A Matter of Spirit Summer 2022 - Rest

A P U B L I CAT I O N O F T H E I N T E R C O M M U N I T Y P E AC E & J U ST I C E C E N T E R • N O. 13 5 • S U M M E R 2 0 2 2

A Prayer for Rest Rest, it’s true, is something radical, And yet it was holy from the beginning— God pausing to look upon the created world And call it very good, Jesus always finding a quiet place, Sleeping even in the midst of a storm.

How far away we have wandered How infrequently we remember That God called us to rest, That Jesus offered rest to the weary. continues next page

R E S T In a Filipina Kitchen, Cooking is Rest • The Transformative Power of Rest: Insights from the Natural World A Spirituality of Rest: What Disabled Bodies Know About Rest • Shabbat and the Suspension of Purpose Fighting Sleep-deprivation Culture as a Catholic Woman

Help us, O God, to build a world In which human beings are valued Not for their output but for their sacredness, For the way they bear the image of the Divine.

In a land of long hours and scant pay, Scanter still for those who pick our food While we sit in our cool offices, Grant us all holy rest, O God, That we might take up the work of restoration Until the words of our prayers have become reality: “On earth as it is in heaven.”

Amen.

BY CAMERON BELLM

From the Editor We have a complex relationship with rest. Culturally, we are told that working hard, not complaining, and putting your head down is the way to get ahead. Due to our socioeconomic reality, rest is only available to the affluent. In ministry work, the amount of hours we work or how far we push ourselves is a marker of how committed we are to the mission. The cost of not resting is dramatic: mental health issues, physical sickness, high job burnout, anger, resentment, lack of creativity, and many times a drift away from purpose and values. We at IPJC are not immune to this struggle and have been asking the question, “How can we build a culture of rest?”

I have always struggled with rest, and I know I am not the only one, as many folks and communities that do mission-centered work also struggle with rest. We care deeply about the work we do, so much so that we struggle to step away. On my journey of learning to rest, I have discovered the problematic “suffering servant” mentality that I have been indoctrinated by, as well as my own inflated sense of self-importance. I must intentionally challenge these mindsets in order for me to create space for sacred rest.

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When I rest, I am better at all things, which is a way of saying I am more truly who God has made me to be. As Richard Rohr put it, I have the space to “return to myself.” Rest allows us to heal, to experience new ideas and experiences, to gain perspective, to sustain the difficult and tiresome work of social justice, and ultimately, to connect with God in more profound ways.

In this issue of A Matter of Spirit, we learn how cooking can offer rest, especially in a Filipina kitchen. We consider the transformative power of rest and the ways that it leads us to a more generative and expansive relationship with God. We hear a vulnerable and courageous story about the reality of disability and the ways that our cultural resistance to rest causes exclusion and harm. We learn about the beautiful Jewish tradition of shabbat and how it provides a model, structure, and theology that builds rest into its practices. And, finally, how our struggle with sleep as a culture impacts our health and well-being. We hope this issue can serve as an invitation to consider that rest is sacred and the act of resting is resistance.

—Will Rutt, Executive Director

In a Filipina Kitchen,

Cooking is Rest

BY LENY MENDOZA STROBEL, Ph.D.

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n Oneida elder once asked me: “Leny, someday you will no longer be an academic; you will be a culture-bearer. What is your cultural practice?”

I was taken aback by the question and I 1 surprised myself by saying: “I cook! Kapampangans cook.

My people are best known as good cooks. My homeland (Pampanga), in precolonial times, was a food mecca for visiting royals around Southeast Asia. We are people of the River (Pampanga means river shore). The Land and the River blessed us abundantly.”

Growing up in the Philippines before the advent of supermarkets, my mother went to the wet market every morning and brought home live fish, jumping shrimp, pinching blue crabs, and fresh vegetables from nearby small farms. In the early mornings, we were awakened by the pandesal (salt bread) vendor on his bike and the woman from Cabalantian selling tamales, suman (rice cake), and puto (steamed rice cake) from a native round basket she carried on her head. We ate well. We were nourished.

Mother always cooked enough to feed uninvited or drop-in friends, and she always shared a bowl with the neighbors who reciprocated with fresh cooked empanadas or chicharon. This was our village, a life of sharing. Then the Americans came and told us we were malnourished. They donated powdered milk, bulgur wheat, and margarine in cans. We were curious, but we were not impressed.

2 In the early years of my diaspora to Turtle Island , my homesickness was comforted by cooking—adobo, fried rice with garlic, lutung toyo (soy-marinated pork ribs with garlic, bay leaves, sugar, and salt), pancit noodles, and sweet rice desserts.

But what good was cooking with no one to share it with in the white middle class suburb where I landed?

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Ethnolinguistic group living in the Philippines principally in the central plain of Luzon, especially in the province of Pampanga, but also in parts of other adjoining provinces.

2 Indigenous reference to North America Article photos by the author (top to bottom): Filipino breakfast - garlic fried rice, egg, and daing na bangus marinated milkfish Ampalaya - bitter melon Sautéed bitter melon leaves A M AT T E R O F S P I R IT

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Cooking is meditation. Cooking is ceremony. Cooking is a sacrament. In the kitchen, memories of my mother and my grandmother accompanied my reverie and reflections about being an immigrant and why I didn’t understand my feelings of non-belonging, loneliness, and homesickness.

These reflections led to graduate school and a dissertation on the process of decolonization for post1965 Filipino Americans.

I am of the “brain-drain” generation, pushed out by national policy that saw the export of laborers as an economic asset to the country. We are the generation that was miseducated in a neocolonial educational system. It was in the diaspora kitchen where I found my voice and developed my critical thinking.

I started to invite other scholars and culture-bearers to Kapihans (coffee klatches) and merienda (in-between meal snacking) at my home. These gatherings were often graced by visiting scholars from the Philippines. There was plenty of food for the heart, the mind, hungry stomachs, and the Filipino spirit.

Around the dinner table we ate kamayan style (with our hands), loosened our belts, and laughed so hard at silly jokes… and then we shared our dreams of wanting to re-create communities of belonging which we call Kapwa (you and I are One). Soon we were planning retreats and conferences, dreaming of people we would invite to our pagbabalikloob (decolonization).

It never ceases to fill me with awe and gratitude that what follows a day of cooking and eating with the Kapwa is a deep sense of rest and wellness. The stories we bring to the table are stories of remembrance, stories of longing and yearning for this sense of healing to live in larger circles of communities. The individualistic culture that surrounds us doesn’t extinguish this fire of communal belonging. We are determined to stay nourished by this sense of Kapwa.

At our gatherings, someone brings chocolate from Davao; another brings coffee beans from Batangas; another brings 4

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bibingka (baked sweet sticky rice with coconut milk topped with leche flan) from a grandmother’s recipe, always out-jostling each other to get to the crunchy edges of sticky goodness.

We amuse ourselves as we talk of the way we have learned to indigenize pasta dishes like spaghetti by adding sugar and hotdogs. I’ve told stories of how my father would put ice cream on his pandesal, making an ice cream sandwich, and how we prefer our fish to be whole rather than filleted; how our elders would suck the fish head and spit out white bones.

These remembered stories of our cooking and eating practices live in the diaspora. Many U.S.-born Filipino Americans are re-connecting to these practices as a way to decolonize not only their palates but their psyches and souls. The embodiment of these traditions invites an angle of repose, of rest. What if

“What if we could rest our souls and bodies in the knowledge that our ancestors have always carried traditional indigenous knowledge beginning with the plants, herbs, and fruit trees; that the Land has blessed the archipelago we come from?” we could rest our souls and bodies in the knowledge that our ancestors have always carried traditional indigenous knowledge beginning with the plants, herbs, and fruit trees; that the Land has blessed the archipelago we come from?

Fortunately, in some parts of Turtle Island, we can grow calamansi (native citrus), malunggay (moringa), and ampalaya (bitter melon), now considered “superfoods” that can be found in pill or powder form at health food stores. Although we lament that our bangus (milkfish) has to travel thousands of miles and use fossil fuels to reach us, we often can’t ignore the call of sinigang na bangus [soup soured by tamarind or kamias (tree sorrel)].

In the diaspora, we tend to our community kinship ties in the kitchen, where we gather with friends and relatives to hand roll lumpias (spring rolls), chop vegetables for pancit (noodle dish), and mince pork to make more dishes. At Filipino restaurants, we compare their offerings to decide if they are as good as our mother’s home-cooked dishes. But deep in our hearts, what we are really seeking is that communal feeling of recognition that is missing in restaurants as we are served individual portions.

Even today, my palate’s memory remains with the indigenous dishes my mother cooked from scratch. The memory of food as sacrament, communion, and medicine to be shared in community, is in my cultural genes. All of this informs, or has been informed by, my work at the Center for Babaylan Studies, which was created in my kitchen by dreamers and visionaries who believed that our Filipino Indigenous knowledge systems and practices must be kept alive in the diaspora. It all began in the kitchen.

Dr. Leny Mendoza Strobel is a founding Elder at the Center for Babaylan Studies. Ate Leny is Professor Emeritus in American Multicultural Studies at Sonoma State University (SSU) and has many published articles and writings. Catch up with Ate Leny at: lenystrobel.com Article photos by the author: Kamayan dinner with friends, author second from left (opposite page).

Top to bottom: Lechon - homemade oven-backed pork belly Kapampangan dessert made with egg yolk, condensed milk, and caramel Produce from a friend’s garden

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The Transformative Power of Rest:

BY ALEXANDRA KOVATS, CSJP, Ph.D.

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entering ourselves in our stories of origin, whether the first creation story in Genesis or the Universe story of origin, our sacred stories point to a Universe that by its very nature and design is one of expansion and contraction. Genesis tells us of a primal, dense darkness that the Holy Spirit animated, and the world was bathed in light bringing forth life.

The scientific theory of the Big Bang, as an event of singular expansion from a state of immense density, imploded into the creation of an expanding Universe.

The very origins of our Universe’s birth contain the notion, pattern, and rhythm of contraction and expansion. Within this continuum of growth, we have the tension of activity and rest. The Universe models for us a very sustainable presence of being that at its core holds balance.

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“Christmas Earth” © Carrie Vall, CSJ, www.ministryofthearts.org

The dance of expansion and contraction is so basic to our Universe and our humanity that we see it in our most basic life systems, that of breathing.

We’d be in serious trouble if we only inhaled, and the same is true if we only exhaled. In order to sustain life, both movements need to be in harmony.

The Universe invites us, even compels us, to open ourselves up to new life and enclose our life in the still field of restful potentiality.

Living in this dynamic of expansion, we are always in transition, and the only constant core value is change amidst rest.

The challenge we have in today’s world is that an artificial, commercial, dominant culture pulls us to look at the world as polar opposites and claims its nature to be one of a dual existence. In such a society, we are invited to a never-ending

“The very origins of our Universe’s birth contain the notion, pattern, and rhythm of contraction and expansion. Within this continuum of growth, we have the tension of activity and rest.” wheel of industrious activity where goals are aspired to and met, a society that celebrates work and activity over rest, a society where we are rewarded for overworking and not taking a day off.

Insights from the Natural World The natural world calls us in a different direction, one that honors a deeper rhythm that is embedded in our very DNA, the circadian rhythms that govern our body and its cycles. These rhythms call us to inner cycles of rest and activity in a balanced response to our natural world. To take a countercultural stance to our 24/7 society, we must restore and return to these original impulses to be in harmony and balance with the natural world and its daily cycles and seasons. We must find our inner compass to navigate our spirit back to a sustainable, authentic way of being, that is consciously, intimately, and interconnected with creation.

How do we develop this deeper relationship to creation and the Universe as a guiding model to support us in our transformation? We live in a world that is rapidly changing its social constructs and norms, one that challenges the status quo. Our society is confronted with the reality of COVID-19, Black Lives Matter, Indigenous First Nations’ Sovereignty, gender fluidity, decolonization, the #MeToo movement, and reconstructing an accurate, equitable, and holistic history of our world—to name a few social shifts that we are encountering.

We are, in fact, experiencing socially what could be described as a big bang of human social evolution. It is in the creation of new, conscious, social growth that we see the margins becoming the center as we move past the known into the unknown, forming new life-giving realities.

We can accept a profound invitation to reclaim and reconnect the notion of contraction and expansion for new growth within ourselves, our community, and within our world. It is here where we need to recognize that between the contraction and expansion of the Universe, just as with the contraction and expansion of our breath, there is a pause, a holding, a moment of rest. In

this moment of full possibilities exists the tension and balance, the wholeness of contraction and expansion.

We are called to rest in order to grow.

The four seasons show us how winter gives birth to spring. In the natural world, we see this in the daylily that opens to the rising sun and closes at that same sun’s setting. Rest gives us time to integrate, incorporate, and steep in our formation of a new consciousness by allowing us to process deeply. Like the Universe, we must rest before expanding. We must

compassion with ourselves and others plays a transformative role. How we give ourselves permission to rest is akin to recognizing when we, like fruit on a tree, are ripe for rest, when it is our season.

When in relationship to another, we also must recognize the signs for harvesting their rest in their season. H. Richard Niebuhr said that “we live in time but time also lives in us.” Creating sacred space and time to rest is a powerful expression of gratitude, a sacred time when we pause and are fully present to

“We are, in fact, experiencing socially what could be described as a big bang of human social evolution. It is in the creation of new, conscious, social growth that we see the margins becoming the center as we move past the known into the unknown, forming new life-giving realities.” ask ourselves: Do I take time in my day, week, or month to rest so I can come back to center to process new growth?

In rest, we deepen our grounding in our 1 own autopoiesis , the act of honoring our inner dynamic of becoming ourselves.

As our consciousness expands, we become more inclusively present. It transforms us and enhances the quality of our presence. We are moved from just reacting to the world, to responding to it fully with our authentic selves.

Being present to rest this way creates sacred time for ourselves and sacred space outside of time that supports our engaging with our world.

Knowing the importance of rest, how do we honor our need to rest when communal dynamics require others to be active? This is where the practice of

the Divine unfolding in us, among us, and all around us. It is a time that in and of itself is the purest form of prayer because it is the full embodiment of incomparable, single-focused presence.

How you create your sacred time of rest can be as unique as you are, and you may find that the experience of rest is never the same but varies each time you welcome it as a spiritual practice. The way of rest as prayerful embodiment is both immanent and transcendent. Each season will bring forth new expressions of rest that are just right for that context.

Joseph Campbell’s famous quote, “follow your bliss,” is really apropos because when you seek out rest and invite it, you are indeed following your bliss. Rest can be a sheer joy for a life well-lived.

Alexandra Kovats, CSJP, Ph.D., is a Sister of

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The capacity of living cells to reproduce and organise themselves

St. Joseph of Peace, a retreat facilitator, and spiritual companion.

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A Spirituality of Rest: WHAT DISABLED BODIES KNOW ABOUT REST

BY SARAH PERICICH-LOPEZ

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orry, I can’t make it. I am going to the gym!”

This was a lie I told every day for the entire first year of university. It was a component of the mask I put on every day to hide my chronic illness from friends and family.

I told this lie because I had internalized ableism to the point that being honest about the fact I was taking a nap seemed unfathomable. When we live in a culture of productivity that values hustling above all else, people with chronic illness, or disability, feel they must do everything to conform in order to be valued. I was ashamed of my body and told myself a heartbreaking narrative that I was undeserving of love because no one should have to spend their life with someone like me. This ableist voice inside my head motivated me to lie about my daily naps, doctors’ appointments, medications, and desire for a slow pace of life. It was this voice that perfectly adorned me with an able-bodied mask and costume each day, the voice that told me that if I wore it, then I would be enough.

When you live with chronic illness and struggle to accept your illness, you never feel enough for yourself, your family, your friends, or your community. I began to project my fears and insecurity onto God. It is dangerous to assume we know more 8

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This was the last photo taken of me before being diagnosed with Lupus. For many people with autoimmune diseases it is difficult to be in direct sunlight. People in the autoimmune disease community will speak of waiting for their day in the sun. This does not always literally mean experiencing direct sunlight, but joy that comes from feeling the freedom and warmth of sunlight.

After being diagnosed it became a life pursuit of mine to dance in the sun. Photo from the Author.

about who God wants us to be than God does. Internalized ableism in the Church told me God does not want your disability, your body is deformed and disgusting, it is a mistake. It also told me if you pray for healing and show unwavering belief, then God will take this illness away from you. The broader ableism in the community pressured me to never take off the mask. There was never a point in time where I intentionally stepped before God completely naked. I was in pursuit of a specific, able-bodied, perfection in my public and private life. Ultimately, this led to my hiding and overcommitting myself to appear as someone I am not.

The hardship is that someone with chronic illness, and other forms of disability, does not have the privilege to hide or the luxury to overexert. The expectation of the broader culture to produce and brag about exhaustion puts disabled bodies in a position to not be able to properly care for ourselves. I began to learn rather quickly that either I honored the body I had by resting or I would be forced to rest.

This forced rest was not a glamorous selfcare day, but usually resulted in a hospital visit, intense medications, and lasting

consequences such as a prolonged health crisis that necessitated dropping courses or quitting jobs. Due to this forced rest, I often found myself unintentionally and horrifyingly naked before God. This nakedness felt a lot like humiliation and loss of dignity. I rejected my need for rest and would find myself at Jesus’ feet, exposed in a way that I think only people with disability fully understand. It is a pain that comes when we fail to step into our authenticity, assert boundaries, honor our needs, and deny our being created in the Imago Dei. This experience of authenticity is wrapped in a cloak of shame and is terrifying because we fear that we are so deformed and disgusting in our creatureliness that even God might reject us. Each time I found myself humbled at the feet of Jesus, I was too angry to look up and meet His gaze. Rather, I hung my head, covered it with my cloak of shame, and cried out to God in rage: “Why did you create me this way? Why can’t I just be normal like everyone else?”

Eventually, I grew tired of being exhausted and angry, but I did not know how to live differently. Once more I tried conforming to the dominant culture’s

definition of normal and found myself naked at Jesus’ feet. This time, instead of stewing in my shame, I removed the cloak and raised my gaze. To my surprise there was not a disgusted God looking back at me. Jesus lifted me to my feet and met my gaze. He whispered, “Enough, Mine, Beloved, beautiful child.” I attempted to turn and run because when the entire world tells you that you are worthless, it is difficult to accept perfect, unconditional love. I could not run though, because I was empty and exhausted. Instead, I surrendered my ideas of normal and perfection to a God who knows everything about my suffering. I took His hand and asked Him to teach me a new way of living. So, He did.

He showed me all the ways in which my creatureliness reflected God’s image.

Most importantly, He reminded me that my need for rest is one of the holiest things about me. Genesis reveals a God who rested after creating the universe and all its creatures. Jesus walked with me and shared His stories of retreating from crowds and friends to be still prior to acting. He walked me all the way to my bed, tucked me in as my own parents had done many times in childhood, and told me to rest.

The first time I honored my body’s need for rest, I had the most healing dream. I envisioned myself as a restless, weary, and broken child. I was wandering until I came across two large wounded hands. They were clasped but as I walked up to them, they opened like a clam shell. I stepped into them and laid down. The hands enveloped me and through the cracks, I saw myself resting and at peace. Upon waking from this dream, I was struck by two thoughts.

The first being that the risen Christ, the One who is hope and calls us to authenticity, is a wounded, disabled God. Second, there is value in a spirituality of rest. Disabled bodies can teach all bodies a great deal about the spirituality of rest and its benefits.

Rest is the space and time in which I most encounter the Divine. Saint Ignatius encourages rest in the form of sleeping and affirms it as the place where deep

Double Burden Rest is a privilege. There is a “double burden” for individuals who are both disabled and members of a minoritized racial or ethnic group. Double burden is the notion that there are compounded challenges and experiences of oppression for individuals whose identities intersect disability and race. Those who are privileged by being able bodied, white, or both able bodied and white, can more easily afford and practice a spirituality of rest than their BIPOC counterparts.

A 22.2%

E 27.8%

A B C D E

African Americans Hispanics/Latinx Whites Asian Americans Prefer Not to Answer 1

B 17.8%

D 14.5% C 17.6% 1 2

As demonstrated in the graph , disability constitutes the largest underserved group in America (1 in 5 individuals) and intersects with all historically disadvantaged and underrepresented racial and 2 ethnic groups.

According to the 2010 census.

Blick R.N., Franklin M.D., Ellsworth D.W., Havercamp S.M., Kornblau B.L. (2015). The Double Burden: Health Disparities Among People of Color Living with Disabilities. Ohio Disability and Health Program.

prayer takes place in our dreams. I find truth in this as most of my discernment and healing from internalized ableism happens in my dreams. When I rest, I begin to knit back together the interconnectedness of my mind, body, and spirit, which our patriarchal and capitalist society has worked tirelessly to separate. In this time, I grow in love with my disabled body. I nestle into all the corners of her that I tried to abandon and denigrate and realize that amidst my efforts she continues to serve me. She is my home. By resting, I foster a relationship of mutuality that honors her just as she honors me through her resilient pursuit of life each day. Rest helps me to be less critical of her. Rest allows me the time to sit in awe of all creation. It is the time when I am able to be still and observe. I see the interconnectedness of all creation and am overwhelmed by our dependency on one another and our radical dependency on God. I get to bear witness to all of our brokenness, triumphs, and joys.

In recent years, I have learned that we do not have to rest alone. When I first began my spirituality of rest, I always

rested alone in dark rooms. I have come to realize that just like any spiritual practice, it can have a communal component. My practice of rest as of late has included my friends and family. I delight in participating in rest that renews our spirits, like the times when we find space to delight in one another on a walk or over a cup of tea. It is in these moments of communal rest, where we slow down together, that we realize our hopes and desires. It leaves room for encounter and makes us better able to move gracefully throughout the world.

My deepest prayer for each of us is that we may embody a spirituality of rest, especially when being constantly confronted by a world that feels unsafe and demands too much of us. May our rest be healing and help us to joyfully embrace authenticity in all its forms.

Sarah Pericich-Lopez is currently pursuing a Master of Divinity at Loyola Chicago University and is a graduate school intern at IPJC, managing social media accounts and co-facilitating the Youth Action Team Internship.

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Shabbat and the Suspension of Purpose

BY RABBI JAY ROSENBAUM

Adapted from the original publishing in The Jerusalem Report (February 2021)

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any years ago, I was part of a pre-shabbat meditation group in my synagogue in Worcester, Massachusetts. Midway through our session, a child outside began to whine in a very loud and irritating voice. Aware that the distraction might be distressing us, our teacher said, “Think of it as just sound.” She was letting us know that it wasn’t the pure sensation that was causing us distress; it was the meaning we attached to it: “Why is this annoying child whining and interfering with our pre-shabbat peace? Why aren’t his parents disciplining him?” Our teacher’s thinking was that if we could detach ourselves from these meanings, or assign a different, more compassionate meaning to the sound, our anger might be lessened.

A central goal of shabbat is to detach ourselves temporarily from the meanings we have assembled during the week and train ourselves to hear “pure sound.” The core prohibition of shabbat is ’melechet machshevet’ (work), which has an intentional goal, because God created intentionally for the six days. The Rabbis tell us that before God created our world, God entertained many possibilities but rejected them. Finally, God created light and saw “that it was good (ki tov).” The words “ki tov” are God’s way of saying, “This is what I intended. I’m sticking with this one.” Intention, purpose, and commitment are all wrapped up in these two words.

Being created in God’s image means that we are capable of intentional acts. We are free to choose among possibilities, and to choose is to commit to a path, a purpose. This movement from possibility to purpose is reflected in the weekday shacharit service. During the first blessing before the Shema, we proclaim: Ma rabu ma’asecha Adonai, kulam b’chochma asita.

How magnificent are your works, O Lord, in wisdom you have made them all.

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This verse is a quotation from Psalm 104, where the poet marvels at the stunning beauty and variety of God’s created world, from the young lions that roar for their prey to the power of the sea that contains numberless creatures. When we admire the world in this way, we are in attention mode. Our stance is one of appreciation and wonder. We are not judging at this moment. We are simply taking it all in.

As we move toward the Shema, we move from non-directed attention to intention and focus. The words for directed attention in rabbinic literature are “kavannat halev.” The verb l’chaven in Hebrew means “to aim.” So, we can translate kavannat halev as “directed consciousness.”

It is no accident that this moment of supreme focus is preceded by the language of love. Just before we recite the Shema, we say: Baruch ata Adonai, ha-bocher b’amo Yisrael b’ahava.

Blessed are You, God, who chooses His people Israel with love.

Love is always an act of choice, a focusing, a narrowing of the field; it is an act of judgment. When God sought a love partner for Adam, God first brought him all of the animals of the field. But what began with possibility culminates in a judgment. When Adam sees Eve for the first time, he proclaims, “Zot ha’paam! I choose her!” And the choice of love implies a profound commitment.

In the same spirit, just before we say the Shema, we are reminded that God has chosen us. A moment later, we choose God. In making that choice, we commit to loving God “with all our heart, with all our soul, and with all our might.” Love begins with possibility and culminates in commitment. We think of love as an opening of the heart, but it is also a closing of the heart, a final answer, a focusing of our emotion on one person, or One God. Thus, from the unbounded possibility of “ma rabu/how varied are Your works, O Lord,’ we move to the focused energy of the Shema.

Just before we recite the Shema, we recite these words: V’yached et levaveinu l’ahava u’l’yirah et sh’mecha...

Unify our hearts to love and revere your name…

Va’havienu l’shalom mei’arbah kafot ha’aretz.

Gather us in peace from the four corners of the earth.

As we recite these words, we physically enact our focused mindset by gathering the tzitzit (fringes of the four corners of our tallit) and bringing them together in one hand. The nature

Photo © Svetlana B., Unsplash

Photo © Zou Meng, Unsplash

of commitment is that all of our energy is concentrated on a single point, a single cause, a single person. That’s what gives commitment to a relationship such great power.

It is not chance that this is precisely the moment during which we commit ourselves to One God: Shema Yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu Adonai Echad.

Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One.

The weekday prayer service is an imagination game we play in which we visualize ourselves making the journey from a variety of choices to a commitment, to a powerful purpose. That commitment requires that the totality of us be present. And so, we recite: V’ahavta et Adonai Elohecha b’chol levavcha, u’vchol nafshecha, u’v’chol m’odecha.

Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might.

God is One because we aspire to be one. We aspire to live lives of coherent purpose, and for that we need kavanat halev (directed consciousness). Purpose gives our life energy, coherence, and vitality. But the concentration of energy we need to develop a sense of purpose requires us to narrow our angle of vision. In the process of this focusing, we can miss important things.

The danger of such tunnel vision is illustrated by the story of the Tower of Babel. In this story, the builders build in only one direction: vertically. It is in the nature of great builders to produce structures that are tall and narrow. The physical narrowness of skyscrapers is a tangible expression of the focused mindset required by human ambition to achieve a great purpose. Such an undertaking often requires human beings to be regarded as mere

pawns to be sacrificed all too readily in the march toward some glorious goal. Bereshit Rabbah tells us that when a brick fell from the tower, there would be great weeping. But when a person fell to his death from the tower, no one paid any attention.

The problem with a life that is too heavy in purpose is that we can begin to look at other people instrumentally. But we are more than instruments for someone else’s purpose, and so is everything around us. A life of purpose is a richer life than a life which is unfocused, random, and incoherent. But we can get the meaning wrong. In moving from possibility to purpose, we may limit our vision too much. So, we need to regularly re-introduce possibility into our consciousness. In order to correct for the imbalances of a meaning-making, purposeful life, we need a day that radically shifts our mindset in the opposite direction. That day is shabbat.

On shabbat, we temporarily suspend judgement and intention. We let go of purpose and meaning. Instead, we cultivate a state of mind of acceptance, openness, and non-directed attention. The Torah says: Six days you shall work and do all of your work. The rabbis ask: “Is it possible for a person to complete all of his work in six days? After all, there is always a new challenge, a new goal to achieve.”

“Rather, say the Rabbis, “On shabbat, a person should imagine that he has actually completed all of his work.” (Mechilta de’Rabbi Yishmael, 20:9)

Six days a week, we judge the world and ourselves and find them wanting. But, one day of the week, shabbat, we take a break from improving ourselves and everyone around us. We cast all judgment aside and engage in an act of radical acceptance. We are to imagine that the world is perfect as it is. On this day we suspend all criticism of our loved ones, the world, and ourselves.

Shabbat is a day to say to our husbands and wives, our children, our neighbors, and ourselves, in the immortal words of Fred Rogers, “I love you just the way you are.”

The heart is a muscle. It expands and contracts. There is a time for gathering and a time for opening. The rhythm of shabbat and weekday mimics the beating of the human heart. The weekdays are a time for ingathering, for concentrated energy, for determined, intentional action, for building. Shabbat is for attention, an opening of the mind and the heart. It is a time to stop building the tower and notice the people who are building it.

Rabbi Jay Rosenbaum is Rabbi Emeritus of Herzl-Ner Tamid Conservative Congregation. With over thirty-six years of rabbinical experience, he has created programs that both engage and educate.

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Fighting Sleep-deprivation Culture as a Catholic Woman

BY DR. CARLEARA WEISS, Ph.D., MSH, RN

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” ( M A T T H E W 11:28-30)

H

ow many of us have read or heard this before? Jesus sends us a clear message that we will find rest in Him. For some, this may refer to eternal life and forever rest in Christ. But, while living on “this side of heaven,” shall we ever rest?

The Lord rested on the seventh day because His work was done, and He took time to contemplate creation. As His children, we should rest, too. However, we live in a 24/7 society built on scarcity and on-demand services. Everything from hospitals to airports to fast food chains is operational nonstop. Work emails arrive at 2:00am with an answer needed by 7:00am. Overnight delivery is available for medication or that cute calendar you bought online. Our workdays are longer, and vacation and paid time off are shorter, if existent. We are lucky to have a job, even if that means no breaks and no time to rest.

As a Black Latina woman, I inherited the non-resting culture from a young age. Our low-income family depended on my single mom working two jobs. I cannot recall if my mother ever took a sick or personal day to rest, even if she was ill. As a teacher, she used the school vacation to work double hours at her side-job as a hairdresser. The extra money she earned kept me 12

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in a private school and led me to college. Working through sickness, headaches, and heartbreaks with no time for rest was the modus operandi in our house. We wore exhaustion as a badge of accomplishment. We accepted fatigue as the pathway to a better life. Despite observing my family history of cardiovascular disorders associated with poor sleep and being a sleep scientist and clinician, I had to reconcile myself to the belief that we will rest when we die. I reminded myself that my worth is not measured by exhaustion but by attending Jesus’ call through my work, family, and community, which can only be accomplished with a well-rested body.

The system is hard to resist because working 24-hour shifts, nights, and weekends helped me afford the life I have now.

Getting caught up in the non-resting cycle is easy, and skipping sleep is the first expense we pay to afford a living. Still, sleep-deprivation culture contributes to increased health disparities among racially minoritized and low-income communities.

As a society, we learn that work edifies us, builds character and wealth, and provides our families with the life they deserve.

We are keenly aware that work is necessary to make money and pay bills. Thus, I worked two jobs as a full-time college student and did 24-hour shifts as a clinician while getting my master’s degree. I remember collapsing on top of my books on Sundays, my only day off. I remember spending more time sleeping than enjoying my first vacation after three years. I also remember how I got sick after completing a series of sleep studies that secured me the best research award and grant funding—and the amount of praise I received for working hard “no matter what.”

But unfortunately, being praised for sleep deprivation is unhealthy and can trap all of us.

Our exhaustion gets rewarded, but that should not be the norm. Our society emphasizes Martha cooking and cleaning non-stop, rather than Mary sitting at Jesus’ feet, savoring His

presence and wisdom. Women endure the journey of raising children, working inside and outside the house with little to no sleep, and being the family caregiver with no time for themselves. It’s a selfless work of love, but it also makes our women physically and mentally sick. A tired mom is praised as a good mom, while it should be a call to rethink maternity leave, worklife balance, and community arrangements. Those issues concern racial and ethical minorities, as structural racism labels our attempt to rest as laziness.

Sleep is the cornerstone of health, designed to allow physical and mental recovery. Adults need seven to nine hours of sleep per night to achieve optimal restoration. Despite the common belief that our body is put “on hold” during sleep, our physio1 2 3 logical functions , metabolism , and hormones , perform intense work to keep us healthy. Similarly, our brain is highly active in 3 promoting learning and memory consolidation as we sleep . In addition, recent research shows sleep’s vital role in emotions and psychiatric disorders, such as depression and post-traumatic stress disorder. Lastly, short sleep duration (fewer than six hours) among 50 and 60-year-old persons has been associated with an increased risk of Alzheimer’s disease.

Despite the critical role of sleep in our well-being, one in three adults in America is sleep deprived. The consequences of suboptimal sleep can range from a higher risk of type-2 diabetes, dementia, obesity, and cancer to work-related injuries and car accidents. Sleep is vital, but it is also a privilege. The dramatic effects of sleep deprivation are worse among racial and ethnic minorities and low-income communities. Multiple studies demonstrate that African Americans and Latinos sleep 1

Photo © sixteen-miles-out, Unsplash

Tahmasian, M., Samea, F., Khazaie, H. et al. The interrelation of sleep and mental and physical health is anchored in grey-matter neuroanatomy and under genetic control. Commun Biol 3, 171 (2020). https://doi.org/10.1038/s42003-020-0892-6 2 Leproult, R. & Van Cauter, E. Role of sleep and sleep loss in hormonal release and metabolism. Endocr. Dev. 17, 11–21 (2010).

3 Tononi, G. & Cirelli, C. Sleep function and synaptic homeostasis. Sleep. Med. Rev. 10, 49–62 (2006)

approximately six hours per night, compared to seven to eight hours among white folks. Racial minorities and low-income communities bear an additional sleep burden, including housing insecurity, poor environmental conditions (electricity, heat, humidity), and violence.

Additionally, women are more likely to suffer from sleep deprivation and insomnia. In my research, geriatric and oncology patients experience worse sleep quality and poorer health consequences, especially those with low income or diverse backgrounds. My work focuses on promoting sleep to attain healthy aging. On multiple occasions, I witnessed less than ideal sleeping conditions: no insulation, heat, or ventilation; a sofa or chair that becomes bed at night; and sleeping five hours or less to work more.

What can we do as individuals to change our sleep-deprivation culture? First, we must follow Jesus’ example to rebuild ourselves. He gives us life abundantly, so scarcity cannot prevail. Honoring the natural process of sleep, and offering up a time to God, trusts His ability to provide us rest. Some small behavioral changes such as setting a bedtime routine, making time for prayer and meditation, avoiding electronic devices at least one hour before bedtime, and waking up at the same time every day are some of the suggestions I provide as a sleep scientist. As concerned members of society, we should advocate for work conditions that protect sleep and rest and fight structural racism and misogyny.

Ultimately, fighting the sleep-deprivation culture is a Catholic issue. “Behold, He who guards Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep” (Psalm 122). The Lord watches over us, so we can rest and honor our bodies as the temples of the Holy Spirit they are.

Dr. Carleara Weiss, Ph.D., MSH, RN, has over fifteen years of experience as an adult-geriatric nurse specialist. She holds a Master in Science of Health Care and a Ph.D. in Nursing, focusing on behavioral sleep medicine and circadian rhythms.

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Reflection Process

“Rest is anything that connects your body and mind.”

–THE NAP MINISTRY

Drawing from what each of the authors offered, below are questions for reflection to draw each of us deeper into considering the reality of rest in our lives and how we might more readily make space for rest. We can each consider our practices, but unless we reflect on their implications at the communal and systemic level, a culture of rest will never take hold.

Individual

Communal

nnWhat practices of rest are most

nnWhat can we learn from various

nnAmidst the contraction and expansion of life, how can you discover God in the sacred space of rest?

nnWhat images of God do we encounter, preach, or promote that might need reconsidering due to how they promote a culture of needless suffering or glorification of exhaustion?

life-giving for you? Could cooking or something drawn from your cultural practices offer refuge?

nnDo you benefit from able-bodied

privilege? How does that impact the way you move through the world, how you interact with others, and what biases you might carry?

nnHow can you build rest more

intentionally into your life, modeling it after the sacred rest of shabbat?

nnAre you getting enough sleep? How can you prioritize sleep given your schedule and lifestyle?

cultural practices and wisdom, and the models they offer for resting?

nnHow do we build, embrace, and encourage a culture of rest? In our communities of worship?

Workplaces? Homes?

nnDo the physical spaces we occupy

welcome folks regardless of ability?

What changes might be made to be more inclusive and welcoming?

nnHow are we making space for

people to name their needs, identify challenges, and offer support so people can rest when they need to?

nnWhat would a ritual of rest in our community look like?

nnHow can we help one another sleep better?

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Systemic nnHow can we challenge “grind culture” and glorification of exhaustion?

nnHow does our theology need to

embrace the space of rest more deeply, drawing from the modeling of rest in our universe?

nnWhat are the policies and laws that prevent folks with disabilities from participating fully in society?

nnGiven the disparities in sleep,

what are the social structures that contribute to lack of access to sleep?

Forty hour work weeks? Lack of access to healthcare? Low wages?

Paid family leave?

SUMMER 2022

Spring Benefit 2022 This year’s Spring Benefit was a beautiful celebration. It was especially powerful and joyous as we witnessed the strength and love in our Women’s Justice Circle program as our keynote Jessica Molina shared, and through the awarding of our annual Thea Bowman Award to the Aberdeen Women’s Justice Circle.

Due to the generosity of you all, we were able to raise $106,000! Thank you to all that attended the event and gave generously. We look forward to hopefully gathering in person next year!

NWCRI 2022 Proxy SeasonWins!

During this proxy season a majority of shareholders supported proposals co-filed

by NWCRI members calling for a world where people and planet can thrive.

51% percent of shareholders requested an audited report applying the Net Zero Emissions by 2050 assumptions to the Company’s financial statements.

69% of investors supported a proposal to perform a third-party audit to improve the racial impacts of its business.

A 69% vote approved a proposal to conduct a Human Rights Impact Assessment with Sturm, Ruger & Co., Inc. to determine what changes to their business they will need to make in order to respect human rights, protect their stakeholders, and make our society safer.

Youth Action Team Internship

Human Rights in the Philippines

We finished up a great first year with our two Youth Action Team Interns, Mallika Bubb and Erin Monda. Erin and Mallika shared that one of their biggest learnings was about the power of storytelling. We are thankful for their trust and patience during our pilot year.

We are also excited to share that we have 21 applicants for next year’s group and look forward to growing the cohort and the work of the program dramatically!

IPJC continues to grow its work on advocating for human rights in the Philippines, and passage of the Philippine Human Rights Act. Over the last few months IPJC co-sponsored a national vigil for the recent elections in the Philippines and a local town hall with congressional representative Adam Smith. Our executive director gave a Pentecostal homily reflecting on our work on this issue, listen to the recording at: tinyurl.com/bdf77wzc Take action now by sending a letter to congress to pass the PHRA: tinyurl.com/bd7yc9u8

Upcoming Events Wholemakers - Young Adult Curriculum Pilot The Catholic Climate Covenant is piloting a groundbreaking young adult ministry focused resource on care for creation and integral ecology titled, Wholemakers.

Developed for young adults by young adults. This resource weaves together the latest climate science with insights from the Catholic tradition to equip young adults to be the faithful protagonists of transformation the world needs. The curriculum is sponsored by Catholic Climate Covenant and Maryknoll Fathers and Brothers, with contributions from the USCCB and IPJC. Learn more and apply for the pilot here

by July 31st: catholicclimatecovenant. org/wholemakers

Women’s Justice Circle Facilitators Gathering We are organizing our first gathering for former Justice Circles facilitators!

It will take place in late September in Tacoma, WA. Former facilitators along with a group of partners and potential facilitators will join us to strengthen our network and continue to find possibilities for partnership and organizing. Our Leadership Advisory Team is guiding the creation of this event, which will focus on the mental health of our community utilizing input from the community.

6th Annual Catholic Immigration Summit Seattle University, Campion Hall Saturday, August 27th 9am-4pm PDT The Catholic Community of Washington will gather for a day of reflection, education, and action related to migrant justice. Save the date for this upcoming event!

A M AT T E R O F S P I R IT

15

Intercommunity

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Intercommunity Peace & Justice Center 1216 NE 65th St Seattle, WA 98115-6724

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SPONSORING COMMUNITIES

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Give yourself permission to pray by doing nothing. Sit in your backyard and soak up the breeze and sun—and do not make lists or write in a journal or try to “do” prayer. Sometimes being still is one of the most difficult prayers we can do. But, oh, do we need it.

—VINITA HAMPTON WRIGHT

EDITORIAL BOARD

Gretchen Gundrum Vince Herberholt Kelly Hickman Tricia Hoyt Nick Mele Catherine Punsalan-Manlimos Will Rutt Editor: Will Rutt Copy Editors: Gretchen Gundrum, Elizabeth Bayardi Design: Sheila Edwards

A Matter of Spirit is a quarterly publication of the Intercommunity Peace & Justice Center, a 501(c)3 nonprofit organization, Federal Tax ID# 94-3083964.

All donations are tax-deductible within the guidelines of U.S. law. To make a matching corporate gift, a gift of stocks, bonds, or other securities please call (206) 223-1138. Printed on FSC® certified paper made from 30% postconsumer waste.

Cover photo © Aaaron Burd, Unsplash; Back cover photo © Jonathan Bean, Unsplash

ipjc@ipjc.org • ipjc.org

DONATIONS IN HONOR OF

Judy Byron, OP, Jessica Molina & Grays Harbor Women’s Justice Circle, Margaret & Dave Read DONATIONS IN MEMORY OF

George Burrows, Elaine Combs-Schilling, Doreen Rita Hune, AnnMarie Lustig, OP, E. Gael O’Reilly, Jan Parker, Peg Sullivan, Tim Sullivan, Sr. Mary Timothy, OP