Manage Well - Practice Sabbath

In my early 20s I worked for a time on a kibbutz in southern Israel. Since then I have been back to the region and been hosted by Jewish Israelis, Arab Israelis and Palestinian residents in the Palestinian Territories. And over time have development a profound longing for peace to come to this region of the world. When I think hope, when I long for goodness to triumph over evil, it is not long before Israel/Palestine comes to mind with the prayer, “bring peace in our time, O Lord.”

Working on the kibbutz was a terrific experience. We worked hard on that date farm, but we did not overwork. We were not driven. And one of the indicators of this was the assumption and practice of the kibbutz that no work was to be done on the Sabbath. Mid-afternoon on Friday we would be reminded that everything had to be wrapped up and stored way by sundown. And that an hour after sundown we were expected to join in the community in the central hall where the whole kibbutz gathered for a festive time. Good food, and then the tables moved to the side and the music and dancing took over. One memory is how my hosts were never very impressed with my dancing. They saw this to be a noteworthy gap in my moral, spiritual and emotional formation.

But even those of us who were a bit suspect on the dance floor, still observed Sabbath. What stayed with me from this has been the principle: the value inherent in the practice of sabbath that was so different from the legalism of my upbringing. But more, I learned something of what it meant to live with a rhythm of six and one and the value of this rhythm that for them was to be found in the very fabric of creation.

We can of course debate whether the Jewish Sabbath has continuing relevance for Christians or for a secular workplace. But I wonder if there is wisdom here that merits our attention, regardless of whether we think of this as a mandate or not. Some insist that this “law” is no longer relevant to either the contemporary Christian. And others observe that this cannot be imposed upon a secular social and cultural community. And yet, the wisdom of Sabbath rest is compelling.

As I have prayed for and longed for peace to come to this region this practice of Sabbath comes to mind. There are moments in which I am encouraged. The recent publication co-written by an Israeli and Palestinian is so very powerful: The Future is Peace, by Aziz Abu Sarah and Moaz Inon. But on other days I come close to despair if peace will happen in our time. And I wonder: When I long to sustain hopefulness for peace in this region, might the ancient Jewish practice of Sabbath have continuing relevance for me, precisely to this end?

The following comes to mind:

First, of course, the sheer reality that we need the rest; we need to be able to set aside inclination to feel vindicated by how much we get done – the length of our to-do list. With Sabbath, we are freed from the impossible and presumptuous assumption that we are indispensable. We are good at what we do; we make a valuable contribution, no doubt. But one day and seven we slow down we stop and rest. We starve any propensity we have to be driven to get more and more done.

Second, Sabbath frees us – if not immediately, then over time – from the consumerism of our society. Sure, neither Jew nor Christian can demand that we restore either Sabbath or Sunday laws. It is a secular society. But personally and within our own family systems, we can choose to take one day in seven when we let go of the need to buy and sell and consume. We can learn from our Jewish friends and forebearers the grace of contentment, to enjoy what we have rather than long for more.

Third and now more fundamentally, Sabbath gives us perspective. I refuse to make this entirely pragmatic, but in reality we need some emotional and intellectual distance on the responsibilities that cross our desk or our path. We have a greater sense of what truly needs to be one, what matters and merits our time and energy. We are better at saying “no” when we need to say no. And we have greater clarity and conviction about what it is that we need to do – that which is truly imperative. In other words, Sabbath observers are more effective in the long run.

Years ago I was asked to speak to medical students on the importance of Sabbath. I can still see them sitting there in the conference hall. Sceptics all of them, wondering what planet I came from, convinced that this person speaking surely had an easy job that I could step away from one day in seven. They viewed themselves as above it all and engaged in studies that demanded their full attention 24/7. I was struck but their hubris, but then also reminded of pastors who had this same view – eager to demonstrate that they were always on the job, always available for the people. Busy, busy busy. Surely the medical students who should know better: that the human body and the human brain needs leisure, needs play, needs rest to be most effective. And pastors surely know that their work is ultimately not their work.

Taken together, these various elements of sabbath disengagement do precisely what is needed – giving us rest, perspective and through regular practice, encouragement.

We come to see that the rhythm of six and one is good for the soul, good for our work and ultimately good for the communities of which we are a part. Thus the suggestion. First, that we each individually and personally find a way to bring Sabbath into our weekly rhythm. It may not be Saturday or even Sunday, especially if our work happens on Sunday: clergy, hospital staff, firefighters and law enforcement. But we can choose a day, as our first day of the week, as our Sabbath, to frame our lives and our engagement with the world from a posture of rest and hopefulness.

And then second to also make this an organizational practice. The facility is closed; it is our collective Sabbath. One day in seven we disengage and a quietness comes over the business, the college, the church facility, the art gallery. Then out of the quiet we gather on the first day of our working week and engage our shared mission. But we do so not with frenetic activity, not from panic or fear, not with impatience, but with a calm and measured disposition: we know individually and collectively what it means to do our work in a way that is informed by a resilient hopefulness. As we seek to be instruments of God’s peace, in our time.