 to his mother died, so we've got more to do. We've got to get the kid on the scene of the marriage. Well, yeah, I think so, but we've got to stop him there. So, of course, in 1992, I'm a lawyer, so it's still new. I mean, what do you expect? Well, it's very much like, oh, she knows it. So, I'm there, and then we'll go on to the next one. Let's go, let's go on to the next one. So, speaking of the day, I think she's in the top. And then, she's in the top. So, she's in the top. Yeah, it's been a while. She was in the top. No, I'm not. I'm just going to turn it down the way I'm going to. Let's see if it's not the right one. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. It's not. Let's join in a moment of centering silence so we can be fully present with each other this morning. And now let's get musically present by turning to the words for our in-gathering hymn which you'll find inside your order of service. One more time. It was so short I thought we should do it twice. Well good morning everybody. Welcome to another Sunday here at First Unitarian Society where independent thinkers gather in a safe, nurturing, and very sunny 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 proud but slightly imperfect member of this congregation. And I'd like to extend a special FUS welcome to any guests, visitors, and newcomers. If this is your first time at First Unitarian Society, I think you'll find that it's a special place. And if you'd like to learn more about our special buildings, we'll be conducting a guided tour of the buildings after the service. Just gather over here by the windows and we'll take care of you. Speaking of taking care of each other, this should be the perfect time to silence those pesky electronic devices that we just will not need during the service. And if you're accompanied today by a youngster, and you think that youngster might enjoy the service from a more private space, we offer a couple alternatives. Our child haven in the back corner of the auditorium and some comfortable seating just outside the doorway in the commons. As is the case every weekend, our service is brought to us by a wonderful group of people whom we call volunteers. And I'm going to read their names and please have a few warm thoughts in your heart for these people because they're making the service a lot smoother and more enjoyable today. Warm thoughts go to Tom Boykoff, who's serving as our lay minister, and also to Corinne Perrin, who greeted us upstairs as we arrived. Our ushers today, Nancy Daly, Ann Ostrom, and Tom Dalmage. And Biz Nitschke is handling the hospitality and coffee. John Powell is our tour guide. Just a couple brief announcements. One very important and that is that if you're the owner of a white sonata, your doors are open. And I know it's getting warmer today, but you might want to close those car doors of the white sonata in the parking lot. Okay. And who knows, how many days until cabaret, who knows? The number of days. 47 is correct. Thank you, Michael May. And yes, in 47 days on Friday evening, May 20th, we are going to Italy. Yes. And you don't even your passport or airline ticket, but you do need a little bit of money because cabaret is our annual fundraising party. It's an auction. It's an opportunity to hear an Italian strolling minstrel. Actually, he's not Italian, but the music he'll be playing as he strolls around is Italian. And we have some other entertainment for you of the Italian theme, as well as food of the Italian menu. And again, the auction items, however, will be unitarian, not Italian. So if you'd like to help put this together, organize it. If you have items you would like to donate for the all-important auction and you have any questions, check with Rhiannon on the FUS staff or go to the FUS website for a little bit more information. Again, how many days, Michael? Thank you. 47 days until a night in Italy, an evening in Italy, right here at FUS for our annual cabaret party. So end of the announcements. I invite you to sit back or lean forward to enjoy today's service. I know that it will touch your heart, stir your spirit, and trigger one or two new thoughts. We're glad you're here. You who are brokenhearted, who woke today with the winds of despair whistling through your mind, welcome and come in. You who are brave but wounded, limping through life and hurting with every step, come in. You who are fearful, who live with shadows hovering over your shoulders, come in. This place is sanctuary and it is for you. You who are filled with happiness, whose abundance overflows, come in. You who walk through your world with lightness and grace, who awoke this morning with strength and hope, you who have everything to give, come in. This place is your calling, a riverbank to channel the sweet waters of your life, the place where you are called by the world's need. Here we offer in love. Here we receive in gratitude. Here we make a circle from the great gifts of breath, attention, and purpose. Welcome and come in. And if you will rise now in body or spirit to join in the words of chalice lighting printed in your order of service, may the light of this chalice give light and warmth to our community when we are joyful and when we despair. And may we feel the warmth spread from our circle to wider and wider circles until all know they belong to the one circle of life. And before we join together in song, if you'll take a moment to turn and greet your neighbor, please be seated. This morning our youngest ones are over in children's chapel, but I know that we've got some middle schoolers with us, and I know that we have some beyond middle schoolers who also enjoy a story. So we're going to have a story anyway. And this is the story of old turtle and the broken truth. Once in a beautiful faraway land that was somehow not so very far. A land where every stone was a teacher and every breeze a language, where every lake was a mirror and a tree, a ladder to the stars. Into this far and lovely land there fell a truth. It streaked down from the stars trailing a tale as long as the sky. But as it fell, it broke. One of the pieces blazed off through the night sky and the other fell to earth in this beautiful land. In the morning, Crow found the fallen piece. It seemed to be a sort of stone, shiny and pleasing to the eye. He picked it up. This is a lovely truth, said Crow. I will keep it. And he carried it away. But after he had held it for a while and examined it closely, he said, this truth doesn't feel quite right. A part of it is missing. I will look for a whole one. And as he flew off, he dropped it to the ground. Other creatures who liked shiny things soon noticed the truth as well. Fox, coyotee, raccoon, bear, butterfly, each picked it up, carried it a while. But they, too, found that it had rough edges and was difficult to carry. And its sparkle soon lost its appeal. We do not need this broken truth, they said. We will find a whole one. After a while, none of the creatures even noticed the broken truth anymore. And it lay on the ground, forgotten. Then a human being found it. He was walking slowly, listening to the breezes, gazing at the beauty above and below when he found the broken truth. On it was writing, and the writing said, you are loved. The man held it carefully, thinking it was the loveliest thing he had ever seen. He tucked the broken truth into a safe place and kept it. Sometimes he would take it out and admire it, and the truth sparkled just for him and whispered its message to him alone. And the man thought he had never felt so proud and so happy. The man took the wonderful truth to his people, those who lived with him, spoke as he spoke, dressed as he dressed, and whose faces looked like his. And together they cherished their newfound truth and believed in it. They hugged it to themselves and it became their most important possession. After a while, the man and his people did not hear the language of breezes and stones, but heard only their truth. They did not see the mirrored beauty in the lakes or the ladders to the stars, but saw only their sparkling truth. And for them, it was enough. And they called it the truth. The truth made the people feel good and proud and strong, but soon they also began to feel fear and anger toward those who were not like themselves and did not share this truth. The other beings and other people of the lovely land seemed to be a threat. And the people with the truth said they were not important and they were less than because they did not have the truth. And the language of the breezes was hardly heard anymore. Time passed and other people said, we must have this great truth for ourselves, for with it comes happiness and power. Many battles were fought and the broken truth was won and lost over and over again. But such was its power and beauty that no one ever doubted it. And when they were without it, they felt a great emptiness. The stones and the trees suffered. The breezes and the water suffered. The animals and the earth and most of all, the people suffered. Finally, the animals went to old turtle, ancient and wise as the mountains and seas themselves. Crow and fox went, coyote went, raccoon, butterfly, bear, many others all went to see old turtle. The truth, these people quarrel over, they said, we've held it. It's broken and it doesn't work. Please tell the people. I'm sorry, said old turtle, but the people will not listen. They aren't ready and the suffering continued. Until one day, a little girl came to find old turtle. She had traveled very far, had crossed the mountains of imagining the river of wondering why, had found her way through the forest of finding out. And when she had grown tired, she had ridden on the backs of the animals or the wings of the birds, and they helped her find her way. Finally, they came to a great hill in the very center of the world. And from there, the little girl thought she had never seen so far or seen so much beauty. But when she saw old turtle, she could hardly speak. She simply looked with eyes full of wonder. Why have you come so far to find me? Asked old turtle. Her voice rumbled like far away thunder, but was as soft as the breeze through a caterpillar's whiskers. I wanted to ask you a question, answered the little girl. Where I live, the earth is sore and the people are suffering. Battles are fought over and over again. People say it's always been this way and will never change. Can it change? Old turtle said, the world you describe is not as it always has been. An old turtle told her of how the people had found the broken truth and the suffering that it had caused. It is because it is so close to a great whole truth, that it has such beauty and that the people love it so. But it is the lost portion of the truth that the people need, if the world is to be made whole. But where is the missing piece? Can we put it back together again? First, my child, you need to remember that there are truths all around us and within us. They fall upon us every day. The people clutching their one truth forgot that it is a part of all the small and lovely truths of life. The broken truth and life itself will be mended only when one person meets another, someone from a different place or with a different face or a different way and sees and hears themselves. Only then will the people know that every person, every being is important and the world was made for us to be together. Now, little one, it is time for you to go, to help the people mend their broken truth. Old Turtle placed something in the little girl's hand. I've saved it for a very, very long time for someone just like you. The little girl looked at what Old Turtle had given her. It was a kind of stone, mysterious and beautiful. It was lovely to touch and made her feel good to hold it. She squeezed it tightly and tucked it away. Now, when she returned home, at first the people didn't recognize her or understand what she was talking about. She told them of her journey and of the broken truth and the need to make it whole, but they didn't believe her. Crow, watching all that happened, flew to the place high above the village where the great truth was kept in a place where all could see it. He brought the broken truth to the little girl and she took the stone from her pocket and carefully added the missing piece to the old broken one. The fit was perfect. It now read, you are loved and so are they. The people looked. Some frowned, some smiled, some laughed, some cried. And they began to understand. Time passed and upon the beautiful land the trees climbed like ladders to the stars. The water shone like mirrors and the people saw their beauty. A breeze stirred and they heard its music. Tiny truths fell by day and night and the people found them and kept them in their hearts. And slowly as the people met other people different from themselves, they began to see themselves and far away on a hill in the very center of the world, old turtle smiled. Rise and body or spirit for our next hymn number 338. Any kids who are here with us may leave for classes. Please be seated. Our reading today from Elizabeth Gilbert. Long ago when I was in my insecure 20s, I met a clever independent, creative and powerful woman in her mid 70s who offered me a superb piece of life wisdom. She said, we all spend our 20s and 30s trying so hard to be perfect because we're so worried about what people will think of us. Then we get into our 40s and 50s and we finally start to be free because we decide that we don't really give a darn what anyone thinks of us. But you won't be completely free until you reach your 60s and 70s when you finally realize this liberating truth. Nobody was ever thinking about you anyhow. They aren't, they weren't, they never were. People are mostly just thinking about themselves. People don't have time to worry about what you're doing or how well you're doing it because they're all caught up in their own dramas. People's attention may be drawn to you for a moment if you succeed or fail spectacularly. But that attention will soon enough revert right back to where it's always been on themselves. While it may seem lonely and horrible at first to imagine that you aren't anyone else's first order of business, there is also a great release to be found in this idea. You are free because everyone is too busy fussing over themselves to worry all that much about you. Go be whomever you want to be. Go do whatever you want to do. Pursue whatever fascinates you and brings you to life. Create whatever you want to create and let it be stupendously imperfect because it's exceedingly likely that no one will even notice. And that is awesome. Thank you, Trevor. Hi, everybody. One of my favorite British comedies is called Keeping Up Appearances. It features Mrs. Hyacinth Bouquet, spelled B-U-C-K-E-T. But it is Bouquet, a feisty woman who lives to impress. And she has no patience for people who pretend to be superior because as she says, it makes it so much harder for those of us who really are. A shirt of her own eminence, she spends her days trying to make sure everyone else is aware of it as well. Her inferior sisters Rose and Daisy, along with Daisy's undershirt wearing beer drinking husband Anzlo, are a challenge. But she is always willing to talk about her rich sister Violet, who married the turf accountant and has a new Mercedes and a house big enough for a sauna and a pony. She wonders why her roses aren't as big as those next door and worries that the guests at her candlelight suppers will not be impressed. Episode after episode shows Hyacinth's determination to climb the social ladder in spite of her family's working class connections all to the constant chagrin of Richard, her long-suffering husband. I wonder sometimes at the appeal of this show and why I find it so hysterical. I watch it over and over and I crack up. Each time Hyacinth's snobbery leads her to ruin, whether it's being stuck in the back of a truck where she was hiding because she didn't want the important church ladies to know that she was waiting outside a pub, or if it's falling in a river after trying to host the vicar at an impressive waterside picnic with riparian entertainment. One reason I think it resonates so is that we live in a culture of comparison. We do it all the time. Someone drives their new car to work and suddenly our car that we loved a minute ago seems old, dented and tired. The people next door have a new living room set delivered and our house now needs a complete overhaul. And it isn't just things that we compare. We compare jobs, promotions, clothes, kids. We even compare ourselves against our own expectations and dreams and most of the time we find that we don't measure up. Paul Angoni, author of a book called 101 Secrets for Your 20s, calls comparison the smallpox of the millennial generation. He writes, what is obsessive comparison disorder, you ask? It's the new OCD. I've coined to describe our compulsion to constantly compare ourselves with others, producing unwanted thoughts and feelings that drive us into depression, consumption, anxiety and all around discontent. It encourages us to stay up late on Facebook, pouring through all 348 pictures of our friends. My life is better than yours album. And then it sends us to bed wondering why we suddenly feel so anxious. Obsessively comparing yourself to others, becoming more and more frustrated that your life doesn't look like theirs is the absolute most effective way to take your crisis to unhealthy eating raw cookie dough with a serving spoon levels. Like having to run outside to light up a cigarette, our comparison addiction is uncontrollable and it is killing us. I would add that this disorder isn't limited to any one generation and social media is not our only culprit. We live in a society in which we measure ourselves against other people who are measuring themselves against other people and there's no objective measure for how high is enough. We always need to stretch just a little more in the hopes of reaching the ever-changing goal. And what are we really hoping for in all of this? Contentment. We don't really want to live our lives day after day obsessively comparing ourselves to the achievements and the status of others. We want contentment to be content with who we are, what we have, where we are in our lives at this moment, to know that we belong, to know that we are enough exactly as we are. When comparison isn't involved, we are content. But once we start measuring our lives against others, against what we could have, against what we think we should have, what we have disappears from our sight and what we seem to lack take center stage. I will admit that I have had to stop watching HGTV when I am at the gym. At first it was great fun. Seeing all these shows with gorgeous renovation ideas, big beautiful kitchens, professionally designed living rooms that open right up onto the perfectly manicured lawn, kids' rooms that are organized and clean, and each decorating item in exactly the right place. But I had to stop. Not because the shows did anything wrong, but because the messages in my head got ugly. And I became overly critical of our less than beautiful home whose current decorating style I describe as fraternity house meets Toys R Us with a little petting zoo thrown in for good measure. It's not pretty. It's not shiny. It is not perfectly manicured in any way. But it's home. It's filled with two boys who love life, two parents who are trying really hard, and two dogs who appear to be some cross between a Labrador and a moose. It is not perfect, but it's home. Our chronic concern about how we measure up is surely not in our lives appreciating people or ourselves for their own unique qualities, our thoughts raised to assess whether our qualities are enough or maybe better than theirs. Andy Stanley, senior pastor at North Point Community Church, calls it living in the land of Ur. We are daily engaging, he says, in a lose, lose activity, and we may not even realize how destructive it is. Being rich or or smart or or funnier may feel like a short term win, but for ourselves, our families and our relationships, comparison is a game with no winners. Among other things, comparison has been famously described as the thief of joy, an act of violence against the self, and the surest route to breeding jealousy. Even Homer weighed in. Nothing shall I, while sane, compare with a friend. Can I be satisfied? Am I okay? Do I measure up? The answer is yes. Yes, we can be satisfied. Yes, we are okay. And yes, we do measure up just fine. The poet Martin Price wrote this piece titled, Comparing Yourself to Others. I find it staggering how often people compare themselves to others. People who, in my eyes, are already pretty fantastic. Looking at other pretty fantastic people and seeing all the types of fantastic that they are not, or at least are not yet. Sometimes I find myself daydreaming about corrective eye surgery, not because I am a corrective eye surgeon, but because too many people have warped vision that makes the fantastic in the people around them shine and blurs the fantastic in themselves. Of course, people are different. Some are really funny and some are really handsome. Some are really clever. Some are really friendly. Some are really lucky in that they tick multiple boxes. But I think the really lucky ones are the content ones that may not tick any box at all, but don't mind being average, because that's all anyone is in comparison to everyone else, because that's how averages work. I once heard a friend say that the only time you should compare yourself to another is to make sure that they have enough. But I put it in Google, and I can't find who said it. So either I should write down quotes more often, or my friends understand the world on a much deeper level, or I understand the world on a much deeper level, but I think it's the first one, and I need to write down quotes more often. You have to remember that if everyone compared themselves to others too much, then nobody would do anything, because they would all think somebody else could do it better or quicker. So nobody after Oscar Peterson would play the piano, nobody after Timothy Dalton would play James Bond, and nobody after Michael Johnson would run 400 meters, or the 200 meters, or the four by 400 meters apart from the other three people on his team. And that last line I think is crucial, apart from the other three people on his team. How do we move from a culture of comparison to a culture of contentment? We get there, I think, by creating a culture of compassion within community. But before we get there, we have to name a pervasive illusion that lives among us, and that is the illusion of perfection. All too often, our minds fool us into thinking that we can and in fact should be other than we are. Perfectionism is defined as the compulsive need to achieve and accomplish one's goals with no allowance for falling short of one's ideals. Yet we know that if we were perfect, we wouldn't be human. Warm breathing human life is constantly unfolding wonder, not a static state of flawless sameness. Being alive involves struggle and despair as well as glory and joy. To demand perfection is to turn our backs on real life and the full range of human experience. Why, when we know that there's no such thing as perfect, do most of us spend an incredible amount of time and energy trying to be everything to everyone? Ask the writer and researcher, Brene Brown. Is it really that we admire perfection? No. The truth is that we are actually drawn to people who are real and down to earth. We love authenticity and we know that life, everybody's life, is messy and imperfect. So if the perfect home and the perfect job and the perfect person are all illusion, what is the reality? The reality is that we are all in this together. We need to transform our relationships with one another and with ourselves, from comparison to compassion. And we do this by recognizing our inherent interconnectedness. According to the Centers for Disease Control, a sense of belonging and being connected is crucial to our mental health. Abraham Maslow, the American psychologist, argued that needs for individual growth and happiness cannot be met without first satisfying the basic need for human connection. Without bonds of love and affection with others, he said, we cannot go on to achieve our full potential as human beings. Similarly, the psychoanalyst Heinz Kohut proposed that belonging is a core need of the self. Belonging, he said, is the feeling of being human among humans, a feeling that allows us to be connected to one another. If we can compassionately remind ourselves in moments of falling down, that failure is part of the shared human experience, then that moment becomes one of togetherness, rather than isolation. When our troubled, painful experiences are framed by the recognition that countless others have undergone similar hardships, the blow is softened, the pain still hurts, but it doesn't become compounded by the feeling of separation. We need to call out and name the voices in our culture to tell us to notice how others are more, do more, have more, strive more than we do, and say enough. Enough with the comparison because we know we are enough. All of us are. Our connections with one another help us to move from comparison to contentment with compassion being key. We are groomed to believe that the best way to live is looking out for our own interest. But in reality, lasting satisfaction rarely accompanies that approach. What if instead of looking at others as a measure of our own value, we looked at them simply to appreciate and celebrate their successes? What if instead of racing against them, we viewed ourselves as racing alongside each of us trying to do our best? It's compassion. Life is satisfying when we celebrate and cry together, genuinely talking and opening ourselves to one another to the whole person. With all their beauty and all the broken places that we may never see, the person standing right in front of us. When you feel the obsessive comparison disorder welling up within you, you don't have to let it steal your joy. Try these words instead. I'm happy for you. When I say I'm happy for you, I'm realizing that your joy, your good fortune, is not about me. It's about you. And your joy, your new thing, your child's amazing achievement does not take away the reality that we are all in this together. And with compassion for myself and for all the other imperfect and messy beings that I share life with, I can realize that I am enough. I am content. I am okay. You are enough. You can be content. We are okay. So these last words come from a prayer written by my colleague, Mark Bellatini. Let's set it all down, you and me. The disappointments little in large, the frustrations. Let's open our fists and drop them. The useless waiting, the obsession with what we cannot have, the focus on foolish things, the pinwheeling worry which wears us out, the fretting. Let's throw them down. The comparisons of ourselves with others, the competition, as if domination was the best name we could give to the holy. The cynical assumptions, the unspoken shelved anger. Let's toss them. The inarticulate suspicions, the self-doubt, the preemptive self-hatred, the numbing bouts of self-pity. Sink them all like stones. Let's drop them like hot rocks into a cool pond. And when they're gone, let's lay back gently and float, float on the calm surface of enough. Let's be supported in the still cradle of the world, messy, imperfect, beautiful, and waiting for us. And I now invite you into the giving and receiving of today's offering. You can see in your order of service that it'll be shared with the Wisconsin Council on Children and Families. You can find out more about them in your order of service, and we thank you for your generosity. We join together each week, a community who gathers with joys and sorrows written on our hearts. We come together to find strength and common purpose, turning our minds and our hearts toward one another, and bring all into our hearts who need our love and concern. This week, as we join together in a moment of silence, may we hold in our hearts all of those joys and sorrows that live within us. Here in this place of peace, may we find hope. Here in this place of connection, may we find life-giving community. Here in this place of rest, may we let the unrest of our hearts turn us toward justice. Here in this space made sacred by memories of connection, may we each feel ourselves part of the new that grows from the old in the spiraling unity of our years. And now if you will rise in body or spirit for our closing hymn, which is number 151, as we take our leave before we gather again, may each of us bring happiness into the life of another. May we each be surprised by the gifts that surround us, and by the light, the goodness, and the love that flows from within us. May each of us be enlivened by constant curiosity, and may we remain together in spirit until we meet again. Blessed be, and go in peace, and please be seated for the postlude.