"Remember to keep the sabbath day holy" (Exodus 20.8).

The human is about his business ceaselessly, but he seldom has time to think about the eternal things; of God he is seldom aware. He believes he has no time for religious speculations, and certainly none for worship, in a world of strenuous activity, crowded with momentous events and requiring his constant attention. Time for prayer is invaded by the busy routine of mundane activity. That prayer is as necessary for the welfare of the soul as air is for the body is a consideration that is seldom consciously entertained, since it does not impose itself directly on us in our working hours. But our agitated round of works grinds in due course to a halt on the rocks of stress. This shows itself in the guise of physical disease, mental breakdown, emotional upheaval and sometimes even in anti-social activity that betrays the high calling of humanity. All this is in the gamut of psychosomatic disorder as it afflicts us personally. But it can assume inter-personal dimensions also, so as to disturb family relationships and eventually overflow into conflicts with those who work with us. Indeed, this accelerating process can reach a climax in national disharmony, as among ethnic groups or between labour and management. It may culminate in a serious breakdown of community relationships whose end is war, whether civil or national.

This then is the bitter harvest of human activity that is not centred in the divine presence. It is activism, the obsessive need to do something at all costs simply to justify our existence and to prove our power to control events. Instead, we are controlled by the fruits of our labour and become trapped in a vicious circle of events that have in them the seed of fearful destruction. Since man working on his own sows the seeds of his destruction, should we rely entirely on God to direct our lives, remaining quiet and responsive but doing nothing that is not impressed on us from above? This tendency taken to its extreme position is called quietism. It is a heresy as dangerous as activism, for it denies the free will given to us as rational creatures, and leaves us open to any impulse arising from the unconscious and purporting to be divine. There are some groups of religious enthusiasts who believe that in their times of quiet meditation the authentic voice of God comes to them, giving infallible instructions that have to be obeyed. Unfortunately the matter is not as simple as this, for organized complexes in the unconscious can often assume a convincing leadership when given free rein, as can also indifferent psychic forces in the emotional milieu surrounding the person. We have in the end to do our own work; God will not do it for us. The old maxim that God helps those who help themselves is true, provided we have the wisdom and courtesy to call on God in prayer as we pursue our daily work. In our world God acts primarily through the human personality, or as the Bible puts it, "God created man in his own image" (Genesis 1.27), giving him absolute power over the other creatures. When we consider how in fact we are made in the divine image, it seems to be in our ability to respond directly to the divine presence that we come closest to God. That response at its highest makes us behave in a God-like way, as it did in the person of Jesus Christ. This is the mark set before us, and how we meet its challenge determines the ultimate value of our life on earth.

It is clear that the divine-human initiative determines responsible action in our world. If, as Psalm 127 reminds us, unless the Lord builds the house, its builders will have toiled in vain, it is equally true that no houses will be built except by the enterprise of the human mind and the labour of its body. The necessity for human collaboration in God's scheme is a measure of his love for us; we are not mere puppets, but are partners in his great enterprise. On our response lies the world's future. I am convinced that if we will destruction, God will not forcibly intervene. But we hope his presence in the lives of at least some people will serve to avert a calamity in time.

In the strange story of the tower of Babel that occupies the first part of Genesis chapter 11, we have an account of a population of ambitious humans out to dominate their environment, perhaps eventually the world. It appears that God is so disturbed at the potential strength of this group that he confuses their speech, so that they no longer speak a common language and can no longer understand one another. Then they are dispersed over the earth, leaving off building the city with its tower reaching to the heavens that was their ambition. The most probable explanation of this sequence of events, parable as it surely is, is that man working on his own without deference to God soon falls into conflict with his neighbours. Love alone cements human relationships; where the insolent pride of human ambition is the driving-force, love is displaced by expediency, and the weak are sacrificed to the demands of the strong. In due course the society collapses into civil strife with a disintegration of the monolithic unit into disorganized fragments that disperse over the face of the earth, gradually losing contact with each other. Love alone can reunite the fragments, and this may take aeons of time to achieve; Christians believe that the reconciling work of the Son and the renewing power of the Holy Spirit have striven ceaselessly in the direction of reunion and healing, but much has still to be done.

It is therefore right that a certain part of our working life should be set aside completely for us to commune with a dimension of existence that lies beyond the world of commerce, physical labour and intellectual striving. Of course, the period of sleep that punctuates each waking day affords us some relief from the demands of labour, but in this state we are unconscious. It is important to have a period of peace when we can contemplate God and his many blessings in direct awareness and thanksgiving, at the same time enjoying those blessings. The fourth commandment enjoins us to do all our work in the six days of the week, but on the seventh, which is a sabbath of the Lord when he rested after the labour of creating the universe, we too should abstain from all work. This applies to our family, household, and animals and also to any alien living with us.

The abstention from work does not include spiritual endeavour; indeed, our spiritual life is fostered by its direct openness to the unseen world, for a short time unclouded by mundane concerns. In this way the minister of religion plays his part in leading his flock in worship, and all those who can sing lift up their voices to God in rapturous praise. As God, even during the Sabbath, never ceases from his work of maintaining his creation with life and power, so we too aid this eternal work by being especially open to the divine grace and sending it to all the dark places by the power of prayer. Jesus was not merely justified in performing works of healing on the Sabbath, but was in fact choosing the best time for this work. In the temple the presence of devout worshippers would have assisted him by their prayerful attitude: even Christ, Son as he was, needed human support, as is seen more poignantly in the Gethsemane sequence when he took Peter, James and John with him to fortify him in the terrible ordeal ahead of him. They failed, because they could not understand what was happening - the spirit was willing enough but the flesh weak, a return to St Paul's lament on the divided nature of the unredeemed personality. Later on they did understand, when the risen Lord forgave them and sent the Holy Spirit down upon them. Nevertheless, their presence must have been of some support to Jesus during his earthly ministry, while they, in turn, were trained by him as far as they could understand his teaching.

Of course, not all Jesus' sabbath healings were done in the temple; for instance, he healed the man who had been crippled for thirty-eight years at the sheep-pool in Jerusalem. But I believe that the general atmosphere of prayerful observance that permeated the Holy City played its part in Christ's work, and this would be especially powerful during the Sabbath. This consideration also reminds us that a period of spiritual rest is not simply one of relaxation and diversion. On the contrary, it is to be devoted to God's service in prayer which finds its end in human regeneration. The Sabbath, like other religious rituals, can all too easily become an end in itself, insidiously assuming the nature of an idol. The impression gained from the gospel is that the Sabbath had a strongly legalistic character among the devout Jews. Indeed sabbatarianism is a feature of some Christian groups also, notably those with a fundamentalistic approach to Scripture. Once the Sabbath has assumed the quality of a rigid code of worship devoid of all lightness and joy, it soon becomes a prison for mind and body alike. To be sure, the less spiritual aspects of our nature may be repressed for the time being in the unconscious, but they will reassert themselves with a vengeance later on. They may indeed assume a pseudo-spiritual character of fanatical puritanism in which the pleasure of persecuting all unbelievers can present itself as a service to God. Man is often at his most terrible when he is a self-appointed defender of God; the god he is in fact defending is a human institution with himself and his colleagues as the preservers of it. The nameless God of reality is crucified as he was at Calvary. Thus Jesus taught that the Sabbath was made for the sake of man and not man for the Sabbath (Mark 2.27).

The value of the Sabbath can be related to various levels of the human personality. On the purely physiological level, the day free of arduous work, by which I mean work for wages, allows the body to be given rest. There are few more delectable experiences than that of giving oneself freely to providence in the knowledge that no active labour is expected of one. It is akin to the total relaxation of the body that is a precursor of the period of sleep. It also implies a trust in the created order of life, that we can rely on it absolutely and rest in its beneficence. If the six days of toil are our contribution to the life God has bestowed on us, the day of rest is his gift to us when we can be as open to him as a little child and receive his grace quietly without any disturbance around us. This relaxation of the body from the tension induced by the heavy labour the world exacts for success in a competitive society means that we can imbibe and enjoy our natural environment with fresh awareness.

Anxiety and ambition project our shaky confidence into a vague, shadowy future so that we lose sight of the one central reality, the present moment in time. It is easy to lose contact with the immediate situation while we distort our perception of it by projecting our fears and desires on to it. As a result stress builds up through our emotional response to the mountain of difficulty we conjure up in front of us. We create the mountain with our minds but eventually it assumes a reality of its own: all creation starts in the mind, as thought is the precursor of action, whether beneficial or detrimental. Blurred thought creates imperfect forms that can easily trap us into voluntary imprisonment. The Sabbath therefore has a valuable psychological effect in breaking the vicious cycle of unproductive thoughts and precipitate, obsessive action. It gives us a time for mental repose when our minds can be filled with more profitable thoughts as we meditate on the greater world of natural beauty to be acknowledged and explored, of enriching personal relationships to be enjoyed and extended, and of unseen reality to be sensed and revealed. It is in this last context that communal worship can be especially valuable, but it is merely the prelude to a more inward worship of God in the silence of one's own heart. Indeed, it must be admitted with regret that some forms of communal worship are deeply disturbing, if not offensive, to the more sensitive type of believer. It is for this reason that there should be, at least in our present state of spiritual development, a number of different forms of available religious observance. None is perfect, and perhaps all are eventually to yield to a worship of God in spirit and truth in the footsteps of the universal Christ who gave up his own life for humanity in faith and love. When this worship is upon us, the Holy Spirit will finally lead us to a full knowledge of God.

On the moral level of well-being, which is the experience of the soul establishing judgements of value in personal relationships, the Sabbath lifts us beyond the attraction of money and the enticement of power. It shows us the transitory nature of worldly magnificence and brings us closer to ourselves: what we are, what we shall become if we refuse to change our attitudes, and above all what will become of us when we die. At that great moment of truth we shall be stripped finally of all illusions, be divested of all possessions, and have to face ourselves as we really are. What we are will be shown by the truth of our relationships with other people and the amount of care we have given while we were alive in the flesh.

On the spiritual level, the Sabbath reminds us of our constant dependence on God, our gratitude for what we are and may become, and the necessity for prayer. Indeed, the Sabbath is a day especially available for remembrance of the divine Creator and communion with him in prayer. Since the whole day is available for recreation, we can offer ourselves without stint to God for healing and renewal. We are commanded not only to remember the Sabbath but to keep it holy. Holiness, as we have already seen, is an attribute of the Deity; it separates him from all that is unclean and corrupt; it emphasizes his transcendence of all human devices and passion. But in the form of his Son he visited the earth, taking on the nature of a man and becoming deeply involved in all things human. Therefore the Sabbath is not a time merely to avoid the sordid aspects of life in order to enjoy a welcome interlude of peace - if this were possible. It is even more a time to become especially open to the pain and suffering of the world, while simultaneously being grateful for the good things God has provided for us personally. The enjoyment of nature, where God adorns the smallest flower with radiant colour and illuminates the life of the humblest creature with a character all its own, is a spiritual treat especially available when we are not overburdened by the cares of our calling. The enjoyment of convivial company in sport, where the competitive aspect merely adds flavour to the informal encounter, is a Sabbath relaxation. Since time is less obtrusive in its urgency on this day we can revel in the company of those we like, and share more fully in the lives of other people also.

From this we can see that holiness does not consist in separating ourselves from all that is earthy and enjoyable. On the contrary, it includes a loving participation in the things of the world, free of financial demand or personal aggrandizement. They are there for us to enjoy; we are there in turn to exalt and transmute the transitory earthly scene into something of immortality by our care and love of it. In the sabbath consciousness we become less aware of price and more of value; the former grasps, the latter transfigures. When we can glimpse the beauty in a face we had previously taken for granted, we begin to see afresh the power of God in all things. When we can enjoy our own body in exposing it to the renewing power of nature, we begin to understand what St Paul meant when he called the body the temple of the Holy Spirit. That Spirit is around us and in us, and when we are still in thought but alert in response, we know the Spirit, allowing him to transform us as we give of ourselves to the world in unselfconscious abandon. The Sabbath is, in fact, a time in which we can be ourselves fully and unashamedly. The end of the Sabbath is to bring that authentic person into the harassing world of commerce and labour, so that it too may be lifted up to something of God's Kingdom.

All this is summed up in the act of enjoying ourselves. In its popular context, enjoying oneself means escaping from the routine of work and immersing oneself in a round of entertainments. While there is nothing intrinsically wrong in such a period of pleasant diversion, and indeed it may form a necessary relief from the tension of earning our living and being constantly alert for the inroads of hostile influences, it is a shame that such enjoyment in fact bypasses the self and concentrates the attention on outer things. To enjoy oneself is to revel in one's own being, not in a narcissistic orgy of self-praise, but in an act of thanks-giving to the Creator. "Thou it was who didst fashion my inward parts; thou didst knit me together in my mother's womb. I will praise thee, for thou dost fill me with awe; wonderful art thou, and wonderful thy works" (Psalm 139.13-14). The Sabbath is a day par excellence when we can look beyond the needs of immediate subsistence to the life of eternity interpreted by mindful awareness of the moment in hand. In this moment each phenomenon and event is a disclosure of God at work. In the celebrated observation of Thomas Traherne, "You never enjoy the world aright, till you see how a sand exhibiteth the power and wisdom of God: and prize in everything the service which they do you by manifesting his glory and goodness to your soul, far more than the visible beauty of their surface or the material services they can do your body" (Centuries of Meditation, 1.27). After expanding on this thought he attains the important conclusion, "Yet further, you never enjoy the world aright, till you so love the beauty of enjoying it, that you are covetous and earnest to persuade others to enjoy it" (1.31). The Sabbath is the time set aside for us to see truly and fully the world in this illuminated glory, when the power of God can touch us in undiluted strength, when healing can reach us from the unlimited providence of the Deity.

As a result of this changed attitude, we can respond in a totally generous way to the impact of our fellow creatures, whether human, animal or vegetable. And they in turn respond positively to us by giving us their very essence. The Sabbath opens up a vision that transcends the acquisitive quality of everyday life where we have to fend with grim determination for ourselves, and are dominated by distrust of those around us lest they get the better of us. The Sabbath lifts the occluding barrier of anxious self-interest, leaving us open to the welcoming love of God. From this love we can in turn flow out to all those around us. Losing our sense of selfish isolation, we begin to discover our identity in all things; being open to the perfect love of God in the holy Sabbath, we move beyond fear and enter a realm of heavenly trust. Indeed, the well-observed Sabbath is our introduction to heaven, which is best understood as an atmosphere of complete openness to God and to our fellow creatures: the love of God, of self and of our neighbour constitute a reflection of the Holy Trinity, which in turn directs our gaze to the undivided unity of the Deity.

The Sabbath is therefore the day when our mind can ascend to unimpeded enjoyment of the creation. This enjoyment extends to charity and self-giving, no longer in terms of duty, let alone recompense, but as a response to the joy within us. Life is a joyous experience, as the advent of each spring reminds us after the long barrenness of the preceding bleak winter. This does not mean that human life is easy; on the contrary, its punctuation with periods of trial and tragedy serves especially to illustrate the marvel of God's providence when once more the sun of beneficence shines and we can rejoice in our own nature. For it is the destiny of man to participate in the very being of God, as we read in 2 Peter 1.4, a promise shown in the life of Jesus Christ, and one in store for us also. What we see dimly now is to be fulfilled in the life of eternity, when death is swallowed up in the victory of self-discovery. This self can never die, and is to resurrect the entire personality, because the centre of this self is God. We make this discovery as we live dangerously during the week and at peace during the Sabbath. In fact, as we know God better, so the Sabbath consciousness pervades our weekday endeavours in an even flow.

It was recorded in Matthew's account of the crucifixion of Jesus that when he died the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. At last the barrier between the sacred and the profane was breached, for in Christ even the most sordid elements of life were comprehended, healed and transfigured. The Sabbath, while concentrating our attention initially on the holiness of God, finds its end in making us increasingly aware of the holiness of matter, the creation of God. Two final insights about the Sabbath are worth pondering. The ancient rabbis used to teach that the Kingdom of God would come if only the whole of Israel would really keep a single Sabbath simultaneously. A teaching attributed to Christ from the Oxyrhynchus Papyri declared, "If ye keep not Sabbath for the whole week, ye shall not see the Father". As Jeremiah prophesied, ""If you invoke me and pray to me, I will listen to you: when you seek me, you shall find me; if you search with all your heart, I will let you find me", says the Lord" (29.12-13). The Sabbath is set aside especially for this inner work; once it becomes the power behind our outer work also, we will see the Kingdom of God.