 It has to be an overcast toy. Do you need one of those in 4K? It's not the K, it's the Loom. I don't know what, I'm curious what Loom we have. I think it's a 30 year, like 32 year, 23 year. I don't know, I'm curious. I don't know. Can you switch back to the same position? The same position. Yes, twice a year. That's so perfect. What time is it? Sometimes 8.47. The voice sounds terrible. I think we don't have to pay. I don't know. How do you feel otherwise? I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I would like to invite you into a few moments of centering silence. Please remain seated and join in the in-gathering hymn in your program number 391. Good morning. 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 and connections of each individual as together we seek to be a force for good in the world. My name is Dorit Bergen. I'm filling in for Maureen. On behalf of the congregation, I would like to extend a special welcome to visitors. We are a welcoming congregation. So whoever you are and wherever you are on your life's journey, we celebrate your presence among us. Visitors are encouraged to stay in service and look for people carrying teal stoneware mugs. These are FUS members knowledgeable about our programs and community life, and they look forward to the chance to speak with you this morning. You can also stop by our information table outside of the library where you can find more information about our upcoming events and programs. In this lively, acoustical environment, it can become difficult for those in attendance to hear what is happening in our service. So we remind you that our Child Haven and Common's area are excellent places to go when anyone needs to talk or move around. The service can still be seen and heard from those areas. We do have hearing assistance devices available. Please see one of our ushers if that would be helpful for you. And this would be a good time to turn off all electronic devices that might disrupt the service. Experienced guides are generally available to give a building tour after each service, so if you would like to learn more about this sustainably designed addition or our National Landmark Meeting House, please meet near the large glass window on the left side of the auditorium. I'd now like to acknowledge those individuals who help our services run smoothly. On sound this morning, we have Mary Manoring. The lay minister is John McEvna. Your greeter was Corinne Perron. Your ushers were Ken Gage, Brian Chanis, and Tom Dolmage. Making coffee for us this morning, Bess Nitschke and Terry Felton. And the tour guide person, I believe, will be John Powell. Please note the announcements on the red floors insert in your order of service, which describe upcoming events at the society and provide more information about today's activities. Again, welcome. We hope that today's service will stimulate your mind, touch your heart, and stir your spirit. This church is not a place of rigid convictions, of immutable truths or abstract theologies. This is a community of those who have lived and suffered loss, and who wish to develop greater courage and compassion. This is a congregation where the strands of our ideals, our hopes, and our sympathies form a cable strong enough to bear us across those deep valleys of fear, grief, pain, and disillusionment. Each of us has experienced such places, or we surely will. And by joining together, we gain strength, which is why we gather in this special place, a people alive with curiosity and earnest to be responsive to one another's needs. I invite you to rise in body and spirit for the lighting of our chalice. Our words of affirmation this morning are responsive, so if you will join in repeating the bolded sections. May this house be a sanctuary, a safety zone, a place of rest, and a house of peace. To that end, may we inspire the young and fortify the old. Let this house be sanctified by what happens here. And in the spirit of that healing, I turn to your neighbor on this coolish late October day in exchange with them a warm greeting. Please be seated. It is our custom at the end of the month to set aside a few moments in the first part of the hour for the sharing of joys and sorrows, a time for members and friends and even visitors to our congregation to relate to the entire gathered community, some special event or circumstance that has affected your life or the life of someone close to you in recent days or weeks. General announcements, news items, and partisan appeals are discouraged during joys and sorrows. So for the next few minutes, anyone who wishes is invited to step to the front of the auditorium and light a candle in one of the two candelabras to my left or my right. And then using the microphone provided by our lay ministers, share your name if that feels comfortable, as well as your brief message. Please note that our services are live-cast, so listeners are not restricted to those who are sitting in this room. Please also come forward and wordlessly light a candle of commemoration and simply return to your seat. And so now I do open the floor for the sharing of these significant matters of our lives. Morning, my name is John Woods. Two years ago, this month, my mother passed away. And last month, on September 28th, we attended the marriage of my son, Christopher. I light this candle in honor of my father, who brought me music. My name's Mary Rendell. I found out that a friend of mine, really a friend of my ex, died a month ago leaving his wife and his son, who's basically been bedridden for a decade. I'm lighting this candle for Alice Otsuka. She was like a second mother to me growing up, and it was always a home that I could go to in my youth and feel welcome and loved. She is suffering from cancer. She has stroke cancer, and the treatments are actually causing a lot of complications for her right now, so this is for her. Ready for Hamilton? My name is Amy Schultz, and my husband, Dave Waylo, and I, went to share a joy. Our son, Louis Schultz-Waylo, and his girlfriend, Jenna, just arrived in Santiago, Spain today. They hiked the Camino, and they started in Arles, France in mid-September. So anyway, they made it there today. Lillian is happy for her friends. I'm Laura Hanson, and this is Isaiah Hanson, and we just moved to town, and we're very happy to share a joy today, that we got to be together with our whole family to celebrate my mother, Dar Hanson's birthday, who's listening online right now. John, if you would light one more candle to signify all of those unspoken joys or sorrows. We hold those with equal concern and tenderness in our hearts. Please join me in the spirit of meditation. As October draws to a close, and autumn's last adamant leaves are whipped from their branches by the galloping wind. As scarves and caps come out of storage and storm windows replace the screens that once invited summer into our homes. As squadrons of geese set out for southern destinations, an earthbound squirrel's hastened to provide against the dire straits of winter. At such a time as this, do our thoughts return to things past, to life retreating, and to life that is no more. A piece of us is never prepared for winter, never reconciled to departure and to death. Long into November, our hearts protest summer's passing, the end of warm days and fragrant nights, shirt sleeve strolls along lush lake and river banks. Likewise, on this weekend before all hallows, images of old dear companions who once graced the summer of our lives were crowed in upon our memories. Let us not be hasty to push them out again. Let us not be charry of the sadness and the regret that their presence evokes. May these brave and lovely spirits live again in our tender thoughts for our recollections attest to their enduring importance. And they prove that death and distance are powerless to sever the bonds that connect truly loving hearts. And now I would have us recall those members and former members of First Unitarian Society who have passed away during the past year. These are their names. Mark Hoover, Lillian Redding, Anne Nelson, David Stuckey, Charles Bentley, Orville Stretch Lilliquist, John Foles, Fran Bicnell, Gabriel Rochester, Jack Fervor, Carol Miller, Elaine Burns, and Mary Mickey. Let us continue on in a moment or two of silent meditation as we commemorate those who are no longer among us. Blessed be and amen. And as we sing hymn 322, we would invite our children to leave for their classes. Verses 1, 2, and 5, please be seated. We continue with a notice that appeared in the Buddhist journal, Lion's Roar. Michael Stone passed suddenly from this world on July 16. The story of what led to this moment is complex and it's heartbreaking. Michael Stone was loved for his brilliant mind and his generous heart. He was an eminent Buddhist and yoga teacher, author, an uncommon activist, an uncommon human being. He shone brightly and was the bedrock of a community of yoga and meditation practitioners, first in Toronto, and then to an expanded international community. If you met or studied with Michael, you would remember him as wise, charismatic, and poetic. He seemed unshakable and capable of holding everyone else's suffering, and he did, but he struggled with his own suffering. Michael lived with bipolar disorder his whole life, and bipolar disorder is characterized by a fluctuation between normalcy, mania, and depression. Along with his lust for life was an impulsivity that he struggled to quell through yoga and Buddhist practice. His brain was rapid fire, wide open, and that was part of his brilliance at his sensitive nature. Michael came to spiritual practice innately at a very young age and then to formal study as a teenager. It was also a way for him to take care of his mental health, and for a long time he was well enough to resist the diagnosis, to stay balanced naturally through his spiritual practice and self-care, but as things got worse he began to open up to family and friends and to seek medical care. He established self-care routines. He exercised, went to bed early, ate a special diet. He saw naturopaths, herbalists, trainers, therapists. He continued his daily practice. As things worsened he turned to psychiatry and medication as well, and balancing his meds was ever-changing and precarious. He struggled to be open with those around him about how much and how deeply he struggled. Michael really did try, but as versed as he was with the silence around mental health issues in our culture, Michael feared the stigma of his diagnosis. He was just on the cusp of revealing publicly how shaped he had been by bipolar disorder and how he was doing unbeknownst to everyone, he was growing more and more desperate. So on July 13th he got a haircut, he exercised, he ran household errands, and finally he acquired a street drug. Initial toxicology tests suggested he had opioids, including fentanyl in his system. He was found around midnight of that night unresponsive. It was easy to shake one's head and think, what a shame. Culturally we don't have enough language to talk about this. Rather than feel the shame and the tragedy of it, can we find the right questions to ask? What can we do for ourselves and others who have impulses and behaviors that we have difficulty understanding, impulses that may scare us, that may silence us? And how, above all, can we take care of each other? The second reading is a brief poem, Noon Walk on the Asylum Lawn by Anne Sexton. Anne Sexton was a Pulitzer Prize winning poet, a writer of children's books and plays, and she too suffered from bipolar disorder, and in 1974, at the age of 46, she took her own life. The summer sun ray shifts through a suspicious tree. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow, it sucks the air and it looks around for me. The grass speaks. I hear green chanting all day. I will fear no evil, fear no evil. But the blades extend and reach my way. The sky breaks. It sags and it breathes upon my face in the presence of mine enemies, mine enemies. The world is full of enemies, and there is no safe place. I found occasion a few nights ago to watch a film that I had first seen when it was released in 2012. Many of you have probably seen it as well. Silver Linings Playbook. It s a romantic comedy. It ended up with eight Academy Award nominations, including Best Picture. It is an engaging movie, funny and poignant by turns and populated by exceptional actors. Although romantic comedy is a familiar and perhaps overworked genre, and while this film remained true to form in many respects, what set it apart was its treatment of mental illness. Pat Solitano is a high school teacher. He s bipolar. He has just been released from the hospital after a six-month commitment. Tiffany Maxwell. She copes with unresolved grief and depression in the aftermath of her policeman husband s unexpected death. And these are not caricatures. Pat and Tiffany s struggles are believable, and they provoke sympathy rather than snickers from viewers. Yes, there are scenes of high humor, but the couple s mental afflictions are treated with unusual sensitivity. A decade earlier, another film with a similar focus won the Oscar for Best Picture. A Beautiful Mind. It traces the career of the Nobel Prize-winning mathematician John Nash, who developed schizophrenia in his early 20s and battled that disease throughout his career. Although that film did contain some inaccuracies, it did give the broader public an opportunity to see what it would be like to live as and with someone who was suffering from a severe mental disorder. Other features in recent years have followed a similar pattern. Michael Clayton. Take Shelter, being two notable examples. And contrast this with the way that filmmakers treated the subject before. Think of Alfred Hitchcock s psycho, or Halloween, featuring a man who escapes from an asylum and goes on a killing spree. The plot to another thriller, Shutter Island, unfolds in an asylum for the criminally insane. Once upon a time, severe mental illness was presented in such a way as to evoke gratuitous fear and to stoke the fires of stigma. Perhaps this shift in filmmaker sensibilities is a sign of progress and of expanded public awareness. Unfortunately, in other important respects, we are still trying to find our way forward. Consider, for example, the epithets that Donald Trump routinely employed when he was running for president of the United States. Jeb Bush was a basket case. Lindsey Graham was a nut job. Trump told Ted Cruz that he was nuts, that he was unstable. He insisted that Bernie Sanders was wacko. But the problem wasn't just with Donald Trump. Commentators, as Colby Ikowitz pointed out in the Washington Post, commentators took that candidate to task for all of his indecent characterizations of undocumented Mexicans, of Muslims, of women, of prisoners of war. But it was very rare that they ever challenged his repeated callous references to mental illness. It is still socially acceptable the media expert Otto Wall observes, acceptable for cartoonists, policymakers, healthcare professionals, and the public at large to mock, stereotype, avoid, and otherwise denigrate people who experience mental disorder. Kay Redfield Jameson has spent her life coping with bipolar disorder, or as she prefers to call it, manic depressive illness. And for much of her career as a professor of psychology, she tried to cope with her disorder privately, afraid that if she revealed anything that academic institutions that her professional peers would reject her. And she also resisted taking medications, feeling that, hey, I should be strong enough to manage my periods of depression and mania unaided. I didn't want to need a crutch, she wrote. Over time, Jameson worked through all of these issues. She came out of the closet and she became a leader in her field. But she still regrets the derisive words that she hears, wacko, crazy, mad, certifiable. All of these remain part of our popular language. And she says the pain of hearing these words in the wrong context or with the wrong tone the tone is sharp and it creates these memories of insensitivity and prejudice and those memories last a very long time. Moreover, she says, allowing such language to go unchecked or uncorrected leads not only to personal pain, but it contributes both directly and indirectly to discrimination in jobs, insurance, and society at large. The media's sensationalist treatment of mass murderers further complicates this issue. If a killer cannot be classified as a terrorist, commentators quickly turn to mental illness as a probable cause. And sometimes it is. But what is rarely pointed out is that studies show that persons with severe mental illness are much more likely to be victims rather than perpetrators of violent crime. And usages and images such as these are all profoundly stigmatizing. But then what does that mean? What are we talking about when we use that particular term? Stigma finds its origin way back in ancient Greece. And at that time it was applied to individuals who bore a physical mark. It was usually a brand that had been burned into their skin. And it was a mark that indicated their disreputable or their depraved status. Slaves, criminals, traitors bore the mark of stigma. They were stigmatized and thus relegated to the margins of society if not banished entirely. Later on in Christian culture, the plural stigmata refers to the wounds inflicted on Christ at his crucifixion. And here what would normally be taken as a mark of shame becomes, for the faithful, a sign of Jesus' unjust and unmerited suffering at the hands of sinful humanity. And thus the stigmata becomes signs that call on the observer to repent and to be grateful for Christ's supreme sacrifice. But in the Christian world, stigmata could also have very negative connotations. So witches, for instance, were believed to possess certain physical characteristics that attested to their evil status and thus led to their persecution. And the same was true for certain aberrant behaviors associated with mental illness. Manic or psychotic episodes were thought to be evidence of demonic possession and they were stigmatized accordingly. And there was solid biblical warrant for all of this because at least on two occasions Jesus exercises demons from individuals who are showing clear signs of either mania or schizophrenia. And because of the spiritual and moral taint associated with them, persons coping with mental illness have continued to bear a heavy burden of social stigma. It connotes, as Stephen Hinshaw writes, an internal mark of deep degradation to the individual who carries it and a license for the social majority to perpetuate and to escalate their judgemental attitudes and responses. Now, to be sure, other segments of society have been similarly affected. Individuals with physical disabilities or who may be severely overweight have been stigmatized in our society. Certain diseases, such as AIDS, have caused estrangement, as does a prison record. Transgendered persons know stigma very well. Muslim women who wear the hijab seek men who wear the turban have felt the sting of stigma in our culture. But as a society in many respects we have made strides de-stigmatizing many of the conditions that prior to this led to discrimination and prejudice. And this is, of necessity, a very slow and gradual process because as humans we are programmed to look with suspicion, to look with disdain at people who are demonstrably different, who are not like us, who are not part of the tribe to which we belong and to whose mores we subscribe. Old prejudices are very, very hard for any of us to uproot. But then if there is any one class of individuals for whom stigma is a serious ongoing problem, not just in the United States but throughout the world, it is for those who suffer from illness. And such people represent as many as much as 6% of the total population. They represent a third of our homeless citizens, perhaps 40% of those who are currently doing time in prison. 42,000 Americans commit suicide each year, nearly three times the number of homicides. And for most of these individuals mental illness is a precipitating cause. Unfortunately, religion continues to factor into this problem. There are today those in our Christian culture who perceive malign forces at work. Exorcisms are still performed. Pentecostal preachers still claim the power to drive the devil out of the afflicted. In one of his books, Parker Palmer recalls a conversation that he had with a woman who, like him, had struggled with depression for much of her adult life. And they sat together and they shared their respective stories and at the end, she asked him plaintively, well, why do some people kill themselves and some people get well? Why is that? Parker Palmer had been fortunate enough to survive his own bouts with debilitating depression and so he thought very carefully before replying to this woman. But nothing came to him except this. I have no idea. I really have no idea. Afterwards, Parker Palmer felt remiss and regretful that he could not offer this particular woman something more helpful, something more constructive. But then a few days later, he received a letter in which the woman thanked him profusely for his comment, for his candor. My response, he said, had given her an alternative to the cruel Christian explanations that were common to the church to which she belonged. Because in her religious community, a failure to recover indicated insufficient faith or divine disapproval for something she had done or had not done. But you know, religion isn't the only culprit here. Because until fairly recently, the scientific and the legal communities were also complicit in reinforcing stigma. Secular experts in the field claimed that insane individuals had literally lost their reason, the reason that defines us as adult human beings. And because they were not in their right mind, such people were thought to be more akin to animals or to immature children. And thus it was proper for them to be stripped of their dignity and of their essential rights. It was not considered to be especially cruel or inappropriate to warehouse the severely mentally ill, in dreary asylums or to subject them to brutal treatments as it were. And some prominent asylums even invited the public in to view the freaks housed within. As many as 20,000 visitors per year entered Bethlehem Hospital in London, better known as Bedlam, to gawk at that institution's 200 wretched residents. Similar entertainment was provided in America's first major mental asylum in the city of brotherly love, Philadelphia. Now, progressive reformers, like the Unitarian Dorothea Dix, did lobby tirelessly for more humane, for more dignified forms of care. But discrimination was ongoing. And as scientists and lawmakers climbed aboard the eugenics movement in the early 20th century, laws were passed in 30 states, mandating the forced sterilization of the developmentally disabled and individuals with serious and chronic mental illnesses. It is hard to imagine a more officially sanctioned and institutionalized form of stigmatization than this Stephen Hinshaw writes. By official decree, persons with severe mental disturbances were simply forbidden to reproduce. For Stephen Hinshaw, a professor of psychology at UC Berkeley, this history is particularly meaningful. His own father, a great philosopher, the University of Ohio. His father spent a lifetime in the throes of severe manic depression. Stephen's father was absent for months at a time from his family's home life because he was confined to one asylum or another. And in an effort to spare them their father's stigma, Stephen and his sister were kept completely in the dark about where their father was. It was only when Stephen was in college studying psychology himself that his father finally was able to reveal his shameful secret. And after that, the two enjoyed many candid conversations. But then one day shortly before his death the older man confided to his son, you know Stephen, there were times when I wished that I had cancer. Taken aback, Stephen just repeated that word as a question. Cancer? Is his father losing his mind again? Well cancer is a real illness, the old man said calmly. But each of my experiences was related to a mental disorder. And he noted how ironic, how disheartening it was for a philosopher to fall victim to such a disease. How I have always longed to have a real illness, he said. Stigma, as this example indicates can profoundly affect the self-image of one who experiences it. They internalize society's disapproval and they now must deal not only with the complications of the disease itself, but with a pervasive sense of unworthiness and personal inadequacy. And some may even begin conforming to society's stereotypical expectations of the mentally ill which as Hinshaw notes sets in motion this vicious circle of interactions. And then there's also to make matters worse, the associated problem of what we call courtesy stigma whereby family members and others close to the affected individual are also marginalized. And to avoid that fate to escape the shame of the afflicted individual, Steven Hinshaw's mother and Kay Jamison's sister and Michael Stone's students all felt that it was in their interest to hide or to deny So how do we combat the stereotypes, the prejudice, the discrimination that produce and maintain this kind of stigma? Self-disclosure that can be a powerful tool and in recent years more and more people have been coming out and sharing their stories. A quarter of a century ago, William Styron the author of the acclaimed novel Sophie's Choice published an account of his own struggle with debilitating depression. The memoir was called Darkness Visible it became a surprise bestseller. More recently, Scott Stossel the editor of the Atlantic Monthly wrote about his effort to overcome an acute anxiety disorder and since he has written about his own issues he has received so many letters from fellow sufferers who have told him what was going on with them and now they felt that they could actually reveal the problem it made me feel, Stossel says like I finally did something really good because they anticipate and dread being stigmatized many people do delay or forego treatment for their mental illnesses and too often that will mean that they will lose jobs they will lose their families their homes and even their lives when the symptoms become unmanageable. Fully half of returning military veterans who suffer from PTSD never seek help because they fear that they will appear weak. Narrative accounts by other veterans who have recovered that could be a powerful motivator for such reticent men and women returning from the scene of battle. In point of fact, these reflections come to us today courtesy of Carolyn Waxler who purchased the topic at last spring's Cabaret service auction in the South to psychologists and she has coped with both her own and her mother's deep depression a story that she told in a collection of narratives edited by Stephen Hinshaw. As a society we do need to begin taking mental illness much more seriously because even today resources are inadequate to meet the demand. Politicians routinely pay lip service to the problem but then they go back to congress and they vote against funding more hospitals and treatment centers. Indeed, the most recent congressional budget proposal calls for major cuts to Medicare and in particular for programs that address addiction and mental illness. And then too many private insurance policies lack parity provisions that provide necessary coverage for both mental and physical disorders. Because of stigma, many of those who suffer from severe mental illness do retreat into isolation and this is the risk of self-harm. And so for them joining a support group or taking an active role in an organization like the National Association for the Medley Ill whose mission is to overcome stigma, that can be very, very liberating. And then finally for those of us who wittingly or unwittingly collude with the culture of stigma there is PG Divine's formula for adjusting our own attitudes. He says it's intention, attention, and time. Intention, attention, and time. Through concerted effort and through deliberate practice he says people can overcome their stereotypic thoughts and their gut reactions and substitute for them stereotype breaking beliefs. Do we have a role here as a congregation? In answer to that question the psychotherapist Patricia Deegan had this brief and telling response. For God's sake she said just love them. Blessed be and amen. And now I do invite you to participate in the giving and receiving of this morning's offering and the description of the organization that is the beneficiary of your gifts is contained in your order of service. And now may the love which overcomes all differences which heals all wounds which puts to flight all fears which reconciles all who are separated may that love be in us and among us now and always. Please be seated for the poster.