Reclaiming Our Day of Rest
(Page 2 of 3)
January / February 2004
Rabbi Arthur Waskow From the book Take Back Your Time
In the 50th year, the land was not worked so it could breathe
freely once again. All land was redistributed in equally productive
shares, clan by clan, as it had originally been held (Leviticus 25
and 26: 34-35, 43-45; Deuteronomy 15: 1-18). These yearlong Jubilee
observances that the Bible calls shabbat shabbaton
('Sabbath to the Sabbatical power' or 'deeply restful rest') are
times for enacting social justice and freeing the earth from human
exploitation. They are times of release from attachments and
habits, addictions and idolatries.
RELATED CONTENT
Insomnia. Almost everybody has it at one time or another. Some poor souls live (or barely live) wit...
In the last couple of years, amid high gas prices and economic gyrations, the term staycation enter...
It’s time for the left to stop fearing patriotism...
It's time for the left to stop fearing patriotism...
Indeed, in these socially revolutionary passages of Torah, the
text never uses the word tzedek -- justice -- but instead
the words shmitah and dror, which mean 'release,'
what Buddhists today call nonattachment. The deepest root of social
justice, according to these biblical passages, is the profoundly
restful experience of abandoning control over others and over the
earth. The tradition of Shabbat does not teach that restfulness and
utter nonattachment is the only worthy path to walk. Rather, the
tradition is rooted in an earthy sense of sacred work as well as
sacred rest. Indeed, the tradition teaches a rhythm, a spiral of
doing and being in which the next stage of doing is always higher
and deeper, because a time of being has preceded it. According to
Evan Eisenberg's book The Ecology of Eden, this rhythm of
Shabbat may have emerged from an effort of Western Semitic
communities to cope with the emergence of monocrop agriculture in
the Sumerian empire. Semitic small farmers, shepherds, and nomads
had to face the new high-efficiency agriculture, which brought with
it population growth, ownership, and armies.
The question was, what should the communities of Canaan do? They
could ignore the new efficiency -- and go under. They could imitate
it -- and see their culture disappear. Or they could learn what was
valuable -- and godly -- within it, and absorb that into their own
lives in ways that kept their culture both sacred and
distinctive.
So one year out of every seven, they pretended to become hunters
and gatherers again. They would eat only what grew freely from
uncultivated land. They re-affirmed their age-old teaching that God
alone, and no human being, owned the land. They came through this
profound challenge to their sacred life path changed -- but they
were still intact as a people whose Sabbatical restfulness was the
sign of their covenant with God.
In the past century, all traditional communities on Planet Earth
have been living through an analogous crisis. The great leap in
economic efficiency and military mastery that came with modernity
played the same role in shattering the ways of Rabbinic Judaism,
Christianity, Islam, and Buddhism that Sumerian efficiency and
power played in the ancient Semitic communities.