Church of the Larger Fellowship UU Worship

We are called to create communities where all people can thrive. For this to happen, we need to be able to bring our whole selves, unapologetically. Our identities, our backgrounds, and our accomplishments, and also our struggles, our mistakes, and our places of brokenness. Unitarian Universalist theology creates a space for this to happen. Will we make it possible?

What do we owe each other? Not in theory. Right now, in this country, in this moment — when people are being taken from their children, their homes, their languages, and placed behind walls designed to make the rest of us forget they exist. This sermon is about the covenant that follows us into the wilderness. Bio (feel free to edit): Rev. JeKaren Bell (she/her) is an ordained and fellowshipped Unitarian Universalist minister, certified Death and Grief Doula, artist, and poet with more than fifteen years as a religious professional. Rooted in African earth-based and Womanist traditions, her work sits at the intersection of grief, transformation, and communal care. She is the founder of The After Practice, offering guidance for leaders and communities navigating loss, conflict, and institutional change. She currently serves the Unitarian Universalist Association as Co-Director of the New UU Communities Fund. She is married with two bonus kids and two dogs.

It has been 63 years since Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. handwrote one of the most famous letters in United States history. We will read excerpts from the letter and consider how far we have and have not come as a country.

In the West, we are socialized by the logic of empire to understand identity as a static or fixed self. However, as embodied beings, we change and grow from every lived experience, emotion, and life lesson.  What happens when we pay close attention to the various selves we have been and are becoming?

Many years ago, I heard a line in the movie Kung Fu Panda, "You meet your destiny on the road you take to avoid it." I learned later that this sentiment is attributed to French poet Jean de La Fontaine. We will explore what this means for our lives and our communities.

Twenty years ago this week, I brought a group to volunteer in New Orleans, and began a spiritual journey of understanding resurrection in a new way. On this Easter Sunday, I will wrestle queerly with the notion that what is dead might once again live.

The phrase "it's easier to wear slippers than to try and carpet the world," has stuck with me since first hearing it many years ago. The phrase is a way to embody our role in movement work. This week, we'll explore the ways we can wear slippers and impact what we can locally as a way to keep from falling into despair at the state of the world.

In the Northern Hemisphere, this weekend marks the beginning of spring. In this service, we will connect our spiritual journeys to the Earth, honoring the green shoots of new life that herald the beginning of something beautiful.

Using Grover’s fear in The Monster at the End of This Book, the sermon explores how fear often comes from the stories we tell ourselves about what lies ahead. The message reflects on courage, curiosity, and the spiritual practice of continuing to turn the page even when uncertainty is present.

In the Christian Scripture of Luke, Jesus is asked, “Who is my neighbor?” We will be paying attention to the people in our neighborhoods--physical and metaphorical--so that we might better respond to them with love.

Join us this week as we explore the importance of communal rituals like worship in creating the sacred bonds of belonging.

Regarded as one of the founders of gospel music, Rev. Charles Albert Tindley, an African American Methodist minister, composed the songs, “The Storm is Passing Over” and “By and By” over 100 years ago, and they continue to sing to us. In witnessing the rise of fascism and authoritarianism, how do we keep journeying toward a world of greater acceptance and affirmation? Perhaps Rev. Tindley’s example of generosity can inspire us all.

A close friend of mine described death as "not the end, only a change of address." This has stuck with me and on this weekend where most people celebrate love, we will honor death and the reason we grieve is indicative of how much we love.

What does it mean to cultivate generosity of spirit? The practices of generosity, gratitude, hope, and interdependence can be part of our embodiment of resilience, especially in difficult times.

The Pale Blue Dot is a photograph of Earth taken on Feb. 14, 1990, by NASA’s Voyager 1 spacecraft. Carl Sagan wrote about this image and its implications for humanity. We will explore what it means to be human on a pale blue dot floating through space. “Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there-on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam. The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves. The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand. It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.” ― Carl Sagan, Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space

When powers and principalities do their worst, how do we receive and respond to the call of love?

Poet Nikita Gill, in a blessing of a poem for the beginning of 2026, tells us that “when love comes knocking, do not doubt it. Instead open the door with warmth and let it in.” Sometimes, love comes knocking from unexpected sources. We will experience that love and allow it to challenge us to practice our faith in deeper and more liberatory ways. The Words of Welcome from our Beloveds in Newton, Iowa: We gather, as one community with many beliefs, following many paths, all with unknown destinations. As one, we seek to be treated fairly. • Justice is possible only with love for one another. The heart in your chest pulses with life as does mine. • Equity in our humanity is the design of nature. Each step we take on our journey allows us to explore who we are. • Transformation stops only when we refuse to advance. As believers in a multitude of thought, we embrace the challenges of acceptance. • Pluralism is celebrated through respect for individuality. Through recognition of the effects of our actions we govern our words and deeds. • Interdependence allows strength in numbers with caution toward selfishness. In the spirit of unity, we vow to give as much as we receive. • Generosity is measured in thought, attention, gift and assistance. Every soul who seeks our community will be given the opportunity to become the masterpiece that nature intended. With this vow we open our hearts to the love of one another in this place.

As is our custom to begin the year, our tech crew is on holiday break. Donté and Aisha will come to you live through Zoom, sharing a less-formal worship experience on our monthly theme of Love.

Come conjure and experience joy with us. Please bring things with you that bring you joy: food/beverages, activities like knitting or puzzles, etc as we listen to music that has been popular in CLF worship, develop a joy list, and commit to make joy a priority in the next year.

Here on the longest night of the year in the Northern Hemisphere, we will find joy in the darkness. Come celebrate Yule with us!

I was recently on a podcast to talk about dating divorced and over 50. In this sermon, I'll share the ways UUism has shaped who and how I am in the world.

The state of the world feels dire, so isn’t it time to get serious? Author Atena O. Danner talks about why cultivating pleasure in a time of depravity is among the most important things that people of conscience can do right now. Atena O. Danner is a cultural worker who imagines Black liberation, engaged in boundless curiosity. As a poet, singer, and visual artist, Atena’s work encompasses kitchen-table specificity and folk story relatability, covering topics including neurodiversity, human connection, and collective liberation. Atena is also a facilitator, a speaker and occasional worship designer/sermon giver in UU communities around the United States. As an organizer and activist, she has worked to incorporate struggles for justice into her life as a caregiver in a family of complex needs while also writing and publishing in journals, anthologies, and her own book of poetry: Incantations for Rest: Poems, Mediations & Other Magic, Skinner House Books' InSpirit 2021 volume. She is a Roots. Wounds. Words. fellow, an Anaphora Writers Residency fellow, an alum of the Hurston/Wright Writers Week and of Immersion Writers Africa. In their home north of Chicago, near the traditional homelands of the people of the Council of Three Fires and of the Peoria, Menominee, Miami and Ho-Chunk nations, Atena lives with her partner, pets and two free Black children. Her poetry collection, ‘Incantations for Rest’ was awarded a Nautilus Silver Award for poetry in 2023.

In this service, we’ll explore redemption through the lenses of abolition and harm reduction — not as a clean arc, but as a communal, messy, and ongoing process. We’ll look at how people and places dismissed by empire often carry profound wisdom about care, resilience, and transformation. In these overlooked spaces— in the world, in ourselves— grace becomes visible, and new paths toward collective liberation take root.

We will look to the ancient and current wisdom of the Haudenosaunee people as we nurture gratitude for each other and for the beings with whom we share this planet. We are reminded by this wisdom that all flourishing is mutual.

Currently, many of us are experiencing days that are darker due to the seasons of fall and winter. Typically, in these seasons there are numerous celebrations and observations that center the “return of the light.” This week, I ask us to reconsider our relationship to the dark as I assert that the dark is the place we find redemption.

If our faith teaches us that every person is inherently worthy, it means that no one is disposable. How does this change the way we gather, live, and advocate for justice? How does it change how we approach redemption and salvation?

It has been over two years since the start of the genocide in Gaza and the world has been grieving the continued loss of life and potential of thousands upon thousands of Palestinians. Together we will honor the lives lost and hold in our hearts prayers for an end to the horror and destruction.

Description: Job's wife is vilified for her anguished, irreverent response to tragedy in her household. But what if we listened more closely to her challenge? What if, instead of avoiding or ignoring the pain of loss, we allowed it to open a path to a fuller, more courageous faith? Reflection question: It has been said that a broken heart is an open heart tenderized to love even more deeply. What's breaking your heart in these times? What losses have you avoided grieving? What haven't you said to God for fear of rebuke? What support do you need to tell God the truth?

Often when we discuss grief, we are being encouraged to identify, acknowledge and/or accept the layers and cycles of grief that we are experiencing. But how do we engage this subject when we are the cause of another person’s grief? This week. I will share a story about a time when I was a source of grief.

The Rev. Meg Barnhouse once said, "I believe in the inherent worth and dignity of every person, not every idea." In what ways can we lean into affirming each other and maintaining the humanity of all as we work to dismantle systems of harm.

Arundhati Roy, in her novel The God of Small Things, describes trauma, grief, and loss as leaving holes in the universe--shaped like the things we have lost. When we sew up those holes, we leave a mark behind even as we restore our fabric to wholeness. How do we honor those marks and help each other sew up our holes of grief?

Lamentation is a ritualized approach to grief. It creates opportunities for us to acknowledge, reflect upon and say goodbye to the piles of rubble we leave behind; our many unmet expectations, dreams and desires.

How do progressive religious folks maintain their faith in a time of monsters? This was the question posed during a symposium in Seattle recently. I will share my own reflections and learning on how we keep the faith in a time of monsters.

Can lament over the suffering all around us be our hope? Can we express lament without getting stuck there? We seek to build a religious community where that lament is welcome as part of a cycle of healing, growth, and action.

So much talk about accountability focuses on our accountability to others but how are we accountable to ourselves. . .our values. . . our flaws. . . our visions. . .our desires? How do we honor the “sound of the genuine” in us, our embodied knowing that is beyond words? Rev. Donté's questions to think about: Why are you on this path of life ? What are your patterns of dissatisfaction with the path ? What is Missing on this path? What are you going to do about it ?

When we center the needs and care of the most vulnerable among us, we help all of us. When we reject the idea that anyone is unworthy, we refuse to let systems of oppression flourish. We are faced with a moment in time right now. Humanity can center each other, the planet, life and love or we can ignore the reality that our destinies are intertwined at our peril.

We see the atrocities everywhere--starving children, bombed cities, concentration camps. People take to social media and the news talking about "toxic empathy," as if there could be such a thing. It feels like we are losing our humanity in real time. How do we turn the tide?

“The Circle Is Still Open” is a message about grief, covenant, and accountability as sacred practices rooted in love, truth-telling, and community. Through personal story and collective memory, it calls us to reject silence and systems of harm, and to stay in the work of justice by holding one another with care, courage, and integrity. Reflection Question: How might your understanding of accountability change if you see it not as judgment, but as a practice of love and healing?

The beginning of August is celebrated in European paganism as the beginning of the harvest season, known as Lammas or Lughnasadh. We will celebrate the ways in which the Earth sustains our lives, and ponder what accountability means in this context.

In a world that often asks us to wear masks or shrink parts of ourselves, integrity calls us to live with wholeness and authenticity. This service explores what it means to align our inner truth with our outer lives—and how that alignment can be a path to healing, liberation, and sacred belonging.

As Unitarian Universalists, we care deeply about matters of justice. However, in a world where the chaos and evils of Empire are becoming more and more apparent to many, how do we confront and transform overlapping and interlocking systems of structural evil, while fostering the integrity of our fullness? Join us this week as we explore how valuing sacred little things can offer us a new perspective on social transformation and personal formation. Reading suggestion: Emergent Strategy: Shaping Change, Changing Worlds by adrienne maree brown

How does our relationship with the sacred call us to integrity? Does wholeness simply require us to be ourselves, or is there something more involved? We will explore the dimension of integrity that connects us to something beyond ourselves.

Over the years, and in different congregations I’ve served, I have received feedback that I was “too political” and not “spiritual enough.” I will name that spirituality absent recognition of the politics of the day is disassociation. We can be spiritual as we navigate the challenges of our times. The invitation is to engage in grounded spirituality that feeds the soul while not denying what is happening in the world.

What is the relationship between story-telling, meaning-making, memory and thriving? Join us this week as we explore remembering and reclaiming our past as a liberative practice.

We are called to bear witness to the lives of our incarcerated beloveds. Through their words and their songs, written with Unlocking Harmony, we will be entrusted with a sacred gift of giving voice to those our society makes voiceless.

The Unitarian Universalist tradition of the Flower Ceremony (also called Flower Communion or Flower Festival) was introduced in 1923 Prague by the Revs. Norbert and Maja Čapek to celebrate the beginning of summer. It soon became a symbol of the beauty found in diverse community, which was already under attack in Europe at the time. We will celebrate a CLF version of the flower ceremony and use the courage of the Čapeks to guide us together.

In this soul-deep service, I’ll speak the truth of my own grief—of what it means to love someone whose memory is fading, and to keep remembering anyway. Together, we’ll honor the tenderness of memory, the ache of forgetting, and the fierce, faithful ways we carry love forward.

The concept of moral injury is a phenomenon of distress when people witness horrors that contradict one's deeply held beliefs. Humans in the past few decades have been experiencing moral injury when we witness the horrors in Gaza and the horrors here in the U.S. with seemingly no way to stop them. We will explore ways to maintain our sense of self, justice and the will to continue fighting for a kind and equitable world.