Keep the Sabbath

Thoughts on restoration and renewal

"Six days shall work be done: but the seventh day is the sabbath of rest, an holy convocation; ye shall do no work therein: it is the sabbath of the Lord in all your dwellings." —Leviticus 23:3

Sunday is considered a day of rest in our culture, for Christians and secularists alike, and many people of other faiths living in this country have adopted it too. Over the centuries we've taken this to mean "a day of rest from going to work" but it's rare for it to truly be a day of rest. Sunday is the day for mowing the lawn, washing the car, cooking large meals, catching up on email, going to the cash and carry, or any number of other jobs we don't have the time during the week to complete. And when we do "rest" it is usually in front of the TV being tube-fed entertainment, and maybe falling asleep after eating too much. So to the letter of the law, if we're not at work we are technically not working and when on the sofa we are technically resting but our implementation of the law most commonly fails to touch its spirit. The word rest at the time Leviticus was written was intimately entwined with the idea of renewal, or regaining (spiritual) balance.

During the past month I've had cause to question my own ability to renew. With frequent trips, both home and abroad, the month of September was rather a whirlwind of activity with little time for stillness or reflection. Ironically I facilitated three workshops in September all of which had a section dedicated to reflection and renewal. It began to feel like a case of "take my advice; I never use it."

In the past few days I've slowed down and at least have thought about renewal, and what it might mean to me. Making scripture relevant to our current lives is challenging. We can take it literally, or we can interpret it to such an extent that the original spirit disappears. I think the balance comes, not from dissecting and reconstructing each word or phrase in a modern context but in finding the metaphor—and our metaphors will always be of our time. My metaphor for resting, in terms of the sabbath, is listening. In a very simple sense resting is pausing, standing still, breathing, looking around me; it means waiting, not acting. It means opening my ears, my heart and my spirit to what is being asked of me. And it is rare that I take the time to do this, rushing forward like most of us to the next important thing, quite forgetting that I rarely know what that actually is.

Reading the Sabbath law in Exodus gives a more nuanced understanding:

"Six days you shall do your work, but on the seventh day you shall rest, so that your ox and your donkey may have relief, and your homeborn slave and the resident alien may be refreshed." —Exodus 23:12

This indicates that our rest is not for ourselves but to the benefit of those we depend on, and who depend on us. In other words, if we don't take time for renewal, others suffer. For me those others are my wife, children, close friends, work colleagues, and those I serve. And it's true. The more I become caught up in my own plans and desires the more I become entrapped in the bondage of self, and the less freedom I then have to be present for the needs of others. I become self-centred when I need to be other-centred. Taking time to pause, to listen, to let go, creates the opportunity to move forward, restored, renewed and a little more aware. At least until the rush of life sweeps me up again.

I did a poor job of keeping the Sabbath in September. This month I commit to finding more time to do nothing. Watching the trees surrender their leaves is a good backdrop for letting go, and trusting that the rhythm of life will renew me in its own time.

September News

This newsletter is a week late. I doubt anyone is watching the calendar, but I am. I don't do well with deadlines. Something more interesting, or more pressing may come along and jump the queue. As it did this week. September was a busy month in any case, with frequent trips to Sheffield, two days in Brussels, nine days in Palo Alto, California, various workshops and Asrai starting "uniform school" (her term). This past week both Rayna and Asrai have been unwell, requiring me to be a full-time house-husband, a job I relish by the way, but it does rather absorb me and leaves little time for much else—like writing newsletters.

September was also a time of conkers, cascading from the trees on Twickenham Green, bouncing off the grass and the nearby cars. We collected as many as we could, simply to admire their beauty and feel their hard, smooth roundness in our hands. The girls use them as various objects in their make-believe play, most commonly chocolates. I've had to make-believe eat quite a few.

And now October is here, crackling leaves and blustery wind. Enjoy the colours.

Tobias

September Writing ... and Video

7th October 2017, 11.59 pm