Getting in Touch with Your Inner Quilter--November 9, 2008--Karen Schoepflin Hagen

There are a number of little sayings that refer to quilters:
When live gives you scraps--Make a quilt
When you fall to pieces--Make a quilt

These sayings suggest an attitude adjustment--a therapy, or a healing process that quilt making can supply. I am not going to talk only about what quilts mean to me, but what I have observed them to mean to others.

When we think of quilts, we think of a comfort that might mean "to encircle." We don't feel alone when snuggled into a quilt. The quilt is a "safe" place. What a wonderful gift for anyone of any age! Many people create soft, beautiful quilts for new babies, as well as warm, cheerful lap quilts for the elderly. The quilt becomes an ever-present reminder of the care--the time--the love that went into that gift. However, there is also a reward for the quilt maker. We find the truth in the words "it is more blessed to give than to receive." We experience the joy of creation, and the satisfaction in fulfillment of ideas.

I belong to several quilt guilds. Those groups make quilts for families who lose everything in a fire, experience other tragedies, or just for individuals who need extra comfort in some way. The quilters don't usually get to see who receives their gift, but they know that it will make someone feel special. Quilting is sharing oneself with others.

Quilts are also a tie to the past. Many of us can reach back to memories of those old special quilts of interesting designs made from little calico prints or the cloth from flour sacks. Perhaps we remember quilts made from warm, but scratchy, wool pieces. Or maybe we remember running our fingers over the velvets and corduroys of an intricately stitched crazy quilt, as we feasted our eyes on the endless decorative stitch choices.

I've known people who spend years studying the fascinating history of quilts and the people who make them. Hundreds of traditional patterns were made up by unknown quilt makers who wanted to decorate and beautify the quilts they stitched. Many treasured quilts from the past have been carefully preserved and passed down. They can be a binder” between generations.

Possibly you have seen one of the many sunbonnet girl quilts made using the fabrics from the real dresses a little girl wore throughout her childhood, or quilts made from shirts and ties. Maybe you have seen quilts made from special T-shirts, from award ribbons, or from dainty handkerchiefs. I've seen quilts made for almost any subject: weddings, anniversaries, births, sports of all kinds, music, fishing, golf, dolls, cars, motorcycles, railroads, pets, tribute quilts to certain people, and so forth. I made a tribute quilt to the memory of our pet guinea pigs. Because of the way they wove themselves into our lives, I decided to try a method I had no idea how to achieve. I wove the quilt in the same weaving look of the chair weaving on my bent-wood rocker. This was to symbolize their entwining with our family. I brought that quilt to share as an example of a tribute quilt to pets.

Many quilts have been made to commemorate events such as the Statue of Liberty Centennial, or the Bicentennial year of our independence. I made a quilt for each of those celebrations, and will share the one I did to celebrate the Statue of Liberty.

Some quilts also express grief over devastating events. An example of this would be the ever-growing Aids quilt project. I also have seen photos of many incredible quilts relating to the 9-11 disaster.

There is a very interesting history of quilts being used as a signal for the Underground Railroad. The hanging out of a log cabin quilt with a black center rather than the traditional red center meant that was a "safe house." A wheel pattern showed that a group was going to be departing.

I was invited to Boise back in 1990 to help design the Idaho's People Quilt. That was when I first learned of the Boise Peace Quilt Project. This is an amazing group of women who have sought to combine peacemaking and quilt making. These are individuals working to produce quilts as gestures of international goodwill and as awards for peacemakers. Their goal has been to create a more peaceful world one stitch at a time. They design and make quilts to present as an award to various chosen, deserving recipients in recognition of their unique efforts toward peace among people. I have a collection of postcards showing quite a few of the quilts, as well as some photos printed from their web site if anyone wishes to look at them after the service. There are too many for me to name and describe in my talk, but this is a beautiful collection of quilts.

While I was helping work on the design for the Idaho's People Quilt Triptych, one of the women suddenly jumped up and quickly ran out of the room saying, " My men--I'm forgetting my men!" The others explained that she takes meals twice a day to a large group of homeless men who live under the bridge. I found this to be indicative of the nature of quilters: always concerned for the comfort of others.

It is not only women who find satisfaction in quilting. I knew an amazing elderly gentleman while I lived in Richland, Washington who made many quilts despite his very swollen, arthritic fingers. All of his quilts were made of one-half inch squares. He would draw his plan on graph paper, color the design, and cut his fabrics into piles of half-inch squares sorted by color. Then following his design, he would stitch square after square by hand in a ladder, stair-step fashion. All of his quilts were hand pieced and usually contained words, phrases, or whole sentences as part of the pieced design.

When I was doing my quilt exhibit in Salem, Oregon, several women brought quilt examples to show me that were made by men in the prison. They were teaching the men to make quilts, and the men in turn made quilts for their charity projects: an example of the healing power of quilts.

I have never been sorry that I was introduced to the hand quilting process at the little Viola Community Club in the 70s. They have a long history of hand quilting quilt tops for people. The sisterhood of our quilting and chatter one day a week was something I will always remember.

Because I marvel at all aspects of the outdoors and nature, many of my quilts were inspired by and depict birds, flowers, trees, and landscapes. I will finish by quickly sharing some of those quilts. These are a type of quilt meant to be hung on the wall. Finally, because this is a church service, I would like to share my quilt titled "Agony At Gethsemane."
List of quilts shown:
Little Friends
United We Stand
O Beautiful For Spacious Skies
Call of the Cranes
Forest Floor Fragment
Mt. Shuksan--Shalom
Beachcomber
Consider the Columbine
Display of Daffodils
Egret Elegance
Glorious Morning
Marsh Mates
Agony at Gethsemane

My Religious Faith-April 26, 2008--Tracy Springberry

One of the deep pleasures of my seminary education has been the discovery of theology. At one time theology meant the "study of God." Now, at least in liberal religion, it means the study of what is most meaningful and valuable. It is an incredibly interdisciplinary area of study. The best theologians try to take what we know from all sorts of fields: biology, physics, psychology, history, art, literature are a few examples, and then try to figure out the nature of human beings and the universe and what that might mean religiously and ethically.

Albert Einstein said, "All religions, arts and sciences are branches of the same tree . . . " Most academic disciplines study a branch of the tree. But in my experience, it's the theologians who are trying to figure out the nature of the tree itself and then consider just what in that means for our lives. In theology classes, I've read a dense text on the evolutionary biology of emotional response, a fairly incomprehensible legal treatise on human rights, classical philosophers, and an economics book. Probably the most profound influence on my theology has been A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson, which is a delightful overview of what we know scientifically about the earth and universe.

This morning, I want to share just one bit of my personal theology that I have developed over six years of reading, writing and discussing. I want to talk about my religious faith.

The word "faith" and its cousin "belief" are challenging words for many Unitarian Universalists. Often we associate "religious belief" with a person's intellectual confidence that God exists or that Jesus Christ died for humanity's sins or that there is a hell. We then associate "faith" with "believing" in these ideas even when no logical evidence exists for their truth. For example, if I "believe" in a personal God who cares for me, then I have "faith" God is looking out for me. The most rational among us sometimes reject such ideas and feel there is little point to discussing religious faith and religious belief.

However, the word "faith" with no religious context refers to what any person trusts to be true about the world and life. What a person has faith in guides the decisions he or she makes about how to live. People have faith in all sorts of things. Faith can be based on reason, experience, external evidence, or cultural expectation and tradition.

People in our culture often have in faith in ideas such as:
* Somebody ensured the airplane we just got on has no mechanical problems.
* The water in our town is safe.
* Children and youth will have better, richer lives if they are involved in sports or other structured activities.
* The scientific method is the best way to understand the world.
* Going to college, getting a good job, buying a house, and investing in retirement will ensure financial security and, thus, a good life.

Since most of us are 21st century Americans, we probably have faith, or have had faith, in many of these propositions and have made decisions about how to conduct our lives based on them. We drink water from the faucet without fear. We buy houses and invest in retirement. We read scientific discoveries as truth. However, none of these propositions is true all of the time.

The Hebrew word that is translated in modern Bibles as "faith" does not mean "belief in something without evidence" but means "steadfastness." All of us steadfastly direct our lives by certain ideas. Even if we know that going to college and buying a house doesn't always, every time, mean a good life and that the water in the tap might not always be safe, we choose to live our lives by those ideas.

We have faith.

But what of religious faith? Religious faith, like secular faith, guides the decisions we make about how to live. Only religious faith is typically based on beliefs about what helps us live value-filled lives and what helps sustains us during times of despair. Religious faith is about what we believe directs our lives toward love and justice and hope. It guides how we act to make our lives and world better.

For Christians, Jews, Muslims, and some people in this room their religious faith is in God. God is the one who has the power to help steer lives toward love and justice and hope. This faith provides direction to people. It helps one focus on what is most valuable. When life is hard, a person can pray to and trust God. One can follow old religious traditions that have developed methods for aligning one with God and love, justice and hope.

Modern secular culture and much of Unitarian Universalism teach that what we can have faith in is ourselves. Both teach that it is our actions and our will to influence our actions that direct us toward what we value we most and toward love, justice and hope.

This was what I was taught growing up--that I was ultimately responsible for my own fate and for improving the world. The saving of the earth and ourselves, this implies, is achieved by what each of us is able to do. We have faith in ourselves and our ability to make and act on good choices.

I think this is partly true. Often I have faith in myself to do the right thing to make a difference and I do it.

But not always. I can't always do it.

I cannot do all that has to be done and often what I can do, I cannot do perfectly. If what I can will myself to do is responsible for creating a good life and world, than what I do does matters tremendously, and it matters much more than I can deliver.

Many times I do not do what I know I should do.

We all have these experiences. We decide to lose weight, but eat cake the very day we make the decision. We decide to live in gratitude, but find ourselves wishing for an air conditioner or a different car. We decide to live in love, but find ourselves judging a difficult person. We decide to change the world, but do little of significance.

Other times I don't know what to do.

Does anyone really know the correct way to raise a child or deal with a challenging family member? Or the best way to spend time and money to end the pain of a suffering world?

I'm also certain that sometimes I act in ways that hurt myself and the world that I'm not even conscious of.

I know in my past I behaved in ways that seemed right and appropriate, but now I realize were damaging, because I have seen their results. I had a friend who grew up in a racist home and community and had no idea her attitudes were damaging until she was an adult and lived in other communities and met other people.

What do I do at these moments? Where do I turn? What guides my actions? Faith in myself provides no guidance. I simply feel guilty, hopeless and paralyzed.

To respond effectively to the world and live with hope, I need something more.

I know a wonderful man who has a deep faith in God. He works very hard to make the world better for people who struggle against oppression. But at the end of the day, he says, I have done my part; the rest is up to God. I envy the man's commitment and ability to do his part and then remain confident that his God continues to work while he rests. He is not guilty, hopeless or paralyzed.

I want that sort of faith.

I was raised by academics and am myself highly educated. What I was trained to do, and what seems as natural as breathing, is to think rationally. I mull the evidence. What I have faith in and what guides my moral choices cannot contradict the scientific evidence, cannot contradict what we know of history and of psychology, anthropology and sociology, and cannot contradict my experience. It is not part of my experience or tradition to find faith in a personal God who is beyond history and nature and can influence the world.

Still my experience demonstrates that this world is more mysterious than we can rationally understand: there is synchronicity, moments of grace, falling in love, call to vocation, and the intensity of birth and death. My mind, experience and heart tells me that there is something beyond myself that can guide me toward what is most valuable and toward love, justice and hope.

Henry Nelson Wieman, an influential liberal theologian in the early to middle part of this century, helped me find what I'd been looking for. For Wieman the question of the religious journey was, "What can transform people in such a way to save them from the depths of evil and bring them to the greatest good which human life can ever attain?"

He had two answers. The first is what we can will ourselves to do--the emphasis of secular and Unitarian Universalist culture. He called that ethics.

His second answer addressed the question what "transforms us when we cannot transform ourselves?" What, in other words, can we have faith in to help us when we don't behave as we want, don't know what to do, or don't realize our limitations?

His answer was creativity or as he called it the "creative event."

Very simply, creativity brings together a person's experience of the world's diversity, mixes it within a person, and changes the person so he or she can experience new, deeper relationships. Through creativity a person's life and the world become richer, more meaningful, more full of love and more just.

Creativity requires engagement with the world. Wieman calls this "creative interchange." We must reach out beyond our own understanding to listen and appreciate the other--whether that is a pinecone, our friend, someone with the opposite political views, or our own mysterious breath. We must reach out with our time, attention and heart.

One important element of this creativity is we do not control it. We cannot make the creative event happen.

We also cannot decide how it will change us. Wieman says, "The creative event cannot be used to shape the world closer to the heart's desire because it transforms the heart's desire so that one wants something very different from what one desired in the beginning."

However, we can lead our lives to make the creative event more likely to happen. For Wieman this meant increased appreciation of the world, times of silence, prayer and worship, and engagement with others particularly in sustained small groups.
Still, we cannot will creative change to happen.
It is out of our power.
It is beyond us.
Wieman's idea of creativity seems true to me.

The operating principle of the universe appears to be to be creativity--the combining of diverse elements to make something new. That is how we got atoms, molecules, flowers, blueberries and us. The operating principle of human culture also appears to be creativity. That is how we got democracy, the English language, and Unitarian Universalism.

So it makes sense that creativity would be what makes human change possible, help us live more by our values and align our lives toward love, justice and hope.

I have also experienced the transforming power of creativity, certainly many times, but I have one story that clearly demonstrates the change. In Spokane a couple of years ago, I took Spokane Alliance Leadership training. The Spokane Alliance brings together churches of wide theological differences, unions, educational institutions and non-profit agencies to work for meaningful non-partisan political change. Based on the work of Saul Alinsky, their philosophy is that people work together better across differences, if they know each other, and they do this through relational meetings, where each person shares their thoughts feelings on a specific question and the other listens and then they trade places.

While practicing relational meetings, I was paired with a woman very different from me in age, class, political affiliation and religious belief. For some reason, I don't now remember, she began discussing Wal-Mart. I boycott Wal-Mart because of their labor practices. She did all her shopping there and was bitterly angry with people who criticized Wal-Mart. At first, I was surprised at her bitterness. Most people I know who shop at Wal-Mart at least feel guilty about it. Then I felt superior. I understood the issues. I was ethical. I stood up for what I believed. But because the assignment was to listen, I listened. And because I listened, I experienced her fear of living on a fixed income, prices rising and her standard of living slipping, until she saw herself homeless. Wal-Mart prices allowed her to live with a standard of living that she was used to, at least for the moment. I understood then how Wal-Mart is the result of a society that values consumerism above all else and where the poor are getting poorer. It's fine for me, financially secure, to be superior in my Wal-Mart boycott, but Wal-Mart is not going anywhere with its labor practices and philosophy of closing down local retail economies until the root issues of poverty and consumerism are addressed.

I had listened and I had changed. I no longer felt superior. I knew I needed this woman to work for justice and to end poverty. We needed each other. Love, justice and hope increased in the world at that moment.

My faith in creativity has changed my approach to life. When I don't do what I think I should or when I don't know what to do, I remember my commitment to creativity. And I always remember, I cannot will creativity to happen. It is like my friend with his faith in God. He does his part and lets God do the rest. I do my part and let the creative power work in me and in others.

So I do what I can. I do those things I know I can do to make my life and the life of others better. My Then I open myself to creativity. I appreciate the world. I become "wholly attentive," as Annie Dillard said in this morning's meditation. I listen. I meditate. I pray. I worship. I stay in relationship with people.

I have also been fortunate, as you are, to be in a congregation that provides opportunities that prepare us for creative transformation. Small groups and affinity groups, such as the PPQ and men's groups, allow us deepen and lengthen relationships. Non-violent communication teaches us to listen more deeply to others and ourselves. We worship together. We value generosity, community, gratitude, acting in love, and paying attention.

I find as practice my faith in creativity, my faith deepens.
Sometimes I am exhausted and overwhelmed: the study of ministry takes so long, family and work is demanding, hundreds die in Iraq each month, hundreds others starve all over the world, and the glacial ice cracks as it thaws. All I can remember in those moments about the practice of my faith is that I should "appreciate" and be "wholly attentive," to the other and myself. So I look at trees. I examine the chunky puzzle piece bark of pine trees and the new bright green growth at the tips of fir branches. I wonder at the stately trunks of pines and the branching trunks of apple trees. Often as I'm admiring this artistry a squirrel darts out, its bushy tail high as it scurries across the grass, or a bird sweeps down and flies gracefully among branches.

Mostly, I just breathe easier after meditating on trees.

But once, I was pulled deeper. In trees, squirrels, and birds I saw how amazing Life is. How it is strong, tenacious and creative in its expression of itself. Life can be a tree, a squirrel, a piece grass, an ant, or a lilac. Life is undaunted by change. When the atmosphere could no longer support Life in the form of dinosaurs, Life morphed and made other things--mammals and different of sorts of birds and reptiles. Mass extinctions have wiped out 98 percent of species that have ever lived, but Life is still abundant. From my yard, I saw magpies, robins, horses, petunias, phlox, honeysuckle, weeping birch, and day lilies. I couldn't see, but knew they were there: worms, ladybugs, and the bacteria that decay leaves. What more Life I would see if I walked down the street or flew to Peru. I was awed by the abundance of Life.

Then I remembered that I am a bit of Life. I am strong. I am tenacious. I am creative. I can be alive in new ways.

I also remembered that I am only one bit of Life--just a small part and thus both significant and insignificant, both powerful and not powerful.

My exhaustion evaporated. I walked slowly back into the day--where I found my family and work, the journey toward ministry, and a world both suffering and flourishing.

I joined, bringing the vibrant piece of Life that I am to the webs I live in, realizing that I could act or, if needed, just be, and I could trust the creativity and strength of Life itself to be a part of whatever happened.

I knew that there would be love. There would be justice. And there would be hope.

May it be so.

Justice Sunday--April 6, 2008--Peggy Jenkins

The UUCP is one of many congregations participating in "Justice Sunday" in partnership with the Unitarian Universalist Service Committee. Our church is a member of the UUSC, which is an organization dedicated to advancing human rights and social justice, and which provides resources to local congregations like ours. This year, Justice Sunday calls for consideration about war, poverty, and our nations priorities. The UUSC provided us with a sermon prepared by Carmen Emerson, a divinity student who works for the organization. I have taken excerpts from her sermon, and from the writing of Doctor Martin Luther King, who died 40 years ago this past Friday.

One year before Dr. King's death in Memphis, he gave a speech at the Riverside Church in New York City entitled "Beyond Vietnam, a Time to Break the Silence." King said of Vietnam "Somehow this madness must cease. . . . . I speak as a citizen of the world, for the world as it stands aghast at the path we have taken... The great initiative in this war is ours. The initiative to stop it must be ours."

The five years before the Riverside Speech had been busy ones for King. In 1963 he was jailed in Birmingham Alabama, and later that year he delivered his "I Have a Dream" Speech in Washington, D.C. In 1964 he was awarded the Nobel peace prize. He witnessed the signing of the Civil Rights Act in 1964 and the Voting Rights Act in 1965. In 1965, at Howard University, Dr. King gave his first speech against the War.

We often think of the risks Martin Luther King took in the violence and unrest of the civil rights movement, but in many ways his opposition to the war was an even greater risk. He alienated many political allies and friends. Clayborne Carson, a King historian at Stanford University, explains: "The white liberals had kind of abandoned him because of his Vietnam speech. [President Lyndon B.] Johnson thought he had gone off the deep end. And most black people in the civil rights movement thought he had gone off the deep end." At Riverside Doctor King acknowledged:

"Many persons have questioned me about the wisdom of my path--Why are you speaking about war, Dr. King? Why are you joining the voices of dissent? Peace and civil rights don't mix, they say. Aren't you hurting the cause of your people? Such questions mean that the inquirers have not really known me, my commitment or my calling."

According to Clayborne, King was politically isolated in the final years of his life. King acknowledged this alienation when he spoke at Riverside. He said, "Some of us who have already begun to break the silence of the night have found that the calling to speak is often a vocation of agony."

It should be said, though, that Dr. King's speech at Riverside was not an occasion for despair. In fact, he was celebrating, because he had found a community of faith opposed to the War. He was addressing a group known as "Clergy and Laymen concerned about Vietnam." The Group was formed in October 1965, and Doctor King was one of its few black members. It must be said that the Group served Doctor King's pragmatic interests: he had well-founded concerns that he would be smeared as a communist for opposing the war in Vietnam, and his association with the Clergy and Laymen Group helped him place his views within the broader religious opposition to the war. But the "Clergy and Laymen" group served Doctor King's spiritual interests as well. He said:

"We must rejoice--for surely this is the first time in our nation's history that a significant number of its religious leaders have chosen to move beyond the prophesying of smooth patriotism to the high grounds of a firm dissent based upon the mandates of conscience and the reading of history. Perhaps a new spirit is rising among us. If it is, let us trace its movement well and pray that our own inner being may be sensitive to its guidance."

Doctor King also had a sustaining spiritual kinship with the Unitarian Universalists. In 1966 he addressed the UU General Assembly in Hollywood Florida. He said:

"There are those wonderful moments in life when you speak before a group that is so near and dear to you that you don't feel like you have to engage in the art of persuasion. You know that you are with friends. I can assure you that I feel that way tonight."

Of course, Doctor King's address was about segregation and civil rights; had he addressed the UU general assembly about Vietnam in 1966 he would not have found uniform acceptance for his views. Dana McLean Greevy, President of the UU Association in the mid-sixties, was a member Clergy and Laymen concerned about Vietnam. But throughout America, the war divided UU congregations. People left the church, both out of a feeling that the increasingly anti-war church did not support their views, and because they felt the church was becoming more of a political institution than a religious one. Even within the our chuch there was division and conflict over the war.

Even today, developing a single UU position on war and conflict is a daunting, if not impossible task. Right now our church and others have been asked to consider this question:

Should the Unitarian Universalist Association reject the use of any and all kinds of violence and war to resolve disputes between people and nations and adopt a principle of seeking just peace through non-violent means?

I am sure that, among you sitting here today, there are a range of opinions on this issue. And there are people like me who are not even prepared to formulate an opinion. I would need time to sit quietly, to unpack all the thoughts and feelings that keep me from embracing that statement whole-heartedly. I need to examine my misgivings: hold them up in the light, and turn them around so I can see them from all sides. I have to find a way to articulate and express my concerns, and to find a place for them in the UU discussion.

I's not easy. But it's what Unitarian Universalists have been called upon to do over the next couple years. These discussions will lead up to a statement of conscience about just war and pacifism for consideration by the 2010 General Assembly. In the fall our church will engage in conversations about war, just war, just peace and pacifism. I hope you will take part.

Talking about war and conflict seems abstract and academic, for those of us who don't control the bombs or guns and who don't witness the carnage first hand. But it's not, because the resources we waste on bombs and guns prevent us from providing justice and opportunity at home. Doctor Martin Luther King recognized this in his speech at Riverside in 1967. He explained there was a very obvious--an inverse correlation--between war in Vietnam and the war on poverty in America. He said,

"A few years ago there was a shining moment in that struggle. It seemed as if there was a real promise of hope for the poor--both black and white--through the poverty program. There were experiments, hopes, new beginnings. Then came the buildup in Vietnam and I watched the program broken and eviscerated as if it were some idle political plaything of a society gone mad on war, and I knew that America would never invest the necessary funds or energies in rehabilitation of its poor so long as adventures like Vietnam continued to draw men and skills and money like some demonic destructive suction tube. So I was increasingly compelled to see the war as an enemy of the poor and to attack it as such."

Doctor King's words are heartbreakingly true today. Forty years later, exchange the war in Vietnam for the war in Iraq and consider the socioeconomic status of those in the Gulf Coast most hurt by Hurricaine Katrina: consider the state of health care, education, affordable housing and civil liberties in our nation, and consider Doctor King's words: "A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death."

In the five years since President George W. Bush invaded Iraq, the U.S. has spent or committed $600 billion on and to the war. Can you imagine what Dr. King could have done with $600 billion? Can you imagine what half that amount would have done to renew the gulf coast? Instead, on the gulf coast, the poorest people in the world's wealthiest nation struggle to complete a recovery effort subjugated to the same disparities of race and class that called King to act over 40 years ago. Just as Dr. King observed, it is the poor who are most grievously injured by our nation's misplaced priorities.

Affordable housing in New Orleans is non-existent, rents have increased by as much as 200 percent; and only one of seven general hospitals in New Orleans is operating at pre-storm levels. Mental health problems and post-traumatic stress are rising, as are suicide rates, but funding and resources for mental health continue to be reduced.

The poorest of the poor continue to pay the highest price. Taxpayers in Louisiana and Mississippi will be asked to pay $1.8 billion, for proposed Iraq war spending in the 2008. Again, those are funds that could have made an immediate and lasting difference to post-Katrina recovery efforts. That is money taken away from education, health care, and housing for those in dire need in the Gulf Coast Region and throughout the United States.

In the history, facts and figures considered today, certain questions persist: Why do we kill other people? Why do we take care of some while neglecting others? When faced with the overwhelming needs of this nation and of the world, are the odds too great? Have we rationed our moral outrage to the point of apathy? Coming to terms with those questions and that doubt is a necessary step on the road to change. In the words of Martin Luther King,

"Even when pressed by the demands of inner truth, men do not easily assume the task of opposing their government's policy, especially in time of war. Nor does the human spirit move without great difficulty against all the apathy of conformist thought within one's own bosom and in the surrounding world. Moreover when the issues at hand seem as perplexed as they often do in the case of this dreadful conflict we are always on the verge of being mesmerized by uncertainty; but we must move on."

We are most fortunate to be in a community where we can work together to find our truth and imprint it upon our world. As people of a theologically and politically diverse faith, it is our highest calling to hold each other up through the work of justice and peacemaking. We need not fear unanswerable questions. We have covenanted to accompany one another in a search for truth and meaning, and questioning is a sacrament to us. We need not surrender to apathy or be mesmerized by uncertainty. We are active agents in our own salvation. We have ourselves; we have each other; and we have a social justice legacy that it is in our bones.

In many ways, the hardest thing we have to do is make the choice to act. To save our singular country from the threat of spiritual death. And to seize the moment now. In the words of Doctor Martin Luther King:

"Now let us begin. Now let us rededicate ourselves to the long and bitter--but beautiful--struggle for a new world. . . . Shall we say the odds are too great? Shall we tell them the struggle is too hard? . . . . . Or will there be another message, of longing, of hope, of solidarity with [our] yearnings, of commitment to the cause, whatever the cost? The choice is ours, and though we might prefer it otherwise we must choose in this crucial moment of human history."

The Circle: Moscow Women Giving Togethe--August 10, 2008--Jessica Bearman

Thank you for inviting me to speak with you today about giving circles, shared giving, and philanthropy in general. During our time together today, I want to do two main things:

* I want to share with you some knowledge about giving circles--what they are, how they work, and why they are important.
* And, I'd like to tell you a little bit about the Moscow giving circle, called The Circle: Moscow Women Giving Together, how we began our journey, what we have accomplished so far, and where we hope to go.

But, first, a little exercise in visualization. Close your eyes and picture a "Philanthropist" What's coming to mind? How many of you pictured someone male? Someone white? Someone quite wealthy? Someone quite old? Maybe someone dead?
Philanthropy is a big word and for most of us, it doesn't quite fit. My hope is to convince you that we can all claim that title, if we want it.

In fact, most givers don't fit this profile at all. Most givers are people like you and me . . . And giving circles are one of the ways that people like us can give back and make a difference in our communities.

So, what is a giving circle anyway? Giving circles have been described as a cross between a book club and an investment club. They are formed when individuals--often people of moderate means--pool their money and decide together where that money is given.

* Donors pool and give away personal resources (wide range of sizes and $$ amounts)
* Donors decide together where their money is granted (usually local)
* Giving circles educate their members about philanthropy and about the community
* They have a social dimension that is often as important as their philanthropic dimension
* They maintain their independence from any one organization.

Giving circles aren't new--the idea of pooling money and using it for mutual aid is as old as the hills. But, we think that giving circles in their current iteration are part of a larger shift.

* People want to give back--the secret of philanthropy is that the greatest gift is almost always to the giver.
* People want to make a difference NOW--we don’t want to wait until we are rich or dead . . . and we want to make good, thoughtful decisions.
* We are seeking community--and like to do things that bring us together with others who share our values.
* We like to do it our own way--and giving circles can be designed to work for any community and any group of donors.

What is important about giving circles?

* Donors--There are more than 400 giving circles across the country, and they engage donors--12,000 according to our most recent data
* Dollars--They give back to the community--giving circles have given away nearly $100 million over the course of their lives and gave away $13 million in 2006 alone!
* Do MORE--They build civic engagement--giving circle donors learn about their community's needs and nonprofit resources. They become involved in meaningful ways--volunteering, serving on boards, and getting engaged in community improvement efforts. They are an exercise in democracy.

From our interviews with giving circle members and founders, we have learned that giving circles have a huge impact on their donors.

"This endeavor has transformed many of our members in very profound ways. They take more responsibility for others and their community. Participation has opened their eyes to other issues in society. I would say that the giving circle has been a spiritual journey for all of us."
Ericka Carter, The San Fernando Valley Giving Circle

* Demystify philanthropy
* Leverage resources to make a difference
* Learn about issues, needs, and organizations in the community
* Build community--both within GC and outside of it
* Members giving and volunteering beyond the giving circle
* Giving is more informed and thoughtful and more focused and strategic

So, here's the story of our giving circle. It's a story about how a small group of motivated individuals were able to get something started.
* Running group . . . talk talk talk . . . pulled in Amy Grey and Gerri Sayler. Decided: women's giving circle and $365 (dollar a day)
* Each of us invited some people we knew to a party. We thought that maybe we'd have 15 or 20 people, but fifty people came. We had a goal of attracting thirty women and raising $10,000. But, in the end, we had 47 members and raised more than $19,000!
* Our membership is a wonderful slice of Moscow.
* Our members range in age from mid 20s to late 60s. We include women who have lived in Moscow for one year and for 48 years.
* We volunteer an average of 10-20 hours per month
* Politically, group members described themselves as everything from very liberal to conservative, to apolitical.
* What we share is a commitment to this community and a desire to be part of an interesting group of women working to make Latah County even better.
* In our first year, we gave $18,500 in seven grants ranging from $1500 to $5000. Our first round of grants went to the following organizations:
* St. Vincent de Paul: $5,000 for emergency energy assistance
* University of Idaho Child & Youth Study Center: $4,000 for intensive reading intervention and tutoring
* Palouse Youth Hockey Association: $2,000 for scholarships and equipment
* Troy Elementary School: $2,000 to help create an outdoor science education program
* University of Idaho Sustainable Campus Move-Out Program: $2,000 to encourage recycling of unwanted furniture, clothing, and equipment at the end of the school year.
* West Park Elementary: $2,000 to help repair dilapidated playground equipment
* Moscow Rendezvous for Kids: $1,500 to support access to arts education for all interested children

For me, personally, this has been a way to take my giving and give it more purpose, focus, and direction. I have always given, but I have generally given reactively. Fifty dollars here . . . twenty dollars there . . . someone is running a marathon for AIDS . . . someone else is biking to cure juvenile diabetes. This is a good way to give, but I began to feel that if it was the only way that I gave, then I was missing the chance to be intentional with my giving.

Being part of a giving circle allows me to make a larger gift and make it much more thoughtfully. There is also the power of pooling my money--my $365 may not seem like a lot. But being able to give away $18,500--that was powerful! And doing it while spending quality time with other interesting, passionate, and engaged women . . . what could be better?

What is next?
* The Circle is currently recruiting new (and existing) members to sign up for 2008-2009 giving cycle.
* We will rethink our priorities for this year
* Emphasis on learning about our area's needs and resources
* Working on getting more women--and men--engaged and feeling confident as philanthropists.