 I wish I could ask you a few more. She said, there, I think that's all. I mean, she said she was just in there. I mean, she sent me off. I know what she's talking about. But you know, she, she, I'm telling you, it's like that. Well, you did a great job. But what do you see? I did physical pressure. And I didn't do anything. She did that. I hate this job. I hate this job. I hate this job. I was very discouraged. Great, great, great job. How do you present those references of authority, sex, and human rights in your own ability? And that's, for example, in the fall of the 19th century, you're exploiting somebody. You've got to run down to the top of the story. That's a great insight, going down to the bottom. And then you cross the heart. You're a part of that. You're a part of that. You're a part of that. You're a part of that. You're a part of that. We're going to begin again. I got you here yesterday. You can go and sit down. Yes. Yes. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. You can go and sit down. Yes. We're gonna sit here. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. It feels good, though, when we're all doing it. Please join in a moment of centering silence so we can be fully present with each other this morning. Okay, enough silence. Let's skip musically present by turning to the words for our in-gathering hymn, which you'll find inside your order of service. On the top of the morning to you, happy day after St. Patrick's Day, and welcome to another Sunday here at First Unitarian Society, where independent thinkers 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. Speaking of things that are different in this world, I'm Steve Goldberg, a proud 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 that it's a special place. And if you'd like to learn more about our special buildings, stick around, and we would love to host you during the fellowship hour where we can answer any questions you might have about FUS. And speaking of answering questions and taking care of each other, this would be a great time to silence those pesky electronic devices that you just will not need during the next hour. While you're taking care of this simple but important task, I remind you that if you're accompanied today by a youngster and you think that young person would rather experience the service from a more private space, we offer a couple options for you, including 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 hear and see the service. Only a couple announcements before we begin the service, actually just one announcement, and that is 47. There are 47 days remaining until cabaret. On Friday evening, May 4th, we're going to take a Caribbean cruise or a Caribbean cruise, either one. As part of our annual cabaret fundraising party, a great opportunity to have fun with friends and make new friends. Stay tuned for more details. Again, how many days until cabaret? 47. Wow, we're aligned already. Great. I told you we would be fully present with each other, and we will be fully present on May 4th, Friday evening, the cabaret party. So with that, I invite you to sit back or lean forward to enjoy today's service. I think it will touch your heart, stir your spirits, and trigger one or two new thoughts. We're glad you're here. We're put on this earth not to leave things the way that they were, but to interact with each other and with nature's harmony so as to enrich all that we touch. So let our being in the world become a mark of gracefulness, intelligence, and loving concern. And may this time together, the thoughts, the music, the conversation that we share encourage us in these noble ends. May it help us to become more faithful and effective stewards of the many lives and of the planet that we cherish. I invite you to rise in body or in spirit for the lighting of our chalice. And please join with me in reading the words of affirmation in today's program. May we find the courage to live our faith, to speak our truth, and to strive together for a world where freedom abounds, peace prevails, and justice is done. May we know the fullness of love without fear and of security without oppression. May we hold one another in the deep and tender places of compassion and know that the divine spark within makes soulmates of us all. And in the spirit of soulmates, please turn and exchange a warm greeting with your neighbors. Please be seated. And at this time, we would invite the children to come forward for the message for all ages. Good morning, everyone. So I don't really have a story to tell you today, but I do have a message, and the message is a song. And there are going to be some pictures up there that you can watch as I'm singing this song to you. And the message is actually not an answer. It doesn't give you an answer. It asks you a question. And so as we're singing the song, I'd like for you to think about the question that the song is asking, OK? And it's called These Hands. Some hands have held a world together. Some hands have fought in wars forever. So tell me, what shall I do with these hands of mine? And some hands have blessed a million people. Some hands help free the world from evil. So tell me, what shall I do with these hands of mine? What shall I do with these hands of mine? What shall I do with these hands of mine? Because the world could use a hero of the humankind. So tell me, what shall I do with these hands of mine? Some hands can stop life from dying. Some hands comfort a baby crying. So tell me, what shall I do with these hands of mine? What shall I do with these hands of mine? What shall I do with these hands of mine? Because the world could use a hero of the humankind. So tell me, what shall I do with these hands of mine? I want to sing it from my heart. I want to hear it in the wind till it blows around the world and comes back again. And all that we can ask is for ours to be free, to use them when we want for whatever. They give voice to a nation. Some hands wrote the times they are a-changing. So tell me, what shall I do with these hands of mine? What shall I do with these hands of mine? What shall I do with these hands of mine? The world could use a hero of the humankind. So tell me, what shall I do with these hands of mine? So tell me, what shall I do with these hands of mine? So what was the question in the song? It was repeated lots of times. What shall I do with my hands? And what shall I do with my hands to make this a better world? I think that's what it's kind of asking us. And your hands are kind of representative of your whole bodies. What are you as a person going to do to make this a better world? So anybody have any idea what you can do that might be helpful? There were some ideas that were up there and that I sang about other than holding a baby close, becoming a doctor, and helping to heal people. Even as you're in school, there are all kinds of good things you can do to make your school a much more inclusive place where everybody feels welcome. So that's one of the things we can do with our hands. Any other ideas? Well, you just kind of think about that question. And as you go out to your classes today, I'm going to invite you all to join me on the refrain as we're singing our kids out. Time for class. So tell me what shall I do with these hands of mine? What shall I do with these hands of mine? What shall I do with these hands of mine? The world could use a hero of the humankind. So tell me what shall I do with these hands of mine? So I have two readings to share this morning, the first from Francis Moore LaPay's book, Democracy's Edge. When Texas Wesleyan College announced that it was moving to a more upscale part of Fort Worth, Texas, the college was reacting to the decay of the neighborhood. But if the college moved out, the neighborhood had virtually no chance of recovery, because the campus provided the last point of stability on which to eventually rebuild that neighborhood. So in response to this move, allied communities of Terrant, ACT, a broad-based citizen organization comprised mostly of moderate and low-income blacks, Hispanics, and whites, they contacted the board of trustees of the college and the president and asked for a meeting. The Reverend Terry Boggs recalls that, to prepare, we conducted a two and a half hour role play. We went over every eventuality, and at the end of it, we thought we were ready. At the appointed hour, all of us, 15 laypersons and pastors, arrived at the parlor off the president's office. And there we saw chairs lined up in two rows, all facing a table where the president was to sit. So immediately, we started rearranging the furniture so that we could all sit in a circle. ACT organizer Perry Perkins explains what happened next. At that point, the president's assistant walked in. What are you doing? He asked. And we replied, we want a meeting, not a lecture. We were polite, but our actions communicated that we were an organization with some power. And we deliberately created a certain tension. Our action produced some discomfort that the president and his assistant could not ignore that they had to deal with. We created a public moment that succeeded in focusing people's attention. And it worked. And the college ended up recommitting itself to the community. In its disciplined initiative, ACT had remade the power relationship, not through nastiness, but by creating enough tension to make those with more power aware that they had to take seriously the voices of those whom they had perceived to be powerless. Typically, Americans think of power in the form of money, law, force, status. But once we understand power as a relationship among people, many new possibilities begin to open up. In a similar vein, this poem, Hope is a Long, Slow Thing by Marge Piercy. She writes, I became a feminist, but I didn't get it all. So I have committed myself to the Church of Perpetual Subservience. I protested. I demonstrated. But still, war went on. So I have realized that politics is useless, and I have joined the Junior League instead. They have wonderful lunches. I made phone calls for my candidate, but little happened. So I'll never vote again. The progress is never individual. A wave crashes on our shore, traveling all the way from Africa, storming, eroding the cliff, grinding it down. But the same water is not what moved. We are droplets in a wave. Maybe I cannot, with my efforts, displace a rock, but the energy of the movement can force it from the way. Look back. My great-grandmother was killed in a pogrom. My grandmother gave birth to 11 children in a tenement, eating potatoes only sometimes. And my mother had to leave school in the 10th grade to work as a chambermaid that salesmen chased around the dirty bed. Nothing changed by itself, but was changed by work. And history records no progress that people did not sweat and dare to push. Along we is the power that moves the rock. Wonderful music. So everybody sleep well last night? I'm not someone who personally has a hard time sleeping. My head hits the pillow. I'm pretty much out until my bladder wakes me up a few hours later. And then I'm probably good until about sunrise. So rarely have I been upset or anxious enough to have my sleep disrupted or my dream life tainted by some untoward turn of events in the larger world. Now, to be sure, as an elementary school student who was taught to duck and cover when the air raid siren sounded, well, fantasies of nuclear holocaust would keep me awake. But that was more than 50 years ago. And then Donald Trump was elected president of the United States. After November 8, 2016, I slept fitfully and often awoke with this sense of unreality. That really just happened. And I'd only begun to come to terms with the electoral outcome, and the inauguration took place, and my agitation spiked again. So I'm hardly exaggerating when I say that the last election ranked close to 9-11 as an emotional disruptor in my life. Now, when it comes to our national politics, I'm typically a fairly non-anxious person. I was a polysine major in undergraduate school, so I know something about how the American political system works. I know about the fickleness of the American voter, the vagaries of the electoral college. So none of this hardly surprises me. And having now lived through some 11 presidencies, I have known disappointment. But even the tainted 2000 election that propelled George W. Bush into office did not exact the psychological toll that this latest one did. So let me be clear, my reaction has little to do, little of anything to do with partisanship or party loyalty, the fact that a Republican in this instance prevailed over a Democrat. It has to do with a particular individual who, as commentators across the political spectrum have agreed, is the least qualified person ever to occupy our nation's highest office. Now to her sorrow, Hillary Rodden Clinton once used the epithet deplorable to describe candidate Trump's supporters. That was an insensitive and elitist comment, and it probably benefited her rival. But deplorable is not too strong a term to apply to the candidate and now to the president himself. And that, my friends, is what keeps me up at night. And it's not just the policy positions that Donald Trump has taken. The scaling back of environmental and workplace protections, the crippling of the Affordable Care Act, tax reform that exacerbates inequality, draconian immigration guidelines, a shoot from the hip approach to international relations, the padding of our nation's already bloated defense budget to name just a few. The United States has weathered and experienced and overcome such extreme policy shifts in the past, and we probably will again. So the challenge that we face today, I believe, is of a different order entirely. And it is reflected, at least in part, in Mr. Trump's misogyny, his mendacity, his recklessness, his self-dealing, his willful ignorance, his spitefulness, and his pugnacity that an individual possessing those characteristics command so much power today is chilling and that so many others in key leadership positions have become the president's enablers and his apologists seems inconceivable. Now until recently, I wasn't quite sure how to frame this issue, how to look past all the bluff and the bluster and the tweet storms and the rabble rousing in order to get down to the heart of the matter and the real underlying source of my deep concern. And then I came across this article by a guy named W. Robert Connor, Professor Emeritus of Classics at Princeton University. And the focus of this particular article was demagoguery. Connor takes us back to ancient times, the time when the city of Athens was embroiled in the Peloponnesian War. And the war was not going well for the Athenians. And so following the death of that city's great statesman and general Pericles, leadership passed to an opportunistic politician by the name of Cleon. And Connor writes, he seemed not to have any fresh solutions for Athens' difficulty, but he spoke and he acted in unprecedented ways. As far as we know, Cleon was the first individual to whom the label demagogue was applied. Apparently the comic playwright Aristophanes coined the term. Demagogue is a cognate created from the Greek words for people and to lead. One so described leads the people, but more in the manner of a pied piper than someone guided by a coherent policy platform. And so according to the Greek historian Thucydides, Cleon was this magnetic speaker and it was his oratorical skills that made him a favorite among the people. But any ideas that he presented were beside the point. What one of him numerous rabid followers was his skill at expressing and manipulating their emotions. Demagogues don't worry about consistency or the practicality of their proposals. There may be nothing at the core, Connor writes, except a vacuum that sucks into it cliches and slogans and factoids and fabrications. But because the emotional bond the demagogue has forged is so strong no argument can pierce the thick armor of his followers' loyalty. And so Professor Connor asked the reader to consider parallels between Cleon's time now 2,500 years ago and our own. Demagogue, he writes, has the ability to transform itself into autocracy. If one by one the institutions that resist the aggrandizement of power are eroded or destroyed. If much of the foregoing seems vaguely familiar, it is because we've been exposed to enough of President Trump's mass rallies to have a pretty clear idea of what demagoguery looks and sounds like. He stirs the fire of discontent with his broadsides against media figures, political rivals, the special counsel, the intelligence agencies, and then he combines all of that with lavish praise for autocratic and repressive practices. Professor Connor finds all of this deeply troubling. Peter Slaterdick is one of Europe's best known public intellectuals and he echoes these concerns. Trump and leaders like him, he says, are rage entrepreneurs, fear mongers. His true significance, Slaterdick says, lies in the way that he instinctively subverts the norms of modern government. And so instead of waiting for the crisis to impose his decrees, his decrees get him the emergencies that he needs and the playground for madness is vast. I don't think it's too great a stretch to say we're headed toward a crisis of democracy that we downplay and we dismiss to our peril. The stakes, I think, are that high and yet I don't think a lot of us are convinced of the immediacy of the threat but we certainly ought to be. And that threat needs to be lifted up as often as necessary and in as many venues as possible including in our faith communities. An old memory prompted me to share these concerns today. In 1973, I was 22 years old and had just landed in Berkeley, California to begin studying for the Unitarian Universalist Ministry. And that first semester there, my wife Trina and I volunteered to teach church school at the First Unitarian Church of San Francisco. And so for several months every Sunday we crossed the bay in order to fulfill our commitment. On one occasion, however, we were free of responsibility and were thus able to attend services in the cavernous sanctuary where the Reverend David Rankin, the highly esteemed senior minister, routinely preached to large and appreciative audiences. 1973, November, Richard Nixon was in office. Evidence of political dirty tricks and obstruction of justice in the Watergate Affair was mounting. Months would still pass before the president would finally be forced from office. But that morning, November 1973, David Rankin said that the facts are now incontrovertible and he called on Congress to begin impeachment proceedings. As I recall, he was the first Unitarian Universalist minister to take that prophetic step. In our own time, the Reverend William Barber is convinced that our own political culture needs a similar jolt. The moral Mondays movement that he helped launch in North Carolina has now gone national and is part of a much larger effort called Unstoppable Together. Worried about the fate of our democratic institutions and the declining fortunes of our ordinary citizens, Reverend Barber is challenging us in his words to be the moral defibrillators of our time, shocking the heart of this nation in order to build a movement of resistance, hope, justice, and love. Reverend Barber is not at this point in time beating the drum for impeachment and quite frankly, neither am I because given the current composition of Congress, that is simply not a realistic expectation. But for the rot, for the rot at the highest levels of our government to be cut away, there has to be a strong recommitment to the democratic norms and principles that in our complacency we have sometimes taken for granted and failed to protect. And so what is called for today is a sustained uprising. Because it goes to the heart of the things that many of us care so deeply about. This isn't just a political battle. The values that are at stake here are spiritual ones and they are moral ones and they include our children's very lives, currently threatened by easy access to deadly weapons that our legislators have made possible. The fate of the planet as the pace of climate change accelerates while lawmakers curry favor with the fossil fuel industry. A widening gulf between the haves and the have nots due to regressive tax policies, business friendly right to work laws and corporate welfare. An alarming increase in hate crimes as black lives matter, activists, Muslims, Jews, undocumented immigrants, queer and transgendered people are routinely scapegoated and demonized and disregard for human rights and the newfound acceptance of torture and mass incarceration as legitimate instruments of foreign and domestic policy. So these are just a few of the spiritual moral values being transgressed by an increasingly autocratic regime and the present peril fortunately has captured the attention of a wide spectrum of Americans who in last year alone participated in 8,700 different protests across the country. The Me Too, the hashtag Me Too movement. Its stock has continued to rise but it also drew its initial energy from women who were dismayed over Donald Trump's sordid past. And we have seen nothing like this really since the early 1970s as tens of millions of people including I'm sure some in this room are rising up to protect the spirit of democracy, the spirit of brother and sisterhood, the spirit of equity and fair mindedness, the spirit of forbearance and open mindedness and the spirit above all of truthfulness. So what will it take for this spirit of resistance, this moment of resistance to succeed? Well first the recognition that it will take much more than a moment and that these powerful opposing interests are awash in resources and they have plenty of arrows in their quiver. And so a successful resistance effort will require constancy and a willingness to persevere. Where do we get the energy for such a prolonged struggle? Well from indignation, indignation, a fitting natural response to repeated offenses against human dignity and the degradation of our common life. Indignity, it's related to anger but indignity is much less likely to hinder our ability to think clearly and to keep faith with our moral compass. Pure unadulterated anger makes us stupid. It makes us self-righteous. As Ursula Gaine recently wrote, it fuels not positive activism but repression, obsession and vengeance which we see too often among those who have given their allegiance to the alt-right. So we need to stay in touch with our indignation which is not too terribly difficult since every week brings some fresh insult to our political and our social sensibilities. But indignation alone is not gonna do the trick. For meaningful action to occur we also need some positive sentiment. Indignation needs to be wedded to hope. As Paul said in his letter to the Galatians, let us not grow weary of doing good for in due season we will reap if we do not give up. What does hope look like? You need it only to be on the Capitol Square last Wednesday at 1 p.m. to see hope in full flower. You saw some images of that demonstration earlier. For years the National Rifle Association has crafted these permissive rules that have helped to create more carnage in this country than in any other developed land. But on Wednesday, thousands of high school students, junior high students, teachers, moms and dads, grandparents, community activists, and clergy marched, chanted and demanded meaningful and immediate change in our state's gun laws. As I watched, a middle-aged man in an NRA hat and slunk away from the crowd affected one hopes by the determination of this budding crop of new activists. Over the years I think too many of us became resigned to the gun lobby's sway over its morally challenged legislative pawns. And our fatalism on the gun control issue as George Zornick observes, at some point became self-reinforcing and so the Second Amendment absolutists prevailed over and over again. But the members now of Generation Z aren't accepting that and they have discovered that even if they do not yet have the vote, they have a powerful and influential voice. And although gun control groups have been springing up like weeds all across the country, ever since Sandy Hook Massacre, these students from Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School may at last have brought us to the tipping point. These young people weren't just indignant and they weren't just filled with hope. They were also pretty darn savvy. Within four days after those shootings in Florida, these students at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School had given their nascent movement a name. Never again. A concrete policy goal. Stricter background checks for all gun buyers. A plan for a national protest. The March for Our Lives schedule for next weekend. Emily Witt notes that the student leaders knew that the headline industrial complex grants only a very narrow window of attention. But these students made the most of that window and they widened it. Now these students may have been coached by their elders or they may simply have had this intuitive sense of what you need to do to build a movement. You begin with passion and with a very clear sense of purpose, what you want to see done. You figure out how to engage the opposition on your own terms. Enough with all the prayers and condolences. Let's look to the elephant in the room. You establish a network and you keep expanding it until it cannot be ignored. And you find ways to leverage media coverage which in turn keeps the pressure on our legislators. And when all of this happens, Naomi Klein writes, you surprise the hell out of yourselves by being united and focused and determined. As you can tell, I don't have a whole lot of confidence that the demagogue currently degrading his eye office and undermining our democracy. I have little confidence that he will either get his act together or be impeached anytime soon. But a patient and resistant and persistent resistance can in all of its myriad manifestations, such a resistance can prevent Mr. Trump from turning his worst impulses into public policy. Now since each one of us as individuals is limited as to how much time we've got and how many resources that we can expend on this effort, we need to find ourselves, each of us an issue or two that touches us most profoundly, engage with it and stick to it. And if there is any kind of silver lining to the current presidency, it is that Mr. Trump has spawned an insurgency that it may be impossible to suppress. The political arena today is being flooded with voices that the powerful once felt safe to ignore and that they can do so no longer. As Chuck Collins of the Institute of Public Policy put it, there is a fundamental realignment going on in our society. Younger people especially are not buying the old stories. Some kick-ass movements are emerging and as a member of the older generation, Collins writes, my job is either to support them or just get the hell out of the way. Blessed be Adam. Our Unitarian Universal Service Committee does wonderful work throughout the globe promoting justice, sustainability and peace. Your gifts today will be given in their entirety to our Unitarian Universal Service Committee. Please be generous. Just thank you for your monetary gifts either to First Unitarian Society or to the institutions that we support. And we also are thankful for those who volunteer their time to help our services run smoothly and today those people included Mark Schultz, our sound operator and Smiley was our lay minister, Corinne Perrin, the greeter at the door when you came in, our ushers Michael Lossy and Smiley, Christopher McKelvie and Karen Jager. Hospitality will be provided by Jeannie Hills and Blaise Thompson, so we thank all of you. And we do also gather each week as a community of memory and of hope and to this time and place, we bring our whole and sometimes our broken selves. We carry with us the joys and sorrows of the recent past seeking here a place where these might be received and celebrated and shared. There was one entry in our Cares of the Congregation book that lives outside the middle doors today. And so we all wish that we can send, we hope that we can all send healing thoughts to Glenna Ellis, one of our elders here who is frequently here on Sunday mornings. But Glenna unfortunately suffered a heart attack in the early hours of this morning and is now resting at the UU intensive care across UW intensive care across the way. So our very best wishes and our heartfelt prayers to Glenna Ellis this morning. And in addition to that concern, just mentioned, I would also acknowledge any unspoken joys or sorrows that remain among us. And as a community of concern and caring, we also hold those close to our hearts. Let us participate in, share in just a moment or two of silence in the spirit of hope and empathy. And so by virtue of our brief time together today, may our burdens be lightened and our joys expanded. Please turn now to our closing hymn, number 163. And I invite you to rise in body or in spirit. Please be seated for the benediction and the postlude. We close with these powerful words from Audrey Lord. I have come to believe that what is most important to me must be spoken, made verbal and shared, even at the risk of having it bruised or misunderstood. We can sit in our corners mute forever while our sisters and our brothers and ourselves are wasted, while our children are distorted and destroyed, while our earth is poisoned. We can sit in our safe corners as mute as bottles and we will still be no less afraid. We are going to die. If not sooner than later, whether or not we have ever spoken ourselves. My silence has not protected me. Your silence will not protect you. So let us recall the times we have remained silent. And then let us find our voices. Blessed be.