 Please join in a moment of centering silence so we can be fully present with each other this morning. Get musically present by turning to the words for our in-gathering hymn, which you'll find inside your order of service. Welcome to another Sunday here at First Unitarian Society. Except for me, it's not just another Sunday. It's my birthday. Please hold your applause. We have a tight schedule today. And why, might you ask, would I want to spend my morning of my birthday here at First Unitarian Society? But the answer is, because this is a place where independent thinkers can gather in a safe, nurturing environment to explore issues of social, spiritual, and ethical significance as we try to make a difference in this world. I'm Steve Goldberg, a proud 67-year-old member of this congregation. And I'd like to extend a special welcome to any guests, visitors, and newcomers. If this is your first time at First Unitarian Society, I think you'll find it's a special place. And if you'd like to learn more about our special buildings, we might be offering a conducted tour, a guided tour, Richard Miller, after the service today. If you're interested, just meet over here by the windows after the service, and we'll take good care of you. And as we take good care of each other, this is a very good time to silence those pesky electronic devices that you just will not need during the service today. And as you're taking care of that task, let me remind you that if you are accompanied today by a youngster, and I see that some of you are, and you think that young person would rather experience the service from a more private space, we offer a couple alternatives for you, starting with our child haven in the back corner of the auditorium, and some comfortable seating just outside the doorway in the commons, from which you and your young companion can see and hear the service. And as some of you know, the reason we are able to hear and see the service is because it's brought to us by a wonderful team of volunteers whose names I will read to you now. Helping with the sound system is Chip Quaddy. Our lay minister is Ann Smiley. Our greeters today are Penny Mori and March Schweitzer, thank you to them. Our usher, our sound effects are provided by the 18-month-old right there. Our ushers are Karen and Doug Hill and Ann Smiley. Our coffee and hospitality are being prepared by Gene Hills and Sharon Sprattish. He does not need a microphone, does he? And I think that Richard Miller is going to be our tour guide. The orchids behind me were generously donated by Carlos and Melinda Moser in celebration of their 35th anniversary. Just a couple announcements before we proceed with the service today. One is that the Sanctuary Press Conference is going to be held this Thursday, 11 a.m. at the Madison Christian Community Facility on Old Sock Road, 7118 Old Sock Road. There's more detail in the Red Floor's Bulletin regarding this event. But if you are able to attend, please note that one of the featured speakers is our own Reverend Kelly Crocker and she would love to have some familiar faces in the audience. Kelly will be speaking at the Sanctuary Press Conference 11 a.m. this Thursday at the Madison Christian Community on Old Sock Road. And then the final announcement relates to a session that we are hosting here at FUS July 11, Tuesday at 6 p.m., a presentation on mass imprisonment in America featuring Sam Mehara, who was a prisoner at the Japanese-American Heart Mountain Relocation Center during World War II, 1942 to 1945. Sam's presentation will focus on his own experiences at the Heart Mountain Facility and also the question, why is it that only Japanese-Americans were imprisoned during World War II and what were the typical daily conditions in those internment camps throughout the country? And then looking at today's situation, Sam will address today's prison camps for Central American refugees and the implications for the potential registration of Muslim Americans. So again, mass imprisonment in America Tuesday, July 11, here at FUS 6 o'clock in the evening. That's the end of the announcements. I invite you now to sit back or lean forward to enjoy today's service. I know that you'll find that it will touch your heart, stir your spirit, and trigger one or two new thoughts. We're glad you're here. Happy birthday to me. We open our service with one of my all-time favorite poems by Marge Piercy. Connections are made slowly. Sometimes they grow underground. You cannot tell always by looking what is happening. More than half a tree is spread out in the soil under your feet. Penetrate quietly as the earthworm that blows no trumpet. Fight persistently as the creeper that overruns the garden. Gnaw in the dark, use the sun to make sugar. Weave real connections. Make real nodes. Build real houses. Live a life you can endure and make love that is loving. Keep tangling, interweaving, taking more in. A thicket and bramble wilderness to the outside. But to us, interconnected with rabbit lairs and burrows and runs. Live as if you liked yourself, and it may happen. Reach out. Keep reaching out. Keep bringing in. This is how we're going to live for a long time, but not always. As every gardener knows, after the digging, after the planting, after the long season of tending and growth, the harvest comes. I invite you to rise in body or in spirit for the lighting of our chalice. And if you will join me now in reading the words of affirmation that are printed in this morning's program. As we light this chalice, may its flame illuminate the inspiration waiting to be discovered in our hearts. May its light remind us of the hope that is restored by the efforts of our minds. May its warmth renew the dreams brewing in our spirits. May this flame be a symbol of all that we aspire to and might become. Now I invite you to turn to your neighbor on this fine July morning. Give them a warm and friendly greeting. Please be seated. And so on this beautiful July morning, on the weekend when we celebrate the birth of our nation, we pause to acknowledge the presence among us of two children who are just beginning their life's journey. In this season of sunny days and fragrant nights, we join Adele and Thomas' parents in welcoming them into our lives and into this, our spiritual home. Today we offer these families our friendship and support in the opportunities and the challenges that lay ahead. We trust that the commitment to and love for each other is strong in the Bajusky Daugherty and Ramirez families, and therefore it is our hope that these youngsters will be blessed with secure homes, reliable caregivers, that they may enjoy the freedom to develop their own personalities and to shape their own unique destiny. Our tradition, Unitary Universalism, holds that every person comes into this world fresh and unsullied, possessing inherent worth and dignity. And so this morning, we would acknowledge that these children, Thomas and Adele, are bona fide human beings with their own special gifts, with needs and feelings that matter just as much as any of ours. Although they have yet to fully unfold, Adele and Thomas are already vital, active participants in their family's home life, full partners in the work and play of living and true heirs to all of our dreams and values. Now, dedication, this celebration does not make these children full-fledged members of the First Unitarian Society of Madison, because that is a choice they must each make for themselves when they attain the age of reason. This ritual does affirm their place in our hearts, and it affords them the special kind of emotional security and spiritual opportunity that a Unitarian Universalist congregation, such as this one, can provide. And so we are glad that, moved by a sense of the blessings of parenthood and trust in this community, the Ramirez and Bohusky-Dority families have chosen to express their own values and their progressive religious faith through this ritual. And yet, ultimately, it is not just the parents, but all of us, all of us, friends, and relatives who are responsible for the teaching and the nurture of these children. And so by presenting them to you today, their parents acknowledge that Thomas and Adele are more than purely private treasures, that they are young souls in whom we all have a stake and for whom we all wish the best. On this day of great promise, then, we not only dedicate these lovely and gifted youngsters, we dedicate ourselves to them, to their interests, to their welfare. And now it would invite our families to come forward. And if you will look in your programs to the Pledge of Dedication, the insert, and please read along with me. For the gift of childhood, whose innocence, laughter, and curiosity bring hope, joy, and new understanding into our lives, we lift thankful hearts. We welcome Thomas and Adele into our spiritual community and extend to their parents our love and support in the joys and challenges of caregiving. As these children grow, we will share with them our insights, our values, and our dreams that they may enjoy the rich benefits of our religious heritage. There are among us today a number of people who bear a special close relationship to one of the other of these children. With respect to Thomas, please stand as I call your names. Those are Nancy and Michael Fredericks, and joining them are family members Jean and Claudia Ramirez, Natasha Klein and family, and Crystal Fredericks. And accompanying Adele are her sponsors Anne Gargano, Ahmed, and Nabil Gargano, Ahmed. Friends in attendance, Matthew Doyle Olson, Jennifer Bain Takahashi, Jonathan Takahashi, and Michael Anne Watson. And so my friends, do you take upon yourselves the privilege and the responsibility to nurture, to defend the freedom and the growing spirit of the child to whom you are related? Will you recognize his or her worth as a person and encourage this child to speak truthfully and always from the heart? Will you share with this child the best that is in you, the insights, the values, and the dreams that have given your life meaning? And finally, will you help this youngster to understand not only his or her own rights, but also the rights of others? And if so, please say we will. You may be seated. And to the parents now who have brought their children before us, Elizabeth and Jonathan, Sylvia and Zach. It is your privilege and your obligation to provide an environment both of security and of challenge for your child to grow up in. Do you commit yourselves to promote your youngster's physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being? Will you respect as well as protect your son or daughter and bestow your love as a free and unmerited gift? And do you also reaffirm your commitment to care for and support one another as partners in life and in parenting? And if so, say we do. In the act of dedication, we use the symbolism of water as a sign of our common heritage. There is no suggestion here of the washing away of inherited sin. We believe these children came into the world with all the limitations natural to our human species, but we also believe that they arrived here innocent. Water here stands for vitality. It is the elixir of life. It is the source of all potential. And for purposes of today's ceremony, a portion of this water has been saved from our annual water communion service held in late August. Members of this community bring to this meeting house from their travels across the country and around the world a bit of water to share. Its use here, therefore, reminds us of our common bond with all-embracing, ever-sustaining nature. Name your child, Thomas Daschle. We dedicate you in the name of truth, the promise of love, and the fellowship of this community. Name this child, Adele Genevieve-Darty. We dedicate you in the name of truth, the promise of love, and the fellowship of this community. May each of you be granted clarity of thought, integrity of speech, and above all, compassionate hearts. And as a token of their dedication, we give to each of our children a rosebud, fragrant symbol of beauty, promise, and love. This rose has no thorns symbolizing the better world that we would give to our children if it were in our power. We know that the world is not altogether as lovely as these rosebud, but we hope that Thomas and Adele will learn to recognize the beauty and the goodness that does exist, and that they will grow in wisdom and compassion, adding their own beauty to the world. As this rose unfolds in natural beauty, so may your lives unfold. Roses can be dangerous, even without thorns. And then we also do present each of our children with a comfort item, a hand-made blanket made by our Shaw Ministry participants, and we hope that they will be able to use these blankets when they're feeling a little bit cold or a little bit troubled and that they will give them comfort and a source of remembrance for our community. And so now let's give our dedicated children a round of applause. And as they return to their seats, please join with me in singing our next hymn, number 77, as we proceed with our service, comes from the book of Isaiah, the 40th chapter. Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary, and his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might, he increases his strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary. Young men shall fall exhausted, but they who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up with the wings of eagles. They shall run and not be weary. They shall walk and not faint. In a different vein, from the 2014 book by Helen McDonald, H is for hawk. And in this particular book, the hawk's name is Mabel. She writes, my old friend Martin Jones had raised both his hands in a gesture, half of supplication, half exasperation. It's like banging your head against a wall, he said. Don't do it. It'll drive you mad. I was thinking of what he had said as I drove. Clutch into fourth gear, roundabout, shift down, fierce acceleration, slight resentment. I didn't want to think about all those things the men had told me. It'll drive you mad. Leave the goss hawks to the goss hawk boys. Get a bird that's more sensible. I knew that training a hawk would be hard, and goss hawks are notoriously difficult to tame, to man in falconry parlance. You can man a merlin in a few days. I once flew a Harris hawk, free after just four days. But goss hawks, they're nervous, highly strong birds, and it takes a long time to convince them that you are not the enemy. Nervousness, of course, is not quite the right word. It's simply that they have these jacked up nervous systems in which the nerve pathways from the eyes and the ears to the motor neurons that control the muscles, they have only minor links that are associated with the neurons in the brain. Goss hawks are nervous because they live life 10 times faster than we do, and they react to stimuli virtually without thinking. Of all hawks, wrote the 17th century falconer Richard Blum, she is undoubtedly the most shy and coy, both towards men and dogs. She requires more the courtship of a mistress than the authority of a master, being apt to remember any unkind or rough usage. But being gently handled, she will become very tractable and kind to her keeper. Well then, kindness it shall be, and kindness we shall hope for. A professor of psychology at the University of Pennsylvania was released, provocatively entitled Grit and Perseverance. This book rose quickly on the nonfiction bestseller charts. And Duckworth's thesis in this book was rather simple, and she marshaled impressive examples to support that thesis. She proposed that highly successful people manifest two traits missing in those of lesser accomplishment. First, successful people are very clear about what they want, and they are fiercely committed to its accomplishment. And second, they are willing to work very long and hard in order to reach their goals. And taken together, these two traits constitute what Duckworth calls grit. Now this is hardly a groundbreaking discovery. Five years earlier, another bestseller, Outliers, by Malcolm Gladwell made similar claims. And in this book, Gladwell invoked the 10,000-hour rule, which was first proposed by two Carnegie Mellon academics, William Simon and William Chase in the early 1970s. And in their sampling of accomplished chess players, Simon and Chase found that in order to reach grandmaster levels, a player had to be so preoccupied with the game, so committed to it, that they would willingly give as many as 50,000 hours contemplating the various configurations of pieces on the chessboard. 10,000 hours, they concluded, was the bare minimum needed to achieve mastery in the field of chess. The very best chess players, therefore, had grit. Simon and Chase just didn't give it that catchy marketable name. Subsequent studies of experts in other fields support these findings. So for instance, classically trained musicians must spend countless hours honing and perfecting their skills. Investigators found that violin students at the prestigious Music Academy of West Berlin, they were all exceptionally talented. Otherwise, they wouldn't even be in the school. But what separated the merely good from the truly great was their grit, their work ethic, their persistence, year and year out in practicing. Now, Gladwell allows that success isn't always a function of relentless work and determination alone, but it's this grit factor. So for instance, an ability to jump high or to run fast, that's pretty much innate, it's a genetic gift. And while practicing as a runner or a jumper is important because an athlete's form does matter, the amount of time required to achieve excellence isn't nearly as great as in technical sports like baseball or golf. In complex or cognitively demanding fields, Gladwell said, there really are no naturals. This is certainly what Helen McDonald discovered when she took on the challenge of training the notoriously skittish gospel. Although she had indeed worked with other species in the past and although she had sought counsel from old hands in the sport of falconry, McDonald was completely unprepared for the weeks and months it would take to gain Mabel's trust and to establish a working relationship with this impressive raptor. And moreover, as maddening as Mabel's behavior was at times, as physically and mentally taxing as it was to put her through her paces, McDonald knew that she had to stay absolutely calm, keeping all of her reactivity at bay because any sign on her part of upset or frustration would reverse any progress that they had made and perhaps sever the bond that had developed between the two. This was hardly like housebreaking a puppy, but McDonald persisted and over time and in fits and starts, human and hawk did establish a rapport and an understanding of their respective roles. Patience accords with the way things are, the ancient Chinese sage Lao Tzu wrote, forcing a project to completion, you ruin what is almost right, perseverance, perseverance, persistence, the patient's steady application of effort that is often absolutely necessary for success, necessary, but not sufficient. Because you see, Helen McDonald had other advantages that made it possible in the first place for her to undertake this project. She was a college teacher in England and thus she was able to devote herself almost exclusively to Mabel's training between academic terms. She was also financially able to afford what can be a very expensive hobby. And this is one of the concerns that some have had with Angela Duckworth's thesis about grit, that she oversells it. She downplays other factors that can have a significant role in whether a person is successful or not. And she also seems eager to suggest that grit is an attribute that is within anybody's reach. And then if one of us doesn't have it, it's because we simply lack the right attitude. Grittiness can be acquired or it can be inculcated. And if we really appreciate its importance, we will, like a tiger mom, instill it in our children and strengthen it in ourselves. It's all just a matter of choice. It's all just a matter of willpower. But unfortunately, as David Denby recently observed, children are not all born onto the same level playing field. And while it does make eminent sense to develop strategies for helping children to become more patient, more persevering, more committed to their chosen discipline, we need to be careful about making value judgments about any given child. Because some kids, Denby writes, suffer severe injury even before they reach school age. If they were born into poverty with an absent, neglectful, or abusive parent, such youngsters can be exposed to very high levels of toxic stress. And this in turn can cause irreversible damage to the prefrontal cortex, which is the seat of the individual's executive functions. And when the executive functions are compromised, neurologists tell us a child's capacity for resilience and perseverance can also be impacted, and much of this damage will already have been done before the child enters preschool. So what's called for in cases like this is more support for struggling overstressed families, a more nuanced approach to a child's behavioral deficits and recognition of the limitations of any given developmental approach. And indeed, too much emphasis with a child on grit can induce even sharper feelings of inadequacy. Mike Egan is an accomplished musician in the former member of the US Marine Band, and he comes on strong with his point, but it's worth contemplating. He says, anyone who would tell a child that a sufficient work ethic is the only thing standing between him or her and world-class achievement, that parent should be jailed for child abuse. Well, if we were lucky enough to have been spared early childhood trauma, we still may need more than grit to achieve our goals. Now, David Denby, he writes for the prestigious New Yorker magazine, but he committed himself to a career in journalism very early on, and he has worked very hard at his discipline. He has risen in the professional ranks, but he also had advantages that other journalists lacked. My parents carried me for a number of years, he says, I fumbled my way through a career. Now, his parents were not responsible for his success, but Denby does allow that their belief in him and their support for him is what made it possible for him to persist. And over the years, I've run into so many self-help books that claim to have discovered the singular key to leading a successful and flourishing life. And what so many of them ignore is the fact that we all exist in a social milieu that can either push us forward or hold us back. David Denby and Helen McDonald were committed, persevering people, but they could also rely on strong support systems, and others may not be that fortunate. Grit alone is only gonna carry them so far. The reality Malcolm Gladwell observes is this. The amount of practice necessary for exceptional performance is so extensive that people who end up at the top need help. They invariably have access to lucky breaks or privileges or conditions that make all those years of practice possible. Now, social and economic factors aside, perseverance, the ability to stay on task for an extended period of time, that's still just one piece of the grit equation because there is also the issue of motivation. Why are some people more highly motivated than others? Well, sometimes an untreated physical or emotional malady will kind of keep us stuck in place. But the problem often is uncertainty, a lack of clarity about where to go and why we should go there. And so we need to find our passion. And once we do that, it will feel natural and even joyful to persevere in the service of that passion. For some, that passion, that sense of calling or mission in life arrives very early on by the age of eight or 10, a boy or a girl will feel the muse stirring within. Or they'll take great pleasure in solving mathematical puzzles. So for instance, the noted entomologist E.O. Wilson, he says I was a very indifferent student at my public school in South Alabama. Because as a youngster, he said, I wanted to spend as much time as I possibly could out in nature. And out in nature, Wilson captured and he studied spiders and snakes and all kinds of other small creatures that inhabited the pine barrens in South Alabama. It wasn't evident in school, but in the outside world it was already clear where his passion lay. And out of that passion, he crafted an exceptional career at Harvard University. Now his intelligence, his IQ, E.O. Wilson says, was not exceptional. Above average, he did not qualify as a genius. But he did have grit. He had this passion for environmental studies and he had an indefatigable work ethic. And as a teacher later in life, Wilson has stressed this point to many of his students, quite a few of whom lack this clear vision for themselves. Both are important, but he says, put your passion always ahead of your training. Feel out in any way you can what you most want out of science or in some science related discipline. Obey that passion, he says, as long as it lasts. But sample some other subjects. Be ready to switch if a greater love makes its appearance. And as in other big choices in life, there is simply too much at stake. Decision, hard work based on enduring passion that will never fail you. E.O. Wilson's perspective here complements the words that I shared earlier from the Old Testament prophet Isaiah. If we wait on the Lord, Isaiah assures us. If we trust in and rely on him, we will discover unexpected stamina and strength. We shall run and not be weary. We shall walk and we will not faint. Now God and the individual's relationship to that higher power, that's what concerns the Old Testament prophet. But I believe that one could substitute the word passion for God and the passage would make equal sense. Whether or not a person has a personal relationship with the divine, there are those passions people possess that do stir them to purposeful persistent action. Senator Elizabeth Warren has been passionate about increasing the accountability in our financial systems. John Gardner, the founder of Common Cause, was passionate about clean government and fair elections. Daniel Berrigan was passionate about nuclear disarmament and world peace. These are not sacred causes in the strict sense of that word, but those who embraced those causes with passion were able to run and not faint. Or as John Gardner himself put it, reform is not for the short-winded. Now unfortunately discerning one's passion isn't always easy and sometimes it actually is preceded by a lengthy gestation period. E.O. Wilson suggests that passion is necessary. It's necessary for perseverance, that we will not be sufficiently motivated to work hard until we feel called to the task. Switch gears, he advises, before you make too great an investment in any particular field. And likewise, David Denby says we need to be careful about where we invest our precious life energy and not commit to endeavors about which we feel doubtful or ambivalent. Well I don't believe in banging your head against the wall any more than Helen McDonnell did. But my own experience, my own life experience has convinced me that a sense of passion can for some be acquired incrementally and not just serendipitously. Because you see when I contemplated studying for the Unitarian Universalist Ministry some 45 years ago, I had no idea how that plan was gonna pan out. Now as an undergraduate I had developed this avid interest in my senior year in spirituality. But growing up, my family attended religious services only sporadically and mostly at lay led Unitarian fellowships that didn't have a minister. Now all I knew at the age of 21 was that I wanted to continue my investigations of religion and spirituality and figure out how to make a living in the process. I couldn't imagine doing that anywhere but in the free and open atmosphere of the Unitarian faith. But this was not a career path that my secularist parents approved of or were willing to support. Moreover, with so little previous exposure I was pretty clueless about the professional ministry. What is it that clergy do? I didn't know. So did I feel a passion about this role? Some sense of calling? Decidedly not. I was curious but I was not convicted. And even after three years of graduate study in Berkeley I remained uncertain. After three more years serving a small Unitarian congregation in Northwest Iowa, I still had my doubts. So I dropped out, went back to school, earned my PhD, dabbled in college teaching. Didn't have much passion for that either. Well I was nearly penniless at that point and still on the fence I said, hey let's give ministry another shot. So the second chapter in upstate New York was in its own way, every bit is challenging and every bit is disillusioning at times is the first time around. But despite my ambivalence I resolved to work hard, I persisted and I made progress. Gradually I gained confidence and after eight years in the parish I finally could say to myself, Michael you can do this stuff. Took me eight years but I have found my passion. And as I look back three decades into the distance it's clear that I needed some grit to accomplish my goals in the ministry and putting the cart before the horse I needed the grit before I found the passion. The hard part for me was never the perseverance, the steady application of effort. That's always been a part of my natural makeup. It's what helped me to succeed as a distance runner in my earlier days able to put in those 60 and 70 mile weeks to brave the winter blizzards and the oppressive summer heat to train for an important race. This discipline of running Anne B. Burfoot, former winner of the Boston Marathon once wrote, this discipline requires that you take the long view because it takes weeks and months to get into shape. So give yourself time. Don't make hasty unnecessary mistakes because life is a marathon, it is not a sprint. I learned that the same logic applies to parish ministry. Treat it like you would a marathon and I've run 10 of those. Give yourself time. But could I or would I have stuck with this demanding sometimes frustrating possession on the basis of that grit or that passion alone? Probably not. Perhaps the biggest difference the second time around was the network of collegial relationships I developed and the insights I acquired from discussing my struggles with more seasoned clergy. I needed wisdom, I needed encouragement from others from elders in the craft, people I could turn to for honest feedback and I needed a supportive life partner, my wife Trina, who made me aware of my rough edges and helped lubricate our relationships with my parishioners. When there's something else I learned, something that is also important if you're gonna go at the distance in any career that reflects what it means I think to have real passion and that is that the work must be its own reward. That what counts in the end is not success as it's ordinarily understood. What's important is that sense of being filled, of fulfillment. And in the ministry what does that mean? It means as Marge Pirce put it in our opening words, weaving real connections through persistent effort and faithful service. Now I have enjoyed some success in the parish ministry but that's not what's kept me in the game for over 40 years. It's the entanglement, the recognition that ministry is not what I do, it's what we all do together. That's where the passion comes from. And that my friends is why I have persisted. And so may you. It is time now for the giving and receiving of our offering and your gifts this morning will be used to support the programs of this blessed institution. Please be generous. The cares of the congregation book is typically open outside of the middle doors for people who would like to record or joy or sorrow that has visited their life in recent times. There were no cares that were inscribed in the book today so there will be no cares of the congregation to share. But please remember that if there is something you'd like for the larger community to know about what's going on in your life then you can write it in this book before our Sunday services. So we will move directly now to our closing hymn. Number 351. Our closing words are from the poet Rainer Maria Rilke. Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves. And the point is to love everything, to live the questions now. Perhaps you will gradually without even noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer. Please be seated for the poster.