Lent Day 18: Rest

I knew on Friday something was off.

I was in one of my favorite spaces for working-- beautiful, serene, full of light-- and I was having a terrible time. I was trying to finish my meditation for Sunday, and I had all the attention span of an excited puppy, but with none of the energy. 

Writing sentences was like pulling my own teeth (without the pain but with all the effort). I knew I was excited about the passage--I'd had the most wonderful conversation about it with the Bible Study group earlier in the week. But I couldn't summon that excitement in the moment, and it felt like the task of Sisyphus to summon the willpower to keep going,

I am not very good at understanding when I am getting sick. Usually, if there's going to be a fever, I cry at some point, but I didn't cry. I just felt off, and found concentration very, very hard. I even attempted a nap, though anxiety about what I still had to do for Sunday wouldn't let it happen.

I was getting sick, but I was experiencing it as a moral failing. My body was sending me signals that all was not well physically, but I experienced it as failing at being productive. 

It took another 24 hours, and undeniable evidence of a virus, before I understood what was happening, and that I would not be capable of going to church on Sunday morning. 

It took another 6 hours after that to understand that I also wouldn't be capable of video-calling in to the service. 

And another 10 hours to finalize the last bit of coverage with a church member, which involved somehow breaking into my office to get a book for the Sunday School kids in Child Care.

This takes us up to 7 AM Sunday.

It was not lost on me, during all this, that our devotional cards seemed to be speaking directly to me. Here are the weekend's reminders for the day.

Friday:

Humans need seven
types of rest - creative,
emotional, mental, 
physical, spiritual,
social, and sensory.
Which of these areas
have you protected?
Which needs 
protecting?

Saturday:

Allow
yourself
space and
time to rest.

Sunday:

You are worthy
of Sabbath
time.

Monday:

Your worth is not
rooted in your
productivity.

(I include Monday in the "weekend" because I was still pretty weak, even though the symptoms had resolved on Sunday.)

I know I'm not unique in struggling with maintaining Sabbath time. Clergy are notoriously bad at this, though I have generally thought of myself as having a pretty reasonable work-life balance, and I also believe in it. It's not a suggestion to us; our sacred writings command it, not because God is a kill-joy, but quite the opposite. Human beings are deserving of rest.

Yet, it took me being confronted with incontrovertible evidence (fatigue and inability to focus, actual symptoms, worsening symptoms, new symptoms) to let go of plans, to share responsibilities, and, finally, to rest, which I began to do about 40 hours after the whole thing got rolling.

I couldn't let go of the idea that I was being self-indulgent.

I am incredibly fortunate in that I was able to share the resources to allow other people to step into my Sunday roles. I have fantastic colleagues in ministry and leadership who were happy to do whatever they could. I was able to message someone on Sunday morning to take care of that last bit of business, and they were happy to help. My direct deposit salary will be the same, despite the fact that I did not go to church on Sunday morning.

Not everyone has the kind of job where it works out this way. For most people missing work means  missed wages, and increased financial pressure, and the possibility of not making rent or the mortgage payment. The kind of work I do protects me from those kinds of outcomes due to a brief illness, but I know plenty of people for whom missing the main thing they are supposed to do that week means true financial hardship.

Not everyone does the kind of work that allows them the kind of rest Sabbath was meant to provide. I'm guessing, most people struggle to take Sabbath at all, and it has nothing to do with self-criticism and everything to do with a child's medical bills, or the heating bill, or being able to replace failing tires on the car.

Eventually, despite the way my brain was working against me, I was able to take the rest I needed, and I'm deeply grateful for it.

But our culture has made getting a three-day bug unaffordable for the vast majority of its workers, and that is a societal failing on the deepest level. 

We can do better. We must find a way for all people to find the space and time to rest. 

We must do better.

Full to the Brim devotional card,
from @sanctifiedart.

(PS, FYI, not Covid. Just your bog-standard bug.)

Lent Days 21-22: Sabbath

Today's reading from the Hebrew Scriptures is from Leviticus. Leviticus has a bad rep among progressives, because it is a book that has been badly misused by Christians who want to condemn and exclude LGBTQIA+ folks from the blessed community. So now, the very name of the book 'Leviticus" elicits a "NOPE" response in many of us, and that is too bad.

Much (most?) of Leviticus is about worship, about special days of holy rest, and about Sabbath.

The passage appointed for this morning, Leviticus 23:26-41 (you can find it here) concerns the establishment of two major Jewish observances/ celebrations, the Day of Atonement (think: at-one-ment!) and the Festival of Booths, or Sukkoth.

But the parts of the passage that spoke to me were about the Sabbath-keeping involved in those days and weeks. Over and over in the passage I read,

"... and you shall do no work that day" (verses 28, 31);

"It shall be a sabbath of complete rest..." (Verse 32);

"you shall not work at your occupations" (verses 35, 36);

"a complete rest on the first day [of Sukkoth]; a complete rest on the eighth day" (verse 39).

Jews are better at Sabbath than Christians. They work at it, they make it a priority, they weave it concretely into both faith and practice, and, as a result, they shine as an example that I really think we should more closely emulate.

The theology underlying Sabbath is one Christians share with Jews; we take Sabbath to remind us that God is God, and we are not; to remind us that even our holiest stories say that God took Sabbath after the work of creation; and also to remind us that we are not slaves who belong to other humans, but people wholly owned by God. (Of course, the legacy of slavery is very real and devastating, both for Jews and for African Americans.  In no way do I seek to minimize that.)

I had been pretty bad at taking a Sabbath until my partner, Sherry, decided she would start taking a day off (in addition to Sunday) from her work as a small-business-owner. This is a little tricky for her, a little more expensive than just working herself on that day (and not paying one of her terrific co-workers). But she came to the conclusion she needed it, and so she took the day I've always said was my sabbath, Friday.

Sabbath acquisition.

As a result, I started taking Friday more seriously as a day off, too.

Now Fridays are days when we rise a little later, when we cook most of our meals (but certainly also enjoy an evening out, too). Fridays are days when we might run errands or we might decide to watch every episode of a compelling Netflix series. They are days when we practice self-care-- haircuts, a monthly massage. Walks at the park or around the neighborhood.

We don't always do everything together on Fridays-- last week I had lunch and a movie with my friend L., and it was fabulous! But the rhythm of Sabbath is something we have developed together, which has made it easier to stick to.

Every so often, Sher has to work on Friday. After about a fifteen months of taking Sabbath seriously, those are hard days for me. My instinct is to work, too-- finish the sermon, get a head start on the bulletin for next week. My Sabbath is tied to her Sabbath. But my hope is to get better at taking it consistently, even when Sher is not available to share the day with me.

For a long time I've had MaryAnn McKibben Dana's book, "Sabbath in the Suburbs: A Family's Experiment With Holy Time," on my to-read list. Dana conducted a year-long immersion in practicing Sabbath with her husband and three children, and wrote about it. She was spurred on to doing this by a life that was crazy busy, as in, “Life felt like a 500-piece jigsaw puzzle with 600 pieces.” They found a way. I want to deepen my own Sabbath-keeping by seeking a way to practice it, even when I do not have my partner to share it with me.

How about you? How are you at taking Sabbath seriously? Maybe we (who have not already done so) should read MaryAnn's book together?

Lent Day 14-15: Done

I couldn't do it yesterday. I kept thinking, "Later!" And then, I finished my newsletter articles at 10:45 pm, after a wonderful and challenging meeting that was all about our congregation's financial health... and I was done.

Done!

Not even the energy for an episode of my new TV crush, "This Is Us." (I know. I'm three years behind. This is how I do TV. I never catch up.)

... Let alone the energy to bring myself into the presence of scripture with the intention of writing something intelligible (or even... ok).

But it's ok. It really is.

... for you, God, have been my help,
    and in the shadow of your wings I sing for joy.
My soul clings to you;
    your right hand holds me fast.   ~ 63:7-8

In those moments when we are done, we can be done. In those moments when the tank is utterly empty, and is running on what is only the wistful memory of fumes, God our Helper steps in...

[Side note: I know I want this to be more spiritual reflection than bible study, but.... I yam what I yam, as Popeye said... The word for "help," or "helper" in Hebrew is ezer. This is the same word that is used in the second Genesis creation story, the one in which God seeks to make a "helper" for the lonely human. That helper is the woman, and then, for the first time, woman and man are differentiated. But the word "helper" is used in scripture, almost exclusively, for God. God is our first, and, of course, greatest, helper. Womankind, behold the royal nature of what it means to be a "helper." It is a God-infused and noble role. There is no sound biblical argument that it implies otherwise.]

I can find it so hard to rest in the care of my Helper. I don't believe I am alone in that. Last night I hung on, on the computer, because my newsletter stuff was already 6 (gulp!) days late, and that's just wrong. And in a fit of-- well, of knowing that next week looks much the same, I got a start on the Wednesday midweek bulletin.

You know how it goes. We get into a mindset that it all depends on us. (I mean, some stuff does. I'm the only one who can write my newsletter article.)

When does that start? When do we get the message that we are responsible for All of It, and buy into it? Even as a pastor of a church, that is a false understanding of what it means to serve in my role. There are always other companions in this work, and I'm at my healthiest when I realize it.

A couple of years ago I caught "Big Little Lies," the HBO series based on the great Liane Moriarty novel. There's a high-powered, but somewhat frustrated-with-her-life character, Madeline Martha McKenzie, and she has a daughter, a 6 or 7-year-old named Chloe. Chloe is obsessed with music-- all kinds, she's a musical omnivore-- and she's also obsessed with finding the right music for every situation. In particular, she seems to be responsible-- she seems to have assumed responsibility-- for curating her mother's moods.

Darby Camp as Chloe McKenzie in "Big Little Lies." 

I recognized myself in Chloe. I was that daughter to my mother. It's a role that inevitably leads to stress, and then a fissure, and then a rupture, if the child is going to develop in healthy way. At some point, she will need to put her own emotional needs before her mother's.

I was responsible, at a fairly young age, for All of It.

No longer.

I am responsible for myself, and to be God's person in a world where God's love is badly needed. I am responsible in particular and intense ways to my beloveds, from my partner and children to my friends and congregants. But I am also responsible for letting God hold it all with me. I am responsible for remembering that I am not God, and for living and acting accordingly.

This means, for one thing, taking Sabbath.

Which, as it happens, I am about to do, right now.

I am responsible for remembering that God is my helper-- the most powerful, the most loving, the most understanding, the most tender knower of my faults and sins-- and for letting God in.

God's powerful right hand holds me, holds me fast.

Even.... especially.... when I am done.