 Both blind and trapped, and one of you is hanging by your knee because of the other two. They're really good at keeping up with you. They're the best to be a couple. And then most of you become an actual 8-month-old and weigh a hundred pounds. But they have to be there when you're done. And then the other person needs to be to know that when she lets go, when she finds herself there, there's a power to change her life. And you can't just do what's best for you. You have to keep doing what you're practicing and you need to practice it. And realize that you are really good at it. And when I talk to you, I think it's really easy. And I think it's just that too. It's not like a blind person. God didn't choose to see that. They just, you've done this, you've practiced it. You know, each other, you start working on it. And our hands are going to be dry. And so they don't go through what they want to do. They just try to do what they want to do and try to do it. And I, unfortunately, don't know what it sounds like. So I see the power to change your life. Now, I'm on this to theHD. I'm on this to theHD. She's... She says, the temperate part is going to be a little way away from... It's going to be a little way... He told me that the temperance was my advice. The temperance was my advice. The temperance was my advice. But your advice to the monster is going to be the temperance. My advice is going to be the temperance. Would you please join me in a moment of centering silence? The ring hymn is 1029. Good morning. 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 Dorit Bergen, 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 happen to be on your life journey, we celebrate your presence among us. Newcomers are encouraged to stay for our fellowship hour after the service and to visit the library, which is directly across from the center doors of this auditorium. In your drinks and your questions, members of our staff and lay ministry will be on hand to welcome you. You may also look for persons holding teal, stoneware, coffee mugs. These are FUS members knowledgeable about our faith community who would love to visit with you. Experience guides are generally available to give a building tour after each service. And I will say that it's a little unclear if we have one now. But if you would like to learn more about the sustainably designed addition or our national landmark meeting house, please meet near the large glass window on the left side of the auditorium right after the service. We welcome children to stay for the duration of the service, but if a child needs to talk or move around, the child haven or the commons are good places to retire. The service can still be seen and heard from those areas. And speaking of noise, this would be a good time to turn off all electronic devices that might cause a disturbance during the hour. I'd now like to acknowledge those individuals who help our services run smoothly. Our sound operator is Mark Schultz. Finally, minister is Ann Smiley. Your greeter was Lynn Scoby. Usher's are Helen Dyer, Douglas Hill, and Ann Smiley. And coffee is being made for us by Jean Hills and Rick DeVita. Please note the announcements on the red floor's insert in your order of service, which describe upcoming events at the society and provide more information about today's activities. And I have three special announcements. Did you know that there are 118 teachers in our children's religious education program? These amazing FUS members give their time, their energy, and their talent to nurture our kids and help us grow our community. This month, we're showing our love for our teachers. On the bulletin board in the commons, if you'd like to thank a teacher, please walk over to the children's religious education table in the commons after service and add a thank you note to our bulletin board. Our ministerial intern, Eric Severson, will be leading services only three more times before his time with us ends in May. He would like to include more voices and be creative with those services and is looking for people, young and old, to help him. If you would like to do a reading or a little theater, tell a story or sing a song, please let him know by phone, email, or in person. Today's video interlude includes some rapid-fire rap lyrics, which are included as an insert today in your program. Eric would prefer that you look over the lyrics before or after rather than during the video so that you can appreciate the visual images as well. Again, welcome. We hope that today's service will stimulate your mind, touch your heart, and stir your spirit. Thank you to our musicians this morning. Our opening words are by Jessica Purple Rodella. Listen, listen to silence, listen to the wind, listen to the stars, hear trees, dance, dance to the beat of your neighbor's heart, dance to the rhythm of your childhood dreams. Sing, sing and hum a wordless tune to the song of your rushing blood and pray. Pray with a fever that makes you sweat through February snow. Pray with a fervor that gives you chills in July. Shout your prayer like a howl. Howl to the sound of your soul touches clouds and haunts the moon. Come, let us howl our hallelujahs. Come, let us pray and sing and celebrate. Come, let us worship together. I invite you to rise in body or in spirit and join in the words printed in your bulletin for our chalice lighting. We are the certain and the seeking, the lifers and the newcomers, the beloved and the broken-hearted, the insiders and the rejected, all of whom have found home in the extraordinary yet intimate communities of unitarian universalism. And whether you are certain or seeking, I invite you to say hello to your neighbor. And if we have anyone young or young at heart that would like to take part in a story, please come forward. Good morning, everyone. Today's story is going to be a bit different. We're going to tell a story together. Yes, it's true. I think we already have more people than our questions. So here's how it's going to work. I'm going to start a story and we're going to get to a part where I need an answer. We need to fill in a question and I'll go like this. And you guys raise your hands and I'll pick somebody for an answer. We're going to go, there's a lot of that. So we're going to build our story as we go along. When you give an answer, our volunteer is going to give you a sticker. So once you have a sticker, keep your hands down and let somebody else answer. Okay, that might be hard to do, but let's try to remember. And then at the end, we'll make sure everybody has a sticker. We'll make sure. So let's begin. Once upon a time, there was an animal. What kind of animal? There was a cat. Once upon a time, there was a cat. And the cat's name was, the cat's name was Momo. So we, once upon a time, we have a cat named Momo. And Momo lived, where did Momo live? Momo lived in a barrel. And the cat Momo lived in a barrel with, who did Momo live with? Momo the cat lived in a barrel with a cow named Penny. Oh dear. That sounds uncomfortable. So the inside of the barrel smelled like something. So the inside of the barrel smelled like bananas. So let me see if I got this right. Momo the cat lives in a barrel that smells like bananas with a cow named Penny. Thank you. So this barrel is surrounded by something. What was it surrounded by? By sand. So the barrel is surrounded by sand. So Momo and Penny, the cat and the cow, live in a barrel that smells like bananas in the middle of a desert, maybe. Well every day, Momo and Penny had a special day. And what day was that? They had a birthday. Every year, Momo and Penny had a birthday. Let's say they shared a birthday. But in order to celebrate a birthday, you need something. What do you need to celebrate a birthday? You need a celebration. What do you need to celebrate? What kinds of things do you need to celebrate? Candles. Yes, you could say we need candles for a cake, maybe. So Momo the cat and Penny the cow lived in a barrel that smelled like bananas. They had a birthday every year, but they needed candles. And the only place to get these candles was where? Was the grocery store. And how far away was the grocery store? Who hasn't answered yet? It's 200 miles away to this grocery store. And how long does it take them to go 200 miles? Infinity seconds, that sounds really hard. Yes, that's right here. How long did it take to go 200 miles? It went a cat? Huh, it went a cat. How long in time? How much time did it take to go 200 miles? Three seconds? Okay, there's consensus. Three seconds to go 200 miles. So Momo the cat and Penny the cow live in a barrel that smells like bananas in the middle of a desert. They have a birthday every year, but they need candles and they have to go to a grocery store 200 miles away in how many seconds? Three seconds. Wow. So that's a quick story. That's a quick journey. So let's see. They go to the grocery store and they see the candles in the grocery store, but there's something in the way. What's in the way? There's bread in the way. Wouldn't you know it? There's always bread in the way. So let's see. They put their heads together, Momo and Penny, and they came up with a plan. And Penny did something. What did Penny do to get the, Penny ate the bread? What a great solution. So while Penny ate the bread, Momo went and got the candles. And finally, after a lot of hard work in three seconds, 200 miles in three seconds, they got the candles for their birthday and they made their way home. And when they got back home, they were greeted by plants. They were greeted by plants. How beautiful to be greeted by plants in the desert. So they, they got home, they were greeted by, by plants. Momo, the cat and Penny, the cow and their barrel that smelled like bananas. They had the greatest birthday party ever. The end. Thank you all for sharing your story. If you did not get a sticker, see our volunteer right here. Thank you all. Let's go to class. I appreciate this opportunity to speak to you briefly about our upcoming annual campaign. In 1976, I walked into the landmark auditorium on a Thursday night looking to join the choir. I'd never heard of Unitarian Universalism, but I had heard that the FUS Choir accepted non-members. Now I had been raised a devout atheist. It didn't occur to me that joining the choir would mean attending religious services. By the time that Penny dropped, I was enjoying this singing so much that I decided to give the services a shot. After all, I was quite sure that I would be impervious to any potential attempts at conversion. 41 years later, this community has come to mean more to me than I could have imagined back then. It has given me a place to grow in loving-kindness toward others and towards myself, to continuously engage with many of life's most important questions, to join with others in giving service, in celebrating, in mourning, and in learning. I want our congregation to continue to thrive and to be a voice for justice and love in the larger community. This is my spiritual home, and I want it to be here for me, for us, and for others who may wander in for years and for decades to come. I've looked at my finances, and I have found ways, the ways here and there, which will allow me to increase my pledge. One of my particular hopes is that our combined pledges will make it possible for FUS to increase the hours for our social justice coordinator to full time. Finally, volunteering for the annual campaign is not the easiest job to take on. Whatever you have decided to pledge this year, I hope that you will warmly welcome the volunteer who calls you. Thank you. Open your arms, what I'm talking about, for that now. There's a people who's attracted in our soul, all the time, in the master of that time show. It's those people who know what to let me go, when you put their name back, quote, to the throat. There's us who snap people in a team, yo. Open your knees, so that they're a team, a sense for me, a spice for a team. When I look at them today, I look carefully, what do you know? There's me, no more questions and things that I can never see. It's funny how one thing leads to another. I saw that video come across on Facebook and I thought, that works for my service. But it also led me to one of our readings today by the Vice President of Strategic Initiatives at a group called Listen First Project, Kemi Adagoroye. One of the only things Americans today seem to agree on is that there are significant divides within the United States, a real disconnect that separates us from our fellow citizens. Refusing to listen to and interact with people who share different views has shielded us from clashes of opinion and kept us in the dark as to each other's thoughts and concerns. Being kept in the dark, unaware of how large swaths of the population think and feel has left many surprised each time a new political or social development has occurred. The divides started when we stopped listening to each other, but the divide got increased when we actively began to silence each other. People have spent time crafting isolated bubbles where they are surrounded by others who share their opinions and beliefs. One outside the bubble is muted and considered to be an enemy, a stranger, someone not worthy of being understood, only to be condemned. Time and again over the last year, news outlets and social media platforms have displayed vicious and vehement attacks between people who dare to have a difference of opinion. As a result, people responded by keeping their opinions close to the vest or choosing to go on the defensive, attacking opponents first and often not bothering to ask questions later. All I have seen are people utterly rejecting the opportunity to talk to others standing across the aisle, not even taking the time to respectfully ask why they were standing there in the first place. When we shut down, block out, distance, mute, dismiss, invalidate and deny others the right to express themselves, when we judge and vilify people for opinions that we don't fully understand, we only hurt ourselves. Shutting people out and shutting people up does no one any good. And it leaves individuals in the dark as to how large portions of society feel and think, and why they feel and think a certain way. It's a real problem when you don't know your fellow citizens. And that problem started when we stopped listening to and silenced our fellow citizens. The 2016 election cycle has revealed the cracks in our country, the stark dividing lines that are separating strangers, friends and loved ones. The effects of these revelations will not disappear in the night, but will persist so long as we continue to dismiss and deny each other the right to be heard. I don't want to be a part of that. I don't want to sit in my one-sided bubble or stay on my side of the aisle. I want to know my fellow citizens. I want to understand my neighbor. I want to do my part to help us learn and heal and grow, moving past the division of the last several months. So I'm reaching my hand across the aisle to listen and learn. Will you join me? And our second reading is along the same lines, but by New York Times columnist David Brooks. If America were a marriage, we'd need therapy. There has been so much bad communication over the past year, people talking and warring monologues past each other, ignoring the facts and using lazy stereotypes like elites and Trumpians to reduce complex individuals into simplistic categories. Meanwhile, our main candidates are poor connectors. We've got the self-enclosed narcissism of Donald Trump and, to a lesser degree, the mistrustful defensiveness of Hillary Clinton's campaign. As an antidote for all this, I've been reading the work of Martin Buber, the early 20th century Jewish theologian who dedicated his career to understanding deep intimacy. Buber is famous for the distinction between I-it relationships and I-thou relationships. I-it relationships come in two varieties. Some are strictly utilitarian. You're exchanging information in order to do some practical thing like getting your taxes done. But other I-it relationships are truncated versions of what should be deep relationships. You're with a friend, colleague, spouse or neighbor, but you're not really bringing your whole self to that encounter. You're fearful, closed or withdrawn, objectifying her, talking at her, offering only a shallow piece of yourself and seeing only a shallow piece of her. I-thou relationships, on the other hand, are personal, direct and dialogical. Nothing is held back. A thou relationship exists when two or more people are totally immersed in their situation, when deep calls to deep, when they are offering up themselves and embracing the other in some total unselfconscious way, when they are involved in mutual, animated describing. In our culture, we use phrases like finding oneself, finding your passion, loving yourself so you can love others. But Buber argued that it's nonsensical to think of the self in isolation. The I only exists in relation to some other. Some people go through life with a detached posture, trying to self-differentiate themselves and be more sophisticated than others. Those people tend to have mechanical relationships. Their feelings are self-enclosed. They don't get to experience the thou. Others adopt a guard down position that is open-hearted and open-minded. They regard others as unique persons and not objects. They have histories in which trust and vulnerability are rewarded. Such people experience moments of genuine dialogue. Buber described genuine dialogue as a sort of social flow. Teachers and students are learning with each other. An audience and an artist are lost together in a performance. Buber's writing reminds us to be intentional and brave about relationships. But it also has communal and political implications. Some organizations and leaders nurture open-hearted bonds. Some communities usually began, Buber wrote, with some sacred thou moment. Like the Exodus story for the Jews or the revolutionary struggles of the early Americans. Teachers connect current problems to that living effective center and set the table for situations of caring and trust. Today America is certainly awash in distrust. So many people tell stories of betrayal. So many leaders model combativeness, isolation and distrust. But the only way we get beyond depressing years like this one is at the level of intimacy. If Americans reconnect with the living center of the national story and they build vows at every level. Thank you for bringing such power to our service. At last week's Saturday service, Ros Woodward and James Morgan left us several questions to ponder. How do I learn what is upsetting to another unless they tell me it hurts? How do I, how do we have open and honest discussion around the issues and matters affecting all of us? What canon must we do? They suggested that finding answers begins not through self-censorship and political correctness but through the power of language with healing conversations, open and honest discussion and by getting to know others as we wish them to know us. Today I'd like to build on those ideas. Author Deborah Tannen in her book 27 Years Ago You Just Don't Understand wrote that we all, men and women alike, want to be heard and understood. But in today's rarefied political atmosphere it seems that many of us aren't hearing one another because we are more comfortable inside our own echo chambers surrounded by people and news sources that confirm our biases. But worse than that, we appear to not want to listen to different views at all. I'm sure you can think of examples you've seen at the local, state and national level. As Ros and James made clear, both our nation's successes and some of its deepest divisions are rooted in issues of race. Our first reading by Kemi Adagoroye pointed out that the recent election has revealed further cracks in our country, stark dividing lines, separating strangers, friends and even loved ones. The effects of these rifts will persist, she says, as long as we continue to dismiss and deny each other the right to be heard. When we shut down, block, out, distance, mute, dismiss, invalidate and deny others the right to express themselves, when we judge and vilify people for opinions that we don't fully understand, we only hurt ourselves. But no, in my experience we hurt a whole lot more people than just ourselves. The consequences of our not listening to one another over the last few years has snowballed through our imperfect political system into national policies that will result in the suffering of millions. Let me stop here to examine these assertions. Have those of us here today dismissed and denied people the right to be heard or to express themselves? Not overtly, I would say. And if we have, perhaps not even consciously. But I do think there are people in this room who have shut out, distanced, dismissed, judged or vilified others' views. And I am among them. According to polls by Reuters and Ipsos, the number of people who argued with family and friends over politics before and after the election jumped six percentage points from 33 to 39 percent of respondents. Sixteen percent said they had stopped talking to a family member or friend because of the election. And 13 percent said they had ended a relationship with a family member or close friend. Even couples that had been married for decades have called it quits. Some of you may have noticed that there's been a lot of unfriending happening on Facebook in the last year. Those of us who voted against the administration have become estranged, disconnected from both the 47 percent of people who voted for it and from the one-third of eligible voters who chose not to vote at all. In the shock, loss and grief we feel over losing a future for which we had hoped, many of us appear to have fallen into what the Reverend Nate Walker and others have called otherizing. Identity politics begins very early in life. I'm reminded of the immature othering in my own middle and high schools, dividing into us and them. In my school, the brains, the jocks and the dopers were the major parties. I'm sure your school had its own in-groups and out-groups. One would like to think, one would like to hope that with time comes a certain amount of maturity. Yes. Have we as adults reverted back to such immature, stereotypical behavior? Do we really regard some of our neighbors, relatives, and fellow citizens as alien, as so very different from us? Have Americans abandoned the pretense of civility? Have we Unitarian Universalists put our first three guiding principles, inherent worth, compassion, and acceptance of one another up on a shelf? Perhaps when we are afraid or under stress, we let our lizard brain take control, that oldest part of our brain, the brain's stem, responsible for primitive survival instincts such as aggression and fear, the fight or flight response. It can be difficult to live up to our ideals when we are afraid. I know there have been times in my life when I've been afraid that I have embodied David Brooks' description of self-differentiating to the point of living with a detached posture through more mechanical relationships. I must admit that in the last few weeks, I have been guilty of otherizing. I have thought and said things about people that I regret, that they are gullible and stupid, that they are less sophisticated and intelligent, that they are more easily fooled and manipulated than we. Despite Langston Hughes' dreaming of a world without it, I have occasionally fallen into scorn. I have not taken the high road. In truly elitist form, I have ascribed lesser worth to people who did not vote as I did. I have felt more contempt for them than compassion. I have rejected their views out of hand, rather than accepted them as fellow human beings with opinions born of their own experiences. I seem to have forgotten a lesson taught to me by a counselor 30 years ago that we all are doing the best we can, given our level of awareness. My conscience is calling. Yes, I can forgive my transgressions, but I feel a need to bring myself back to my core values and the fundamental truths illuminated by our religious community. If we truly seek peace, we will need to rein in our lizard brains, calm our fears, reject stereotypes and mend these relationships. There are conversations we will need to have across the divide if we are to move closer to beloved community, back in the direction of our liberal religious principles and the ideals of our constitution. How do we do this? You may have seen a television commercial go by, by Canadian beer company Moulson. And in it, people come across a big red locked refrigerator. Anybody? Has anybody seen that? Yes, a few? So eventually passersby discovered that this fridge is somehow listening and recognizes the phrase, I am Canadian in multiple languages. People cast about to find people in a wide variety of ethnicities to say the phrase in their native language. The key to unlocking the fridge is to find unity in diversity. The reward, as you might guess, is a nice cold bottle of beer for everyone. But diverse voices are the key. Similarly, our story for all ages today was made fuller and richer with the contributions of many voices. Without them we wouldn't have heard about, let's see, moo moo the cat and penny the cow in a barrel that smelled like bananas in the desert. We wouldn't have heard that story without multiple voices. What we did today may not be quite what Martin Buber had in mind with his concept of I and thou, but we had a good time building our shared story together. As David Brooks pointed out, if we are to begin healing the trauma of the election, we should begin by resisting the urge to reduce complex individuals into simplistic categories. We should consider Buber's distinctions between I it and I thou relationships. We should not fear, objectify, or withdraw from others with whom we disagree, but more deliberately bring our whole selves into those encounters. I thou relationships are personal, direct, and profoundly interactive. Nothing is held back. Deep calls to deep when we offer up ourselves and embrace the other in a total unselfconscious way, when together we are involved in mutual animated describing. Yes, it can be exhausting, and yes, we may not always have the energy to take, to engage this deeply with everyone we meet. But perhaps we might start with the relationships we value most, particularly when we don't see I to I, to consider the I thou. I should clarify at this point that I consider the I thou relationship aspirational, like our principles, an ideal that we cannot seek or find in all instances. If a relationship involves an imbalance of power or privilege, for example, say you are hurting me or taking advantage of me in some way, I will be far more likely to escape your presence than to offer myself up to you and embrace you in a total unselfconscious way. I believe we must allow people the right and freedom to define and maintain healthy boundaries, differentiation to avoid enabling the abuse of power, and the onus of responsibility lies with those who hold the power and privilege. But for the vast majority of relationships, those of relative equity, there really is no way around it. We are in this together. Most peoples have known this for millennia, and we affirm the interdependent web of existence in our seventh principle. As Brooks noted, Boober 2 argued that it's nonsensical to think of the self in isolation. The I only exists in relation to some other. Boober's suggestion, solution for our current estrangement, says David Brooks, lies in trust and vulnerability, being intentional and brave. The only way we get beyond depressing years like this one, he said, is at the level of intimacy. If Americans reconnect with the living center of the national story, and they rebuild vows at every level. Unitarian Universalist minister Nate Walker provides further wisdom in his book, Cultivating Empathy. Conflict, stereotypes, and violence, he says, arise from misperceptions and misunderstandings. He goes on to describe the concept of moral imagination. This is the ability to anticipate or project oneself into the middle of a moral dilemma and understand all points of view. A proven remedy for otherizing, he says, is to employ moral imagination as an everyday spiritual practice. He suggests that this will require some soul searching with questions such as, what was it about that person's language or behavior that had so much power over me? What was keeping me from cultivating genuine empathy for those I previously held in contempt? Was it my pride? Was it my fierce need to be right? At what cost? In an essay titled, Degrees of Separation, another UU minister, David Kowalski, goes so far as to say, we have become a nation of strangers because of this breakdown in respectful person-to-person communication. The good news, he says, is that the cure for this malady is readily available. Through everyday acts of kindness and by reaching out to others in a spirit of helpfulness and cooperation, we can begin to reweave the fabric of community. The world's religions, he says, have affirmed for centuries that the best way to bring the world closer together is the old-fashioned way, with patience and tolerance and good will, turning strangers into friends and enemies into conversation partners, one by one by one. And even better, he says, that when we reach outside our personal comfort zone, for example, to encounter someone of a different race, a different age, a different religion, or a different political viewpoint, our actions can have a multiplier effect, can lower the global estrangement more than we might predict. Or interlude today by artists at a Unitarian Universalist intentional community called the Sanctuaries expresses just this kind of reaching out, an action grounded in patience, honesty, and love. We sang about this love in our hymns, that love longs to quiet every fear and seeks to set things right in spite of foes, embracing enemies. When we tell our stories from deep inside, when we listen with a loving mind, when we hear our voices in each other's words, then our heart is in a holy place. For those of you thinking, enough generalities, get on with it already, give me some direction. I have this to offer. There are any number of experts available at the click of a mouse to tell us how to improve our communication and our lives. One such person is Judy Ringer, an author, instructor, and Aikido Black Belt, and here are my interpretations of her tips for listening and being heard. So imagine yourself sitting across the table from that cranky relative or neighbor or stranger with whom you disagree. Begin difficult conversations with mutual understanding as a primary goal. Free that you want to understand one another, allow for some give and take, and forgive the occasional lapse into othering. Nobody's perfect. Offer information that may be of value, reciprocate, and demonstrate that you understand the other person's argument or position, and decide whether you want to win an argument or to solve a mutual problem. It will help, says Ringer, if you understand both your story and theirs. Strive to educate and not blame. Share your hopes and goals, and I would add your shared values. Stay interested and curious. Remain centered and extend positive energy. And understand that in the end you may never see eye to eye on every issue, but you can remain respectful, interested, and purposeful. And I would suggest, too, that as US Senator Elizabeth Warren taught us so effectively recently, when it comes to being heard, persistence is a virtue. Goodness knows I have tried, even as I am guilty of otherizing people, I have also made attempts to bridge the gaps through conversations with little effect. So it's not easy, and it does require persistence. At my home congregation we say these words to introduce the ritual of sharing joys and sorrows. When we are heard, we are honored. When we are honored, we are healed. I don't know that these statements are always true, but they deserve our consideration. When we are heard, we are honored. When we are honored, we are healed. Let's put them to the test. In closing I would say, let us strive to be the mature adults we have become. Let us be fully present to others and show genuine interest. Let us maintain healthy boundaries, but let us also treat people as fellow human beings as thou's and not as it's. Let us try to engage in the unity of being. Let us not dehumanize, scorn, or otherize, but listen with a loving mind and employ our moral imagination to help us understand one another's struggles. Let us return again to our guiding principles of inherent worth, compassion, and acceptance of one another. Like Kemi Adagaroye and the artists at the sanctuaries, let us reach out and trust in love. Let us not only join hands, let us not only dream, but join hands and share the journey of life. Let us build and tell our stories together. And let us be persistent. Blessed be Your Name. Once upon a time, most folks used the offering plate to fulfill their pledges of financial support. Nowadays, lots of folks click on their church websites and set up automatic transfers from their checking accounts. Some still write a monthly check paying their church bill along with all the others. But passing the offering plate has never been just a practical exercise. It has always been a ritual. Even if your pledge is paid up, it is worthwhile for you to bring even just a dollar to drop into the plate as a ritual reminder of that form of love we call generosity. Let it be a reminder that after meeting our obligations to ourselves and our households and the communities to which we belong and are committed, we must still keep our capacity to give. The practice of giving until it is second nature and first response helps bring forth the realm of love. The offering which we will share today with Planned Parenthood of Wisconsin will now be gratefully received. I invite you now to rise in body or in spirit and howl our hallelujahs with our closing hymn number 318, our closing words today are by the river Nate Walker. When we observe oppression, let us develop strategies that free not only the oppressed but also the oppressor. Let us remember that those who use their power to deny freedom to others are also imprisoned and are also worthy of care. Do not let their unjust actions inspire us to cruelty or else we will soon become what we set out against. Stand we must, stand strong and bold, but let us choose a new way to balance the scales. Rather than shoving our foot on oppressor's necks, let us instead reach out a hand, lower a seat and show them and even ourselves a new way of justice making by collectively experimenting with the moral imagination. Blessed be.