It's summer (almost). Do you know where your sabbath is, or what to call it, or what it looks like?
A friend of mine recently mentioned a wonderful phrase: "Going dark." As in, unplugged, off the grid, not available, not on email. Not that you have to sit in the dark necessarily (though that may well be a good idea). But that you need to detach, stop the machines from humming--you know, the ones that keep you humming and responsive and productive all year long.
"Going dark" as a summer discipline and treat may seem incongruous--the words conjure a winter time of burrowing and hibernation. Yet I think they are particularly pertinent to the time when many church newsletters have a column or two about the importance of rest, respite, recharging and renewal. The mystics speak of "the dazzling darkness of God" and they are not talking about something depressing, but of mystery, depth, an unknowing that can be exhilarating.
We need, to coin a word, "endarkment" as much as we need enlightenment: the times of deep rest, doing nothing, knowing nothing... back to an open and spacious place both mentally and physically. St. John of the Cross writes about the right kind of "nothingness." These concepts are not so much paradox as profound invitation to drop down, to drop balls, to just be. I think it is a form of radical trust; a posture of prayer.
I don't know about you, but I need it, as a recent week of illness has shown. For a book that will support you and challenge you, try Sabbath by Wayne Mueller. It's serious business, neglecting this ancient, vital concept called sabbath.
So, the summer challenge: What would it mean for you to "go dark" this summer? Can you think of what you would do, or more importantly, not do? Start your list... and watch it grow. Enjoy. |