March 24: Sabbath Rest
♫ Music:
Day 39 - Saturday, March 24
Title: Sabbath Rest
Scripture: Hebrews 3:7-4:13
Therefore, just as the Holy Spirit says,
“Today if you hear His voice,
Do not harden your hearts as when they provoked Me,
As in the day of trial in the wilderness,
Where your fathers tried Me by testing Me,
And saw My works for forty years.
“Therefore I was angry with this generation,
And said, ‘They always go astray in their heart,
And they did not know My ways’;
As I swore in My wrath,
‘They shall not enter My rest.’”
Take care, brethren, that there not be in any one of you an evil, unbelieving heart that falls away from the living God. But encourage one another day after day, as long as it is still called “Today,” so that none of you will be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin. For we have become partakers of Christ, if we hold fast the beginning of our assurance firm until the end, while it is said, “Today if you hear His voice, Do not harden your hearts, as when they provoked Me.” For who provoked Him when they had heard? Indeed, did not all those who came out of Egypt led by Moses? And with whom was He angry for forty years? Was it not with those who sinned, whose bodies fell in the wilderness? And to whom did He swear that they would not enter His rest, but to those who were disobedient? So we see that they were not able to enter because of unbelief.
Therefore, let us fear if, while a promise remains of entering His rest, any one of you may seem to have come short of it. For indeed we have had good news preached to us, just as they also; but the word they heard did not profit them, because it was not united by faith in those who heard. For we who have believed enter that rest, just as He has said, “As I swore in My wrath, They shall not enter My rest,” although His works were finished from the foundation of the world. For He has said somewhere concerning the seventh day: “And God rested on the seventh day from all His works”; and again in this passage, “They shall not enter My rest.” Therefore, since it remains for some to enter it, and those who formerly had good news preached to them failed to enter because of disobedience, He again fixes a certain day, “Today,” saying through David after so long a time just as has been said before, “Today if you hear His voice, Do not harden your hearts.” For if Joshua had given them rest, He would not have spoken of another day after that. So there remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God. For the one who has entered His rest has himself also rested from his works, as God did from His. Therefore let us be diligent to enter that rest, so that no one will fall, through following the same example of disobedience. For the word of God is living and active and sharper than any two-edged sword, and piercing as far as the division of soul and spirit, of both joints and marrow, and able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart. And there is no creature hidden from His sight, but all things are open and laid bare to the eyes of Him with whom we have to do.
Poetry: Filling Station
By Elizabeth Bishop
Oh, but it is dirty!
—this little filling station,
oil-soaked, oil-permeated
to a disturbing, over-all
black translucency.
Be careful with that match!
Father wears a dirty,
oil-soaked monkey suit
that cuts him under the arms,
and several quick and saucy
and greasy sons assist him
(it’s a family filling station),
all quite thoroughly dirty.
Do they live in the station?
It has a cement porch
behind the pumps, and on it
a set of crushed and grease-
impregnated wickerwork;
on the wicker sofa
a dirty dog, quite comfy.
Some comic books provide
the only note of color—
of certain color. They lie
upon a big dim doily
draping a taboret
(part of the set), beside
a big hirsute begonia.
Why the extraneous plant?
Why the taboret?
Why, oh why, the doily?
(Embroidered in daisy stitch
with marguerites, I think,
and heavy with gray crochet.)
Somebody embroidered the doily.
Somebody waters the plant,
or oils it, maybe. Somebody
arranges the rows of cans
so that they softly say:
esso—so—so—so
to high-strung automobiles.
Somebody loves us all.
DILIGENT TO ENTER REST
“Evil, unbelieving” comes as an odd, even surprising juxtaposition. I’ve been ready to name as evil many things and actions—the commission of wickedness. Unbelief can sound so much like mere doubt, a forgivable weakness, that calling it evil seems like an overreaction. The admonition isn’t against a momentary stagger in the journey of faith, however, but against a chronic and willful distrust of God’s goodness. We see this in Exodus 32 when the people of Israel demand of Aaron, “Up, make us gods who shall go before us. As for this Moses, the man who brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him.”
What they want is a god rendered visible and predictable—that they might walk by sight and not by faith. A visible god banishes the need to remember the God who is not seen. But Exodus (and, indeed, all Scripture) resounds with the institution of laws and celebrations designed to mold God’s people through commemoration: “And when in time to come your son asks you, ‘What does this mean?’ you shall say to him, ‘By a strong hand the Lord brought us out of Egypt, from the house of slavery’.” (Ex. 13:14). These expressions of commemoration reach their ultimate fulfillment in the Eucharist: “Do this in remembrance of me.”
Exodus is the story of a people who persistently refuse to remember. They ask for new signs not so much having forgotten previous miracles as refusing to nourish their faith through individual and corporate remembrance when they confront trials designed to foster holiness: “Do not fear,” Moses reassures, “for God has come to test you, that the fear of him may be before you, that you may not sin. The people stood far off, while Moses drew near to the thick darkness where God was.” (Ex. 20: 20-21).
The author of Hebrews casts Israel as a cautionary tale, emphasizing the danger of unbelief as that which can render the good news of the Gospel as unprofitable. This peril may be avoided by the pursuit of faith through communal encouragement in the life of the church. We come together and remember, and it is through this communal commemoration that we may remain sensitive to the voice of God and find our rest even as we labor in the harvest of his kingdom.
It is this such rest that Millet depicts in his painting. His composition portrays factors that might seem incompatible with repose. The man and woman recline in clothes still damp with sweat, stained with dirt, and composed of coarse material to withstand sustained labor. To the insult of unsuitable pajamas they must make do with mattresses of straw and take inadequate shelter in the half-shade of the haystack. And, of course, the day is only half-spent. The sickles lie all too near, waiting with those potato-faced shoes for further employment. But in their faces we find deep and contented rest that dismisses all these objections as unimportant.
The same binary occurs in Bishop’s poem. The speaker revels with sardonic horror over details of the gas station that should seem to prohibit the possibility of comfort. She can’t help excessive description, returning to defects already identified: “oil-soaked, oil-permeated…grease-/ impregnated wickerwork…Somebody waters the plant / or oils it maybe.” But just as we become complicit in the poem’s cruel humor (be honest—the image of a hirsute begonia is hilarious), Bishop arrives at the startling and humiliating revelation that cracks through the speaker’s hardness: “Somebody loves us all.” The line reconfigures the conditions of comfort and home, inviting us to look through the poem again and re-perceive those objects and details once so scorn-worthy. The poem stages a miraculous shift in perspective of the kind that God invites us to practice.
It seems odd, even paradoxical, that we should be “diligent to enter that rest.” But this diligence is composed of those thousand daily surrenders contrary to my pride and sense of self-sufficiency. I’m lousy at taking hold of assurance. I harden my heart to God because He doesn’t answer my prayers when and how I think I want. I insist on perceiving of myself as hard-done-by, entitled both to his blessings and to my self-pity. The diligence I’m enjoined to practice denies that ultimately Satanic impulse to believe that my way is better, accepting that the promises of God anticipate every need and desire with greater provision than I can imagine. It perceives God’s love equally manifest in the thick darkness as in his glorious light.
Prayer:
Oh Father, we call to you and name you as eternal, ever-present, and boundless in love. Yet there are times when we fail or refuse to recognize you and your blessings. Sometimes fear or pride clench tightly around our hearts, and we hide. Sometimes doubt invades our faith, and we fail to remember your goodness.
In the daily round from sunrise to sunset, remind us again of your holy presence near and in us. Free us from pride, shame, and doubt. Help us to see and hear You in the moment and to live honestly, act courageously, and, in pursuing a life of obedience, to find and enter your rest. Through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.
Amen.
Phillip Aijian
PhD Student at University of California, Irvine
About the Artwork:
Noonday Rest
Jean-Francois Millet
1866
Pastel and conté crayon on paper
29.21 x 40.64 cm
Museum of Fine Art, Boston, MA
Jean-Francois Millet came from a deeply religious rural farming family, and saw the peasant-class as nobly fulfilling the words of the Old Testament Book of Genesis 3:19, which read: "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return." Millet depicted his peasants in the same manner earlier movements had reserved for more exalted subjects. As a result, his shepherds and farm laborers occupied large spaces on the canvas formerly occupied by historic and Biblical figures, or mythological heroes. Van Gogh found inspiration in Millet's style and subject matter, being drawn to his images of simplicity in the rural life of farmers.
About the Artist:
Jean-Francois Millet (1814-1875) was a French painter and one of the founders of the Barbizon school of painters in rural France. He was a naturalistic, Realist painter known for his scenes of peasant farmers. Millet began studying art in Cherbourg at eighteen. In 1837 he received funding to study at the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris. After ten years of mixed success while he supported himself with portraits, The Winnower appeared at the Salon of 1848 and was the first of his peasant pictures to sell. In 1849 he moved to Barbizon in Fontainebleau Forest, where he lived for the rest of his life, mostly in grim poverty. Millet portrayed the gravity, hardship, and dignity of common agricultural laborers. Between 1865 and 1869, he produced over one hundred pastels, considered among his finest works. After decades of struggle, he was awarded a medal at the 1867 Exposition Universelle and received the Légion d'Honneur in 1868. Millet's humanity toward peasant life deeply impressed many painters, including Vincent Van Gogh.
About the Music:
“O Love (That Will Not Let Me Go)” from the album Monuments
Lyrics:
O Love that will not let me go
I rest my weary soul in Thee
I give Thee back the life I owe
That in Thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be
O joy that seeks me through my pain
I cannot close my heart to thee
I trace the rainbows through the rain
And feel the promise is not vain
That morn shall tearless be
You will not let me go so I will trust in Thee
You won't let go so I will rest
You won't let go so I will trust in Thee
O I will rest in Thee
O cross that liftest up my head
I dare not ask to fly from Thee
I lay in dust life's glory dead
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be
You will not let me go so I will trust in Thee
You won't let go so I will rest
You won't let go so I will trust in Thee
You won't let go so I will rest
You won't let go so I will trust in Thee
O Love, rest in Thee
O Love, rest in Thee
About the Composer:
Lyricist George Matheson (1842-1906) was a Scottish minister and hymn writer who went blind at the age of twenty while studying for the ministry. His best-known hymn, “O Love That Will Not Let Me Go,” was written in a burst of inspiration “like a dayspring from on high,” completed in less than five minutes. Composer Albert L. Peace (1844-1912), a well-known Scottish organist of his day, wrote the music St. Margaret at the request of the Scottish Hymnal Committee. According to Peace, the music came to him as quickly as the text had come to Matheson: “After reading it over carefully, I wrote the music straight off, and may say that the ink of the first note was hardly dry when I had finished the tune.” Each of the four stanzas begins with a key word—Love, Light, Joy, and Cross—that are not only attributes of a relationship with Christ, but also names given to Christ.
About the Performer:
California native Madison Cunningham possesses a keen understanding of songcraft for someone just twenty years old. With an ear for melody that is reminiscent of an early Joni Mitchell, and approach to guitar and vocals similar to Jeff Buckley or Nick Drake, Madison exhibits a unique ability to keep the listener on the edge. The oldest of five daughters, Madison picked up a guitar at the age of seven and was singing with her sisters and family in church by the age of twelve. She currently tours around the country, with recent exciting shows at the Sundance Film Festival and on A Prairie Home Companion. Her latest EP, Love, Lose, Remember, was released in 2017.
About the Poet:
Elizabeth Bishop (1911–1979) was an American poet and short-story writer. She was Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 1949 to 1950, the Pulitzer Prize winner for Poetry in 1956, the National Book Award winner in 1970, and the recipient of the Neustadt International Prize for Literature in 1976. Bishop was greatly influenced by the poet Marianne Moore who helped Bishop publish some of her poetry. The friendship between the two women, memorialized by an extensive correspondence endured until Moore's death in 1972. During her lifetime, Bishop was a respected, yet somewhat obscure figure in the world of American literature. Since her death in 1979, however, her reputation has grown to the point that many critics, like Larry Rohter in the New York Times, have referred to her as "one of the most important American poets" of the 20th century. Bishop was a perfectionist who did not write prolifically, preferring instead to spend long periods of time polishing her work. She published only 101 poems during her lifetime. Her verse is marked by precise descriptions of the physical world and an air of poetic serenity, but her underlying themes include the struggle to find a sense of belonging, and the human experiences of grief and longing.
About the Devotional Writer:
A PhD student in English at the University of California at Irvine, Philip Aijian’s current research focuses on early-modern drama, specifically investigating Shakespeare's dramatic theology. Phillip lives in Fullerton, California, with his wife, Janelle, two adorable kids, and a cat named Cleopatra.