From the Ministers

September – From the Minister

Posted by on Aug 29, 2016 in Spirituality | 0 comments

Gathered here in the mystery of the hour, gathered here in one strong body

Gathered here in the struggle and the power—Spirit, draw near.

This has been a summer of great struggle, in our country, in our world, from the massacre at the Pulse night club in June to the killing of Philando Castile in July, and so many beautiful others, in Dallas, in Milwaukee and elsewhere, to the human catastrophes in Syria and Palestine to the seemingly more distant catastrophe of climate change—a summer of sorrows and struggle.

We come to church to hold all this, which is hard when the summer theme is “JOY” and September’s theme is “HOPE”— themes either wildly out of sync with grim reality, or… precisely powerful enough, radical enough, to gather weary spirits and restore discouraged souls. I think of the young members of our congregation who, with candles in their hands and tremors in their voices, spoke in vigils here this summer, with fierce and angry passion, their insistence that black lives matter, and that those lost in Orlando—mostly gay, lesbian, trans, queer, mostly Latinx and mostly young—will be remembered for their dancing, their resistance, and their joy. I think of church-wide task groups organized this summer, on gun violence, immigrant rights, racial justice, and closer to home, on pastoral care, bringing meals, music, prayers, and simple presence to other members in real need. I think with gratitude, through tears, of those who died this summer—Randy Castle and John Weaver—and the loving hands that hold their families. I look with wonder at babies dedicated, children growing like milkweed in the sun, weddings consecrated, kids off to college and the world … and I remember history begins right now.

We come to church to conjure joy and spin threads of durable hope out of nothing but love and lived faith. Gathered here every Sunday in the mystery of the hour, gathered in the struggle and the power, we sing, “Spirit, draw near,” and it does. Welcome back. Welcome home. We begin again on Sunday, September 11 at 9 & 11am—gathered here in one, strong body.

Sunday, September 11 at 9 & 11 am
Bring a small amount of water from your summer travels or your kitchen faucet as we celebrate the sacred sources of our lives. Music from the choir; Luke and Victoria speaking.

Sunday, October 2 at 4:30pm
All animals are welcome!
On this Sunday close to the Feast of St. Francis, creatures great and small are welcome as we celebrate the lives we share with non-human companions. Watch the Weekly News and Facebook for details. If you’d like to take part as a reader or wrangler, and help set up/clean up the potluck supper, contact Victoria Safford (; 651.426.2369 x101)

Sundays, Oct. 23-Dec. 11; 1-2:30pm
The most universal human experience we share is the death of a loved one. We will explore the often bewildering process of grief with readings, poetry, and sharing the personal experience of loss. Our hope is that ‘a grief shared will be a grief diminished.’ Even if you’ve been part of this group in the past, we welcome you to come again, as your journey of healing continues. Facilitators: Jo Ford, MSE and Sheryl Niebuhr, PhD. To register or for more information, contact Victoria Safford (; 651.426.2369 x 101).

May – From the Minister

Posted by on Apr 28, 2016 in Spirituality | 0 comments

The Annual Meeting is a throwback, a remnant of a simpler time when it was still possible to imagine governing in person, voting with a literal show of literal hands, discussing and debating and applauding what deeply matters face-to-face and heart-to-heart, not by proxy, and not just calling it in. The Annual Meeting recalls a time when showing up was a sign not only of one’s own agency and self-interest, but a real sign, too, of caring for the institution and the people in it, and also democracy, the great experiment which relies first and always on engagement— everybody at the table.

Built on this same democratic model, Unitarian Universalist congregations are governed by congregational polity. The congregation rules, the members holding in their hands all authority to raise and spend money; elect leaders; ordain, call and dismiss ministers; and discern their own direction.

It’s not for lack of innovation or imagination that the congregation governs in this retro way, convening once a year not virtually and not online, but in person in the Sanctuary. It is sacred work you do. To offer to each other your most precious gift, the gift of time (real time) and presence, is a sign of deep respect, and even reverence.

Please come. If you have signed your name in the membership book, you need to come to make the needed quorum. You need to come and vote. Don’t assume that someone else will be there in your place. If you are a friend or guest, please come. We need your voice, too; you are part of this community.

You show up all the time: for Sunday services, for choir practice, for teaching in RE and cooking in the kitchen. You show up for Sharing Circles, for funerals and weddings, for demonstrations at the Capitol and quiet prayers when someone’s sick or needing help. It is such a retro throwback, to place your very body in the very moment—but that’s what church is all about. It is a beautiful, humble and humbling process, and it can only work if you show up.

April – From the Minister

Posted by on Mar 31, 2016 in Spirituality | 0 comments

On early Sunday mornings, when the sanctuary is still dark, I am alone there, straightening the chairs, checking the thermostat, setting the hymn books evenly among the pews. In a couple of hours, the people will start to arrive. What will they find in this space, set apart from other spaces, within the clearing of an hour set aside from all their other busy hours?

Unlike almost every other thing we take time to do on purpose, worship makes nothing, accomplishes nothing, sells nothing, yields nothing. It is its own end. In our liberal communion, it has no direct object; grammatically, the verb is intransitive. We don’t worship anything, but draw instead upon the oldest meaning of the word, worth-ship: to consider that which is of worth. To honor what is worthy of honor, to notice what is worthy of notice, to grieve the losses and the sorrows that are worthy of our tears, to tell stories about and sing about, to celebrate, what matters; to name, in the clearest possible language, with the most beautiful music, through the deepest possible silence, a few significant things. Of the 168 hours in a week, we set one aside precisely for this work that is not exactly work, this activity that isn’t very active (and yet nor is it passive), and which yields no product— except sometimes a kind of deepening. Sometimes, by luck or grace, there may come glimpses of a sense of reassurance, or comfort, or acceptance, or peace of mind or peacefulness of spirit sufficient for the hours, days and week ahead. There may come gratitude, forgiveness, resolution.

There may be felt an unwelcome and uneasy challenge to calcified conviction, or an unexpected stirring to more concerted courage, or a calling to actionable outrage, when outrage is what’s needed in the world beyond the self. These things are not felt by everyone at once. Worship for us is communal and yet essentially private; who knows how far anyone may travel between the Prelude and the Closing Words?

The service is not the Thing itself. The music, the silence, the speaking of names, the movement of the morning light (the way that it has moved for years and years), across the walls and over the faces of a beloved community—none of these is the Thing itself, but any of them may open the spirit to it. Ritual is art and sacrament. We stand available. We are alert and awake, mindful that we are alive and fairly fragile, aware that there are some few things that we can do together, on purpose, and many more things out of our control. The saving grace in Sunday morning is that it comes round again and again and again, whispering one way to try to grow a soul: Notice. Look. Wonder. Give thanks. Mourn. Repent. Rejoice. Repeat.


March – From the Minister

Posted by on Feb 29, 2016 in Spirituality | 0 comments


This month, we are asked to pledge our financial support to the congregation that in turn supports us, in so many tangible and invisible ways. No matter what each household is able to give, it is an honor to be asked, and a joy to respond as we’re able. This year, the request is two-fold.

First – Consider the contribution you’ll make to sustain the 2017 Operating Budget: the programs, services, ministry and staffing. Payments begin with the fiscal year in July 2017, and can be made in any increments over 12 months. We know the average pledge needs to be about $2500 per household, and we depend upon many gifts much larger.

Second – On the recommendation of the Board, and with the congregation’s overwhelming support by vote in October, we are launching a Special Campaign, to sustain our church over many years to come. Our goal is $1.25 million, and thanks to the generosity of early lead donors, we’re well on our way! We’ll get there if each household can make a gift equal to 3-5 times their annual pledge; it’s payable over 3 years. Ross and I will pledge to both campaigns because the love of this church and the light it shines in the world guide our path, every day. We hope you’ll join us!


When I asked two Board members why they’ve pledged early (and generously), here’s what they said:

“Jackie and I are making a pledge to the 2016 Special Campaign because the work of this church is important to us and financial strength is the foundation for all of our good work. We are grateful for so many things. One recent realization: With our daughters in their 20s, we can see the long-term benefits of the years of RE classes. The annual pledge is critical as that is how we pay our staff and pay for our building. Enjoy the sermons? Do your children participate in Religious Education? The annual pledge makes all that happen and more.

We have never contributed nearly as much to any cause as we are this time to the Special Campaign. We can visualize our church without furnaces and mortgage payments hanging over our heads and the image is thrilling. Sometimes people say they can’t give as much as they would like to WBUUC because of their other charitable commitments. One thought: How big is the pool for those other commitments? Other organizations also do good work but they may receive donations from hundreds of thousands or millions of families. The entire financial security of WBUUC rests on our 750 members. ”

–Steve Kahn, President

“This is the most generous gift we will make this year. We’re doing it because WBUUC makes a difference in our lives, in the lives of our community, and in the future of the world. It matters to me because WBUUC provides a spiritual, emotional, and intellectual home to many. It is a place where we can speak openly about our spiritual beliefs without risk of censure, where we can immerse ourselves in working for each other and for our community and beyond, where we can expect to be continually challenged to think more deeply, feel more compassionately, and to become who we are called to be. I am so grateful for the exceptional ministers and staff at WBUUC. We are pledging to both campaigns because WBUUC is an invaluable part of our lives. I am proud, excited, and inspired by our congregation’s vibrancy and ever growing work for social justice. My hope for our community is to continually see the power and impact of what we can do together. ”

–Laurie Kigner, Vice President

February – From the Minister

Posted by on Jan 31, 2016 in Spirituality | 0 comments

A philosopher has said, the line between good and evil goes through the center of each human heart. Martin Luther said it just slightly differently—simul Justus et peccator. Simul—simultaneously, Justus—justified, et peccator—and yet a sinner.

At one moment we are entirely whole in our beauty and brokenness – the tradition of our ancestors reminds us of our humanity – fully beautiful, fully broken; imperfect and yet proclaimed: beloved of earth, of sky, of God.

Sin is an edgy topic—especially for religious liberals. The practice this month, of turning, comes from traditional understandings of “sin” in philosophy and theology. To sin was to turn away: from the Holy, from the good, to fail to live up to your own hopes. And then to repent, which means to turn, was to turn back toward the Holy, the good, your highest aspirations and your best self.

When I was leaving Lutheran seminary I met with the Dean of the Seminary. I explained I had come to believe that Jesus was one among many mediators of God in the world. He said, “Sure. There are a hundred ways to understand Jesus—that’s not too radical.” I was a bit surprised.

And what he said next has stuck with me since: “I think the major difference we have with the Unitarian Universalists is human nature. We human beings are constantly failing to be our best selves, and regularly drawn to the vices of greed and hatred and division – and unless we name it as something as deep and substantial as sin, I think it becomes quite difficult to respond to it in any constructive way.”

And I said, “Yes, Sir.” And I babbled about each person having the capacity for good or evil; that it’s not “original sin,” and he said, “You know as well as I that original sin is a metaphor for why humans fail to be their best selves all the time. We’re not evil—we are just as flawed as we are good—and yet God always calls us beloved.”

And I said, “Yes, Sir.”

I think I like the edginess of thinking about sin because it forces us to re-examine the overly optimistic view of human nature in liberal religion. It challenges us to look at our language; how do we speak of individual and communal brokenness, wrongdoing, missing the mark, failing to be our best selves? Each day, we experience a world in which there are heart-shattering stories and experiences—loss, grief, destruction of our communities and the planet itself.

So I still wonder, and wrestle with the question: how might we use the language of sin, whether we end up using that word or not, as a gateway to deeper reflection on how to name and respond to our broken world, and our broken souls. Perhaps we can find language that names both struggle, personal and communal, as well as resilience.

January – From the Minister

Posted by on Jan 1, 2016 in Spirituality | 0 comments

I am running into a new year
and the old years blow back
like a wind
that i catch in my hair
like strong fingers like
all my old promises and
it will be hard to let go
of what i said to myself
about myself
when i was sixteen and
twentysix and thirtysix
…but i am running into a new year
and i beg what i love
and i leave to forgive me
- Lucille Clifton

sys-dividerI am writing on a snow-drifted morning, on the very threshold between one year and the next.

Looking back, even just a week behind, I am filled with gratitude for the dozens and dozens, literally hundreds, of members and friends who helped in so many ways to make beautiful holidays here: the Choir and the Youth Choir, Harmonia and solo musicians; friends who donated trees and wreaths, and others who wrangled them into place (and out again) ; readers, speakers, ushers, greeters; those who made coffee and baked and swept, and welcomed returning young adults home for Christmas Eve; snow shovelers, fire tenders, young drummers at the Solstice fire; folks folding orders of service and assembling, then disassembling, little candles; and everyone who wrote a heartfelt wish on a cut-out paper star.

I’m grateful to those from our church who went down to Minneapolis to stand for racial justice while all this was going on, and those from our pastoral care team who sat with others close to home.

This is a cherished community.

Looking forward, more gratitude, as the circle of community expands yet more. We are very close to launching the Special Campaign you approved by congregational vote in October.

Five committees, your Board, and many volunteers are already at work: the Special Campaign Committee, chaired by Dale Anderson; the Annual Pledge Committee, chaired by Jeff Nelson and Chris Nelson; the HVAC advisory group, which has been working for 3 years on a sustainable, affordable design; the HVAC Building Committee, which will oversee bidding and construction; the Financial Oversight Committee, chaired by Jack Juvette with Jane Harper as Treasurer; and the Board, with President Steve Kahn leading the way. Already, two dozen volunteers are in the process now of approaching more than 100 households for lead gifts in advance of the Campaign’s official launch – and the early pledges are deeply inspiring. When the Campaign opens officially in March, we will be more than ready to meet our goal to replace the old furnaces, pay down the mortgage, and fund a prudent increase to the annual operating budget.

On a snowy morning, I am filled with gratitude—for lovely old traditions, exciting innovations, solid longtime members who step up again and again and newer faces, newer hands, to carry forward so much good work. Hundreds of people, young and old, year in, year out, and all together make this church a holy place. As the Great Wheel turns our world once more, may the new year bring more light, more love, more joy and hope.

December – From the Minister

Posted by on Nov 26, 2015 in Spirituality | 0 comments

Where is the Light?
Sunday, December 20 morning services at 9:00 and 11:00am
music from the Choir, directed by Thaxter Cunio and from the Youth Choir, directed by Russell Packard

Stories from Amy Peterson Derrick, Rev. Luke Stevens-Royer, and others.
We’ll sing “Solstice Song” and “The Twelve Days of Christmas” – cherished White Bear traditions.

Winter Solstice Night
Sunday, December 20: Come back to church to celebrate the longest night!

Celebration at 5:00pm

We’ll mark the turning of the year and welcome Yule with a magical tree, music from Harmonia, solstice stories for all ages and an outdoor starry circle round a solstice bonfire.
Then – we’ll warm up inside over a shared winter meal.

Adults and children of all ages are welcome. Dress warmly!

O Holy Night

Christmas Eve Candlelight Services
Wednesday, December 24 at 4:00pm 6:00pm 10:00pm

at 4:00 and 6:00pm
Songs and carols, stories and wonder, with music from the Choir, directed by Thaxter Cunio

at 10:00 pm
The winter night deepens, with readings, carols, candlelight, and music from Margo Berg and Carol Caouette.

Welcome a Guest at Your Table
Special Collections for the Unitarian Universalist Service Committee on December 20 and 24.
On Christmas Eve, please bring your Guest at Your Table boxes and/or checks made to WBUUC!
The UUSC empowers justice work nationally and globally, supporting communities as they transform oppression into hope and lasting change. Learn more at

Mitten Tree
Throughout December, bring new hats, mittens, scarves and socks to adorn our Mitten Tree!
At the new year, we’ll bring these to families, children and teens at the Tubman Center.

November – From the Minister

Posted by on Oct 29, 2015 in Spirituality | 0 comments

love to walk in graveyards at this time of year. In an old one that I know, there was a little marker for a child, with a lamb made of stone lying on the top—a familiar motif in the early 19th century. The engraving read OUR LITTLE FRANK with the day of his birth and his death—one single day. Next to it was another little stone, and it, too, said FRANK. Their second son, born a year after the first, and given the same name, lived only to age three. And next to them their parents, and the stones of other children who lived on to adulthood, and the children’s children, and there they are now all together—and anyone I’ve ever known, or seen on any street, or any one of you, might be their descendants—or maybe there were none.

In another row I found the stone of a man who was married twice and widowed twice, and his two wives were sisters: not uncommon long ago, but strange to read the news in granite. You find all these threads of stories, bits and pieces, on little humble gravestones and big impressive marble monuments.

I like the quiet air in cemeteries. All the drama of the living has died down, settled into soil and grass and birdsong. Sometimes you can hear traffic on the highway just beyond the fence, or the shouts of children in a schoolyard, dogs barking, airplanes, hip-hop music wafting out of the land of the living, but where you are is quiet. You can feel a deep sympathy in such a place, for all their struggles, all their loves and losses, the failures that won’t be etched in any stone and over time are worn away and all forgotten, and the victories as well, all settled down into a congenial democracy.

These people have become part of something larger than themselves, and sometimes, walking in a graveyard, I remember I am too; my life, also, is a small, fleeting chapter of a larger, older story—something that goes on and on. It’s not a sad thought.

If the dead do come back to haunt us, I believe they’re begging us to tell the truth: that all of us are human, all of us are mortal, and life is very short—it is breathtakingly short—and most of us are trying, despite sorrow, grief and loss, to lead joyful, useful lives. Made stronger by our losses, or more wise, or gentler, we’re trying to lead lives that bring honor to the memory of the dead. Soon enough, under one sky, we will be restored to common ground—the same ground upon which we stand today, breathing in, breathing out, as one.

October – From the Minister

Posted by on Sep 30, 2015 in Spirituality | 0 comments

from “Remember Who You Are”
Sermon on the Ordination of the Rev. Laura Smidzik
September 19, 2015

As religious people we’re called to sacred patience and at the same time to a holy impatience; to quiet and disquietude; to the radical stillness of cupped hands and also to the clamor of raised voices shattering all silences.

As religious people, we dwell within a glad and awkward paradox: action and reflection, say the liberation theologians; ora et labora, prayer and work, say the Benedictines; waking and sleeping, says the rising of the sun and then its going down. Love till you’ve loved it away: this day that you’ve got, this life you’re given. You cannot rest; you have to rest. You must speak up, and you must shut up—and listen. We dwell within this paradox.

As people religious, you are called to the life of the spirit, and to the work of justice, and the fact is, it is all one life. We are here to grow our souls and to serve the world, we say. We are here to help each other do this.
What’s your story? What’s your prayer? Is there a thread you can trace, a way of seeing, being, and believing, the lifeline holding you steady through every day, as you sway between the call to prayer and the call to action? Teetering, as we all do, somewhere between “Be still my soul” and “Wake now, my senses,” how do you hold your ground, center your spirit, give voice to your power? That is not a question for ministers to answer; it’s a question for human beings to answer. The job of the minister is to keep asking it, over and over, and out loud in public at least once a week, to inflict upon people both affliction and solace, in equal measure, for as long as the people will have us.

These are intimate questions. We come to church, I think, to congregations, to community, to get help with our answers, to remember who we are, to find ourselves in a context that is larger than ourselves.

September – From the Minister

Posted by on Aug 31, 2015 in Spirituality | 0 comments

Most of us have come to this place, and to Unitarian Universalism, from some other point of origin. Children may be rooted from their birth here, but we adults come stomping the dirt from our travelling shoes. We fling ourselves down and say we’re so glad to be at home at last, even though it is a brand new place for us. It is not the house we grew up in. Nor do we enter empty-handed.

Each of us comes carrying a cup, a plate, a prayer, a hole in their pocket or their heart where their riches used to be; some come with abundance to share. Our memories come in with us. We come with all sorts of baggage, some of which can be checked at the door now, and some we’ve carried for so long it’s embodied now, incarnate, for better or for worse. Under one roof, under one sky, we bring in all our stuff and set up housekeeping, mindful (or maybe not) that the house is already amply furnished with a long tradition of its own.

We’re glad to know others and be known, to begin to trust both what is said and what will not be said (namely judgment) ; to begin to lean toward what’s required (mutual support, personal integrity, respect) and to trust that some things (conformity of thought or faith, for example, or unremitting shame) will never be required.

This is a religious way in which to be “at home” means your spirit feels absolutely free to wander and to wonder, to roam around and maybe in the end land right back where it started, with those same essential questions that you held when you were small, in synagogue or Sunday School, or in the quiet woods: Where do we come from? What are we? Where are we going?

To be at home in this Unitarian Universalist house means that you feel free to wander widely, and return with gratitude, over and over and at least once a week, to a safe hearth built of love and joyful service.

Welcome back, friends.
Welcome home.