Today the Russian army has invaded Ukraine. This was the most slow-motion invasion I have even been aware of—the whole world has watched this tragedy unfold slowly over the past weeks, giving it a sense of inevitability and impending doom and helplessness. In the face of such a bold invasion, such a blatant disregard for international law and national sovereignty, one must condemn the Russian army and the military commander giving the orders, Vladimir Putin.
 
But this is not a political game of winners and losers. Bombs are exploding and people are losing their homes and their lives. This is a human tragedy, one that must make us feel sadness for our fellow human beings and fear that this could continue to happen – in Ukraine today, in Poland or Panama or the United States tomorrow.
 
This morning I was attending the monthly meeting of Unitarian Universalist ministers from across Michigan. About a dozen of us were gathered for the virtual meeting. One minister had a question for the rest of us: what did we plan to do in response to the situation in Ukraine?
 
What can one do?
 
A war is starting in a country half way around the world from here. The place is far away. The leaders and diplomats who have any influence in the situation – even the American ones—are remote in their halls of power. What can one do?
 
In the face of war, in the face of military aggression, in the face of illegal use of deadly force anywhere in the world, one must use one’s voice. One of my UU minister colleagues on the call this morning suggested using the hymn, “This Is My Song,” in worship as an appropriate thing to respond to this situation. These are the words to that hymn, written by Lloyd Stone:
 
This is my song, O God of all the nations,
a song of peace for lands afar and mine.
This is my home, the country where my heart is;
here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine;
but other hearts in other lands are beating
with hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.
 
 My country's skies are bluer than the ocean,
and sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine;
but other lands have sunlight too, and clover,
and skies are everywhere as blue as mine.
O hear my song, thou God of all the nations,
a song of peace for their land and for mine.
 
Inspired, I posted a video of the song and my prayer for Ukraine on Facebook today. My minister friend did the same. If prayer and protest and song are the only tools we have to condemn war, then those are the tools we must use.
 
PRAYER:
May the people of Ukraine be safe. May the children and the old ones be safe from harm. May this violence end as soon as possible, with as little bloodshed as possible.
 
May all people unite in prayer, in protest, in voice and in action to end war and military aggression everywhere on this planet.
 
May it be so.
 
Rev. Andrew Frantz
February 24, 2022

“…and when couples fight their troubles it unites their hearts;
when the good times roll, they can drift apart.
I’ll still be loving you—no matter what goes right.”
 
The quote above is from a song called “No Matter What Goes Right” by a wonderful and little-known band called Trout Fishing in America. It turns upside down the familiar idea of hard times uniting people and considers instead the unusual promise that we can stick together no matter how good the times get.
 
I’m thinking about this in the face of dramatically good COVID news this week. Cases and hospitalizations are as low as they have been since around September, and falling fast. I’m so used to bad news in this pandemic that I don’t really know what to do with good news. I wonder if you feel the same way. Do I celebrate? Do I change my behavior and do things I’ve been waiting to do? Do I listen to the pessimistic voice within that says it will just get worse again soon?
 
Rationally, I say that now, on the downslope of the COVID curve, is the time to get together while we can. The COVID task force and the Board of Trustees agree, and they have lifted the congregation’s restrictions on gathering in person: starting this week we will be back to the limited in-person gathering that was allowed in December. If the virus is going to have ups and downs, it makes sense to (wisely, not recklessly) use the downs to our advantage in our individual lives and in our institutions. It makes sense to get together while we can—and to still wear our masks.
 
Emotionally, the virus has another reality. I am so battered by this pandemic that I don’t dare to hope very far. I want to allow myself to feel some actual rejoicing in this good news—when is the last time we had good news on the COVID numbers? And it’s hard. In this I recognize the long-term effect of trauma here. I’ve been traumatized by this virus, as we all have. I imagine that it’s natural for victims of trauma to be muted in their joy. I will be gentle with myself and allow joy and hope to come in their time.
 
PRAYER:
God of life and love, Earth Goddess, Great Spirit:
I ask your blessing and mercy. May I pause to recognize the good news that is before me today. The virus is receding. Maybe not forever, maybe not to levels low enough to be “safe,” but today it is receding.
Let there be joy and let the joy be mixed with the sorrow of how many deaths and other costs have been exacted by this virus. If we have joy, it is the joy of the survivors, lucky to be alive and sad about those who have been lost.
God, Spirit: grant us, the survivors, our full measure of joy and of hope.
May it be so.
 
Rev. Andrew Frantz
February 17, 2022

This time of year for me represents the dreary part of winter, but there is also an important milestone in our journey through the year. Last week was the half-way point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox—the time known as the Pagan holiday of Imbolc.
 
Imbolc traditionally is the secret start of spring. In the UU Fellowship I was part of in Ohio, one of the Pagan leaders would tell a story for Imbolc that envisioned ancient people huddling in their dwellings at Imbolc and seeing signs of the coming spring in the pregnant goats and sheep that they kept as livestock.
 
Imbolc is associated with Brighid, the Hearth Goddess of Ireland. It is a time for fire rituals and new beginnings, much like the fire ceremony we perform at New Year’s. What does this time of year represent for you? How do you notice and mark the passage of time, from the darkest day in December to the longest day in June? What new beginnings are you aware of now?
 
Imbolc has its modern descendent in our culture as Groundhog Day. It’s interesting to me how ancient Pagan holidays became modern ones: Yule became Christmas; Ostara became Easter. These are major Christian religions near the major Pagan holidays at the solstice and the equinox. Imbolc descended as Groundhog Day (around February 1st) and Beltane descended as May Day (around May 1st)  These holdays are more clearly earth-centered, as is the Pagan tradition itself. The 8 Pagan holidays represent 8 equal parts of the year, our journey in time and space.
 
May this time of Imbolc refresh you in the presence of winter with its gifts, and the promise of spring to come in its due time.
 
PRAYER
Goddess Brighid, Goddess of the hearth and the fire, bless the homes of all who dwell in winter. May warmth be present at the hearth of every family and every person. May those who are cold find a place by the fire.
 
Bless our new beginnings in this time; bless the turning of the year from darkness to light.
 
Blessed be.
 
Rev. Andrew Frantz
February 10, 2022

I am spending this week at a minister’s conference and retreat, where my intentions are embracing community, welcoming growth and connecting to the divine.
 
The gathered community here that I’m embracing is 130 Unitarian Universalist ministers and religious education professionals. We are the ones who were able and willing to travel and to gather in person (many more join us every day virtually). I thought long and hard weighing the risk of travelling versus the benefit of being in person, and made the choice to travel using all the COVID precautions at my disposal. This is the first in-person gathering of this kind since the pandemic began. The connection with fellow ministers from across the country is satisfying, grounding, and at times challenging. My colleagues reassure me that I am loved, they inspire me, and they call forth the best in me. Together we struggle to find the best way forward for this life-giving faith.
 
Welcoming growth here comes in the form of challenging messages I hear in our daily worship services, keynote speeches, and small group conversations. I grow in awareness of the breadth and depth of our UU movement; I grow in new ideas for worship and operations of our congregation; I grow personally through workshops and spiritual practice.
 
My connection to the divine on this conference and retreat is facilitated by the natural beauty around me. The conference is in San Diego, where it is warm enough to have our meals outside and to experience the plants and trees and water around us. Sunrise was beautiful this morning and the mountains are visible in the distance. I have extra time daily for meditation, sacred reading, and I am having my first experience of the energy practice of Qi Gong. The divine is present within me, between us, and beyond us, and I remind myself of that presence this week.
 
PRAYER:
Great Spirit, I see your beauty in the snow-sprinkled pine trees of Michigan and the sunny waters of Mission Bay in California. I hear your voice in the wind, I feel your energy through me and I call that energy Love.
 
Bless this gathering of ministers, hospital chaplains, prison chaplains, community ministers, social justice ministers, and religious educators. May the virtual and in-person gathering strengthen our best intentions and practices for the beloved faith of Unitarian Universalism.
 
May all be well. May greater love flow through me, through you, through all living and non-living things. May Love bless the world.
 
Amen.
 
Rev. Drew Frantz
February 3, 2022