Why Do You Run?

"Rabbi Levi saw a man running in the street, and asked him, 'Why do you run?' He replied, 'I am running after my good fortune!' Rabbi Levi tells him, 'Silly man, your good fortune hs been trying to chase you, but you are running too fast.'" --Traditional Tale

After a summer filled with many Do-It-Yourself projects, the kids' swimming lessons, visits from wonderful friends, the daily tending of a veggie garden, and all the normal everyday cleaning and laundry that has to be done for a family of 4, my husband and I are ready for rest. We're ready for the rhythms and routines that come with the kids being back in school, the weather getting cooler (of course anything under 100 degrees would feel cool at this point), and a little added structure to our days. I don't know about you, but I'm one who enjoys deadlines, projects, and schedules that help give shape to the content of my days. I'm not particularly good at creating that for myself, so I appreciate the natural structure that the school-year offers. The lessons, homework, conferences, and meetings for me are like posts in time, to which I can attach the pickets of my endeavors.

This personal need for routines and rhythms drew me back to read a couple of my favorite books about rest: one by Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, and the other by ordained minister, therapist, and founder of Bread for the Journey (an organization serving families in need) Wayne Muller. Heschel's Book is entitled "The Sabbath". Muller's book is called "Sabbath: Restoring the Sacred Rhythm of Rest". Outside of clergy like myself, these kind of books tend to be overlooked (even among clergy, quite frankly). We Americans aren't particularly comfortable with rest and reflection. We seem to have internalized the notion that to be idle is to be lazy. We even use Sundays as catch-up time for yardwork and housework. With so many demands, we just rarely let ourselves off the hook, much less set aside time to commune with God and just revel in silence.

We often avoid such time altogether because we don't know where to start. We feel like we would have to neglect family and work to incorporate time for spiritual reflection and rest. We tend to see Sabbath rest as an archaic restrictive rule, rather than an opportunity for renewal. Rabbi Heschel describes it this way, "...the world becomes a place of rest. An hour arrives like a guide, and raises our minds above accustomed thoughts. People assemble to welcome the wonder of the seventh day, while the Sabbath sends out its presence over the field, into our homes, into our hearts. It is a moment of resurrection of the dormant spirit in our souls."

Muller takes Hechel's Sabbath wisdom to heart, and offers small, manageable, life-giving spiritual practices that we can incorporate into the rhythms of our fast-paced life. Muller suggests we
"choose a period of time or an activity--such as a walk or hike,
alone or with someone you love--when you will refrain from speech.
Notice what arises in silence, the impluse to speak, the need to judge
or respond to what you see, hear, feel. Notice any discomfort that
arises when you are not free to speak. During a 10-day silent meditation
retreat, I was convinced that other retreatants--also silent--were all
angry, or somehow mad at me. I could not rely on my wit, charm, or
intellect to engage them. For the first few days I resented the silence.
Now, after years of practice, I seek out silences, I delight in them.
They seem sweet, safe, a Sabbath, a genuine sanctuary in time"
(Muller, p56).

We live in a culture that values diversion, busyness, and productivity over wholeness. Everywhere we turn we find the entreat to do more, be more, make more, and acquire more. It's no wonder that at the end of the day we feel exhausted and depleated, reaching desperately for that third cup of coffee or the energy drink of choice. Regardless of what particular faith tradition we belong to, if we want to be whole we must find a way to stop running, to face the quiet, and to give in to stillness. At first it will feel uncomfortable, even unnatural and unsettling. After some practice, though, it will begin to feel like the pool of fresh, cool water beneath a beautiful waterfall. Have you ever hiked for hours to get to a waterfall? You're hot, sweaty, tired, your muscles ache, your feet may be blistered. But when you reach the waterfall, lay down your pack, take off your shoes to immerse them in the cool water, it is easy to rest. It's a relief. It's the most natural joy, just sitting on a rock, breathing deeply of the mountain air, and taking in the beauty. This is Sabbath rest. Each of us will hike different hikes, struggle with different pains along the way, start our journey up the mountain from different places. At the end of the journey, though, we all need to be whole. We each need to bathe in the rest that is freely offered to us. Find the spiritual practice that works for you. Find a place of rest. Set it apart. Stop running. Your soul is waiting.