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Over the last week of November, a story on social media caught my attention. The Rev. Ben Boswell, the white, senior minister of Myers Park Baptist Church in Charlotte, NC was abruptly forced to resign from his job after nine years of service. This happened two weeks after he preached a fiery sermon on November 10th decrying the election of Donald Trump as President of the United States. Full disclosure: I’ve watched the sermon. I think it’s phenomenal. There’s certainly some overlap with the words I preached on November 10th. If I had to compare my post-election sermon to his (note: ministers never compare themselves to other ministers), mine had a more explicit pastoral dimension–i.e., let’s make sure we’re taking care of ourselves, of each other, and of the most vulnerable–while Boswell’s sermon is a clarion call to action. About the election he says, “don’t let it cause you despair, let it mobilize you.” He borrows language from the German Lutheran pastor-theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer who, in response to the rise of Nazism in the 1930s, famously said the church is called “ not just to bandage the victims under the wheel, but to jam a spoke in the wheel itself.” [Check out here and here for further reporting on and responses to Rev. Boswell's resignation.] Boswell’s post-election sermon wasn’t the reason he was forced to resign, though it may have been the proverbial straw. Behind the scenes, the Board of Deacons was concerned that the church was losing members and money. Weekly attendance had plunged from 350 to 150 people over the last decade. They talked about needing more butts in the seats, and contended that Rev. Boswell well-focused on racial and social justice, but not on tending to the entire church community (an argument he disputes). I had forgotten about the story, but then two weeks ago National Public Radio reported it . Many of you heard the NPR story. I know this because five or six of you sent me the link to it. You send me links to articles and books all the time, but it’s rare that five or six of you send the same link at the same time. Interestingly, nobody said why they were sending it. What should your minister think when a statistically significant number of congregants sends the link to an article about another minister losing his job for saying and doing things similar to what your minister often says and does? Just wondering. The NPR piece identifies a dynamic among some white Myers Park members that is present, though expressed very differently, in our congregation; in Unitarian Universalist congregations more generally; and I suspect in virtually all historically white mainline Protestant Denominations and even some more conservative or evangelical denominations; not to mention in k-12 education, in colleges and universities, in businesses large and small, in health care, throughout the nonprofit world, in community groups–I see it every week in letters to the editor in the Glastonbury Citizen and other local newspapers. This dynamic echoes the larger, national debate over Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (DEI) programs, especially in liberal or left-leaning institutions and schools. Given the Trump administration’s rapid dismantling of federal DEI programming, it seems like a good moment to look more closely at this dynamic.  The NPR piece is entitled “Pastor pushed out after parishioners complain about focus on racial justice.” The reporter interviews members of the congregation. There’s a mix of views. Some love Rev. Boswell’s focus on racial justice and say they feel betrayed by the Deacons’ action. But one of the Deacons who voted for Boswell’s resignation paraphrased what he said he kept hearing from disgruntled church members. It boils down to this: "I am tired of being indicted because I am white.” (There are also references to too much focus on GLBTQ and immigrations issues.) Our ministry theme for February is inclusivity.  Last Sunday I shared some of the history of the Unitarian Universalist Association’s efforts since its founding in 1961 to continually transform itself into a more inclusive faith–inclusive of women in leadership, people of color, gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, non-binary and queer people, people with disabilities, people of non-European cultural and ethnic heritage, poor people, immigrants, refugees, etc. I also said it’s no secret that “over the last decade, the Unitarian Universalist Association–its staff and volunteer leadership, many of the clergy (myself included) and the General Assembly–have been exploring and articulating in earnest the ways in which current UU culture and institutional structures actually limit our inclusivity…. Now things are changing. Certainly the new Article 2 of the UUA bylaws emerged, at least in part, in response to this desire to address those institutional structures and aspects of our culture that work against greater inclusivity. And as things change, inevitably some feel alienated. Certainly some, if not many members and friends of this congregation have felt alienated by trends in the larger world of the Unitarian Universalist Association these past few years.”  This alienation is multifaceted and complex, but one strand of it aligns with the sentiment expressed by the Myers Park Deacon: “I am tired of being indicted because I am white.” As far as I know, nobody here has said they feel “indicted,” but people have expressed a variety of related sentiments: If I say the wrong thing, if I do the wrong thing, if I disagree with or criticize a recommended approach to addressing racism–especially if I criticize the UUA’s approaches–or if I don’t follow the new Article 2’s covenantal language around dismantling racism, then I’m called a racist.  I’ve heard many versions of this concern expressed over the past two years. I’ve heard it at our many forums on Article 2 prior to last summer’s General Assembly vote. I heard it during the discernment process last fall. I’ve heard it in conversations about the meaning of terms in the UUA’s new bylaw Article 2 like covenant, accountability, pluralism and even the notion of love at the center. I want to be clear: I hear this concern. I hear the sense of alienation that some express. I take it seriously. And I affirm: it is an understandable reason to feel alienated.  I am also confident there is a pathway for us as a congregation to honor that sense of alienation–because it is real–while simultaneously continuing the long, slow, faithful work of building antiracist, multicultural, beloved community here at UUSE. I’m confident in part because this week our UUA Discernment Task Force released its final report to the congregation. [For those who are unfamiliar with the Task Force, their goal is to aid our congregation in determining what our institutional relationship to the Unitarian Universalist Association ought to be.] I want to draw your attention to the report’s fifth recommendation. The Task Force writes: “The UUA efforts around anti-racism were a key concern during the [Article 2] process. This indicates we could benefit from a series of conversations around approaches to anti-racism and our UU history of anti-racism activities.” I hope that, whatever form these conversations ultimately take, we’ll have robust participation.  For the sake of balance–and for the sake of inclusion of non-majority voices and feelings–there was another really important quote near the end of the NPR piece.  A black member of the congregation talks about how important Rev. Boswell’s ministry was to him, how Rev. Boswell “created a wonderful, welcoming community.” Now this member feels betrayed. The reporter asked him about “the fact that some white congregants said they felt beaten down by Boswell's continued emphasis on social and racial justice.” He responded that “as a Black man he [feels] beaten down every day.” There’s a critical distinction here which I don’t want us to ignore, in part because our efforts to grow as an inclusive congregation hinge on us understanding it. In my work as an anti-racism educator and organizer with the UUA in the late 90s and early 2000s, and as an antiracism consultant to congregations, UUA committees and seminaries over the ensuing years, and in the many conversations on race and racism we’ve had here over the years, I have always tried to be attentive and sensitive to the difficulties many white people– myself included–experience in these conversations, especially when we are asked to look closely at ourselves, at the ways we’ve been  socialized, and at the various privileges whiteness offers. I’ve not always succeeded at that, but it’s been my approach. One of my supervisors at the UUA referred to me as the ‘soft sell,’ meaning I didn’t indict people or beat them down for being white. I just tried gently, softly, kindly but persistently to bring people along to a fuller understanding of the power of race and racism over their lives. This is still true.  But regardless of that, always front and center in my mind and in my approach as a trainer, consultant, pastor and organizer was and is the recognition that the discomfort white people feel when participating in these conversations simply does not equate to the experience of living in the United States of America as a person of color. This is not to say that all white people have it easy. They don’t; and in my assessment, the failure of liberals, progressives and the Democratic Party to take the economic struggles of white communities seriously is one of the reasons Donald Trump was elected president. But that doesn’t erase this country’s history and continuing legacies of racism, white supremacy and settler colonialism. I have full confidence that as a congregation you recognize this distinction. And that’s why I believe there is a pathway for us to continue the long, slow, faithful work of building antiracist, multicultural, beloved community. Yes, it’s important to acknowledge that in some instances in Unitarian Universalist settings, people have been called out for racism in unhelpful ways. Yes, there have been instances of unskillful training, lousy pedagogy, over-generalizations, historical inaccuracies, and rhetoric replacing keen analysis in UU settings. Yes, there have been unskillful uses of certain resources such as Robin DiAngelo’s White Fragility or the “Characteristics of White Supremacy Culture,” originally created by Kenneth Jones and Tema Okun. For that matter, yes, there have been unskillful explanations and uses of the term ‘white supremacy culture’ such that UUs feel our congregations are being equated with  the KKK and similar  organizations. I assure you that isn’t happening, but no wonder some feel alienated.  Yes to all of that, and we cannot forget that the discomfort white people feel when participating in these conversations simply does not equate to the experience of living in the United States of America as a person of color.  There are many paths to greater inclusivity. I want to speak briefly about one of the paths that has been central to my ministry. I have made it my practice as a white minister serving a mostly white congregation–which I deeply love–to listen and respond–as best as I can–to the stories people of color tell about their experiences, whether here at UUSE or out in the wider community. I have made it my practice to listen and respond to people of color’s vision for what antiracist, multicultural beloved community looks and feels like here and in the wider community. And I have made it my practice to listen for the opportunities to engage in people of color’s justice struggles. So, when the African American and Black Affairs Council or the Manchester Latino Affairs Council asks for our support, I do everything in my power to be supportive, and I invite you to join in that support. When Power Up CT asks for our support; when Moral Monday CT asks for our support; when Dr. Kearney who directs the Department for Race and Equity at Manchester Public Schools asks for our support; when the HUSKY for Immigrants Campaign asks for our support; when Hartford Deportation Defense asks for our support; when opportunities to support immigrant families come to our attention; when the national UU people of color organizations, like Diverse and Revolutionary UU Multicultural Ministries ask for our support: we have a history of responding with support as best we can. We have a history of joining in solidarity with these various efforts.  I’m really proud of this history. I have faith that over the long-run, this practice of listening, responding, and working in solidarity is one of many roads to a more inclusive faith community. My sincere hope is that we will explore all the roads–all the methods and approaches–to building an inclusive faith; that we will figure out which ones work best for us; and then, together, continue this journey of inclusivity or, as Unitarian Universalists used to say in the early years of my ministry, this Journey Toward Wholeness. Amen and blessed be.

Gathering Music (Mary Bopp) Welcome and Announcements (Rev. Josh Pawelek) Centering Prelude "Swimming to the Other Side" By Pat Humphries Jennifer Richard, vocals and guitar Chalice Lighting and Opening Words "Leaves" By Nicki Giovanni Opening Hymn #1023 "Building Bridges" Words: The women of Greenham Common peace occupation in England, 1983 Music: Contemporary English Quaker chant 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. Welcoming New Members - Margo van Kuren and Hinda Handschu Introductions (Membership Committee co-chairs) The Charge (Minister) As you take up membership in the Unitarian Universalist Society East, I charge you to share with us who you are. Share your creativity, your experiences, your questions, your doubts, your beliefs, and all your discoveries of life's meaning. I charge you to shake us up with your ideas, to stir us up with your conscience, to inspire us with your actions, and to stimulate our hopes with your dreams of what life can be. Congregational Welcome (Congregation) We welcome you as companions in the search for truth and meaning. We invite you to share in our mission of caring for one another, encouraging each other in spiritual growth, working for justice and peace in the wider community, and living in harmony with the earth. We join our gifts with yours, trusting in the power of community to bring freedom, healing and love. New Member Affirmation (New members) We join the Unitarian Universalist Society East out of a desire and willingness to participate in a liberal religious congregation. We pledge to share our time, energy and gifts; to diligently seek our spiritual truths; and to strengthen the bonds of community. Responsive Hymn "What is this Church?" words adapted from Eugene Sander Music by Jean Sibelius What is this church? A place of love and gladness. Where all may meet, to seek the common good. A source of strength, to face each doubt and sadness. Where every dream, is known and understood. What is this church? Ask those who came before, And found themselves, by crossing through its door. Joys and Concerns Musical Meditation Offering We do not gather our gifts only for ourselves but to share with the larger community. Continuing our practice of sharing our gifts with the community beyond our walls, fifty percent of our Sunday plate collections for the month of February will be shared with Manchester's African American and Black Affairs Council or AABAC. AABAC is a community-based organization whose mission is to uphold all aspects of the lived experiences of Black people in Manchester through advocacy, education, the arts and community events. Offering Music "All Ye Refugees" Jenn Richard, guitar and vocals By Sandra McCracken Sermon "On Inclusion, Part II" Rev. Josh Pawelek Closing Hymn #323 "Break Not the Circle" Music by Fred Kaan Words by Tom Benjamin Break not the circle of enabling love where people grow, forgiven and forgiving; break not that 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 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.

“Welcome home, gather ‘round / All ye refugees, come in” – words from the Christian singer-songwriter, Sandra McCracken. I suspect she’s channeling the ancient Hebrew moral principle expressed in one of God’s many commandments to the Israelites after their Egyptian exodus: “You shall not wrong or oppress the alien, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt;” expressed even more succinctly in the words of Jesus: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”   Our ministry theme for February is inclusivity . I’m going to preach two sermons on this theme. As you may anticipate, I have a lot to say. It is no secret that asking and attempting to answer questions about inclusivity within our congregation and within Unitarian Universalism more generally–questions about our welcome, our hospitality, our culture, our ways of navigating human differences and the complexities of human identities, our ways of forging and sustaining relationships in the wider community, our ways of building the beloved community–all of it is foundational to my call to ministry.  What I know to be true about Unitarian Universalists is that we want and expect to grow an inclusive faith. We want to offer an expansive welcome and robust hospitality; we want and expect to be generous, caring and compassionate toward each other, toward visitors and newcomers, toward strangers, toward the other, toward those who think, feel and believe differently, toward those who live on society’s margins, toward the immigrant, the alien, the refugee. In words adapted from the ancient Sufi poet Rumi, we sing: “Come, Come whoever you are, wander, worshipper, lover of leaving, ours is no caravan of despair. Come, yet again, come.” This desire for an inclusive faith lives at the heart of our first Unitarian Universalist principle, “the inherent worth and dignity of every person,” our third principle, “acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth in our congregations,” and our seventh principle, “respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part.” It lives at the heart of the new Unitarian Universalist values: generosity, pluralism, justice, transformation, interdependence and equity, with a deep and abiding love at the center.  We want and expect to grow an inclusive faith. I know this to be true. This wanting, this expecting has always animated and guided my ministry., and I have no doubt it always will. “Welcome home, gather ‘round / All ye refugees, come in.” It’s also no secret that my formation as a minister in the 1990s included extensive training as an anti-racism educator and organizer. That training has deeply shaped who I am, not only as a minister but as a human being. I wouldn’t be the person I am without that training. I wouldn’t be the minister you have put your trust in to guide you as a congregation over these past 23 years without that training. It has shaped and continues to shape my approach to questions of inclusivity, welcoming, hospitality, engagement with the wider community and social justice activism.  It’s also no secret–and this is the final non-secret I will share–that over the last decade, though really since 2017, the Unitarian Universalist Association–its staff and volunteer leadership, many of the clergy (myself included) and the General Assembly–have been exploring and articulating in earnest the ways in which current Unitarian Universalist culture and institutional structures actually limit our inclusivity, limit our welcome, particularly our welcome to people of color, queer people and people with disabilities. Now things are changing. Certainly the new Article 2 of the Unitarian Universalist Association bylaws emerged , at least in part , in response to this desire to address those institutional structures and aspects of our culture that work against greater inclusivity. And as things change, inevitably some feel alienated. Certainly many members and friends of this congregation have felt alienated by trends in the larger world of the Unitarian Universalist Association these past few years. I want to speak more directly to that sense of alienation in next week’s sermon, in part because I am hopeful, though not quite 100% positive, that we will be able to share the final report of our UUA Discernment Taskforce with the congregation later this week. There’s a recommendation in the report that in my mind speaks directly the way anti-racism has been centered in national Unitarian Universalist life and what it actually means. As prelude to that, I want to review some UU history without which  I can’t understand–let alone explain–who we are as a people of faith at this moment in time. The changes we’re experiencing have longstanding roots.  From the earliest days of the UUA, which was founded in 1961 through the merger of the American Unitarian Association and the Universalist Church of America, individual UUs, UU congregations, and our UUA headquarters in Boston have been wrestling with issues of inclusivity. Racially, ours is a white denomination, so there were huge questions in the beginning about how to be more inclusive to people of color. Like most mainline Protestant denominations in the 1960s, ours was male-centered. I don’t have exact numbers, but out of the approximately 1,000 ordained UU ministers in the 1960s, 12-15 of them were women. GLBTQ people were present but essentially invisible in that era. People with disabilities, present but invisible. Poor people, present but invisible. But at least some of our forebears in that era were aware of these exclusivities. Since our founding, one of our central questions has always been, “how do we make our congregations and our culture more welcoming to and inclusive of people from marginalized social groups, i.e., people of color, women, people with disabilities, children and youth, elders, eventually gay and lesbian people, and in later years, bisexual, transgender and non-binary people? A deeper question has always been both implicit and explicit: how do we make our historically white (male, heterosexual, etc.) congregations accountable to people in these marginalized groups and their institutions? How do we make space? How do we share power? How do we provide funding? How do we center voices from the margins? Although we may ask these questions differently today, these are not new. They’ve been with the UUA since its founding. March of 1965 was an important moment. As I described last month, Martin Luther King, Jr. called for clergy from around the country to join him for the voting rights march from Selma to Montgomery, AL. More than 500 Unitarian Universalist clergy and lay people heeded the call. For me, this is a shining example of antiracist accountability.  There were also abject failures of antiracist accountability during those early years. I’ve spoken elsewhere about the so-called Black Empowerment controversy of the early 1970s–which some have renamed the White Entitlement controversy. Suffice to say, failures to deliver on financial promises to the UU Black Affairs Council plunged the UUA into a crisis over race and racism. Black UUs and their allies felt betrayed and abandoned. Many left and never returned. Institutional change has never been easy.  In the late 1970s Unitarian Universalism experienced powerful internal organizing aimed at reducing sex-based discrimination within our faith. The 1977 General Assembly’s “Women in Religion” resolution opened the door to women having equal access to leadership positions in all aspects of UUA life, including theological education, ordination, and ministerial roles. Although that work is still ongoing, the initial decades of antisexist organizing were so successful that by the mid 1990s, the UUA had achieved gender parity among its clergy. As far as I know, the UUA was the first mainline denomination in the world to achieve gender parity among its clergy. It brings joyful, proud tears to my eyes as I speak these words. I fondly remember dear colleagues (some deceased, some still living) who participated in or led that work of smashing the glass ceiling in UUism. Knowing them, I am immensely proud to call myself a Unitarian Universalist. We all can be proud of this success.  Similarly, during the 1980s and early 1990s Unitarian Universalism experienced powerful internal organizing aimed at educating congregations about the realities of gay and lesbian life, how to welcome gay and lesbian people into our congregations, into congregational leadership, and into the ranks of the clergy. (The work expanded to include transgender and non-binary people in later years.) Oftentimes we refer to that organizing by the title of a signature UU educational curriculum, The Welcoming Congregation . That work, also, is far from complete. But the fruits of its success are abundantly clear in the high numbers of GLBTQ+ people who participate in UU congregations today as members, leaders and clergy. I believe the United Church of Christ reached key milestones in ordaining gay and lesbian people and launching its ‘Open and Affirming’ ministries before the UUA, but we were right there with them, among the first in the world, to prioritize and fund a commitment to dismantling institutional heterosexism and welcoming gay and lesbian people. It brings joyful, proud tears to my eyes to name this success out loud. I fondly remember dear colleagues (some deceased, some still living) who participated in or led the Welcoming Congregation  work in its early years. Knowing them, knowing their stories, I am immensely proud to call myself a Unitarian Universalist. We all can be proud of this success.  I started working at the UUA in the spring of 1992. Almost immediately I noticed a robust conversion about racial and cultural diversity. I heard the argument that we could no longer rest on our  Civil Rights movement laurels.  Racism was still with us, and Unitarian Universalism was still too racially and culturally White. That June, the General Assembly passed a resolution entitled “Racial and Cultural Diversity in Unitarian Universalism.” It  affirmed a vision of a racially diverse and multicultural Unitarian Universalism.” However, the architects of that resolution understood that having a vision is not the same thing as having a strategy. They understood that achieving the vision required a strategy for anti-racist educating, training and organizing. So, in 1997, the General Assembly passed a new resolution entitled “Toward an Antiracist Unitarian Universalist Association,” which called on UUs “to examine carefully their own conscious and unconscious racism as participants in a racist society, and the effect that racism has on all our lives, regardless of color.” It called on the [UUA] and its congregations “to develop an ongoing process for the comprehensive institutionalization of anti-racism and multiculturalism, understanding that whether or not a group becomes multi-racial, there is always the opportunity to become anti-racist.” It called on   all UU leaders, ministers, religious educators, governing boards, [UUA] staff, theological schools, and future General Assemblies “to engage in ongoing anti-racism training.” And it encouraged UUs “to enter into relationships of sustained engagement with all people of color with a goal of opening up authentic dialogue [on] race and racism. Such dialogue should also include how to appropriately honor and affirm the cultural traditions of … people of color.” At that same General Assembly, delegates also passed a resolution entitled “Accessibility for Persons with Disabilities,” which called on the UUA to undertake “an aggressive plan to address accessibility within the Association for people with disabilities,” and to act as an advocate “for the human and civil rights of people with disabilities both within i[the UUA] and globally.” I was there in 1992. I was there in 1997.  Mindful of the changes that were already underway in terms of women’s leadership and the welcome to gay and lesbian people, I watched our faith, using our democratic process, make profound commitments to increasing inclusivity in our national offices, our congregations, our culture, and among our religious professionals. I watched our faith make these commitments to the dignity and worthiness of all people. I fondly remember dear colleagues (some deceased, some still living) who participated in or led this work. Knowing them, knowing their stories, I am immensely proud to call myself a Unitarian Universalist.  As an aside, this tradition of passing resolutions to express our collective desire for a more inclusive faith continues to this day. At the most recent General Assembly this past June, delegates overwhelmingly passed a resolution entitled “Affirming Transgender, Nonbinary, Intersex and Gender Diverse People is a Fundamental Expression of UU Religious Values.” which concludes “We hereby pledge our collective faithful efforts to the full affirmation and celebration of transgender, nonbinary, intersex and gender diverse people within our congregations and the wider community, and uphold this commitment as a fundamental obligation revealed by our principles and values.” At some point I plan to dedicate an entire service to exploring this resolution.  Peering back to the 1990s, those resolutions on racial and cultural diversity, antiracism, and accessibility were starting points for what we then called the Journey Toward Wholeness. It’s a long journey. The work of increasing inclusivity has been immensely difficult. It has gone more slowly than many of us had hoped in the 1990s–though we did talk about a 30-year plan then. Despite the challenges and set-backs we’ve encountered over the years, despite mistakes and unskillfulness, despite tension and conflict, I still know this truth: We Unitarian Universalists want and expect to grow an inclusive faith. We want to offer an expansive welcome, a robust hospitality; we want and expect to be generous, caring and compassionate toward each other, toward visitors and newcomers, toward strangers, toward the other, toward those who think, feel and believe differently from us, toward those who live on society’s margins, toward the immigrant, the alien, the refugee. It’s a beautiful vision and we are still called to pursue it.  Amen and blessed be.

Early February GHIAA Legislative Issue Updates UUSE works with the Greater Hartford Interfaith Action Alliance on a variety of social justice issues. Here are some updates on issues GHIAA and UUSE are addressing in the 2025 legislative session. Expansion of Just Cause Eviction Protection The State of Connecticut currently extends Just Cause Eviction protection only to people with disabilities and people 62 or older. Other people may be evicted for no reason at all. A measure being proposed during this legislative session would expand eviction protections   to all   renters in buildings with more than five units. Landlords would have to provide a reason — for example, a lease violation or a failure to pay rent — in order to evict someone. The Connecticut Mirror  (Jan 23, 2025) noted: Supporters say the measure would protect tenants who complain about conditions on the property and prevent situations in which a new property owner might evict multiple tenants in order to raise rental rates. They also said with rising rents and a lack of housing across the state — particularly housing that’s affordable to people with low incomes — eviction protections could help keep people housed. In late January, the Housing Committee voted to support the concept of Just Cause and drafted a committee bill on this subject. We anticipate that there will be a public hearing for this bill in February or March with opportunities to submit written and oral testimonies. Fiscal Policy/Moral Budget CT is a wealthy state with billions of dollars stockpiled as surplus. Yet we are starving essential services of necessary resources in order to overstuff our reserves. Analysts have reviewed the Fiscal Roadblocks creating the imbalance and they’ve identified the Volatility Cap and the Spending Cap as primary offenders. These measures are misaligned. The Rainy Day Fund is projected to reach nearly $4.7 Billion or $21,1% of the net General Fund. That equals billions blocked from being reinvested into vital and lifesaving services like special education, mental health services, and care for senior citizens.  In late January, a bill was proposed that would enact some fiscal policy reforms. Many of the representatives who were present at the GHIAA Power Summit in Nov. 2024 are among those who introduced this legislation. GHIAA is currently analyzing this proposed legislation. Next steps will be forthcoming. HUSKY for Immigrants The HUSKY for Immigrants campaign is seeking to ensure that all income-eligible people, regardless of immigration status can access HUSKY, the state’s Medicaid program. So far, children up to age 15 and pregnant people are covered. This legislative session, the campaign is seeking to extend coverage to persons up to age 26 and age 65 and over. Two bills have been introduced. Public hearings are likely in late February and there will be opportunities to submit written and oral testimony.

Gathering Music (Mary Bopp) Welcome and Announcements (Rev. Josh Pawelek) Centering Prelude  “Swimming to the Other Side” By Pat Humphries Jennifer Richard, vocals and guitar Chalice Lighting and Opening Words  Excerpt from “The Hill We Climb” By Amanda Gorman Opening Hymn      #188 “Come, Come, Whoever You Are” Words ad. From Rumi,  Music by Lynn Adair Ungar Come, come, whoever you are, wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. Ours is no caravan of despair. Come, yet again come. Time for All Ages Song #1023 “Building Bridges” Words: The women of Greenham Common peace occupation in England, 1983 Music: Contemporary English Quaker chant 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. Joys and Concerns  Musical Meditation Offering We do not gather our gifts only for ourselves but to share with the larger community. Continuing our practice of sharing our gifts with the community beyond our walls, fifty percent of our Sunday plate collections for the month of February will be shared with Manchester’s African American and Black Affairs Council.  Offering Music  “All Ye Refugees” Jenn Richard, guitar and vocals by Sandra McCracken Sermon “On Inclusion, Part I” Rev. Josh Pawelek Closing Hymn #155 “Circle Round for Freedom” By Linda Hirschhorn Circle 'round for freedom, circle 'round for peace, for all of us imprisoned, circle for release, circle for the planet, circle for each soul, for the children of our children, keep the circle whole. 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

Our spiritual lives mirror the changing seasons.             Our spiritual lives take cues from the changes between seasons and the changes within each season—changes in the light, in the proximity of Earth to Sun, in the angle of Earth toward Sun, in temperature, in color, in the land, in the wildlife, in the night sky. All seasonal changes serve as prompts for our spiritual reflection, practice and growth.             Our spiritual winters are for rest and nurture, gestation, germination. They are womb times, dormant times, tomb times, inward times, dream times, seeds-in-the-soil times. As our spiritual winters conclude, we are purified, strengthened, healed, fresh, new, ready to emerge, ready to break through, ready for rebirth.             Our spiritual springs are for rebirth and rejuvenation, bursting forth, rising up. They are fertile earth times, red-buds-on-branches times, green times, warming times, awakening times, resurrection times, planting and sowing times, passion times. As our spiritual springs conclude, we are fully alive, alert, ready for life, ready for engagement, ready to meet challenges, ready to struggle, even looking forward to struggle.             Our spiritual summers are for exploration and play, invention and innovation, learning and growth. They are creative times, work times, vocation times, fully awake times, venturing out times, Sun at our back times; times for testing boundaries, times for wandering along our growing edges. As our spiritual summers conclude, we find we have matured, grown in wisdom, deepened our understanding of who we are and what matters to us. We are ever more mindful of realities and mysteries larger than ourselves, the meanings of which we may never fully grasp.             Our spiritual autumns are for harvest, settling in, winding down, letting go. They are ripening times, reaping times, falling leaves times, waning and decay times, barren times, preparing the fields for winter rest times, reckoning with death times, thinning veil times, remembering-the-ancestors times. As our spiritual autumns conclude, we recognize and accept the limits of our living, we recognize the preciousness of life all the more because we know we must in time let go, let go, let go, return, return, return to rest, to sleep, to unknowing, to the sweet embrace of the eternal.             This is my way of describing generally how our spiritual lives mirror the changing seasons, my way of naming at least some of the spiritual prompts and cues embedded in the seasons and the transitions between them—there are many more. I would be remiss if I did not point out that my description of our spiritual seasons is not universal. I’ve spent almost my entire life in New England where every year we experience four distinct seasons. I respond spiritually—as I know many of you do—to the beauty and movement in each season and the transitions between them. But these responses do not always travel well. They don’t make as much sense at the Equator or in regions of the world where, for example, there are two predominant seasons, rainy and dry. I say “our spiritual lives mirror the changing seasons” because I like the sound and feel and truth of that language, but for some it may be more useful to say, simply, “our spiritual lives mirror the patterns of the earth;” or “Our spiritual lives mirror the changes in the land;” or “our spiritual lives mirror the movements of the night sky.”             Having said that, here we are—those of us who are physically present—at our Unitarian Universalist Meeting House atop Elm Hill on the Manchester/Vernon line, east of the Connecticut River, approximately 41.7 degrees north of the Equator, which puts us well into a region of the Northern Hemisphere where four, discrete seasons grace us through the cycle of each year with their distinctive spiritual prompts and cues. Here we are, but more than that, here we are on this auspicious day, February 2nd, a cross-quarter day, the halfway point between the winter solstice and the vernal equinox; still a winter day based on our calendaring system, but a day for turning in the midst of winter toward spring. If our spiritual lives mirror the changing seasons, then this day—and really this time of year—is a time to turn, a time to sense a shifting (as one of you said this week) all around us, and deep within us. If our spiritual lives mirror the changing seasons, then how are you turning? How are we turning? And more specifically, in the midst of spiritual winter—rest, nurture, gestation germination, the womb, the tomb, dormancy, sleeping, dreaming—how are you beginning to turn toward spring—rebirth, rejuvenation, resurrection, bursting forth, rising up, fertility, passion, warming, greening, awakening, planting, sowing seeds and so on? How are you getting ready for spring? How are you preparing? How are you marking the transition at this cross-quarter moment?             I ask because I sense there is something deep within us and very natural—an impulse, an instinct, a yearning, a longing—that wants to turn at this time of year. I suspect this ‘something deep’ emerges out of our ancestral relationships to the land, the earth, the seasons, the cycles of sun, moon and stars. I see it manifested in myriad religious and cultural traditions, celebrations and observances that happen at this time of year and focus on spring, fertility, purification, cleansing, preparing the ground, expelling the old and inviting in the new. Here’s a quick run-down:             Groundhog Day—an ancient tradition with northern European agricultural roots using animal divination to peer toward spring, to predict its coming so that farmers could prepare the ground for planting at the proper time.             Imbolc—the traditional cross-quarter Celtic/Gaelic festival, which many contemporary pagan communities have reclaimed; typically celebrated on February 1st or 2nd, Imbolc translates roughly as ‘in the belly,’ a reference to pregnant sheep. It is associated with the Celtic goddess Brigid, goddess of fertility, poetry, healing, smith-craft and sacred wells. Practices include the lighting of candles and bonfires, rituals of purification, spring cleaning and setting intentions. The Goddess Brigid became the Christian St. Brigid, whose Feast Day in Ireland was celebrated yesterday, February 1st. Also in Christian tradition, today is Candlemas, at which churches bless and distribute candles, symbolizing Jesus as the “light of the world,” and reputed to have healing properties. Candlemas emerged in the fourth century, an evolution of more ancient Jewish and pagan purification rituals. It celebrates the presentation of the baby Jesus at the temple, and also the purification of Mary, as she was not allowed to enter the temple for six weeks after giving birth—she was deemed by custom to be impure until then. To me it is no coincidence that the New Testament narrative of the infant Jesus’ life is grafted precisely onto the motion of the earth around the sun, and that a Christian ritual of purification happens at this moment when human beings very naturally turn toward spring. I’m just getting warmed up. Ancient Romans observed Lupercalia on February 15th, a fertility celebration featuring purification rituals, animal sacrifices, matchmaking and fertility blessings for young couples. Lupercalia is associated with the God Lupercus, a protector of farmers and shepherds, flocks of sheep, harvesting  and packs of  wild animals . Pope Gelasius I, replaced Lupercalia with St. Valentine’s Day in the fifth century. Some say—and it seems intuitively correct to me—that while there is no modern observance of Lupercalia, its association with fertility and matchmaking lives on Valentine’s Day. Peering eastward, the Chinese Lunar New Year, also known as the Spring Festival, begins with the first new moon following January 21, which was this past Wednesday, the 29th. It’s a massive, multi-faceted holiday with ancient agricultural roots. It emphasizes family, ancestor worship, feasting, prosperity, good fortune, along with sweeping out the old and welcoming in the new. I’m aware of, though not very familiar, with the Japanese festival of Setsubun, which, this year, happens today, February 2nd, and marks the day before spring in the traditional Japanese lunar calendar. It features a ritual scattering of roasted soy beans around homes, temples and shrines. The ritual is said to drive out evil spirits and draw in happiness. I’m aware of, though not very familiar, with the Hindu festival of Basant Panchami, which, this year, also takes place today, February 2nd. This festival marks the onset of spring, and is dedicated to Saraswati, the goddess of wisdom, knowledge and arts. Though it is celebrated in many different ways, I see references to wearing yellow, flying kites, and offering prayers to the goddess. People place books, musical instruments and pens on her altars. Finally, Tu BiShvat, the Jewish New Year of the Trees, takes place on the 15th day of the Hebrew month of Shevat (February 12th this year) and marks the season when the trees in Israel begin to bloom and bear new fruits. It is not an ancient festival but was an important date for Jewish farmers, a guide to knowing when to begin planting. Today it is associated with environmentalism and being kind to our planet. Our spiritual lives mirror the changing seasons. I’m naming all these festivals, celebrations and observances because I believe they manifest a deeper, natural human need, impulse, instinct, longing, yearning to turn in some way at this specific time of year: to turn toward spring even though winter still blankets the land; to anticipate the thawing ground which is, right now, frozen; to turn and let our turning purify, cleanse and heal; to turn, and in so doing, to make ourselves ready for new life though it is still, on this day, “in the belly;” though it is still, on this day, beneath the surface, hidden, waiting. I have an assignment for you. I don’t want you to think about your own turning. I don’t want you to contemplate what it is you are turning toward. I don’t want you to name it. The naming will come. The knowledge and awareness will come. If our spiritual lives mirror the changing seasons, let us be mindful that right now our season is winter —the resting time, the womb time, the dormant time, the dreaming time. It’s not a time for consciousness, not a time for thought, not a time for reasoning. My invitation to you is to mark this cross-quarter moment with a ritual. I have three proposals. First, at some point today, or in the next few days, light a candle and sit quietly by it. If you’re really adventurous, light a bonfire, and sit quietly by it. Though if you’re truly adventurous, and sufficiently able-bodied, you can dance around it. Let the fire speak to the resting, dormant, dreaming part of you. Let the fire reveal the way in which you are called to turn. Don't bring your thoughts to the fire. Let the fire bring the thoughts to you. If fire doesn’t appeal to you, then second, clean the most cluttered room in your home. Organize it. Create space that wasn’t there before. Lose yourself in the process of cleaning. Let the process of cleaning speak to the resting, dormant, dreaming part of you. Let the process of cleaning reveal the way in which you are called to turn. Don't bring your thoughts to the cleaning. Let the cleaning bring the thoughts to you. If your home is already immaculate, then third, engage in some creative act, mindful that Brigid is, among other things, the goddess of poets and smiths; mindful, perhaps more distantly, that Saraswati is a goddess of the arts. Let the muses speak through you. Write a poem. Engage in a craft. Let the creative act speak to the resting, dormant, dreaming part of you. Let the creative act reveal the way in which you are called to turn. Don't bring your thoughts to the creative act. Let the creative act bring the thoughts to you. This is my assignment for you. Engage in a simple ritual and watch what emerges from your winter being. Then, begin to awaken. Begin to stir. With the earth, begin preparing for spring. Amen and blessed be.

June 3, 1952 – December 18, 2024   Prelude “Home at Last” by Dave Brubek Chris Crossgrove, piano                                Opening Words  (Rev. Josh Pawelek) Welcome Chalice Lighting Candle Ceremony  (Kendra Scarlett) Smudging  (Blessing) Ceremony (Bert Gunn) Responsive Reading "We Remember Shoshana" ad. from Rabbi Jack Reimer WE REMEMBER Shoshona At the rising of the sun and its going down We will remember her. At the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter We will remember her. At the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring We will remember her. At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summer We will remember her. At the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of autumn We will remember her. At the beginning of the year and when it ends We will remember her. As long as we live, Shoshana too will live, for she is now a part of us As we remember her. When we are lost and sick at heart We will remember her. When we have made decisions that are difficult to make, We will remember her. When we have achievements that are based on hers We will remember her. When we have joy we crave to share We will remember her. As long as we live, she too will live for Shoshana is now part of us. As we remember her. Music “Smile” by Charlie Chaplin   Chris Crossgrove, piano Eulogy   Marsha Mason Testimonial Kendra Scarlett Music "To a Wild Rose" By Edward MacDowell Chris Crossgrove, piano Remembrances Words from the Minister Mourners’ Kadish  (Transliterated from the Hebrew) Yitgadahl v-yitkadesh sh’mey rabah B-allma div’ra chirautey V’yamlich malchutey B-chayechon yv-yomeychon Liv’chayey d’chol Beyt Yisra’el ba-agalah u-vi-zman kariv V-imru ameyn.   Y’hey sh’mey rabah m’vorach L’olam ul’amey almaya.   Yitbaraheh v-yishtabehch v-yitpa’ahr v-yitromahm v-yit nasey v-yit’hahdar v-yit’ahleh v-it’hahlal sh’mey d’kud’sha, b’rich hu l-eyla min kol birchahta v-shirahta tushb’chahta v-nehchehmahta da’amirahn b-alma v-imru ameyn.   Y’hey shlahma rabah min sh’maya v-chayim, Aleynu v-al kol Yisra’el v-imru ameyn.   Oseh shalom bim’romahv, hu yah’ahseh Shalom aleynu v-al kol Yistr’el v-omru ameyn. Music “Accentuate the Positive” by Johnny Mercer                             Shoshana Levinson, vocals Chris Crossgrove, piano Extinguishing the Chalice Benediction "In Blackwater Woods" by Mary Oliver 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 "Chuckles is Our Groundhog" by Dan Thompson Dan Thompson, guitar and vocals Welcome and Announcements Centering Prelude Adagio from E Major Sonata for violin and keyboard J.S. Bach Anhared Stowe, violin; Mary Bopp, piano Chalice Lighting and Opening Wor ds "A Partial List" by the Velveteen Rabbi (aka Rachel Barenblat) Opening Hymn #123 "Spirit of Life" by Carolyn McDade Spirit of Life, come unto me. Sing in my heart all the stirrings of compassion. Blow in the wind, rise in the sea; move in the hand, giving life the shape of justice. Roots hold me close; wings set me free; Spirit of Life, come to me, come to me. Time for All Ages : "Spring is Coming" Musical Meditation Joys and Concerns Musical Meditation Offering We do not gather our gifts only for ourselves but to share with the larger community. Continuing our practice of sharing our gifts with the community beyond our walls, fifty percent of our Sunday plate collections for the month of February will be shared with Manchester's African American and Black Affairs Council. Offering Music Allegro from Southland Sketches for violin and piano Harry Thacker Burleigh Anhared Stowe, violin; Mary Bopp, piano Sermon "Turning" Rev. Josh Pawelek Closing Hymn #122 "Sound Over All Waters" Traditional Welsh melody Words by John Greenleaf Whittier Sound over all waters, reach out from all lands the chorus of voices, the clasping of hands! Rise, hope of the ages, arise like the sun, all speech flow to music, all hearts beat as one! Sing bridal of nations, with chorals of love! Sing out the war vulture and sing in the dove! With glad jubilation sing hope for the world; the great storm is ending, the clouds are all furled. Sound trumpets of triumph for marches of peace, east, west, north, and south, let the long quarrels cease! Sing songs of great joy that the angels began, Give glory to children, to woman and man! Hark! Joining the chorus the heavens resound! The old day is ending, a new day is crowned! Rise, hope for the ages, arise like the sun, all speech flow to music, all hearts beat as one ! 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 "Ship of Fools" by Hunter/Garcia "Just One Victory" by Rundgren Dan Thompson, guitar & vocals and Jen Richard, vocals Welcome and Announcements (David Klotz) Centering Musical Interlude Opening Thoughts on Power of Protest (Mary Lawrence) Chalice Lighting and Opening Words #462 (Paul Robeson) I shall take my voice wherever there are those who want to hear the melody of freedom or the words that might inspire hope and courage in the face of despair and fear. My weapons are peaceful, for it is only by peace that peace can be attained. The song of freedom must prevail. Opening Hymn #170 "We Are a Gentle Angry People" Words & music: Holly Near arr. by Patrick L. Rickey led by Jenn Richard We are a gentle, angry people, and we are singing, singing for our lives. We are a gentle, angry people, and we are singing, singing for our lives. We are a justice seeking people ... We are young and old together ... We are a land of many colors ... We are gay and straight together ... We are a gentle, loving people ... Time for All Ages (Emmy Galbraith) Welcoming Visitors and Joys & Concerns Offering The recipients of our January community outreach offering are Moral Monday CT and Power Up CT. Moral Monday gathers voices in the struggle for freedom and justice for black and brown people. Their areas of focus, activism and social change work include police accountability, voting rights, and workers' rights. Moral Monday CT was founded by Bishop John Selders and Lady Pamela Selders. Power Up CT brings much needed visibility to the ongoing realities of racism in Manchester and surrounding communities. They currently run Empower U, an after-school program at Squire Village in Manchester. UUSE currently serves as Power Up's fiscal sponsor. Offertory "All Men Are My Brothers" by Dan Thompson Homily "The Power of Protest" Stories from UUSE members on experiences with protest that have made a difference Mary Lawrence Song "Will the Circle Be Unbroken/The Flame" by Lara Herscovitch performed by Dan Thompson and Jenn Richard Words from Al Benford (shared by David Klotz) Musical Interlude Closing Thoughts on Power of Protest Closing Hymn "People Have the Power" by Patti Smith performed by Jenn Richard, vocals; Dan Thompson, guitar and vocals; and Mary Lawrence, vocals Extinguishing the Chalice and Closing Words #560 Commitment by Dorothy Day People say, what is the sense of our small effort. They cannot see that we must lay one brick at a time, take one step at a time. A pebble cast into a pond causes ripples that spread in all directions. Each one of our thoughts, words and deeds is like that. No one has a right to sit down and feel hopeless. There's too much work to do. 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.

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Gathering Music Welcome (Emmy Galbraith) Announcements (Rev. Josh Pawelek) Centering Prelude "Precious Lord, Take My Hand" By Thomas A. Dorsey Eric Rosenberg, Saxophone Chalice Lighting and Opening Words "A Network of Mutuality" The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. #584 in Singing the Living Tradition We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied to a single garment of destiny. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. There are some things in our social system to which all of us ought to be maladjusted. Hatred and bitterness can never cure the disease of fear, only love can do that. We must evolve for all human conflict a method which rejects revenge, aggression, and retaliation. The foundation of such a method is love. Before it is too late, we must narrow the gaping chasm between our proclamations of peace and our lowly deeds which precipitate and perpetuate war. One day we must come to see that peace is not merely a distant goal that we seek but a means by which we arrive at that goal. We must pursue peaceful ends through peaceful means. We shall hew out of a mountain of despair, a stone of hope. Opening Hymn #153, "Oh I Woke Up This Morning" African American spiritual Eric Rosenberg, sax Bob Janes, drums Mary Bopp, piano Oh, I woke up this morning with my mind stayed on freedom. Woke up this morning with my mind stayed on freedom. Woke up this morning with my mind stayed on freedom. Hallelu, Hallelu, Halleluia. I was walking and talking with my mind ... I was singing and praying with my mind ... Oh, I woke up this morning with my mind ... Story "Let Us March On" By Yohuru Williams and Michael G Long Art by Xia Gordon Musical Interlude Joys and Concerns Musical Interlude Offering The recipients of our January community outreach offering are Moral Monday CT and Power Up CT. Moral Monday gathers voices in the struggle for freedom and justice for black and brown people. Their areas of focus, activism and social change work include police accountability, voting rights, and workers' rights. Moral Monday CT was founded by Bishop John Selders and Lady Pamela Selders. Power Up CT brings much needed visibility to the ongoing realities of racism in Manchester and surrounding communities. They currently run Empower U, an after-school program at Squire Village in Manchester. UUSE currently serves as Power Up's fiscal sponsor. Offering Music "Come and Go With Me" African American spiritual Eric Rosenberg, sax Bob Janes, drums Mary Bopp, piano Civil Rights Stories Our Unitarian Universalist Past Our Unitarian Universalist Present Our Unitarian Universalist Future Closing Hymn "We Shall Overcome" African American spiritual Words adapted by William Farley Smith We shall overcome We shall overcome We shall overcome someday! Oh, deep in my heart I do believe We shall overcome some day. We'll walk hand in hand ... We shall all be free ... We shall live in peace ... We shall overcome ... 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.