 Please join me in a few moments of silence and centering so we may be together in this place. Please join me in singing our in-gathering hymn. You may remain seated. It is number 110 and the words are listed in your order of service. Welcome to the first unit... Gosh, that was like a 60-year flashback to my old Methodist Church. Forgive me. Actually, you are at the first Unitarian Society of Madison and this is a community where curious seekers and nutty people gather to explore her 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 entire congregation, I would like to extend a special welcome to visitors. We are a welcoming congregation so whomever you are and wherever you happen to be on your life journey, we celebrate your presence among us. Newcomers are encouraged to stay for our fellowship hour after the service and to visit the library which is directly across from the center doors of this auditorium. Bring your beverages and your questions. Members of our staff and lay ministry will be on hand to welcome you. You may also look for persons holding teal stoneware coffee mugs. These are FUS members knowledgeable about our faith community who would welcome visiting with you. Experienced guides are generally available to give a building tour after each service and I understand that John Powell will be with us after the service today. Please meet him up by the windows on your left front of the auditorium if you would like to take a tour. We welcome children to stay for the duration of the service however because it is difficult for some people in attendance to hear in this lively acoustical environment. Our child haven back in that corner and the commons along the back of the auditorium are excellent places to go if your child needs to talk or move around or dance or whatever. The service can still be seen and heard well from those areas. This would also be an excellent time to turn off any devices that might disturb the service including cell phone ringers please. I'd now like to acknowledge those people who help our services run smoothly. This morning we have lay minister Tom Boykoff and we also had some help from another lay minister Anne Smiley. We had Becky Dick upstairs greeting and our ushers are Dan Bradley, Anne Ostrom and Mary Savage. Hospitality making those beverages available to us back in the kitchen is Nancy Kossup and Miss Nitschke. John Powell is a tour guide okay. Now please note the announcements in your red floors insert to your order of service for several announcements about today and the next couple of weeks. I would like to highlight three of these announcements. An opportunity fair is coming to a commons near you. How do I get involved in FUS? What are the social justice groups? I keep going a jealous group but I'm not quite sure what that is. Have you ever had so then conceded to our opportunity fair on October 22nd and 23rd after all three services? This is a time for you to learn about the opportunities available at FUS. Our programs will be represented service teams, advocacy teams, food haulers, shawl ministry, spiritual practice groups, lame ministry, exploration groups, chalice groups, choirs, religious education, and if you can imagine there's still much more. All of these are a way to deeply engage with other members in this large congregation and find your place here at FUS. Group representatives will be staffing tables spread throughout the commons and the crossing areas of our atrium building outside here. There will be friendly faces waiting to greet you and let you know about their program. And please remember even if you've been a member for 20 or 30 years there may be new information out there that you want to hear. Please stop by and see if there's something new for you that you'd like to get involved with. Today from 1.30 to 3 in the atrium auditorium, that's right here, please join M. Adams, co-executive director of Freedom, Inc., an organization that works with low income black and Hmong women. She was one of the contributors to the recently released National Movement for Black Lives platform and has been recognized by UW Madison as one of our seven most influential women of color for 2015-16. M. Adams is also the author of Forward from Ferguson. And on a somber note, our hearts are with David and Becky Briles as they mourn the loss of their son, Max, who passed away on Tuesday, October 11 as a result of complications of anorexia. A Remembrance Gathering is scheduled this weekend. It's scheduled for next weekend, October 18. No, is that this weekend? Yeah. October, I'm sorry, October 19 from 5 to 8 at the home of Greg and Leslie Kubeckis, 6008 Ridgewood Avenue in Manona, and an obituary will appear in Sunday's Wisconsin State Journal. And if you want to check on that address, you can see me because I'll have this announcement with me. Thank you. Thank you so much, Choristers. That was just absolutely lovely. Our opening words this morning are from one of the most accomplished female vocalists of the 20th century, the African American singer Marion Anderson. There are many persons ready to do what is right because in their hearts they know it is right. But they hesitate. They wait for the other fellow to take the first move, and he in turn is waiting for you. The minute a person whose word means a great deal dares to take the open-hearted and the courageous way, then many others are likely to follow. I invite you to rise in body and spirit for the lighting of our chalice. And please join your voices with mine as we read together our affirmation words, our chalice lighting words. May we find the courage to live our faith, to speak our truth, and to strive together for a world where freedom abounds, peace prevails and justice is done. May we know the fullness of life without fear and of security without oppression. May we hold one another in the deep and tender places of compassion and know that the divine spark within makes soulmates of us all. Now in the spirit of soulmates, please turn and exchange a warm greeting with your neighbor. Please be seated. And with the exception of the kids in the choristers, I would invite other children to come forward for the message for all ages. Oh, a lot of energy there. So there are going to be some pictures about this story that are going to be up on the screen. So you kind of want to watch those so that you can see who we're talking about this morning. So most of you are in school, right? Okay. So has there ever been a time when someone came into your class and they hadn't been in your class before, so they were a new person and the teacher introduced them, hello, this is a new student and she or he is going to be with you for the rest of the year. Anybody ever had that experience happen? Has that ever happened to somebody, to one of you? Two people like that. Okay, well, this is a story about a little girl who came into someone's class and when that happens, what do you think would be the good thing to do when a new student comes? Welcome them, that's right. Ask them their name. You might give them a present. Yeah, that would be a good thing to do. How about maybe play with them? Would you want to play with them? Yeah. Yeah, you definitely want to play with them. Okay, so one more. Bring them some candy. Wow. Particularly after Halloween. Ah, right. Ah, gotcha. Okay, so this is a story about a little girl named Maya and it's being told by another little girl named Chloe. Any Chloe's here? No. So Chloe says, that winter, snow fell on everything, turning the whole world a brilliant white. And one morning she says, as we settled down into our seats, the classroom door opened and the principal came in and she had this little girl with her and she said, this is Maya. Maya looked down at the floor. I think I heard her whisper, hello. We all stared at her. Her coat was open and the clothes beneath her coat looked kind of old and ragged. And her shoes, they were spring shoes. They weren't shoes that were made for the snow and a strap on one of her shoes had even broken. Our teacher, Mrs. Albert said, say good morning to our new student. But most of us didn't say anything. Now the only seat that was open was the seat next to me, Chloe says. And that's where the teacher put Maya. And on that first day, Maya turned to me and she smiled. But you know what? I didn't smile back. In fact, I moved my chair and myself and my books a little farther away from her. And every day after that, when Maya came into the classroom and said hello, I just looked away. Now my best friends that year were Kendra and Sophie. And at lunchtime, we would walk around the schoolyard. Our fingers laced together and we would whisper secrets into each other's ears. Is that what you guys do at recess? Yeah. So one day we were next to the slide and Maya came over to us and she held out her hand. And in her hand, she had these shiny jacks and a bright red ball that she had gotten for her birthday. It's a high bouncing ball, she said to us. But none of us wanted to play with Maya. And so Maya played a game with herself. Well, that afternoon when we got back into the classroom, Maya whispered to me, bet you can't guess who the new jack's champion of the world is. And behind me, Andrew whispered, Chloe's got a new friend, Chloe's got a new friend. She's not my friend, I whispered back. The weeks passed and every day we whispered among ourselves about Maya laughing at her clothes and her shoes and the strange food that she brought with her to school. And some days Maya would hold out her hands and show us what she had brought to school, like a deck of cards or pickup sticks or a small tattered doll. And whenever she would ask us to play with her, we said no. So the days they began to grow warmer and warmer and the pond thawed, grass began growing where the snow had been and one day Maya came to school wearing a very pretty dress and some fancy shoes, but it was clear that the dress and the shoes looked like they belonged to another girl before Maya. My friend Kendra said, I've got a new name for her. Never knew. Everything she has came from a second-hand store. We all laughed at that. Yeah, and Maya, after we laughed at her, she stood over by the fence and she was holding a jump rope and she did not come over to ask if we wanted to play jump rope with her. And after a while, she rolled the ends around her hands and she started jumping and she jumped around the whole schoolyard without stopping. She didn't look up once. She just jumped and she jumped and she jumped. And the next day, Maya's seat in the classroom was empty. In class that morning, we were talking about kindness and Miss Albert brought this big bowl of water and she set it in front of us and we all gathered around her and watched as she dropped a stone into the water and the waves rippled out away from the stone. And she said to us, this is what kindness does. Each little thing we do, each little kind act ripples out into the whole world. And then Miss Albert let each one of us drop a stone as we told her one kind thing that we had done. When it came my turn, I stood there holding Miss Albert's rock in my hand silent and Miss Albert said, even small things can count, Chloe, but I couldn't think of a single kind thing I'd done and so I just passed the rock back to the teacher. Yeah. And Maya, well, she didn't come to school the next day and she didn't come to school the day after that and I walked to school slowly hoping, just hoping that this would be the day that Maya would return and she would give me a big smile and I would smile back at her. And I promised this would be the day that I would say hello to her because as Miss Albert said, each kindness makes the world just a little bit kinder. But Maya's seat, it remained empty. And then one day Miss Albert announced that Maya wasn't coming back, that her family had in fact moved away and then she told us, take out your book students, it's time for spelling. That afternoon I walked home alone and when I reached the pond, a throat filled with all the things that I wished I would have said, the things that were kind that I could have said to Maya. And I threw small stones into the pond watching over and over how the water rippled away, out, out, and away. I watched the water ripple as the sun set through the trees and the chance of a kindness to Maya became more and more, ever more gone. And that's the end of the story. And it's not a happy story, is it? Not all stories have a happy ending. And I think it probably should tell us that when we're in school that there are those kids that will come in school that are just a little bit different and maybe because they're new and we've already got our friends that we don't have any time for anybody new and to show them some kindness and to perhaps give them a piece of candy or something like that. So when new kids come into your class then we hope that you'll treat them with kindness and make friends with them. Become what we call an ally to that person. So thank you for listening to me today and now we're going to have you stay right here as our co-starters and cherubs sing us another song. Wonderful. Thank you so much. And now we invite our children to depart for their classes. You guys finished wrestling? Luther King's 1963 letter from the Birmingham City Jail. I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. And I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's greatest stumbling block in the stride toward freedom is not the white citizen counselor, not the Ku Klux Klaner, but the white moderate who is more devoted to order than to justice, who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice, who constantly says, I agree with you in the goal that you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action. The person who paternalistically feels that he can set the timetable for another man's freedom, shallow understanding from people of goodwill is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection. I guess I should have realized that few members of a race that has oppressed another race can understand or appreciate the deep groans, the passionate yearnings of those who have been oppressed. Fewer still have the vision to see that injustice must be rooted out by strong, persistent, and determined action. I am thankful, however, that some of my white brothers and sisters have grasped the meaning of this social revolution and they have committed themselves to it. They are still too small in quantity, but they are big in quality. I invite you now to rise in body or in spirit as we sing together hymn number 124. Please be seated. As many of you probably know, the Major League Baseball Playoffs are now underway, and many fans are wondering whether the hapless Chicago Cubs will at long last break through and win the World Series that has eluded them for better than a hundred years. This is perhaps a record of futility unmatched in the history of sports, so we are all eyes and all ears, are we not? But I would like to begin my reflections today, not with a shout out to the Chicago Cubs, but by sharing the quest for another record, one that many observers felt would never be broken. And that was the career home run record established by the legendary Babe Ruth. The Bambino, as he was known, hit 714 four-baggers over the course of two decades, and that record stood untouched for almost four decades. But in the early 1970s, it became clear that a Milwaukee player, yes, a Milwaukee Braves player by the name of Hank Aaron, had a shot at that record. Now, Henry Louis Aaron was a quiet, unassuming figure, often described by teammates and opponents alike as a gentleman. But as his home run total continued to rise, and as it was expected to eclipse Ruth's accomplishment, Henry Aaron's life became a veritable nightmare. So much hate mail was sent to him that the U.S. Post Office awarded him a plaque for receiving the highest volume of mail of any civilian. The FBI investigated numerous death threats. A bodyguard accompanied him to the field each day, yes, in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and there was even an attempted kidnap of his young daughter. Aaron's main antagonist during his quest for the career home run title one observer wrote, was not Babe Ruth's ghost, but the racial hostility of America's baseball fans. One Homer short of the record at the end of 1973, one Homer short, Aaron admitted that he might not live to see the 1974 season. It still hurts inside, he later acknowledged, because it chipped away at a part of my life that I will never have again. I did not enjoy myself, and it was hard for me to not enjoy something that I worked so very hard for. So as I was thinking about what it means to be a white ally to people of color, as I was reviewing the literature, as I was soliciting various opinions, one suggestion that I encountered was this from Paul Keeville. To begin with, he says, we must understand and we must learn from the history of whiteness and of racism. The Aaron story is a case in point. But baseball aside, there is a more significant development in the history of American race relations that bears particular mentioning because it has undoubtedly conditioned the perceptions of a good many of us white people. Now perhaps those of you who subscribed to Netflix, watched or heard of a documentary entitled 13th, which premiered on October 7th, just a week ago. How many people saw 13th? A couple of you. That documentary focuses on the 13th Amendment to the Constitution, which abolished slavery. And the text of the 13th Amendment reads, neither slavery nor involuntary servitude accept as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States or any place subject to their jurisdiction. Despite its admirable intent, the abolishment of slavery, which Abraham Lincoln fought very hard for, this amendment contained a loophole large enough to drive a chain gang through, accept as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted. And in mortal fear that newly liberated slaves would begin to claim rights and privileges that historically had been reserved for whites, policy makers, white policy makers throughout the South began passing and rigorously enforcing a wide assortment of so-called black codes. And these were statutes designed to criminalize conduct that heretofore had been the prerogative of any and all citizens and thus the right to travel freely, to pursue work of one's choosing, to own a firearm or even a knife, many others, these rights were curtailed exclusively for African Americans. And the cumulative effect was to recreate a slave culture through the machinations of white-dominated courts and county sheriff's offices. As Douglas Blackmon documents in his book Slavery by Another Name, this system retarded African American social and economic development for the next 100 years. Black codes remained in place in many states right through the middle of the 20th century. And both inside and outside of the South, they had the nefarious effect of planting in white mines the image of the black man as criminal, a dangerous malifactor. This is a legacy that continues to haunt us even to the present day. Now I suspect that many well-intentioned, many progressive whites would deny that they have been conditioned by this old stereotype. And while this may indeed be true at the conscious level, most white Americans do develop and retain implicit biases that to some extent affect our deportment to a much greater degree than we would care to admit. Now there's been a lot of data on implicit racial bias that's been compiled in recent years thanks to a test that was developed by scholars at Harvard University. To date, more than 3 million Americans of all races, including members of the Madison Police Department, have completed this implicit bias test. And it tells us, this test tells us, Tim Wise notes, that the vast majority of us have internalized certain racist and prejudicial beliefs about people of color. This doesn't mean we're bad people. It doesn't mean we are incorrigible racists. We develop these unconscious biases simply by being here and being subject to certain cultural cues. Advertising works wise continues. And we have been subjected, white America has been subjected to a whole lot of negative advertising. And you know what can be a little scary to take Harvard's online test? It even contains an admonition before you even begin that if you are not prepared for what might be some disturbing results, don't proceed. But I swallowed hard and took the plunge. And guess what? I didn't do very well. The test revealed that at the unconscious level, I exhibit a decided preference for white people over people of color. Was I disappointed? Shagrin by that result? You betcha. Because I've been for many years an activist. I know my history. I am fully aware of and disturbed by the glaring racial inequities in our society. But at a deeper level, at age 65, almost 66, I am seriously biased. But in the end, I'm glad to know this about myself. As the Christian pastor and social activist Jim Wallace has said, America's original sin is racism. Transmitted through the generations, this meme has left its taint on a great many of us. The question is not, do we have it? Most of us do. But what do we do with that knowledge? That's the pertinent question. I attended services at Christ the Solid Rock Church two Sundays ago. I go there as often as I can when I don't have duties here. And Everett Mitchell is the pastor of that church. He's also now a Dane County circuit court judge. And at one point in Everett's sermon, which was focused on reaching for delayed goals, he assured his listeners that you don't have to be perfect, just honest. Be honest about what's holding you back. Be honest about your fears and your reservations. Be honest about your ignorance and your confusion. Be honest about who you are. Because if we can just be honest with ourselves and accept the fact that very few of us in this racially charged culture can claim to be truly colorblind, if we can admit to that, then we can be more authentic. William Faulkner once said, if the past is never dead, it's not even past. If we are going to be allies, we need to know our history and how it continues to contribute to our own conditioning. And without such awareness, we are so much more likely to dismiss the discomforting narratives that persons of color try to tell us. Or we try to reframe those stories in ways that reconfirm our preexisting biases. And so, for instance, a Guardian newspaper recently reported that 38% of unarmed individuals killed by U.S. law enforcement, 38% are black, even though they constitute only 13% of the general population. That is an alarming statistic and it should be telling us something, not just about trigger happy officers, but about publicly approved laws and policies that countenance that kind of carnage. But when such killings occur, the first thing that typically happens is for the victim to come under closer scrutiny. What did he or she do to provoke or to present a threat to law enforcement? It took Tulsa police 30 seconds to kill unarmed Terrence Crutcher, whose car had stalled out on the highway. And on a recording that was made at the scene, officers can be heard describing this music-loving father of four as a, quote, big bad dude, and thus someone capable of causing considerable mayhem. A toxicology report is now being presented as evidence that Crutcher was under the influence of drugs, acting erratically, and thus a candidate for the application of lethal force. True or not, every time an assessment like that is made, it allows white America to beg the question of reform and to ignore calls for a searching examination of the policies and the protocols that disproportionately affect people of color. You know, statistics indicate that as a white person, I am four or five times more likely to be criminally victimized by another white person as by a person of color. But black people, not white people, are still much more likely to be regarded as potential predators. And we know this for a fact because white people, when they are asked whether they support the death penalty, become more likely to articulate support for the death penalty after they know that it disproportionately affects African-Americans. Only an exaggerated fear of black violence can explain a paradoxical result like that one. So in addition to an awareness of bias, acknowledging privilege, that is another prerequisite for any prospective ally. Some things in your life, Francesca Ramsey says, you're never going to have to experience. You're never going to have to contend with just because of who you are. But white privilege is a reality that 25% of white Americans completely deny exists. And another 50% believe that it's only marginally significant. But the facts demonstrate otherwise. There was a recent column in The New Yorker by James Surowicki, who is the economic reporter for that particular magazine. And Surowicki's column addressed the wealth gap, noting that white households possess on average seven times as much wealth as the average African-American household, seven times. This is not for lack of effort on the part of African-Americans because blacks and whites in this country have both worked very hard. But historically, whites have been amply rewarded for their work, while historically, the fruits of black labor have often ended up where? In white pockets. The wealth gap, Surowicki writes, is attributable to a toxic combination of institutionalized discrimination, persistent racism, and policies that amplify inequality. History and legacy created the racial gap. The sociologist Thomas Shapiro told Surowicki. And policies have maintained that gap. And together, he says, they contribute to the hidden cost of being African-American. As Angela Blackwell observed at last year's YWCA Racial Summit, the question is not how African-Americans got into this situation. It's rather, how did we allow it to happen? There are many other facets to the privilege equation. And there are many resources that you can draw upon in our own library, or my own reflections on this very topic from last January. But that's all about education. And that's only one part of what it means to be an ally. Because once you become convinced, the harder part is trying to convince others. These are difficult conversations to have with people that you care about, Kirsten Claude-Feller acknowledges. But even if those conversations get awkward, do it anyway. And do it in a manner that moves the discussion forward rather than shutting it down. Brittany Cooper, professor of African and gender studies at Rutgers University, concurs saying white people should recognize that the best way to be a good ally is to go to work among yourselves to create more allies. Use your privilege to confront racial injustice. So over and above education, over and above honest self-assessment, there is this active dimension to ally-ship. You know, our English word comes from the Latin oligare. It's a verb. It literally means to bind to. Ally is a noun in English. But following the Latin, it should also be treated as a verb. Because as Francesca Ramsey says, telling me you're an ally, that's not nearly enough. Working to change hearts and minds in the white community, that represents one important action that any of us can take. But it demands a certain level of courage. Because as the YWCA's executive director Rachel Krinsky discovered, the response that you can get when you try to make that case can be defensive. It can even be vitriolic. And if we find that scary, if we find it off-putting, then perhaps we need to reacquaint ourselves with another piece of our nation's history, the civil rights era. Because being a white ally in the 1960s required exceptional courage. Because these individuals were often regarded as what? Race traders. Two Unitarian Universalists. Viola Liuso, James Reid, were attacked. And they were killed in the state of Alabama for their efforts. In the letter from the Birmingham jail, Reverend King complained about white reticence, white timidity. But he paused long enough to acknowledge those few, like Liuso, like Reid, who were big in quality. Allyship may involve certain costs, entail certain risks today. But it is by no means as risky as it may go. But in deciding whether or not we want to take that step, we still must ask the old question. The question that freedom rider Paul Brainis asked himself in 1961. The question, what type of white person do I want to be? There are those who will say, why should I do this work? After all, I'm not personally responsible for slavery. For Jim Crow. I am not responsible for any of the problems past or present that beset African Americans. And the answer to that is that as white Americans, we continue to benefit from past injustices. We continue to enjoy privileges bestowed upon us solely because of our race. And there is a difference between being responsible for something and being accountable as the beneficiary of a system that is still rife with inequality. You are white, Sarah Salem writes. Use the unrivaled respect you enjoy as a societal birthright to acknowledge this and to rectify it. And so should we embrace it, we can further this cause by talking to our kids early on about race and preparing them in advance for situations that they are very likely to encounter. And we can situate ourselves in communities where as Everett Mitchell puts it we are in the minority, where others are actually in control. That's where some of our deepest and best learning can take place. We can join a demonstration. We can lend material support to those who are willing to stand and make a public witness. And we should be strong enough to make mistakes. Because as the Reverend Alex G recently taught a Madison audience you're probably going to do something wrong. You're probably going to say something that's wrong. But that simply means that you are doing something. Being an ally does not require a person to become a compliant, uncritical follower. Allies walk beside, not behind. But being an ally does require a willingness to be taught. And when necessary defer to someone else's better and more informed judgment. It's a tough assignment for white people because we are, quite frankly, used to calling the shots. We are just a few days past Yom Kippur, the Jewish holiday, a holiday during which Jews the world over engage in searching moral reassessment. So I would close then by invoking the memory of a German rabbi, Joachim Prinz. During the 1930s he was an outspoken opponent of the Nazis in his native Germany. He moved to this country in 1937 and became a staunch ally of Martin Luther King Jr. He addressed the crowd of 250,000 people at the 1963 March on Washington. And at that event Rabbi Prinz said that bigotry and hatred are not the most urgent problems. The most urgent, the most disgraceful, the most shameful, the most tragic problem is silence. At the very least silence refuse any longer to be silent. And now I would invite Eric Severson to share with you an invitation to practice. Good morning. First Unitarian Society's equity ministry team exists to end racism through the work of racial justice grounded in Unitarian universalist principles. An ambitious mission to say at least we cannot do it alone. The team also is committed to helping build on our community's visions of ministry, in particular to engage a broader spectrum of members and friends in increasing opportunities for exposure to the rich diversity of human experiences, beliefs and identities. It is to intentionally support and guide one another in a step toward this vision that you all are cordially invited on this, our faith community's annual Black Lives Matter weekend to participate in a 21-day equity practice. What you say I have to practice something? No worries. You will have a handy list to guide you and the practice is all about looking in new places and opening your mind to new ideas and what could be more stimulating. But what is equity anyway, you might ask? According to a recent Ford Foundation conference on community philanthropy and racial justice racial equity in the American South equity is society's commitment to meet people where they are and provide for each the resources necessary to enable them to achieve at their highest levels. Equity is about respecting each person's inherent worth and acknowledging in word and indeed that the primary infrastructures of our society have failed to do so. Sounds a bit like our first and second principles. Committing to a personal practice of equity is important because no matter where we are in our understanding of today's challenges of systemic racial inequities every one of us can benefit by learning, growing and practicing greater awareness. Only with practice can each of us act effectively to advance racial equity in our own little corner of the world in accordance with our UU principles. The idea for this equity practice is based on the 21 day equity habit building challenge developed by white privilege conference organizer Dr. Eddie Moore and Debbie Irving about waking up white. 21 days is widely considered to be the minimum time it takes to effectively build a habit and this is what we hope this equity practice will become for all of us who participate. Sometimes it's hard to know where to begin when starting a journey of racial justice work. Laying the foundation for this by learning about our societal context and our own privilege is essential. The equity ministry team has compiled a list of media articles, videos, local events and multicultural news sources that guide us in this process. Categories from which you might choose include framing the journey assessing ourselves and our environment contextualizing racial inequity in our history and our local area planning the next steps in the process to be an effective ally. Much of this practice can be done individually but we encourage you to share your journey with another and with others in your life. Ask the friend or family member to join you. You can track the progress of your 21 day journey any way you choose by using a handy form by journaling your thoughts and reactions or by responding to prompts from our first Unitarian's Facebook page. In addition, we have planned events on each of the weekends of the three week period when we can come together to complete the day's practice and check in with one another. There are bound to be moments of struggle and moments of epiphany moments we hope you will share both for your own learning and for that of others. We invite you to sign up at the table in the Commons after the service to receive the list of 21 day equity practice guidelines and to pick up a handout with more information. The materials are all available online but you do not need to be computer savvy. Just tell the person at the table if you need alternate means of digesting the material. We will make sure you have the tools you need to establish your practice and heed to matters of racial equity. A printed set of the material is available for perusal in a notebook in the FUS Library. And speaking of the library please stop in and peruse the wide selection of justice related books and on display including a number of new titles and children's books. So may each of us find the curiosity courage and the intensity within ourselves and with the help of our faith community to carry out our equity practice together. At this time I invite you to participate in the giving and the receiving of our offering and as you will note from your program a portion of your gifts today will be directed to the Young Gifted and Black Coalition and devoted to the work that they are doing in our community to achieve greater equity. Please be generous. At this time I invite you to join with me in a period of meditation and as we sit silently and reverently individuals among you will read the names of 20 black men and women who suffered violent death in the past year. We believe that those lives mattered but apparently they did not matter enough for them to be granted a full term of life. These 20 represent of course but a small fraction of black lives lost under similar circumstances and so today may we be cognizant that the many who were unnamed they mattered as well. The pictures of these 20 can be seen in the commons area after the service so that you can connect a name with a face. Please be seated and let us continue now in a moment or two more of meditation. The days grow short the seasons turn and life's adventure continues through incalculable numbers of births and death. Ages pass and ever so slowly humanity struggles out of the shadows the nether regions of ignorance superstition and fear. Not forever will the blight of prejudice corrupt our relationships. Someday we surely will understand that the superficialities of color and creed, gender and ethnicity but these have nothing to do with intrinsic human value. Let us hold out the hope that at some not so distant time the old errors finally will be erased that we will be one people richly diverse resourceful, talented celebrating in and marveling at the world that we have created through common effort and for the common good. May it be so. Blessed be and amen. I invite you now to rise in body and spirit one final time as we sing together hymn number 1018. Amen Go with me. My colleague James Hobart asks what can we do? We can speak out against injustice when others remain silent. We can include all persons when others want to include only a few. We can practice compassion when others profess indifference. What can we do? We can give of ourselves while others withhold themselves. We can attach our lives to a human company when others seek to remove themselves from common interests and cause. What can we do? Through thought, word and deed let us seek to live for justice and toward harmony today tomorrow and always. Blessed be and amen. Please be seated for the post loop.