In my latest column for Global Sisters Report, I look at the need for rest as a critical aspect of engaging in life and our call to faithfulness. I hope that you get a chance to relax this summer amid work and apart from it. May the God of the Sabbath make space for the Spirit to expand in our resting and may we take the time we need so that that Spirit has room to breathe in us and the world!
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Summer break can mean many things: days at the beach, time
to curl up with a good book, or a pause amid the daily grind to reconnect with
family and friends. With activities including barbecues, service projects,
annual retreats and long weekends away, the summer offers a time to shift with
the seasons, find a new rhythm, or (at least) put our current pace in
perspective.
For some, summer is a season of vacation, while for others,
it is a busy time spent facilitating those spaces for others. Regardless of
where you find yourself this summer, I think something about the "in
between" moment of the season invites our recollection.
Two email signoffs recently caught my attention. The first
came as a response to my hope that the sister I was corresponding with was
enjoying the change of pace that comes with summer. With kindness and honesty,
she wrote of a few projects she needed to work on, after which she hoped
"to enjoy this pace of which you speak!"
The second came from an acquaintance who knew I'd recently
completed a degree program and hoped I would have a moment to breathe before
moving on to my next ministry. "Hopefully, these days are feeling a little
freer," she wrote before posing a few questions about a project we're
preparing for later in the summer.
After reading each email, I took a deep breath, imagining
the freedom we all hoped for in our responses. In between time, after all, is
what we make of it, and such freedom is as hard (or as easy) to come by as we
make it.
Looking at my summer calendar, I can see this truth playing
out in real time. The difficulty of the in between is how we choose to embrace
it. That embrace can be as easy as settling into a seaside lounge or as tight
as a schedule packed back-to-back with engagements and appointments. In our
busy lives, we sometimes see free time not as a time to rest but simply as
available or otherwise unoccupied time. Rather than saving time for recharging,
we often pack it with other to-dos and miss the regenerative power of being
free and changing our pace.
Of course, we all face demands to do more. The reasons are
many and varied. For some, time off isn't an option. With mouths to feed and
bills to pay, time off is an unaffordable luxury. For others, the idea of
taking a prolonged rest might seem to fly in the face of the pressing demands
of our world. With all the suffering and injustice in the world, rest appears
to be a luxury or disengagement from the things of the world that demand our
attention and action. From this point of view, the question arises: How can we
take time to just be when there is so much yet to be
done?
This question, of course, is a false dichotomy. Rest is
neither solely for the rich or privileged, nor is it unavailable to the poor
and marginalized. Rest is a universal need and right. We each are called to
refill and make space in our own way. Rest is found in our making time and
space and our intention in taking it. Actively choosing such rest is an act of
resistance in a culture that demands productivity and directly correlates worth
with activity and output.
In her 2022 presidential address to the Catholic Theological
Society of America, "Remembering the Rest of Life: Toward a Rest-Inflected Theology
of Work and Action," Christine Firer Hinze makes a poignant plea for
rest as part of our Christian call to action. "In the face of the
potential endlessness of all the good work to be done," Firer Hinze asks,
"how do we better understand, incorporate and advocate for good rest, not
as a grudging accommodation to our finitude, but as an essential human,
societal, and spiritual good?"
By framing rest as an essential element of faithful action,
Firer Hinze calls all people of goodwill to account for the nature and
underlying motivation of our rest, examining our resistance to rest and the
grounding power inherent in genuine rest.
Finding rest means facing the pressure to produce and the
perception that productivity defines our worth. Solutions to such culturally
pre-programmed restlessness are not simple, or one-size-fits-all. Part of
learning to rest comes from reevaluating the unhealthy standards we've set for
ourselves.
Early in my religious life, I remember meeting with a wisdom
figure in my congregation about what advice she would offer a younger member.
"Say yes to whatever you are asked to do," she replied
wholeheartedly.
I sincerely believe that she was telling me to be open to
opportunities and share my gifts with a sense of abundance. Yet her response
also delivered a message about working without abandon (or rest). Years later,
I realized you can't say yes to everything. You must choose wisely, discerning
when 'yes' is a prudent response and when rest might be a better choice for all
involved.
In time, I've come to cherish those people in my life who
have modeled such regenerative and integrated habits of rest, prayer and
service. Their example challenges me to reevaluate my work patterns and find
rest amid and apart from my everyday life. As Firer Hinze highlights, such rest
is integral to embodying a just love of ourselves, our God, our neighbors and
all creation.
Drawing on the work of Tricia Hersey, the founder of The Nap Ministry, we
would be right to embrace a space of rest this summer — to grow in community
and faith. This is because rest is not a solitary endeavor but a communal
effort and investment. Restoring ourselves gives back to the communities we
belong to. Rest enables us to rely on others; it makes us vulnerable and lets
us lean into the support and care of others.
Rest also humbles us. Our need for rest shows us that we are
human. To be faithful to the practice of rest both amid our service and apart
from it is an act of faithful charity. We rest so that we can better love, and
by resting, we recognize that rest — the very act of sabbath-making — is part
of our call as people of faith.
Learning to rest and applying those lessons is
countercultural. As I stress about the projects that lie ahead and a new
ministry on the horizon, I feel the temptation to fill my time, to be
productive in the service of something other than the call to be present to the
feelings of the in between. Resting this summer is a call to develop patterns
and practices of rest in every season of our lives. That is a call that I, at
least, could use practice in answering. (Maybe you could, too.)
