Sabbath-Time: A Weekly Fast from Toil
There is a door inside every week.
When it opens, the air changes texture—
thick with stillness, bright with breath.
I step through and let the world keep turning without my push.
My Path to Sabbath-Time
I was formed in a Christian household where Sunday worship framed the week, yet “Sabbath” remained more sermon topic than lived rhythm. Only in my fifties—while studying with Marc Gafni and plunging into the well of Jewish mysticism—did I claim Sabbath as a practice, not a concept.
Today Sabbath-time is my self-chosen interval of 24 to 40 hours, once every week, when I refuse to toil—to strain, clutch, or prove.
It can begin Wednesday at sunset or Monday at dawn.
It may unfold in silence at home, on a walk in the state park across the street from my home, or under a willow oak with a guitar and a friend.
The simple litmus test: if the activity smells of effortful striving, I set it down.
Meditation is my other central practice; together they form a rhythm—in-breath (Sabbath-time) and out-breath (meditation). One dissolves effort, the other refines attention. Both reveal a life already whole.
Why a “Fast from Toil”?
Ancient Hebrew mystics spoke of menuḥa (meh-NOO-khah)—rest that is more than recovery; it is the felt taste of completeness. It is a sense of being home with nothing to achieve.
During Sabbath-time, I cultivate menuḥa by:
Unhooking from production: No emails, no content creation, no “one quick tweak.”
Letting desires uncoil: Eat when hungry, nap when sleepy, walk when body asks.
Meeting the moment unarmored: Sadness, delight, boredom—each is welcomed, nothing to fix.
Paradoxically, ceasing to push returns me to a deeper current that then powers the rest of the week.
An Invitation Beyond Any One Tradition
You need not light candles or recite Hebrew blessings (though you’re welcome to). What matters is the weekly covenant with non-striving:
Whether you draw from Christian sabbath echoes, Sufi dhikr (remembrance), Buddhist non-doing, or purely secular mindfulness, the principle is the same: one sacred refusal per week—“I will not buy my worth with effort today.”
| Element | How It Might Look for You |
|---|---|
| Timing | Choose a window that truly fits—Friday evening to Saturday dinner, or Sunday lunch to Monday sunrise. |
| Ritual Gateways | Begin with a breath, a cup of tea, a line of poetry. End with gratitude or a song. |
| Boundaries | Identify your personal signals of toil (scroll-anxiety, inbox reflex) and make them off-limits. |
| Qualities to Cultivate | Curiosity, spaciousness, unhurried movement, playful presence. |
Carrying the Stillness Forward
When the fast ends, I return to work with a subtle imprint—like incense in clothes after a vigil. Projects move, but I no longer confuse motion with meaning. The week hums with small echoes of menuḥa:
Pausing before a client call to feel one full inhale.
Letting a social-media post arise from generosity, not metrics.
Hearing the silent downbeat between guitar chords and knowing that is music too.
Try It
This coming week, mark your calendar:
Sabbath-time: _________ (start) → _________ (finish)
Theme: “Fast from _______” (emails? urgency? self-critique?)
Opening ritual: __________________________
Closing ritual: ___________________________
Then step through the door and let the world keep turning. When you return, notice what part of Heaven followed you back.
May your rest be spacious, your doing be easeful, and your life sing the secret name of menuḥa all week long.
