Two Spaces
January 07, 2008
Sabbath time is a revolutionary challenge to the
violence of overwork, because it honors the necessary
wisdom of dormancy . . . During Sabbath, when we
take our hand from the plow and let the earth care for
things, while we drink, if just briefly, from the fountain
of rest and delight.
Wayne Muller
Every day after school, the son of a well-known Rabbi
would enter his house, place his backpack on the
dining room table, leave the house through the back
door and head into the woods behind the
house.
At first, the Rabbi gave little thought to his son's ritual. Until it continued, for days, and then for weeks. Every day, out into the woods for almost a half hour. The Rabbi grew concerned.
"My son," he asked one day. "I notice that every day you leave our home to spend time in the woods. What is it you are doing there?"
"Oh papa," the son replied. "There is no need to worry. I go into the woods to pray. It is in the woods that I can talk to God."
"Oh," the Rabbi said, clearly relieved. "But you should know, as the son of a Rabbi, that God is the same everywhere."
"Yes, papa. I know that God is the same everywhere. But, I am not."
This little boy knew, instinctively, that there are two spaces. Both of them important.
In the one space, we generate productivity, accomplishment, action, achievement and busyness.
In the other, we find quiet, reflection, prayer, contemplation, renewal, meditation and, if we are lucky, unrepentant napping.
This second space is Sabbath space. Sabbath space is seldom encouraged in our "we-want-it-now," "are-you-keeping-busy," "what- have-you-done-for-me-lately," "are-you- somebody," "super-size-that-please" world.
I believe that deep down, all of us know the importance of Sabbath space. I also believe that all of us have such a space. We just didn't know what to call it. The consequence? All too often we disregard (pay little attention to) it.
Your Sabbath space doesn't have to be the woods. It can be in your garden, your car (while commuting), on a porch swing, walking by the lake, lounging in an Adirondack on your back deck, or in your favorite chair at Starbucks.
Wherever it may be, today I am grateful for the wisdom of a Rabbi's young son.
At first, the Rabbi gave little thought to his son's ritual. Until it continued, for days, and then for weeks. Every day, out into the woods for almost a half hour. The Rabbi grew concerned.
"My son," he asked one day. "I notice that every day you leave our home to spend time in the woods. What is it you are doing there?"
"Oh papa," the son replied. "There is no need to worry. I go into the woods to pray. It is in the woods that I can talk to God."
"Oh," the Rabbi said, clearly relieved. "But you should know, as the son of a Rabbi, that God is the same everywhere."
"Yes, papa. I know that God is the same everywhere. But, I am not."
This little boy knew, instinctively, that there are two spaces. Both of them important.
In the one space, we generate productivity, accomplishment, action, achievement and busyness.
In the other, we find quiet, reflection, prayer, contemplation, renewal, meditation and, if we are lucky, unrepentant napping.
This second space is Sabbath space. Sabbath space is seldom encouraged in our "we-want-it-now," "are-you-keeping-busy," "what- have-you-done-for-me-lately," "are-you- somebody," "super-size-that-please" world.
I believe that deep down, all of us know the importance of Sabbath space. I also believe that all of us have such a space. We just didn't know what to call it. The consequence? All too often we disregard (pay little attention to) it.
Your Sabbath space doesn't have to be the woods. It can be in your garden, your car (while commuting), on a porch swing, walking by the lake, lounging in an Adirondack on your back deck, or in your favorite chair at Starbucks.
Wherever it may be, today I am grateful for the wisdom of a Rabbi's young son.
Poems / Prayers
Poems and Prayers
Sabbath Poems
I dream of a quiet man
who explains nothing and defends
nothing, but only knows
where the rarest wildflowers
are blooming, and who goes,
and finds that he is smiling
not by his own will.
Wendall Berry
Dear Jesus,
Help me to spread your fragrance everywhere I go.
Flood my soul with your spirit and life.
Penetrate and possess my whole being
so utterly that my life may only be a radiance of yours.
John Henry Newman (1801-1890)
Peace,
Terry Hershey
