Rest

Luke 10: 38-42

Roger Lynn

September 3, 2017

Labor Day Week-end

(click here for the audio for this sermon)

Tomorrow is Labor Day, a holiday set aside to honor those who work for a living. We make this tribute by taking a break from our labors. And in so doing we join a very old tradition. In the opening chapters of Genesis we are told that at the end of the process of creating the world God took a day off to rest. This practice is enshrined in the religious tradition of Sabbath. There is an awareness, at a very deep and basic level, that human beings cannot long survive on a steady diet of nothing but work. We need rest. We need play. We need recreation. There is a reason why the phrase “working ourselves to death” is a part of our cultural lexicon.

Unfortunately, we often seem to forget this important truth. We have inherited a “work ethic” in our culture which frequently leaves us feeling guilty about any time not spent in the pursuit of something “productive.” I once knew a gifted, creative woman who felt guilty whenever she spent time with her art. All too often we have taken to heart the message that if it isn’t making money then it is of no value. And so we spend our lives in frantic pursuit of fulfillment, never quite recognizing that it remains elusive as long as the search is defined by our franticness. We are like Martha – so busy with our “important” work that we fail to notice we have Jesus sitting in our living room.

Wayne Muller, in his book “Sabbath: Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight in Our Busy Lives” (published by Bantam in 2000) said exactly what I was hoping to say about this topic, so I’m going to let him say it for me. He describes the situation this way:

In the relentless busyness of modern life, we have lost the rhythm between work and rest. All life requires a rhythm of rest. There is a rhythm in our waking activity and the body’s need for sleep. There is a rhythm in the way day dissolves into night, and night into morning. There is a rhythm as the active growth of spring and summer is quieted by the necessary dormancy of fall and winter. There is a tidal rhythm, a deep, eternal conversation between the land and the great sea. In our bodies, the heart perceptibly rests after each life-giving beat; the lungs rest between the exhale and the inhale.

We have lost this essential rhythm. Our culture invariably supposes that action and accomplishment are better than rest, that doing something – anything – is better than doing nothing. Because of our desire to succeed, to meet these ever-growing expectations, we do not rest. Because we do not rest, we lose our way. We miss the compass points that would show us where to go, we bypass the nourishment that would give us succor. We miss the quiet that would give us wisdom. We miss the joy and love born of effortless delight. Poisoned by this hypnotic belief that good things come only through unceasing determination and tireless effort, we can never truly rest. And for want of rest, our lives are in danger.

In our drive for success we are seduced by the promise of more: more money, more recognition, more satisfaction, more love, more information, more influence, more possessions, more security. Even when our intentions are noble and our efforts sincere – even when we dedicate our lives to the service of others – the corrosive pressure of frantic overactivity can nonetheless cause suffering in ourselves and others.

A “successful” life has become a violent enterprise. We make war on our own bodies, pushing them beyond their limits; war on our children, because we cannot find enough time to be with them when they are hurt and afraid, and need our company; war on our spirit, because we are too preoccupied to listen to the quiet voices that seek to nourish and refresh us; war on our communities, because we are fearfully protecting what we have, and do not feel safe enough to be kind and generous; war on the earth, because we cannot take the time to place our feet on the ground and allow it to feed us, to taste its blessings and give thanks.

Muller then goes on to describe the tragic consequence of this frantic approach to life. He writes:

Our lack of rest and reflection is not just a personal affliction. It colors the way we build and sustain community, it dictates the way we respond to suffering, and it shapes the ways in which we seek peace and healing in the world. I have worked for twenty-five years in the fields of community development, public health, mental health, and criminal justice. With a few notable exceptions, the way problems are solved is frantically, desperately, reactively, and badly. Despite their well-meaning and generous souls, community and corporate leaders are infected with a fearful desperation that is corrosive to genuine helpfulness, justice, or healing. As Brother David Steindl-Rast reminds us, the Chinese pictograph for “busy” is composed of two characters: heart and killing.

When we forget to rest our lives fall out of balance and spin out of control. And the resulting damage affects not only us, but those around us, and indeed the whole planet.  “For everything there is a season.” We do not honor God by working ourselves to death. Jesus said, “Come unto me all you who are weary and heavy ladened, and I will give you rest.” And so, on this Labor Day week-end, I would invite you to engage is a deep and significant spiritual practice – take a nap – play with your children or your grandchildren – go for a walk – do absolutely nothing at all – rest in the eternal and abiding arms of God.