Good morning, my name is Bill Glassman, and I’d like to share some of my thoughts and experiences as a member of First, as we observe the Day of the Dead.

My first contact with First Unitarian goes back 26 years, to 1988, when my wife Lies and I were planning our wedding. Neither of us were active in the faiths of our childhood, but we wanted a wedding service that was not purely secular. Eventually, this led us to June Sanderson, who was the chaplain at First at that time. June was warm and supportive, and I am still grateful when I think of her role in our wedding.

We did not join First immediately after our marriage. When our first son was about two years old, we decided we wanted a spiritual foundation for our family, and our contact with June led us to First Unitarian. I must admit to being a bit hazy on the dates, but I believe it was about another two years before we actually became members—but today, I’ve been a member for approximately twenty years, and ultimately both of our sons participated in both RE and the Coming of Age program.

Over the first several years, I came to First on most Sundays, and enjoyed the sermons, particularly those of Mark Morrison-Reed, who eloquently combined head and heart. Yet during those years, Sunday attendance was the limit of my involvement, and it wasn’t until 2001 that things changed: at that time, I was directly approached by Donna Morrison-Reed, who asked me to take part in a congregational committee—in those days, this was known as “being Donna’d”, because Donna was near-undeniable when making such requests.

I agreed, partly because the project—developing a Safe Steps policy for First—was time-limited. However, it then led to my becoming a member of the Board, and eventually, a variety of other service positions. While my experience on the Board was initially somewhat challenging—Board meetings do not always emphasize the most spiritual aspect of First and its members—over time, I discovered two things: First, that the more I did, the more I felt a part of this community. Second, I learned that when our credo refers to “service is our prayer”, it bears a truth for me that is very spiritual. In essence, the more I give, the more I get.

At this time of year, “giving” often seems to be about money, but in fact I want to talk about a different sense of “giving”.

As we observe the Day of the Dead, I find myself thinking about the legacies we each leave through the living of our lives. I think of June Sanderson, who died earlier this year, and how her chaplaincy led me to joining First Unitarian—and how her life impacted many other people, both in and out of First. Hers was a wonderful legacy, and there are others like her who live on in my heart and memory, and I am grateful for their gifts.

I have also been thinking about my own legacy within this congregation. Lest that seem too egotistical, let me note two things in my defense: First, while I may not have thought about legacies 30 years ago, at this point I’m a lot closer to the end than to the beginning, even with the most optimistic estimates of life-span (which is probably pretty obvious to you!). Second, whatever my life-span, I know that my time at First is drawing to a close, because in about a year from now, Lies and I will be moving to Victoria, BC. So, I find myself thinking more frequently about what leaving a legacy involves.

As I see it, there are three primary possibilities. Service, as I already mentioned, is one aspect—and at this stage, I would say that I’ve gotten much more from my various service roles than I’ve given in time and energy. Most notably, it’s helped me get to know some wonderful people, as friends and as exemplars of what a life of spiritual commitment can be. So, while I can, I will continue to give my time and energy in service.

Second, since many of my service roles have been finance-related, including Finance Convenor, Treasurer, and the Funds Management Committee, I am also very aware that pledge contributions make the day-to-day functioning of the congregation possible. For example, even maintaining our ties to the CUC costs approximately $100 per member each year. So there’s the pledge message—what we give is what makes First possible.

There is also a third form of legacy, based on gifts in the future. Over the years, I have become much more aware of the history of First Unitarian, and that before I ever walked through the door, there were thousands of others who had previously done so—and their service and their pledges and their passion meant that First was here when I was seeking a spiritual home.

As Chair of the Funds Management Committee, I know that our Endowment and other funds only exist because others who came before wanted to pass something on, as a gift or bequest. Some of you will have heard of the Rouff/Mackie-Jenkins Fund, but you may not know that Emily Mackie was a congregant and Bill Jenkins was a minister, and that Ken Rouff wanted to honor their memories. The names of most donors are less visible, but all gifts and bequests serve to foster the long-term well-being of our congregation. Such gifts are legacies from the past that extend into the future. Recognizing that, Lies and I have made provisions in our wills, so that even after we move to Victoria, we can do something to contribute to the future of First. Legacies come in many forms—and planning to give when I am no longer here is one option I wish to exercise.

In the end, I am not so egocentric as to try to judge my contributions to First—either through service, or pledge, or bequest. But I am vividly aware that this is still my community and my spiritual home, and that I continue to get far more than I give. In that sense, the books may never balance, but I will do what I can to strive for a balance--and on this Day of the Dead, I am grateful for the many legacies of others.