 Good morning and 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 Kelly Crocker, and on behalf of the congregation, I would like to extend a special welcome to visitors. We are a welcoming congregation, so whoever you are, and wherever you are on your life's journey, we celebrate your presence among us. This would be a great time to silence your cell phones as I invite you into a few moments of silence. For contemplation, meditation, prayer, as we settle in and come fully into this time and place together. And I invite you to rise in all the ways we do for our opening hymn, number 121. This is the hour, the time has come, mindful of our responsibilities as leaders of this faith and guardians of this living tradition. We call upon that great cloud of witnesses, those who came before, those who are here now, and those who have yet to come. Please join in the chalice lighting as printed in your order of service, as together we say, we seek their presence, love, and support in this place at this hour. We kindle this flame to light their path and call them near as we undertake this sacred work. I invite you to turn and greet your neighbors. It can come forward. I have a story to share this morning. I'm looking for some young people to join me. I get heart. Oh, you made it. You made it with all this snow and all this wind and all this rain. This has been weird weather, I think. Oh, here comes some more. Come on down. We're so glad everyone's here today. You are the brave souls who came out in this winter weather. I have a story called Drawn Together. I wonder, raise your hand if you like to draw. Anyone out there? Some of you? Oh, good. Do any of you have grandparents or some of us? Yeah. Yeah. Well, yeah. This book is about someone who likes to draw with their grandparent. On my last question, do any of you speak or read the language called Thai? No. Okay. Well, there's some Thai in this book, so we'll just have to do our best with that. So it starts like this. Oh, I forgot to tell you. This is a hard book because there's not very many words in it. Has lots of pictures, so we're going to have to read the pictures together. And we see a car and someone with a backpack getting out of the car and going up to a door with a doorbell. And what happens? Does someone answer the door? And who do you think that is? Maybe it's grandpa. Yeah. They give a little bow to each other as a greeting, and then they go to have something to eat together. And what do you think is happening here? I think the kid is having a hot dog and french fries and maybe a little salad. And the grandpa is going to eat with some chopsticks, with some ramen noodles and some hard-boiled eggs. And they're sitting across from each other, and the kid says, so, what's new, grandpa? And then what's the grandpa say? We don't know because it's in Thai. But the fine print at the beginning of the book says, he's saying, what's new? What's new with you? And they don't know what to say to each other, so they just keep eating. Then after dinner or lunch or whatever they're having, they go to watch TV. And there's a guy on TV who says, dragon. And grandpa in Thai says, would you like to watch something else? And the kid says, can we watch something else? But they don't know that. They're asking the same thing of each other, and so they give each other side eyes. And so then the kid decides to get up from watching TV. And what does the kid do? What's this? Paper and colors, markers, yes. And the grandpa's like, what? And look what the kid's drawing, like this famous superhero, and the grandpa's really excited now. So grandpa goes out to go get something, and grandpa's like, what's going on? Grandpa comes back with a sketchbook. Right when I gave up on talking, he says, my grandfather surprised me by revealing a world beyond words. And in a flash, we see each other for the first time. All the things we could never say come pouring out. And we build a new world that even words can't describe. But just when we're closer than ever, that old distance comes roaring back. Okay, here's some more pictures we have to read. So the grandpa is grabbing for the wand, is making beautiful pictures. And the grand kid grabs the paintbrush and says, this time I'm not afraid, because I know that together we can make our way across. So I don't know if you see this detail, but there's a little dragon in this bridge that they built together. So they turn that roaring dragon into a bridge. Now after years of searching for the right words, we find ourselves happily speechless. So there's something about drawing together that they really enjoy. Let's see what happens after they hug. It looks like probably mom came to pick up the kid, and they're all hugging goodbye. And the kid has the paintbrush and grandpa is waving with the marker. That's an interesting story. It might not make a lot of sense. It's about drawing, and it's about connecting with people who might be kind of different from us. So I'm going to ask you to think about connecting with people in your RE class, different generations, and different interests. And while you go to your RE classes, we're going to sing you out. We're going to sing hymn number 148, let freedom span both east and west. We'll see you all later. Bruises are a celebrated part. It's not uncommon for players to take pictures of their biggest, most colorful shaped bruises. Bruises that go deep into your tissue and come out in amazing blues, purples, and blacks that eventually fade to greens, browns, and yellows. A few of my teammates even had bruises that never went away. They would get worse and worse. Sometimes these most sensitive bruises were invisible, lacking the loud color of bruises that would heal as if the skin itself had resigned itself to injury. When I first heard about the experience of microaggressions, I immediately related them to bruises in roller derby. Darryl Wings-Sue, who has studied microaggressions for a decade, defines them as the everyday, verbal, nonverbal, and environmental slights, snubs, or insults, whether intentional or unintentional that communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative messages to target persons based solely upon their marginalized group membership. A person from any marginalized group can be the target of microaggression. People of color experience them from white people. People of color experience them from men. People who are transgender experience them from cisgender people. People who are disabled experience them from the non-disabled. What's common to all microaggressions is that their experience is invalidating, dehumanizing, and demeaning. When a white woman clutches her purse as a black or Latino man approaches her, the hidden message being sent is that the black or Latino man and others like him are criminals. When an Asian American raised in the U.S. is complimented for speaking good English, the hidden message is, you are not a true American. You are a perpetual foreigner in your own country. When a female physician wearing a stethoscope is mistaken as a nurse, the hidden message is that women should occupy nurturing in that decision making roles, or that women are less capable than men. When a person uses the term gay to describe something they don't like, the hidden message is that being gay is associated with negative and undesirable characteristics. When the outfit worn by a TV reality show mom is described as classless and trashy, the hidden message is that lower class people are tasteless and unsophisticated. These are all microaggressions. There are many, many more. They all say, you do not belong, and the effect builds up over time. Someone who regularly experiences microaggressions becomes more and more aware of them. The bruise gets bigger and more sensitive until even the slightest touch is experienced as excruciatingly painful. Those who experience microaggressions suffer biologically, emotionally, cognitively, and behaviorally. May we choose to face the difficult truth that we are each sometimes unwitting perpetrators that cause pain to another, and may humility, love, and understanding allow us to be part of the healing process whenever possible. February in Wisconsin, especially February with weather like what we have had recently, can be hard to love. And yet I still try to find things to love about it. On February 14, I love thinking about love and the trust and transformation that are integral parts of intimate romantic partnerships. Throughout this month of black history, I love thinking about the love and the trust and transformation that has nurtured people of African descent to survive and thrive despite the cards being stacked against them. Lately, I have loved soaking up the wisdom from books that have recently won awards. And then sharing the love, trust, and transformation I have gleaned from those books with others. As some of you know, before I started seminary, I had spent over a dozen years as a librarian working in the field of children's books and young adult literature. The love for books is something I bring with me into the ministry, and I'm excited to be able to share this love with you. I also love getting the chance to work with young people. I love getting the chance to work with people of all ages, actually, and you may have seen that with me and the kids down here. The other weekend I got to work with the ninth graders. I hung out with them in their coming of age class, and I actually shared with them a little bit about my journey into ministry, but also I shared with them some picture books. In those classes, I invited the people to buddy up and read one of the many award-winning books I had brought in, including Drawing Together. And then I asked them to consider two questions. What in this book reminded you of Unitarian Universalist Principles? Or what in this book reminds you of something that happens here at First Unitarian Society? What I love about sharing quality books with people of all ages is that we have the opportunity to slow down long enough to reflect on what matters most. And so I invite you to think about that message for all ages book, Drawing Together. What resonated for you? What spoke to your values? We have two main characters, though they each have superhero alter egos. They come from two different generations and are bridging two distinct cultures. What in this book reminds you of our Unitarian Universalist Principles? And what in this book reminds you of something that happens here at First Unitarian Society? For me, there were several points in this book that took my breath away. The first was when the two characters see each other for the first time. Has that ever happened to you where you feel like you have been seen for exactly the person you are? It's a kind of scary experience. Being seen for exactly the persons we are, that means that we're seen for all of us. All my gifts, strengths, and talents, as well as my quirks, my insecurities, my shortcoming. I feel vulnerable when someone sees me wholly for who I am. And it also feels like a deep, deep blessing to be seen and to still be welcomed, accepted, and loved. Relatively recently, I felt especially seen when I was undergoing a summer-long internship as a hospital chaplain. My small group of four fellow chaplains and I would spend a good deal of time reflecting on our experiences with patients, but also reflecting on our reactions to the reflections of our experiences with patients. Of course, my reaction was unique to my own makeup, my composition as a human being, whether we measured it by the enneagram or the Myers-Briggs, the birth order, or any other number of factors. In our group, we had to come face to face with the realities of who we are, how we tick, what motivates us, what scares us. We had to know ourselves honestly and completely, and my colleagues helped hold up the mirror so I could see myself clearly. It felt vulnerable, and it was a gift, and it required deep trust in one another. Deep trust is also what I pick up as I reflect on the beginning of this book in which grandchild and grandfather see each other for the first time. There are three aspects in particular that I notice about these characters. The first is the characters are uniquely themselves, not replicas of one another. They have distinct styles, one with bold colors, the other with intricate line details, one with markers and wands as a medium, the other with brush and ink. Both are bold and courageous, using different tools for making their mark on the world. Not better or worse from each other, just different. They are authentically themselves. That requires trust. The second aspect I notice as I reflect on this book is that they are collaborative partners. One does not seem to be more in charge than the other. They are working together, but not with one character telling the other what to do and how to do it. You don't see the grandfather criticizing, but this is how we've always done it. You don't see the grandchild demanding that the grandfather speak in English. I see mutual respect and admiration. They are collaborators that requires trust. And third, they are using non-traditional methods to connect with one another. Watching didn't work. Breaking bread together didn't work. Watching TV together didn't work. Eventually they hit on something that did work. Their shared interest in art-making. Indeed, as the text says, they built a new world that even words cannot describe. Through drawing and painting, they tap into their creative powers together. That requires trust. This has important implications for our lives as well. For each of these three aspects, authenticity, collaboration, and creativity, trust is an important ingredient. It takes trust to show our true colors, sharing our authentic selves. It takes trust to share leadership and to collaborate with respect. It takes trust to try new and creative ways of building a new world. And truth be told, we are in desperate need of a new world. We must go beyond trust to transformation. The essay on roller derby bruises and microaggressions by Reverend Cooley reminds us that there are injuries, both seen and unseen, in this broken and hurting world. Our unitarian universalist principles call us to both bear witness to the reality of this world and to take action to make it better, to engage in transformation. Like what Alyssa read today, the essay by Reverend Cooley also includes the following. If we believe in the inherent worth and dignity of each person, and if we believe in the interdependent web of all existence, of which we are a part, then we must put in the effort to face our own failings. We must put in the effort to face our own failings. The drawn-together picture book shows us what that looks like when we face our own failings. Author Lay writes, just when we're closer than ever, that old distance comes roaring back. Here we see a gulf, an old distance, a chasm that represents our failings. Most times when we have fallen short or missed the mark, the gulf is so wide, so menacing, and feels so insurmountable. Has this ever happened to you? Suddenly an old distance is separating you from the people you want to be with, or from the places you want to go. This indeed is frustrating, overwhelming, debilitating, maybe scary, and saddening too. After all the work we've done, we are back to that experience of separation. Reverend Cooley gives a name to this particular kind of separation. She calls it microaggressions. They are hostile, derogatory, and negative. They target people based solely on their marginalized group membership. They are experiences that are invalidating, dehumanizing, and demeaning. Ouch, indeed. I don't know about you, but I certainly have experienced those moments where suddenly that gulf is seen again and my spirits sink. In my life, when I feel all the ways that racism and white supremacy culture have limited me and kept me in a box, and I feel all the violence that has been done to the bodies and souls and livelihoods of people of color and indigenous folks, I definitely feel that old distance. It shows up, out of the blue, unannounced and uninvited. It shows up when I misunderstand a comment on my Facebook feed. You see, Bev and I were trying to sell our car a while back, and so I posted a photo of it on Facebook. One of my friends, who is an African-American man, commented on my post saying, call me sister, and then giving a phone number. I personally did not remember him having a biological sister, but I suppose that she could probably indeed use a reliable car. It turns out he didn't make a typo. Rather, the mistake was mine. I had thought that he had meant to type my, as in call, my sister. Instead, he was using a term of endearment for me, as in call me, comma, sister, and I had not picked up on it. In that moment, that old distance, that cultural gap, came roaring back. It's a small example, but one that fills me with disappointment, nonetheless. Now that grand kid and grandfather, they give me hope in times like this. They find ways to transform their world, to bridge that old distance. As we talked about with the kids during the message for all ages, each character had to take on the tool of the other. So the grandfather picks up the wand, while the grandchild gets the paintbrush. As they actively fight that roar of that old distance in new and creative ways, the text reads, this time I'm not afraid, because I know that together, we can make our way across. I know together, we can make our way across. Here, again, we see their authentic selves working collaboratively in new and creative ways, using new tools in this instance. To me, this speaks of the ongoing work of bridging cultural gaps. We have to engage in the work again and again. It will never be completed. It's lifelong work. Reverend Cooley gives us some specific ways that together we can build bridges. She writes, it means learning about how we may cause harm to people, even unintentionally, and then working to make it right. It means using techniques, such as oops and ouch, when we have aired. It means recognizing that the impact of our words on others matters more than our intent. It means listening to the stories of others with humility and an open mind and heart. This, she writes, requires constant effort and does not come easy. And as with so much other work of this nature, we will break each other's hearts and fail over and over again. But if we let it, this is what will allow us to grow. Did you hear that? This constant effort, this work that breaks our hearts again and again, this has the potential to allow us to grow, to be transformed. At my seminary, we are acutely aware of the tenacity, that roar of the systemic nature of the dominant culture that privileges whiteness in such a variety of ways. In an effort to take steps to address this roar, both bearing witness to the brokenness and stepping into the trust required for transformation, my seminary has organized optional affinity group gatherings based on racial identity. So for example, when I was in Chicago last month for my weeks of face-to-face classes, I spent some time, some of my spare time, facilitating groups for white identified students who are interested in deepening our anti-racist identities, behaviors, and relationships. The gatherings required us to step into trust so that we could more honestly step towards transformation. Twice a week for three weeks we gathered, tentative at first, not sure how much we could really trust each other and how much we should share. Thankfully, that trust grew over time. And some of us are still communicating back from our homes scattered across the U.S., sharing both our heartbreaks as well as our micro-actions and micro-successes. It is like we are practicing building bridges. We are practicing the transformation of ourselves, which ultimately is a part of the transformation of our world. Like the characters in this book, my fellow seminarians and I are finding that transformation requires persistence, courage, and collaboration. It requires using new tools, growing trust, and building transformative bridges. This is ongoing healing work, and this is the work that will change ourselves and our world. Thankfully, we don't have to do this work alone, for we are here today, together, both trusting and transforming. As you see on the front of your order of service, the Reverend Mark Morrison Reid writes, the central task of the religious community is to unveil the bonds that bind each to all. There is a connectedness, a relationship discovered amid the particulars of our own lives and the lives of others. Once felt, it inspires us to act for justice. He's speaking of trust within a religious community and the transformation that can happen in our justice making. And then he continues, it is the church that assures us that we are not struggling for justice on our own, but as members of a larger community. The religious community is essential, for alone our vision is too narrow to see all that must be seen and our strength is too limited to do all that must be done. Together our vision widens and our strength is renewed. In the week ahead, may you see signs and symbols of trust and transformation popping up in your life wherever you look. May you remember how to tap into your authentic self as vulnerable as that feels at times. May you engage in collaborative leadership filled with respect and appreciation. May you collectively pick up new tools that will help you to creatively build a new world. Trust and transformation are possible my friends and we get to practice them together. Blessed be an amen. Each week we have an opportunity to transform our world by the giving of our financial gifts. Today's outreach offering is going to the Journey Mental Health Center whose mission is to improve people's lives by pioneering and sustaining effective services to treat mental health and substance abuse disorders. I invite you to give as generously as you are able. We appreciate the generosity of time and talent of all those who helped our service this morning. Our greeter was Patty Whitty, our ushers Allison Mix, John Mix, Pamela McMullen and Tom Dolmage. Our lay minister is Dorrit Bergen. In the kitchen making coffee, Jeannie Hills and Trudy Carlson. And if you have any questions or would like more information about First Unitarian or our programs, Karen Rose Gredler will be at our welcome table which is directly across from the kitchen and she would love to speak with you. We have a couple of announcements. The members of the interim ministry transition team will be available after the service in the commons. They welcome your questions and your conversations. And also during our coffee hour, a representative of the UUs for justice in the Middle East will be petitioning in support of our First Amendment right of free speech for human rights in Palestine. And finally, our free to believe class will be selling cookie jars after services today to raise money for our partner church program. Through this program, we support the education and the music program of our partner church village in Najoyta. This is the student's faith in action project for the year. So they will be out there in the commons and they hope to see you at their table. On the fourth weekend of the month, First Unitarian Society shares our joys and sorrows by lighting candles with one another. If you came here today carrying a sorrow so heavy that you need the help of this community to bear its weight, or if you bring a joy, that is simply too great to not be expressed. Now is the time for you to speak. The sharing of joys and sorrows is our time in the spirit of acceptance and support to share with one another some special event or circumstance that has affected your life or the life of a loved one in recent days or weeks. Anyone who wishes is invited to come up front, light a candle, and using the microphone provided by Dorot, briefly share with us your message. You may also come forward to wordlessly light a candle and return to your seat. Or if you're unable to come forward to light a candle, just raise your hand and we'll light a candle for you and bring you the microphone. I now open the floor for the sharing of our joys and sorrows. I light this candle for my uncle Si Olson, my one of my mother's last two living brothers. Growing up, he was a very important figure in my life and that family was, we spent a lot of time together. And he was with me the day that my father died. And so I light this candle hoping he'll have good health, but knowing that it's probably his days are numbered. I'm lighting a candle for my cousin Gary who died very suddenly Sunday night of sepsis, even behind his parents and his wife and three teenage kids. And we're, our family's all thinking of them. I'm lighting this candle for my 11 year old son, Joss. Some of you have followed this, some of you have not, but he's autistic. And last spring he had to go up north to be actually at a facility for about 30 days because he was in emotional distress and was a danger to himself and others. And I'm happy to report that this semester at Schenke Elementary, he increased his GPA by 0.5 or more which got him a Gap Achievement Award. The people at Schenke have been amazing to him. The community here has been amazing to him. And I think I wanted to share that joy that he had this major accomplishment and it's due to the, not just his own willpower and efforts but to the support of the community around him. So thank you all for helping him on this journey. I've never used this before. I recently. Closer, okay. I recently lost a son to cancer. And our family was hoping to have a memorial service that would really show what he had meant to us with the loving care and the times, everything they did for us in this church made this a glorious memorial service that everyone admired and I will never, ever forget all the time and effort they put in to satisfy our wish for our son. Thanks very much, Glenna. I call you Glenna. I want to light a candle for a colleague of mine and a close friend who got some bad news recently about her health. Being a transplant in Madison, like 90% of us seem to be, Monica is kind of was, kind of my mom away from mom here in town. And she's in my thoughts. I love her very much. I'm gonna be sitting in the surgical waiting room tomorrow morning over at UW. A good friend of mine has to have a heart procedure that carries a certain amount of risk. So I'm gonna ask for good thoughts for her for tomorrow morning. Sorry, I have a cold. I just wanted to light a candle for my very good friend, Ellis Avery, who just died this past week at age 46 from a very rare form of cancer. She's a wonderful author. And I urge you to look up her novels. And she was just a bright, wonderful spirit. So I just wanted to light a candle for her. I'd like to talk about a joy. And that's the International Festival. As you were putting this up, I was thinking about it. There were people of all different ways of speaking in different countries that they've come from. And we got together for dance and music and food. And if you missed it this year, don't miss it next year because it's just a wonderful time for everybody to get together and to be one. Did I say it's free? Well, I one last candle for all those joys and sorrows that are still residing in the depths of our hearts. Together, let us sing our closing hymn, number 95. There is more love somewhere. I invite you to stand in body and or spirit. We are the ones we have been waiting for. We are not perfect, but we are perfectly fitted for this day. We are not without fault, but we can be honest to face our past as we chart a new future. We are the ones we have been waiting for. May we be bold and courageous to chart that new future. May we have faith in a future that is not known. We are the ones we have been waiting for. As we extinguish our chalice, we know that the love of community and the fire of commitment remain in our hearts until we meet again. I invite you to be seated for one last gift of music.