June 17, 2012
the Rev. Kate Ekrem
So,
it works really well when you are working on a sermon on Sabbath time to go on
retreat, which is what I did this week. I gathered with some old friends, we
each shared what was going on in our lives, our challenges and joys and
frustrations, trying to get some perspective on it all, and then we went for a
hike. We climbed Mount Kearsarge in southern NH, and when we finally got out on
top, with a view stretching from Maine to Vermont, looking down at buildings
that looked like little dots, and someone said, well, there’s some perspective
for you. It almost goes without saying
that all of our concerns and worries
seemed very small, nothing God couldn’t handle.
Sabbath
is time given over to God, time to do nothing, time out of time, and especially
time not working. And you know what, not working is sort of hard work. Not
doing is something you have to deliberately do. In our Protestant tradition,
there is an emphasis on God’s grace, freely given. There is nothing, nothing
you need to do to earn God’s love. But what we sometimes forget in this
emphasis on God’s action is that while there is nothing we need to do to earn
our salvation, there are things we
need to do to live as if that were true, to live a resurrected life. Christianity
is a way, a way of life. And so it includes practices, things we do, like
prayer, stewardship, hospitality, serving those in need, even coming to church
on Sunday morning. And one of the most important of these practices is Sabbath.
On
Friday I brought communion to a group of elders in our congregation who get
together to get their hair done each week. People who were probably your Sunday
school teacher if you grew up here at Redeemer. I asked them about Sabbath back
in the day, and they reminded me that stores used to be closed on Sunday, not
just liquor stores but all stores, and there was basically nothing to do but go
to church, eat a meal with your family, talk with friends, and go for a Sunday
drive to nowhere in particular. That’s not a world we’re going to go back to in
our multi-faith context, but it’s worth remembering that the idea of checking your
email every day of the week is pretty new, not how our parents grew up.
It’s
worth noticing that things are faster now than they used to be, worth wondering
how that affects us. For example, I remember when Dave and I were first
married, we lived next door to one of the executive editors where I worked. The
company sent a car and driver for her every day from Brooklyn to Manhattan and
if we happened to be headed to the subway at just the right time, she’d give us
a ride. Once, we were in the back seat with her and her husband, and they both
had their Daytimers on their knees. Remember Daytimers? Anyway, they went
through whole week – you pick kids up, I have meeting, I’ll pick kids up, you
have appointment, kids have appt. Dave and I looked at each other: we’ll never
be like that. Because we knew, that is
life with no margin. Actually, we do do that, but with Google calendar on our
phones. But we try to plan for sabbath, too.
We
don’t have Sabbath built into our lives anymore, we have to make it for
ourselves. Have you heard of the idea of margin? Margin is not doing everything
that you are capable of doing.
Having
some margin means we need to say no and not feel guilty about it. Because it
gives us the ability to say yes. And it’s not just about time.
We
can have margin financially, by not spending everything we earn, right? I know
this is a whole lot easier said than done, but if we can, when we encounter someone
in need, we can give them something. Living beneath our means helps us be
generous in a fun way that’s not stressful
We
also need emotional margin, to take time for ourselves, to get that 30-40 mins
a day to ourselves that every human being needs as a minimum of down time, then
we’re able to be present to friend who needs
listening ear. We’re not feeling compassion fatigue, tuning out someone
who needs support.
And
of course we need a margin of time. Not doing all we could do with our time, gives
us ability to respond to an emergency, of ourselves or someone else, and to
give our time in service to others.
So
what would it be like to allow for some margin, not just in your own life but
the lives of others. Give them space, maybe even lower your expectations. What
if we lower our expectations of our kids, are they involved in too many things.
What about our spouses and partners, if we give them some room for themselves.
What about our our co-workers, or our employees, are we honoring the rest and
Sabbath of those who work for us?
Sabbath
is not working, but observing Sabbath time is a way of honoring our work. Of
standing back from it and seeing what we’ve accomplished. Sabbath time gives
our work a margin, like the frame of an artwork, or the matting of a fine
print. Look what I did, and it is good. Just like God said after God made
creation, and the rested.
Look
around at creation. You don’t have to stand on top of a mountain to see that
God is working in the world, even when we’re not. Go for a walk. On the bike
path or around our labyrinth. Let this world around you put your own life in
perspective. Notice that God makes all these beautiful things grow. How much
more is God looking out for you. I think Jesus might have said something about
that.
Jesus also said, in our Gospel reading today, "The kingdom of God is as if someone who scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would grow, and he does not know how. The earth produces of itself." We may plant, we need to plant, but we have to stop fussing with things and let the seed grow. God gives it the growth, we know not how. Trust God to do that. Let nature be your sanctuary, a reminder
of the work God does while we are sleeping and resting.
And
because to me Sabbath is somehow linked with poetry, I want to leave you with
this Sabbath poem by Wendell Berry.
I
go among the trees and sit still.
All
my stirring becomes quiet
Around
me like circles on water.
My
tasks lie in their places where I left them asleep like cattle.
Then
what is afraid of me comes
And
lives a while in my sight.
What
it fears in my leaves me,
And
the fear of me leaves it.
It
sings, and I hear its song.
…
After
days of labor,
Mute
in my consternations,
I
hear my son at last,
And
I sing it…
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