Margaret's Bench -- November 2007
Thus the heavens and the
earth were finished, and all their multitude.
And on the seventh day God finished the work
that he had done, and he rested on the seventh
day from all the work that he had done. So God
blessed the seventh day and hallowed it, because
on it God rested from all the work that he had
done in creation.
— Genesis 2:1-2
When we do not keep Sabbath,
our life is a list.
— Donna Shaper, Sabbath Keeping
I’m deeply attached to my “To Do” list. How
would I live without it? The tasks swirl around me, and at times
I’m frozen, drowning in a sea of possibilities. I need to write
them down, put them in some kind of order, simply to choose what
to do next.
And so the trap quietly closes. In imperceptible stages, my “To
Do” list turns from servant to master. The lists multiply. What
to do today. What to do this week. Lists of books I want to read
when I have time to read them, which I don’t right now, because
of this ever-lengthening list of tasks to do. Lists of things I
want to buy when I happen to find myself in a fruitful shopping
environment, which won’t be today, because I don’t have time to
go to the mall.
Managing
the lists. Crossing things off, carrying the uncrossed items
forward. Before I know it, I’m Gulliver, tied down by a thousand
tiny ropes.
Once when I was traveling, I left a notebook in a phone booth at
the LAX airport. This notebook contained my “To Do” list, phone
numbers I might need on my trip, lists of items I wanted to buy
when I was in the right store, and a variety of other self-help
reminders I’d jotted down in the weeks leading up to the trip. I
didn’t realize I’d left the notebook behind until seated on the
plane and taxiing down the runway.
First reaction: Panic!!!
And then, to my surprise, a wonderful flood of relief and
adventure washed over me. Suddenly, I was free. I realized that
I could remember what was really important to do. I could
retrieve the phone numbers I needed in other ways. And if I
forgot the things I meant to buy, then how much did I really
need them?
It’s a balance, of course. I live in this world, have
obligations, and need my calendar to remember what they are. And
when all the possible things to do swirl around me, it does help
to write them down and set priorities, as long as I can remember
that my list is a servant, and not the Master.
In
that spirit, during the last few months I’ve tried to give
myself one true day of rest a week: to keep a Sabbath. I define
my personal Sabbath as one continuous 24-hour period in which I
don’t do professional work, housework, church work, or anything
that fulfills some inner sense of duty or obligation—anything
that might fall on a “To Do” list. No e-mail. If I take a walk, it’s for
pleasure alone, not because I meant to take a walk yesterday and
didn’t get it done, and not because taking a walk is good for me
(a distinction that requires some discernment).
My first Sabbath was so wonderful—suddenly, time enough for
everything, time to rest, time to read, time to breathe—that I
vowed to do it every week, just like the Bible tells me to. But
in the past three months, I’ve only managed to pull off three
Sabbaths. Each one fell on a Saturday. Sundays don’t work for
reasons obvious to many church-goers: the more involved I am at
church, the more labor-intensive Sundays become. This may or may
not be God’s work; it is definitely not God’s day of rest.
But just because I haven’t managed to do keep Sabbath every
week, just because this particular task—or no, let’s call it a
goal—or maybe an intention?—turns out to be harder to fulfill
than expected, doesn’t mean I’m giving it up. A quiet voice deep
inside urges me to try, try again, and assures me that keeping
Sabbath will be worth the practice.
-- Margaret
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