Where have all the Sundays gone? They used to be slow. I could tell it was Sunday by the feel of the atmosphere – and as a child said, “boring!” Family lunch with a roast, followed by brisk walks in English drizzle, and long, lazy hours reading, punctuated by the crackle of toffee wrappers.
Then we got Sunday shopping. The kids were half out the door to part-time jobs, complaining they no longer had one day when they could count on friends being free. Church and formal lunch were long gone, replaced by lying-in and pajamas.
This morning, I caught a radio talk between a rabbi and a minister: when do we soothe the soul? And when do we take time out for gratitude. We keep being told how beneficial it is to be thankful, but we have tossed our day of rest out with the bath water and sunk into a sea of electronic fuzz.
After the kids left home. Bill and I used to celebrate “holy days.” The rules were simple: they must cost nothing and refresh the soul. So we would take a picnic by the lake or cross-country ski through a conservation area. They were special days, steeped in peace and rich in beauty. We returned with clear eyes and new resolve.
And I remembered that through the ages, society calibrated the year by holy days. Today, we have sales. We have replaced Good Friday with Black Friday. We may have gained a deal on shoes, but lost out on community and peace of mind.