 Welcome to the first Unitarian Society of Madison. This is a community where curious seekers gather to explore spiritual, ethical, and social issues as in an accepting and nurturing environment. You'd think I'd have this down, I've only done it several hundred times in the heavens. Unitarian Universalism supports the freedom of conscience of each individual as together we seek to be a force for good in the world. I am not Steve Goldberg, my much more energetic and engaging and maybe flamboyant colleague. You will probably see him later, I'm sure you will. My name is Karen Rose Gredler, and on behalf of the entire congregation, I would like to extend a special welcome to any visitors who are with us this morning, as well as all the rest of you. We are a welcoming congregation, so whoever you are and wherever you are on your journey, we celebrate your presence among us. As we gather in this place and this time, let us remember we are all visitors in this life. We come together to find meaning and hope with all the other visitors in this life. Let us join our hearts and minds together as we celebrate this life. Please silence cell phones or anything else noisy as I invite you to join me in a few moments of silence for contemplation, meditation, prayer as we settle in and come fully into this time and place together. Now please rise in body or spirit as we sing our in gathering hymn number 354. This morning we will be singing verses one and four. If we're crying our song, verse four, answers to the questions of this love. We believe in life, we believe in the strength of love, and today we have found a way to be together, each from our separate paths, coming here to journey together. As we light our chalice this morning, please join me in the words printed in your order of service. As together we say, we light this chalice in honor of first steps for beginning even when the path ahead is unclear, for the courage it takes to trust that the way will reveal itself, that the light will come to clarify our vision, that friends will be by our side. Speaking of friends, I invite you to turn to your neighbor for a friendly greeting. Any young and young at heart and young at heart can come down for a story. I have a story about a journey to share with you, and I see some St. Patrick's Day celebrants with us. Good morning. I have a book called I Had Trouble in Getting to Salah Saloo, and it's by Dr. Seuss. Really happy and carefree and young, and I lived in a place called the Valley of Vong, and nothing, not anything, ever went wrong. Until one day I was walking along, and I guess I got careless, I guess I got gawking. As the daisies not looking where I was walking, and then what happens? Can you see the picture? He falls on a rock. He trips and falls down. He thinks that is just trouble. Now I have never had trouble. Now I never had ever had troubles before, so I said to myself, I don't want any more. If I watch out for rocks with my eyes straight ahead, I'll keep out of trouble forever, I said. But then what happens? There's trouble from behind, a quail bites his tail, and there's of course trouble still in front of him too, the rocks. So I said to myself, now I'll just have to start to be twice as careful and be twice as smart. I'll watch out for trouble in front and back sections by aiming my eyeballs in different directions, and then there's troubles from above and below. He gets stung and he gets bit. Oh goodness gracious, sounds like trouble, doesn't it? So there he was with all sorts of trouble, and this chap comes rolling up. I was all completely surrounded by trouble when a chap rubbled up in a one-wheeler wobble. Young fellow, he said, what has happened to you has happened to me and to other folks too. So I'll tell you what I have decided to do. I'm off to the beautiful city, Salah Salu, on the banks of the beautiful river Wahoo, where they never have troubles, at least very few. It's not very far, and my camel is strong. He'll get us there fast, so hop on, come along. So what happens? They travel through the night over rocks and through a forest, and the next thing you know, the camel is not feeling well, so they have to pull the camel, and then the next thing you know after that, he has to pull the camel and the driver. This is not feeling fair, it sounds like more troubles. Well, the next morning we located Dr. Sam Snell, who knew all about tonsils and camels as well. Our camel, he said, had a bad case of gleeks, and should lie flat in bed for at least twenty weeks. So they said, go down this path to the bus, and you can catch a bus to Salah Salu. Well, the bus stop was there, and that part was just fine, but tacked on a stick in a very small sign saying, notice to passengers using our line, we are sorry to say that our driver Butch Myers ran over four nails and has punctured all tires. So until further notice, the 442 cannot possibly take you to Salah Salu. So he started walking along this long and winding path. A hundred miles later, my feet were so sore, then wouldn't you know it, it started to pour. So he runs up to this little tiny house, when he gets to the house, he notices there are holes in the roof and birds and mice trying to take shelter. So then he has this dream about being in Salah Salu on fluffy pillows that are silky and stuffed, and he's so happy until he woke up and the house is falling over the cliff. Oh my goodness, talk about troubles. Well, I floated 12 days without toothpaste or soap. I practically almost had given up hope. When someone up high shouted, here catch my rope, then I knew that my troubles had come to an end. And I climbed up the rope calling, thank you my friend. Well, it wasn't exactly a friend, it was a soldier on horseback who said we're in war and we need you to help us. He gave me a shooter and one little bean, which was not very much if you see what I mean. Then he yelled, get that pooser, attack without fear. The glorious moment of victory is near. And the glorious general led the advance with a glorious swish of his sword and his lance and a glorious clank of his tin-plated pants. But then there's not just one pooser, there's many poosers and the soldiers get scared and run away. And he's left with one little pea shooter and one little bean. He is just surrounded by poosers all by himself. Poosers are these animals. That kind of funny. I had terrible trouble in staying alive. Then I saw an old pipe that said vent number five. I didn't have time to find out what that meant, but the vent had a hole and the hole is where I went. So he went down into the vent, into this tunnel, and what do you see in this tunnel? All sorts of stuff, yes, critters and fish and a tuba and an umbrella and drums. And there is our character trying to run and run in the wrong direction. And then just when I thought I could stand it no more, by chance I discovered a tiny trapdoor. I popped my head out. The great sky was sky blue. When I knew from the flowers I'd seen, I'd finally come through to the banks of the beautiful river Wahoo. I couldn't be far now from Salah Saloo. And there's Salah Saloo. Someone last night said it looks like it's made of candy. Candy? Yeah. And there's the fellow who has a key to the city. There's only one door into the Salah Saloo. So there was just one trouble. And the key guy says there's only one door into Salah Saloo. And we have a key slapping slipper. We do. This troublesome slipper moved into my door two weeks ago, Tuesday at quarter to four. Since then I can't open this door anymore and I can't kill this slipper. It's very bad luck to kill any slipper. And that's why we're stuck. And why no one gets in and why no one gets in and the town's gone to pot, it's a terrible set of affairs, is it not? And so said the doorman of Salah Saloo. My job at the door here is finished. I'm through. And I'll tell you what I have decided to do. I'm leaving, he said, leaving Salah Saloo on the banks of the beautiful river Wahoo, where we never have troubles, at least very few. And I'm off to the city of Bula Bubaal on the banks of the beautiful river Wahoo, where they never have troubles, no troubles at all. Come on, along with me, he said as he ran, and you'll never have any more troubles, young man. I'd have no more troubles, that's what the man said. So I started to go, but I didn't. Instead, I did some quick thinking inside of my head. When I started back home to the valley of Vang, I know I'll have troubles, I'll maybe get stung, I'll always have troubles, I'll maybe get bit by the green-headed quail on the place where I sit. But I bought a big bat and I'm ready, you see. Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me. And this is the maze that he had to go through. There was no map, he just had to kind of go on his way, and then he had to use his head and his heart to figure out should I stay or should I go, where's going to go. He decided to stay and listen to what was happening in his heart. And speaking of listening, we get to listen to the teens sing a song for us. So you can sit here until you go to your RE class and you can listen to the song before you go. A big thanks to our teen choir this morning. Thanks guys. Our reading today comes from Victorious Afford. You know, we do it every day. Every morning we go out blinking into the glare of our freedom, into the wilderness of our work and the world, making maps as we go, looking for signs that were on the right path. And on some good days we walk right out of our oppressions, those things that press us down from the outside or as often from the inside. We shake off the shackles of fear, prejudice, timidity, closed-mindedness, selfishness, self-righteousness, and claim our freedom outright, terrifying as it is, our freedom to be human and humane. Every morning, every day, we leave our houses not knowing if it will be for the last time. And we decide what will take with us, what will carry, how much integrity, how much truth telling, how much compassion, in case somebody along the way may need some, how much arrogance, how much anger, how much humor, how much willingness to change or be changed, to grow and to be grown, how much faith and hope, how much love and gratitude. You pack these with your lunch and medications, your date book and your papers. Every day, we gather what we think will need, pick up what we love and all that we so far believe, put on our history, shoulder our experience and memory, take inventory of our blessings, and we start walking toward morning. And I invite you now to join in singing our next hymn, number 391. We will sing this through twice. You may be seated. As some of you know, I am currently studying to become a Unitarian Universalist Minister. It took a lot of listening, listening to that voice still and small, to get to this place where I am with you today. In this month, when the theme is journey and on this weekend, when the topic is journey of lifelong learning, it seems only fitting that I would share with you some of my journey into ministry. For those of you who had the chance to read my column in the March newsletter, you'll recall that I reflected a little bit on maps and as and how they relate to our journeys. Maps are not only beautiful, but they also can be very useful, especially when you know where you want to go. In my case, however, I have not always known where I have wanted to go. As Reverend Victoria Safer described in our reading today, and much like that Dr. Seuss character trying to get to Salah Salu, I have been making maps as I go, looking for signs that I am on the right path. Indeed, maps for me have been more about helping me to see where I have been. They have been a tool to help me reflect. And truth be told, reflecting is something I am pretty comfortable with. You see, even as a young child, I was encouraged to reflect on my life, to listen for that still small voice within. Once it started at the age of three when my family moved into a cooperative living situation called the religious house, it was in this setting that we were introduced to rituals and spiritual practices that could carry us through our lives. And even after we moved out of the house the following year, we continued with those rituals. One such ritual was the bedtime ritual. At the end of each day, my sisters and I would reflect on the highs and lows of the day. Now, I have heard young people in religious education classes call them brags and bummers, or happy and crappies. Here in worship services, we call them joys and sorrows. In my family of origin, we call them yeses and noes. So each night when I was getting tucked into bed, one of the adults in my life would do the bedtime ritual for me. It would include asking me, what did you say yes to today? And my response might include things like playing with my friends, or enjoying a favorite TV show, or getting to eat chocolate chip cookie dough. Then they would ask me, what did you say no to today? And I would mention this splinter that got stuck in my foot, or how one of my sisters had hurt my feelings. Then in the comforting and repetitive nature of the ritual, my grown-up would ask three questions. The yeses and noes are all received, right? Right, I would reply. The day is complete, right? Right. Tomorrow waits for you to create, right? Right. This ritual helped me to acknowledge all that had happened during the day, so that I could restfully prepare for the day ahead. Yes, reflecting on our lives was the norm in my family of origin, not just at the end of each day, but after other events, too. For example, my family would reflect on movies that we had seen together, or even pieces of artwork we would ask each other, what did we see, and how did that make us feel? And how is our life different now, because we have experienced this? So it wasn't just the what of our experiences that we reflected upon, the yeses and noes, but it was also the so-what that we explored. It seems to me that the so-what of life is similar to that voice still and small. In order to reflect on how our lives are different now, we have to, each of us, listen for that voice. What is it calling us to do? What is the so-what of life? Voice still and small, deep inside whole, I hear you call, singing. As you can imagine, the decision to leave a successful and satisfying career for a path marked with uncertainty is not an easy decision to make. And yet, moving towards ministry felt like an authentic next step for me. Part of the reason I finally started on the journey towards ordained ministry is because I noticed patterns in my life. I listened to that voice still and small. In fact, there were many moments when I listened to that voice. I listened for my yeses, I listened for my noes, I listened for the so-what of my life. And upon reflection, it turned out that most of the time I was listening in church. It was 1995 or so when I first stepped into the James Reeve Unitarian Universalist congregation. I was still in my first graduate degree program at the time, and I was seeking a congregation where I could lay down the burdens of my academic life, at least just for an hour a week. Two or so years later, thanks to an adult religious education program there, I fell in love with the woman who would become my wife, Bev. I myself became a family woman, eager to raise Bev's daughter, now our daughter, in a spiritual community that accepted our family for who we were. As with all congregations, there were a lot of volunteer opportunities. Early on, I was asked to become a religious education teacher. So eventually, I co-facilitated the sexuality curriculum for Semath and 9th graders, I assisted with the preschoolers, and I coordinated the Coming of Age program. But about racial justice, I helped host conferences and trainings and classes. Having grown up taking music lessons, I joined the choir. Eventually, I headed up the library committee, joined the hospitality crew, co-chaired the remodeling task force. I also served as president of the board, chaired the stewardship team, and served as a worship leader. What a rich variety of experiences. Now, of course, I couldn't do all of these things at once. I was working full-time after all, so each year, I would listen to that still small voice within to determine where I wanted to volunteer next. What was I really interested in? What was calling me? Was I starting to feel obligated and resentful? If so, I knew it was time for a change. Was I excited and invigorated to share my gifts in order to co-create a beloved community with fellow congregants also on the journey? Well, that's where I wanted to be. Voice still and small, deep inside hall, you call singing. Then Universalist minister, the Reverend Eric Walker Wickstrom, wrote a book entitled, Serving with Grace, Lay Leadership as a Spiritual Practice. In his chapter called No is as Sacred as Yes, he underscores the importance of listening to that voice still and small when he writes the following. Where do you want to spend your time and energy? How can your talents best serve your congregation? These are questions that often go unasked because the needs of the congregations can seem so overwhelming that, well, to put it bluntly, it often seems that they just need a warm body, and those of us willing to answer the call go where we are told we are needed. Questions such as, what do I want to do, and where might I best be of use are also not considered because of the way our churches often ask for help. He continues, if our service to the church is to be a spiritual practice, not just a road to resentment, then it is worth taking the time to practice the ancient art of discernment. What if, he continues, during the membership orientation, you heard the idea that in this congregation your no is as sacred as your yes, that here you were expected to say yes only when you could say it with an open heart and a clear conscience, and you were expected to say no as often as that felt like the right thing to say. Then he concludes his chapter with this, as Howard Thurman once said, don't ask what the world needs, ask what makes you come alive, then do that thing, because what the world needs is people who are more alive. The same goes for congregations. And so for years, I was seeking to become more alive while also listening closely to my call within the church, and then that call started to sound slightly different. It started asking me harder questions. What if my call was not just to this beloved community, but to the unitary, universalist faith as a whole? What if my desire for justice making that is rooted in spiritual practices? What if my vision for connecting people with their passions? What if my love for living from a mindset of generosity and abundance? What if all of these needed a different context, a different environment in order to fully bloom? For those of you who have tried such listening, you know that it can be challenging to hear that voice still and small. Sometimes the sound is so faint, and sometimes life seems so busy, it's just too hard to slow down long enough to pay attention. And sometimes we may hear calls to places that we do not feel ready to go to yet. It's not always an easy journey, and yet it is our journey nonetheless. Voice still and small, deep inside, all singing. We are in a unique moment, my friends. Yes, as individuals, each one of us has circumstances that we are facing, sorrows or challenges, doors opening or ideas taking root. Every day brings us another opportunity to listen to our yeses and our noes, to our so-whats. We get to reflect on the maps of our lives, to see where we have been, and to listen to that still small voice within, to learn where we might be headed next. Maybe that listening is happening within the congregational setting. Where are you excited to serve? Or maybe it is happening out in the wider world, for there is no shortage of causes to which we can add our energy and excitement. And beyond our circumstances as individuals, we are in a unique moment as a congregation, as a community of people. Because we are in an interim period between two called ministers, we have an opportunity to listen to the yeses and the noes, the so-whats of our shared life. For folks committed to First Unitarian Society, we have the opportunity to reflect on the map of this congregation and to listen to what may be collectively calling us into the future. In the weeks and months ahead, I invite you to take some time to slow down long enough to listen deeply to your voice still and small. Make space in your schedule. Make space in your life. Feel free to journal or draw a map of where you have been. Do you see themes coming up? Do you see patterns that have something to tell you? And if you need, find a trusted friend or a small group to engage in this reflection with you. Telling our stories, sharing our maps, speaking our yeses and noes aloud, this can all bring us more insights, help us make more connections, and remind us of our fellow travelers. Wherever the call, wherever the journey calls us next, both as individuals and as a community, remember this, we travel with companions. Together, what seems at first daunting might actually turn out to be delightful. I will close with these encouraging words from the Unitarian Universalist minister, Wayne Arneson, who writes, Take courage, friends. The way is often hard. The path is never clear. And the stakes are very high. Take courage. For deep down, there is another truth. You are not alone. Blessed be an amen. The offering we take each week is an opportunity to recommit to this place and to these people. Our offering is an affirmation, a yes. When we give, we say yes to something we value. With our gifts freely given, we say yes to the values of our faith. May our offering help us practice Unitarian Universalism within and beyond these walls as tools to empower our mission and the mission of this week's outreach offering partner, the Wisconsin Network for Peace, Justice, and Sustainability, a coalition committed to a world free from violence and injustice. We thank you for your generosity, so that we can all together say yes to the lights of hope, love, and peace. We thank you for your generous gifts. And we appreciate all the ways you give to this community. We want to express particular thanks to those who helped make our service possible this morning. Our greeter was Claire Box. Our sound operator is Mark Schultz. Our ushers are Pamela McMullen and the rest of the folks who graciously volunteered to step in when we had only one volunteer originally. In addition to Pamela, Bev Schimansky upstairs, Ron Cook, and John McGevna doing double duty as both an usher and out at the welcome table after the service. Hospitality, the coffee, and lemon water is being provided by Mike and Mo Lancaster. And I thought we had a special announcement, and I see him running along in the back. And there he is, Steve Goldberg. I have to live up to his energy just a little bit. Oh, no. And here he is. Thanks for holding your applause. So I'm excited on this St. Patrick's Day as chair of the stewardship campaign for 2019 to bring you up to date on the exciting progress we are making. And as I described the progress we're making with the stewardship campaign, I invite you to think about what we've all experienced this morning and what we experience every weekend here. Because what we've experienced today is an example, a great example of what stewardship looks like. So think back. We had wonderful music performed by our staff as well as by members of our teen choir. We had a story for all ages that really is for all of us. And then after that story, what did the children do? They went to their religious education programming. And that's an example of stewardship because it's helping those young people feel valued here. And the service, again, that's another example of what stewardship looks like at First Unitarian Society. And speaking of what it looks like, look at this space that we enjoy. That's the result of stewardship. So what stewardship is doing is it's providing the so what of FUS. It's enabling us to do all these things and enjoy all these experiences and all this value. So stewardship right now looks like $600,000 towards our $1.5 million goal that has been pledged by about 200 of us so far. And of those 200 pledges, half are at a higher level than last year's level. And one fourth are multi-year pledges making those pledges sustaining stewards of this organization committing to a year after year level of support for FUS. And I should add a very important point that even though our goal is large, $1.5 million, not every pledge has to be huge in order to be valued. A pledge of any amount, $5 a year, is as important as a pledge of $5,000 a year because it's the kind of participation at all levels that stewardship is made of. So I ask those of you who have just not gotten around to it yet to get around to it. And make sure that by April 5, when we have a Friday evening family celebration here, that you've had a chance to consider at what level you want to express your stewardship so that we can support the so what of First Unitarian Society. So the magic number today is 19. That's how many days until April 5, 19 days. And I'll even write a song for that party, especially if we meet our goal. But we're not just gonna celebrate on April 5, we're gonna celebrate every week by recognizing somebody who has participated in the Stewardship Campaign and giving them a $25 gift card for food fight restaurants. And our winner today is the family of Mark and Jennifer Yancey. So thanks to them, and I think I saw them leave earlier. They were here earlier, but they had to leave. They and their daughters, Peyton and Phoebe. So we'll make sure that they get the gift card as well as our thanks. So stewardship takes many forms and it comes in many sizes. And Roz Woodward would like to come forward right now and share with us what stewardship means to her as she explains, come on, come on, explains why she has decided to be a participant in our act of stewardship. Roz? Steve wanted to fire questions at me and I said, uh-uh, my mind goes blank when that happens. So I prepared something. In 1972, my husband David and I bought land in Vernon County, Wisconsin. We'd both been brought up in England where there's a strong legacy of land stewardship. Now, over 40 years later, my understanding of stewardship has matured. It means looking at the big picture, anticipating the future and doing the best I can with the means at my disposal to make things better than they were. To leave it for the benefit of those who follow. When Doug Watkins, our interim minister, heard our collective values, he gathered them together as stars. I can check off every one of them. Some are inevitably linked. I don't know how you separate stars number one and three for instance, music and deepening spirituality. David and I had always sunk together in a choir. So shortly after we found FUS in 1998 or thereabouts, we joined the society choir where I can give and receive the blessings of shared harmony. Add to that as a midwife with every birth, I was confronted by the absence of a feminine God figure in Western theology. I have exposure and support here for deep exploration of other beliefs as we learn and sing together. And how does star number two, social justice, not link with star number four, small groups? Margaret Mead pointed out that a few committed people can change the world. We have those here. Because of that, every year, peace poles spring up on Mother's Day. I had an idea that was able to be nurtured and fed here and still goes on and grows every year. We support one another too. Most specifically, I commit to lay ministry, lay worship, which are two different things, and the Healing Journeys Grief Group. Star five is the spirit of space. And we only have to open our eyes and look around us to share the wonders of this unique facility. This place feeds my soul. When I see something that needs doing, I can make it happen here. Like my land, its beauty and treasured memories are very special. But unlike my land, it's an excellent investment. Please join me in whatever way best suits your style so we can move into the future with the confidence we will leave this place better than we found it. Thanks. Thank you, Roz. That's another example of what stewardship looks like. And it can look like that for all of us. And if you're wondering how to express your stewardship and you have questions regarding your pledge card and the process of making that pledge or you need an extra packet, Cheryl and Florence from staff are standing at the back of the room. They will be out in the commons during our break to help answer any questions you might have about your pledge process and your participation in the stewardship campaign. So let me remind you that stewardship also looks like this. And like this. And like this. And like this. And this. And there's more, including some wrapped in green wrappers. So thanks for all of your support as part of the stewardship campaign in this effort to address the so what about First Unitarian Society. Thank you, Steven. Thank you, Roz. Is everyone okay? Aw, I got a green one. Really? Are y'all okay? We gather together each week with hearts that are filled with gratitude for the gifts of our lives and also with deep sorrow for life's losses and pains. This week we hold in our hearts the great joy of the Yancey family as they celebrate the end of Phoebe's cancer treatments and her very clean scan last Monday. We join our gratitude with theirs and also send our continued prayers for more clean scans in Phoebe's future. Our hearts are with Susan Malar and family as they mourn the passing of Terry, a memorial services plan for next Sunday, March 24th at 3 p.m. with a visitation at 2 here in this room. We also send our love to Jerry Moser, whose brother passed away this past week, and also to Coe Williams, whose sister suffered a brain injury after falling on the ice and is being taken off life support. And we pray this day for the 50 members of the Linwood Mosque in Christchurch, New Zealand, who lost their lives in a senseless act of violence and hatred. As the candles burn outside that holy place, we pray for strength for those who have lost their loved ones, for those who have lost the sanctity of their religious community, and for those who wait and pray by the side of the injured. So much sorrow, pain, and loss, so many tragic and violent acts, one following the next. We ask the spirit of life and love to help us hold hope as a flickering flame, to help us build solidarity, to witness, to grasp hands, to build courage, to do everything we can to bring forth the power of love in this world. Blessed be, and amen. And I invite you now to rise in all the ways we do for our closing hymn, number 298. We'll sing verses one, three, and five. Blessed is the path on which you travel. Blessed is the body that carries you upon it. Blessed is your heart that has heard the call. Blessed is your mind that discerns the way. Blessed is the gift that you will receive by going, and truly blessed is the gift that you will become on the journey. We extinguish our communal flame, but not the quest for truth, not the warmth of community, nor the fire of commitment. Those remain within each of us until our journey brings us together again. I invite you to be seated for one last gift of music.