The biggest secret at CLF is that we need your support to sustain Quest Monthly! With nearly 700 members in prison, and hundreds more on fixed incomes, many of our congregants are unable to contribute financially.

In her book On Lies, Secrets, and Silence one of the essential writings of 1970s feminism, Adrienne Rich wrote: “Whatever is unnamed…will become, not merely unspoken, but unspeakable.”

What does it feel like when you have a secret? We asked folks on the CLF Facebook page: How does it feel in your body to carry a secret?

Did you know that you can share in real-time worship with other CLFers, or watch services on-demand after they run live?

Part of me is so Beautiful. I don’t know how to let that part win.

My connection with the Unitarian Universalist Trauma Response Ministry began September 26, 2001. It was just fifteen days after the perilous events in New York City, Washington, DC, and western Pennsylvania.

My heart is aching for answers, for a way this makes sense, for a way to understand a 12-year old child shot, a way to understand Eric Garner, a father of six, choked to death in broad daylight with his murderers caught on camera—no medical attention, left to die in the street just like Michael Brown, who also received no medical attention.

In the late 1940s and early 50s, there was a song which, when it came on the radio, would make my dad groan and move as if to turn it off, muttering “That darn song, it’s so sticky!” and my mother and I would cry out, “No, we want to hear it!”

For years, one of my favorite hymns of hope has been Carolyn McDade’s “We’ll Build a Land.” It opens with: “We’ll build a land where we bind up the broken; we’ll build a land where the captives go free…”

Christmas is a season of hope. If you’re a kid, it’s probably a season of hoping for presents. There are lists you give to parents and letters you send to Santa and lots of waiting and hoping for the very best of loot.