 Please join me in a moment of centering silence. We are in gathering him which is 123 in your hymnals, Spirit of Life. 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. I'm Maureen Friend 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 fellowship hour after the service and to look for people holding teal coffee mugs. They 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, so if you would like to learn more about our sustainably designed addition or our national landmark meeting house, please meet near the large glass window on the left side of the auditorium immediately following the service. We welcome children to stay for the duration of the service, but if you or your child needs to talk or move around, the child haven or comments are good places to retire. The service can still be seen and heard from those areas. This would be a good time to turn off all your electronics. And now I'd like to acknowledge those individuals who help our services run smoothly. So Mark is making me sound good. Mark Schultz and our lay minister is Ann Smiley. One of the greeters was also Ann Smiley. There was Patty White, Sam Bates, Teresa Berkson-Gallon, and we had ushers who, sorry, I'm mixing people up. So the ushers were Sam, Teresa is the usher, Elizabeth Barrett is the usher, and Patricia Becker was one of our ushers, and Jeannie Hills made the coffee that's going to go with the lovely cake that you'll have later. So there are a few extra announcements in addition to what's in the order of service. Thanks to everyone. This one is about Cabaret. So thank you to everyone who was involved with Cabaret on March, on May 12th. We greatly appreciate the guests who attended and all the volunteers who helped, the members who donated auction items, and to everyone who bid on them. But just a reminder, if you were the high bid on the auction item, please pick up the item in A8, which is a staff office sometime between 9 and 4.30 on weekdays. There's also some second chance auction items still available in the comments. Please check those out. If you have any questions, contact Molly Kelly. And then notice that our intern, Eric Severson, he will end his time with us at the end of this month. So please stop by the intern ministry table in the comments to write a personal message to be included with a gift that they will be giving Eric on the last day in the pulpit, which is May 28th. So again, welcome. We hope that today's service will stimulate your mind, touch your heart and stir your spirit. Let this hour be for us a time of celebration and a time of renewal. In celebration, let our minds be awake to the common miracle of the earth, the sparkling grace of the river and the lake, to the answering spirit within. In renewal, let our minds be aware of the deep down freshness of this new day, of holiness, let loose in creation and the responding affirmation within. Let this hour be a time of celebration when we feel at one with the mystery in which we move and have our being. Let this hour be a time of renewal when we let go of past disappointments and present anxieties to embrace the healing power of our communion. I invite you to rise in body or in spirit for the lighting of our chalice. And please join me in repeating the words of affirmation brilliant in your program. May we each bring our best selves to this celebration, our ideals, dreams and noble aspirations. May the flame we kindle symbolize our desire for a committed, compassionate and constructive life. May this gathered community inspire us to pursue life's worthiest goals. And now in the spirit of friendship, I would invite you to turn to your neighbor in exchange with them a warm greeting. Please be seated. These are the words of Norbert Chepec, infinite and inexhaustible spirit of life. Feel your blessings on these flowers, colorful messengers of fellowship and love. May they remind us amidst our great diversity of understanding and temperament, remind us to be one in desire, one in affection, one in devotion to compassionate living. May these flowers also remind us of the need for sharing and cooperation in our common quest for peace and understanding. May we always cherish friendship and community as one of life's most precious gifts. May we not let jealousy or resentment of another person's gifts and talents. May we not let this discourage us or estrange us. May we realize that the efforts of all of us, the goodwill of all of us are needed to heal and to transform our troubled world. And now I would invite any children who are ready and eager and willing to come forward for the message of all ages. Oh, we got a flower. Thank you. Let's see. Let's put this one over here. So we've got lots of color here, don't we? Did you think that we could have so many colorful flowers in one place? Yeah. Well, this is a story from the American Indian tradition, the Papago Indian tribe, also known as the Tahona Udom, and they live in Southern Arizona, long, long way from here. And this is a story, a creation story that's also about color, okay? So one beautiful spring day, the creator was resting and sitting and watching some children play in the village. And the children were laughing and they were singing, and yet as she watched these children, the creator's heart was getting heavy. She was starting to feel kind of sad. Why was that? Because she was thinking to herself, these children are all going to grow up. They're all going to become adults, and they're going to have work to do, and they're going to have responsibilities like all adults do, and there's not going to be as much time to play. And so their joy and their happiness is going to kind of diminish. It's going to go down. And eventually all these children, they'll be adults, but then they're all going to grow old, and their strength is going to fail, and the glow in their faces is going to fade. And this was making the creator sad to think about the future. And then she was watching some playful puppies. And the creator thought, these creatures, too, they're going to age, and their beauty will not last. And she looked around and said, look at all these beautiful flowers, and they're going to lose their color, and they're all going to wither away. And the new leaves on the trees outside in the springtime, they're going to dry up and they're going to fall down. And so despite all the joy and all of the beauty around her, the creator's heart was getting sadder and sadder as she thought about what was going to happen in the future. She realized everything's going to change. You can't stop that. And beauty is not going to last. But then she kind of looked up, and she realized, I don't need to always be thinking about the future, do I? I can think about the present moment. And in the present moment, a while ago, the sun was out there shining, and she said, I can watch the play of the sunlight and the shadow on the ground from all the clouds above, the shadows that the clouds are making, and the flower petals from the apple trees and the cherry trees are drifting in the breeze, and it's so pretty. And she saw the intent blueness of the sky, the whiteness of the cornmeal that the women in the village were grinding for their tortillas. And as she saw all this, she smiled, and she said, look at all these vibrant colors. I'd like to see some way that we could preserve them for a longer period of time. So I'm going to do something different. I'm going to do something new. I'm going to make a new creation for myself, and that'll bring joy back to my heart and to the hearts of the children. And so the creator took out her bag, her big bag, and she started to gather things to put in her bag. And so she got a spot of sunlight, and she put that spot of sunlight in the bag. And she scooped up some blue out of the sky, and she put the blue into her bag. And some of the whiteness from the cornmeal that the women were grinding, and the gray shadow where the children had been playing and casting shadows on the ground. She got some of the blackness from a beautiful girl's hair, the yellow of a daffodil, the green of the pine needles, and the red and the orange and the purple from all the desert flowers around her. And all of these colors she put in her bag, and then as an afterthought, she kind of said, hmm, something else is needed here. So she took the songs of the birds, and she put the songs of the birds in the bag too. And then she walked over to the grassy area where all the children were playing, and she said, children, children, look at my bag, I've got something special for you. And she gave the bag several real hard shakes, shaped it all up, and then she handed it to one of the children. And she said, open it, open it, there's a surprise in here. Something really nice. And so the child opened up the bag and out flew all of these colorful butterflies. And they were dancing around the children's heads, they were sitting on their hair, they were fluttering up to each sweet flower and drinking the nectar from the flower. And the children were looking, they'd never seen anything like this before, they were completely amazed. Nothing was ever that beautiful that they'd ever seen. And then the butterflies did something really weird. They began to sing. And the children listened to these sweet songs and they were smiling. And then a little brown plain bird landed on the creator's shoulder and scolded the creator, saying, it is not right that you gave our songs to these pretty creatures. You told us when you made us that every bird would have their own song and now you have gone and just passed our songs all around willy-nilly. Isn't it enough that you gave your new playthings all these beautiful colors? Did you have to give them our songs as well? Well, that made the creator think. And she was really a very fair-minded person. She said, you know, you birds are right. I did make one song for every bird and now I have taken what really belonged to you. And so what did the creator do? She took the songs away from the butterflies. And so that is why today they are still very, very beautiful. But have you ever heard a butterfly sing? No, that's right. So now we're gonna stay right where we are and we're gonna listen to our children sing one more song for us. Thank you Heather, thank you Choir for another wonderful year of music. And as this is the last day of our church school classes until next fall, let's give a round of applause to all of our teachers this year. Enjoy your classes and we hope to see some of you at summer fun over the next few months. So we continue with a selection from the Hebrew scriptures from the book of Genesis, the 18th chapter. And the Lord appeared to Abraham by the oaks of Mamre as he sat at the door of his tent in the heat of the day. And Abraham lifted up his eyes and he looked and behold, three men stood in front of him. And when he saw them, he ran from his tent to meet them and he bowed down to the earth and said, my lords, if I have found favor in your sight, do not pass your servant by. Let a little water be brought, wash your feet, rest yourselves under the tree while I fetch you a morsel of bread, so that you may refresh yourselves. And after that, then you can pass on since you have come to meet your servant. And so they replied to him, yes, do as you have said. And so Abraham hastened into his tent and spoke to his wife, Sarah, and said, make ready quickly three measures of fine meal, knead it and make it into cakes. And Abraham then ran to the herd. He took a calf, tender and good, and gave it to the servant who hastened to prepare it. Then he took curds and milk and the calf which he had prepared and he set it before his guests and he stood by them under the tree while they ate. And our second reading from the Christian scriptures from Luke. Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. Teacher, he said, what must I do to inherit eternal life? He said to him, what is written in the law? What do you read there? He answered, you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul, with all your strength and with all your mind and love your neighbor as yourself. And he said to him, you have given the right answer, do this and you will live. But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, and who is my neighbor? Jesus replied, a man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell into the hands of robbers who stripped him, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite when he came to the place and saw him passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan while traveling came near him and when he saw him he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two Denarii, gave them to the innkeeper and said, take care of him. And when I come back I will repay you whatever more you spend. Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers? He said the one who showed him mercy. Jesus said to him, go and do likewise. And if you will rise in body or spirit for our next hymn, number 352. Come and sight in Transylvanian homes are the words of the Seike Aldash or the Hazi Aldash, the house blessing. Embroidered and framed and hung on the wall. The one hanging before you was a gift to our congregation by a Unitarian woman who runs a shop in the Transylvanian pottery village of Korond. Translated the blessing reads, where there is faith there is love. Where there is love there is peace. Where there is peace there is blessing. Where there is blessing there is God. Where there is God there, there is no need. This embroidery was given to us last summer as 24 pilgrims made their way from Madison to Romania. We were an interesting group with ages ranging from 10 to 87 years. With six ministers, four from the US and two from the Khazi Hills in India. Some Unitarian Universalists since birth, most yearning to learn more about the history of their chosen faith. It was a special journey for me as I brought along that 10 year old Sam to meet a people so very far away in distance, language and culture, yet such a very large part of who we are as a family of faith. 25 years ago, our congregation became partnered with the Unitarian Church of Na Joyta in the Transylvanian region of Romania. It's a magical place. The photographer George Ivanu describes it this way. Romania is alive. It permanently offers us opportunities for spiritual healing. It means searching. It means living and everything is waiting for the traveler who has set off who is resolved to love it. It is love and that is all. We will receive without expecting and we will be received in places, rooms among people. We will be received as long lost family returning home to the arms of those who love us, devoting ourselves to it, to its people and its ways. We will be hosted by immortality, by day and by night. Many of you know the story of our partnership, but let me retell it briefly as I like to do on each flower communion or as some of you know, every chance I get. On Christmas day in 1989, the reign of Nicolai Cecescu was ended and with it the Communist Party of Romania. Shortly before this happened, our own Max Gabler minister here up until 1987 was in Europe and Max traveled to Kholishvar to the headquarters of the Unitarian Church and he spoke with representatives there. Max asked them, what can we do? The answer, bring back the sister church program that was begun after World War II. With the fall of communism shortly after, the reopening of communication with congregations in the West and the work of many in Romania, Hungary and here in the US, the partner church council was born. In a letter in 1990, Max wrote to Michael, at long last I have more reliable information concerning our sister church in Transylvania. By 1992, we had a name of a village who had agreed to partner with us and Max along with Ruth Gibson and six others traveled to meet them face-to-face. The congregation of Najweta gave that delegation this, a carved laundry paddle and in return, Ruth gave them one of these, an embroidery with a picture of the landmark building and the quote that's painted in that room. That delegation was unaware in 1992 that they were enacting an ancient marriage ritual. A young man carves a laundry paddle for the one he wishes to marry and if the paddle is accepted, an embroidery is given to him in return. 25 years ago, we committed ourselves for the long haul to the beautiful, generous, loving people of Najweta. We've struggled to understand what life was like for them in those years of oppression, what life was like year after year. Several years ago, Maria Papp, minister in Transylvania wrote these words which bring us the beginning of an idea. Our 435 years of history as a church have been years of struggle and oppression because of our faith or ethnicity or both. We endured Turkish, German, Russian, Romanian armies and we have behind us 40 years of communism from which we are struggling hard to get free. In all these times, our unitary and church and faith was the source which gave us strength and sustenance to keep going. It did not shelter us from deceptions, from treason, from secret police, from suspicion or from everyday miseries but taught us the importance of community and human solidarity, the importance of faith in times of adversity. Since 1989, we have been trying to learn democracy but the burden of the past is heavy. We were oppressed for so long that we forgot the taste of freedom. We had to keep silent for so long that we do not know how to use freedom of speech. We had to live in fear for so long that we rarely have the courage to stand up for our rights. We had to live in suspicion for so long that we feel vulnerable in bestowing trust. We were told what to do for so long that we are confused and frightened to make our own decisions. We are living now in a different world, she says, but the wounds of the past are hard to heal. We have to relearn the lesson of freedom and democracy and all that entails trust, tolerance, responsibility for others and ourselves, the importance of the common good. For us, you, America, you were always the symbol of freedom and democracy of a land where people who fled all kinds of oppression, who come from various cultural and ethnic backgrounds, you live together in harmony. We looked upon you as our saviors, our big brother who would step up and deliver us from oppression. We waited for you. We waited for so long and you did not come. During the darkest years of communism, when there was no food, no electricity, no heat, the only thought which kept us going was the Americans will come, but you did not. And then something miraculous happened. You came and in a way which alleviated all our misapprehensions and made true our hopes and dreams. You, as Unitarian Universalists, you were looking for your roots for our common history and faith. We, Unitarians from Transylvania, we were looking for help, for sustenance and solidarity. We found each other. Our communities found each other and opened up new ways of understanding ourselves and enriching our lives. We are the old ones with roots firmly grounded with cobwebs here and there, but looking forward to a future symbolized by you relying on your strength. Your visits teach us about the strength and commitment you have to your chosen faith and you give us the wonderful feeling of knowing we are not alone. Your dedication and solidarity remind us that faith and religion are not about abstract, theological debates, but about love, about caring for one another, about working for justice and peace for all of us and in all of us. What does having a partner congregation mean? What does it mean to be in relation with people in a small village in the Carpathian mountains in Romania? What does it mean to visit there, to leave the main road and travel through the narrow streets of other villages, to come to a rise in the road and head down the other side and see the village hall and the school, the small grocery store, the parsonage, the community house, the carved gate with Ishten al-Jone carved in the top? God bless you. There is the courtyard, there are the people. Leaven to the minister and his wife Yutka, their children, the mayor and his family, the people, all the people. They are crying and we are crying. We scramble off the bus into their arms, throw away the Hungarian English dictionaries. What is happening here is universal. Moments we will never forget. Standing in the entryway of the church where the edict of Torda, the first declaration of religious tolerance was issued by King John Sigismund, the only Unitarian king of Transylvania in 1568. Seeing the boulder that Francis David stood upon in the middle of the city of Kholishvar where he delivered an impassioned speech that inspired the entire city to become Unitarian at that moment. Singing Spirit of Life in the chapel at the citadel at Deva where Francis David died after being imprisoned for heresy and feeling connected to almost 500 years of our history. Hearing the word welcome in Hungarian, knowing it means God brought you. Standing in a circle before we left Najoyta, looking into the eyes of each person from the village, hugging each one and saying thank you. Kusanim, as they circled around us. Watching them wave goodbye as the bus drove out of the village all of this, all of this and more. Our readings today are in honor of our friends in Transylvania whose Unitarian faith is based on the Hebrew and Christian scriptures. These two stories very familiar in their worship and common life. The Good Samaritan and Abraham welcoming the strangers. These contain messages that frame who they are and how they live in the world. Eight years ago when Levente and Yutka visited us, Levente delivered a sermon based on the parable of the Good Samaritan. In that sermon he said, this parable sums up the essence of what we call Christianity. The unconditional and absolute love of God and humanity. It asks us who is your neighbor? From the point of view of the Samaritan, the neighbor was the unknown Jewish man he met on the road. So a neighbor is anyone you meet, anyone brought into your life. Anyone brought into your life whose condition waits for your reaction. The parable may sound very simple. Why couldn't we do it? There's nothing complicated about it. Yes, it is simple. If you do one thing, accept the other person just the way he or she is. Being a neighbor, Levente said, means being able to accept others exactly as they are with their different languages, culture, faith, traditions. It reminds us that the most important commandment is love. In Transylvania, we say God is eternal and endless love. How can we act intolerantly toward one another when we are all children of this love? We have a great mission to transform our world into one community. This can only be done by free people working together. We cannot do this alone. We need each other. We can transform our earth and only together can we do this. Then we come to the image of Abraham at his tent. The scripture says that Abraham was sitting at the entrance of his tent. The Midrash, those ancient rabbinical commentaries on the scriptures, adds that Abraham was sitting there because he was looking for strangers to welcome into his home. According to the Midrash, Abraham had the four sides of his tent open to the four winds of the earth, north, south, east, and west, so that guests could enter his home from any direction. Is this not a beautiful and inspiring picture of hospitality? This open tent policy is what you would find if you were to travel to Najweta. The culture is one of interdependence, the knowledge that no one can do it alone, that we don't have to, that what is needed in this world to survive are open doors, welcoming tables, and open hearts. The people of Najweta have been on my mind as I've been working with our sanctuary ministry team. On June 4th at the parish meeting, we will be asking you to consider an open tent policy to a person who is in immediate danger of deportation, possibly opening our physical space to someone as sanctuary. This is an act of hospitality, an act of love for the good of all, and yes, it is an act of political resistance. I think of the suffering our family of faith lived with for 40 years. The fear, the hatred, the acts of violence, the suspicion, the torture of being ripped away from those you love. I think of them and I try not to weep. They waited for us and we did not come. Yet when we did, the miraculous happened and lives were changed. We have an opportunity here and now to stand up and say no, no we will not be ruled by fear or by hate, we will be ruled by love. There are people who are waiting for us, who are asking for our help, will we come? Will we stand by the marginalized and oppressed, the vulnerable and the very afraid? Will we open the sides of our tent to the four winds of the earth? The hospitality I experienced in Najweta, a hospitality that makes room in ourselves for the new and the strange and the other, that stretches our boundaries to include a larger picture with all its ambiguities, its contradictions, and its loose ends. Rabbi Goldstein, who's a rabbi in New York City, said that we live in an era of disturbing violence, of terror and alienation. We're living during a dark period. Its evolution is uncertain and unsettling. Our own spiritual heritage offers correctives, pathways that allow us to regain the anchors of community we so deeply crave. One of the basic rules of tribal life is that the motivation for our behavior is grounded, not in what we want to do, but in what we must do. Abraham's tent was exposed to every direction. It was welcoming, but it made him vulnerable. That is precisely the point. It is only through vulnerability that genuine community can emerge, that commitment and compassion become intertwined and inseparable. Both require a risk on our part, and both necessitate that we make a leap of faith, a leap for humanity. We recognize that we are asking you to take a leap with the motion to become an official sanctuary congregation, joining together with 25 other congregations in Dane County who are committed to being involved in this work in some way. There is ambiguity in this process. There are questions that we will not be able to answer until someone is physically in sanctuary here in Dane County. What we are asking you to commit to is the inherent worth and dignity of every person, a world of justice for all people, and a commitment to stand with others of all faiths in solidarity with the most vulnerable among us. This is the allure of Transylvania, but it happens around the world and can happen here as well. It can happen here at First Unitarian Society. Remember the tent of Abraham, open to every direction, open to every stranger, radical hospitality, a pathway to regain the anchors of community we so deeply crave. Each and all of us around this precious world, even half a world away, over the hill, past the school and the store, the parsonage, the fortress church, the people, Ishten Aljung, blessings everywhere. So from your partner, 6,000 miles away, who welcome you anytime with open arms and open hearts, I leave you with this. Where there is faith, there is love. Where there is love, there is peace. Where there is peace, there is blessing. Where there is blessing, there is God. Where there is God, there, there is no need. And I now invite you into the giving and receiving of today's offering, and our offering in its entirety is shared with our partner church in Najweta. This money supports scholarships for high school students who attend a boarding school about 45 miles away. It also supports the church's music program. We assist them financially each year out of a place of gratitude and deep connection for those who have kept our faith alive for over 400 years. We thank you for your generosity. Each week as a community of memory, to this time and this place, we bring our whole and occasionally our broken selves. We carry with us the joys and sorrows of the recent past, seeking here a place where they might be received and shared and celebrated. And so now we would acknowledge an entry in our Cares of the Congregation book from member Lori Schwartz, who says that it is their good fortune to have invited Shane and Michael into their family. And then this note, we mourn the loss of First Unitarian Society member John Foltz, who died unexpectedly two nights ago while on his way home from Washington, D.C. We do extend sincere condolences to John's wife, Rita, and we understand that in time, memorial service for John will be held in his hometown of Washburn, Wisconsin, in Bayfield County. In addition to those mentioned, we would acknowledge any other unexpressed joys and sorrows that remain among us. We hold those with equal concern in our hearts. Let us sit silently for just a moment or two in the spirit of empathy and hope. So by virtue of our brief time together today, may our burdens be lightened and our joys expanded. I invite you to rise once more in body or in spirit for our closing hymn number 112. Please be seated. Two items of note, there will be a slideshow starting here on the big screen immediately after the postlude. So if you would like to see some photos of Transylvania and some photos of our partners, stick around or grab your coffee and come back in and you can see them. If you are interested in sanctuary or you've got questions or concerns, there is a question and answer session immediately following the service at 1230 over in the landmark auditorium. We invite you to join us over there. Now as we prepare to leave this place, I invite you to take one of these flowers which will be waiting for you as you exit the auditorium today. If by chance you did not bring a flower, take one anyway. Here we believe in abundance and the importance in knowing how to receive. Take a different one than the flower you brought. Take a flower as a symbol of gratitude for the beauty we did not create. Of gratitude for blessings we do not deserve. Of gratitude for joys which come when unexpected. Enter into the communion of flowers. Enter with joyful hearts. Enter with reverent thoughts. It has taken long months beneath cold ground for these flowers to prepare their blooming. It has taken each of us long times of growth through sorrow and joy to prepare for our living now. The blooming season is short. The flowers stay only a brief time. We are travelers upon the earth. Travelers through all two brief lifetimes. Therefore let our moments be bountiful. Let us rejoice in our unique colors. Let us celebrate together in love that as we travel away we take with us the memory of golden hours together here among the flowers. May these flowers ever speak to us of wonders and glories yet to be, of hopes fulfilled if we remember to tend our gardens and our homes with patience and wisdom and love. And we conclude with these words from Anna Quinn. Like a prairie whose health depends on its diversity of life forms. Our free congregations prosper when they permit a diversity of perspectives, when they are fertilized by curiosity, when they are watered by mutual respect and honor. Touched by the spark of all that is holy, let us go now in peace resolved to act upon these our most cherished values. Blessed be and amen.