Rest, renew and reconnect--Leviticus 26 and our need for a Sabbath

 “…Then the country will indeed observe its Sabbath,
all the while it lies deserted…”
(Leviticus 26::34)

 Leviticus 26 tells of blessings and curses.  If Israel lives according to God’s commandments, they will be blessed and fruitful and live in peace, “go to sleep with no one to frighten you.” (Lev 26:6).  But if they don’t listen to God, if they turn from His path, reject God’s laws and “detest My customs…” they will be subjected to terror, sickness and infirmity. (26:14-16)  And, they will become so desperate that they will even eat the flesh of their own children and be so filled with fear they will take flight at the “sound of a falling leaf” and flee even when no one is pursuing them (26:29-37).  But in the midst of all this horror, flight and destruction, something that stood out to me was this strange statement about the land being given its Sabbath.  That observation is strange.  Why would God refer to the land observing its Sabbath?

 

To my ear, I hear an affirmation of God’s love and of His truthfulness. I hear the message that the Sabbath isn’t something we are to treat as optional.  Regardless of how we feel about it or choose to react to it, there will be a Sabbath for the land.  It isn’t just a recommendation or even a regulation; it is a fact.  Because God says it, it is an actuality. God’s Word isn’t an opinion or a preference, it is truth.  We need the Sabbath, because we were made that way. And our creator is simply reminding us that even if we don’t choose to honor the necessity of a Sabbath, it will come; whether we like it or not.

 

And, of course, science and nature have repeatedly shown us the importance of a “Sabbath,” of a period of rest.  Land that is over worked and exhausted becomes barren and useless. People who are overworked and exhausted become anxious and fearful, unfocused and fruitless. Rest, renewal, these are necessities, non-negotiables.

 

Yes, we can reject it, treat it as something to be avoided, as an imposition to be ignored, overcome, defeated even. Which is the path our world seems to have chosen, especially the Western world.  But look what this approach has brought us: anxiety, exhaustion and insatiable appetites.  And 24/7 work weeks…

 

Not respecting the importance and the truth of who and what we are, of our need for rest, we have made ourselves into creatures bent on constant consumption, seeking always more and more, another cup of coffee (black and bitter like my heart), another handful of popcorn, one more gluten free chocolate chip cookie to help me stay awake while I watch one more episode of Agatha Raisin before I change over to some 30 Rock re-runs; always more money, more pleasure, more food, more treasure, and always needing more and more energy to feed our endless activity, to run our bigger and better cars and homes and offices and technologies.  We hunger constantly for more, treating rest as something for the weak, the underachiever. And this hunger quite literally has us eating our children, not their flesh but their lives, their futures. We use up and pollute the water supplies, the farmland, even the air we breathe.  We fill up every inch of land with concrete and buildings, bigger houses to store all the stuff we have, so much that it can’t even fit it all in our rooms or on our shelves. We rent storage units so we can hold onto the stuff we can’t even remember we own.  All the while acquiring and acquiring more….

It seems to me that God isn’t saying to Israel: Be good, or I will slap your hand.  Instead, I think God is telling them (and us) that this is how the world works: all of creation needs rest. Needs a Sabbath. If we live by His statutes and laws, we find peace and harmony—because we are living in harmony with our very being, with the world. That is reality.

 

And, if we don’t live in the real world, then we will live in a fantasy where even the sound of a falling leaf will send us running in terror. And where we find ourselves so anxious and desperate and afraid, that we might do anything to escape from it, and from what it does to us.

 

Living a fantasy means having no real security, no firm foundation. Nothing you can depend upon. It is like building a house on sand. Every new breeze, every whim that passes, shakes your very foundation.  Every leaf that falls starts you running…

 

We were made vulnerable and insufficient. We need rest and we need each other.

Today, make time for rest and renewal. Take a nap. Play a game. Drink a cup of tea and tell someone your dreams.  Call up a friend or a family member and tell them you love them. Or ask them about their week, and really listen.  Rest in the sound of their voice, and the telling of their tale.

Rest, renew… and reconnect

And…Love without borders.

Carping Criticism and Exhaustion and Peter's advice for a healthier home

 

“Rid yourselves of all spite, deceit,

hypocrisy, envy and carping criticism.

Like new-born babies all your longing

should be for milk…”

1 Peter 2:1-2

 

 

It has been a little while since my last reflection.  It is strange how the world has continued moving while I find myself growing more and more still.  Not by choice, I’d say. Though I did throw my back out by reaching over to pick up a postcard (getting an MRI--tomorrow).  And it’s not that I’ve been sick. Mostly, I am just exhausted. I can’t seem to find the energy I once had. Can’t even find enough energy to focus my thoughts. When I get out my pen and begin to scribble a line or two on a page, a bit of mindless musing, I find that—without meaning to—I stop mid-sentence and by the time I notice, there is a blot of ink forming on the page. If I open a book to read, I fall asleep before I get past the first paragraph.

 

Most of the time, I find myself sitting blank eyed in front of the TV watching Hallmark movies or searching through the channels for something old and black and white; something I have seen so often I don’t have to think about. One thing I know for sure, if Franklin Pangborn is in it, I will probably like it.

 

But, why am I so exhausted? Is it work? Is it poor diet? Not enough sleep? Lack of exercise? Mid-winter blues? Covid fatigue? Mourning?  I’m not sure.  But, those voices inside of me keep whispering: Get back to work. Don’t be so lazy. You say you want to be a writer; why aren’t you writing? Or reading? Or washing the dishes? Have you seen the sink? By the way, the trash needs to go out. And don’t you have a class tomorrow? Shouldn’t you be planning a lesson? Have you noticed how tight your pants are getting? Might want to hold off on that bowl of popcorn and go for a walk. While you’re at it, you forgot to call your Dad. What kind of son are you? Did I mention your pants? You may need a new belt. And have you checked the garage toilet paper supply lately? Better add another 24 pack to the list!

 

It is in this context, that I happened to read this passage from the first letter of St. Peter, and in this context that the phrase, “carping criticism,” stung my soul.    

 

Because of my situation, my initial thought was of the criticism in my own head, so much of it self-directed.  How useless and destructive such criticism can be. Instead of inspiring myself to find joy in my life, and perhaps to get up and do something that I will find satisfying and fulfilling, I carp and criticize myself, nag myself about how lazy I am, or how sloppy I’m getting, or forgetful, etc. I attack myself with criticisms and leave myself wondering why I should even bother trying.  Negative self-talk, carping criticism, can become a self-destructive habit. And can prepare the ground for an often forgotten sin: sloth.  In the secular world, we think of sloth as laziness, an unwillingness to work.  It seems bad, but hardly worthy of being a “Deadly” sin.  But, in the spiritual world, sloth is seen as something far more dangerous.  It is akin to despair—a kind of hopelessness that hides behind questions like: What’s the point?  And if we beat ourselves up enough, we will simply sink into that despair and find ourselves giving up.

 

But another aspect of this teaching, that occurred to me was outwardly directed. I thought about the carping criticism that lurks within a husband and wife noting and tallying each other’s mistakes, each misstep, each failure of judgment; recording them in some emotional bank account, or on some psychological tape-loop of misdeeds, failures and marital infractions that plays continuously in the back of the mind. Reminding us constantly of past hurt feelings and disappointments, making sure that we never forget, that we cling to each and every one of them.  And making sure the other knows that we are watching them. We remember… each dish left in the sink, each greasy skillet left on the stove, each broken promise, each and every forgotten toothpaste tube that was left uncapped, or every time the toilet paper roll was left empty!! Check the garage!

 

Carping criticism is the weed of dissent that we sew ourselves, into our own hearts, into our homes, into our friendships and marriages.  St. Peter lists it alongside spite and envy, hypocrisy and deceit.  I think he does this because he knows that all these things are related.  I criticize someone else because (on some level) I envy them. I envy that they are enjoying themselves and I am not. I envy that they are at peace, whether napping or reading a book, scrolling through their emails, or watching Hallmark. And I am standing in judgement of them, not because of anything they have done—but because, like the hypocrite I often am, I want to be at peace doing “nothing.” I want to enjoy a moment of rest. 

 

The carping criticism that we hear in our own head, that whispers to us words of resentment and spite, it isn’t just bad self-talk. It is a seed being planted, whose fruit is discord and conflict.  Don’t let that seed take root.  If you need rest, take it.  God declared that we should rest, and He declared it good.  So, instead of fighting your exhaustion with a to-do list, close your eyes and take a nap.  If Hallmark movies give you some pleasure and renewal, then watch a Hallmark movie. Let yourself disappear into it completely and enjoy it.  And have a bowl of popcorn, too!  When you feel rested, you’ll be ready to handle that sink full of dishes.  But, don’t stand over them sighing and fuming about who dirtied which cup or which bowl; let yourself offer the work of washing as a prayer for your family, for a friend, for peace in your own heart.  And let each dish be dried with quiet care and a whispered, “Thank you.” Let that be the beginning of your new outlook. Gratitude for the chance to serve another, and a special gratitude if no one notices what you are doing.  As you put away the dishes, bless each one; think about the person who will use it next, and let that blessing be for them.  I hope this doesn’t sound to Pollyanna. All I am saying is this: if your feeling exhausted, it could be because –like me—you are. You are trying to do too much and trying to do it all perfectly.  And disappointing yourself that often can be quite exhausting. 

 

Dear Lord,

let me rest in You,

trusting that all I have is from You,

even my weakness and frailty

is part of Your plan.

Whether I am waking or sleeping

or washing dishes,

I give it to you.

I am Yours.