We are told in Exodus that “Six days shall you work, and on the seventh shall you desist.” So we are supposed to work 80% of the time, and rest 20%. How funny that we don’t argue with G-d about this equation. 80% of my time spent working? Why don’t we demand more time to stop? Maybe it is because, according to the sages, we are 80% body and 20% soul. Maybe it is because our brains and bodies evolved as we walked 10 – 15 miles a day across savannahs. Maybe because stopping was dangerous and put us at risk.

We had to stop at night when the moon illuminated the sky, giving us a sense that we were safe in the darkness. Maybe this is the real message of stopping on Shabbat; that we are safe in the darkness of the world that we inhabit on the other 6 days. If we stop we can be illuminated, or perhaps be a light that illuminates and warms other people. After all, lighthouses don’t walk around much.

What if the world stopped for 25 hours every week? No pollution, no war, no competition. Would that 20% be what makes the 80% sustainable? Is this another message of Shabbat? Sustainability comes from stopping.

How funny that I resist stopping on Shabbat, when I beg for it on other days. You know, those times that we wish would last forever, wishing that time would stop and let us hold our memories still in a moment of time. And yet when commanded to stop…I rush on. Maybe if I had to pay for stopping that was disguised as another religion it would be easier to embrace….like a meditative yoga retreat.

My doctor, a traditional Jew, dared me to stop. My orthodox girl friend invited me to stop, saying it would be good for my soul. So what am I afraid of? Self discovery, like that which comes while reciting the Al chets? That I might have to re-define my value in the world? That I might find G-d…..or that G-d might find my hiding place?

Jewish mystics explain that as the sun goes down before Rosh Hashana, the universe goes into a comatose state, it stops. A slumber descends on all existence; everything comes to a standstill in cosmic silence, in apprehension of our contract being renewed. So perhaps I am afraid that stopping might mean G-d will rewrite my contract…that I will need to find a new way of being in the world.

So I tried to stop, but the world moved on. The phone rang, friends invited me out for lunch, my email filled up, the slopes beckoned, and the mall opened early. Wow…this is harder than I thought. I am out of step and out of time with the world around me….but in step and in time with Shabbat and that 20% of me that wishes to illuminate the world for good. Oh cool….in some ways stopping makes me rebellious. OK, I can do that

My goal then this year is to increase the time I stop on Shabbat, second by second. To become Shomer al z’man, a guard of time. Rather than building a fence around Shabbat, I am going to use Shabbat as my fence around stopping.

Shana Tova.

The sequel starts

The voices were back whispering in my ears along with the early morning breeze blowing in the window. Not demanding, not suggesting, but perhaps inviting me to a half-forgotten event I had agreed to attend. I wasn’t sure which was scarier, that fact that the voices had left, or the fact that. They were back

The morning light was just creeping through the slats of the shutters on my bedroom window, laying a loving diffuse light on the bed, which unfortunately I was the soul occupant of, except for about 10 pounds of cat.. My fiancé Joshua was on assignment somewhere near Mesa Verde and would not be back in Denver for another week. He was cutting it close since our wedding date was only two weeks away and there still seemed to be so many details to attend to. Of course, that might be why he had decided to take a bit of work so far from home.