"My life flows on in endless song
above earth's lamentation.
I hear the real though far-off hymn
that hails a new creation.
Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear the music ringing.
It sounds an echo in my soul.
How can I keep from singing?"

 I respond to the lyrics so strongly because I love to sing. In fact, to me, singing is a metaphor for spirituality --  both an exuberant and a prayerful activity. For years, I have sung this hymn with a realization of how singing is one of the essential fuels for my spiritual engine, and with a vivid mental image of how when I am singing, really belting it out, I am transported, refreshed, alive, authentic, vulnerable, connected, passionate.  The sorry fact is that at times, I'm so preoccupied with  all of those "important" and "necessary" things that a minister/ mother does with her body and brain, or so busy dealing with the "tumult" and "strife" of daily existence,  that I  don't hear many "far-off hymns" or have much "echoing in my soul" but exhaustion.  My life flows on in endless song but I'm in a soundproof booth!

 And I wonder: if I don't set aside sacred time to sing, to push against my  passionate edge and probe my spiritual core, how can I nurture this person who is becoming a minister, this woman who will encourage others to sing, dance, laugh, explore, pray, and be?  Will I be loud in the pulpit and mute in the choir loft?

  So, I must ask: how can I keep from singing, really singing ... all the time, everyday, even when I am weary?

 Each one of us could undoubtedly substitute a personal, sacred activity for "singing." Cooking, dancing, playing an instrument, traveling, doing yoga, Tai Chi or meditation, gardening, hiking, painting, sports, writing poetry  -- all of these activities can ground and round a person in unique and delightful ways.

 Yet, the common denominator is that the participant in the activity is actually caring for and invigorating his or her soul. To me, this time for what author Thomas Moore describes as "disciplined transcendence" is what we must devote considerable energy towards in order to stay spiritually and physically healthy, passionate, grounded, and able to manage the incredible challenges of contemporary life.

 So how can we keep from singing, really singing ... all the time, everyday, even when we're distracted and busy?

 You might be wondering about now: where is she going with all this rhapsodizing about singing? What does any of it have to do with work? with my job, my labors? Well,  I'd like to suggest that it is possible for work to provide some of the  deep, satisfying, and invigorating rewards that we find in the  avocations we enjoy  with such zest; that it may indeed be possible to merge our passions with our paychecks and, in effect, to "sing for our suppers."

 For this to become a reality, though, we need to restore  fullness to our work -- a sadly  dispirited dimension in our society -- as we focus anew on both the longings of our hearts and souls, and on the soul and heart of work itself.

 An interesting jumping off point for this reflection is the origin of the word "work." Its root is the Greek word "airgon" which means energy. Airgon is also the root word for "organ," as in a functioning entity. Function and output -- that's how we tend to bracket the meaning of work, especially in our streamlined, time-is-money milieu. The word "labor" comes from a Latin word meaning strength as well as burden. So, here we find a more holistic paradigm for work with pain and effort combined with creation and joy. Truthfully, I believe that "burdens" can and should be found, even in the work we love, and that it would be shallow work that was either always or never a burden.

 Our society has made the  error of pigeonholing "work"  in the secular realm of production and function...and that's a demoralizing modern concept. "At times, our work is frustrating or boring or a place of unfulfilled hopes. It can be a rut." Too often, we've forgotten that process and beauty are important, too. In olden days,  crafts people actually adorned their tools with images of nature; and factories were decorated with exquisite ornamentation.

 Work was upheld as noble and spiritual because it was perceived as part of an evolving Creation. The Shakers, who exemplify the merging of spiritual life and labor, offer us this insight from their Shaker Manifesto: "An earnest worker is one of God's true nobility. He is trying to do all he knows, and by respecting the gift, he respects the giver. There is as much worship in good workmanship done in the right spirit as there is in any other act."

 So, I ask again: How can we keep from singing as we go about our labors, really singing...all the time, everyday, even when we're having our performance reviewed  and trying to meet production quotas?

 Of course, this is a middle class conundrum. As my colleague Judith Cohen points out in her sermon on "Spirituality in the Workplace," those in love with their work are truly fortunate. Sadly, many in society don't have the luxury of choosing, and out of economic necessity, labor at jobs with little room for the spirit to flourish." I agree with my colleague, and assure you that I do not wish to insult these people as I stand before you to talk about spiritual fulfillment in the workplace.

 Here at First Parish, we are in the position to ponder these questions of fulfillment in our vocations. We can choose and we can act. Even so, plugging into passion and purpose in our current work or finding work that deeply satisfies us, requires opportunity, time to discern what our hearts and souls long for, and the courage to embrace the life that passionate, spiritual  work might require of us.

 Our work is spiritual when it has purpose. Ralph Waldo Emerson said: "the purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well." Our work is also spiritual when we replenish the resources of the earth and restore justice in some way to the larger human community.

 As we read earlier, "The pitcher cries for water to carry and a person for work that is real." The ideal is a job that supports us financially as well as spiritually and emotionally.  Getting to this ideal can take trial and error...In my own case, I've been a journalist, a TV producer, a game designer, a catering assistant, and a religious educator. There is a book on the market called "Do What You Love and the Money will Follow." And, I'll tell you, I've seen enough examples of this being true that I'm a believer. It's scary, it's hard, and its not for everyone, and that's fine...but it is doable; it is possible to "sing for your supper."

 One way to keep singing,  is to keep our passionate edges sharp, our spiritual cores well-lit, and to hold the two in a dynamic mutuality. When we encounter a colleague who visits his or her passionate edge on a regular basis, we are inclined to offer comments like," Wow, he is really dynamic," or "She is so engaging." You get the idea. These are folks that "submerge in the task."  Yet, I would venture to argue that many of the people who successfully navigate the passionate edge are the same ones who probe the spiritual core. This symbiosis  shapes the grace note that "sounds an echo" in each person's  soul.

  Clearly, we are not all perfectly-pitched virtuosos. Even so, each of us can develop a distinctive voice based on a sense of self, a sense of calling, and a  sense of the sacred.  We are individuals and our work should reflect  our eccentricities and unique callings, whether it be teaching, computer programming, managing a home and caring for a family,  carpentry, finance, service to our Parish, medicine, working for justice, clowning, plumbing, painting pictures of chickens, or even ministry.

 So, once again, I ask,  "How can  we keep from singing, really singing...all the time, everyday, even when those around us might think that we sing slightly off-key?"   And, in order for us to live from a deeper place in our work lives we absolutely need the community to support our individual passions, regardless of how unconventional they might seem.  We can also help one another within our communities of faith to decrease burnout and cynicism -- two of the most powerful realities of our times -- by engaging in meaningful dialogue about work and by truly listening with compassion and openness. This crucial  support can help to stave off what the Rev. William Sloane Coffin describes as the kind of "bone-centered weariness that leaves you too tired to get your rocking chair going when you finally find the time to sit down."

 In his timeless book, The Prophet, Kahlil Gibran writes: "Work is love made visible. And if you can not work with love but only with distaste, it is better that you should leave your work and sit at the gate of the temple and take alms of those who work with joy. For if you bake bread with indifference, you bake a bitter loaf that feeds but half a man's hunger. And if you sing though as angels, and love not the singing, you muffle man's ears to the voices of the day and the voices of the night."

 Each of us has a song to sing and a gift of love and service to share. For our community, I offer this prayer that our personal and professional lives will flow on in endless song, and be scored with sweet solos, soaring choruses, soulful ballads, grace notes, passionate anthems, and even a few clinkers:

O God,  how can we keep from singing, really singing?
Spirit of Life, remind us to sing,
teach us to sing,
hear our song.

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