Healing in the Sabbath
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Condition: Critical Exploring the causes of poor clergy health |
But what are the solutions? While many denominations have made clergy health a top priority, what steps can pastors take to improve their health?
I don’t have an exercise regime or a diet for pastors to follow. I’m not good at either of those, and the situation is too big to be fixed by such a simple plan. But here are some steps that I believe can help.
First of all, clergy need to rest. We must find a way to re-introduce the Sabbath into our lives. Sabbath has become one of the “groovy” words. (“Spirituality” is another). Today I hear “Sabbath” and “Sabbath time” used in strange and comical ways. I was at a conference recently where a couple of hours were unaccounted for. The speaker at the workshop that preceded these two precious hours ended her session with some friendly advice: “Take this time to read, go shopping, take a nap, enjoy some Sabbath.” The second this was out of her mouth I thought, “This is why we Christians cannot understand Sabbath.”
In his book, The Sabbath, Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote the following:
For the Sabbath is the counterpoint of living; the melody sustained throughout all agitations and vicissitudes which menace our conscience; our awareness of God’s presence in the world. What we are depends on what the Sabbath is to us. The law of the Sabbath day is in the life of the spirit what the law of gravitation is in nature. Nothing is as hard to suppress as the will to be a slave to one’s own pettiness. Gallantly, ceaselessly, quietly, man must fight for inner liberty. Inner liberty depends upon being exempt from domination of things as well as from domination of people. There are many who have acquired a high degree of political and social liberty, but only very few are not enslaved to things. This is our constant problem—how to live with people and remain free, how to live with things and remain independent.1
In many ways, pastors today are busier than ever before. The growing number of small congregations—with their inevitably smaller budgets—means that few or no staff are available for administrative support. At the same time, fewer members are available to volunteer for help in congregations. As a result, pastors work constantly. Days off become days spent writing sermons because every other day is filled.
Sabbath keeping is hard work. Sabbath keeping is not getting a massage, not going to a day spa, not working out. Sabbath keeping is Sabbath keeping. (Now, the Jews and the Seventh Day Adventists would say that what I’m about to say is ludicrous because I’m advocating Sabbath on any day, perhaps not the designated Sabbath, but I’m willing to go out on the limb. )
Sabbath keeping is setting a day aside from commerce, from work, from worry and strife. Sabbath day is the day we recognize the glory and wonder of God.
An old story says that on the Sabbath day, spirits looked to the earth and saw such a wonderful place that they came to join in on the Sabbath. As the sun set and the work-a-day world returned, the spirits escaped only to return with the next Sabbath.
Rabbi Shimeon ben Laqish says, “Something happens to men on the Sabbath day. On the eve of the Sabbath the Lord gives man neshamah yeterah, and at the conclusion of the Sabbath He takes it away from him. Neshamah yeterah means additional spirit or additional soul. This taking away leaves people longing for the Sabbath.” 2
This understanding of the Sabbath was important for me. I once thought if I were in sync with God, if I were a good and balanced person, I would feel the serenity of the Sabbath at all times. This understanding of Sabbath says that the additional spirit or soul of the Sabbath is taken away for the particular purpose of making us desire union with God.
This desire for Sabbath keeps us from acting as if we ourselves are gods. This desire keeps us from the most dangerous and insidious form of idolatry: self love.
I witnessed a perfect example of this danger on the heels of Hurricane Katrina. After the flooding of New Orleans, several thousand evacuees were sent to Austin. The town pulled out all stops to be hospitable and helpful. The convention center was full of clothes, people to help with computers, child care, food, and . . . clergy.
Evacuees arrived on Saturday. I went to a clergy training on Monday. A few clergy had been on site since Saturday. One had not been to bed since Friday night. He was dedicated, determined, helpful to the people, but would not go to sleep because he was certain there was a crisis that needed his attention.
After the meeting, he was told to go home and get some rest.
Monday night, I was back at the convention center. I met up with this pastor at 11 p.m. as I was leaving. I asked him if he had been home. “Yes,” he said. “I went home, saw my daughter for a couple of hours. She’s five, she can’t do without me. My wife can do without me. I hung out for a couple of hours and then drove back.” (He lived in San Antonio an hour and a half away).
I pointed out that he might get sick if he didn’t sleep. He could do a lot more good if he had a few hours rest.
He assured me he does his best work on little sleep and said no ministers were signed up for the middle of the night, so he needed to stay.
I pushed again by saying, “You know, most of these people are poor and sad today. They’re going to bed, and they are going to be poor and sad tomorrow. There’s not much to do tonight”.
I obviously didn’t understand the urgency of the moment. He stayed.
This is a stunning example of the inability to make ourselves rest, even when rest is needed. There is always one more person to visit, one more revision to the sermon, one more committee meeting, one more . . . something.
I challenge you to stop and realize that each and every one of those “one mores” will still be there after a rest.
But Sabbath keeping is more than just rest. It is refraining from things that cause others to labor. It is refraining from commerce. It is allowing yourself to experience a day once a week where you live as if all that is necessary has been provided; a day when you live as if you never left Eden. This is difficult to accomplish, and requires discipline. It is especially difficult to accomplish in a society that has no desire to keep Sabbath of any sort.
We must begin to understand that we do not conduct ministry from a disembodied self. Ministry is not something that takes place just in one’s head and hands.
We were given bodies over which we are stewards. We must tend these gifts as we would other gifts. This means that we must be attentive to what we feed ourselves, when we feed ourselves and how we feed ourselves. Do we grab whatever is around, or do we sit and offer thanks? Do we try to eat fresh foods free from harmful chemicals and fats? Are we concerned about the way in which what we consume was grown or harvested or slaughtered? In other words, does what we consume deplete the world more than it invigorates and nourishes our bodies? Do we eat for comfort or for fueling our bodies? We have been taught to pray for daily bread. We seem though, to be consuming more than our apportioned shares. And as our bodies are out of that holy rhythm, we are becoming ill and dying.
Of course, stress and depression lend themselves to our demise. The unrelenting stress of ministry can be attributed to many factors: congregational conflict, fewer support people, lower salaries with higher expectations. Some of these problems are systemic and must be addressed by denominational bodies. Compensation packages that include adequate remuneration and healthcare benefits must be reviewed honestly. If pastors and their families need a certain level of compensation and the congregation cannot offer it, then they are not called to sacrifice themselves or those they love to service in the church. Pastors may be called to a life of service, but self-induced martyrdom is not required or particularly inspiring.
Piety is a word I would like to see us re-claim. Daily acts of piety can take many forms. You can pray, sing, meditate, write . . . the list goes on and on.
One pastor told me she felt spiritually adrift. She had no prayer life. She felt burdened, stressed, and about ready to leave ministry. She loved her congregation, but felt the more she gave, the more they took. Since she was single it was as if there was a general expectation she had nothing else to do.
She decided she would begin praying each day. She chose a time and each day she would kneel and pray in her office.
One day she realized things just weren’t working when, while praying, she overheard a conversation outside her door. Two parishioners were in the ante room. One wondered if he should knock since the pastor’s door was shut. The other said, “Oh no, go on in she’s not busy, she’s just praying.”
It was at that point the pastor decided to begin running. She told her congregation that she would run every day, she would not have a cell phone with her, so they could not expect to find her for a while each day, and she promised she would pray for them while she ran.
Today she’s running marathons, her congregation is talking about daily acts of piety, and the pastor is feeling less stress…not to mention she is in terrific shape.
It is time for us to take long hard looks at ourselves. Are we telling the world that we are trying to live in holy communion when we are grossly overweight, dying from stress, and lonely? Are we pointing to hope or are we beacons of the brokenness of the world?
The practice of ministry is a hard art to master. It is one that requires a life-long and whole-life commitment. Somewhere along the way, we have strayed. Society passed us, the church rapidly was re-shaped and obviously our bodies are living examples of the stress of change.
I am confident we can turn these trends around. It won’t happen overnight and we do not know what the results will be. But if the leaders of our churches are healthier, I am convinced so will our congregations be. Some congregations may need to die, some merge, some change, but they will be healthier none-the-less.
It can happen, one step, one mouthful, one breath and one prayer at a time.