 Welcome to the First Unitarian Society of Madison. This is a community where curious seekers gather to explore spiritual, ethical, and social issues in an accepting and nurturing environment. Unitarian Universalism supports the freedom of conscience of each individual, as together we seek to be a force for good in the world. My name is Karen Rose Gredler, and on behalf of the congregation, I want to extend a special welcome to visitors and newcomers, as well as you regulars. We invite you to stay for the Fellowship Hour after today's service. We are a welcoming congregation, so wherever you are and whoever you are and wherever you are on your life's journey. We celebrate your presence among us. This would be an excellent time to silent cell phones as we join together in a few moments of centering silence as we become fully present with ourselves and one another, and come into this time and place together. Now I invite you to rise in all the ways that we do for our in-gathering hand number 347. Good morning. Let's use this to wake ourselves up. Gather the spirit, harvest the par. Our separate fires will kindle one flame. Witness the mystery of this hour. Our trials in this flight appear all the same. Gather in peace, gather in thanks, gather in sympathy now and then. Gather and strength, gather to celebrate once again. Gather the spirit of heart and mind. Gather, gather in sins again. Gather the spirit of heart and mind. Winter to spring, resound these gather. Please remain standing for our opening words in the lighting of the chalice. As we enter this shared sacred space, let us renew both our commitment and our covenant. There are those among us who have endured a loss in the past week. May their hope be uplifted again in this community of faith. There are those among us who have wrestled with questions that seem to have no answer this past week. May they find sanctuary in this community of faith. There are those among us who have cherished an unexpected joy in the past week. May their gladness be celebrated. As we commit to continue our free and responsible search for truth. May we covenant to honor the many paths that have led us to this time and this place together. And if you will now join in the words of affirmation as we light our chalice. May the light of this chalice give light and warmth to our community. When we are joyful and when we despair. And may we feel the warmth spread from our circle to wider and wider circles. Until all know they belong to the one circle of life. And if you will take a moment now to turn and greet those around you. And I now invite anyone who would like to come up closer for our story to come on up. Hey guys, good morning. Did you have a good week? Yeah? Hey, Nolan? Did you have a good party? How's it feel to be seven? Any different than six? No. Hi Lily. Morning everybody. Our story this morning may seem familiar yet a little different. It is called the Little Red Fort. Ruby's mind was always full of ideas. One day she found some old boards. Who wants to help me build something? She asked her brothers. Wait a minute. That's right. Oscar Lee pretended not to hear her. Rodrigo gave her a look that could melt popsicles. Jose almost fell off the fence. You don't know how to build anything, they said. Ruby shrugged, then I'll learn. And she did. Who wants to help me draw the plans? Ruby asked. The boys clutched their sides and howled with laughter. Not me, said Oscar Lee. I don't think so, said Rodrigo. No way, said Jose. I am too busy. Fine, said Ruby. I'll draw them myself. And she did. Satisfied with her plans, Ruby asked. Who wants to help me gather the supplies? What do you think they're going to say? Not me, said Oscar Lee. I don't think so, said Rodrigo. No way, said Jose. I am too busy. Fine, said Ruby. I'll gather them myself. And she did. When all the supplies were gathered, Ruby asked. Who wants to help me cut the boards? Not me, said Oscar Lee. I don't think so, said Rodrigo. No way, said Jose. I'm too busy. Fine, said Ruby. I'll cut them myself. And she did. When all the boards were neatly cut, Ruby said. Who wants to help me hammer in the nails? Not me, said Oscar Lee. I don't think so, said Rodrigo. No way, said Jose. I'm too busy. Fine, said Ruby. I'll hammer them myself. And she did. Soon, Ruby's creation was complete. Who wants to play in my fort, she called. That is a fancy fort, isn't it? That is. It's not red yet, is it? Good. Good eye, let's see what happens. So what do you think they're going to say when she says do you want to play in my fort? They're going to say yes. Me, me, said Oscar Lee. Let's go, said Rodrigo. I'll play, said Jose. I'm not busy anymore. Not so fast, said Ruby. You didn't help me draw the plans or gather the supplies or cut the boards or hammer the nails. You said I didn't know how to build and you laughed at me. I'm going to play in the fort by myself. And she did. See how happy she looks? Now, what do you think? You, you think? We didn't want to play anyway, the boys said. But they did. So they huddled, whispered, and got to work. Oscar Lee made a mailbox. Rodrigo planted flowers. Jose painted the fort fire engine red. Ruby was delighted. That evening, the boys followed a delicious aroma to a fort warming party. Who wants to help me clean this plate, Ruby asked. We do, the boys said. And they did. They ate it all. Now, I really like this story. Does it remind you of anything? Yeah, the little red hen. Exactly, I thought it would be familiar. But here's what I love about this one. So does Ruby give up when her brothers tell her that she doesn't know how to build anything? Does she say, yeah, you're right, never mind? No, what does she do? She learns exactly. She learns how to do it. She keeps trying again and again. And think back to those pictures. When no one would help her and she had to cut the boards and hammer in the nails, did she do that by herself? No, did somebody help her in each one? I love that part too. Look at here. Do you see she found some grown-ups to help her do that? So she didn't give up when her brothers told her no. She went and found some folks who would help her, especially with things like a power saw. Let's just have a safety announcement. Never use a power saw without a grown-up, okay? And then at the end, what happened at the end when her brothers pitched in and built a mailbox and planted flowers and painted it fire engine red? Did she, she was delighted and did she still say, there's no room for you? Or did she let them come in the fort? She let them come in the fort because there's always room for more, right? Thanks. Right, and right, it's more fun to play with others in a fort than it is to be in there by yourself. You guys are awesome. Thanks so much for listening to Ruby. We are going to rise in all the ways we do and sing you out to class. Humanly past and present people's near and far. This morning is taken from the writing of Christopher Bice, a Unitarian Universalist minister, entitled Grandmother's House. Over the river and through Atlanta traffic to Grandmother's house we'd go. That was our routine during various family holiday gatherings of my childhood. I remember looking at all the food spread out on Grandma's dining room table. There was a large turkey roasted to a golden brown. There were salads, casseroles, dressing, freshly baked rolls and a variety of vegetables to choose from, but these were of no interest to me. There was only one dish that mattered. It was served in an elegant fine china bowl with a ladle to the side. It was a delicious, piping hot bowl of spaghetti-os. I was always excited to see that Grandma had cooked my favorite dish. She had lovingly opened the can, poured the contents into a pot and warmed them to perfection. And of course, there was the presentation. I am probably one of the few people on earth who has been served spaghetti-os from the finest china. My grandmother was a southern Baptist. My father, her son, became an Episcopal priest. I am a Unitarian Universalist minister. Grandma died before I became a member of a UU church. I am not sure how she would have reacted. Perhaps she would have felt the same way as my aunt, who once exclaimed to my brother, Sam, Chris is a Unitarian. I thought he was at least an Episcopalian. This was not a diplomatic comment, considering that Sam is an Episcopal priest. Would my grandmother be surprised by my choices? Maybe not. Grandma taught me from earliest childhood that there is room at the table for someone who is a little bit different from the rest. The memory of that bowl of spaghetti-os continually reminds me to make room in my heart for people whose tastes and disposition might be different. There can be room in our hearts for all. There can be a place at the table for everyone, even the more finicky children of God. Here ends our reading. You may have noticed, OK. Thank you. You may have noticed in your order of service that there's kind of a curious mashup of titles there for the anthem. It's a spiritual, Go Down Moses. And we'll follow it immediately with an Italian opera chorus. And we'll be singing in Italian. And I wanted you to know why we were doing all of that here in our monthly theme of sanctuary. The last time a choir sang in a service, we talked about music as sanctuary. And I used as an example a spiritual. And we're doing that again today. The idea that music can protect us, that music can be a sort of traveling sanctuary and surround us wherever we go. In the case of the Italian opera chorus, and the spiritual, they're both also songs of protest. In the case of the spiritual Go Down Moses, they're singing about the Hebrew slaves wanting to be released from Pharaoh. And it was the slaves way of kind of being able to say to their slave master, let my people go without actually saying that, but actually using the Bible, the biblical verses, that they were being taught to sort of point out the hypocrisy of slavery in America in general. In the case of the Italian opera chorus, it had a special meaning. Verdi was not just a composer and an important figure in general in Italy. At the time, he was also a politician. And Italy was struggling with great divisiveness. And it was made up of many different states, if you will. And they were trying to unify it under one leader. And this movement, these agitators, went by the name resogimento, rising again, rising again. And they had great passion for their cause. Verdi said at one point, you speak to me of music? What has gotten into you? Do you believe I want to concern myself with notes, with sounds? There must be only one music. Welcome to the ears of Italians in 1848, the music of the canon. And indeed, Verdi became a symbol of the resistance because the king that they were trying to seat for all of Italy, I'm not sure why they chose a monarchy during this revolution, it ended up not working out too well. But at the time, they thought what we need here is a king. And the king's name was Victor Emanuel Reditalia. The initials for which are, V-E-R-D-I. So this allowed for this underground to shout Viva Verdi in public. Thank you, society. Choir for the beautiful gift of music this morning. The 13th century Persian mystic Rumi is often said to be the best-selling poet of the 21st century. I don't think it's accidental when you read his words. Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and right doing, there is a field. I'll meet you there. When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about. What is it about a Sufi poet who lived over 800 years ago that catches our attention? I often think of these words about a magical field when I contemplate the idea of sanctuary, a place apart, a place of refuge and healing, welcome and peace. I wonder if his words resonate today because our culture is so often motivated by winning and losing, preoccupied with presenting ourselves to be right and others to be wrong, sitting in judgment about the thoughts and actions of others. Our political systems are deeply mired in differences of belief so that little or no positive action can be created. Our news is filled with stories of conflict, contentious interactions, and power struggles. The challenges of modern life can certainly appear overwhelming. This past week, I spent some time unplugged from modern life as I joined a group of 30 adults, teachers and parent chaperones who were taking 71 sixth graders to Upham Woods, an outdoor learning and education center in the Wisconsin Dells. This is an overnight trip where students spend two days hiking, participating in team-building activities, studying the microscopic life to be found in pond water, all the while creating something of a sanctuary together in the woods. At our parent orientation, a staff member shared that not every student, given this opportunity, chooses to attend. She said, for most of these kids, it is the first time away from home, away from their families and their routines. It is anxiety producing for them to be away from their safe and comfortable spaces. It's a different way of being with others, some of whom you don't know well or know at all. You have to trust that it's all going to work out okay. Every year, we have kids who stay home instead of coming with us because the thought of entering this different kind of space with people you barely know is just too much. Zenzu Earthland Manuela Soto Zen Priest recently wrote a book titled Sanctuary, A Meditation on Home, Homelessness and Belonging. In it, she writes, finding home, feeling at home, being at home, our complex, multi-layered spiritual and cultural experiences independent of the place we live. Where is home? When I don't feel at home, where can I find sanctuary? These questions become critical when we are in a situation filled with anxiety or fear. Sanctuary is a feeling of being at home, a place where we feel our common humanity, shared trust, respect and love. To feel at home, we need to be recognized, acknowledged, seen for who we are. It gives us the energy to transform ourselves, to see possibilities, to work for a world where all are respected, seen and held in peace. This is the book I was reading when I headed into the woods with middle schoolers. Does anyone remember middle school? My memories of it are not particularly filled with moments of belonging, of common humanity or trust, respect, love. I didn't know what to expect when I headed into the woods. I know I wasn't expecting what I found. The dozen kids assigned to me were a varied group, from differing elementary schools to having known one another since kindergarten, some who met last year, most having just met a short six weeks ago. They were still learning one another's names. And yet here they were spending the next 48 hours together in intentional community. When we headed up to our team building activities, they were a pretty quiet group. Two hours later, they were boisterous, proud of their accomplishments, laughing as they recalled their funnier moments, saying things like, I can't believe we did that. We were amazing. They were yelling out to me, did you see that? Did you see us? I smiled and told them I did indeed see them and that I was so very proud. I was grateful for this opportunity because what I witnessed in that time taught me a great deal more than they could know about how we create sanctuary for one another, how we create spaces of belonging. I was reminded that creating sanctuary takes imagination, trust, and determination. It also takes a great deal of relationship building. When you spend time getting to know people, when you build relationships first, it is okay to fail later. Our group began with activities to learn one another's names, gradually followed by activities that were more complicated. What began as simple talking became conversation, asking questions, seeking out ideas, reflecting on what we had done. I noticed how these seemingly simple games were really about building trust and respect, learning to see the larger connections between us. It is this foundation created through trust and respect that allows us to embrace deeper challenges together. The concrete example of challenge for these youth using that trust and respect and understanding was literally to move each person through a spider's web created by elastic cord wound between two trees. It took them 27 times to complete the task. There were many mistakes, failed attempts, and missteps along the way. I was expecting frustration, I was ready for disappointment, maybe some flares of anger, but none of that appeared. Since they had built their relationships first, had some knowledge of one another, they were allowed to take risks, make mistakes, work as a team with a larger connection and a larger goal. They learned the importance of sharing ideas with everyone and listening to the ideas of everyone. When a few people were trying to plan the next move on their own, our naturalist would yell out, can you all hear this idea? And then everyone would stop and turn and listen. Creating sanctuary means speaking up, sharing our ideas and also listening to the ideas of others. It is only through listening to the voices of all that we have any hope of moving forward. Our naturalist reminded them time and again, solo efforts are impossible to sustain. Between each activity, the team would huddle to reflect on what had been learned, how this would help them moving forward into the next activity. How many times do we rush from one thing to the next, never slowing down to ask what went well, what did we notice, what could we change? The slowing down time during those 27 attempts allowed space for the new to emerge. Pausing to reflect on what was happening, they stopped doing the same thing over and over again. They waited to see if there was something new, indeed something different trying to emerge. I didn't know what to expect when I left for the woods. What I found was a group of 11 and 12-year-olds who created sanctuary for one another, a place where they could bring their full selves, a space that held a deep recognition of shared humanity, a place of respect, a place of caring. To create sanctuary spaces, we need to be willing to do something that may seem personally scary or risky for the sake of a larger commitment that we have made, whether that commitment is to ourselves, to our families, our friends, or the values we hold sacred. It's a space that calls us to choose trust over fear. Choosing to be true to one's own self when the world insists that truth lies elsewhere and that you must quiet your own small voice. In the 1960s, the Reverend Charles Grady wrote that our churches are clearings in the wilderness of this time, places of refuge and sanctuary for the bruised and the tired, and also places of healing and renewal. They are workshops for common endeavor, schools for learning and enlightenment, transmitters and celebrators of a heritage, tools for breaking down barriers, tools for building new bridges. Our churches are clearings in the wilderness of this time. Charles passed away in January of last year and he preached a sermon just a few months before his death where he said those words again. He said that he meant them in 1960 and he still means them today. He said, I mean it now with this much trouble and exactly this much beauty swirling all around us. We need to create places of sanctuary for the bruised and the tired. We need places that hold us, places that know deep in their bones that we have a strong and holy purpose. What we do here has to be about more than the relief of finding a tribe of others of like mind and resting easy in that comfort. It is more than socializing, more than self-expression. Here you are called by name, the shimmering constellation of your identities acknowledged and here you are called to account. You are accountable to one another, to all people, all persons, every living thing. This is easy to say in words during a service. It is difficult to practice all week long and on the ground, face to face and one on one to discern for each of us what it means to be unitarian universalists in our homes, in our work or even in the woods. Margaret Wheatley said, you don't fear people whose story you know. If we really want to create sanctuary here, a place of true belonging, then we have to know one another. We have to be brave enough to start conversations. We live in a world of dehumanizing rhetoric where people's humanity is reduced and they can be hurt or have basic human rights taken away. We live in a world of assumptions and stereotypes when people who are not like us live out there. If we want to create spaces of sanctuary, then we have to move in close, start conversations. When we learn the story of another, we connect in to that common humanity we share. If 12 kids with very different histories, backgrounds, skin colors and language can do it, I think we can too. We can be brave enough to listen with a desire to learn more about another's perspective. We can say things like, tell me more. Tell me what really matters. Help me understand why this is important to you. And then we do that hardest part, listen. Listen to understand not to agree or disagree just to move in closer and learn another's story. Here's what I believe. I believe that more than ever we need to be with one another here. We need to talk to one another about what we believe, what sustains us, what matters most. We need to be friends to one another and each and every single time we are here, we need to add at least one more person to our circle. Solo efforts are impossible to sustain. Last weekend at our parish meeting, our open question asked, how does FUS provide sanctuary for you? And how might the sanctuary you find at FUS make us better able to offer and support sanctuary in the world outside these walls? As the groups reported out, we heard time and again, FUS is a sanctuary for me because here I am welcomed, here I am home. We heard the importance of being a community of welcome. The need each time we gather to be welcoming, to be of kind heart, to willingly listen to another story. Welcome every person in. Say hello, reach out so that everyone who enters is greeted. The need to be a people of welcome and open hearts to every person who walks through those doors. At every door a friendly face when you come in and when you leave. At every turn during fellowship hour, someone new saying hello. Together we can create a space of sanctuary, a community where more people are meeting one another and sharing their stories, where more people feel welcome, find connection, build relationships, find a home. And in that feeling of home, living with sanctuary within themselves and within this community. The world is full of the bruised and the tired, of hungry, lonely souls. Our greatest hope and our greatest power lies in reaching out beyond ourselves, seeking both to build our relationships in community here and to encourage each other to act for change in the world around us. Find one person today after service whom you have never met and share a story from your week. I spent time with middle schoolers in the woods. What happened for you? Take the time to get to know others and to be known. Make time for the spiritual renewal that we undertake so that our own sense of serving something larger than ourselves, our own sense of shared meaning with people here grows. When we can take this time, slowing down, reflecting upon what's emerging within us and among us, we can hold sanctuary in this community, a space of healing, a space of vision, a space of holiness and peace for ourselves, for all who walk through our doors. Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and right doing, there is a field, I'll meet you there. And I now invite you into the giving and receiving of the morning's offering, our outreach offering recipient this weekend is the YWCA of Madison. You can find out more about them and their good work in your order of service and we thank you for your generosity. In the shared ministry that is our weekend services, again and again, we are offered the opportunity to practice gratitude. And so we take a few moments in our service to remind ourselves of the gift of those who minister to us that we might come to this time together. In that spirit, we honor that our greeter today was Claire Box and we are grateful that our ushers are Brian Channis and Mary Savage. We acknowledge with deep gratitude that creating a space of hospitality through the ministrations of coffee, a big thing for Unitarian Universalists, Blaze Thompson and Biss Nitschke offered their gifts. We are deeply grateful that the beautiful flowers this morning were brought in part by Heidi Wilde and that our lay ministers this morning are Dennis Collins and Ann Smiley. This morning if you would like to have a tour after the service, we invite you to come forward here by the ramp and John Powell will offer a tour and our welcome table and information table is staffed by Dwork Bergen. Each of us is called to think of our own pathway of service as well. There are several opportunities today that we want to let you know about. The road homes work to end family homelessness in Madison County is an important service that we have been involved in in the past but we want to let you know more about how you can get involved this December. So immediately after the service at 10.15 to 11 in room C, there will be a gathering offering some information about how volunteer opportunities may be utilized, especially for our families. And so all ages are welcome and yes, coffee will be served. I hope you will join us in room C. After the second service this afternoon at 2 p.m., we will be offered a lecture entitled The Value of a Third Space presented by the founder and CEO of Infamous Mothers, Sagacious T. Levingston. The event will be held here in the atrium auditorium and is followed by a book signing and light refreshments. It is free and open to the public but donations will be accepted for the organization Infamous Mothers. Ms. Levingston's talk will focus on the importance of rethinking space and place in our struggle and work towards racial justice. And finally in terms of announcements, we have begun our journey circles but there is still an opportunity for you to find out about them and join them. Journey circles are another version of our small covenant groups. And as I have been talking with many of you over the last couple of months, now almost 70 of you, I would say over half of you by a long shot have talked about how important small group ministries, a chance to really get to know each other, how essential that is to your sense of belonging and connection here. Well, this is another opportunity to participate in those kinds of circles, probably the biggest difference of the journey circles is that there's an even more meaningful connection with what's happening here on Sunday because those groups will be exploring our monthly themes. So if you'd like to find out more about those circles, you can stop by the table in the commons and if it is a good fit or a possibility to sign up for a journey circle. We move into the cares of the congregation and I invite you to enter into that space with intention and preparation. So I invite you to find a way to be in your chair so that you feel balanced and open and well-grounded with your feet connected to the earth. And for us to let a very simple but powerful tool of mindfulness, our breath, bring us to this space. As you breathe in, let it bring you into this time, this space, into your body. Where do you feel your breath most powerfully? That source of life and spirit. And as you release breath from your body, may it be a gift to this world. Symbolic of the gift of your life, with each breath in, a call to presence, with each release of breath, a connection to all that is from that place of grounding, from that presence. We may know joys and sorrows that are part of each and every life and so in this place where we practice community, where we know that we are discovering what it means to be loved and to give love. We come together in deep strength and common purpose, remembering all those in our own lives who have celebrated moments of great joy or who are in the midst of struggle for just a moment. I invite you to call to mind yourself and those that you know and hold them in your thoughts or prayers. We also remember this morning to offer extra prayers for all of those who are imprisoned. May they have hope and a positive support group within their own life experience. May we recall that all the joys and sorrows, both those shared and those that are yet too tender to share that they are held in this place by each of us. May we remember in this time the power of being part of the web of life, inviting us to connection with all humanity, reminding us of connection with all that is. May we be grateful for all of the gifts of our life, for the power of sharing and from that gratitude may hope, care, remembrance, love be the gift we give back for this and so much more we hope and we pray and blessed be. May we rise in all the ways that we do and join together in our closing hymn, number 121, We'll Build a Land. The dibs go free where the oil of gladness dissolves anointed by anings to all the afflict those who mourn and will give them garlands instead of ashes, all wisters and brothers anointed by guise, where job will be a land building of ancient cities, raising up devastations from old, restoring ruins of Jack. Come, build a land where the mantles of praises resound from spirits once faint and once weak, where like oaks of righteousness stand her people, oh, come, build the land we seek, castors and brothers anointed by then grief, I pray this day for the courage to be humble in the face of inequity and pain, to know that the power has been given me to make a difference. I pray for the courage of endurance to keep acting in the midst of despair, to keep trying in the aftermath of failure, to keep hoping in the emptiness that follows loss or change. May courage give us patience and may we ever know love's healing presence at the heart and center of our days. We extinguish this chalice flame, but its light lives on in the minds and the hearts and the souls of each of us. Let us carry the flame with us and share it with those we know, with those we love, and most especially with those we have yet to meet. Blessed be, go in peace and please be seated for the postlude.