Ain't it a Shame to Work on Sunday...

Walter Brueggemann is among the preeminent non-Jewish American scholars of the Hebrew Scriptures. For many years I regularly have referred to his work in exegeting the Scriptures for preaching and for leading Bible studies. Over the past several weeks I have read and re-read, pondered and meditated on the his more devotionally focused book, A Gospel of Hope. That book, which is a collection of snippets and vignettes from his other writings, led me to yet another of his writings, Sabbath as Resistance, which I have just begun.

In the first few pages—scarcely 100 words into the book—the concept of sabbath took on new meaning and intensity for me. Brueggemann had made numerous references to sabbath in A Gospel of Hope; comments in which sabbath took on, in my mind, a vaguely healing and restoring quality. I began to hold it in juxtaposition to the stress-filled, manic pace of the competitive scramble for … whatever it is that we’re scrambling for in life. That scramble is laden with road rage commutes, rigid ideological self-assertion, and an illusion of perfection.

And then comes sabbath.

In my earliest memories my dad was a tenant farmer with dreams of owning his own farm. He worked hard, long hours; but, come Sunday, there would be no work. I remember riding into town for church, and passing a farmer working in his field. My mom, without fail, would sing a little jingle, “Ain’t it a shame to work on Sunday, ain’t it a shame?”

Sunday in my early memories was, aside from going to church, a day filled with rules about what we couldn’t do: we couldn’t play cards or go to a picture show, and we couldn’t go to the store because all the stores were closed on Sunday.

A similar kind of restrictive observation of sabbath can be found in the Jewish commentaries. The third commandment in the Decalogue reads:

“Remember the sabbath day, and keep it holy. ⁹Six days you shall labor and do all your work. ¹⁰But the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work—you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns. ¹¹For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but rested the seventh day; therefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day and consecrated it.” (Exodus 20:8-11 NRSV)

Of all those words, what grabbed the attention of the ancient scribes was, “work: don’t.” So, since it’s a commandment from God we’d better take it seriously. Don’t work. Avoid work. So, what is it we’re supposed to avoid? And thus began a process—a virtually unending process—of defining work. I don’t recall how many volumes of the Talmud were devoted to the definition of work.

I do recall one specific definition of work: carrying more than a cup of honey more than six steps. That was defined as work, and it was prohibited. So, the Jewish homemaker would make sure honey was within six steps of the table before Sabbath began.

I also recall reading about a man who was stoned to death for violating the Sabbath. His crime: dragging a chair across the dirt floor of his home. It was considered plowing.

Of course, the Sabbath had to be defined. At first it was from sundown on Friday until sundown on Saturday. When watches were invented, sabbath was defined as beginning at 6:00 PM on Friday and ending at 6:00 PM on Saturday.

I remember Sandy Koufax, ace pitcher for the Brooklyn Dodgers during the 50s and 60s. He was Jewish, and one year refused to pitch the opening game of the World Series because it fell on Yom Kippur, the Jewish New Year. Not exactly sabbath; but a similar application. Avoidance of work. Restriction.

And so the rigid observance of sabbath restriction passed from generation to generation: “Ain’t it a shame to work on Sunday, ain’t it a shame.” And in the process, the intention of sabbath has totally been missed. The word, sabbath, means to stop or to cease, and in the third commandment it is tied directly to rest.

Rest. A time for restoring energy and strength. A time for refreshing and healing and refocusing. A time for renewal of one’s whole being (soul): body, mind, relationships, and spirituality.

The rigid observance of a command, when observance means to avoid what is prohibited, becomes counterproductive and produces more stress, rather than healing.

Think of a small child resisting a nap or bedtime. The child doesn’t realize that rest is a human necessity—if not for herself, then for her exhausted parents. It’s not a luxury. It’s not an entitlement. It’s built into the human DNA, and to ignore it or deny it is to do harm to the very soul of humanity.

What if we took a break—declared a moratorium—from the whole legalistic, pharisaical rigidity that becomes common in so many faith expressions? What if we focused instead on the grace that undergirds the whole idea of sabbath?  

Rest. What if it’s not a prescription, but a description? What if it describes the will of God for God’s people: that they should have regular times of rest and restoration and refreshing? What if it’s more invitation than commandment? On that basis, might we give ourselves permission to take a regular sabbath?

And what if we took a sabbath from our petty social media pontifications and personal insults and intolerance? Just give it a rest.

That’s the way it looks through the Flawed Glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk,

Jim