You're Not The Boss of Me!
No one likes being told what to do, especially we in the Northeast who proudly call ourselves Yankee New Englanders. “DON’T TREAD ON ME” is what we say, and have said for centuries, to any fool who presumes to step on our spirit of freedom and independence to do whatever we want, whenever we want. I am quite mindful of this proud and enduring motto of ours as I write this column.
Religious leaders—clergy, imams, rabbis, and spiritual teachers of all stripes—feel responsible for encouraging their flock, their people, to observe sabbath time on a regular basis as a basic, spiritual practice. This burden of responsibility leads to much whining, kvetching, and grumbling among religious leaders: “Who in God’s name decided it was OK to schedule sporting events on a Sunday? Why aren’t parents more upset, speaking up, saying something? I know, let’s all agree right now to submit a well-written letter of disgust and protest to the newspaper!”
A drop of honey gathers more flies than a gallon of gall, says wise Mr. Abraham Lincoln. Thus, if there is indeed true merit to be found in observing sabbath time as a spiritual discipline, then would it not be wiser, as a form of persuasion, simply to point out the sweetness of what one could be enjoying, rather than imposing one’s odious sense of righteousness upon the wayward?
So here is a drop of honey for those who do not like to be told what to do: There is an eternally living, priceless part of you and part of me, identified within the pages of the oldest of spiritual texts, the Bhagavad Gita, which “fire cannot burn, water cannot wet, wind cannot dry, and war cannot ravage.” When we die, later today or one day in the future, this part of each of us goes on living. Even now, by choosing to befriend this part of who we are, we can live out all our days with a profound and enduring peace of mind knowing we have, at all times, in all places, and under all circumstances, direct and immediate access to endless reserves of patience and love, courage and strength, joy, beauty, wisdom and grace.
“Keeping the sabbath holy” is how our religious ancestors commend us to observe the proven, ancient practice of choosing regularly and faithfully to abide for a period of time apart from the world in which we work, play, shop, and nap. The more consistent you become in returning there, to that place beyond the demands of time and space, the more you come to realize within yourself the truth—thank you, 13th century Sufi poet and mystic, Rumi—that you are not a drop in the ocean; rather, you are the entire ocean in a drop.
Fools are those who presume to tell us what to do. Wise are we who come to know for ourselves, on our own, the living treasure we carry within and from whence we may choose to live. By willfully cultivating the habit of stepping out of the river of our everyday lives that sweeps us along shopping, playing, working, napping, rinsing, and repeating—we treat ourselves to a sweet taste of something infinitely more.