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I fell in love with the Sabbath many years ago when my work took me to Israel. Until then, I’d never thought much about the Sabbath, except to be annoyed when stores were closed on Sunday and I needed to buy something. In Israel, to my amazement—in the midst of fear and violence, with a backdrop of suicide bombings, missiles, gas masks, and bomb shelters—I discovered this gem of a spiritual practice that has nourished me ever since.
I admit that when I arrived in Israel, I wasn’t thinking about spiritual practices. In truth, I found it a huge frustration to have everything shut down one day each week. Public transportation stopped, and I had no car. Nearly everything was closed—malls, movie theaters, museums. What was I going to do with this empty day?
It took me a while to adjust to this unfamiliar rhythm, to realize that I was being given a holiday once a week.
Most Friday nights, a colleague would invite me home for dinner. There was no place else to go, nothing else to do, so we spent long evenings savoring the abundant food and conversation. It felt like Thanksgiving, but without the drama. My Saturdays were quiet days. Sometimes I slept in, or read, or went for a walk. Sometimes a friend with a car would take me to a national park.
Whatever I did, I couldn’t run errands and no one expected me to work. No one ever called me with a work question on the Sabbath. In fact, it was unusual for the telephone to ring at all.
This downtime was particularly notable because Israelis are the hardest working people I’ve ever met. They’re incredibly productive, keeping long hours during the workweek. How do they do it? I’d guess it has something to do with taking Sabbath time.
The Jewish Sabbaths I’ve experienced weren’t only about rest; they were also about pleasure. I know this may sound counter to those of you whose image of the Sabbath includes strict rules and discomfort—scratchy restrictive clothing, enforced quiet, prohibitions against dancing or singing or playing, and long hours in church or synagogue.
Orthodox Jews do observe long lists of prohibitions, but my experience of Orthodox Sabbaths was joyous, not dour. Jews do sing and dance on the Sabbath. Following G-d’s example in Genesis, what’s prohibited is the work of creation. Sabbath restrictions give Jews time to slow down—to appreciate each other and the everyday beauty surrounding us. In fact, in Jewish tradition, making love on the Sabbath is considered a special mitzvah—a particularly good thing.
The Jewish Sabbath is ushered in and out by beautiful rituals. It begins at sunset on Friday by gathering family, lighting candles, singing prayers, blessing the children, and enjoying a festive meal. Some of you may remember the scene in “Fiddler on the Roof” in which a Jewish peasant family puts on their finest clothes and sets a beautiful table to welcome the Sabbath. In Jewish tradition, everyone rests on the Sabbath, even the poorest, hardest working folks.
The Jewish Sabbath also ends with ritual. When three stars appear in the sky Saturday evening, Jews light a special braided candle and then douse it in a cup of wine. We also sniff cinnamon or cloves to carry the sweet memory of the Sabbath with us into the workweek.
There’s a lot of wisdom in these ancient practices—everyone taking Sabbath time together, marking the Sabbath with ritual and the setting sun, observing special rules that remind us that this is holy time.
What about you? How might you create holy time in your life, balancing work and rest, doing and being, creating and appreciating creation?
Quest for Meaning is a program of the Church of the Larger Fellowship (CLF).
As a Unitarian Universalist congregation with no geographical boundary, the CLF creates global spiritual community, rooted in profound love, which cultivates wonder, imagination, and the courage to act.