Shabbat (the sabbath) is, without question, the piece of Judaism I miss the most. It is also the piece I should most easily be able to keep. A yearning to, say, observe the Jewish new year, or a desire to hear the Torah chanted in Hebrew: Those things might be harder to incorporate into a Christian life. But the Sabbath! The Sabbath is a basic unit of Christian time, a day the Church, too, tries to devote to reverence of God and rest from toil. And yet here a Sunday afternoon finds me sitting in a coffee shop, spending money, scribbling in the margins of my book, unsure that I have opened my heart in any particular way.

God first commands the Sabbath to the Jewish people in Exodus, with the initial revelation of the Ten Commandments, and then again in Deuteronomy. The two iterations are similar, though not identical. In Exodus God says, “Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy,” whereas in Deuteronomy He enjoins us to “observe the Sabbath day and keep it holy.” Elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible, God elaborates upon this simple instruction, noting in Exodus 35, for example, that no fire should be kindled on Shabbat, and in Isaiah 66 that on the Sabbath, the faithful should “come to worship before me.”

There are, in Judaism, two types of commandments (mitzvot): the mitzvot asei, or the “Thou shalts,” and the mitzvot lo ta’aseh, or the “Thou shalt nots.” Sabbath observance comprises both. You are commanded, principally, to be joyful and restful on Shabbat, to hold great feasts, sing happy hymns, dress in your finest. Married couples even get rabbinical brownie points for having sex on the Sabbath.

And then, of course, are the mitzvot lo ta’aseh. The cornerstone of Jewish Sabbath observance is the prohibition of work in Exodus 20 and Deuteronomy 5: “You shall not do any work, you or your son or your daughter, your male or your female servant or your cattle or your sojourner who stays with you” (NASB). Over time, the rabbis teased out of the text just what the prohibition on work meant, first identifying 39 categories of activities to be avoided on Shabbat, and then fleshing out the implications of those 39 (if one is not to light a fire, for example, one also ought not handle matches or kindling).

It’s easy to look at the Jewish Sabbath as a long list of thou shalt nots: Don’t turn on lights; don’t drive; don’t cook; don’t carry a pair of scissors anywhere at all (for if you carry them, you might be tempted to use them, and cutting is also forbidden on Shabbat); it’s OK to carry a stone or a sweater or a scarf, but only inside your own house, not out onto the street and then into the house of another; don’t plan for the week ahead; don’t write a sonnet or a sestina or a haiku; don’t even copy down a recipe; and while you are allowed to sing, you shouldn’t play a musical instrument, and of course, you mustn’t turn on a radio or a record player.

What all this boils down to (and boiling is another thing you cannot do on Shabbat) is do not create. Do not create a casserole or a Valentine card or a symphony or a pot of coffee. Do not create anything at all, for one of the things the Sabbath reprises is God’s rest after He finished creating.

I remember, from my Jewish days, the language we used to name the Sabbath. We spoke of the day as Shabbat haMalka, the Sabbath Queen, and we sang hymns of praise on Friday night that welcomed the Sabbath as a bride. It is something of this reverence, and this celebration, that is missing from my Sabbaths now.

I remember the end of Shabbat, Saturday night. By the time Saturday night rolls around, part of you is eager to hop in your car and race to a movie, go out dancing, sip a late-night espresso. But still, even after a full day of Shabbat rest and even Shabbat toe-tapping boredom (because, let’s face it, occasionally Shabbat gets dull), even then you are sad to see Shabbat go. You mark the end of Shabbat with a ceremony called havdalah, which comes from the Hebrew verb meaning “to separate,” in this case separating Shabbat from the week. Havdalah involves a number of ritual objects—wine for tasting, a braided candle for lighting and a box of fragrant spices (cloves, often, and cinnamon), and you pass around the spice box because smelling the sweet spices comforts you a little, you who are sad that Shabbat has ended. One of the reasons you are sad is this: Judaism speaks of a neshamah yeteirah, an extra soul that comes to dwell in you on the Sabbath but departs once the week begins.

What, really, was wrong with my Sabbath? After all, I did spend Sunday morning in church. And I wasn’t working that afternoon, not exactly. A fine few hours, except that my Sunday was more an afternoon off than a Sabbath. It was an add-on to a busy week, not the fundamental unit around which I organized my life. The Hebrew word for holy means, literally, “set apart.” In failing to live a Sabbath truly distinct from weekly time, I had violated a most basic command: to keep the Sabbath holy.

I am not suggesting that Christians embrace the strict regulations of the Orthodox Jewish Sabbath. Indeed, the New Testament unambiguously inaugurates a new understanding of Shabbat. In his epistles, Paul makes clear that the Sabbath, like other external signs of piety, is insufficient for salvation. As he writes in his letter to the Colossians, “Therefore do not let anyone judge you … with regard to a religious festival, a New Moon celebration or a Sabbath day. These are a shadow of the things that were to come; the reality, however, is found in Christ” (TNIV). And Jesus, when rebuked by the Pharisees for plucking grain from a field on Shabbat, criticizes those who would make a fetish of Sabbath observance, insisting that “the Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath.”

But there is something in the Jewish Sabbath that is absent from most Christian Sundays: a true cessation from the rhythms of work and world, a time wholly set apart and, perhaps above all, a sense that the point of Shabbat, the orientation of Shabbat, is toward God. Pick up any women’s magazine from the last few years and you’ll see what I mean. The Sabbath has come back into fashion, even among the most secular Americans, but the Sabbath we now embrace is a curious one. Articles abound extolling the virtues of treating yourself to a day of rest, a relaxing and leisurely visit to the spa, an extra-long bubble bath and a glass of Chardonnay.

It seems to me that there are at least two flaws in the reasoning. First is what we might call capitalism’s justification for Sabbath rest: resting one day a week makes you more productive during the other six. And while that may be true, rest for the sake of future productivity is at odds with the spirit of Shabbat.

We could call the second problem with the current Sabbath vogue the fallacy of the direct object. Whom is the contemporary Sabbath designed to honor? Whom does it benefit? Why, the bubble-bath taker herself, of course! The Bible suggests something different. In observing the Sabbath, one is both giving a gift to God and imitating Him. Exodus and Deuteronomy make this clear when they say, “Six days you shall labor and do all your work. But the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God” (NASB). To the Lord your God.

Christianity, of course, has a long tradition of Sabbath observance, so a revitalized Sabbath is more a reclaiming of the Christian birthright than the self-conscious adoption of something Jewish. For Christians, who have long understood the Sabbath as a day for rest, communal worship and celebration, the Sabbath has an added dimension: It commemorates not only God’s resting from creation, but also God’s resurrection.

As for me, I am starting small. I have joined a Bible study that meets Sundays at 5, a bookend to my day that helps me live into Shabbat—there’s not enough time between church and Bible study to pull out my laptop and start working, so instead I try to have a leisurely lunch with friends from church. I have forsworn Sunday shopping (a bigger sacrifice than you may realize), and I sometimes join my friend on her afternoon visits to church shut-ins. Not much, when compared to the dramatic cessations of the Orthodox Shabbat; but still, the first arcs of a return to Sabbath.

Tips for Celebrating the Sabbath:

1) Sabbath does not have to be on Sunday or even a full day: Since many people work or volunteer with their local church, Sunday is far from a day of rest. Instead of adhering to the Christian tradition of celebrating on Sunday, choose another day where you know you won’t be busy. Even if you set aside one evening a week to rest, it would be beneficial.

2) Rest means rest, no work means no work: Try to cut out any busy activities like shopping, checking work email and cleaning the house. Turn off the TV and your cell phone. Journal, listen to worship, read, pray.

3) Incorporate some traditions into your time: Research the traditional Jewish customs of the Sabbath and incorporate that into your Sabbath time. There are traditional prayers that are recited during the Sabbath. You can find resources at www.jewfaq.org/shabbat.htm or www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org.

4) You don’t have to celebrate alone: One of the primary aspects in the celebration of the Jewish Sabbath is sharing of a meal. Gather your friends together after church or one night a week to cook a meal and spend time with each other.

Scripture References:

Genesis 2:2-3
Exodus 20:8-11
Exodus 31:12-17
Deuteronomy 5:12-15
Psalm 92
Matthew 12:1-13
Colossians 2:16-17

Excerpted from Mudhouse Sabbath (Paraclete Press) and used with permission.