In a published sermon entitled “The Birth,” writer, theologian and Presbyterian minister Frederick Buechner, imaginatively tells the story of Jesus’ birth from the point of view of the innkeeper. The innkeeper recognizes that, because he turned the Holy Family out into the night telling them that there was no room for them in his inn, he has become a villain in the retelling of Jesus’ birth. Defending himself, he recounts all the completely justifiable, rational reasons that kept him too busy to welcome this anonymous bedraggled family into his inn on the day of Christ’s birth. His reasons are rooted in his innkeeper responsibilities; in all the small, incessant demands requiring his attention, coming to him from multiple directions, asking him to do more than he could. He describes all the things that kept him too busy to see, too busy to stop, and too busy to rest, so that in the end he missed the big event, he missed the birth, he missed welcoming Jesus into the world and into his heart.

The sermon is effective because we all recognize ourselves in this innkeeper. It is not because we have bad intentions to keep ourselves too busy to rest. We look around and see needs that demand our attention. We have compassion that asks us to leave our own needs and concerns behind to ease the pain and discomfort of others. We strive to meet what seem to be reasonable requests that only become unreasonable because of the number that come to us from so many different directions. We might recognize we are tired, but we know we can push ourselves just a little bit more. We want our work to be exemplary, our care to be felt, our parishioners, family and friendships to be nourished through our presence. Our intentions may be wholesome and good, yet there is a lack of trust in the goodness of God that lies hidden in our busyness and in our hesitancy to rest.

Learning from Jesus

The first chapter of Mark’s Gospel begins with Christology. The prologue tells us why we should care about Jesus (cf. Mk 1:1-13) and is immediately followed by a description of the typical activities that filled a day in the life of Jesus (vv. 14-45) — preaching about the kingdom of God, calling forth disciples, performing exorcisms and healing multiple people. These activities form the heart of his ministry, but nestled among these ministerial activities is a significant moment, a moment of stopping, a moment of retreat, a moment of rest. Jesus rises early in the morning and withdraws “to a deserted place, where he prayed” (v. 35).

His absence is disconcerting to his disciples, who go out to look for him. The Greek word used to describe the disciples’ pursuit could literally be translated as hunting, expressing both the intensity of their search and the remoteness of Jesus’ withdrawal into solitude. The disciples confront Jesus saying, “Everyone is looking for you” (v. 37). The implication of the disciples’ statement is that Jesus is letting people down. Jesus has healed many people, but there are many more who are seeking to be touched, to be healed, to experience the saving presence of Jesus.

Jesus responds in an interesting way. He is not concerned with what they have told him but expresses what he has heard from God in prayer. He knows that he is to leave Capernaum and travel to other villages. Because Jesus has withdrawn to a place of rest, a place of retreat, a place of prayer, he is not distracted by the needs and demands coming at him from multiple directions. Instead, he simply knows where God asks him to go next. Because he withdrew for rest, Jesus has the wisdom to say no to others, even those with real need, and to say yes to God. Jesus has the humility to recognize that he is human and finite and must entrust the many people he cannot reach to the abundant goodness of God.

Jesus advises his disciples to follow his practice of withdrawing for rest. After an active time of ministry, the Twelve report to Jesus all they have done. He says to them, “Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while” (Mk 6:31). Rest is an essential aspect of Jesus’ ministry and a direct command from Jesus to those who dedicate themselves to his service.

Jesus’ practice of rest is grounded in sabbath practice, a practice so essential it is written into the first creation story. After creating the world and all that is in it, God sets aside a day for rest. Sabbath practice is about pausing to know the providence and abundant goodness of God’s presence and to remember our identity, that we are created in the image and likeness of God. Because the world bombards us with messages that tell us we are not enough; because we are vulnerable to both external and internal slavery to tasks and demands; because worldly anxieties and pressures make it difficult to breathe deeply and crowd out the space in our hearts for God, God commands a practice of sabbath. That commandment is every bit as important as the commandments not to steal, murder, lie, covet or commit adultery. It is a commandment that is to be lived out in a physical practice of withdrawal, prayer and rest.

Though many lay people have lost the art of resting and squander the gift of sabbath time given to them by God, at least there is a day, Sunday, set aside for worship, quiet, family and rest. For priests, this day may be the busiest day of the week. This makes the practice of sabbath more complicated and yet every bit as essential. Practicing sabbath requires a plan, attentiveness and commitment.

Practicing Rest

The first step in establishing a practice of rest is to choose a day. If a whole day seems impossible, at least half a day should be set aside for rest. Just as Jesus withdrew into the wilderness to rest, we need to establish boundaries between our day of rest and the rest of the week. This might mean traveling to a more remote location, but if this isn’t possible, it could mean closing our doors and turning off phones, computers or other devices that keep us plugged into the demands we face every other day of the week. As we set these boundaries for withdrawal, we can also shift our internal relationship with time. Rather than using time to accomplish, shift to receiving time as a gift. Receiving rather than accomplishing is a theme for our sabbath practice.

Once we establish boundaries and shift our internal clocks, we have the freedom to choose our way into spaciousness. Some find their deepest rest in solitude while for others spending time with loved ones is renewing. Some want quiet reading, while others want physical exertion.

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Thomas Merton on Life’s Busyness

Thomas Merton, in his book “Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander” (Image, $19), addresses the busyness of life and the need to get away.

He writes: “There is a pervasive form of contemporary violence to which the idealist most easily succumbs: activism and overwork. The rush and pressure of modern life are a form, perhaps the most common form, of its innate violence. To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many demands, to commit oneself to too many projects, to want to help everyone in everything, is to succumb to violence. The frenzy of our activism neutralizes our work for peace. It destroys our own inner capacity for peace. It destroys the fruitfulness of our own work, because it kills the root of inner wisdom which makes work fruitful.”

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There are multiple pathways for healing and nurturing rest, but it is essential to remain attentive. If we choose solitude, its purpose needs to be to receive God’s presence more deeply into our hearts and not as a program of self-improvement. If we read, the reading should nurture our hearts rather than feed our egos. If we choose physical exertion, it should be in the spirit of play rather than in a driven, competitive spirit. These internal shifts are necessary because it is often more difficult to quiet our internal habits of pushing and performing than it is to turn off the external noise around us.

We must remain attentive to the ways we can fool ourselves about our practice of sabbath. We can convince ourselves that if we attend to our tasks prayerfully, we don’t really need time for rest. We can convince ourselves that activities like dining out at a restaurant or attending sporting events or parties are really resting, but these activities do not take us from giving, doing and accomplishing to receiving, opening and listening. Real rest requires a shift from life lived on our own terms to receiving God’s life-giving presence.

Jesus Invites Us

Jesus offers an invitation to his disciples saying: “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light” (Mt 11:28-30).

Rest occurs twice in this invitation. The first mention of rest implies passive reception, rest is received as a gift by those who come to Jesus (cf. v. 28). The second mention of rest ties the gift to an action on the part of disciples. Rest is not merely received but found by those who take Jesus’ yoke upon themselves and learn from him (v. 29). Within the invitation is a proposal for a way of life that is paradoxically both a gift and a task.

The first step in this paradoxical way of life is simple. We are invited into God’s presence through Jesus. Jesus offers this invitation to us when we are feeling weary, and when the burdens we carry in life have become too heavy. All we are asked to do is listen to our weariness, let go of the demands that have become too much for us, and seek rest in the presence of God. As we rest in God’s presence, we will be led quietly and naturally into the second step, the step of taking Jesus’ yoke upon ourselves and learning from him.

A yoke is a wood frame placed over the necks of two or more draft animals to join them together and allow them to use their weight efficiently to pull large objects. Interestingly, if the yoke is made well and fits well, it distributes the weight of a heavy burden in a way that makes it light and easy to pull. Jesus does not promise that any yoke we take upon our shoulders will fit. It is his yoke, the yoke rooted in his humble and gentle heart and flowing from our relationship with Jesus, that we take upon our shoulders.

When we withdraw for rest, the first step in the invitation, we are led more deeply into a relationship with the humble, gentle heart of Jesus. Jesus’ heart is humble and gentle because Jesus practices rest; and because of that practice his life is rooted in and flows from complete and utter trust in God. We are given rest through receiving God’s presence in the person of Jesus Christ, and we find our own rest by doing the work God calls us to do, work that fits us perfectly because it is work that continually deepens our relationship with Jesus.

We are unlikely to get the balance of gift and tasks correct. Too often, we are like the innkeeper in Fredrick Buechner’s imaginative retelling of the birth of Jesus. Our tasks begin to dominate our lives so much that even when God is knocking on our door, we refuse to let God in, and refuse to attend to the birth of Christ in our hearts. We need quiet and peace both externally and internally to hear the invitation and receive the gift of rest Jesus offers through his humble, gentle heart. The more deeply embodied our response to the invitation the more fully we will be able to shoulder the light burden of giving our lives to God for the sake of the world.

PATRICIA SHARBAUGH, Ph.D., is associate professor of theology at Saint Vincent College in Latrobe, Pennsylvania. She specializes in the field of biblical theology.