The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
In verdant pastures he gives me repose.
Beside restful waters he leads me;
he refreshes my soul.
In verdant pastures he gives me repose.
Beside restful waters he leads me;
he refreshes my soul.
"Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while." Although, in this story, the crowd pursued Jesus and his disciples and did not permit them to rest a while, we should do it -- if for no other reason -- in obedience to the Lord.
Many Jews regard rest as the heart of the Sabbath and have long reflected on the gift. Rabbi Heschel has written a wonderful book under that title. The Sabbath, he says, is like a temple of time rather than space. It comes to us and will find us wherever we are. A devout Jew locked in a dark, windowless dungeon would know and greet its arrival. Because we were liberated from slavery by the miraculous parting of the Red Sea and the annihilation of the Pharaoh and his army, working on Saturday is like returning to Egypt. It insults the Liberator.
Christians, of course, take their Sabbath on Sunday but the principle is the same. We come away with the Lord to a deserted place and rest a while in grateful obedience.
Apparently, we must go with him to "a deserted place," where our anxieties, worries, preoccupations, and social media cannot find us. We leave them behind. It is both fascinating and disheartening to see many fellow Christians and Catholics take their chains with them to churches, restaurants, and entertainment venues. They suffer FOMO, the fear of missing out, and would no more go out without their phones than than go without a leg or an arm. (My hearing aids are attached via blue tooth and I know immediately when the link is broken by distance.)
The Lord's wilderness is either solitude or true companionship. The word evokes the sojourn in the Sinai peninsula when the former Hebrew slaves relied completely on the Lord for their food, drink, and clothing. They were safe in that arid land where nothing grew and no hostile nation would resent their presence. Regarded as useless, ignorant "Apiru," they enjoyed the freedom of poverty. With no homes, gardens, or orchards to defend, their wealth was friendship with the Lord.
In the wilderness of solitude or companionship we can feel our own feelings without fear or shame; we can think our thoughts and express our opinions without being accused of ignorance or malice. We can ponder the word we heard in the wilderness of the Jordan rift valley, "You are my beloved."
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.