Restorative Rest
Many of us largely define ourselves by our work. When we first meet someone, and they ask what we do, we usually reply by identifying our occupation, but in an unfortunate way. I know that for me, most often I will say, “I am a Rabbi.” Notice the disconnect: the question is what I do, and I answer by saying who I am. I could say, “I serve as the Rabbi of Congregation Or Ami,” but I usually don’t. I don’t say that I help my kids with their homework, or that I play on the synagogue softball team, or that I give tz’dakah, which are all things I do. And I also don’t say that I am a father, a husband, a son, or a Red Sox fan, all of which are also true statements of who I am. Instead, my answer suggests that I am what I do for my career — and I suspect that most of us respond in the same way. (This recognition helps explain why people struggling with a job loss or retirement face questions not only about finances, but also often about their very identity.) It makes sense; more of my waking hours are spent “doing” Rabbi than any of the other answers I could give. But when what we “do” threatens to become who we “are,” something is out of balance.
Every seven days, however, we have an opportunity to restore the balance. On Shabbat, we are taught to switch the focus from what we do to who we are. “Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is Shabbat; you shall not do any work." (Exodus 20:9) Instead of devoting our energy to our job, on Shabbat we give our attention to our family and friends. Instead of trying to acquire more and more by spending our money which we worked to earn, on Shabbat we spend our time appreciating the gifts we already enjoy. Instead of remaining enslaved to business hours, a time card, an appointment calendar, on Shabbat we liberate ourselves to experience the natural rhythm of our lives and the natural world in which we live. On Shabbat we do not have to do; we are free simply to be. And then we are ready to begin the week anew, with a restored sense of who we are, beyond what we do.
In May, we read a Torah portion (B’har, from chapter 25 of Leviticus) that shows that the restorative power of Shabbat is not limited to people. The land too deserves a Shabbat. Every seven years, we are told not to work our fields—or better, not to make our fields work. We do not plow or plant, weed or harvest. The land gets a chance to rest, to lie fallow, to restore and recharge itself just as we do each week. It prevents the land from being used up, becoming unable to sustain life. Modern agriculture bears out the wisdom of this Torah teaching. The Torah calls this seventh year a Shabbaton, a sabbatical.
Most of us are no longer farmers, but the institution of the sabbatical endures. In some professions like academia, and in some businesses, employees earn a sabbatical in their seventh year of work. When these workers, like the land, are in danger of being “used up,” unable to sustain creative and productive results, they take time away from their normal jobs, to pursue professional development, or study something new, or move temporarily to a different place, or explore a different outlet for their energy. This extended Shabbat enables them to return to who they are, without having to focus exclusively on what they do. Like the land, they return from their sabbatical restored and recharged, ready to resume their regular careers but perhaps with a broader, deeper, or fresher perspective.
June 30 marks the conclusion of my seventh year at Or Ami. I am grateful to the Board of Trustees for recognizing the wisdom of the sabbatical institution and incorporating it into my contract, so that I can now take a three-month sabbatical. I will be taking half of the time this summer and the other half next summer, for some study, some family time, some travel, and some creative reflection. I anticipate that this period will enable me to refresh and restore my sense both of who I am and what I do. Consequently, I will not be at the synagogue during July and August. For two weeks in July, while I serve on faculty at Camp Harlam, I will still be available for emergencies. During the rest of July and August, Cantor Franzel will be available for all clergy calls: medical emergencies, deaths (God forbid), and other issues. As an invested Cantor, he is every bit the clergy that I am; he will skillfully and compassionately handle any situation for which you might otherwise call me. I look forward to seeing you in September.
