Here’s the brief illumination on the second poem that As Surely as the Sun Literary Journal published on August 4th. Follow this link to read all three poems in full.
How much of our annoyance with each other, our bitterness, our complaint and silent suffering, is due to busyness? Every great story has some element of sabbath in it. Because sabbath is the moment of reconciliation and peace. Not the performative peace of atonement and forgiveness. The simple peace of being being with someone in some shared space, and joining thoughts, smiling at shared hope, shared desire, feeling the boundaries of self thin. This is the truest ending to any story. It doesn’t come from vanquishing an enemy or completing a quest. It arrives unbidden, within an insistence on rest.
Martha and Mary have been turned into types, and then those types have been set against each other. As if to say that we must always live in competition, and that people can’t exist in any other mode. But we can, of course. Martha does not need to be chastised for her bitterness. Mary does not always have to symbolize those who refuse to help with the work. When their brother dies and Jesus comes to visit, it is Martha who asks questions, who sits and speculates, who asks for solace in her grief. Mary remains with the other women, mourning in ways that are expected of her. Both sisters take turn being wild, being thoughtful. Both know how to sweep a floor. They are not types. They are real people, shifting through the different modes of life.
Sabbath must be one of those modes. We cannot know God if we don’t know how to rest. God is more present in our rest than our busyness. But God will not hurry away while we make dinner and sweep the floor. God waits for us, for the finishing of our tasks, for the moment when we sit down at the table, in a state of peace, with all variations of ourselves present and at rest.
KPB Stevens 