 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
| Farmers' Market at UCV
|
|
Wednesdays 3 - 7 pm, June until January
(except for Christmas and New Year’s)
Church parking lot
Helping to develop sustainable, local, organic food systems in Vancouver
more information |
|
| Go a step further to protect our environment--and support the congregation
|
|
| CTV news report on human smuggling & new federal law
|
UCV and refugees The news report considers the possible effects of the Conservatives' proposed new law regarding human smuggling. Because the UCV Refugee Committee works with refugees, the reporter interviewed Rev. Epperson briefly. The report includes video footage and comments by Rev. Epperson. CTV news report
|
| Unitarian news from around the web
|
Click the link to read the news:
Unitarian Universalist News
|
| Praise for "The Zombies are here!" Sermon of February 26, 2012
|
|
Letter from Bosnia-Herzegovina
|
|
 |
 |
| Affordable Housing / Congregation Building Effort
|
Since January 2011 we have been meeting to promote a national affordable housing policy by writing letters to representatives in Ottawa.
We have met for monthly letter-writing evenings that combined fellowship, excellent food and effective social justice activism. To all the dedicated people who have participated, a heartfelt thank you.
See you at the next meeting until we reach our goal!
read more about the bill
|
| A Bog Burns
|
Hi, my name is Alexander Winstanley, and I was so moved by the Burns Bog pilgrimage that took place this year that I wrote this poem calling for social action. Enjoy.
A Bog Burns
Look at the earth
sogged and sopped between your toes:
this is Her magic;
this is the green carpet She walks on.
Spirits move through the cotton grass,
the aftermath of ice ages.
Rootless moss
dies and grows on itself.
This peat of weed
produces the world’s fresh water.
That old skunk cabbage
with its stench of passion
varies 40 degrees
from spathe to leaf,
its vegetable heart hot
with the macabre romance
of the mosquito.
And this Musqueam woman
sitting before me
in her swivel chair
in an office behind the Esso station.
We must lock arms about
this vestige of green.
Wise songs of fertility and
the gentle mounds of moss
trickle tears for the loss
of ecospheres
as they buoy riots of insects and flowers,
leaves and bowers.
Let the bog live inside the lowdown thrum of your heart
as it plays upon the chords of your ribs; the art
of some greater Being; though unseen,
She bathes Herself in deeper, ever deeper green.
|
|
 |
|
 |
|