 It's funny. It's funny. Even just when it says, do you know what I mean? I think it's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. and the post is two. Test, test, test, test, test, test. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. Testing, one, two, testing, testing, one, two, testing. Perfect. Please join in a moment of centering silence so we can be fully present with each other this morning. And now we can become musically present with each other by turning to the words for our in-gathering hymn, which you'll find inside your order of service. Welcome to another Sunday here at First Unitarian Society, 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. I'm Steve Goldberg, a very charming member of this congregation, and I'd like to extend a special welcome to any guests, visitors, or newcomers. If this is your first time at First Unitarian Society, I think you'll find that this is indeed a special place, and we welcome you to join us at our fellowship hour after the service is concluded. And if you're curious about our special buildings, we usually offer a guided tour after every service, just gather over by the windows, and we'll take care of you after the service. Speaking of taking care of each other, this would be a perfect time to silence those pesky electronic devices that might interfere with your enjoyment of the service, and this goes for those of you watching or listening at home as well. And if you are accompanied this morning by a youngster, and that youngster worries that you might get fidgety during the service, we offer two other locations from which you and your youngster can enjoy the service. One is our child haven in the back corner of the auditorium, and then there's also a comfortable seating outside the doorways in the commons. As is the case every Sunday, our service is brought to us by a special group of people whom we call volunteers, and we could use more of you. Meanwhile, as I announce the names of these volunteers, please think of ways that you can thank them, shake their hand, give them a hug, offer to rake their leaves this fall. Our sound system is operated by Peter Daley, thank you Peter. We thank Tom Boykoff for serving as the lay minister this morning. Thank Patty Witte for greeting us upstairs this morning as we arrive. We want to thank our ushers, Melinda Carr, Nancy Daley, Gail Bliss, Paula Alt, and of course, a special thank you to our youngest usher, nine-year-old Lila. Our coffee and hospitality are provided after the service by Nancy Kossoff and Sandra Plisch. Just a couple announcements before the service begins. One is that you've read a little bit about the Moses annual celebration being held next Saturday, October 10, from 4 to 7 p.m. at Zion City International on the south side of Madison off of Fish Hatchery Road near the Beltline. FUS is a member of the Moses organization and you are all invited to join us in the festivities. Tickets are $15 and available today right after the service at the Moses table in the commons. Stop by and get your tickets today. Speaking of today, today's service includes a slight error in the program. The composer of our prelude this morning, which you will hear in just a moment, is Vincent Persichetti, Persichetti. There will be a test on this later, I would imagine, but the only thing to worry about for later is that it's 179 days until the next cabaret and we invite you to sit back or lean forward to enjoy this morning service. I'm sure that you'll find it will touch your heart, stir your spirit, and trigger one or two new thoughts. We're glad you're here. It brings a separate truth here. We bring the truth of our own life, our own story. We don't come as empty vessels, but as full people. Each with our own story and our own truth. This room is rich with experience, with life. All manner of people are gathered here, joyful, needy, frightened, anxious, grateful, connected. We all bring our stories with us. May we recognize the truth that lives in each and all. May we hear and honor the lives that gather in this place. Together we have truths. Together we have stories. Together we are community. If you will rise in body or spirit to join together, in the words chalice lighting printed in your order of service. For daylight and darkness, for sunshine and rain, for the earth and all people, we offer deep thanksgiving. We kindle this light in celebration of the life that we share. And before we join together in song, if you'll take a moment now to turn and greet your neighbor. Watch what happens. You want to see some magic? Oh, there, see? I got a sign from the kitchen that she's on it. Thank you for that. Magic happens in this place. And this is much better than my intercom that I use during the week where I just sit at my desk and yell. Well, we have a story today about a bear. And it's called, I have a little problem, said the bear. That's bear up there. Anybody want to make a guess what you think bear's problem might be? We really can't make a guess. Can't you want to make a guess? I don't think that could be his problem. We don't have a lot to go on yet, so let's see what happens. So once there was a bear who had a problem, he wasn't quite sure what to do, so he decided to travel around the village searching for those he thought were wise because surely they could help. First, he visited with an inventor. Inventors are really smart people, right? Problem, said the bear. You see, I, of course, said the inventor. I know exactly what you need. A heavy bear like you needs something to make him feel lighter. I have just the thing. So he got a pair of wings from his workshop and fastened them to the bear's shoulders. Hmm, said the bear. And he shrugged and he went along, looking worried. Next, he found a tailor. I have a little problem, said the bear. You see, indeed I do see, said the tailor. Your wings are very handsome, but you need a scarf. And he wound a long scarf around the bear's neck. Hmm, said the bear. He shrugged and went away, looking worried. Next, bear found the hatter. I have a little problem, said the bear. You, I am just the man you're looking for, said the hatter. Now don't, don't, don't say a word. I have just the thing for you. And he placed a fine hat on the bear's head. Hmm, said bear. Shrugged his shoulders and he went away, looking worried. Do you think he wanted a hat? No. So, you think he's looking for another bear? We'll see. Yeah. All right, so now bear went on to the doctor. I have a little problem, said bear. Well, say no more. I can tell that just by looking at you, said the doctor. My special vitamins will have you fit as a fiddle in no time. He handed bear a box of vitamins. Take one every morning. Hmm, said the bear and he shrugged and he went away, looking worried. Uh-uh. Now out in the street, bear ran into a vendor. I have a little problem, said the street vendor. But I have the cure. This little charm will bring you good luck wherever you go. And he hung a silver pig on a chain around bear's neck. He said the bear and he shrugged and he went away, looking worried. Okay, so what's missing here? Are you picking up on what's happening? What's missing? Yeah. What are they not doing? They're not letting him speak, right? So bear moves on to the eye doctor. I have a, well, I can see you have a problem, said the eye doctor, and that is why I am here. She placed a pair of glasses on bear's nose. Now isn't that better? Hmm, said bear and he shrugged and he went along, looking worried. On to another shop bear went. I have a little problem, said the shopkeeper. Well, never you worry, my dear. This honey will sweeten up your life in no time. And she handed bear a big jar of honey. Hmm, said bear and he shrugged and he went along, looking worried. So bear walked into a shoemaker's shop. I have a problem, said the shoemaker. You need boots. She pulled a pair of boots from a box. A real bear needs real boots. These are the best bear boots I have, a perfect fit. Hmm, said bear and he shrugged and he went along, looking worried. So at the top of the hill bear stopped. He looked back over the town and he shook his head. He was worn out. The bear unfastened his wings, took off his hat and his scarf, took off his glasses and the pig on a chain, kicked off the boots, set his vitamins and his honey on the ground and he sat down on the hill and he sighed. Can you give me a big sigh? He asked a fly on a blade of grass next to him. I don't wanna talk about it, said bear. Nobody listens to me anyway. I'm listening, said the fly. Tell me about it. I have a little problem, said the bear. You see, I'm afraid of the dark, alone in my cave. There are no other bears for miles around and I don't know anyone who wants to sleep in my cave with me. I dread the darkness all day long. That really is a problem, said the fly. But it just so happens that I'm looking for somewhere to live. A bear's cave sounds very cozy. I could move in with you. What do you say? Hmm, said the bear. I feel better already. So the fly hopped onto bear's shoulder where she made herself comfortable and off they went together very happy. So what did the fly do that nobody else did? Listen to the bear and let him say what the problem was. That's right. And I bet all of us have had times where we've had a problem and there's been taller people in our lives who didn't really listen and who thought they could just fix it. So the message from bear is one, when you have a problem, find somebody who will let you say the whole thing and really listen. And also it's important for you to be good listeners to the tall people and the little people and all the people around you. Thank you so much for being amazing listeners to our story about bear. We are gonna rise in body or spirit and sing at you out to classes. Have a room to church every Sunday. Thing remarkable in this. But think of it. A man who came every single Sunday and it was not that he lacked other things to do. I knew him only in the last years of his life. A birthright unitarian, a retired geologist who when he was not in church was a volunteer for Amnesty International, for the local food bank, for the American Civil Liberties Union, for the Family Planning Clinic, the AIDS Project, the Unitarian Universalist District we were a part of, the Audubon Society and for a splendid community chorus and any of us holding full-time jobs. He was committed, effective, clear about what he could and would and by his own standards should contribute to the causes that he cared for and the world and the people that he cared for. But what set him apart from all of us was that he came every single Sunday and because of hearing loss, I think more than any sense of his own importance, he sat right in the front row. Why do you come, John, in all kinds of weather, when you're well and when you're not, when you like the guest speaker and when you know you won't? Why do you come every Sunday? I asked him not long before he died. His answer was straightforward, just like the man himself. I come, he said, because somebody might miss me if I didn't. He said it in a way not arrogant at all but generously and honestly. He was the kind of person who saw it as his duty and his privilege to welcome newcomers on Sunday morning. Not because he needed more friends himself, the man was over 80 years old with a lifetime of friends and colleagues and acquaintances to spare. He had plenty of friends already, more than he could handle. He did it not because he wanted to evangelize the visitors or grow the church. On the contrary, he loved and missed the tiny congregation he joined in 1955. He greeted people as they came and steered them toward the minister and the coffee pot. The Sunday school, the guest book, the pledge cards, the signup sheets, because he felt it was the right and only thing to do. When people come into your home, he said, you welcome them as if nothing in that moment matters more. He worked hard on Sunday mornings. He got up on Sundays expecting to work hard to make others feel at home. He came with that in mind and he was right. After he died, we missed him when he didn't come. And do you know what happened? The Sunday after his memorial, someone knew who'd never met John and would never have the chance walked right in and sat down in his empty place in that front row. A whole family just sat right down as if they owned the place, as if they had every right to be there, as if we were glad to see them. Two women knew to town with their toddler and their baby. They came hoping there was room and John himself would have been delighted. Paces joined together that I wanna stand up here and say amen, we will now join together in the morning's offering. We'll just skip that whole piece there. That was so beautiful, thank you. Has been one of transition and settling into new routines in our little family of four. I don't know about the rest of you with young children, but our month has been learning new kids, new teachers, new rooms, and it has been a wild and bumpy ride. At the end of each day, I check in with our older son Sam about his day. I call it engaged parenting. His father calls it the after-school interrogation. And when I walk through the door, he yells, let the interrogation begin. Look, something like this. So how was your day? What did you have for specials? Did you eat your lunch? What are you writing about? Did you get new library books? Perhaps the one that strikes terror in my heart. So what did you do at recess? I say terror because recess seems to me that most unstructured of time, where social interactions are king, where you can have a wonderful time surrounded by friends or find yourself swinging all alone. So the other day, Sam came home and during the interrogation, told me that he and a group of friends had invented a new game. Everybody's it tag. Well, that sounds great, I said. That seems like chaos, I thought. How do you play? So he began to tell me a somewhat complicated set of rules that involved being frozen or unfrozen depending on what was happening to the original person who tagged you at the beginning of the game and I did not follow how this game worked at all. But I asked him how they came up with these rules. Oh, you know, he said, we just, you know, we sat and we talked about one rule that we would each like and we went around and listened to everybody's rules and then we decided together which ones would work best. Lots of talking, lots of listening and we figured out how we wanted to play together. You know, it was like coming up with those covenants we make in church class where we decide what we need to make it fun and safe for everyone. And I will tell you that at that moment I excused myself to go around the corner into the kitchen and do the mom who also happens to be a UU minister happy dance. Yes. Because those moments are really few and far between and when they happen you gotta dance. Covenants, the promises we make to one another here in community, what binds us together. The promises that call us into relationship and give us the ability to create deeper, healthier, more sustaining relationship or in the simpler language of a nine year old promises we make to ensure that this place is safe and fun for everyone. When we say that Unitarian Universalism is a covenantal faith, what we are saying is that we are a religion based not in a set of dogma or beliefs but a religion that is based in a set of sacred promises that we make to one another. We promise to help each other in the search for what is ultimately meaningful. We're a community where you believe as you must as your conscience demands. We travel different theological paths but our covenant leads us to support, challenge, encourage those around us as they travel their path. We are seekers first, always open to new learnings. The covenants that we share of mutual respect. These are the framework that provides the freedom that we long for and the best boundaries possible for living together in community. Ours is a congregation bound not by creed but by covenant. The central question for us is not what do you believe but more what do you believe in? To what people, what values, what dreams will you commit yourself? If you have seen us do our new member recognition ceremonies then you may have stood and recited our continuing bond of union. It was written by the founders of this society in 1879 and it reads, we whose names are here unto subscribed, desiring a religious organization in the spirit of Jesus of Nazareth which shall make integrity of life its first aim and leave thought free. Associate ourselves together as the first Unitarian society of Madison and accept to its membership those of whatever theological opinion who wish to unite with us in the promotion of truth, righteousness, reverence and charity among all. Our central question is not what theology do you believe but rather where do you commit your heart, your hands and your life? Is it in the search for truth? Is it in the love of one and all? Is it in the desire to work for a vision of a world made whole? If you say yes to those things then welcome. Victoria Safford in an article all about covenants reminds us that seeing ourselves as bound together in covenant is not a new thing. It is a very old practice. In 1630, John Winthrop who was soon to be the first governor of Massachusetts spoke to a soggy, stalwart band of fellow Puritans who were sailing with high and pious hopes toward a new world. He said to them, now the only way to avoid shipwreck and to provide for our posterity is to follow the counsel of Micah, to do justly, to love mercy, to walk humbly with our God. We must be willing to abridge ourselves of our super fluidities for the supply of others' necessities. We must uphold a familiar commerce together in all meekness, gentleness and patience. We must delight in each other, make others' conditions our own, rejoice together, mourn together, labor and suffer together, always having before our eyes, our commission and our covenant in this work, our community as members of one body. So shall we keep the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace? It was an extraordinary declaration of interdependence, despite their stone cold reputation, their caricature intolerance. These were people who promised to bear one another's burdens as their own, to subvert their separate private interests, their super fluidities for the public good of all. Humbly, gently, patiently, they would serve a larger vision than any single eye could see. They would hold a larger hope. Those who heard John Winthrop speak surely would have grasped his metaphor of danger. Shipwreck, and they would have been afraid not only of foundering literally on the rocky New England shores, but of failing in their errand to establish their city on a hill. The only way to avoid shipwreck, spiritual or otherwise, was to keep the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace, to make and keep a sacred covenant together. Covenants in our tradition remain our way to walk together across disagreements, dissent, difficult decisions, cherishing the way we walk together, the way we live and breathe together, cherishing that as dearly as the outcome itself. This is far from easy. Philosopher Jacob Needleman said it this way, we obviously cannot confront this tangled world alone. It takes no great insight to realize that we have no choice but to think together, to ponder together in groups and communities. The question is, how? How to come together and think and hear each other in order to touch and be touched by the intelligence we need. There's a key component needed in order to do this, to live together in covenantal community, to touch or be touched by the intelligence we need. And that, as our story showed, is the willingness to listen. At a recent conference that I attended, the facilitator led us in a covenanting process, and someone wisely raised their hand and said, I would like to add one item. Listen enough to be transformed by what you hear. It's a crucial piece of this work because we each must listen deeply enough to be transformed by what we hear. And we must hold the willingness, the possibility of change within us. We tell our children that we listen with our ears. Do you have your listening ears on? But when you are a part of a sacred, beloved community, you listen not only with your ears, but also with your heart. A listening heart has the power to bring about transformation. Now in 1948, most congregations and houses of worship in the United States were segregated by the color of their member's skin. Some were segregated by law, others by custom, or by a lack of actively trying to welcome and include all. The First Unitarian Society of Chicago was one of these congregations. And although their church was located in a neighborhood with many African-Americans, only whites could join. It was according to the written bylaws of the congregation and according to custom. Now the day came that many members began to believe that they needed to take action against racism. And if they really wanted to live out their values and principles, this would need to change. So their minister, the Reverend Leslie Pennington, was ready, ready for this day to come, ready to take action. And so was James Luther Adams. James Luther Adams was a liberal theologian and a social ethicist who taught at the Meadville Lombard Theological School right across the street from the First Unitarian Society and he also served on their board of directors. Along with some others, Reverend Pennington and James Luther Adams proposed a change in the church's bylaws to desegregate the congregation and welcome people, whatever the color of their skin. They wanted to include. They saw this as a way of putting love into action. And when the congregation's board of directors considered the desegregation proposal, most of them supported it. However, one member of the board objected. Your new program, he said, is making desegregation into a creed. You are asking everyone in our church to say they believe desegregating or inviting or even recruiting people of color to attend church here is a good way to tackle racism. What do we do if members don't believe this? So debate ensued because both sides felt in their hearts that their belief was right. Perhaps they were trying so hard to be right, trying so hard to be heard that they forgot to listen. So they kept on talking, meeting after meeting after meeting until finally they were in a meeting that went into the early hours of the morning and everyone was exhausted and frustrated. Finally, James Luther Adams turned to the person who had voiced that most strongest objection and said, tell me if you will, what do you believe is the purpose of this place? What is the purpose of this community? Why are we here? And suddenly everyone was listening and the board member replied, okay, Jim, I'll tell ya, the purpose of this church is to get a hold of people like me and change them. The First Unitarian Society of Chicago successfully desegregated. Listen enough to be transformed by what you hear. Someone once said, covenant is a promise I keep to myself about the kind of person I want to be, the kind of life I mean to have, together with other people and all other living things. When we welcome babies, when we welcome new members into this community, when we celebrate the love of beaming couples. We speak not in the binding language of contract but in the life sustaining fluency of covenant. From coveneer to travel together. We will walk together with you, child. We will walk together with you, friend. We will walk together with each other toward the lives we mean to lead, toward the world we mean to have a hand in shaping, the world of compassion, equity, freedom, joy, and gratitude. We do this by sharing the stories of our lives with one another and listening to one another so that each and all can come into the fullness of their own being. Our stories become real when they are witnessed by others and our community becomes whole in their telling. We have many opportunities in this congregation to listen to each other, to share our stories, to walk together in times of celebration and in struggle. But today I want to call out one, one such way to do this very important work. And that's our small group ministry. Some of you in this room today have been part of a chalice group for 10 years or more. And I have seen firsthand over those more than 10 years how those lives have been transformed and changed for the better. These groups are a way for you to live our covenant in deepening relationship. These are groups of deep connection, support, and healing, where you can keep your promises to yourself about who you want to be and the world you want to create. There will be members of these groups in the commons after service and they would love to talk to you about their experience and what these groups are all about and how you can get involved. So I'll leave you today with these words from Starhawk. We are all longing to go home to some place we have never been, a place half remembered and half envisioned we can only catch glimpses of from time to time, community. Somewhere there are people to whom we can speak with passion without having the words catch in our throats. Somewhere a circle of hands will open to receive us, eyes will light up as we enter, voices will celebrate with us whenever we come into our own power. Community means strength that joins our strength to do the work that needs to be done, arms to hold us when we falter, a circle of healing, a circle of friends, some place where we can be free. May we create this beloved and blessed community together. I now invite you into the giving and receiving of the morning's offering. You will see that it's an outreach offering to be shared with the Fair Share CSA Coalition. You can find out more about them and their good work in the Order of Service. We thank you for your generosity. Separate joys and struggles we gather here to find the peace and the strength and the hope that comes with sharing both our celebrations and our sorrows with one another. This week we hold in our hearts, Helen Kleibainer, who passed away peacefully on Friday evening. And we will miss her kind smile and her warm presence here among us. We are also thinking of Patricia Leonardi, who is in recovery after a recent stem cell transplant. And we are sending her our ongoing prayers and hope for strength and healing. And we are also holding all those at Umka Community College in Oregon. May we bless and hold the memories of those who were lost. May comfort come to their families and courage come to the injured as they fight their way back. And may we all be given the strength we need to come together and find the courage to change. May we be together for a moment in silence to acknowledge and lift up all that lives in the sacred quiet of our hearts. For the joyful, made jubilant songs echo in our hearts well beyond fading memories. For the sorrowful, made gentle songs of solace bring lasting healing to our hearts and minds. And for all of us here and our world, may we sing to the morning sun and the evening stars as they guide our journeys. Blessed be an amen. And I ask you now to rise in body or spirit for our closing hymn number 323. Passionate hearts and our will or hard losses. And we have brought our joy, our hope and our gratitude for ordinary blessings. We do not leave these here. May we gather them up. These blessings of compassion, yearning, courage. May we let them echo in our lives, in our words, in our deeds and our dreams. May we carry them with us wherever we go. So we may be a blessing to all we meet and a precious gift to our world. Blessed be, go in peace and please be seated for the postlude.