"I remember walking out into the cool Jerusalem morning..." by Daniel Gamble

I remember walking out into the cool Jerusalem morning about 6 years ago, looking for something to do. I had taken a trip to Jordan to help build a home with Habitat for Humanity. Since I was between jobs back home, I made the most of my airfare and crossed the border into Israel for a few weeks. In the courtyard of the hostel I was staying at, the groundskeeper was working on a piece of furniture. I asked if I could help him out; he accepted some help and was confused. I was a little confused as well. I had taken a month of work and was traveling a remarkable part of the world, and all I wanted, needed even, was to do a little work. 

There are a lot of insights here for me, but right now, I am thinking about rest, its necessity and challenge. The people I come from (WASPs), are hard workers. This is true broadly and specifically. The phrase, “Protestant work ethic” has become common language for the idea that historically, my people’s faith even informs how hard we work. Within my family, it is one of the primary ways I am thought of fondly by my mother and grandfather, the hard worker. 

What is the difference between being a hard worker and a ‘work-a-holic’? Assuming it is not semantics or someone hurting your feelings only, I would say it has to do with degree and health of the person. A hard worker has ability and contributes to society. A work-a-holic values work above its right place in the ecosystem of life; work becomes too much an identity and value center, leaving destruction within the person’s life. 

I am guilty of this. I can believe that my only good, my only worth, is connected to what I can do for others, can justify, can produce. And perhaps especially here in the US, some of the dominant voices strongly encourage my living this way. Thankfully, also here in the US, there is a potential antidote built into the system, weekends. 

The word “potential” is important here, because I do not believe most of us do a good job being formed by the rest days. The counter narrative, counter practice of the weekend, can be a powerful challenge to the often oppressive cultural and personal narratives/practices. The weekend can tell us that we can stop. The weekend can tell us about our value aside from utility. The weekend can tell us about beauty, play, and our longings. 

Stopping is perhaps the hardest part. Often I come into my weekend with my work brain. “What do I need to get done this weekend for it to be successful? What do I have to fix? What am I behind on?” Sometimes I practice a particular meditative type that begins with “stop”. Let go of the things you are holding. Settle down. Be still physically, internally. Most of the time, I need a practice to transition out of work mind. And usually, this moment involves some anxiety. That is a good indicator that you need to rest, disengage, settle down. 

In meditation, as in the weekend, or our small moments in between, we can remember ourselves. We can remember that disconnecting from all the value centers of our utility has not ended our value. Who is this valuable one? Aren’t they good? How lovely. 

Rest is hard for me. It is also extremely important. I need to be unproductive, which usually means I feel kind of stupid for a bit. And that is what was happening in Israel that morning. I was in the place to rest and play, but I still felt my value in work. Oh well. I keep practicing. When my fuses are blown and my red flags are going up, I can come back to rest and try again. When I can make it through the stopping step, then I can play, then I can delight, then I can be. 

Consider stopping today at some point. 

Consider letting go of your utility and finding how else you are valuable. 

Consider a way to use your body and intention to help facilitate this. 

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