 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 Gretler, and on behalf of the congregation, I want to extend a special welcome to visitors and all other regulars who are with us this morning. We are a welcoming congregation, so whoever you are and wherever you are in your life's journey, we celebrate your presence among us. As we gather in this place and this time, let us remember we are all visitors in this life. We come together to find meaning and hope with all the other visitors in this life. Let us join our hearts and minds together as we celebrate life together. I invite you now to join me in a few moments of silence for contemplation, meditation, prayer, as we settle in and come fully into this time and place together. Good morning. We're going to sing a hymn that is probably unfamiliar to many of you. Number 116, I'm On My Way, is going to be the easiest hymn you've ever had to learn on the fly because it's call and response. I'm going to be the leader so you can respond and repeat back what you hear from me and if you want to sing along with me, that is fine. I don't think anyone will mind. If you want to echo me, then you'll be singing along with Reverend Doug who will sing with you and we echo, echo, echo and then at the end we sing, I'm On My Way, great God, I'm On My Way, all together each time. Please rise and body your spirit. I'm On My Way, freedom land, I'm On My Way, great God, I ask my sister, come and go with me, ask my sister, come and go with my sister, great God, I'm On My Way, I ask my brother, I ask my brother, come and my brother. If they say no, I'll go anyhow, if they say no, I'll go anyhow, I won't turn back, I'm On My Way and I won't turn back. Antoine the Saint-Exupéry reminds us, if we want to build a ship, don't drum up people to collect wood and don't assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea. Our chalice lighting words are found in your order of service, if you will join your voice with mine as we spark the flame. As together we say, as we kindle the flame of our faith, may we remember that vision is a choice in every moment we look forward or behind to the hopeful horizon or the hard road at our feet, to those already in the circle and those who have been shut out. We return today to remember that we become the vision we embrace. May our time together today help us choose wisely and with courage. Let's take a moment to turn to each other and offer a greeting. Hello. Beautifully done. You sparked beautifully. Good morning, Sandy. Thank you. So anyone who would like to come forward, anyone who would like to see the pictures of close and personal, please come up and join me for our time together. One is welcome, definitely. All this month we are thinking about what we want for the future of our lives and for this congregation. And one of the things we'll talk about today is that life is always full of big changes and those changes do things to how we feel, how we feel about life. And so I wanted to read you a story that explores that I think in a very helpful way. It is after the fall, how Humpty Dumpty got back up again by Dan Sattat. And many of you have probably heard this story before, but it is really good. So it's good for us to revisit it. And the pictures will be available behind me for everyone. My name is Humpty Dumpty. This was my favorite spot high up on the wall. I know it's an odd place for an egg to be. But I loved being close to the birds. One day I fell. I'm sort of famous for that part. Folks called it the Great Fall, which sounds a little grand. It was just an accident, but it changed my life. Fortunately, all of the king's men managed to put me back together. Well, most of me. There are some parts that couldn't be healed with bandages and glue. After that day, I became afraid of heights. I was so scared that it kept me from enjoying some of my favorite things. I walked past the wall every day, and I would think about climbing the ladder again. I really missed the birds in being high above the city, but I could never do it because I knew that accidents can happen. Exactly. I eventually settled for watching the birds from the ground. It wasn't the same, but it was better than nothing. Then one day, an idea flew by. Getting planes was harder than I thought. It was easy to get cuts and scratches, but day after day I kept trying and trying until I got it just right. My plane was perfect, and it flew like nothing could stop it. I hadn't felt that happy in a long time. It wasn't the same as being up in the sky with the birds, but it was close enough. Unfortunately, accidents happen. They always do. It looks like the airplane ends up back on the wall. I almost walked away again, but then I thought about all the time I had spent working on my plane and all the other things that I had missed. I decided I was going to climb that wall, but the higher I got, the more nervous I felt. I didn't want to admit it. I was terrified. I didn't look up. I didn't look down. I just kept climbing one step at a time until I was no longer afraid. Maybe now you won't think of me as that egg who was famous for falling. Hopefully you'll remember me as the egg that got back up and learned how to fly. In some ways, by that big change, he discovered new and important things about himself, didn't he? That's part of what brings us here, is to keep discovering new things about our lives and about each other. We have a lot of help. For one thing, the world around us is always changing. For instance, right now, we're moving into a change of the season. We have been in summer for many, many weeks, and there's more coolness in the air. The leaves are slowly turning, and it's becoming fall. We honor and celebrate that change as well, exactly. We will sing together a song that helps us think about the importance of the changing season, hymn number 51, Lady of the Season's Laughter. Thank you for sharing this story with me this morning. I hope the classes are great, and we'll see you at the end of the service. Enjoy. In preparation for this morning's reflection, a reading by shared voices from Dan and Perry, and a reading that we're calling The Trapeze. Sometimes I feel that my life is a series of trapeze swings. I'm either hanging on to a trapeze bar swinging along, or a few moments in my life hurtling across space in between trapeze bars. Most of the time, I spend my life hanging on to my trapeze bar of the moment. It carries me along at a certain steady rate of swing, and I have the feeling that I'm in control of my life. I know most of the right questions, and even some of the right answers. But once in a while, as I'm merrily, or not so merrily, swinging along, I look out ahead of me in the distance, and what do I see? I see another trapeze bar swinging toward me. It's empty, and I know that this new trapeze bar has my name on it. It is my next step, my growth, my aliveness, coming to get me. In my heart of hearts, I know that for me to grow, I must release the grip on this present well-known bar to move on to the next bar. Each time it happens to me, I hope that I won't have to grab the new one. But I know that I must totally release my grasp on the old bar, and for some moment in time, I must hurtle across space before I can grab on to the new bar. Each time, I am afraid that I will miss, that I will be crushed on the unseen rocks in the bottomless chasm between the trapeze bars. But I do it anyway. Perhaps this is the essence of what the mystics call the faith experience. No guarantee, no net, no insurance policy. But you do it anyway, because somehow, to keep hanging on to that old trapeze is no longer on the list of alternatives. It's called transition, and I have come to believe that it is the only place real change occurs. I mean real change, not the pseudo change that only lasts until the next time my old buttons get punched. I've noticed that in our culture, this transition zone is looked upon as a no thing, a no place between places, the scary, confusing, disorienting nowhere that must be gotten through as fast and unconsciously as possible. But those moments should be honored, even savored. Yes, with all the feelings of pain and fear and being out of control that can, but not necessarily do, accompany transitions, they are still the most alive, growth filled, passionate, expansive moments in our lives. It can be terrifying, it can also be enlightening, in the true sense of the word, hurtling through the void, we just may learn how to fly. Hear ends the reading. Continue exploring this month's theme of vision. If you were part of the congregation last week, I explored with you a particular understanding of how we engage in that vision by bringing each our own understanding of our life in a deeper sense. How we begin where we are with the human spirit that is within each and every person comprised of our thoughts, our feelings, our experiences and memories, the sense of our self, that essence that makes us uniquely who we are. And from that place of deep truth, we seek to connect with the thread of purposefulness that returns us again and again to a place of meaning in our lives. And from that place of meaning, we shape a vision for our life, sometimes explicitly, sometimes by its implication, sometimes just by living. One of the most essential components of the conversation about vision then is our transcending and transformative personal vision that we bring to the table. That is always a crucial place of grounding for the conversation if it is to be authentic. But there is also the deep grounding of your neighbor's vision of her, his life that opens up the conversation to new levels of richness and, yes, complexity. And then there's more. As I talked about last week, always the deep abiding hunger of the world around us calls us to pay attention and make its voice part of the conversation as well. So there is a lot for us to think about as we prepare in this time where we have acknowledged that we know we are in transition, all of the various elements and voices that we wish to fold together to do the important work. For a few minutes, I will explore what this time of transition asks of us, why it is so important that we engage in conversation during this time. The thing is, transition is already something you know very, very well. You have been through it time and time again. You have likely changed careers. Many of you have moved from another city. Some of you have moved from one country to another. You have lost jobs, you have taken care of and eventually lost parents. You have been left by someone that you have committed your life to and some of you have done the leaving. You have had kids that have moved out and sometimes back in again. We are all, if we're lucky, aging. And so retirement is something that we may eventually encounter. And in the meantime, our retirement accounts may go up and down alarmingly. Our bodies will age and therefore disease and change will be a part of our lives. We will have babies. We will blend families. Over and over again, the cycle of life will force us to encounter change in transition. So we begin with the reality that you already know a lot about what I'm talking about. And yet organizations also, again and again, encounter significant change. This summer, you let go of the familiar and exhilarating, the resilient and tangible trapeze bar of Reverend Michael Shuler's presence as your lead minister to this congregation. And as many of you know, we are working intentionally in this time to shape a new understanding of an exciting and collaborative shared ministry with Reverend Kelly Crocker and adding to the mix the wonderful talents of Karen Bringlesen and Drew Collins to our professional staff worship team. And we continue to work with an amazing gifted staff and incredible congregational leaders. There is a lot going on that is powerful change. And for the coming months, I will work with you as an intentional transition period minister with the clarity that I cannot fill the ministry position here. I will instead help you journey through this time, but I am not the next trapeze bar. I couldn't do it if I wanted to. I am not here to replace Reverend Michael, but I'm also not here to be not Reverend Michael. I am here to embody my own understanding of what I'm called to do in ministry to give you yet another example of what that looks like. But most of all, and what it is really all about is to create a certain time and space for you to do this work of transition. To do what I can to actually make you not too hasty to even look for the next trapeze bar yet. To encourage you if you can to enjoy the flight between trapeze bars even and especially if you suffer from fear of flying as so many of us do. At least to understand how important this time and this process really is. Not just to us as a community, but in so many ways to each and every one of you. So we are here to do essential and important work together to understand the real essence of this time and to take full advantage of it. To assist us in thinking about that I turn to the work of William Bridges and his book Managing Transition. He reminds us that many organizations have discovered the power of what he calls the neutral zone, the time when what was certain about our past has left us and what seems more certain about the future has not yet arrived. He talks about the importance of understanding even in the midst of our anxiety about change that this is a rare and powerful opportunity for each and every one of us. There is a chance in this upheaval for us to do new and interesting things. We have the opportunity, the possibility if we choose to take it to pursue this time with great energy and with courage. Andrejid reminds us one does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time. Well, our time at sea won't be that long, but it will feel at times very intense. And there will be all sorts of things going on, both outside of us, but to be honest within each of us as well. Now I am not a trapeze artist returning to this metaphor and if I were to partake literally in the metaphor of the trapeze, it might not go so well and actually would turn into an entirely different kind of metaphor, sort of an end of life metaphor as a matter of fact. But if we are to learn from those who do that trapeze artistry successfully, they tell us some important skills that we actually have been practicing for a long time in our own transitions. They tell us that in order to let go of that trapeze bar and soar through the air and successfully connect with the next bar, they have done a lot of practicing to do that well. They have learned how to focus their attention quite amazingly and with incredible purpose. They have learned to engage their entire senses to pay attention in that moment of free flight, to not allow it to be a time of tumultuousness but a time of clarity, a time of momentum, a time of using that motion in a certain powerful and skillful way. We could learn a lot from taking seriously that metaphor because there's also a lot in this time that can go awry. One thing that bridges over and over again, observed when people are in the midst of transition is that there are all sorts of difficult things that happen. Congregations, organizations become anxious and if they become too anxious, they behave badly with each other. They become disoriented and doubtful about the possibility of a good future and in that, often productivity, even in the most skilled organization, will drop and old issues will rear their ugly heads again and gain new power. Some people will want to rush through that time as quickly as possible and move forward towards the new and some people will use this opportunity to once again beat the old drum of making First Unitarian great again by going back to the good old days when it was comfortable and familiar. But neither the hurrying forward or the looking behind will really allow you to be present to the power of now. So in the midst of this upheaval, whatever will allow you to reframe what this time is about into a time of possibility, not just for this congregation, but in your own life as well, that this time of change will allow you to see and experience things in a new and transformative way. Maybe to help you think a little bit differently about it, I will use a related but slightly different metaphor. I will invite you to understand this time as a series of random moments. But to understand what I mean by random moments, I will return to one of the original meanings of the word random. Random is that instant when a horse is galloping at full speed and in that extraordinary state of momentous movement, all four hooves are off the ground and for a split second the horse is no longer earthbound. What if encountering a new era in this place or in your life was a time to embrace the power of your freedom as it points toward the lift that results from total immersion and surrender to the truths that reveal themselves? What if what seems to be adrift from all that is grounding and stabilizing may offer us the chance to rest in the wisdom that we are enfolded in possibility, where much is in flux, much is possible? I invite you to percolate on some important questions about this time. If you could give yourself to the possibility of the future of this congregation, what would you, as you sit here this morning, most hope for, for this place? And just as importantly, what would you be willing to work for to bring about the change in this place? And because it is always also about you, in your own life right now, what are the places that seem to be uncertainty that you could choose to see as times of creative exploration? What is happening for you now today that might be calling you to explore something new and powerful? Over and over again in our lives, we encounter experiences, sometimes metaphorical, sometimes not so allegorical or metaphorical, where we are on the precipice. One of the many times that I have found myself thinking as a minister, how did I get myself into this situation, was a moment where I found myself standing on a plank, attached to a tree about 75 feet in the air, nothing really to hold onto, just a rope attached to my body, staring down at 25 other people, all of whom happened to be clergy, none of whom I even remembered their names at that moment, and they were all staring up at me. I was about as uncomfortable and exposed at that moment as I can imagine. But what was fascinating, especially in memory's eye, is that in that moment, I was also feeling magically alive. So how I got there was that many years ago, in the midst of a lot of changes in my life, I enrolled in the pastoral leadership program at Seattle University. The program encouraged people who were ministers, who had served in their setting of ministry for many years to come together and explore in their current life in ministry, what was leadership about? How did they understand their ministry? What was their lived theology of ministry? What was the world around them calling them to do now? And to get us going and to build the team, we began with an all day retreat where we did low and high ropes course work together. And at the end of this day, we culminated with this exercise where we each were invited to climb up onto this tree with a belay around us, stand on the edge of this plank, yell out to the world our intention for the coming year in this program, and then fling ourselves off of that plank into the air. Well, let me just say that, one, the idea of climbing a ladder is terrifying to me. Transferring myself to a high perch is also terrifying to me. And maybe a little surprisingly, the idea of calling out to the world something that I really deeply personally care about, also not one of my favorite things to do every day anyway. So there I was. And as I stood there for a moment, there were some things that I knew for certain. I knew that my 11-year relationship had just come to an end a few months before that, and I felt utterly adrift in my life. I knew in some very powerful and real way that in the coming months or years, it would be time for me to lead the congregation that I had served for what felt like a very long time. I could see that trapeze bar heading my way. And to be honest, I have no earthly idea anymore what I yelled out as I flung myself off of that perch. Probably what was most on my mind, however, was that I not soil myself in front of my peers. And I am happy to say I actually succeeded in that intent that day, so score for me. But the thing is, it didn't really matter what I said in that moment. What really mattered was that in that moment, I gave myself fully to that moment. And I allowed myself to be carried from that perch and to move forward and out. And I remember vividly the dizzying moment when I leaped in that excruciating and eternal time when I felt held by the arms of oblivion. And then I tore through the placenta to the reality of a plummeting freefall and plummet I most assuredly did. But somehow, paradoxically, in that horrifying moment, I also felt paradoxically utterly safe in the world, confident in the care of my colleagues holding that rope, not knowing them well at all, but knowing that they too would be invited to stand where I was and take their turn in falling. And it was important, life-saving for us each to do what we could to keep the other safe. And we did. I realize now that it was the giving myself to that trust of that process and of the process of my life and of the possibilities that were at work, whether I knew they were or not in that moment and in every scary moment. That is what made the difference. And the same is true for each and every one of you. Whether we're talking about something in your life right now that feels overwhelming or the prospect of what this congregation will look like in a few months, much less years, what would it feel like to give yourself fully to the conversation, to use this time bravely and well and with love for yourself and to each other? How would it feel to be vulnerable to each other and talk about what really matters and to together gallop forward into the future? Nicky Giovanni tells us, a lot of people resist transition and therefore they never allow themselves to enjoy who they are. Embrace the change, no matter what it is. Once you do, you can learn about the new world you're in and then take advantage of it. In the coming months, in our work together, in your own life, may a spirit such as that random horse in flight be yours. May it help you find that larger vision for this congregation and for your life and blessed be. Again and again, every week throughout the service, we are offered the opportunity to practice that power of transformation. And the offering is actually one of the most meaningful places to do that. It asks us to think about the realities of our life, the gifts we have been given, the things that feel hard in our lives, and to choose in that moment to decide what we can give generously, what gifts we have to offer. This morning, we are given the opportunity to do that not only for this congregation, but to share with the native vote program of the Wisconsin League of Conservation Voters. That has been encouraging a higher percentage of Native American voters for years now with great success. In this time when voting is such an essential part of bringing forward our country, may we find a place of generosity to support this work. As our offering is now given and received, may a spirit of abundance and love guide us. We appreciate the many gifts of those who helped our service this morning. On sound, we thank Mark Schultz. Our greeter today was Lynn Scoby. Usher's this morning were Dale Carter, Mary Ann Newman, Elizabeth Barrett, and Sam Bates. Our coffee this morning is being served by Jean Hills. The welcome table is being staffed by Dorot Bergen and our lay ministers, Anne Smiley. I also want to invite you to stop by the Journey Circles Information Table in the Commons after service. Journey Circles are our new small covenant groups that will focus on the congregation's monthly themes. They are an integral part of the theme-based ministry that you are hearing so much about. Our Journey Circles will offer the gift of listening to one another and attentiveness to each person's thoughts, ideas, and reflections. Guided by the monthly themes, a connection to and engagement with others from our faith community is at the heart of this work. Journey Circles will connect each other to one another and to the greater whole. We invite you to peruse the information in the Commons and to sign up for a Journey Circle. And in the cares of the congregation, we come together as a community each week to acknowledge that we bring joys and sorrows written on our hearts, but also in this place that we give and receive love together and offer mutual strength. And so in this place, we remember some of the things both spoken and unspoken written, but sometimes only written still within us, each of us. And so today, we hold and remember. Our hearts are with P.K., who is struggling with the passing of his wife from cancer after 40 years of marriage. We also honor Liz and Bill Wessel, who ask us to welcome Danielle Avery Wessel into the world. She and her parents live in the Seattle area. We also remember that this week in Middleton, we became yet another place that has experienced an active shooter incident. And on that same day in the United States, there were two other incidents. And here in Middleton, that incident actually impacted some members of the congregation's lives directly. And throughout the country, it added yet more lives lost to gun violence. And so we keep in mind the power of that in our lives. For a moment, may the power of breath itself and our presence here draw us into this moment, into a place of deep thought, deep connection, deep calling to find ways to act for love and justice. So may it be. As we move towards the end of our service, I invite us to rise in all the ways that we do and join our voices together in hymn number 1,018. Come and go with me. Come and go with me to that land. Come and go with me to that land. Where I'm bomb and go with me. Where I'm bomb in that land. There'll be justice in that land. There'll be justice in that land. There'll be justice in that land. There'll be justice in that land. Where I'm bomb, be justice in that land. Where I'm bomb. There'll be singing in that land. There'll be singing. Place, what might it look like to learn from a stallion's ecstatic encounter with random? Well, it would invite us again and again to give ourselves to the momentum of life, but to remember that when we touch ground, we touch love. We touch connection to the Earth itself. We reconnect with the power much older than who we are. May that journey, all of it, carry us forward into this time. We extinguish this light, but not the light of wisdom, not the fire of passion and justice, not the warmth of love and compassion. Those remain in your life until you gather in this place again. Before you move into your afternoon, let's take another moment together. Be seated together and enjoy the gift of music.