| The Preacher’s Corner By Rev. Dr. Milton Winter ‘This is the day the Lord has made’ This
morning (Monday) I made an early trip to Wal-Mart. The nice gentleman,
who gathers up the carts in the parking lot, greeted me with the words,
“Isn’t this a beautiful Lord’s Day?” His words reminded me that even
though we Christians, following the thought of John in the Book of
Revelation, often speak of Sunday as “The Lord’s Day,” every day is
God’s, and we should rejoice in it. Those of you
my age or older are on the tail end of the era when keeping the Sabbath
was an exercise in enforced inactivity. In Cleveland where I grew up,
it was, through my high school years, against the law to play golf or
tennis before noon on Sunday. Old records of the
governing bodies of the Presbyterian Church in the 1800s regularly
contain resolutions against the operation of railroad trains on
Sunday—along with votes of thanks to the officials of the railroad
lines for allowing the members of the presbytery or synod to ride at
half-fare to the aforementioned governing body meetings and expressing
the hope that this courtesy would be continued in the future. Mary
Virginia Grigsby, daughter of a pastor of this congregation in the late
1890s, gives a picture of what young people did on Sabbath days in
Holly Springs in that era long ago: “Breakfast of course, then Sunday
school followed by the church service, and a large Sunday dinner
prepared by our cook and her helpers. This was followed by brief naps,
then the reading of The Herald and Presbyter and The Christian
Observer. How well I remember them! Suitable reading for both young and
old. Then the study and recitation of the Catechisms, the Child’s
Catechism for the very young and the Shorter (misnomer, certainly)
Catechism for the more mature. These must be memorized and repeated
verbatim. . .” Such activities were often
remembered as restrictive, even oppressive. The fact that stores and
other places of business remained closed by the requirements of law
added to the idea. As a result, people in our time still have some
remaining idea, however much a vestige of the almost-forgotten past,
that keeping the Sabbath is a negative thing—a part of our religious
observance to be swept under the rug—not recalled—and certainly not
commended for a positive spirituality in the present era. But
I recently saw a book entitled The Sabbath as Green. I did not read the
book, but I gather the idea is that giving things a rest is good for
the environment! And that leads me to
the idea that this ancient observance was actually designed for our
good, and that we should not, perhaps, blame God, for the strictures
that human beings placed on what should have been a glad and happy day.
After all, whoever said it would have been a good idea for humans to
have to work seven days a week with no time off for rest? That
the law of Moses codified a social structure that gave men and women
one day in seven for rest must have been radical in the ancient world.
The theology upon which it was based must have seemed equally radical
as well. It was that the earth’s ability to produce was so abundant,
that six days of work would yield seven days of sustenance. That was
truly a wonderful thing for people who lived in a subsistence culture.
One was promised by God that you didn’t have to work yourselves to the
bone to survive. It let ancient peoples wrest a certain serenity and
poise from the vicissitudes of their agricultural lives. In
the chapter we read from Leviticus, we encounter a very interesting
social arrangement buried deep in the ancient Hebrew law. The idea was
that every seven years the land was to be given a rest. Was this idea
of a Sabbath for the land an ancient concept of our modern realization
that it is good for a field to lie fallow every few years to replenish
the essential nutrients in the soil? Had crop rotation been used in
this country in bygone eras, we would not have had the erosion and worn
out soil that caused so many old farms to go bad. But
the ancient Hebrew idea of the Sabbath went a step further, in that
after a series of seven such cycles of six years’ farming and one
year’s rest, there was (in what would have been the fiftieth year), a
year of Jubilee, in which debts were to be forgiven, and slaves were to
be freed. Land that had been lost to debt was to be restored to its
original owners, and there was a general wiping clean of the slate. The
Sabbath meant not only rest, but restoration for those who had come up
short, and this was to be done once in every generation. Those
of us who grew up in the shadow of the old Puritan Sabbath may not have
such liberating ideas in our conception of Sunday. Too often for me as
a child, Sunday was the day I had to go to church, whether I wanted to
or not, long naps for the adults during which I had to be absolutely
quiet; it was also the day my best friend, the Baptist minister’s son,
could not go to the swimming pool, so I did not go either; and during
the school year, Sunday was the day before Monday, which meant that
homework had to be done on Sunday evening. People often say TGIF, but I
seldom heard anybody say TGIS. Maybe we need to reconsider. I
think it is a remarkable idea that God did not design human beings or
their environment so that we had to labor without respite. Of course,
the world could have worked that way. For some, in great poverty,
because of poverty or inhuman conditions, work with no end in sight may
be a reality. But the idea that people could have one day in seven for
rest was a possibility and a reality for those in the Judeo-Christian
tradition over a great many centuries. In our
United States, where for various social reasons, our people work more
hours in the week than in any other industrialized society, it raises
the question—even in a secular sense—why we have abandoned the concept
of a Sabbath’s rest. Karl Barth used to say that
the Sabbath was given to remind human beings that there were limits
placed upon us. We could not simply work ourselves into the ground, as
if pride and greed, or a misplaced need to “get ahead” could rule our
desires. No, said Barth, humans must, as the Psalmist said, “Be still
and know that I am God.” But what we forget (and there is great irony
here), that in keeping Sabbath, we are given rest, refreshment,
restitution, renewal, and respite. And as everybody knows, when one is
tired, a change of pace does a body a great deal of good. If
sitting quietly and doing nothing is not your cup of tea, perhaps you
need to think of the Sabbath not so much as the Victorian cessation of
activity, but in the Hebrew sense of a change of activity. And if this variety “is the spice of life,” then could it not also be good for the world, as well as for earth’s inhabitants. The
ancient Sabbath allowed the land to lie fallow. Perhaps in our time, it
would replenish the earth if, for example, we would give the oysters a
rest from time to time in the sea, or let the forests grow again,
instead of clear-cutting all the land, or planting clover instead of
cotton and making it grow with powerful chemicals year after year.
Indeed, to recognize that the land has limits is simply to recognize as
God did in Eden that humans have limits, and that everyone and
everything does better when it has a Sabbath rest. What
is given up does not compare to what is gained. By keeping Sabbath we
are reminded of the source of all that is. We are not the source of our
energy and productivity any more than is the soil from which we reap.
Our wealth is the product of our own effort or hand. All of it is the
gift of God, and it is healthy for humans to pause, take stock of the
giver, and go forth once more with a renewed sense of the solidarity
that we have with God and all that God has made. Adam
and Eve were the first environmentalists. They, along with the entire
creation God had made rested with Him on the Sabbath day. And if, as
Jesus says, not a sparrow falls without our heavenly Father’s notice,
then when we care for the land and creatures God has made, we are
acting in solidarity with the God who creates and cares. The
act of replenishing and refreshing is at the root of what the Biblical
Sabbath means. The Sabbath means that once more God is with us, walking
as God did of old with Adam and Eve in the garden in the cool of the
day. In the kingdom that Jesus brings, care for our neighbors and for
all that God cares for is part of our joy and our concern. In this
kingdom, as Brian McLaren says, “Sparrows matter.” People matters more,
but the saying about the sparrows simply illustrates that no part of
creation is outside the realm of God’s interest and care. God’s realm
is a place where everything that is good matters, and God’s love
implies a rest and a respite for all. It is a world where the poor find
release from their burdens and the earth is allowed to renew itself to
blossom forth once again. When we keep Sabbath,
we find space to think clearly again, to go forth with new energy and
to do the sorts of things God does, creating, redeeming, and renewing
after His image and example. These days, people
often take leave of each other by saying, “Have a nice day.” But if you
took the old Hebrew mindset, you could say with the psalmist, “This is
the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in
it!”
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