Bring Back Shabbat

So far I have used this blog primarily to talk about political stuff, eschewing the religious. But I'm a rabbi, after all, so it was only a matter of time before I wrote something about Judaism and not only Jewishness.

Over this past Shabbat there was a moment when my wife and kids were having a relaxed lunch together, and I turned to Natalie and said, "You know, this (family time, that is) wouldn't really be possible without the way we observe Shabbat." By which I meant that, without our commitment--yes, religious commitment--to not turning on the TV or answering the phone or using the computer or going out places, our regular instincts to do those things would most certainly overtake us. In the world in which we live, in which our many relationships with other people and things drive so many of our lives, the holy space made possible by Shabbat really is, as Abraham Joshua Heschel called it, a palace in time.

A few years ago, on this weekend, the New York Times ran a piece by Judith Shulevitz called "Bring Back Shabbat." The whole text is available here (or at the NYT website, for a fee). It's a wonderful essay, and the following paragraphs are especially worth reading:

"The Israelite Sabbath institutionalized an astonishing, hitherto undreamed-of notion: that every single creature has the right to rest, not just the rich and the privileged. Covered under the Fourth Commandment are women, slaves, strangers and, improbably, animals. The verse in Deuteronomy that elaborates on this aspect of the Sabbath repeats, twice, that slaves were not to work, as if to drive home what must have been very hard to understand in the ancient world. The Jews were meant to perceive the Sabbath not only as a way to honor God but also as the central vehicle of their liberation theology, a weekly reminder of their escape from their servitude in Egypt.

"In other words, we have the Sabbath to thank for labor legislation and for our belief that it is wrong for employers to drive their employees until they drop from exhaustion. So what do we do, today, with this remarkable heritage, which in the last century expanded to a generous two days, rather than just one? Much more than our ancestors could ever have imagined, and much, much less. We relax on the run and, in rare bursts of free time, we recreate. We choose from a dizzying array of leisure options and pursue them with an exemplary degree of professionalism and perfectionism. We rush our children from activity to activity, their days a blur of tight connections.

"And yet there are important ways in which even our impressive recreational creativity fails to reproduce the benefits of the Sabbath. Few elective activities will ever rise to a status higher than work in our minds, and therefore cannot be relied upon to counterbalance our neurotic drive to achieve. Most of us will jettison plans to go skiing if a deadline looms near. We will assign a high priority to a non-work-related hobby only if we have committed to it in some public manner, as we do when we join a volleyball team or a choir. (Oddly, one of the few times a parent can truly relax is when lingering on the sidelines of a child's baseball or soccer game; there is nothing like being forced to be somewhere and do very little for an hour and a half to declench the muscles of the mind.)"

Shulevitz goes on, and it's worth reading the whole piece. But my point is simply that, in whatever way you observe Shabbat, observing Shabbat religiously is important, perhaps more important than ever.