Sabbath in Late Fall
by Ruth Haley Barton
For everything there is a season...
Sometimes on the Sabbath
all you can do is
settle into the soft body of yourself
and listen to what it says.
Listen to
the exhaustion that is deeper than tired-ness
the hunger that is for more than food
the thirst that is for more than drink
the longing for comfort that is more than physical.
On the Sabbath
body and soul reach out for time of a different sort
Letting go is hard,
letting go of that which no longer works
that which no longer brings joy and meaning
that which is no longer full of life.
It seems cruel
That something that used to be so beautiful
should fall to the ground
sinking into the earthy mud along with everything else that is dying,
no longer recognizable for what it used to be.
It seems cruel but it is the way of things.
One generation gives its life for the next.
One season slips away so another can come.
One crop of fruit falls from the tree so that more can be borne.
One wave recedes while another gathers strength
to crash upon the shore.
It seems cruel
but it is the rhythm of things
And rhythm has its own beauty.
1 comment:
This reminds me of C's sermon series on the Sabbath (wow, that's a tongue-twister), one of the most personally significant I've ever heard. It's interesting to see the parallel drawn between the Sabbath rest and the slow, contemplative nature of autumn. At least, that's how I read it.
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