 Welcome to First Unitarian Society. I'm Brian and I'm a member of FUS. I'm joined today by Drew Collins, Linda Warren, Heather Thorpe, Daniel Karnes, Stephen Gregorius, and the Preston family who will be leading us in our chalice lighting. We're blessed this morning to have three other people in the FUS community join me in sharing today's reflection. Jake Blaschik, Hannah Lee, and Reverend Roger Birchhausen. Our theme is this we believe. Each of us will share about our beliefs. Because we don't have a creed, every Unitarian Universalist has a unique system of beliefs. Because we don't believe in one truth once and forever, we also know that each Unitarian Universalists beliefs change as they go through their lives. So years from now or maybe even a day from now, please don't hold us to any of the specific beliefs that we share today. We're also so glad to have you join us this morning, though we're not together here in our beloved meeting house. We remain tied together through the bonds of community and affection. At FUS we gather to grow our souls, to connect with one another, and to embody our UU values in our lives, our community, and our world. We warmly invite you today to join in the virtual coffee hour immediately following today's service. The information for that will be on your screen again after the postlude. We also have a special announcement today about our Children's Religious Exploration Program. Hi, my name is Tamara Broniano and I've taught in the Children's Religious Exploration Program here at FUS for more years than I can count. I'll cut straight to it. We need you to teach in the CRE program this year. So why should you join me in teaching a CRE class this year? Well, I can tell you why I teach. Number one, I learned things. I wasn't raised a Unitarian Universalist, but I've adopted UUism as my spiritual home as an adult. And as I've taught CRE classes over the years, I've gotten to learn about the UU faith and lots of other fascinating stuff along with the kids that I've been leading in those same lessons. Number two, I get to give back to FUS. I'm not someone who's ever going to be able to cut a really big check, but I'm able to give my time and my effort to the kids in our congregation, part of being a good citizen of this community. Number three, I make friends. When you teach in CRE, you're teaching with a team of teachers, and I've made many friendships from those team teaching experiences. And a congregation as large as FUS, sometimes it can be difficult to forge those personal connections that we all hunger for. Teaching is a great way to start. Number four, I learn and grow from my interactions with my fellow teachers and from the kids too. I could rattle off a bunch of anecdotes about little moments from CRE that have changed my life in small ways, and I bet many other teachers could too. So, step up. Teaching is fun, and it's very doable for any of us, even folks like me who don't consider ourselves to be teachers. The lesson plans are clear and easy to execute, and you've got a team of teachers and the great CRE staff to help out when you need it. Please join me in spending two Sundays a month with our amazing FUS kids. Thanks. I invite you now to take a few deep breaths, to be present here together, to bring ourselves fully into this time we share. Today's opening words are from Marine Caloran. In this free church, we come together without creed, focusing instead on the core values of justice, equity, and compassion, of mutual acceptance of our diverse ways of being, as we seek to connect ourselves more fully with the unfolding truths of life and of our world. We come together in a shared conviction that all people deserve a voice in matters that concern them, and that it is up to each of us to protect the rights of all, particularly those who, for whatever reason, have long been held in silence. We come together in the stubborn belief that community is possible, and that peace is more than a dream. We commit together to affirm in our actions, as well as our words, the inherent worth and dignity of every human being. We come together in awareness of our interdependence with all humanity, and with the wider web of existence, for that too is part of what is meant by we. In this free church, we come together without creed, believing that the way we live in the world bears testament to the value of our beliefs. I invite you to light a chalice or a candle in your home, as the Preston family shares words of affirmation. You who feel your heart is breaking, come in. You who are confused and wondering, come in. You who are angry or in pain, come in. You who are hopeful and energized, come in. Come into this community of hearts where you have been held in love and in comfort, where you have shared your joy and spirit, where you have asked questions because you felt they needed asking, where you found friendship and passions, where you have sometimes not greeted and sometimes not feel comforted and sometimes not felt hurt. Bring your broken heart and your grief, share them. Bring your confusion and your questions, share them. Bring your anger and your pain, share them. Bring your hope and your energy, share them. For here in this place, we can be together. We can gather in all conflicting emotions, tumbling around in our heads and hearts. We bring them together and lay them on the altar of community. For community means, for community means the fragile, non-perfect human being can come together in the name of peace and seek to find peace again. Number 347. All kinds of beliefs by Anita Ghaneri. There are all kinds of beliefs. My family's religion is Islam. We are Muslims. We are Buddhists. We are Christians. We are Hindus. Many people have religious beliefs but not all do. Children may learn their beliefs from their parents or from teachers at their school or place of worship. My family's religion is Judaism. We are Jews. My family does not follow a religion. We are Sikhs. People's beliefs guide how they live and behave toward others. Be kind to other people. Respect your elders. Treat everyone as equal. Being part of a religion and having a faith is very important for many people. I feel safe and happy. I feel that I belong. I like being shown a good way to live. Many people believe there is a God who made everything in the world. They try to live their lives as God wants them to. In Islam, we call God Allah. Christians believe that God sent his son Jesus to earth to save people. A religion may have many gods or no God. Buddhists don't have a God. We follow the teachings of the Buddha who lived thousands of years ago. Hindus believe in a great spirit called Brahman. There are also many gods and goddesses. Some people say prayers as a way of talking to God. They may thank God, ask for help, or tell God how they are feeling. Some Muslims pray five times every day. I am a Christian. I say my prayers before I go to sleep. I'm going to try that page one more time. I can get it. Page 10. Yeah, top of page 10. Some people say prayers as a way of talking to God. They may thank God, ask for help, or tell God how they are feeling. Some Muslims pray five times every day. I am a Christian. I say my prayers every night before I go to sleep. Prayers help Hindus speak and listen to God. Jewish people say a blessing before meals to ask God to bless our food. People's beliefs can affect how and what they eat. Many Hindus do not eat meat because they believe all life is holy. For Hindus, the cow is a special animal because it gives milk. A gurdwara is a Sikh place of worship. A vegetarian meal called langur is served after worship for everyone to share. We believe that sharing food shows that everyone is equal in God's eyes. Jewish people avoid eating some foods such as pork as part of their religion. We don't eat shellfish either. Some people wear special clothing to show their religion. Jewish men and boys wear a small cap called a kippah as a constant reminder of God. I wear a prayer shawl when I pray. Sikhs have five signs of their faith called the five K's. One is cash, uncut hair. We don't cut our hair because we don't want to change what God made perfect. I wear a headscarf as part of my Muslim faith. Many religions have special books that are holy to them. We are learning to read the Quran. Muslims believe the Quran is the word of Allah. They treat this holy book with great respect. The Christian holy book is the Bible. Part of it tells the story of Jesus's life. At Christmas, we listen to the story of Jesus's birth. My mom reads me a story about Rama and Sita at bedtime. Hindus have many different holy books. The Ramayana tells story about the God Rama and his wife. Religions have special places where people go to meet and worship. We have a service with hymns, prayers, and Bible readings. Christians worship in a church. Muslims worship at a mosque. We hear the call to prayer from a tall tower called a minaret. This is the ark where the Torah scrolls are kept. The Torah is our holy book. The Torah is our holy book. Jews worship at a synagogue. Many Hindus worship at a mandir or temple. They believe it is God's home on earth. We take our shoes off when we go in to show respect. Inside a Sikh gurdwara is a copy of the Guru Granth Sahib. The Guru Granth Sahib is our holy book. We keep the Guru Granth Sahib covered when we are not reading it. In a vahara, Buddhists make offerings to the Buddha. We bow and offer flowers, candles, and incense. Many people also worship at home. In most Hindu homes, there is a statue or picture of one or more of the Gods. We worship in our prayer room every day. Shabbat is a day of rest and prayer for Jews. It begins on Friday night with a special family meal. I like lighting the Shabbat candles. Festivals are times when people come together to celebrate. Many festivals remember special events in a religion's history. At Christmas, Christians celebrate the birth of Jesus. I love setting up the nativity scene. They have special services in church, sing carols, give presents, and eat delicious food. Eid al-Fitr is a special time for Muslims. It marks the end of Ramadan. This is a month when Muslims fast during the day. At Eid, we wish each other Eid Mubarak, which means happy Eid. There are all kinds of special times in people's everyday lives. When a baby is born, a Muslim father whispers a prayer in his baby's ear. Something sweet, such as date juice, is put on the baby's tongue for a sweet and happy life. In some Buddhist countries, boys become monks for a few months. Monks live simple lives and do acts of charity. In a ceremony, the boys' heads are shaved as they wear robes. At a Sikh wedding, a hymn is sung as the couple walk around the Guru Granth Sahib. People who do not follow a religion often share some of the same beliefs as religious people. They believe in being kind, helping others, and treating people as they would like to be treated. Everyone believes in something. So, what do you believe? I invite you into this time of giving and receiving, where we give freely and generously to this offering which sustains and strengthens First Unitarian Society and our work in the world. You'll see on your screen that you can donate directly from our website, fussmattison.org. You'll also see our text to give information there as well. We thank you for your generosity and your faith in this life we create together. Years ago, I was an elder to a young man who was going through the Coming of Age program. I met with him several times as he struggled to write his belief statement. He kept losing what he said were drafts. I never did see a final. Nevertheless, he got up in front of the congregation and as they say, knocked the ball out of the park. After receiving Roger's invitation, I, too, was hesitant and went through several drafts before settling on what I'm about to say. I began with a two-part belief. A life is a flow of joys and sorrows. And the second part, peace and contentment is possible. The Buddha is reported to say that life is filled with joys and sorrows. He uses the term 10,000 as a symbol of innumerable joys and sorrows flow through my life. In the midst of this flow, I find peace and contentment through such practices as gratitude, mindfulness, and meditation. Second and closely related to what I have already said is that life is impermanent. Life is transitory and is in constant flux. And as Philip Moffat in his book Dancing with Life states, we never know when our experiences and our states of mind will change. Living with impermanence calls for patience, courage, self-compassion, and what Tara brought from the Insight Meditation Community of Washington, D.C., calls radical acceptance. A third belief is that I'm responsible to take care of those who are in the corner of my universe, a phrase used by my good friend and FUS member Dave Cresswell. I do actions and take them unwillingly that hopefully benefit individuals who are in my corner. In my corner are neighbors who help out in prospect gardens, friends and family members, especially Anne, my wife, and Emily, my daughter. FUS is definitely in that corner and especially those members of my chalice group. Members of several Buddhist groups that I meet with are also in that corner. And then there is Chris, a homeless vendor who sells the newspaper Street Pulse in front of Trader Joe's. I frequently get the paper, make an offering, and chat with Chris. Sometimes Chris gives a picture he has taken. He likes taking pictures of the lake. Reflecting one of our UU principles is the belief that our lives are embedded in an interdependent web of existence. In short, we are closely related and interconnected and dependent upon each other. Or as Tit Nahum uses the term, interbeing, and he refers to a biologist, Louis Thomas, to talk about interbeing. Thomas says and believes that the whole planet is one giant living breathing cell with all its working parts linked. As I age this in this breathing cell of a planet, I appreciate the value of not knowing what you could consider a belief. Many times in life we just don't know. Admitting that we don't know has some benefits. It increases attentive listening, not knowing allows space for new insights to emerge and can lead to changes in beliefs. So these are some of my beliefs. Thank you for this opportunity to share. May you be showered with loving kindness as today unfolds. Good morning. My name is Hannah Lee. I'm here to tell you about my spiritual beliefs, but the problem I'm having is that I don't think I've myself as having any. Because having beliefs makes me feel trapped and I fear becoming identified with those beliefs and labeled and the reality of myself disappears into a box and anything not congruent with the belief is going to get ignored or rejected and my real living self might disappear and I would stop growing and my soul would die and that's the panic that I feel when I think about having beliefs. For the first part of my life I was forced into belief in a Southern Baptist God who didn't like me very much or anyone else for that matter. There were strict rules, mostly having to do with ways in which one could or could not enjoy oneself or one's life and severe punishment, sometimes physical for breaking the rules. I was adopted into a family of people in their 60s in the earliest infancy, people who didn't even pretend to enjoy having to raise a young child after already launching their four adult children. Their eldest who lived with them was a daughter in her 40s, a registered nurse who later retired to take care of her parents in their last years. This sister was 38 years older than I. Every effort was made to keep me from knowing that this daughter had given birth to me out of wedlock bringing social stigma and the wrath of God down upon the family. In my mid teens I was able to escape by running away to an aunt who was also considered something of a black sheep in this family. I was befriended by a librarian in the small two-year college in my town who invited me to attend the local Unitarian Fellowship where her family were members. This was in 1960, some of you may remember 1960. There were about 30 members in this group and they met in a windowless rented room in the Chamber of Commerce building, a cinderblock building in downtown Baytown, Texas for their Sunday services. The room actually reminded me of a room in a TV show that was popular then called I Led Three Lives in which an American double agent named Herbert A. Phil Brick met with his communist cell, a blank secret sort of hidden place. And attending these Unitarian meetings seemed furtive and secretive too. I'm sure in a way they were in that time and place. I heard some remarkable speakers there in addition to the members. There was a British Theosophist named Ernest Wood who'd been a civil servant in India during the Raj and had been fed ground glass and food served him by a ma, Raja, who hated the British. He had not been able to have solid food in nearly 20 years and he had known Jay Krishnamurti as a boy. Another remarkable speaker was the young Barbara Jordan who was beginning her first campaign for the Texas House of Representatives. So I was exposed to a whole new world and encouraged to leave behind the fear of God that was so embedded in my very cells. One important thing, very important thing I learned from these lovely people was simple social skills. These folks invited me to dinner in their homes, gave me a glass of wine, modeled interesting and polite conversation. I'd never experienced that and to their credit though my family had sent me, really they did, to Mrs. Tyree's School of Speech Arts and Physical Culture where Ms. Tyree taught little girls how to set a proper table, how to recite a poem in public and how to walk across a room with a book on my head. She gave recitals and luncheons for the little girls that she taught so that we could practice in vivo all dressed up in our little white, organ-y dresses and black patent leather shoes. Oh, my family were trying to make a perfect 19th century lady out of me. It was an advantage that they had not had. I did well in school. It was the one area where I could succeed and get some recognition. The reaction at home to that was to ignore it. Intellectual activity was a sign of lack of faith and so was considered dangerous. I graduated early from high school, got scholarships, went to college. After my freshman year, I married a fellow Baptist refugee and we finished college together in graduate school. He got a teaching job at UW-Stevens Point and we came to Wisconsin. It wasn't until I was married and had two children of my own that I learned that my sister was in fact my mother. She finally told me, expecting that I would of course do my duty and move back to Texas and take care of her in our old age because that's what daughters did. She had done it for her parents and she knew that once I got it, I would comply. The sheer naivete, not to mention the manipulativeness of this revelation, began a spiral for me into deep depression that lasted for some years. If anyone noticed, I think I would have been institutionalized but that didn't happen because by that time I was already a hippie living on a commune that had been an Amish farm in central Wisconsin with no running water and no electricity and a different husband and two small children. I was barely functional. I was descending deeply into what now seems to be a severe mental illness. Psychotherapy was not then what it is now. I tried two therapists, one who wanted to cure me in 10 sessions using behavior modification and the other who made sexual advances. Things only started improving when I came to Madison and got back into graduate school, a comforting environment and got another master's degree, found work I liked, things got better, then they got worse, then they got better and life went on. And now we interrupt this program to bring you a break from what is sounding more and more like relentless, boring misery and that would be a false impression. I've had good friends and laughed and learned to be present, given and received love, help and affection. Without that I would not have survived and so I go around filled with gratitude. It was in fact friends who introduced me to the most influential and helpful writings I've encountered, which have been those of C. G. Young and T. S. Elliott. I have said somewhat facetiously that I think Elliott's four quartets contains the distilled essence of Western wisdom, but secretly I think that is the case. It's given me what I needed most over and over and still does. I use it as a collection of mantras and it never fails. Here are just a few examples, although taking them out of context does them an injustice. I'll just open the book at random. It doesn't matter where. This one is from burnt Norton. The first of the quartets stands a two. At the still point of the turning world, neither flesh nor fleshless, neither from nor towards. At the still point there the dance is, but neither arrest nor movement and do not call it fixity where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards, neither ascent nor decline, except for the point, the still point. There would be no dance and there is only the dance. And this from East Coker stands a three. I said to my soul, be still and wait without hope, for hope would be hope for the wrong thing. Wait without love, for love would be love of the wrong thing. There is yet faith, but the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting. Wait without thought, for you're not ready for thought. So the darkness shall be the light and the stillness the dancing. And finally, from East Coker stands a five. For us there is only the trying. The rest is not our business. So the Unitarians in Baytown, Texas gave me permission to learn what I needed to survive what lay ahead. Over the years, FUS has given me the warmth and acceptance to at last come to rest in compassion and forgiveness for those who never meant to harm me but did. In my twilight years, I'm finally someone who can live acceptably with myself and so can others. I've learned how not to take my own life so personally, a great relief. I'm available for service. I'm glad to give it. It's taken a long time and it would have been nice not to have been such a late bloomer, but it does make a good story. I'm going to share what I believe as a recipe. The first ingredient is one cup of agnosticism. An agnostic maintains uncertainty about God's existence. Ultimately, I am uncertain about God's existence. There might be a God, there might not be. I don't know for sure. I expect I'll never actually know for sure. Next, I add one cup of equal parts, Ralph Waldo Emerson's Oversoul and the Hindu view of God. Emerson, who so consistently celebrated the uniqueness and the individuality of each person, paradoxically also believed that at the deepest level of each individual soul, there is a unity. This unity is within all of us and everything in nature. It is exactly the same in each of us. Emerson often called this unity the Oversoul. Sometimes he called it God. This central belief of Emerson reveals the great extent of Hinduism's influence on him. He drank deeply at the spiritual well of the Bhagavad Gita and other significant Hindu texts. In Hinduism, God is everywhere, embodying in stones and statues and trees, rivers and mountains and animals and people. There are millions and millions of gods and goddesses in the Hindu pantheon. Each one is unique. And at the same time, there paradoxically is only one God, the great God, Brahmin in whom everything on the earth and in the heavens is included. This is the seed of the idea in Emerson's Oversoul. Then I add half a cup of processed theology to my recipe. Like Emerson and the Hindus, processed theologians believe that God is in the midst of life with us. God is not somewhere distant or ethereal. Processed theologians believe that God is especially with us when we are suffering. With the Buddhists, they believe that suffering is inevitable in our lives. Experiencing it is part of being human. Since God is neither all knowing nor all powerful, our suffering cannot be caused by God, nor can it be prevented by God. Rather, our suffering is caused by bad luck or bad choices or a combination of those two. And though God does not cause suffering, God is there with us when we suffer. The God with us when we suffer comes in many different forms. For example, as a quiet serenity within our souls even in the worst moments, or as the outstretched helping hand of another person. Next, I add one teaspoon of liberation theology, though the ingredient represents a small volume in my recipe. It has a big impact because it is the leavening agent. It's the yeast or baking powder in the recipe. It's the ingredient that makes my recipe come alive. The most important thing about liberation theology, whether it's black or feminist or gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender theology just to name a few, is that it always puts justice at the center. Liberation theology breaks down the walls of denial that I have built up and shows me where my words and actions have contributed are contributing to injustice. It demands that I clean up my act and that I join voices and hands with others to fight injustice. Liberation theology asks me to be courageous and to take risks for justice. My recipe next calls for one tablespoon of the Star Wars Force. Hey, I wasn't a young team when Star Wars came out for nothing. There's no way it wouldn't seep in. Now, I don't believe the Force can help me levitate spacecraft or fight with a lightsaber, but I do partly envision God as the Force. In the first Star Wars movie that came out, Obi-Wan Kenobi defines the Force as an energy field created by all things that surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together. The Star Wars notion of the Force is a striking contemporary mythical depiction of Emerson's over soul and the Hindu deity Brahman. Finally, for good measure, I add a quarter teaspoon each of forgiveness, gratitude, joy, and humor. Life is a lot less meaningful and fun without these things. These ingredients lift up how important these four spiritual practices are. So to recap, here's the directions for this recipe for my beliefs. Combine Emerson's over soul and the Hindu view of God in a small bowl and mix. Combine all the ingredients, including this over soul, Hindu mixture together in a large bowl and mix. Spread batter evenly into a container, namely me. Bake it in oven preheated to 98.6 degrees for 58 years, seven months, in two days. Let cool and enjoy. I believe in remembering that I will die. First, I want to make it abundantly clear I'm very excited to be alive, experiencing sound, light, taste, connecting with other people, learning new things, making choices. I think that being alive and conscious is an absolute miracle. I also know that this life and this consciousness, at least in the way that we understand it, it doesn't last forever. And I think there's a strong possibility that this is the only life I've got, that I'm here for a limited amount of time. And this is at the center of my spirituality. I want to make the most of that time. So there's this urgency that comes from remembering my own mortality, an urgency to reach out to other people today, not tomorrow. An urgency to marvel at the night sky, a piece of music or a really good slice of pie. An urgency also to really think about what do I most care about and how can I take the time that I've got and devote it to those things. I find this an incredibly useful guide to living my own life. One example for me is reading books. If you just ask me what do I think about reading, I'd say I'm really passionate about it. Books are fun. They teach you how to empathize with other people. They expose you to new perspectives. And that is a lot of talk. In reality, I'm a pretty slow reader. It can be hard sometimes to get going on a new book when I know it's going to take up a bunch of my time. There are so many other things I could be doing. But when I step back and when I ask myself that question, what do I most care about? I remember, you know, this is something that I do want to spend my time on. So I'm in a book club that holds me accountable to finishing books. And if I ever find myself too busy to read, then I will reorganize my schedule so that I do have time for it. Another example of where my spirituality shows up in my life is in how I relate to other people. Their lives are just as miraculous as mine. And I believe just as finite as mine. They're also urgently trying to establish good relationships with other people and to live in awe of the world around them. And I want to help people be able to do that. It's why I work in healthcare. It's why I support organizations that lift up other people. It's because right now we're all here together. We're sharing the same space, sharing the same time. We aren't always going to be here together. But we are now. And again, I want to make the most of that. I was raised in the Catholic tradition, and some of my beliefs have changed since then. But one story that's still important to me is when Jesus shares a meal with his friends before he dies. He offers them a cup and he says, this is my blood, which is shed for you. And he also says, do this in remembrance of me. My interpretation of that is, I dedicated my life to you. I want you to remember that and go out there and dedicate your lives to other people. Jesus knew that he was going to die. So he was really intentional about spending his time on the things that were important to him, helping other people. And it was also important to him in his last moments to share a meal with his friends. Knowing that I'm going to die helps me center my life around the things that are most important to me. It is worth admitting that I don't actually know what's going to happen when I die. I do have a favorite answer to that question, though. You might have seen this on the Late Show in 2019. Stephen Colbera was interviewing Keanu Reeves. Stephen asked, what do you think happens when we die, Keanu Reeves? And Keanu paused to think and he said, I know that the ones who love us will miss us. One last thing I'd like to share is there are a couple symbols here at FUS that help remind me of the importance of remembering death. And not just my own death, but the deaths of other people, too. We often light candles to share our joys and sorrows and sometimes we will light a candle in memory of someone we love. We can't see that person, but we can see their flame and we can remember their life. We also often light the chalice and people interpret the flaming chalice in a lot of different ways. For me, the light is a reminder of those people who have shared their life with us. And the cup is a reminder to share my life with other people. Not tomorrow, but today. I invite you now to join in a few moments of silent meditation and prayer. During this time, I invite you to contemplate in particular the joys and concerns on your heart and mind today. Amen and blessed be. Today's closing words are from Michael Shuler, our minister emeritus here at FUS. Cherish your doubts. For doubt is the servant of truth. Question your convictions. For beliefs too tightly held strangle the mind in its natural wisdom. Suspect all certitudes. For the world whirls on, nothing abides. Yet in our inner rooms full of doubt, inquiry and suspicion, let a corner be reserved for trust. For without trust, there is no space for communities to gather or for friendships to be forged. Indeed, this is the small corner where we connect and reconnect with each other.