Tonight I begin sabbath rest – something that I have not had in three weeks. The last day I called sabbath was August 4th, 2011. That day was particularly a great day for me. I woke up and cooked buttermilk pancakes, read the newspaper, mowed the lawn and read Bishop Wilke’s “Are We Yet Alive,” a somewhat depressing treatise on the denomination that I love (and believe has a wonderful, glorious future).
I highlight the details because, for me, everything done thereafter became a three-week blur. Better yet, as the days went on, the blur increased and my attention to details became less and less perspectival and more and more moment-by-moment. While our beloved Word of God is very clear that we must keep the sabbath holy, some of us clergy allow perceptions to rule reality. In my case, these last two-and-a-half weeks were a space in time where I did what I thought was right (which may have actually been wrong for me). In hindsight I should have taken a day off.
In all actuality I am better and more alert and focused with a day off. Sabbath it essential and somehow I get tripped up too by taking it for granted. At the height of the momentum of the French version of enlightenment, a ten-day week was attempted. It was very quickly found out to be an epic failure and the seven-day week returned. Largely because we are all designed for sabbath rest. When we don’t receive it, we become less aware, less responsive; less effective in our lives.
Tomorrow – I take sabbath. Praise be to God!