Two poems by Mary Oliver: "First Snow" (1983) and "White Eyes" (2004).

This morning, we lit the two Advent candles - which together stand for expectation and hope. Advent means "coming" or "arrival." It is for Christians a time of waiting for the day of Jesus' birth. This is also a sacred time, a time of new beginnings for other faiths. Chanukah, the Jewish festival of lights, celebrates the liberation from foreign oppression and the rededication of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. For pagans, Winter Solstice is the turning of the year toward the lengthening of days and growing light.

We are so busy with the holidays and their preparation that it is easy to forget something important. This can also be a time of rest, a Sabbath, a time of reflection and connection to that which is most holy, to that which sustains our spirit. It can help us renew our faith in the goodness and possibilities of life. It is a time to let go of cares and strivings and to just be in the moment for a while each day of this season.

Like the winter hiker in Mary Oliver's poem, let us pause to breathe in the cold fresh air and to be called by the snow: "Its white rhetoric everywhere, calling us back to why, how, whence such beauty and what the meaning..."

How are you all doing? I mean, in this time when many of you are so busy, how is it going? Are you rushing around buying presents for family, friends and co-workers? Or are you too busy with other things, waiting until the last minute? Are you cleaning the house in anticipation of guests and feeling stressed? Or putting it off and feeling stressed as well? I know that many of you are parents who also work outside the home. Or are out of work and worried about money. Some of you are the sandwich generation ... taking care of both children and sick elderly parents. So how are you doing? Feeling overwhelmed?

Sit for a moment here in this place of sanctuary. Take a deep breath. Feel a growing calmness. Notice the light through the rose window above us. Or walk in your mind, if you will, through the trees which glitter like castles of ribbons, through broad fields which smolder with light.

In the Book of Exodus in the Hebrew Bible, we are instructed to keep the Sabbath, to refrain from work on the Seventh Day. Moses tells the Hebrews, who as slaves in Egypt knew unending toil, "Remember the Sabbath day, and keep it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work. But the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work.... For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but rested the seventh day; therefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and consecrated it. (Exodus 20:8-11) This was a day consecrated by God to honor God.

In our modern, more secular age, many people think of a day off more as a time to take care of ourselves... a kind of mental health day. I say it is (or can be) both sacred and secular at the same time. It can be a time to take care of ourselves by connecting to that which is most sacred to each of us.

Yet modern American society urges us to go faster and faster in pursuit of something more... of some perfect, idealized image of life. How often do we see ads on TV or in magazines showing perfect homes, perfectly decorated for the holidays, with happy and handsome people? And how often do these make us feel inadequate? How often is success measured by the size, price and number of the presents under the tree (or under the Chanukah bush) or by the car out in the driveway or by the house itself? But such busy people, always in pursuit of something more in unending labor, are rarely happy.

Wayne Muller in his book Sabbath writes about the relentless busyness of modern life and how it affects us. He describes how we have lost touch with the essential rhythm of life, of activity and of rest. We pay a price for this in exhaustion and loss of enjoyment.

I think that many Americans are caught up in a culture of false values, trying so hard to impress others, even if it's doing good in the world. We often try to look better or happier or more confident than we feel inside. No one wants to appear as if their life is messy or out of control or fraught with problems. Or that we're basically exhausted. We want to seem perfect, like we have it all together and all figured out. And we knock ourselves out: making more money, acquiring more things, or giving of more of ourselves. I think it has a lot to do with the American ideal of rugged individualism and the emphasis on competition. But this frenetic pace violates our basic nature, and our need for alternating periods of activity and rest. We need to time to rejuvenate ourselves at regular intervals. It's not just true of human nature, but of nature as a whole.

I must admit I am as guilty as anyone of ignoring this basic truth. I try to cram as much activity into the day as possible. I say "yes" to too many projects and meetings. Yes, I'll make new altar clothes for the Sanctuary and program the thermostats. Yes, I'll be secretary to the Taunton Clergy Association. Yes, I'll organize the annual retreat for the UU ministers. Yes, I'll make phone calls for that candidate. Yes, I'll do the food shopping on the way home or wash the towels which are not mine and which are overflowing the laundry basket. It'll only take a minute. I'll just drive myself a little harder and work a little faster.

I'm guilty! The overachiever who tries to be the perfect minister, the perfect humanitarian, the perfect wife and mother. After all, women are supposed to be good at multi-tasking. Right?

Of course, there are consequences when I do this. What did I expect? I become exhausted, get out of touch with my inner self and other people I begin to fail ... or at least fall short ... at each task. No time, no energy, to be present, to be calm and sensitive, kind and loving to others. I need to remind myself (and to be reminded) that perfection is impossible and that taking care of myself matters, too. And that being centered, finding my center, is what counts more than the quantity of the output.

Wayne Muller observes that keeping the Sabbath "can be a revolutionary challenge to the violence of overwork, mindless accumulation and the endless multiplication of desires, responsibilities and accomplishments... Like a path through the forest, Sabbath creates a marker for ourselves so, if we are lost, we can find our way back to our center."

I remember a song I used to sing as a child sitting in temple for Friday night services. I'm glad to see it in our hymnal. The words of the first verse are these: "Come, O Sabbath day and bring peace and healing on thy wing and to every weary one, let a word of blessing come: thou shalt rest. Thou shalt rest." Remembering those words brings back a sense of peace, the peace of that time and place.

Thou shalt rest. Let us slow the pace of our lives, particularly during this busy time. Observe a winter Sabbath during this season of Advent, Chanukah and Winter Solstice.. Calm down and breathe.

May the peace of the season settle over you. May it help you to find ... or rediscover... your center. May the answer to your living come slowly, maybe in a dream, maybe in a waking reverie. What is the source of your strength and passion? What is worthy of your attention, of your love. Advent is a time of waiting, a time of expectation, a time perhaps of transformation to a deeper and more contented self.

Thou shalt rest. Thou shalt slow down. Thou shalt seek delight in the moment in the things or the people you love. Do just nothing for a while and wait. Let the fields of your being lie fallow. Have faith in God, the Spirit of Life, the Source of All Being that nourishes and sustains you. Let the possibilities, the answers arise like sprouting seeds just below surface of your consciousness. Or perhaps they will fall, as in Mary Oliver's poem, like "like stars, or the feathers of some unimaginable bird that loves us, that is asleep now and silent-that has turned itself into snow."

Amen and blessed be.

Mary Oliver, "First Snow" in New and Selected Poems, Boston: Beacon Press, 1992.

Mary Oliver, "White-eyes" in Why I Wake Early, Boston: Beacon Press, 2004.

Wayne Muller, Sabbath: Finding Rest, Renewal and Delight in Our Busy Lives, New York: Bantam Books, 1999.