I remember when we first moved to Maine in 1983, blue laws were standard. Perhaps you remember them. Basically, they meant that stores were closed on Sunday, a legislated way of preserving the Sabbath. Through the years though, the laws changed, and stores were allowed to be open seven days a week – though initially alcohol sales were still prohibited. If you went into the grocery store on Sunday, the liquor aisle was roped off.
It was actually reminiscent of my childhood in New Jersey. We went to church every Sunday morning, came home to a huge dinner featuring a roast or ham or leg of lamb and one of my mother’s delicious desserts. Then we spent the rest of the day hanging out with family or doing homework. It was truly a day to rest and restore.
Now, of course, Sunday is hardly a day of relaxation or restoration. For many if not most people in Maine, Sunday is the busy catch up day. We do our grocery shopping on Sunday or head to Home Depot or Lowes for the necessary supplies for the latest Do It Yourself project designed to keep us busy. We rush to watch our children or grandchildren play soccer on Sunday morning. We take our kids to their weekly voice lesson or a swimming meet.
In short, we have so lost the concept of Sabbath, having too long been pushed or pulled by our cultural norms or simply swept along. Sabbath is no longer a day to rest in God, a day to stop and smell the roses blooming all about us for no other reason than to stop for a moment and breathe in their intoxicating fragrance. Sabbath has turned into a day just as stressful as the other six – and it is taking a toll on each one of us.
In the United States – more so than in most nations – our culture measures success by how busy we are, the busier the better. Always being on the go signifies that we are being productive, and that is good.
And so we feel naked without our smart phones. We say we hate email but most of us still feel compelled to check it at least several times a day, so we will not miss anything important. We would be lost without the virtual connections social media is supposed to offer us. We text in our cars and in restaurants. We listen for the telltale jingle of a message when we sit with our families around the dining room table. We are proud of the fact that we multi-task and even prouder if we only get five hours of sleep a night - though four would be better. Not a single one of us would ever admit to watching soap operas in the afternoon as we sit around eating bonbons.
Whether we are retired or still working, “a hectic pace” is an apt phrase to describe the way most of us have chosen to live. And yet, as Mahatma Gandhi once observed, “There is more to life than increasing its speed.”
Is it any wonder then that most – if not all of us – deep down inside – or maybe at the surface - experience a weariness: a tiredness that wells up from all the crazy and complex intersections and twists and turns of our life journey – the physical frailties, all the emotional heartbreaks, what is going on with our children and grandchildren, and - no matter your political proclivities - even the despicable and divisive stuff going on in Washington these days.
Sometimes it is a blow that we do not even see coming that knocks us flat, but more often, it all just piles up. We grow tired, deep soul tired.
To compensate, some of us turn to eating. Others of us binge watch “Endeavour” or “Outlander" or "Bridgerton.” Some of us turn to Amazon and shop. Or we rely on the self-help shelves at Bridgton Books.
Maybe it is just because I am a pastor, but I do not believe that any of those solutions for our lives lived too fast work in the long term. And so I turn to the last couple of verses of the Gospel reading.
Here’s one translation: “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”
Sabbath rest no longer comes naturally to us, and so it takes practice. But it is well-deserved practice. As Christian author Tricia Hersey noted, “We must believe we are worthy of rest. We don’t have to earn it. It is our birthright. It is one of our most ancient and primal needs.” Consequently, she continues, “We cannot wait for the perfect space or opportunity to rest. Rest is not an extra treat that we must run to but more of a lifelong, consistent, and meticulous love practice.”
And so I suggest that we take her advice, turn to God, and commit to a truly lived Sabbath now – this summer – in order to find the solace that deep down inside we seek.
Beginning today and for the next few weeks of summer, I challenge you to experiment and spend some time actually resting in a Sabbath sort of way. I challenge you to seek a spiritual antidote for the busyness that leads to weariness that encroaches on our lives.
I challenge you to reflect on how you might re-connect to God, who, in the end, is so unhurried, who always has the time to love and to forgive.
Let’s begin to answer that challenge together by reflecting on those couple of verses we just heard found only in the Gospel of Matthew, the ones that have ended up on countless prayer cards and been underlined in a boatload of Bibles.
“Come to me all you who labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.”
Admit it: These words sound like music to our weary hearts and souls. This promise of rest from that family crisis, that impending surgery, or that scary medical diagnosis is so sweet, so hopeful, so refreshing!
“Come to me all you who labor and are heavy-laden…” You can bet that Jesus knew what he was talking about. He understood this weariness business. People were after him all the time – stripping him bare – needing healing, needing forgiveness, needing hope, needing courage, needing something. He knew what it was like to live on empty. He can relate to our own lives – day in and day out.
However, his promise does not end there. Jesus continues: “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
But our schedules are so full – between work, family, summer guests, and other obligations – that the mere suggestion of a yoke that could be “easy” and a burden that could be “light” seems absurd.
In these few verses in the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus indicates that the yoke is what provides our needed strength. Many Bible translations read that this yoke is “easy”. However, a better translation is “well-fitting”. This yoke is “well-fitting”. That makes sense. Even for an ox, a heavy burden is bearable if the yoke fits.
And so it is with us: Jesus offers us a yoke that fits. As author Eric Eines remarks, “he offer(s) you the chance to do exactly the work that you were created to do – the work that brings you most fully alive. And he’s offering to help you.”
That also makes sense because yokes are made for two. When Jesus says, “take my yoke upon you”, he is inviting you to share his yoke. He is in the other half of it, connecting with you in such a way that the two of you are working together.
That is what makes the yoke easy. That is what makes the burden light. When you are sharing the yoke, you cannot help but find your right tempo. When you are sharing the yoke, you never face your life stressors alone.
If we take Jesus’ promise seriously, could this summer be a time to lighten our burden and intentionally close our eyes, kick off our shoes, and rest our souls? Could this summer be a time to intentionally exhale the stress and inhale the goodness of life? Could this summer be a time to more closely link ourselves to Jesus and deepen our relationship with the Holy One?
I challenge you to slow down enough to reflect on that idea of the easy yoke - and experiment with it this summer. Let’s intentionally put our lives on pause. Instead of multitasking and texting and checking our phone so frequently, let’s try being thoughtful about the life we are living right now and the life we want to live. Instead of accomplishing more, volunteering more, working more, let’s slow down long enough to find our right tempo and get into our unique groove.
It will not be easy, but let’s try to at least search for (if not find) our quiet center, our right tempo, our unhurried God.
Perhaps you will begin and end each day with the Serenity Prayer:
God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time,
enjoying one moment at a time;
accepting hardship as a pathway to peace;
taking, as Jesus did,
this sinful world as it is,
not as I would have it;
trusting that You will make all things right
if I surrender to Your will;
so that I may be reasonable happy in this life
and supremely happy with You forever in the next.
Maybe you will set aside a specific place to pray – and intentionally go there once a day – if only for a few moments.
Maybe you will turn off your cell phone and computer for a day – or just an evening - each week – or participate in one contemplative practice on a regular basis, such as Yoga, Qigong, meditative walking, or journaling.
Maybe you will make a summer Sabbath calendar with one “unhurried” activity for each day – like shutting your eyes for 5 minutes or imagining a restful nature scene.
These suggestions may not sound like much, but if you commit to one small discipline this summer that will slow you down, release you from worry and fear, or help you to be more self-reflective, I am so sure that you will find your right tempo in this fast paced world we live in. I trust you will rediscover your Sabbath.
In closing then, let’s slow down right here – just to see what it feels like. And so I invite you to close your eyes or soften your gaze. I invite you to visualize what each line of this brief meditation might look like.
Let’s begin by taking a deep breath in – and a long breath out....
Relax in the presence of God – cooling, refreshing, loving, embracing
Let the peace of Christ wash over you – like the waves of the ocean or the ripple of a mountain stream
Listen to the Spirit encouraging you to slow down and rest. It might be a whisper or a nudge. It might be being conscious of your breathing in and out – lots of love in and lots of love out.
Let go of your expectations – and the expectations others have of you.
Let them roll off of you or be lifted from your shoulders. For a moment, throw away your to do list. And give your body time to heal.
Enjoy the companionship of God – embracing, enfolding, loving, forgiving -
and be confident that nothing more is necessary.
Now slowly open your eyes and whisper to yourself: 'This is my Sabbath – and I deserve every moment of it.'
Amen and Amen.
