire dragon, by oil and fear.
It was coming.
We had been watching since the eve of the missionaries in their
long and solemn clothes, to see what would happen.
We saw it
from the kitchen window over the sink
as we made coffee, cooked rice and
potatoes, enough for an army.
We saw it all, as we changed diapers and fed
the babies. We saw it,
through the branches
of the knowledgeable tree
through the snags of stars, through
the sun and storms from our knees
as we bathed and washed
The conference of the birds warned us, as they flew over
destroyers in the harbor, parked there since the first takeover.
It was by their song and talk we knew when to rise
when to look out the window
to the commotion going on—
the magnetic field thrown off by grief.
We heard it.
The racket in every corner of the world. As
the hunger for war rose up in those who would steal to be president
to be king or emperor, to own the trees, stones, and everything
else that moved about the earth, inside the earth
and above it.
We knew it was coming, tasted the winds who gathered intelligence
from each leaf and flower, from every mountain, sea
and desert, from every prayer and song all over this tiny universe
floating in the skies of infinite
And then it was over, this world we had grown to love
for its sweet grasses, for the many-colored horses
and fishes, for the shimmering possibilities
But then there were the seeds to plant and the babies
who needed milk and comforting, and someone
picked up a guitar or ukulele from the rubble
and began to sing about the light flutter
the kick beneath the skin of the earth
we felt there, beneath us
a warm animal
a song being born between the legs of her;