Sabbath as Resistance: Saying No to the Culture of Now

Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God. On it you shall not do any work, neither you, nor your son or daughter, nor your male or female servant, nor your animals, nor any foreigner residing in your towns. For in six days the Lord made the Heavens and the earth, the sea and all that is in them, but he rested on the seventh day. Therefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy.

- Exodus 20: 8-11

Clearly, this is not a commandment that we follow. I don't know anyone who does. What self-respecting American would admit to resting on Sunday? We busy ourselves running errands, doing chores, working from home, and accomplishing a plethora of other "meaningful" tasks. We may make it to church, but all too often it's just another thing on the to-do list.

I don't know any other commandment that Christians break so blatantly, so proudly. In thirty years of going to church I don't think I've ever heard a sermon the fourth commandment. In fact, my only real consideration of this commandment is generally relegated to a mild feeling of annoyance over the closure of Chik-fil-a on Sunday.

That was the case until I read Sabbath as Resistance. Walter Brueggemann's book is truly counter-cultural. No, it is not a loud rallying cry for the socialist rabble-rouser, but rather a quiet, scholarly treatise for the thinking Christian. Brueggemann, a veteran Old Testament professor, dissects this familiar text in a way that I had never before considered. He outlines the contrast between Pharaoh's system and God's system. Under Pharaoh, the Israelites were held in slavery to the Egyptians, a system that demanded an ever-increasing output. They had no day of rest, no dedicated time of worship. But God's system demands otherwise. God does not request, He demands one day out of seven. On this day the Israelites were to lay down their tools, set aside their striving, and merely rest. Rather than cultivating the land they were to cultivate a spirit of worship; they were to trust in a Provider who does not depend on ceaseless human effort. The fourth commandment sets the stage for the entire ethic of the Israelite economy. Later, Leviticus 25 commands one year of rest out of every seven. Every fiftieth year, the Year of Jubilee, required the return of property and the reunification of families, along with necessary rest for the land. That, my friends is counter-cultural. We Americans have a holiday called Thanksgiving. And we can't even manage that. We hit the stores at 7 p.m. on Thanksgiving Day, ready to acquire everything we don't have. Clearly, living by the Sabbath ethic is perhaps the most striking form of resistance we could muster today.

Brueggemann posits that Sunday should be an intentional day that eschews work and consumption in favor of neighborliness. Rather than being task-oriented, the Sabbath should be people-oriented. Admittedly, I really wish he'd just left off that last part. I can give up my tasks, but use Sundays to cultivate relationships? To serve my community? Unfortunately for me, that seems quite biblical. In fact, based a thorough perusal of Leviticus 25, I believe that the whole point of the Sabbath year and the Year of Jubilee is to ensure a community that supports and provides for one another while relying on God to sustain in the absence of work. You would be hard-pressed to find any passage of the Bible that speaks too highly of personal gain. Enjoying God's blessings? Certainly! But striving seven days a week for my own profit? It's just not there.

I don't think Brueggemann is advocating a radical socialist overthrow, however, I think you could easily conclude that modern capitalism is not completely biblical. Brueggemann is encouraging us toward resistance, but resistance of the best kind. Not the blocking-off-traffic-to-stage-a-protest resistance, but a resistance to the culture of independence, to the constant striving for status, for wealth, for things. It's a resistance that gives back rather than takes away. It's a resistance that serves rather than inconveniences.  It is a meaningful effort to make the world a better place by shifting our priorities. It is a resistance that requires one day a week - one day to think about what is truly of value. And maybe - just maybe - the attitude shift that occurs in that one day will filter into the other six. Brueggemann even goes as far as suggesting that if we take one day to restore our priorities, we'll be able to more easily follow the other nine commandments. He asserts that so many of the sins outlined in the Ten Commandments are committed out of a desire for personal gain. We lie, cheat, murder, commit adultery, etcetera, because we want something that we have placed above God. We worship an idol. The fourth commandment gives us one day to remember our true God. If we use that one day well - if we are pulled back in, away from our corrupted priorities - maybe then we will be empowered through the grace of God to avoid some of the lying, cheating, and coveting on all the other days of the week.  It's an interesting theory, and one that is not totally unique. In Mere Christianity C.S. Lewis states,

"We have to be continually reminded of what we believe. Neither this belief [faith in God] nor any other will automatically remain alive in the mind. It must be fed."

What if, one day a week, we intentionally readjusted our routine to remind ourselves that there are no other gods but the One True God? What would happen to society if we as a Christian community made a commitment that one day a week we would stop envying the haves and give to the have-nots? Perhaps, if we replace our own endeavors with a commitment to charity, we may see a glimmer of hope, an ounce of restoration brought to this broken, selfish, world.  

"Fever" by Mary Beth Keane

"There is nothing new under the sun."

A good look at history will tell you that. The recent Ebola outbreak led to soaring sales of The Hot Zone, quarantines established - and fought - throughout America, and a widespread media-induced panic. Since I'd already read The Hot Zone I turned to another medical story, a novel called Fever which traced the path of Mary Mallon, the infamous "Typhoid Mary" of turn-of-the-century America.

Rewind about 110 years and a similar - though I'd argue far more frightening - disease was overtaking cities, creeping into the homes of the rich and poor, and often taking its victims among the youngest members of society. Typhoid was not so contagious that it required hazmat suits and disinfection chambers, but rather, good hand-washing and basic hygiene was all that was required to prevent the spread of this deadly illness.

It says a lot about America as the time that the disease spread so rapidly. We were not a clean society. At the turn of the century cities had grown at breakneck speed in the headlong rush of laissez-faire capitalism. Urban sanitation systems simply could not keep up with the exponential rise in population. Additionally, Americans, historically a rural agricultural people, lacked experience in effective city planning and management. Early 20th century America looked quite a bit like cities in the developing world today where typhoid and a host of other preventable diseases still threaten the world's poorest populations.

Into this context came Mary Mallon, an Irish immigrant who made her way to America on a 19th century famine ship. Through her own stubbornness, hard work and persistence she became a renowned cook in the homes of New York City's elite. Yet, she brought disease along with her delicacies. Mary was an asymptomatic carrier of Typhoid. She infected a confirmed total of 53 people over the course of her career, and was dubbed "Typhoid Mary" in the papers. She fought the NYC Health Department at every turn. After Mary was forcibly quarantined for three years, she was released after signing an agreement to never cook for hire again. However, she worked her way back into the profession, first in a bakery and then in a hospital kitchen, working under the pseudonym Mary Brown. When an outbreak of Typhoid wracked the hospital Mary was once again caught and sent to live out the rest of her life in quarantine.

Mary Beth Keane's book Fever humanized Mary Mallon's story. Perhaps Mary Mallon should be vilified for going back to work as a cook (in a hospital kitchen no less!) but throughout the story, the author gave us a glimpse through Mary's eyes. She simply could not understand how she could be a carrier of such a deadly disease. In this era, medical knowledge of bacteria was still very new. Most ordinary citizens did not understand how bacteria was carried from the bathroom to the kitchen. It's hard to imagine this today, in our society of obsessive attachment to antibacterial soaps, disinfecting cleaners, and hand-sanitizers marketed in every size, shape, and scent. All Mary knew was that she'd never been sick a day in her life. She had trouble believing the doctors' claims that she was carrying invisible microbes of death. Additionally, this was well before the era of worker's compensation, minimum wage, or effective unions. When Mary was told she could no longer cook she was relegated to one of the lowest-paying jobs in the city - working as a laundress seven days a week. Mary felt compelled, out of necessity and out of pride, to once again seek work in her chosen field. She could not accept the evidence that was presented to her, that she was a sick woman actively infecting others with her cooking.

Mary's delusions did not end there. The author introduced an ill-fated love story between Mary and a shiftless alcoholic named Albert. Ironically, I think I had less patience for Mary in her romantic life than in her lethal professional life. One can understand why she ached to return to cooking, but I could not fathom why such a strong and independent woman kept trying so hard to have a relationship with such an undeserving creature - especially when another, far better, prospect presented himself! I have not been able to confirm rather the relationship was real or made up for dramatic effect, but it served to further emphasize Mary's persistent personality. She would not give up on her career, just as she would not give up on Albert. She should have given up on both. In the end, Mary's stubbornness was endearing, but was also her greatest flaw - at fatal flaw that did not kill her, but ended the lives of many others.