What is Faith Rocket?
Faith Rocket is a theme-based ministry resource available to UU congregations. It has been developed by the Church of the Larger Fellowship (the UUA’s largest congregation which functions as an online fellowship composed mostly of persons who are not within driving distance of a traditional UU congregation) and Launchpad (a multi-site and church-planting ministry promoting innovative ways to create, grow, and develop new UU congregations).
Faith Rocket provides congregations with a wide range of materials to take ministry beyond the traditional Sunday morning service. While it does include worship materials based on a monthly theme, it also includes resources for small groups, for religious education, and for social media. Social media resources include quote memes, podcasts and YouTube videos, and thoughtful essays by notable UUs.
For those of our members and friends who use Facebook, watch for Faith Rocket materials on High Street Church’s group page. If you’re not yet a member on our group page, got to https://bit.ly/2KnLHm3 to request to be added as a member.
The Faith Rocket theme for August is WONDER.
No object is mysterious. The mystery is your eye. (Elizabeth Bowen)
We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are. (Anais Nin)
Look at everything as though you were seeing it either for the first or last time. Then your time on earth will be filled with glory. (Betty Smith)
It is more important to pay the way for the child to want to know than to put him on a diet of facts he is not ready to assimilate. (Rachel Carson)
Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them. (Marcus Aurelius)
The whole of life lies in the verb seeing. (Teilhard de Chardin)
I think us here to wonder, myself. To wonder. To ask. And that in wondering bout the big things and asking bout the big things, you learn about the little ones, almost by accident. But you never know nothing more about the big things than you start out with. The more I wonder, the more I love. (Alice Walker)
Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens. (Carl Jung)
I would rather have a mind opened by wonder than one closed by belief. (Gerry Spence)
Resources for the Week of August 25 – 31
This Week’s Reflection Question:
Podcast: “God Is No Noun” by Glen Thomas Ridout
Videocast: “The Miracle of Rebirth,” CLF Weekly Worship 1 April 2018
God Is No Noun
by Glen Thomas Rideout, Director of Music, First Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Ann Arbor, Michigan
god is no noun.
and certainly not an adjective. god is at least a verb,
and even that shrinks her.
god is not so much a woman
as she resides in the improbable hope of brown mothers. god is not so much a man
as he is at work in the memory of my grandfather’s laugh.
god is not trans.
god swims in the tears of the one who sees her real self,
at long last,
in the bathroom mirror.
god is not black; neither is he white.
god is wading in the contradiction of songs from slave shacks. and i have seen god in the alabaster smiles of children at play.
we’re getting michelangelo all wrong.
god is not the bearded one surrounded by angels, floating over the sistine. he is not adam with his muscled back pressing the earth.
god is the closing inch of space between their reaching fingers.
don’t believe for a moment that god is catholic. for god’s sake, he isn’t even human.
have you heard the wood thrush when the sun glistens the huron? can you see the flowers, how they speak to bees without a word?
still, god is no spring blossom, no wood thrush. god is neither the sun nor the bee.
god is what you see in the blossom. god is when you hear the river
and suddenly discover how much of it is part of you.
to be clear, god is not you.
god is somewhere in the 14 billion years which have come to mean that you are. god is, after all, at least a verb.
she is neither pharaoh’s rod nor moses’ staff.
we must be the ones to cease our slavery.
she is not interested in blame, neither does she offer praise. truth, gratitude are ours to breathe.
she will not have your answers.
she is too large for answers.
she dances too wildly to be fastened to them, and answers are nouns anyway.
god is at least a verb,
twirling in the radiant reds of spring blossoms, singing in the rare silences between rapid opinions, attending the tears of dark-skinned deaths, learning in tiny, alabaster smiles.
god is waiting in the space between fingers that might connect. he is waiting for us
to stop naming her.
she is waiting for us to see all of him.
god is waiting to be un-shrunk
in conversation with