 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. My name is Karen Rose Gredler, and on behalf of the congregation, I want to extend a special welcome to visitors, both here in this room with us and those joining us on the radio or via our live stream. We are a welcoming congregation, so whoever you are and wherever you are on your life's journey, we celebrate your presence among us. This would be a great time to silence cell phones as we join together in a few moments of silence for contemplation, meditation, prayer, as we become fully present with ourselves and with one another. As we enter this time together, may we renew both our commitment and our covenant. There are those among us who have endured a loss during the past week. May their hope be uplifted again. There are those among us who have struggled with hardship. May they find renewed strength. There are those among us who have wrestled with questions that seem to have no answer. May they find sanctuary during this service. There are those among us who have cherished an unexpected joy. May their rejoicing be celebrated. As we commit to continue our free and responsible search for truth, may we covenant to honor the many paths that have led us here to this community of faith. And I invite you now to rise in all the ways we do, joining together in the words of affirmation in your order of service as we light our chalice. Love is the doctrine of our community. Our faith in each other is our sacrament. Fighting for justice and living with compassion is our prayer. Reverently we covenant together to answer the call of love, to heal and not to harm, and to share hope with each other and with the world. And our opening hymn is number 10010 in the Teal hymnal. We will sing the hymn two times. Oh, we give thanks for this precious day. And before you are seated, if you could take a moment to turn and greet those around you. It is good to be together this morning. Once a month we take time to be together as a multi-generational community to share our joys and sorrows. So if you arrived here today with a sorrow so heavy that you need the help of this community to carry it, or if you arrived with a joy so great that it simply must be shared, now is the time. The sharing of joys and sorrows is our chance to share with one another those special events or circumstances that affect our lives or the lives of those we love. We share our sorrows with one another today, knowing that sorrow comes into each person's life, knowing that together we offer comfort. And we also share our joys, knowing too that joy comes into all of our lives, knowing that together our voices can rise in a chorus of celebration. So for the next few moments, anyone who wishes is invited to step to the front, light a candle, use the microphone provided by our lay minister, Judy Troyer, and share with us your message. You may also come forward to wordlessly light a candle. Or if you are unable to come forward, just raise your hand and we'll bring the microphone to you and light a candle on your behalf. I now open the floor for joys and sorrows. Hello, my name is Dawn Reagan-Bogan, and I'm here to share a joy. Many of you know the last four years have been very difficult for my spouse, Jackie and I, lost a daughter in 2016, trying to get pregnant unsuccessfully in 2017, discovering my spouse, Jackie's breast cancer, and all of her treatment during 2018. And then as soon as she finished all of the year of treatment, her mother becoming ill and caretaking her for all of 2019 until she recently passed. There's a lot to hold, and this congregation has held us in that, and that is my joy. We could not have done it without you, we're so grateful for Kelly, the miracle that she is to this world. We are grateful for everyone of the lay ministers, particularly Roz, with the grief group and helping us with the memorial service that we had for Jackie's mother yesterday. They also connected us with our new friend Julie and Lois, who came to our aid when Jackie was going through a really intensive chemotherapy, and I needed help with the gardens, and they came, and we did not know them, and then we became friends because of that. It's such a miracle this congregation is. I also wanted to give back to this congregation, and that's why I'm wearing this particular name tag. It means that I'm on the transition team, and I were one year into that time, and I just wanted to say that Doug has led that masterfully, as far as I'm concerned, in being. And every member of where there's like eight or nine of us, I think on the transition team, work really well together. It's a model. I've never actually been part of a group where it was so functional. Everyone is completely competent and inclusive of each other, and just the environment is incredible, and so I just wanted you to know that, and I think there's a couple other transition team members here and Lorna's right there. So look for us with this name tag if you just want to connect and just say hi, and ask about how that process is going, or give us your comments. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, First Unitarian. And thank you to our friend, Arvin, who has come to visit from Seattle to help us through the grief of the memorial service yesterday with Jackie's mother. I'm Joyce. I have joy and sorrow. Philly died a year ago, and my grandson was married for the second time yesterday, forming a fabulous family with his new bride and their combined seven children. And I'm just really, really happy for them and wish them a lot of life of joy. Hi, I'm Kathy. My husband's singing over there at the nine o'clock services. I have to warn you. You have joys and sorrows, so get ready. My great joy that has filled my heart. My, we became grandparents for the first time. Caleb Gerald entered the world two days ago when he was so perfect. He's also named after my brother who died, and my daughter-in-law's mother, daughter-in-law's mother brother is named Gerald. He also died of cancer, so it's really special that he's Caleb Gerald. Thank you. I'm Marcia, and today's the day for Grandparent News. I have friends whose grandchildren are in college, and I had pretty much given up, but I'm going to be a grandma, so I'm so excited. My sorrow is my son and his wife live in Portland, Oregon now. My daughter lives in Richmond, Virginia, but I'm going to be flying a lot, so. My name is Jim. Today I'm feeling hopeful. My name is Marcy Bradley, and this is for my brother-in-law, who this past week was diagnosed with stage 4 lymphoma, not the good kind. And I like this candle for our Reverend Doug Watkins, who is in British Columbia today to deliver the eulogy for his dear friend and colleague, Ann, who passed away a month ago. And so we're sending him our love and our strength as he works through this difficult yet joy-filled task of celebrating a very special life. We light one last candle for the joys and sorrows that remain unspoken, held in the depths of our hearts. And together we sing. Hymn number 1012, when I am frightened, this is the hymn the children will go to the religious education classes on, and I invite all to rise in body and or spirit. In India, Mark Neppo tells us, there is a story about a kind, quiet man who would pray in the Ganges River every morning. One day after praying, he saw a poisonous spider struggling in the water and cupped his hands to carry it ashore. As he placed the spider on the ground, it stung him. Unknowingly, his prayers for the world diluted the poison. The next day, the same thing happened. On the third day, the kind man was knee-deep in the river, and sure enough there was the spider, legs frantic in the water. As the man went to lift the creature, yet again the spider said, Why do you keep lifting me? Can't you see I will sting you every time, because that is what I do? And the kind man cupped his hands about the spider, replying, because that is what I do. There are many reasons, he says, to be kind, but perhaps none is as compelling as the spiritual fact that it is what we do. It is how the inner organ of being keeps pumping. Spider sting, wolves howl, ants build small hills that no one sees, and human beings lift each other, no matter the consequence, even when other beings sting. Some say this makes us a sorry lot that never learns, but to me it holds the same beauty as berries breaking through ice and snow every spring. It is what quietly feeds the world. After all, the berries do not have any sense of purpose or charity. They are not altruistic or self-sacrificing. They simply grow to be delicious because that is what they do. As for us, if things fall, we will reach for them. If things break, we will try to put them together. If loved ones cry, we will try to soothe them. It is what we do. I have often reached out and sometimes it feels like a mistake. Sometimes like the quiet man lifting the spider, I have been stung. But it doesn't matter because that is what I do. This is what we do. It is the reaching out that is more important than the sting. In truth, I'd rather be fooled than not believe. While the choir gets themselves in place, I want to tell you a little bit about the experiment that we are engaging in this morning. There is an online video and music personality. He goes by the name Melody Sheep. It is just Melody Sheep. That sound isn't part of his name. His real name is John, but he has several series where he sets music to video and video to music, and one of those series is called Symphony of Science. For that series, what he does is he takes spoken word by science personalities, I guess, and takes their spoken word and runs it through a machine and turns the speaking into singing. I contacted him and I said, there is this video that you have on climate change, and soon after the climate strike, we would like to sing some choral parts, which I'll write to your music and video. Would that be okay? And he said yes. So he might even be watching from Oregon, I think. And so we are going to do that now for you. I really want to give a lot of appreciation and props to our social justice coordinator, Tim Corden, for being such a leader in the climate strike here in Madison. So thank you, Tim, wherever you are, and enjoy our biggest challenge. That's the name of the song. Many thanks to Drew in the Meeting House chorus. In a work called The Power of Kindness, Piero Farucci writes, there is an Afghan tale that tells of a ruthless king who commands and harasses his subjects, showing no care for them, regarding them as pawns without faces. One day while out hunting, he chases a gazelle on and on into unknown places until finally the gazelle disappears. Disappointed, the king unsure exactly where he is decides to return home. As he sets out, a dust storm blows up and lasts for three days. The king wanders in the terrible, blinding dust. When the storm passes, he is lost, alone in the desert, his clothes torn to shreds, his face unrecognizable, distorted by fear and fatigue. Along his journey, he meets some nomads. When he tells them he is the king, they laugh. Yet they help him give him food and tell him the way home. He returns to his palace, but his guards don't recognize him and won't let him in. From behind the gate, the king sees a substitute king, ruling as he did arrogant and mean-spirited. Bit by bit, the king learns to live in poverty. One day someone offers him water to drink, another offers food or shelter or work, and the king too helps others. He saves the life of a child in a house fire. He offers food to someone hungrier than he. He manages, but never without the help of others. He comes to see that in life, people must care for each other. He returns eventually to his palace and reigns wisely and kindly. He has learned an essential lesson of life. I am not the only one. Other people exist and are like me. We need one another to survive. Now, we do not need to spend days in a blinding desert dust storm to know that this interdependence is the reality of our lives. We know this to be true. As we heard in our reading from Mark Neppo, as for us, if things fall, we will reach for them. If things break, we will try to put them together. If loved ones cry, we will try to soothe them because this is what we do. In a recent book titled The War for Kindness, Building Empathy in a Fractured World, author Jamil Zaki says that the greatest evolutionary leap we humans have taken is in our development of empathy. That the kindness that is born from empathy, this being able to understand the emotions, thoughts, and worries of another, and the desire to ease their pain is one of the animal kingdom's most vital survival skills. In humans, he writes, empathy took an evolutionary quantum leap. At the dawn of our species, we huddled together in groups of a few families, and we were not a very impressive lot. We had neither sharp teeth nor wings nor the strength of our ape cousins. But over millennia, we sapiens changed to make connecting easier. Our testosterone levels dropped. Our faces softened. We became less aggressive. We developed larger eye whites than other primates so we could easily track one another's gaze and intricate facial muscles that allowed us to better express emotion. Our brains developed to give us a more precious understanding of each other's thoughts and feelings. Yet the researchers are telling us that over the past four decades, something is happening in the world of empathy and the news is not good. Empathy, they say, is dwindling steadily with the average person now 75% less empathic than the people of 1979. So it is no surprise then that civic leaders, poets, pastors are all calling for a return of empathy. There is a lot of talk in this country about the federal deficit. Senator Barack Obama said in a 2006 commencement speech, but I think we need to talk more about our empathy deficit. Obama went on to lament that we live in a culture that discourages empathy, a culture that too often tells us our principal goal in life is to be rich, thin, young, famous, safe and entertained. A culture where those in power too often encourage these selfish impulses. According to him, recovering empathy is critical to healing the nation. Modern society is built on human connection and our house is teetering. The philosopher Jeremy Rifkin put it in stark terms when he said the most important question facing humanity is this. Can we reach global empathy in time to avoid the collapse of civilization and save the planet? Empathy, Zachy tells us, is not a superpower bestowed upon some of us and not others. It is a regular old power like being strong, agile or good at puzzles. Some people may be predisposed to be stronger at it than others, but it is up to each of us to work that empathy muscle. The more we practice, the stronger we will be. It is in communities such as this in which we can practice, in which these empathy muscles can strengthen with each act of reaching out, of remembering that we're in this together, that we need each other to survive. James Villa Blake, a Unitarian minister in Chicago in the early 1800s, wrote these words familiar to many of us. Love is the spirit of this church and service is its law. This is our great covenant to dwell together in peace, to seek the truth in love, and to help each other. As Doug mentioned last week, covenants such as this hold our free thinking communities together. Our congregations descending from New England Puritans of the 1600s. Puritans like John Winthrop, first governor of Massachusetts, who addressed a group of Puritans sailing to New England in 1630 with these words. The only way to avoid shipwreck and to provide for our posterity is to delight in each other, to make others conditions our own, to rejoice together, mourn together, labor and suffer together, always having before our eyes our commission and community in the work as members of the same body. Our congregations are anchored in this free faith tradition of showing up, walking forward arm in arm, stronger in our faith than we could ever be alone. The Puritans said, we covenant to be in this life together, across our differences, across our disagreements. We are in this together. We will hold each other up. They were covenanting to practicing empathy in their life together, knowing it was key to their very survival. The great American poet Gwendolyn Brooks said it perfectly when she wrote, we are each other's business. We are each other's harvest. We are each other's magnitude and bond. The development of empathy has been an ongoing discussion in our home recently. As Dan is in his first year of a new job, being a school bus driver. Now, there are many joys in being a school bus driver, being the first and the last person to greet and say goodbye to kids each day, to help them start their day well and to help them be ready to transition back home in the afternoon. And there are difficulties as well. In his training on the first day, his supervisor said, you aren't just a driver, you know. You have to remember that you are part teacher, part police officer, and part therapist as well. One thing Dan has been trying to do is to learn something about each child who rides on his bus. This has been particularly important in developing relationships with those kids who struggle with the pesky behavioral norms of a school bus. Telling kids to stay in their seat a hundred times over. Reminding them of the rules in place again and again. Telling them what language isn't appropriate for the bus. It just wasn't working. But when he can learn something about a child, when he can try to see a little bit of what makes them tick on the inside, find out something they're interested in, something that they love, then he can make some headway. If he knows a child loves to sing or even that that child goes home at night to write song lyrics, then when that child is struggling, he can connect with him in that way, asking him to share a new song he wrote. He tries to see a little bit of who they are on the inside. Then he can find a way to support them and help them succeed, let them know that they're cared for, that they're interesting and complex, that they are much more than a behavior plan on a piece of paper. My colleague, the Reverend Amanda Popay, writes, I had no idea what to expect from my first trip to Disney World, but I left with many impressions, discomfort with the total commercialism, awe at the detailed work that they put into that park, and delight in the way that the people visiting Disney World are all in. No one is too cool or too world-weary to put on a pair of Mickey ears and sing along at the top of their voice to it is a small world after all. And wow, they were all in on those T-shirts too. It seemed every other person had a custom T-shirt declaring who they were. Disney Mom, celebrating Jaden's sixth birthday. He's my Mickey, I'm his mini. I felt as if I could look into someone's soul just by reading what was printed on their shirt. And isn't that what we all want? Well, not to have our innermost thoughts always printed on our shirts, but to be seen for who we are. I know how painful the opposite is, she continues, the hardest times in my life have been when I felt misunderstood, when someone has experienced me in a dramatically different way than I experienced myself. Sometimes there's important learning for me there. For instance, when I realize that my impact is more important than my intention. When learning like that happens, when through a relationship, through a conversation, through the trust of someone else, I was able to make the me on the outside match more closely how I feel on the inside. It's an opportunity to be even more deeply and truly known. The truth is we can't be summed up by a T-shirt, even a really cute one with Mickey ears. But it is indeed an impulse of the human self to be known fully by those we love. And that's almost never possible unless we're willing to risk the conversations that help us see past our initial impressions. We're so beautiful inside, so full of complexity and dichotomies and yearning. When we risk telling the world who we are and when we risk truly learning about each other, we offer a great gift. That's the beauty of communities such as ours. We can think of them as training centers. We are training ourselves in all those things that make us who we are and who we want to be. We are training in empathy, kindness, vulnerability, connection, risk, caring, compassion. One of our largest training centers is within our lay ministry program. Our lay ministers foster a sustaining sense of community through a ministry of care. They reach out to our members who are experiencing change, loss, illness. They also share in moments of celebration and happiness. They reach out to those who are new and they reach out to those who are missed. Mostly they listen. They listen to the stories of your lives. They discuss the complexities of this life we share. They spend time with those who are hurting or in pain. They share in situations that require human kindness and open hearts. It's a way that they're bringing more empathy into the world, remembering our connections, reminding us that we are not alone. If you are interested in lay ministry, either speaking with someone or seeing how you can get involved, I know that there are several of them, including Karen Rose and Judy and Roz and John and Tom. They're here. They'll be at the welcome table and they'd love to speak with you. So I'll leave you today with these words from Reverend Teresa Soto. There are a lot of ways to stay alive. You can wear soft clothes and focus on brushing your teeth and hydrating. You can ask yourself what you need and not be mad when you don't have an answer, only a shrug. You can breathe in and then with great care, you can also breathe out, taking this thing one single breath at a time. You can give yourself a chance, remembering not only your mistakes, but also all the ways that you matter. From eyelash to shoelace, you matter. You matter when you are sad, when the world is heavy like wet laundry dragging from your arms. You matter when you are angry and you use your teeth like welded prison bars to keep the words that might cause harm escaping your lips. There are many ways to stay alive. You can come heart-wrapped in several layers of foil mashed into a plastic box with an ill-fitting lid to a place where people say your name like it is good news. You can always fight your way toward freedom. I recommend that you decline the option of struggling by yourself. There was this wise ruler who said that by ourselves we are each unprotected but two people together can face the worst the failure, the heartbreak, the upending of the worlds we hold in our hearts and with three people, you being one of them you may find that eventually all will be well. Every week we take an offering during our worship service a community expression of thanks for the blessing of abundance to visibly bring in the harvest of our lives. Our offering says that the act of giving is as essential to our spiritual well-being as anything else we do here. Our outreach recipient this week is Planned Parenthood of Wisconsin. You can find out more about their good work in the red floors insert. Our offering will now be given and received in the spirit of grateful fellowship. In addition to your generous financial gifts we are grateful for the gifts our many volunteers give to make our services run smoothly. Today at this service on sound we have Mark Schultz. Our lay minister is Judy Troyer. Our greeters were Marine Muldoon and Jim Jagger. Our ushers are Dorit Bergen, Barb Avery, and John McGevna. Hospitality making coffee for us is Jeanne Hills and our hymn leader is Jennifer Yancey. I'd also like to remind you of our parish meeting which starts at 12.30 today and remind you that before that there is a lunch being served by our food haulers. So we hope you're able to join us. Thank you very much. And please rise in all the ways we do for our closing hymn number six. Be blessed by our connections to one another to the spirit of life. Walk lightly that you see the life that is below your feet. Spread your arms as if you had wings and could dance through the air. Feel the joy of the breath in your lungs and the fire in your heart. Live to love and be a blessing on this earth. We extinguish our chalice keeping its light and message of love and justice in our hearts taking it outside these walls to the world we live in until we are together again. Blessed be, go in peace and please be seated for the postlude.