 And welcome to the First Unitarian Society. My name is Kelly Crocker, one of the ministers here. And along with my colleague, Roger Birchhausen, we are joined today by Drew Collins, Linda Warren, Heather Thorpe, Daniel Karnes, Stephen Gregorius, and the Espinoza Forlenza family who will lead our chalice lighting. We're so glad to have you joining us virtually today. Though not together here in our beloved meeting house, we remain together through the bonds of community and affection. Here in this community, we gather to grow our souls, connect with one another, and embody our UU values in our lives, our community, and our world. We hope you will join us for our virtual coffee hour immediately after today's service and the information for that will appear once again on your screen after the postlude. And I invite you now to take a few deep breaths, to be present together here, to bring ourselves fully into this time and this space we share. Opening words come from Gretchen Haley. Cast your vision here, this life with so much worth saving, this fragile faith for the children born now, into the world as it is with the threat of war and whole continents burning. Offer the vision you've tried to talk yourself down from. Your wildest dreams, your audacious aims, the beauty that whispers to you to follow and build and become. For this world coming undone by distraction and greed and fear, this world divided by made up borders, fake fights, and all that needs forgiveness, here stir up your steadfast hope, your resolute clarity of what remains possible. Be generous with your dreaming and brave. All paths to the future are born in this courage of imagination, this willingness to shed, to salvage, to start again to be this blessing to each other and to be blessed. Come, let us worship together. And I invite you now to join in our chalice lighting by lighting a candle at your house. Our chalice lighting words will be shared by the Espinoza for Lenza family. Let us hold the quiet moment together as our chalice is lit. As the wild wind bites, so does the still flame warm us. As the deep snow blocks our doors, so does the gentle flame bring us out. As the crackling cold air stops our breath, so does the radiant flame draw from us the words we need to give and to receive. Words of welcome, words of comfort, words of solace, words to challenge our minds and words to bring us to action. Let us gaze upon this, our common flame, so that we remember who we are and what we can do when we are together. Be well. For our message for all ages today, we'll hear a portion of a TED Talk by Janet Echelman, an artist. It is about her using stuff that is nearby to create something amazing in the world. This story is about taking imagination seriously. Fourteen years ago, I first encountered this ordinary material, fishnet, used the same way for centuries. Today, I'm using it to create permanent billowing voluptuous forms, the scale of hard-edge buildings and cities around the world. I was an unlikely person to be doing this. I never studied sculpture, engineering, or architecture. In fact, after college, I applied to seven art schools and was rejected by all seven. I went off on my own to become an artist, and I painted for ten years when I was offered a Fulbright to India. Promising to give exhibitions of paintings, I shipped my paints and arrived in Mahabalipuram. The deadline for the show arrived. My paints didn't. I had to do something. This fishing village was famous for sculpture, so I tried bronze casting. But to make large forms was too heavy and expensive. I went for a walk on the beach, watching the fishermen bundle their nets into mounds on the sand. I'd seen it every day, but this time I saw it differently. A new approach to sculpture, a way to make volumetric form without heavy solid materials. My first satisfying sculpture was made in collaboration with these fishermen. It's a self-portrait titled Wide Hips. We hoisted them on poles to photograph. I discovered their soft surfaces revealed every ripple of wind in constantly changing patterns. I was mesmerized. I continued studying craft traditions and collaborating with artisans, next in Lithuania with lace makers. I liked the fine detail it gave my work, but I wanted to make them larger, to shift from being an object you look at to something you could get lost in. Returning to India to work with those fishermen, we made a net of a million and a half hand-tied knots. Installed briefly in Madrid, thousands of people saw it, and one of them was the urbanist Manuel Solomeralis, who was redesigning the waterfront in Porto, Portugal. He asked if I could build this as a permanent piece for the city. I didn't know if I could do that and preserve my art, durable, engineered, permanent. Those are in opposition to idiosyncratic, delicate, and ephemeral. For two years, I searched for a fiber that could survive ultraviolet rays, salt air, pollution, and at the same time, remain soft enough to move fluidly in the wind. We needed something to hold the net up out there in the middle of the traffic circle, so we raised this 45,000-pound steel ring. We had to engineer it to move gracefully in an average breeze and survive in hurricane winds. But there was no engineering software to model something porous and moving. I found a brilliant aeronautical engineer who designed sails for America's Cup racing yachts named Peter Hepple. He helped me tackle the twin challenges of precise shape and gentle movement. I couldn't build this the way I knew because hand-tied knots weren't going to withstand a hurricane. So I developed a relationship with an industrial fishnet factory, learned the variables of their machines, and figured out a way to make lace with them. There was no language to translate this ancient idiosyncratic handcraft into something machine operators could produce, so we had to create one. Three years and two children later, we raised this 50,000-square-foot lace net. It was hard to believe that what I had imagined was now built, permanent, and had lost nothing in translation. This intersection had been bland and anonymous. Now it had a sense of place. I walked underneath it for the first time. As I watched the winds' choreography unfold, I felt sheltered and at the same time connected to limitless sky. My life was not going to be the same. I invite you now into this time of giving and receiving, where we give freely and generously to this offering, which sustains and strengthens our community, this community of memory, faith, hope, and love. Today's outreach offering recipient is the Community Immigration Law Center, which is a 501C3 nonprofit sponsored by a coalition of legal, social, and faith-based organizations wanting to contribute to the community and to address the unmet legal needs of immigrants in Madison and the surrounding areas. FUS has partnered with CILC in providing trainings and volunteer opportunities and as founding members of the Dane Sanctuary Coalition. You will see on your screen that you can donate directly from our website, FUSMadison.org. You will also see our text to give information there as well. We thank you for your generosity and your faith in this life we create together. Twice during my 25-year ministry in Appleton, I did a sermon titled, What I Would Say If I Was Leaving. So it dawned on me 15 years in that I had not experienced the freedom a departing minister has to cut loose and tell it like it is. I pride myself on being transparent, but still the mindset of, I'm out of here, can unleash the imagination and loosen the tongue in wonderful ways. So 15 years in, I began the sermon with the news that was, indisputably true, I was leaving. I was going to resign, retire, be fired, or die in office. One of those four things was going to happen, no exceptions. We just didn't know when or what the reason for my leaving would be. So I said that, and then I shared a few things that had been on my mind for a while. Ten years later, I used the same title to share some more blunt thoughts. This time, I did have a date of departure and a reason for leaving, thankfully resignation. Well, no wonder I was drawn to enter a ministry for this final chapter of my career. This is a ministry where I am pre-fired, where the date of my departure, likely anyway, is known from the beginning. So when I ventured into your lives in August, we all knew that I would be leaving this coming July. You knew from the moment I was here, and I knew this is how it would be. So I have been untethered. My imagination has been untethered from any anxiety about my longevity here. And I have to say, I'm loving this. So in this spirit, I want to share several observations about First Unitarian Society. And I should note that today is actually the end, this very day, of my first six months, so halfway through. I've not been here very long, and oh yeah, there's a pandemic, so I've probably met less than 10 of you in person. So take what I'm going to say with maybe a little bit of grain of salt, but also I hope take it seriously. My first observation, and this is the foundation observation, is that this congregation is built on layers upon layers of legacy, rich legacy. The first strand that comes to mind for me are the strong and packed full, sturdy ministries of these past 70 plus years, Kenneth Patton, Max Gabler, Carol Taylor, Michael Shuler, Ruth Gibson, Marianne Macklin, Scott Prinster, Karen Gustafson, and of course my beloved colleague Kelly Crocker. I'm so lucky to actually have known all those, but Ken Patton. The long-term senior ministries, especially of Max and Michael, jump out as a real deep legacy of riches. There's also of course the legacy of lay leaders who have been so, so wonderful, a devoted and skillful staff, dedicated members and affiliates who have given so much of their time and their treasure to FUS. I honor the gift of these thousands of people, including you. FUS is what it is today because of you. Every minister knows this. This place would be nothing if it was just the ministers. You are what makes this place work. And there is also of course the rich legacy of the building. Clearly, the dedication of the landmark building 70 years ago this coming Thursday was a turning point, a point that changed everything. From that point on, the congregation has had the blessing of an aesthetically beautiful and breathtaking building and the curse of maintaining it and working around the impractical aspects and the idiosyncrasies of the architect. Recognizing that the congregation had outgrown the landmark building and constructing a really amazing new addition and new worship space included is also a remarkable accomplishment in a lasting legacy. The treasure of legacy runs very deep here. A second observation about FUS is that another source of vitality for congregations, a sense of mission, is the need of renewal and reimagining. The state admission of FUS was adopted 18 years ago. A lot of you were part of the place then, but you have changed. Whole bunch of new people have joined since then and the context of Madison and the world has changed. Creating a new mission statement is generally not productive work for interim ministry and it's about killing me not to dive into that and I bet the same is true with my predecessor Doug Watkins. I hope that you will do this work early in your settled ministry. I hope you dive into this work with the kind of imagination exemplified by the artist and the message for all ages. Use the material at hand the rich legacy of this congregation to build something new and amazing and innovative. Let me add an important parenthetical note here. Reverend Kelly and the new minister and the board may decide that something else is more pressing than mission work right out of the gate this fall. If so, know that from afar I will support that decision a hundred percent. So please don't throw the observation I made just now about doing the mission early into their faces if they decide not to. I don't believe in curses or in haunting people but if I could in you ever say well Roger said I would like to haunt you. Whenever this mission work happens the reimagining of it will give FUS focus for the coming years. When there is not a compelling timely mission then it's very difficult to figure out what the priorities are and to zero in on them. This can be especially problematic in a large congregation where things can start spinning out of orbit. So we've practiced this year with a placeholder mission updating a vision for ministry statement from a few years ago and three strategic priorities. Ministry during the pandemic, centering anti-racism, anti-oppression work and supporting the ministerial search and transition. This is given focus and coherence to the board, the staff, the ministry teams and it's a small direction in the way that I think this congregation will go in these next few years. My third observation is there is continued internal work to do at FUS. FUS will not magically become a more thoroughly anti-racist, anti-oppressive presence in Madison or more multicultural without continuing this hard work. Overwhelmingly white UU congregations generally love to dream about becoming more multicultural as if the dream itself will make it happen. What actually makes it happen is white folks like me doing the hard internal work of examining our privilege, dismantling white supremacy culture and becoming more inter-culturally competent and there are some great ways to get involved in this internal work. Right now at FUS there's the racial justice learning circle that meets every other month. There's every month actually. There's next week's transforming hearts workshop that focuses on trans inclusion and next month an FUS group will be participating in Nehemiah's Just Anger program and there's still spots in that group. Keep this work up. Don't get sidetracked by fake fights and zero-sum games that simply are a diversion from this work that needs to be done. This work is urgent and it's also a marathon. There's another piece of internal work that we're planning to do in these next several months and that is to create a behavioral covenant. A behavioral covenant is a written articulation of how members of the congregation aspire to interact with one another. A behavioral covenant can help the congregation be intentional about articulating and embracing healthy interpersonal practices. For example, communicating directly with a person if you have an issue with them. It's important to note that FUS has a covenant called the bond of union that goes back to the beginning of the congregation in 1879. I don't envision a behavioral covenant replacing the bond of union. Instead a behavioral covenant more zeroes in on concrete behaviors and really is built on the platform of that sturdy long-lasting bond of union. Stay tuned for information on this behavioral covenant process. There will be ample opportunities for members of the congregation to get involved and I hope that there'll be a final draft for the congregation to vote on in the parish meeting in June. This is one way that we can more consistently make this a house of peace from the words from the first hymn. Not a house of agreement, not a house of like-mindedness. In fact, actually this kind of work, this behavioral covenant will help us embrace all the diversity of people and ideas present at FUS. And let me say one more thing related to this internal work. It's hard to know for sure because I've been here but a short time and there is a pandemic. But I have a sense that a fair number of people here may express dismay with decisions at FUS by cutting financial support and or stepping back from involvement. Of course everyone should give and be involved to the extent that feels right to them. But it's unhealthy in a congregation to use money or involvement as a cudgel to get your way. I like it when congregants feel unconditional love for their congregation. Even when things don't go their way they have such an abiding love that they continue to give their money and their time as generously as they possibly can. If you've been withholding support from FUS this year and in these past several years, I hope that you'll jump in. I hope you'll jump back in and I hope you'll be all in. FUS really needs you for this next chapter that's about to dawn. My next observation is that for the 30 years plus years that I've known FUS, I've always been impressed with the remarkably dedicated and talented staff you have. And this year has been such a joy to get to work with these fine folks. And there is a shadow side to having a talented dedicated staff. Their presence makes it a little less compelling to volunteer. It's easy to fall into the mindset of the staff can do this so I don't have to. More and more stuff then gets heaped on the staff and the absence of a fresh compelling mission compounds this the staff don't have a way of saying hey that's off mission great idea but off mission. A byproduct of all this is staff burnout and the development of a consumerist mentality among congregants. The reality here is that declining revenue has significantly shrunk the staff over the past six to eight years. This creates an opportunity for members simply put FUS needs more volunteers. This is difficult given that I know people feel really stretched in their lives but I believe that even super busy people can sometimes make space for meaningful volunteer activities. The key is to match people's passions with the needs of FUS and a second key is to develop a robust leadership development program that puts primacy a primacy on training folks not typically in the leadership here young adults and people of color for example. And a final observation FUS continues moving forward in its gradual decades long evolution toward being a more theologically diverse and inclusive congregation. As I said earlier this month digging deeply into our theologies and embracing the differences among us is of paramount importance in the words of the closing hymn we'll sing shortly. We do that that work as we drift along together our ships companions here at FUS joining in that work casting our questions into the deep and sharing what we get back with one another this is sacred holy work at the core of this congregation. My guess and my hope is that the settled minister that you call this spring will have a theology that's different from Kelly or Michael or Doug or me. I hope you allow your new minister to have a theological viewpoint and theological language different from your own without feeling like that somehow devalues your own beliefs. It does not. It's OK if your new minister is most at home in your winter solstice service or the more traditional Christmas Eve Vespers communion service or Diwali or a humanist holiday. It's all OK. There is space for all of you here in this inclusive congregation including your new minister. Rest easy in that knowledge because of its rich legacy and many other strengths FUS has been is and will continue to be a flagship congregation in our Unitarian Universalist movement. As remarkable as your history has been and in spite of considerable head wings going against religion these days I really believe that FUS's best chapter lies ahead over these next six months. May we together continue to sow seeds that will help this next chapter of FUS which dawns this summer and fall bloom with an abundance of energy imagination beauty and promise. Each week we gather with hearts that are heavy with sorrow and hearts filled with joy and celebration. We bring these here in community knowing that we are held in love. This week we light a candle of sorrow and loss for Gwen Harman who passed away on January 2nd. We send our love to her family and friends especially to the members of her chalice group here at FUS. We light a candle of sorrow for the passing of Anna Bender on January 17th. Anna and her late husband Dale were long time members here at FUS and also members of our Oakwood group. We will miss Anna's smile and warm welcome when we are able to return to Oakwood again. A candle of love and strength to Chris and Jill Carlson as they mourn the passing of Chris's mother Betty Valentine on January 20th in California. We send them our love and our strength as they remember the remarkable woman she was and all the gifts that she brought to this world. When we light one final candle for all the sorrows and all the celebrations that live within our hearts may we hold ourselves and one another in love and in gratitude remembering that we are loved just as we are that we are connected with all that is and that we do not journey alone. Blessed be and amen. My benediction words come from Barbara Peskin. Because of those who came before we are. In spite of their failings we believe. Because of and in spite of the horizons of their vision we too dream. Let us go remembering to praise, to live in the moment, to love mightily and to bow to the mystery. May you go in peace.