 Welcome to the First Unitarian Society. My name is Emily Smith, and I am a member here. Today's service will be led by three members of the 20s and 30s group, Aaron Haas, Brian Rainey, and myself. The service was inspired by discussions we had over the last year with the rest of the 20s, 30s group. We are joined by the worship team of Reverend Kelly, Aspreith Jackson, Linda Warren, Drew Collins, Daniel Carnes, and Stephen Gregorius. And a special thanks to the members of our Chime Choir. Thank you for your beautiful music. At First Unitarian Society, we question boldly, listen humbly, grow spiritually, act courageously, and love unapologetically. If you are visiting us today, welcome. We are so very glad you are here. If you would like more information about First Unitarian Society, please stop by the welcome table located in the Commons. We hope you will be able to stay and join us for coffee hour, immediately after service, also held in the Commons. For those of you joining us virtually, welcome to you as well. We are so glad you are joining us. We hope you will take a moment to watch the announcement slides shown immediately after today's service to learn more about our upcoming programs and activities. Today's service will include a special ritual, for which you will need both a piece of paper and something to write with. Hopefully, many of you received each of these items on your way into the service today. But if you need one or both of them, please raise your hand now. Excellent, thank you. And the ushers can help bring those items to you. So keep the hands up, and we'll get the ushers coming around. Speaking of the ushers, there are many important volunteer roles that go into making a successful and welcoming service each weekend here at FUS. Greeters to welcome people in, ushers to assist them while they're here, and volunteers to make and serve the all important coffee. While individuals and families are always invited to volunteer for any of these roles, we've recently begun to encourage ministry teams, committees, and other specific groups of FUS folks to adopt a service and take up this work together as a fun way to contribute to the life we create together. Special thanks, therefore, to the friends of the Meeting House Board for adopting today's service. The Friends of the Meeting House is a 501C3 organization whose membership is open both to members of this congregation and those of the larger community. Their purpose is to support the preservation of our landmark Frank Lloyd Wright Meeting House and share this architectural heirloom with others through guided tours and other educational opportunities. If you would like to know more about the group, or might be interested in joining, or would like to learn more about the relationship between our spirituality and our building, today is a wonderful opportunity to talk to some of them after the service. And now, I invite you to join me in a moment of silence to center ourselves and bring ourselves fully into this time as we join together once again in community. It is not by chance that you arrived here today. You have been looking for something larger than yourself. Inside of you, there is a yearning, a calling, a hope for more, a desire for a place of belonging and caring. Through your struggles, someone nurtured you into being, instilling a belief in a shared purpose, a common yet precious resource that belongs to all of us when we share. And so you began seeking a beloved community, a people that does not put fences around love, a community that holds its arms open to possibilities of love, a heart home to nourish your soul and share your gifts. Welcome home, welcome to worship. I invite you now to rise in all the ways that we do for the words of our chalice lighting. As surely as we belong to the universe, we belong together. We join here to transcend the isolated self, to reconnect, to know ourselves, the eternal, under the stars, linked. Join us for our opening hymn, number 188 in the gray hymnal. This hymn has an ostinato, a repeated melodic and harmonic pattern that Kelly will demonstrate for you. And on the second time we sing this hymn, you are welcome to sing the ostinato instead of the melody. Removed from the original version of the poem, turned into the hymn. So puts it back here, it goes like this. Though you've broken your vows 10,000 times. Like that, over and over again. Who would like to, to join me at the front for a story? Hi everyone, I'm Emily and this is Brian and we're going to read you a story today. So our service today is about belonging. And sometimes in order to belong to a group, people tell us that we have to behave in a certain way. So for example, if an animal is going to belong to the group called cats, we might say that animal has to say meow. It says cow, okay, so here's my question. What are some other ways we might expect an animal to behave in order to be considered a cat? Clio, because it's on your name tag. I'm very sneaky. Okay, so in order to be a goat, maybe you have to have a beard. That's a good idea, a fake beard. All right, so some goats might have fake beard, some goats might have real ones. This is an interesting idea. Yeah, I'm getting that impression that we have some plants in the audience who know the story. All right, so here's my question. How do cats typically feel about water? Do they usually like water? We have mixed responses. I see, all right, so we've heard some stories about cats that swim, but we also have the sense that perhaps usually they do not. Our story today, it could be harder to move around when your fur is wet. Our story today is about a cat named Jet, and we're going to see what she thinks about water. Jet is a cat, just like any other cat. She loves to pounce, she loves to sprawl, and of course, she loves to swim. She loves to swim all day until the sun goes down, and even a little bit longer, just like any other cat. Actually, real cats can't stand water. We can't, asks Jet. We can't, says Tom the cat. You are not a cat. You are a frog. Huh, says Jet. And with a shrug, she dives back in. Jet is a frog, just like any other frog. She loves to swim, she loves to eat bugs, and of course, she sings in a high voice, just like any other frog. Well, to be honest, even our tiniest tadpoles sing low. Really, truly, asks Jet. Truly, really, says bold a frog. You are not a frog. You are a bird. Weird, says Jet, and with a sigh, she climbs on up. Jet is a bird, just like any other bird. She loves to eat bugs, she loves to sing high, and of course, when she jumps from a tree, she falls flat on the ground, just like any other bird. Well, technically, flying is kind of what we do best. That's not true, says Jet. Oh, it's true, says Blue the Bird. You are not a bird. You are a goat. Harumph, says Jet, and with a grunt, she trots off. Jet is a goat, just like any other goat. Totally flightless, check. Born to prance, you know it. And of course, she's completely beard-free, just like any other goat. Sorry, ma'am, a goat is not a goat without a fine, long beard. No way, says Jet. Oh, way, says Bill the Goat. You are not a goat. You are a pig? No, maybe a mole, a skunk or a skink, a platypus, a sunbear, a goblin shark, a pink fairy armadillo, or maybe, maybe you're a friendly school librarian. I can't do this anymore, whales, Jet. Jet goes home for a nice, long swim. She feels like herself again. Now she has something to say to all those creatures still arguing about what she can or cannot be. Listen up, says Jet. I am a cat, unlike any other cat. But I'm still a cat and a great cat at that. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to work on my backstroke. But as she turns to go, we have all these animals who have some secrets of their own. The goat says, my beard is fake. And the cat says, my best friend is a mouse. The mouse doesn't care for cheese. The frog sings soprano. And the bird is more of a runner. Well, grins Jet the Cat, what's wrong with that? Then they all swim, run, sing, explore, and play around until the sun goes down, and even a little bit after. We have a question about the story? Yeah, the goat says his beard is fake. That was his secret all along. We will now sing our children to their classes. Thank you for joining me for the story today. You can turn the day from to share your gifts and sprang. My name is Erin. The words in our opening hymn today come from 13th century poet and Islamic scholar Rumi. He invites us to come, though we've broken our vows a thousand times. When I first heard this line recently, I felt an immediate sense of belonging. I hope it doesn't come as a surprise to any of you, but as human beings, we're not perfect. We make mistakes. We overcommit ourselves. We falter and fall short. That does not make others in our community unworthy of belonging, and it does not make you unworthy of belonging in this community. Though you've broken your vows a thousand times, come. After my initial sense of belonging when I heard that, the pesky negative voice in my head is charmed in with Erin. You've probably broken your vows at least 10,000 times. So this doesn't really apply to you, and it's selfish to keep letting other people down. Inherent in that negative talk is the assumption that desire to belong is a selfish or self-serving one. I know that I'm not alone in feeling like I've let others down or acted in ways that go against my morals. Increasingly, psychologists and spiritual leaders are recognizing that many of us are struggling with moral injury. Moral injury is the damage done to one's conscious or moral compass when that person perpetrates, witnesses, or fails to prevent acts that transgress one's own morals, beliefs, values, or ethical codes of conduct. Moral injury is most commonly discussed in regards to members of the military, but there's also recent recognition that many medical professionals are suffering from moral injury. They've had to make difficult decisions during the pandemic. Some even suggest that there's widespread moral injury in Western nations as a result of the climate crisis and how it may not always be feasible in our society to act in a way that reduces our carbon footprint. Moral injury can look a lot like burnout. It can lead to guilt and shame that is debilitating. The loss of hope that people facing moral injury can feel can cause them to stop trying to make the world a better place. Many experts say that community is an important part of the healing process from moral injury. Communities allow us to confront our shame and our shortcomings and to find meaning from our experiences. To do that deep work, to expose the parts of us that we are not proud of, it requires us to foster belonging. In that sense, belonging is not a selfish thing, but it's important in making sure that we have the spiritual strength to create a more just world. In Brené Brown's book, Braving the Wilderness, she writes, most of us are showing up to ensure that people's basic needs are met and that their civil rights are upheld, but we're also working to make sure that everyone gets to experience what brings meaning to life, love, belonging, and joy. These are essential, irreducible needs for all of us and we can't give people what we don't have. We can't fight for what's not in our hearts. And the proposed changes to our Unitarian Universalist Association bylaws that are being voted on next year. The value of equity includes a statement. We declare that every person has a right to flourish with inherent dignity and worthiness. The word flourish is what really stands out for me in that statement. Our commitment to justice is not simply making sure that people have their basic needs met, but it's also making sure that they have the right to flourish. Having communities of belonging is part of that. I'm gonna read that again for you. We declare that every person has a right to flourish with inherent dignity and worthiness. If you're like me, you may fall into the trap of thinking that every person means every person besides you. It's not written that way and I think the amendment process is closed so I don't think we could get it written that way. Well, I would not be a good Unitarian Universalist if I told you what you had to think. I am very confident that each and every person in this space is included in that statement. You have the right to flourish, the right to belong, even if you've broken your vows a million times. Thank you. One of the ways in which we help our community flourish is through our gifts. So now I invite you into this time of giving and receiving where we give freely and generously to this offering which sustains and strengthens the work of our community. You will see on your screen that you can donate directly from our website, fussmedicine.org. You will also see the text to give information there as well. We thank you for your generosity and your faith in this life that we create together. The vision of First Unitarian Society is to be a spiritual community of belonging. That's the first sentence of our new vision statement which we voted for at the parish meeting in May, to be a spiritual community of belonging. I feel like I belong here. I joined FUS in 2019. I had left the Catholic Church a few years earlier and I didn't feel like that church respected me for who I was. I felt like it asked me to believe things that I didn't feel comfortable with. So when I came here, I was skeptical about going back to church. Here's what I remember from my first few times at FUS. I remember the pride flags. I remember hymns that were far more inclusive than anything I used to sing at St. Mark. How could anyone ever tell you you were anything less than beautiful? And I remember learning the first principle of Unitarian Universalism, the inherent worth and dignity of every person. At FUS, I know that I'm respected for who I am and that makes me feel welcome here. I also think that feeling welcome was just the first step in feeling like I belong here. I didn't feel like I was flourishing here, as Aaron said, until I connected with other people. As a new member of the community, it was not easy to put myself out there. I don't think that's necessarily anyone's fault. I felt nervous about meeting new people. And I also felt scared to take a chance on a community that might not be a good fit for me. This fear reminds me of something the rabbi Harold Kushner says about love. I'm afraid that we may be raising a generation of young people who will grow up afraid to love, afraid to give themselves completely to another person because they'll have seen how much it hurts to take the risk of loving and have it not work out. They'll be so fearful of the pain of disappointment that they'll forgo the possibilities of love and joy. I think that's why reaching out to a new community felt risky. It made me vulnerable to rejection and I wanted to protect myself from that. When I reached out, I wasn't necessarily going to find the loving community that I was looking for. Here's what I can say from my own experience. If I did not take the risk and reach out to other people when I was new to FUS, I don't think I would still be here. I emailed Drew, the music director, and I asked if I could join the choir. He responded right away and said, all you need to do is show up. After that, the pandemic made reaching out to people a lot harder. I did take another chance and I joined a Zoom call with the 20s and 30s group. I did not know any of them, but they were all lovely people. It's helpful for me to think about these experiences like a sapling in a forest. A sapling starts out fragile until it reaches its roots out to the other trees in the forest. Once it takes root, it becomes part of a community where the trees literally take care of each other. When one tree is ailing, the other trees send nutrients to it through their roots. That's when I felt like I belonged at FUS. After I reached out to the community, people in the community started reaching out to me. Emily asked if I wanted to help lead a few worship services. Leslie asked me if I wanted to help facilitate Coming of Age, which is one of the classes in our religious exploration program. I do wanna take an extra moment to talk about religious exploration because I'm told we still need more teacher volunteers. And the kids here, as you've seen, and their families and the teachers here are delightful. And I think being in community with those people may be reason enough to volunteer to teach. More than that, though, I think this is an RE program that teaches kids that they are inherently worthy of respect, that what they think matters, and that it's part of a larger truth, and that here they're safe to be the person who they want to be. And if I could give that reassurance to every kid in the world, I would totally do that. I can't, but I can help make that happen here. And so can you. So if you wanna volunteer, the person to talk to is Leslie Ross. And now that I'm recruiting volunteers for stuff, I'm starting to think that I might not be new here anymore. So when I was in high school, I got very good advice about not being new anymore. It was from this really charismatic guy named George N. Parks, who taught me how to be a drum major. Remember what it feels like to be new. When I remember what it felt like to be new at FUS, I remember the pride flags, the inclusive hymns, and the first UU principle. I remember that when I reached out to people, they were responsive and kind. I don't remember an instant sense of belonging, but I do remember having the thought that maybe I could belong here. There's a lot we can do to help people find a sense of belonging here, but I think the most important thing for me is to be welcoming, to respect the right of every person to flourish with inherent worth and dignity, to walk up to someone I don't know and introduce myself, to listen to their story with genuine curiosity, to introduce them to someone new. And I think that being welcoming is our collective responsibility as we foster the spiritual community of belonging that we want to be. Let's remain seated to sing him 1053 in the teal hymno. How could anyone? We'll sing it two times. The title of our service today is creating belonging. The way we create belonging in our community is by sharing our gifts and receiving and appreciating the gifts offered by others. In a moment, I'm going to ask you to write or draw a gift you bring to our FUS community on the piece of paper you received at the beginning of the service. Then you'll offer that gift to the community by bringing the paper to the front of the auditorium and placing it in the vase in front of the pulpit here. At the end of the service, you'll receive a gift by taking one of the papers that someone else offered. We'll place the vase by the center doors of the auditorium so you can take a gift on your way out. If you're feeling nervous right now, be assured that each of you, whether this is your first time at FUS or your thousandth, brings many gifts. Maybe you give the gift of welcome by saying hello to those sitting near you in service or checking in with new faces in your small group. Maybe you teach the children of our congregation or bring silliness and play to the adults. You might cook for the potlucks or listen with a caring presence when someone is having a hard time. You might offer understanding or forgiveness when someone makes a mistake or something larger than a mistake. And of course, your presence in our community in and of itself is a gift. In each of these ways, we reach out our metaphorical tree roots to share nutrients, to strengthen our connections, to create belonging. Though you bring many, I ask you to select one gift you want to offer to the community today and write or draw it on your paper now. When you're ready, you can fold your paper and bring it up to the vase. We gather each week, carrying with us all the joys, the losses, the celebrations, and sorrows of our days. We bring them here, knowing that they are held in love and in support. We light a candle of grief and memory to mark the passing of and to celebrate the life of C.C. Boyard. C.C. was an educator, a real estate broker, a painter, and a poet. She was a mother and a grandmother who moved to Madison in the last decades of her life, where she came to live at Oakwood Village and became a member of our congregation. C.C. passed from life on July 11th, and her family chose to have a small private memorial last week. May the memory of her life continue to bring solace and encouragement to all who knew her. We light a candle of celebration for the 40th birthday of Alyssa Ryan Joy, member of this congregation and now immediate past president of it. Alyssa, your mom submitted this care. She asked me to include the number, don't blame me. And I invite you now to join me in the spirit of meditation and of prayer. A prayer is like a poem. There is no one right formula to which it must adhere, but there should be some rhythm, some flow, however particular to that one alone. Otherwise it is neither a prayer nor a poem. A prayer is like a letter. It does not have to be sent. It does not have to be received. It does not even have to have any particular destination in mind in order to express something profound in the one or the ones from whom it originates or who stumble upon it by accident. A prayer is like a song. Everything in it doesn't have to be true, but the ones that don't have something true in them don't get sung for too long. A prayer is like an apology made once and left unattended to. It means as little as if it had not been made at all. But undertaken with an intention that is repeatedly returned to and refreshed, it can hold us to something nobler, guide us towards something better. And the most important ones are always very hard to make. A prayer is like a raincoat applied on the wrong circumstances. It can be heavy and cumbersome, a burden to the bearer, towards no particular end. But its value is instantly proven when the storm comes. A prayer is like the weak nuclear force, the fundamental interaction in particle physics which can change the flavor of quarks, which operates at an unseen level on items at best dimly understood, doing work which is strange but somehow necessary to our continued existence. In the same manner to the way in which a prayer may operate on a heart. A prayer is a reaching out. It doesn't always connect, but it always tries to. Thank you for praying with me. Amen. Please join us for our closing hymn, number 354 in the gray hymnal. We laugh, we cry. We will sing verses one and four. One addiction today is a responsive reading. Because there have been times when shame has crushed our ability to be wholehearted. Because we have not always had the courage to be imperfect. We let go of who we have to be and the rest of who we are. Because we have struggled to have compassion for ourselves or others. We let go of who we have to be and embrace who we are. Because we have been afraid of our own vulnerability. We let go of who we have to be and embrace who we are. Because we are sometimes too scared to live authentically. We let go of who we have to be and embrace who we are. Because we want to be wholehearted people, confident in our worthiness and our belonging. We let go of who we have to be and embrace who we are. Blessed be, go in peace and please be at rest for the postlude.