Monday, December 24, 2007 at 1:01am
Silence is not a waste of time
Column: Woman at the Well
This column originally was published on Jan. 29, 2007.
This day has called me into deep silence: Disconnect the phone, let the Internet wait, resist the friendly chatter of the television, let the radio and stereo remain unplugged. Today I've heard the friendly clip-clip of my dogs' long nails on hardwood floors as they roamed the confines of our small home, room to room, resting for a while in their favorite spots. Jackie, part lab, part chow, part something very short, has her leather armchair by the window where she surveys the world below our hillside house. Lois, part dachshund, part Yorkshire terrier, likes the center of my bed or one of the pillows on the living room sofa where she can shmush down into perfect comfort.
They lounge like queens and seem to ask with their sweet, trusting faces as they follow my every move: How can we help you rest too? What do you need in order to find true Sabbath in your life? (OK, they probably wouldn't put it in exactly those words, but I sense they are thinking: Are you OK? Can we help?)
A rabbi friend of mine recently was asked at a public forum what he felt was Judaism's greatest contribution to the faith of the world. His answer: "God said: Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy." He surprised everyone. The audience clapped. He said that surprised him. He expected them to disapprove. I thought the audience was just being polite. His answer has had me thinking all week.
Sabbath rest. What a concept. Do I dare? Not often enough. I tell myself the To-Do List calls. There is always more work to be done. Relaxing in silence is the ultimate in decadence — a waste of time. There is nothing to show for it.
But every time I resist the insistent nagging of my multimedia life, every time I really take a break from routine, every time I allow myself this kind of deep silence, something inside of me finds healing. I am renewed on a cellular level. My heart relaxes, feels stronger. My breathing slows and deepens. And I am surprised by the leaps of awareness and perspective that begin to appear in the aftermath of the down time. My creative soul is watered and enriched.
The times when nothing seems to be happening are seed times, fertile times. Shifts and changes and new understanding emerge. I never regret having made the time for Sabbath rest after the fact. The hard thing for me is to make the decision to take the time in the first place, and to stick to it, once I've begun.
Sabbath reminds me that the creator of the universe needed down time, and so do I. Sabbath blesses me with new insights. Sabbath whispers "trust." It is a form of self-care that nourishes love. It helps me to love myself enough to be able to love others.
This has been a very busy week. Today's Sabbath silence has been a gift. And even if no profound insights or creative inspirations come from my efforts, the silence has been a balm for my soul. My dogs are sleeping. A cat cleans himself on the love seat next to me. The city below sparkles in evening lights. Winter cold outside only makes the inner warmth more satisfying, in the silence of my Sabbath.
— — —
Rev. Kristi Denham is the pastor of the Congregational Church of Belmont, California (United Church of Christ). Her email address is {email RevKristi@aol.com}RevKristi@aol.com{/email}. © Copyright 2007 by Kristi Denham.
This day has called me into deep silence: Disconnect the phone, let the Internet wait, resist the friendly chatter of the television, let the radio and stereo remain unplugged. Today I've heard the friendly clip-clip of my dogs' long nails on hardwood floors as they roamed the confines of our small home, room to room, resting for a while in their favorite spots. Jackie, part lab, part chow, part something very short, has her leather armchair by the window where she surveys the world below our hillside house. Lois, part dachshund, part Yorkshire terrier, likes the center of my bed or one of the pillows on the living room sofa where she can shmush down into perfect comfort.
They lounge like queens and seem to ask with their sweet, trusting faces as they follow my every move: How can we help you rest too? What do you need in order to find true Sabbath in your life? (OK, they probably wouldn't put it in exactly those words, but I sense they are thinking: Are you OK? Can we help?)
A rabbi friend of mine recently was asked at a public forum what he felt was Judaism's greatest contribution to the faith of the world. His answer: "God said: Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy." He surprised everyone. The audience clapped. He said that surprised him. He expected them to disapprove. I thought the audience was just being polite. His answer has had me thinking all week.
Sabbath rest. What a concept. Do I dare? Not often enough. I tell myself the To-Do List calls. There is always more work to be done. Relaxing in silence is the ultimate in decadence — a waste of time. There is nothing to show for it.
But every time I resist the insistent nagging of my multimedia life, every time I really take a break from routine, every time I allow myself this kind of deep silence, something inside of me finds healing. I am renewed on a cellular level. My heart relaxes, feels stronger. My breathing slows and deepens. And I am surprised by the leaps of awareness and perspective that begin to appear in the aftermath of the down time. My creative soul is watered and enriched.
The times when nothing seems to be happening are seed times, fertile times. Shifts and changes and new understanding emerge. I never regret having made the time for Sabbath rest after the fact. The hard thing for me is to make the decision to take the time in the first place, and to stick to it, once I've begun.
Sabbath reminds me that the creator of the universe needed down time, and so do I. Sabbath blesses me with new insights. Sabbath whispers "trust." It is a form of self-care that nourishes love. It helps me to love myself enough to be able to love others.
This has been a very busy week. Today's Sabbath silence has been a gift. And even if no profound insights or creative inspirations come from my efforts, the silence has been a balm for my soul. My dogs are sleeping. A cat cleans himself on the love seat next to me. The city below sparkles in evening lights. Winter cold outside only makes the inner warmth more satisfying, in the silence of my Sabbath.
— — —
Rev. Kristi Denham is the pastor of the Congregational Church of Belmont, California (United Church of Christ). Her email address is {email RevKristi@aol.com}RevKristi@aol.com{/email}. © Copyright 2007 by Kristi Denham.