In the 1960s in New Jersey, our suburban Sabbath looked like this:
Mom rushing around like crazy to get us through breakfast on time
Church
Mom rushing around like crazy to get dinner into our tummies to stop the growling
Dad taking a nap
And then—nothing. “Blue Laws” kept stores closed all day, and unless it was somebody’s birthday our extended family didn’t do anything either. It was the most boring day of the week (well, for a kid, anyway).
In the 1960s at my aunt’s house in North Carolina, our rural Sabbath looked like this:
My aunt putting a pre-made breakfast casserole in the oven
My aunt putting a roast in the oven as we left for church
Church
My aunt pulling the roast out of the oven and getting pre-made salads and condiments out of the fridge
My aunt taking homemade pies down from the shelf on the porch
My uncle firing up the ice-cream maker to entertain and feed us
My extended family and close friends stopping by in the afternoon and evening to “visit”
Aside from doing morning and evening chores (cows don’t wait to be milked) and serving prepared meals and doing the dishes, there was absolutely zero work done. No one dreamed of looking for a store to go shopping.
Lately I have been thinking about the magic of those long, slow Sundays at my aunt’s, devoted to church and socializing. The adults sat around and talked, and the kids ran around outside and yelled. And nobody worked.
Yesterday, I decided I had had it with the Internet. Not that I was about to give up my computer entirely—I am a writer, after all—but I didn’t go online, even once. I didn’t check my e-mails. I didn’t research my questions on the web. I didn’t watch the news. I didn’t surf my favorite YouTube channels or place any orders online. It could all wait. I even let the Sabbath mood spill over into the rest of my day. I listened to a spiritual lecture. I ate leftovers (and did the dishes). I took a nap (like Dad). I didn’t go shopping. In fact, I didn’t go out at all.
It was wonderful. But I didn’t realize how wonderful it was until this morning—when I woke up with an energy and enthusiasm for work that I haven’t had for weeks.
Part of it, I think, was just staying off the computer. If there’s one thing we need a rest from these days it’s the internet—the good, the bad, and the indifferent. Whatever amount of internet addiction each of us is subject to, going cold turkey for a day helps break the cycle. I think that’s an essential component of any day of rest in this century.
I plan to observe a rural Southern Sabbath next week too, just to see if it’s really as wonderful as I think. Want to join me?