Sabbath for Ourselves and the Planet

I just finished reading an article by Michael Pollan called "Why Bother?", recently published in the New York Times Magazine. Pollan is the author of the bestsellers "The Omnivore's Dilemma" and “In Defense of Food: An Eater’s Manifesto," and has become a contemporary environmental and food guru of sorts. In this article, he talks about how growing our own food, even a small percentage of it, is one powerful step we can take toward reducing our carbon footprint. And Pollan, along with many environmentalists, have been raising our awareness about the importance of buying local foods.

In the article, Pollan suggests a few things that we can do to respond to climate change. In addition to growing our own food, he stresses the importance of observing the Sabbath. "For one day a week, abstain completely from economic activity: no shopping, no driving, no electronics," he writes.

Now, I have always thought that taking a weekly Sabbath is a good thing for the soul. It's a time to replenish ourselves, to reconnect with Spirit without being pulled in all different directions by worldly distractions. I have been trying to work regular Sabbath/retreat time into my life (and admittedly have found frequent excuses to blow it off). But, I never viewed Sabbath as a response to climate change. I suppose it's been an afterthought, a side benefit--"oh yeah, I didn't drive or use the computer today, so I guess I saved some fossil fuel"--but I've never really seen it as a committment toward living more sustainably. Certainly it fosters spiritual sustainability, as the relentless speed of our lives is clearly unsustainable on a personal, emotional, and spiritual level. Slowing down and turning off the technology also helps build community. Instead of staring at the screen and shooting off emails, we enjoy face-to-face time with our neighbors and family.

Leonard Felder, in his book The Ten Challenges, offers us an alternative and refreshing way of viewing Sabbath. He says:

Imagine for a moment that someone who cares about you has sent you a gift certificate for a day that is to be devoted entirely to the needs of your soul. On that day you don't have to work. You can take a walk and have a relaxing conver­sation with friends or loved ones about the things that really matter. You can meditate, pray, and read the books that speak to your soul. You can nap and let your mind take a rest, or dance and sing to let your spirit soar. For one day, you can stop trying to prove yourself out in the world. You can look at your life as a blessing and feel at peace with where you are right now. Instead of feeling fragmented and pressured, you can spend the day in a generous, positive, and contemplative mood.

Well, Felder tells us that this gift certificate has been given to all of us, with the Fourth Commandment, which says: Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. Six days shall you labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God.

Now, instead of viewing this as a commandment, as a "Thou Shalt" or a "Thou Shalt Not," we can reclaim the notion of Sabbath to be an invitation to heal, replenish, and renew ourselves. Instead of the word "commandment," Felder suggests using the word "challenge." Thus, he reframes the Fourth Commandment as a challenge to "unhook from our everyday pressures and connect with something profoundly joyful.”

I recommend reading Wayne Muller's book Sabbath: Restoring the Sacred Rhythm of Rest as a great inspiration for making room in our lives for Sabbath. Muller says that taking Sabbath time is like thinning our garden. When the sprouts come up all crowded together, we need to thin them out in order to give them room to grow and flourish. This is obvious in our gardens, but why are we so resistent to thinning out our lives and making some space for growth, space for life, space for Spirit?

I envision a healthier culture in which we can collectively take time for Sabbath, a time of replenishment not stifled by religious legalism and dogma, but rather one of spaciousness and joy. We can allow for individual creativity and interpretation in its observance. It doesn't even need to be on the same day, or even on a weekend (I often take my Sabbath on Mondays, as many ministers do). Taking Sabbath time is something we can do to heal and restore ourselves, and, as I now realize, benefits the planet as well.

There were times when I could not afford to sacrifice the bloom of the present moment to any work, whether of the head or hands... Sometimes, in a summer morning, having taken my accustomed bath, I sat in my sunny doorway from sunrise till noon, rapt in a revery, amidst the pines and hickories and sumachs, in undisturbed solitude and stillness, while the birds sing around or flitted noiseless through the house, until by the sun falling in at my west window, or the noise of some traveller's wagon on the distant highway, I was reminded of the lapse of time. I grew in those seasons like corn in the night, and they were far better than any work of the hands would have been. They were not time subtracted from my life, but so much over and above my usual allowance.

~Henry David Thoreau