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Part I: “What a Free Faith Invites”           I began my October newsletter column with this question: “How do I engage in constructive dialogue with people who think, feel, believe and act radically differently than I do?” I’ve been encountering various versions of this question throughout my career; and as our nation’s cultural, political, economic and religious polarization continues to deepen, I seem to encounter it multiple times every day. So many unrelated conversations about so many unrelated topics eventually land on some version of “How do I engage in constructive dialogue with people who think, feel, believe and act radically differently than I do?” It feels like an essential question. It also feels more and more like an impossible undertaking.           I want to address this question, but a little housekeeping first. The Coleman family purchased this sermon at our 2023 goods and services auction. It’s long overdue. Originally, one of the kids suggested I should preach about pangolins, which are a type of anteater.  I was really looking forward to that—and may still preach that sermon. But then she handed the project over to her grandfather, Bill. Eventually he landed on this question about how we engage with people who think, feel, believe and act radically differently than we do. It’s an important question to address from the pulpit just about any time of year; but our ministry theme for October is “cultivating compassion,” and it certainly fits with that theme. Engaging constructively with people who think, feel, believe and act radically differently from ourselves requires that we find in ourselves some degree of compassion for the person with whom we are engaging, and for ourselves. This is a tall order, especially when our compassion for the other is not returned in kind. More on that later.            I want to share my thinking on this question in three, short reflections. The first I call “What a Free Faith Invites.” Our Unitarian Universalist faith—our free faith, our creedless faith, our liberal faith—invites us to engage with people who think, feel, believe and act radically differently than we do. I won’t say it requires us to engage. Nobody has to engage, and there are often good reasons not to engage. But our faith is invitational in this way. If I commit to our first principle, “respect for the inherent worth and dignity of every person,” that commitment doesn’t disappear when I encounter someone who holds opposing political, cultural or religious views. If anything, that commitment makes me curious about who this someone is, what experiences have led them to hold their views. If I commit to our second principle, “justice, equity and compassion in human relations,” that commitment doesn’t disappear when I encounter someone on the opposite side of the nation’s culture war from me. We typically and appropriately follow that second principle into a position of solidarity with society’s most vulnerable people and groups. Yet the principle is universal. Everyone deserves to live in a just and equitable society. Everyone deserves compassion, including people with whom we disagree.           If I commit to our fourth principle, “The free and responsible search for truth and meaning,” and our fifth principle regarding the “right of conscience,” neither disappears when I encounter someone who abides by a radically different theology or worships a radically different God than me. In fact, if we remain in our social, cultural, political and religious bubbles, all we have is an echo chamber. This inevitably stunts our capacity for growth. At least that’s the risk. I believe this: As we engage with people who think, feel, believe and act radically differently than we do, our understanding of what is true and meaningful grows, develops, evolves, is honed, is strengthened, is deepened.           If I hold dear the Unitarian Universalist value of generosity, that holding ought to create in me a spacious openness towards people who hold contrary views. If I hold dear the Unitarian Universalist value of pluralism, that holding ought to create in me a spacious openness toward people who hold contrary views. If I hold dear the Unitarian Universalist value and seventh Unitarian Universalist principle of interdependence, that holding ought to create awareness in me that I am spiritually, physically and cosmically connected to all there is—we are all star stuff—and that includes people who think, feel, believe, and act radically differently from me. Of course, this kind of engagement in the midst of deepening polarization is extremely difficult. But our free faith invites us to engage. Our free faith affirms that this engagement ought to be possible.   Part II “On Love and Hate”                     During my summer study leave I read Liberated to the Bone  by the Minneapolis-based writer, healer and cultural worker, Susan Raffo. I was struck by her chapter on the similarities between love and hate—how they can feel very much the same. Referring to scans of a structure in the brain called the putamen , she says “when we feel hate, there is a part of us that lights up. It expands, glows. It’s the same part of us that lights up when we feel love.” It’s not exactly the same, but very similar, “and that matters.” [1]           She says, “It feels good to hate. It actually feels good. It has its own kind of energy, its own sense of connection, of purpose, of story. It can unite people around a common enemy. It can take away the uncomfortable awfulness of having to look at myself and how I have created or co-created this horrible situation we are in. It’s all tied up with the pleasure drug [oxytocin], because usually, hate goes along with something wonderful and visionary that we want to protect.” [2]           Here’s the lesson I take from her analysis. When we are threatened—and make no mistake, there are people in this room whose very right to exist is threatened; or when the people we love are threatened; or when the neighbor we care about, or immigrants, or trans people, or poor people, or the black and brown federal employees losing their jobs are threatened; or when free speech, due process, the justice system and democracy itself are threatened, we are rightfully and appropriately angry. And when we wish to engage in dialogue with people who think, feel, believe and act radically differently from us, but we hear these same threats echoing through their words, even threats of violence, yes: we are rightfully and appropriately angry. Our putamen lights up, big feelings rise up from our bellies. Our bodies tense up. We’re ready to respond. Do we respond with hate? Or do we respond with love? And because they can feel so similarly in the moment, do we even know the difference? Or are they both welling up simultaneously, both churning in that space Raffo describes behind our eyes halfway between our forehead and the back of our skull? [3]  Can we tease them apart, so that even if we’re feeling hate, we can still recognize and respond with love? In that moment, can we give energy to and articulate not what we hate, but what we love; and can we invite the person with whom we’re engaging to give energy to and articulate not what they hate, but what they love? That’s a very different conversation than the one we anticipate having.           I would be remiss if I did not mention a critical piece of Raffo’s analysis. Hate is easy. It rises up, rushes up, hits all the pleasure centers, pushes everything else aside. But know this: it’s a defense mechanism. It’s a shield. It’s protective. It’s a mask. Do you know what it protects us from? Hate masks and protects us from sorrow, sadness, grief. Sorrow, sadness and grief for all that we’re losing, for all that we’ve lost. Raffo says “the farthest back root for the word hate  that we can find is the word for sorrow. That sentence is almost enough on its own.” [4]  Imagine if this engagement we’re so anxious about—this dialogue with people who think, feel, believe and act radically differently from us—imagine if it were about all that brings us sorrow. We might find that at least we don’t feel as radically differently from each other as we assume we do.   Part III “No Harm”             I endeavor to approach people who think, feel, believe and act radically differently from me with compassion. I try to convey my compassion through my curiosity about who they are, where they’re from, what they think and why, and what they believe and why. I hope they don’t think I’m nosey. But my free, creedless, liberal, Unitarian Universalist, dignity-respecting, truth-seeking, interdependence-affirming faith invites me to approach in this way. I know I have something to learn. As I approach, I am mindful of two realities:           First, however I convey my compassion, I realize it may not be reciprocated. Related to that, I am mindful that the person with whom I am engaging may intend to treat me with compassion, and may anticipate that I will not reciprocate. So maybe we dance awkwardly until something that feels like trust emerges. Either way, my most common experience of engaging with people who think, feel, believe and act radically differently from me is with people from conservative faith traditions. I am curious. I ask a lot of questions. I learn a lot about the person. But I rarely experience curiosity in return. I rarely get questions in return. I typically don’t feel that the person is learning who I am. Maybe that’s as far as the conversation can go in that moment. I typically leave the conversation knowing more about their faith. I don’t have the impression they’ve learned anything about Unitarian Universalism.           Second, I am a straight, cis-gendered, white, middle-aged, upper middle-class, mostly able-bodied, professional man with a masters degree from Harvard Divinity School, practicing ministry in a faith tradition that, though it may on the surface appear fringy, is actually deeply rooted in American colonial, revolutionary, literary and spiritual history with all the challenging contradictions that entails. I’ve got a lot of privilege, which makes me relatively safe in conversations with people who think, feel, believe and act radically differently from me. But I am keenly aware this is not how it works for many people, including many people in this room. When this person who sits on the other side of the political, religious, cultural, social divide expresses thoughts, feelings, beliefs or takes actions that are harmful; when they dismiss, discount, deny and either imply or threaten violence toward vulnerable communities—immigrants, LGBTQIA people, people with disabilities, people of color, women, poor people, people on public assistance, religious minorities, atheists, pagans, low-income working people—even if they don’t realize what they’re expressing or doing is harmful, I see no reason why anyone who holds any of these vulnerable identities should feel obligated to continue engaging. There is no reason to stay in a dialogue or engagement that causes you harm. Exiting that dialogue, or refusing to have it in the first place, is an act of self care, and the absence of engagement is not on you. It’s on them for not recognizing you as the full, whole, perfectly imperfect, beautiful, holy, sacred, made-in-the-divine-image, interconnected, beloved human being that you are. I feel strongly that all of us, especially those of us with more privilege and safety, must do everything in our power to be in those dialogues where we can say clearly and without apology that this country and, frankly, this planet, and truly our sorrowful, grieving, threatened, hating but also loving human brains, bodies and spirits are big enough and spacious enough and ultimately interdependent enough for all of us to embrace all of it, the full range of human being, the full diversity, nuance and layers of human identity and the natural world. We can embrace it all with the vast reservoirs of love, compassion and respect that are actually available to us. This is one of the great insights of our free faith. There is enough love to go around. There is enough compassion to go around. There is enough respect to go around. This is the invitation our faith lays before us each and every day. Let us each respond to this invitation as best we can. Amen and blessed be. [1]  Raffo, Susan, Liberated to the Bone: Histories, Bodies, Futures ( Chico, CA: AK Press, 2022) p. 49. [2]  Raffo, Liberated to the Bone, p, 52. [3]  Raffo, Liberated to the Bone, p. 49. [4]  Raffo, Liberated to the Bone, p. 50.

Gathering Music (Mary Bopp)   Welcome and Announcements (Rev. Josh Pawelek)   Centering   Prelude "A Conversation" Improvised by Mary Bopp   Chalice Lighting and Opening Words “Turn Scarlet, Leaves” Words by Raymond J. Baughan Music by Mary Bopp Turn scarlet, leaves Spin earth Tumble the shadows into dawn Tumble the shadows into dawn   Opening Hymn #1023 “Building Bridges” Words: The Women of Greenham Common peace occupation in England, 1983 Music: Contemporary English Quaker round   Building Bridges between our divisions, I reach out to you, will you reach out to me? With all of our voices and all of our visions, friends, we could make such sweet harmony.   Time for All Ages   Musical Meditation   Joys and Concerns   Musical Meditation   Offering   MARC, Inc. provides the opportunity for people with intellectual and developmental disabilities to live meaningful lives of independence, choice, inclusion, and continuous personal growth. MARC, Inc. was founded in 1952 by seven families who were working together to support their children who were living with disabilities. Today, they have a campus on Sheldon Road in Manchester where they provide multiple services and programs, in addition to managing eleven residential homes. MARC supports almost three hundred individuals from twenty-seven towns in the Greater Hartford area.   UR Community Cares UR Community Cares' mission is to keep older and disabled neighbors supported in their homes and active in their communities. Their programs include:  “Neighbors Helping Neighbors,” which provides volunteer support so that older adults and people with physical disabilities can live safely at home; “Cycling Without Age Manchester,” which deploys an e-bike rickshaw to provide free recreational rides for older and disabled residents in Charter Oak Park and along the East Coast Greenway; the UR Community Tech Center, which offers free technology support and volunteers to answer questions about smartphones, tablets, laptops; and UR Vision Resources, a100-page printed Blind/Vision Impaired Directory to ensure more people know what services are available.     Offering Music Andante from Sonata no. 13 in A Major by Franz Schubert   Sermon “On Love and Hate” Rev. Josh Pawelek   Closing Hymn #1031 “Filled with Loving Kindness” Traditional Buddhist Meditation Adapted by Mark Hayes Music by Ian Riddell   May I be filled with loving kindness. May I be well. May I be filled with loving kindness. May I be well. May I be peaceful and at ease. May I be whole.   May you be filled with loving kindness. May you be well. May you be filled with loving kindness. May you be well. May you be peaceful and at ease. May you be whole.   May we be filled with loving kindness. May we be well. May we be filled with loving kindness. May we be well. May we be peaceful and at ease. May we be whole.   Extinguishing the Chalice Flame   Responsorial “The Flame in Our Hearts” Words by Josh Pawelek Music by Mary Bopp   The flame in our hearts, never ceases burning.   Closing Circle May faith in the spirit of life And hope for the community of earth And love of the light in each other Be ours now and in all the days to come.

Gathering Music   Welcome and Announcements   Centering   Prelude "Believing" by Mary Bopp   Chalice Lighting and Opening Words excerpt from Finding My Way Out of the Darkness By Tony Ferraiolo   Opening Hymn #1002 “Comfort Me” by Mimi Bornstein-Doble   Comfort me, comfort me, comfort me, oh my soul. Comfort me, comfort me, comfort me, oh my soul.   Sing with me, sing with me…   Speak for me, speak for me…   Dance with me, dance with me…   Comfort me…   Time For All Ages   Joys and Concerns   Offering "Kindness Rocking" by Mary Bopp   MARC, Inc. provides the opportunity for people with intellectual and developmental disabilities to live meaningful lives of independence, choice, inclusion, and continuous personal growth. MARC, Inc. was founded in 1952 by seven families who were working together to support their children who were living with disabilities. Today, they have a campus on Sheldon Road in Manchester where they provide multiple services and programs, in addition to managing eleven residential homes. MARC supports almost three hundred individuals from twenty-seven towns in the Greater Hartford area. UR Community Cares ' mission is to keep older and disabled neighbors supported in their homes and active in their communities. Their programs include:  “Neighbors Helping Neighbors,” which provides volunteer support so that older adults and people with physical disabilities can live safely at home; “Cycling Without Age Manchester,” which deploys an e-bike rickshaw to provide free recreational rides for older and disabled residents in Charter Oak Park and along the East Coast Greenway; the UR Community Tech Center, which offers free technology support and volunteers to answer questions about smartphones, tablets, laptops; and UR Vision Resources, a100-page printed Blind/Vision Impaired Directory to ensure more people know what services are available.     Offering Music   Chancel Talk “Finding My Way Out of Darkness” or “Kindness Rocks” Tony Ferraiolo and Rev. Josh Pawelek   Closing Hymn #1053 “How Could Anyone?” By Libby Roderick   How could anyone ever tell you you were anything less than beautiful? How could anyone ever tell you you were less than whole? How could anyone fail to notice that your loving is a miracle? How deeply you’re connected to my soul.   Extinguishing the Chalice   Closing Circle May faith in the spirit of life, And hope for the community of earth And love of the light in each other Be ours now, and in all the days to come.

Gathering Music Welcome and Announcements Centering Prelude "Nothing Can Harm Our Love" Written and performed by Tret Fure Chalice Lighting and Opening Words "With Dirt on Our Hands" by Rev. Dr. David Breeden Come into this moment as if stepping into a garden at dawn, quiet, tender, open to what may grow. Let compassion be the flower we bend toward. We return as if returning to the soil, hands in the dirt, willing to tend what needs tending. Here, today, we gather to remember: that the most delicate blooms require daily care. That attention is the water of love. That we are still learning how to care. Come. Let us begin again in love-- tending the garden of the heart, and the heart of compassion. Opening Song "A Piece of the Sky" Written and performed by Tret Fure (Chorus) Raise your voice so high Like it's a piece of the sky Let it rain down around you, let it rain Raise your voice so high Like it's a piece of the sky Let it rain down around us all Introduction to the Service Time for All Ages "Spread it Around" Written and performed by Tret Fure Joys and Concerns Musical Interlude Offering Our October Community Outreach Ministry recipients are MARC, Inc. and UR Community Cares. MARC, Inc. The Manchester chapter of The Arc, MARC provides the opportunity for people with intellectual and developmental disabilities to live meaningful lives of independence, choice, inclusion and continuous personal growth. UR Community Cares UR Community Cares, located in Manchester, bridges the gap between those eager to make a difference and those in need of support. Their mission is to connect volunteers with opportunities to assist older adults and individuals with disabilities, thereby strengthening communities and improving lives. Offering Music "The Tie That Binds" Written and performed by Tret Fure 1st Reflection - Tret Fure Musical Interlude 2nd Reflection - Ellen Williams Closing Song "Freedom" Written and performed by Tret Fure (Chorus) Carry Freedom in your heart Carry Justice as a goal Carry Love in every fiber of the fabric of your soul Carry Freedom in your heart Carry Justice as a goal Carry Love in every fiber of the fabric of your soul Extinguishing the Chalice and Closing Words Closing Circle May faith in the spirit of life And hope for the community of earth And love of the light in each other Be ours now, and in all the days to come.

The oak burl chalice on the world map table in the chapel at UUSE Over the last decade I’ve become a fan of the Drive-By Truckers , a three-guitar, southern rock band, founded in Athens, Georgia in 1996. I first noticed them when they started writing songs in support of the Black Lives Matter movement in the late 20-teens. I’m also very moved by their songs decrying American gun violence and the very nuanced way in which they proclaim their southern pride while not ignoring or white-washing histories of violence and racism. In July I went to their show at the College Street Music Hall in New Haven. Their encore was the song Andy and I just presented, "World of Hurt" f rom their 2006 album, A Blessing and a Curse . (Note that I left out some of the words and edited a few others – they don’t all work for a Sunday morning worship service.) I think I’d heard the song before the concert, but it hadn’t yet grabbed my attention. Well, it grabbed me that night in New Haven. I have no other words for it than to call it a spiritual experience. I found the music beautiful, and the lyrics a probing, searing meditation on the nature of love that met me right where I was in that moment, spoke to me in a way I needed to be spoken to, lifted me up, buoyed me, connected me. Music is known to have that effect on people. Over the next few weeks I listened to it easily 50 times—I’m sure I drove my family bananas. Please don’t play that song again. Please turn it off!  Every time I listened I thought, I want to share this in a UUSE Sunday service . So, here we are.             I would not expect anyone listening to our rendition this morning to be as spiritually moved as I was that evening in July. That’s not my purpose in sharing the song. I can no more recreate my spiritual experience in you than you can recreate your spiritual experience in me. But I do want to offer the song’s lyrics as a scripture not only for this sermon, but for the entire congregational year. This is Part II of a sermon series, “Imagining a Congregational Year.” And as I imagine the year stretching out before us, love figures prominently: naming and defining love; expressing love, practicing love, reflecting theologically on love, putting love into action. I imagine this for many reasons, but I’ll name two big ones here:             First, I imagine love figures prominently this year because our denomination, the Unitarian Universalist Association (UUA), is centering love in its articulation of our faith both nationally and internationally. As most of you know, when our General Assembly changed Article 2 of its bylaws in June of 2024, it replaced the seven Unitarian Universalist principles with six values—justice, equity, transformation, pluralism, interdependence, generosity—emerging from love at the center. The new Article 2 says “Love is the power that holds us together and is at the center of our shared values. We are accountable to one another for [doing the work of] living our shared values through the spiritual discipline of Love.” As a reminder, our congregation is committed to continuing its use of the seven principles and will integrate them with the new values and their related covenantal statements. Our Principles and Values Integration Task Force will be making recommendations for how best to do that later this fall. Because love is at the center in the new Article 2 and because our denominational leaders are using love to articulate who we are as people of faith, I imagine we will be talking more and more about love through the course of the congregational year. What does it mean when we say love is at the center of our faith? What do we mean when we refer to a spiritual discipline of love?             Second, I imagine love figures prominently for us this congregational year because our response to authoritarianism in the United States demands it. I’m going back to my sermon two weeks ago on imagining the congregational year. In response to political violence and increasing threats of political violence that week, I said “our principles, values and traditions call us to engage in nonviolent  resistance. I am convinced violence only leads to more violence. In resisting authoritarianism, the central question for me is how we do it with love, compassion and empathy.” [2]             This is not going to be an easy conversation. Last Sunday, in a national address, President Trump said “I hate my opponent and I don’t want the best for them.” In the face of such explicitly-stated presidential hatred which, I believe, includes liberal religious people like ourselves, what does it mean to say “My faith calls me to love my opponent and to want the best for them?” Not an easy conversation.             I go back to the song, “World of Hurt.” The Drive-By Tuckers wrote it in 2006. They likely weren’t anticipating our world of hurt in 2025. There was plenty of hurt to go around in 2006. The September 11 th , 2001 terrorist attacks might have been on their minds. The devastation of Hurricane Katrina and the government’s failed response in late August of 2005 might have been on their minds. The US wars in Afghanistan and Iraq might have been on their minds. But maybe none of that was on their minds. Maybe they just wanted to write a song that acknowledged that none of us—no human being—goes through life without some measure of pain, suffering and trauma, though there’s no fairness in how the hurt is spread around. Maybe they just wanted to write a song acknowledging that none of us—no human being—goes through life without moments of sadness and grief, fear and cowering, loneliness and isolation, disappointment, disillusionment, discontent—though again, there’s no fairness in how the hurt is spread around. This world of hurt is not just this authoritarian world we live in now. It’s in the experience of being alive. It's in the human condition. This song—our scripture for this morning—is saying, at least to me, that the only way to meet this world of hurt with integrity, maturity and wisdom is with love. But it’s not love as an empty pop music platitude. It’s not a feel-good liberal religious notion of love. It’s not some smart Facebook meme about what Jesus really taught which feels good in the moment, but which runs the risk of ultimately making us feel more smug and self-righteous. To love genuinely and authentically is to make oneself vulnerable to loss, because the people we love die. To love genuinely and authentically is to make oneself vulnerable to all manner of hurts because people in power may care nothing about you, may not want the best for you. To love in this world of hurt is to risk potentially everything. “To love,” as the song says, “is to feel pain. There ain't no way around it. The very nature of love is to grieve when it is over.” And right now, for so many of us, when it comes to love of country, love of democracy, love of what we thought were our agreed upon rights such as freedom of speech, it feels more and more like all of it is ending or over. Part of why hearing this song for the first time felt like a spiritual experience is because it took me to a place I needed to go to, but I didn’t quite know I needed to go there. It’s not just a matter of preaching “love your neighbor” or “love the stranger,” or “love your enemy,” or “love your country.” It’s easy enough to say. What I’ve realized is that I need to love my neighbor, the stranger, my enemy, my country and preach it with a full and unflinching understanding that doing so inevitably comes with a cost, requires sacrifice, and will cause pain. That’s a conversation I imagine we’ll be having this congregational year. But our scripture doesn’t leave us locked in a world of hurt. It shows us not a way out, because there is no way out—“to love is to feel pain”—but that there is also more to love than pain. And what our scripture shows us is a beautiful, spacious, life-giving hope that comes with our willingness to love despite the risk, along side the pain. For me, it’s a beautiful, spacious, life-giving hope that comes as we gather all our hurting pieces, knit them into an inevitably imperfect whole that says “yes” to life, “yes” to everything I love, “yes” to the people I love, and in this world of hurt, “yes” to the country I love, “yes” to the democracy I love,” “yes to the civil rights I love,” “yes” to the whole blessed thing. The song ends with the humble, hopeful reminder that if what you have is working for you / Or you think that it stands a reasonable chance / And if whatever's broken seems fixable / And nothing's beyond repair / If you still think about each other and smile / Before you remember how screwed up it's gotten / Or maybe still dream of a time less rotten / Remember, it ain't too late to take a deep breath / And throw yourself into it with everything you've got / It's great to be alive. I know it’s an unorthodox scripture. I know the proper Christian clergy might sneer and say “that’s not a real scripture.” But I remind us that the whole world is holy, and virtually any words can became scripture if they say what you need to hear. And this is what I imagine we’ll be talking about in the coming congregational year. To love is to feel pain. But it ain’t too late to take a deep breath and throw yourself into it with everything you’ve got. Turn to a neighbor and assure them, “it’s great to be alive.” Turn to another neighbor and assure them, “it’s great to be alive.” Let’s say it all together: “It’s great to be alive.” Amen and blessed be.

Gathering Music Ambient #13 by Dan Thompson Inspired by Ben Elzerman Welcome and Announcements (Rev. Josh Pawelek) Centering Prelude "Blue Monk" By Thelonius Monk Andy Ricci, guitar Chalice Lighting and Opening Words "There is a Love" By Rebecca Ann Parker Opening Hymn #38 "Morning Has Broken" By Eleanor Farjeon Andy Ricci, song leader Morning has broken like the first morning, blackbird has spoken like the first bird. Praise for the singing! Praise for the morning! Praise for them, springing fresh from the Word! Sweet the rain's new fall sunlit from heaven, like the first dewfall on the first grass. Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden, sprung in completeness where God's feet pass. Mine is the sunlight! Mine is the morning born of the one light Eden saw play! Praise with elation, praise every morning, God's recreation of the new day! Time for All Ages Musical Meditation (Andy Ricci) Joys and Concerns Musical Meditation (Andy Ricci) Offering Our September Community Outreach Ministry recipients are the Manchester Latino Affairs Council and She Leads Justice. Manchester Latino Affairs Council The Manchester Latino Affairs Council (M.L.A.C.) was established in January of 2007. Its current mission is to address social issues with a focus on diversity, inclusivity and equality within Manchester's Latino community. She Leads Justice She Leads Justice advocates for under-resourced, marginalized women in Connecticut. They work to close the civil legal justice gap and to create state policy for economic security. Formerly known as the Connecticut Women's Education and Legal Fund, their work supports women who identify as cisgender and transgender, and non-binary individuals, as well as people of all marginalized gender identities. Offering Music "Stonewall" By Andy Ricci Sermon "Imagining a Congregational Year, Part II" Rev. Josh Pawelek Including "World of Hurt" By the Drive-By Truckers Andy Ricci, vocals and guitar Josh Pawelek, spoken word Closing Hymn #95 "There is More Love" African American hymn Andy Ricci, song leader There is more love somewhere. There is more love somewhere. I'm gonna keep on 'til I find it. There is more love somewhere. There is more hope somewhere... There is more peace somewhere... There is more joy somewhere... Extinguishing the Chalice Closing Circle May faith in the spirit of life And hope for the community of earth And love of the light in each other Be ours now, and in all the days to come.

Gathering Music (Mary Bopp) Welcome & Announcements Centering Prelude #188 "Come, Come Whoever You Are" Music by Lynn Ungar Arranged & performed by Mary Bopp Chalice Lighting Building Belonging by Rev. Dr. David Breeden Welcome, friends-- Newcomers, old-timers, seekers, skeptics, saints of habit and rebels of the heart Here, we gather not because we think the same, but because we choose to journey together. Belonging is not something given--it is something we build, with open hands and open hearts. It is made in the sharing of stories, the holding of silences, the courage to show up as we are. Here, we practice and radical hospitality--not of perfection, but of presence. May we make this place a shelter for the soul, a workshop for justice, a sanctuary where love is not merely spoken but lived. Deeply. again--in trust, in hope, in the spirit of belonging. Introduction to the Service Opening Hymn #360 "Here We Have Gathered" Words by Alicia S. Carpenter Music per Genevan psalter Here we have gathered, gathered side by side, Circle of kinship, come and step inside! May all who seek here find a kindly word; May all who speak here feel they have been heard. Sing now together this, our hearts' own song. Here we have gathered, called to celebrate Days of a lifetime, matters small and great; We of all ages, women, children, men, Infants and sages, sharing what we can. Sing now together this, our hearts' own song. Life has its battles, sorrows, and regret; But in the shadows, let us not forget; We who now gather know each other's pain; Kindness can heal us: as we give, we gain. Sing now in friendship this, our hearts' own song. Time for All Ages Selections from Rumple Buttercup by Matthew Gray Gubler Welcoming Visitors and Joys and Concerns Musical Response Prayer "Belonging" (a responsive reading) Rev. Dr. David Breeden One: Belonging is the warmth of a hand held out, All: the nod across the room that says: I see you. One: Belonging is not agreement but the invitation to the table; All: the invitation to be whole. One: Belonging is the story that changes because you arrived, All: the circle that widens because we are here. One: Belonging is the lilt in the song sung together, All: made more true because it holds your note. One: Belonging is a promise: not that you must become us, All: but that you already are. Offering Our September Community Outreach Ministry recipients are the Manchester Latino Affairs Council and She Leads Justice. Manchester Latino Affairs Council The Manchester Latino Affairs Council (M.L.A.C.) was established in January of 2007. Its current mission is to address social issues with a focus on diversity, inclusivity and equality within Manchester's Latino community. She Leads Justice She Leads Justice advocates for under-resourced, marginalized women in Connecticut. They work to close the civil legal justice gap and to create state policy for economic security. Formerly known as the Connecticut Women's Education and Legal Fund, their work supports women who identify as cisgender and transgender, and non-binary individuals, as well as people of all marginalized gender identities. Offering Music "We Can Be Kind" Words & Music by David Friedman Sung by Gerald Dillenbeck Sermon "Radical Welcome" Stacey Musulin Closing Hymn #323 "Break Not the Circle" Words by Fred Kaan Music by Thomas Benjamin Break not the circle of enabling love Where people grow, forgiven and forgiving; Break not the circle, make it wider still, 'Till it includes, embraces all the living. Come, wonder at this love that comes to life, Where words of freedom are with humor spoken, And people keep no score of wrong and guilt, But will that human bonds remain unbroken . Join then the movement of the love that frees, 'Till people of whatever race or nation Will truly be themselves, stand on their feet, See eye to eye with laughter and elation. Extinguishing the Chalice A Theology of Welcome Rev. Dr. David Breeden Let's be the welcome we crave-- open hearts, arms outstretched. Let's embody radical welcome, unquestioning love. Let's be the welcome we crave-- deeply hearing voices and hearts. Let's be the welcome we crave-- enriching, understanding. Let us embody the community we crave. Closing Circle May faith in the spirit of life And hope for the community of earth And love of the light in each other Be ours now, and in all the days to come.

UUSE's Oak Burl Chalice, on the globe table in the garden level chapel We are in the midst of launching our congregational year. I am using this morning’s sermon as well as my September 28 th  sermon to imagine what the year will look and feel like. There are a few things I really want to do with these two sermons, and one thing I don’t want to do. Broadly speaking, I do want  to convey excitement about everything we have planned: worship, concerts, movie nights, game nights, classes, small groups—all the ways we grow and learn together—meeting new people, building new relationships, engaging in the wider community. I do want  to emphasize our September ministry theme, building belonging . As I said in my newsletter column, I like having this theme front and center in our hearts and minds as we launch the congregational year. It’s a reminder that, all year long, one of the most critical aspects of congregational life is the way we welcome, include and empower people, the way we build and strengthen our community here at 153 West Vernon St., and the way we work to strengthen relationships beyond our meeting house. I do want to express my joy at being amongst you after my summer vacation and study leave. I do want  to express my enthusiasm and excitement to be practicing ministry in and with a congregation that, by so many measures, is thriving.           And then there is one thing I really don’t want to do this morning, but it would be spiritually negligent for me as your minister to not do it, which is talk about authoritarianism in the United States. I notice we often use euphemisms to talk about it. We refer to “the difficult times in which we live.” We refer to “everything going on in the nation and the world right now.” We say, “I can’t watch the news anymore.” So I will say it as clearly and as plainly as I can, because we need to call it by its true name: Every day, the United States government, under the leadership of President Donald Trump and the architects of Project 2025, slides more deeply into authoritarianism, enabled by a federal judiciary and a Congress that, on the whole, refuse to and/or fail to use the tools available to them to limit the excesses of the executive branch.           I recognize there are many who will accuse me of being an out-of-touch liberal (and much worse), that I am contributing to the polarization plaguing our country, that I am being divisive, that I am somehow brainwashed by woke ideology. I really don’t know how to counter those arguments, except to say that I am trying to respond to facts. For example, it is a fact that masked government agents are abducting people off the streets without warrants and detaining them without any semblance of due process. That is evidence of authoritarianism, not democracy. That is evidence of a failure to follow the Constitution which requires due process. I want  to launch our congregational year with joy, pride and excitement. I really don’t want to talk about authoritarianism. But it is our reality now. It is shaping our congregational life, and it requires a faithful response. (I note that our Unitarian Universalist General Assembly passed an Action of Immediate Witness this past June in Baltimore entitled “Faithful Defiance of Authoritarianism, a Call to Action: Reaffirming Our Covenant for Democracy and Freedom.” ) So, in imagining the congregational year, I understand it is my task (though certainly not mine alone) to articulate—first to myself and then to you—what it means to stay true to our Unitarian Universalist principles, values and traditions as a liberal religious congregation in the midst authoritarianism.           Hint: there is nothing in our principles or values or our Unitarian and Universalist traditions of theological and spiritual freedom, innovation and searching, our traditions that center human dignity, our traditions that align us with human rights and social and environmental justice movements—nothing!—that would prompt us to comply with authoritarianism. Nothing. Everything about our principles, values and traditions calls us to resist authoritarianism.           And given the political assassination earlier this week, I feel compelled to say what should go without saying: our principles, values and traditions call us to engage in nonviolent  resistance. I am convinced violence only leads to more violence. In resisting authoritarianism, the central question for me is how we do it with love, compassion and empathy. I said talking about it is the one thing I really don’t want to do this morning. There’s some nuance here. Some of it is emotional. As I’ve had time to pause, reflect, read, volunteer and pray during my vacation and study leave, I’ve realized that I, like many of you, have big feelings about the rise of authoritarianism in our beloved country and the weakening of our (admittedly imperfect) democratic institutions.  It’s hard to talk about it when the feelings are so big. I am grieving. I am angry. I am frightened. I am also mindful that my fear as a middle-aged, upper middle-class, white, cis man is not the same as the fear of those directly targeted by the new administration’s policies: my transgender and queer siblings whose identities are being erased, my siblings of color whose history is being erased, my immigrant siblings who are being disappeared, my low-income siblings facing the loss of Medicaid and SNAP, my siblings with disabilities, my siblings who’ve lost jobs due to federal budget cuts and the economic impact of the tariffs. Even so, my fear and all my feelings are still big and, frankly, I am not entirely sure how to bring them into the pulpit. I don’t want to rage in this pulpit, especially when so many of you come here in search of respite and peace. I don’t want to weep uncontrollably in this pulpit. I don’t want to panic in this pulpit. But I feel all these feelings. AND THEY ARE BIG. I would much rather feel the joy, pride and excitement of our homecoming, our new congregational year, our beloved community. I will get there. We will get there. More nuance: Through my engagement in the wider community as your minister since 2003, through the engagement of our Social Justice / Anti-Oppression Committee with coalitions like the Greater Hartford Interfaith Action Alliance, Connecticut for All and HUSKY for Immigrants, through the engagement of our Sustainable Living Committee with organizations like the Interreligious Eco-Justice Network, through our work at Verplanck Elementary School, through our work with the Manchester Interfaith Social Action Committee—and much more—our congregation is part of a loosely-organized statewide progressive advocacy structure. This structure has evolved over decades. Its goal is to build political, social and economic power that can be used to make progressive change in Connecticut. Over the years, as participants in this structure, we’ve organized to win better access to safe, affordable healthcare, affordable housing, affordable childcare, excellent and well-funded k-12 and higher education, tax equity, criminal justice reform, marriage equality, the addition of ‘gender identity’ to the state anti-discrimination statutes, environmental justice, etc. I’m very proud of the victories we’ve won, and very mindful of where we’ve fallen short, what the barriers to success are and where we need to build more power. But here’s the rub: this loosely-organized statewide structure is not designed to resist an authoritarian federal government. We’ve never imagined, for example, that a significant portion of the approximately 6 billion federal Medicaid dollars Connecticut receives every year could disappear overnight. We’re not ready for that kind of health care catastrophe. We’re not structured to address it. Not every recipient will lose benefits, but what if half do? What happens if four or five hundred thousand neighbors lose access to health care? What happens to them? What happens to emergency rooms? What happens to the hospitals that will close without those Medicaid dollars coming to the state? What happens to the associated businesses, the doctor groups, the nurses, the PCAs, the nursing homes, the health care unions? And that’s just the Medicaid question. There are hundreds, if not thousands of ways authoritarianism is manifesting. There are new expressions of it every day: firing federal officials deemed uncooperative or disloyal, recission of funds Congress has already appropriated, deployments of federal troops to American cities, ICE abductions, supportive Supreme Court shadow docket decisions with no explanations, disregard for long-standing scientific consensus, decimation of the Centers for Disease Control and the National Institutes of Health, halting of renewable energy projects, threats against the media, threats against universities. People complain that the Democratic Party has been ineffectual, but I argue that pretty much all of us who care about the survival of our democracy have been ineffectual, not because we aren’t committed—we are—but because the underlying nation-wide organizational structure needed to resist a genuinely authoritarian executive doesn’t yet exist. It will come into existence, of that I am confident. But it’s not here yet. When I say I don’t want to talk about it, what I mean is I don’t want to spend significant time and energy in the pulpit exploring all the specific ways the authoritarian government in Washington, DC is undermining our democracy. It would be easy to do that, though I am not sure how much you would learn from me that you don’t already know; and more importantly, we’d be no closer to discerning our place in emerging structures designed to nonviolently resist authoritarianism. That’s what I want to preach about. What new structures are emerging? Where do we fit in? How do we contribute? That’s the discernment I want us to engage in this congregational year. That’s what I want to preach about. I don’t want Executive branch cruelty, racism, lies and corruption setting my preaching agenda. Over the decades we have built a strong, thriving, vibrant, growing, caring, fun, creative, principled, justice-seeking, earth- and land-stewarding Unitarian Universalist community here atop Elm Hill on the Manchester/Vernon line, up above the Hockanum River . We’ve served as a beacon of liberal religious principles and values, compassion, service and love for two generations. We have a lot to offer the emerging resistance movement. I want to preach about that. I want our congregational year to be about that. We have deep and always-deepening institutional relationships in Manchester and across the state: Power Up CT, MLAC, AABAC, GHIAA, Moral Monday CT, Connecticut for All, CT Students for a Dream, Hartford Deportation Defense, HUSKY for Immigrants, IREJN, SEIU 1199, 32BJ, AFL CIO CT, Equality CT, Working Families Party, Third Act, She Leads Justice, Universal Health Care Foundation. And we’re always getting to know new organizations, one of my favorites being Kamora’s Cultural Corner in Hartford. Don’t worry if you don’t recognize all the initials. Just know that everyone in the structure is trying to figure out how to conduct their work in ways that effectively build a nonviolent resistance movement. I want to preach about that. I want our congregational year to be about that. Then there’s the role this congregation plays in keeping each of us healthy, whole, and hopeful; the role it plays in reducing our anxiety, in calming our bodies, in soothing our souls, in accompanying us in our sadness and grief, in validating our anger. Some of my studies this summer looked at the ways stress and trauma get lodged in our bodies, and how simple practices like breathing, singing, chanting, humming, and rocking back and forth can help dislodge it, making healing more accessible. (See My Grandmother's Hands by Rezmaa Menakem and Liberated to the Bone, by Susan Raffo .) When we engage in such practices in groups they are even more potent than when we engage individually. So I’ve been expanding my understanding of the purpose of worship. I am beginning to understand worship more clearly as an invitation to calm and dislodge the stress and trauma that are part and parcel of living under authoritarianism. Let this be a house of peace, a house of respite, a house of healing in trying times. I want to preach about that! I want our congregational year to be about that. Some beloved little one said it well.... Now, imagine, as I’ve heard many of you say, things get worse before they get better. Imagine a few years from now, people out in the wider community are tired, angry, fearful, panicking, grieving. Imagine people are struggling. Imagine people are feeling lonely and isolated, distrustful, not able to talk openly and honestly with their neighbors. They know something needs to change, something needs to happen, but they’re just not sure what it is. And all along, we’ve been doing our work as a spiritual community, figuring out how to be true to our principles and values in public; figuring out how we fit into the movement to end authoritarian rule in the United States. All along we’ve been caring for each other, loving each other, breaking bread with each other, singing, chanting, humming and rocking back and forth with each other, facing our fears together, expressing our rage together, crying our tears together, calming our bodies together, settling in, relaxing, breathing together, building up our strength, our resilience and our resolve together, remaining hopeful together, being in the struggle together. In the midst of authoritarianism, people need what I’m describing. People will want to belong. I want to preach about that. I want our congregational year to be about that! Amen and blessed be.

Gathering Music (Mary Bopp)   Welcome and Announcements (Rev. Josh Pawelek)   Centering   Prelude “Give Yourself to Love” by Kate Wolf Nancy Madar, guitar & vocals Joe Madar, vocals   Chalice Lighting and Opening Words “One Love” by the Rev. Hope Johnson   Opening Hymn #1053 “How Could Anyone?” By Libby Roderick   How could anyone ever tell you you were anything less than beautiful? How could anyone ever tell you you were less than whole? How could anyone fail to notice that your loving is a miracle? How deeply you’re connected to my soul.   Time for All Ages   Musical Meditation (Mary Bopp)   Joys and Concerns   Musical Response “Prayer for Connection” Words by Cyndi Krupa Music by Mary Bopp   May peace, light and love Infuse all living beings With a feeling of connection And knowing we are one.   Offering Our September Community Outreach Ministry recipients are the Manchester Latino Affairs Council and She Leads Justice.   Manchester Latino Affairs Council  The Manchester Latino Affairs Council (M.L.A.C.) was established in January of 2007.  Its current mission is to address social issues with a focus on diversity, inclusivity and equality within Manchester’s Latino community.   She Leads Justice She Leads Justice advocates for under-resourced, marginalized women in Connecticut. They work to close the civil legal justice gap and to create state policy for economic security. Formerly known as the Connecticut Women's Education and Legal Fund, their work supports women who identify as cisgender and transgender, and non-binary individuals, as well as people of all marginalized gender identities.   Offering Music "Song for Judith" By Judy Collins Nancy Madar, guitar & vocals Sermon “Imagining a Congregational Year” Rev. Josh Pawelek   Closing Song #1057 “Go Lifted Up” By Mortimer B. Barron   Go lifted up, Love bless your way, moonlight, starlight guide your journey into peace and the brightness of day.   Extinguishing the Chalice “The Flame in Our Hearts” Words by Josh Pawelek, Music by Mary Bopp   The flame in our hearts, never ceases burning.   Closing Circle (with music by Nancy Madar) May faith in the spirit of life And hope for the community of earth And love of the light in each other Be ours now and in all the days to come.

Gathering Music (Mary Bopp) Welcome, Announcements (Rev. Josh Pawelek) Centering (Emmy Galbraith) Prelude “Anthem” by Leonard Cohen Led by the Homecoming Singers Forget your perfect offering, (forget your perfect offering) Ring the bells that you can ring, (ring the bells that you can ring) There is a crack in everything, (there is a crack in everything) That’s how, (that’s how) The light, (the light) Gets in, (All:) That’s how the light gets in Chalice Lighting and Opening Words (Rev. Josh Pawelek) “Gather” by James Crews Introduction to the Service (Emmy Galbraith) Opening Hymn #1028 Fire of Commitment Words: Mary Katherine Morn and Jason Shelton Music: Jason Shelton From the light of days remembered burns a beacon bright and clear Guiding hands and hearts and spirits into faith set free from fear. When the fire of commitment sets our mind and soul a blaze When our hunger and our passion meet to call us on our way When we live with deep assurance of the flame that burns within, Then our promise finds fulfillment and our future can begin. From the stories of our living rings a song both brave and free, Calling pilgrims still to witness to the life of liberty. When the fire of commitment sets our mind and soul a blaze When our hunger and our passion meet to call us on our way When we live with deep assurance of the flame that burns within, Then our promise finds fulfillment and our future can begin. From the dreams of youthful vision comes a new, prophetic voice, Which demands a deeper justice built by our courageous choice When the fire of commitment sets our mind and soul a blaze When our hunger and our passion meet to call us on our way When we live with deep assurance of the flame that burns within, Then our promise finds fulfillment and our future can begin. Back to School Slideshow Blessing of the Backpacks Joys & Concerns Musical Meditation (Mary Bopp) Offering Recipients: The September Community Outreach Ministry recipients are the Manchester Latino Affairs Council and She Leads Justice. She Leads Justice She Leads Justice advocates for under-resourced, marginalized women in Connecticut. They work to close the civil legal justice gap and to create state policy for economic security. Formerly known as the Connecticut Women's Education and Legal Fund, their work supports women who identify as cisgender and transgender, and non-binary individuals, as well as people of all marginalized gender identities.   Manchester Latino Affairs Council   The Manchester Latino Affairs Council (M.L.A.C.) was established in January of 2007.  Its current mission is to address social issues with a focus on diversity, inclusivity and equality within Manchester’s Latino community. Offering Music “Highland Cathedral”  By Ulrich Roever and Michael Korb Benjamin Elzerman (Scottish Bagpipes) Vera Elzerman (Snare Drum) UU Principles & Values   UUSE Covenant Chant “Love is the Spirit of This Church” words by James Vila Blake, music by Mary Bopp Love is the spirit of this church and service its law. This is our great covenant: To dwell together in peace.  Love is the spirit of this church and service its law. To seek the truth in love, and to help one another.  Love is the spirit of this church and service its law. Reflection (Emmy Galbraith & Rev. Josh Pawelek) Closing Hymn #118 This Little Light of Mine Words & music: African American spiritual This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine. Ev’rywhere I go, I’m gonna let it shine. Ev’rywhere I go, I’m gonna let it shine. Ev’rywhere I go, I’m gonna let it shine. Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine. Building up a world, I’m gonna let it shine. Building up a world, I’m gonna let it shine. Building up a world, I’m gonna let it shine. Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine. Extinguishing the Chalice Closing Circle May faith in the spirit of life And hope for the community of earth And love of the light in each other Be ours now, and in all the days to come.

Gathering Music "Ambient #8" by Dan Thompson Welcome (Vivian Carlson) Prelude "Here Together" by David M. Glasgow Opening Words (Rev. Dr. Molly Housh Gordon) Chalice Lighting (Gretchen Maune & Members of the UU Church of Columbia, MO) Story from Through the Mickle Woods by Valiska Gregory read by Rev. Dr. Leon Dunkley, Jr. Interlude "We Are Weaving Our Lives" by Alexa Sunshine Rose performed by beheld Centering Moment (Jamila Batchelder, Director of Religious Education & Violet Vonder Haar, Director of Music Ministry, UU Church of Columbia, MO) Prayer & Moment of Contemplation (Rev. Joan Javier-Duval) Reading "Shaking the Tree" by Jeanne Lohmann read by Rev. Jordinn Nelson Long Anthem "Weave and Spin" by Starhawk performed by Lea Morris Sermon "Weaving Our Lives" Rev. Dr. Molly Housh Gordon Hymn "Circle Round for Freedom" by Linda Hirschhorn led by Natasha Steinmacher and Francisco Ruiz Offering: Continuing our practice of sharing our gifts with the community beyond our walls, fifty percent of today's Sunday plate cash collection will be shared with The TLC Foundation. The TLC Foundation is a private, non-profit transitional living center in Manchester dedicated to providing a safe, structured home for local children and youth who, through no fault of their own, cannot live with their families. They remain enrolled in Manchester Public Schools and receive the care and stability they need until they can be safely reunited with family or transition to independent living. Offertory Music "Hold On" by Lola performed by beheld Benediction (Rev. Dr. Molly Housh Gordon) Extinguishing the Chalice & Closing Circle Postlude "Weaving Our Songs" Arranged by Paul Winchester Music by David M. Glasgow, Alexa Sunshine Rose, Carolyn McDade and Starhawk

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