 It is my great pleasure to welcome you all to our winter choral festival. My name is Doug Watkins and I am the senior minister here and on behalf of the congregation we would like to offer you a warm season's greeting and we invite you to be a part of that warm welcome by briefly turning to those around you and offering your own's greeting to each other. Good morning. Good morning. In this season it is especially important for us to explore ancient gifts and words and so we are very honored to be together. This month this congregation is exploring in all of its layers peace and so it is appropriate that we turn to music this morning. As Unitarian Universalists we honor the spiritual power of music and its role in peacemaking. We draw in our tradition from a wide range of sources in order to glean spiritual truths for our lives which is consistent with what we will do today together. We draw from the sources of Jewish and Christian tradition. We draw from the words and deeds of prophetic people of all times and places. We draw from the wisdom that each of you bring to this place. For a moment we will invite us to gather with a sense of peace and quiet before we do that that would be this would be a perfect moment for you to silence any devices that you have with you for the rest of our time together. May we take a moment of quiet to center ourselves and to bring to mind a sense of the peaceful spirit we wish to bring into this place and into the world. May we share that moment now. It is our tradition as Unitarian Universalists to begin our time together with the lighting of a chalice. The symbol of the flaming chalice was an important part of Unitarian Universalism that began in World War II. Our service committee which is the outreach portion of our life together began its work in Europe and the flaming beacon was a symbol of hope and inclusion in their work as they tried to assist those threatened by the tyranny of the Nazis and so in a spirit of that beacon of truth a peace of light we will spark our chalice with the words written by Drew Collins and performed by Drew Collins. A new Isaiah. A new Isaiah a rewriting a prophetic scripture. I say Isaiah prophesying to the folks of Zion that for the darkness living bright light is given baby king is birthed supposed to rule the earth. Jesse, David and Solomon kings of Jews one and all of them. In this lofty line of big cheeses comes this itty bitty Jesus. We are told it will be a rain of peace. Announce that birth from a mountaintop. Truck stop, treetop, blacktop, backstop, bus stop, head shop, don't stop till you drop. Shout it. Tell them all that it will be a rain of peace. He the shepherd, we the sheep, lambs in his arms fall right to sleep. Beats anything you ever saw, lion and ox, sharon straw, wolf hanging with a lamb, leopard chilling with a ram, lions and calfs, oxen and ass, cow and bear and an infant sitting top a serpent's lair and a little child shall lead them. It is your turn to join in the song. I invite us to rise in all the ways that we do as we join our voices together in hymn number 225, O come, O come, Emmanuel, bird of Kennedy delivered in 1966 in South Africa. Few will have the greatness to bend history itself, but each of us can work to change a small portion of events. It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal or acts to improve the lot of others or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance. Here ends our reading. In singing together number 224, we invite our children and religious educators to class. Let Christmas come. Meaning standing for our response of reading. You'll find the reading in the text section. It is an insert in your order of service and it is in the top column here next to the word text. Daring for peace written by the Reverend Maureen Cloran. I invite you to respond to in the italicized portion of the text. As we are confronted by chaos, may we have the wisdom to believe in peace. Surrounded by voices of disagreement, may we have the audacity to speak for peace. Lured by the seduction of despair, may we have the courage to maintain a vision of possibility and peace. You may be seated. This morning's offering goes to benefit First Unitarian Society's music program. Those of you who are regular attendees in our congregation know what an important ministry it is for us. It's the way that it offers the gift of music throughout the year inviting us to think more broadly, to connect more deeply with what really matters. Our generosity this morning will allow for our program to have even more possibility of being an outreach to our community in the greater Madison area but also in larger places of connection. As we think about the gift of music that we are receiving this morning may inspire us to great generosity. Our offering will now be given and received in such a spirit. And now we move into the heart of the holiday narrative. A story so old and familiar in so many cultures that the nearest sentence can open the doorway to imagination. An imagination that has called us to honor this time as a time of deep connection. To honor this time as a call for all people to think about what it means for there to be peace on earth, goodwill to all. From the gospel according to Luke. And Mary brought forth her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger because there was no room for them in the inn. From this sentence comes great imagination and great call for love. Here ends the reading. I invite you to join your voices now in our next hymn. Number 245. Joy to the world. May we rise in all the ways that we do as we sing the first two verses from Maya Angelou. A Christmas poem under rumbles in the mountain passes and lightning rattles the eaves of our houses. Flood waters await in the avenues. Snow falls upon snow falls upon snow to avalanche over unprotected villages. The sky slips low and gray and threatening. We question ourselves what have we done to sow a front nature. We interrogate and worry God. Are you there? Are you really there? Does the covenant you made with us still hold? In this climate of fear and apprehension Christmas enters. Streaming lights of joy ringing bells of hope and singing carols of forgiveness high up in the bright air. The world is encouraged to come away from ranker. Come the way of friendship. We clap hands and welcome the peace of Christmas. We beckoned this good season to wait a while with us. We Baptist and Buddhist, Methodist and Muslim say, come peace. Come and fill us and our world with your majesty. We, the Jew and the dynast, the Catholic and the Confucian, implore you to stay a while with us so that we may learn by a shimmering light how to look beyond complexion and see community. We angels and mortals, believers and non-believers, look heavenward and speak the word aloud. Peace. We look at our world and speak the word aloud. Peace. We look at each other and then ourselves and we say without shyness or apology or hesitation. Peace, my brother. Peace, my sister. Peace, my soul.