The Spirituality of the Sabbath

I remem­ber a con­ver­sa­tion I had with a Jesuit priest sev­eral years ago where we talked about the “Spir­i­tu­al­ity of the Sab­bath” and how this has been steadily lost in our world of activ­ity and busy-ness.

In a nut­shell, the spir­i­tu­al­ity of the Sab­bath takes it root from the Cre­ation Story in Gen­e­sis where God was sup­posed to have rested on the Sev­enth Day after cre­at­ing the world.

The spir­i­tu­al­ity of the Sab­bath is really a spir­i­tu­al­ity of con­tem­pla­tion– a long, lov­ing look at what is really real; of what counts and is impor­tant in the end. The priest men­tioned how in the end, you can­not bring your projects or your accom­plish­ments with you to heaven.

In the end, the only thing you can bring, are mem­o­ries: the fact that you have been kind, that you were allowed into people’s liv­ing rooms and din­ing areas, the smile of a child given a box of choco­lates, the thank you of an old woman you helped.

It is a spir­i­tu­al­ity of “wast­ing” time doing “noth­ing”. Which prob­a­bly means doing the really essen­tial things: talk­ing to a friend, bond­ing with some­one, play­ing with a child, being present to the sick.

It has some­thing to do with get­ting per­spec­tive. A per­spec­tive that is not myopic and focuses too much on the here and now, but takes the future into con­sid­er­a­tion. It is hope­ful wait­ing. It is allow­ing your­self the lux­ury of let­ting things take its due course.

Com­pe­tence is the norm of our world today. If you do not do some­thing, if you can­not com­pete, then you have no use. And you’re not just asked to do some­thing, you’re asked to do it well. There is no prob­lem with that per se. Excel­lence and accom­plish­ment is laud­able. But if it becomes the be-all and end-all of our lives— to do some­thing and make sure to do it well— then it becomes a poten­tial source of problems.

In our quest for rel­e­vance and com­pe­tency, we can step on other peo­ple, we can for­get our val­ues, we can lose our­selves and what really mat­ters. The ques­tion is not what mat­ters, because in a way, all these mat­ter, but what mat­ters ulti­mately, when all is said and done. Excel­lence mat­ters, yes, but I do not think it mat­ters in the end.

I think we lose some­thing when we refuse to go deeper than the appar­ent; when we refuse to look for a deeper mean­ing to things in our quest for the high­est pay or the great­est perks of the job. A friend of mine who was caught in the mid­dle of this dog-eat-dog world and got burnt out said that it was hell. In fact, Burn-out does give us the image of hell: a burn­ing place, a place of spir­i­tual death. Peo­ple who get burnt out are prob­a­bly peo­ple who expe­ri­ence spir­i­tual death: a lack of per­spec­tive, the fail­ure to see the longer view of things.

Many times, I fall into the trap of the world. I get busy. I “kill” myself. I lose sleep. I stay up late. To push and fight and scream, “I am rel­e­vant!” I take con­trol. I work hard so I feel rel­e­vant, and needed, and impor­tant and irre­place­able. I cringe at the thought of a free week-end with noth­ing to do. I get sick when I go on long stretches of holidays.

Indeed, to be rel­e­vant and to accom­plish some­thing is one great temp­ta­tion. In fact, it is Jesus’ first temp­ta­tion– to accom­plish, to be rel­e­vant, to change stones into bread.

And who doesn’t want to– I cer­tainly want to become an impor­tant per­son, to help Med School stu­dents who need some per­spec­tive in their lives, to help the com­pa­nies I’m con­sult­ing for, to give the best talk peo­ple will remem­ber for the rest of their lives. Yes, I cer­tainly want to turn stones into bread! Who doesn’t? Aren’t we called to turn stones into bread? To help peo­ple, feed the hun­gry, heal the sick, make a dif­fer­ence in people’s lives?

Jesus was asked to turn stones into bread. But he clung to His Father, “We do not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God…”

I think that was a per­spec­tive that can only come from some­one who went through 40 days and nights of com­ing away to a deserted place and rest­ing a little.

I do find per­spec­tive in the unlike­li­est of places and the most improb­a­ble of times. Dur­ing times of sick­ness where I get to stay in my room and not feel guilty. From a let­ter of a friend telling me about his work with col­lege stu­dents in Cagayan de Oro and how it seems like he is not “accom­plish­ing” any­thing. From a friendly reminder of a for­mer class­mate— who I haven’t seen in a long while— to take it easy.

Dur­ing those times of reminder, I get to sur­ren­der and face the silence and stay with myself. And I see how I have become more and more maya­bang, or too work-oriented, or stressed out. I see how I have become too engrossed with myself. Or too engrossed with the pur­suit for com­pe­tence and rel­e­vance. I see how I have been doing things for the wrong rea­sons and wrong motivations.

And then I remem­ber once again—with the power that brings me back to my for­mer convictions—that man does not live by bread alone but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.