Flower Communion

Last Sunday was our annual Flower Communion, and it was one of the most emotional days in my seven years of ministry. To begin with, this service—which I often refer to as one of the two “high holidays” of Unitarian Universalism—is always especially joyful and meaningful to me. It celebrates the inter-connections of our congregation; it connects us to UU’s everywhere and to our shared history. I was crying with joy from the moment the procession of Fellowship elders entered the sanctuary bearing the gathered bouquets of flowers. My tears prevented me from singing the last verse of the processional hymn, but I joined the last chorus: Source of all, to thee we raise this, our hymn of grateful praise.”

And then came the Joys and Sorrows. Five different people shared the news of the death of a loved one. Two of our members had just lost their mothers on the same day—last Friday. It is always true, of course, that joy and sorrow co-exist in our gatherings. One person may be celebrating a triumph or success and the person next to them may be grieving a loss. But this Sunday morning seemed to hold more joy and more grief than ever before.

After the service was over and everyone had taken a flower to represent what the congregation gives to them, I stood on the edge of the fellowship hall during coffee hour. Like any leader would, I was scanning the room to see where I might be needed. And I had the profound realization that everyone who needed to be cared for was being cared for. Just as I had witnessed hugs and other gestures of support in the sanctuary, I saw people engaged in loving conversations everywhere I looked. My vision is that UUFCM be a diverse covenantal community of love and support—and this was one of the moments when it was true. We are a beloved community.

Later still, after consolidating the last few flowers, rinsing and putting away the many vases that held them; after returning the sacred water and stones from the altar, I sat alone in the sanctuary. There, the emotions of the day caught up with me and I wept freely, not knowing if they were tears of joy or grief. During worship I am emotionally present, but I am also in charge of holding the space—so some emotions are held in check. On Sunday afternoons I always have some internal processing to do, but this day was much stronger. When my weeping subsided, there was just one thing left to do. My spirit led me to cast open the doors of the sanctuary to Wisconsin Street and to sing the processional hymn “For the Beauty of the Earth” as loudly as I could. Perfect closure to a day of joy, tears, and community.

PRAYER:

Spirit of Life and Love, be with the members of our community who are grieving.

May they be held by love as they navigate this tender time.

Gracious Spirit, bless this community of compassion and good will.

And may the energy of the Flower Communion—bringing our true and unique selves; freely sharing our gifts and beauty with others—be with us this day and every day.

May it be so.

Rev. Drew Frantz

June 9, 2026