Sabbath

Back Porch Sabbath

Gentle Reader, slowing down to rest is not easy for me. I like to be busy, to juggle multiple projects and responsibilities. Busyness gives me a sense of purpose and accomplishment, and I’m embarrassed to say, even a sense of meaning. But the meaning of my life, myself, has to be more than my activities, more than my accomplishments, such as they are. Someday, I will no longer be able to do those things. For this reason, I am grateful for the Sabbath.

After the Mass, the back porch is the perfect place to enjoy the Sabbath. There, I can hear birdsong and feel the breeze on my skin. I can ponder the gift of my life, the gift of self-awareness.

My pondering won’t result in any answers. Instead, it will remind me that there is more to life than my daily activities. It will renew my appreciation for Mystery.

Sabbath

Sunday afternoon at home

As a teenager living in Wisconsin, Sundays were a challenge for me. At that time, all the stores were closed on Sundays. After morning church, there was a long wait for the roast in the oven. In the afternoon, there was nothing on TV except the polka parties. Elderly couples danced the polka round and around in circles for hours. I thought they would never stop, but apparently they did, since I am now older myself, and it’s been many years since I’ve seen a polka party on TV.

As an adult, like many people, I quickly succumbed to the busyness of life. Sundays became similar to every other day, filled with tasks, shopping, and distractions. It was sometime after my conversion to Catholicism that I began to consider the Sabbath again.

Now, I relish these long Sunday afternoons (even though there is still not much on TV). When I keep Sunday as a day of rest, I seem to have lots of energy during the rest of the week. However, when I busy myself with tasks and shopping, I seem to be frazzled for the rest of the week. It appears that the Sabbath was indeed made for man, not man for the Sabbath.

Who knew?