Well, dear reader, today I have resolved to do something I almost never manage to do as a parish priest: absolutely nothing.
You see, Sundays are rarely Sabbaths for clergy. They are days of sermons, sacraments, and a fair bit of holy scurrying about, all of which is blessed but none of which is restful. But today—today I laid out no plan, drafted no to-do list, and made no noble resolutions. I intend to follow the ancient and venerable discipline of doing nothing beyond sitting, breathing, and, if God so wills, napping. One of my professors in Seminary used to refer to such days as “having a bathrobe Saturday.”
Jesus reminds us that the Sabbath was given as a gift, not a burden. It was never meant to be a spiritual marathon of rules and regulations, but a weekly reminder that God delights not in our exhaustion but in our rest. Somewhere along the line, our modern world seems to have mistaken busyness for holiness, as though rushing about were one of the Beatitudes. It isn’t. And yet, how often do we find ourselves at day’s end so tired that our prayers sound less like the psalms and more like groans?
Since returning from the Camino, my body—which still carries the ingrained discipline of a farm boy rising before dawn—has been staging a quiet rebellion. Instead of leaping from bed at six, it has conspired with the alarm clock to let me sleep a little longer. And perhaps that, too, is God’s way of nudging me to admit how often I’ve ignored His call to rest. It may also be my body’s way of saying, “You’ve walked across Spain, old boy. Sit down for once.”
The summer days are slipping quickly past us now, like children running downhill far faster than seems safe. Perhaps that’s the invitation of Sabbath—to slow, to breathe, to remember that we are not machines to be constantly wound up, but beloved children of God, given permission—even commanded—to rest.
So, dear friends, my prayer for you this week is simple: take the gift. Enjoy the long afternoon light, the quiet moment with a book, or even the gentle holiness of a nap. The Sabbath is not one more burden; it is grace wrapped in rest.
A Sabbath Prayer
Gracious God,
You created us not only for work but for rest,
not only for duty but for delight.
Teach us to receive the gift of Sabbath with joy.
Grant us peace in our bodies, quiet in our minds,
and renewal in our spirits.
May our resting remind us that we are Yours—
beloved, blessed, and held in Your care.
Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.