4


On the first morning, everyone awoke early and traveled fast and went far into the bush. On the second morning, they all woke very early and traveled very fast and went very far into the bush. On the third morning, they all woke very early and traveled very fast and went even farther into the bush. The American seemed pleased. But on the fourth morning, the porters refused to move. They simply sat by a tree. Their behavior incensed the American. “This is a waste of valuable time. Can someone tell me what is going on here?” The translator answered, “They are waiting for their souls to catch up with their bodies.”


WAITING Continued from Page 3


The Bible calls waiting for the soul to catch up Sabbath. Regardless of the label, the effect is the same. It lets us stop long enough to connect, or reconnect as the case may be, with something quietly fundamental to being alive.


To be human in a world mesmerized by speed is tough. Down the road, I hopefully believe, something will snap. In my case, there is all this evidence that it will: while I sit on the back deck, the sun sets over the peninsula. The sky, as if batter poured from a pitcher, turns an effluence of slate blue and vermilion. Spires of hemlock stand in silhouette. And I stand, for some unknown reason, singing,


“Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog.” I am singing at the top of my lungs, doing a little boogie with my dog, who hasn’t the foggiest idea what’s come over me but is a sucker for a party and plays along nonetheless.


The moment melts around me before I regain my composure and give myself a reality check, a quiz requiring justification for what I’m feeling and why. And then it hits me. I can’t tell a soul about my dance at twilight without coming face-to-face with who I was pretending not to be and the energy it required to maintain that image.


When I lived in Southern California, I spent three days a month at a Benedictine monastery out in the high desert. On one visit, a friend asked one of the monks, “What exactly do you do here?”


“We pray,” the monk replied.


“No,” my friend persisted, “I mean really. What do you do?”


Creating Uncluttered Time: “Truth is, there is nothing holy or devout about the word Sabbath. It is about our basic need to quiet the internal noise. To separate ourselves from the people who cling to us. And to separate ourselves from the routines to which we cling.”


Ten Ways to Relax and Reconnect with God “I


’m so stressed out that I feel I’m going to explode!” a friend recently exclaimed.


I asked what was stressing her out. “I just don’t have enough hours in the day!” she said.


“There’s meals to fix, kids to get off to school, clients at the office, luncheon appointments, cleaning the house, paying the bills, helping the kids with their homework, the vestry at church—I just need to stop for a minute!”


Right. She needed to stop, maybe for more than a minute. But how could she? My friend felt pulled apart by competing demands, all of them pressing, all of them worthy. “I’m running as fast as I can just to stay where I am—and I’m not sure I’m succeeding,” she said. She saw herself growing increasingly anxious, exhausted, irritable, confused, and burned out.


Millions of people feel like that. They need a


sabbatical. That word comes from the Hebrew sha-bat— sabbath. In ancient times, every seventh day was set aside to do nothing. The Sabbath day wasn’t for tending to neglected chores, catching up on paperwork, or attending a meeting. It was for resting.


Sabbath time is like a field lying fallow. Land is renewed and recovers its strength when it lies fallow. The human soul and body need the same, but sabbath time is not valued today and is therefore often neglected. Ask someone what she did today, and she will hesitate to say, “Nothing—I did nothing.” But there’s nothing wrong with doing nothing. In fact, it is divine: after creating the world, God sat back for a while and did nothing.


The Sabbath got a bad name because the biblical Pharisees observed the Fourth Commandment (“Remember the Sabbath


“It is enough to pray,” the monk said.


“It is enough,” I tell my dog as we stand on the deck absorbing the summer sky, “just to boogie.” Just to boogie under the canopy of dusk. Just to feel your lungs breathe and your heart flutter. Just to cheer the sun as it sets and not give a damn about some need to fight back the tears, standing spellbound in the salty prism for twilight rainbows.


To sit still is a spiritual endeavor. To sit still is to practice Sabbath — meaning literally, to quit. To stop. To take a break. To create uncluttered time.


Truth is, there is nothing holy or devout about the word Sabbath. It is about our basic need to quiet the internal noise. To separate ourselves from the people who cling to us. And to separate ourselves from the routines to which we cling. At face value, it all sounds so essential, so inviting. But if that’s the case, then why is it that in the real world, stopping always feels like an interruption? What’s at stake here is not your “to-do” list, but an invitation to savor moments of silence, letting them work their magic.


Your deck for sitting still may not be a deck at all. It may be a pew. A subway car. A moment stolen away on the fire escape as city lights twinkle around you. It may be a particular path in a particular forest that speaks to you of the ages, of the mysteries of time. It may be a swath of the morning before the kids wake up, just you and the coffee and the empty kitchen. Silence can be found in many of life’s moments, if we stop. And listen.


That space, created by silence, represents sanity. For silence can be a fullness, rather than a void. It can allow the mind to run through its paces without any need for justification. It can let us recover — grab hold of — those parts of our selves the week leaves scattered and disparate. It’s all about what we can see when we slow down and let the silence descend. It’s about paying attention, which is, in the end, the only way to enter life, to live life fully. And you can’t be fully human without a Sabbath. X


This article first appeared in Trinity News. Reprinted with permission. Learn more at: terryhershey.com.


day and keep it holy”) with such rigid scrupulosity that it was anything but restful. Many people also experienced the “blue laws” in America, mandating that most businesses close on Sundays, as more of a burden than a blessing, with the result that blue laws have been abolished in most places. But God gave the Fourth Commandment for a reason, and the principle on which it is based is a sound one: healthy living requires sabbath time. It is a matter of finding the right balance and rhythm in your life.


To find and honor sabbath time will require a conscious decision, for the world does not encourage it. But if you make that decision, stick to it. You should probably make only small changes in your life at first, then add something more. Don’t set out to do so much that sabbath itself becomes just another


TEN WAYS Continued on page 5


Pierpaolo Pernici, pernici.net


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