Friday and The Takes

Elusive Sabbath Rest, Jesus' Love, Help For Young Mothers, The Theobro, A TikTok, The Ugliness of Halloween, My Liturgical Snobbery, and a Bonus Read The Comments

I always make a big deal about Friday over here on this patch of internet like it’s time to relax after a lot of working days, but actually, Friday is one of the busiest days of my week, and often Saturday as well, and then Sunday is the longest of all the days of work, beginning around 4 and going on sometimes till 11:30 or midnight. It’s Monday and Wednesday when I catch a breath. That’s no reason, though, not to dig around and find some takes!

One

A dear friend who finds the long Sunday “rest” exhuasting asked me, recently, about the concept of Sabbath and I had nothing really to say. When do the people who work on Sunday take a “Sabbath.” I don’t like to put scare quotes around that word, but I think it is so far outside of my imagination that it’s like speaking some kind of foreign language.

There are two problems that I have with the way life is lived in places like America. The first problem is the electricity. Electricity gives the illusion that it is possible to work though the world sleeps. And, as I am discovering with age and disappointment, once it is possible to do something, human beings almost always find it necessary to do them. If you can turn on the lights, you must turn on the lights, however late at night it might be. If you can scroll through Twitter at 3 in the morning because you can’t sleep, you will, indeed sometimes you might find that you must, your phone appearing in your hand almost against your will.

So the problem with the Law of the Sabbath is that it is impossible to keep. Whatever there is to do, I must do it, even if I don’t really want to. I’d love to sit down and not work, but I can’t. It’s not just the Pharisee who fences the law, keeping it ironically, in a way that breaks it, it is every American looking for a moment’s rest.

The second problem with finding a manner of life consummate with something like the rest of the Sabbath in a place like America is that here, the highest good is autonomy and independence. The commandment of God not to work was made to people who were supposed to be his people all together, not just each on their own. So here we are, in the year of our Lord 2024, and a lot of worn-out Americans are trying to figure out how to rest in a Sabbath way each by themselves, as if it can be a personal decision. On their own, or in their small families they try to make decisions and alter the daily course of their lives to get the rest they know they need because God commanded them to. How strange. How could that possibly be done?

It can’t, really. For it’s not just any rest that the Lord commanded. It was the rest of trust, of dependence, of gratitude, of admitting frailty, illness, trouble, mortality. The ancient Israelite had to stop working for one day a week so that he and all the people could admit to God that they did not have the power to arrange their lives no matter how much they grasped after that power. This is a lesson we can each learn on our own, to one degree or another. But not really, because it is such a bleak and ruinous discovery, if that’s all you learn, you must certainly despair.

Whereas, when you go to church for the Sabbath rest, going to all the trouble to put your body, soul, and mind in one space facing the same direction as all the other people, what happens is that you discover that dependence and trust are not a howling wilderness, but the relational ordering of the cosmos. You don’t have to hold all of creation together by your efforts because Jesus is doing it already. You don’t have to heal yourself because Jesus is the Physician. You don’t have to order your ways because Jesus is the Light. You don’t have to love yourself because Jesus loves you.

The trouble is that all this knowledge only comes by crouching in a pew, honestly opening yourself up in worship and prayer to the God of the universe, and then making eye contact with all the people around you who are also trying to find the same peace and hope. You all wander forward to feast on the Bread and Wine and are mysteriously knit together, healed, sorted out. None of it is seen. Only God knows about it or can arrange it. It is so strange and difficult because it only happens according to his goodness and power.

Two

I keep meaning to take a picture but there is a wonderful church sign near me that, depending on how you say it, because it lacks punctuation, always cheers me up as I drive by. It says:

Jesus Really Really Loves You

Doug’s Fish Fry

I love it so much. Just thought I would share it with you because I’m that sort of generous person who couldn’t possibly keep something like that to myself.

Three

I guess there’s been a lot of fussing online because a man posted this on Twitter:

Which, admittedly, is pretty obtuse, and apparently the bad reaction he received caused him to delete his account. One might think that sort of thing, but one ought not to say it on the internet. But then I came across this response which I thought was interesting and useful:

So, back to this guy. Listen, most men are not prepared for the first postpartum period experience they have with their wives. They just don't get it. Ladies, I will tell you now that if you're going to be a first-time mom, your husband will more than likely disappoint you at the beginning. It is a very common situation to find yourself in, to the point that books are sold on "How Not to Hate Your Husband After Kids." Some of that sentiment is misandrist for sure, but some of it can be legitimate growing pains women are experiencing. Let me explain. An inexperienced father is not a bad man. I do not think they can understand what postpartum is for a woman for a multitude of reasons: they aren't women and our ancestral past did not involve men in the postpartum care of women. It's a breakdown in our society that puts the care of a postpartum woman directly in the hands of her husband. She should be cared for by OTHER WOMEN. But we don't have access to that today. What saddens me the most is that there are women whose husbands work long hours out of necessity and are incapacitated in a room with their baby, alone postpartum for 12-16 hours a day or more... A husband does not know the physical pain his wife is in. He can theorize it but will never experience it and, therefore, won't grasp it fully. He also has some distance from the baby by not carrying it himself. A newborn is a potato a man would kill enemies for, but again... to them, it's just a lovable potato. There's not much going on with a newborn outside of them wanting their mom. The postpartum phase is jarring for most men, and they haven't figured out how to confide in or talk to other men about it for tips or pointers. Hence, this guy posting something publicly that got him so thoroughly berated he deleted his account, which sucks. It sounds like he needs some genuine male mentorship and was expressing sincere frustration. This is why I think it is so common for couples to separate after the birth of a child. It can be a great insult for a woman to be at her most vulnerable and her husband just doesn't get it. It's frustrating for the woman in the situation because she's tired, hurting, and bleeding. She's too tired to think straight enough to tell her husband what she needs; most of the time, it's just sleep, food, and a shower. But she can't even say it. She's trapped in her body. That's the level of exhaustion we're talking about here. We need to give men more grace for their first child. Most men seem to get it by the second kid and are much more prepared. While a woman is becoming a mother for the first time, he is becoming a father for the first time. There is a learning curve. As for the sex thing, listen, men have 17-75x the testosterone women do. Testosterone is responsible for sexual impulsivity. The younger he is, the more he'll want it. So, don't be surprised if he's asking for some at an inopportune time. You can politely decline without ripping his head off. I don't think he was being inconsiderate moreso than being a young, horny new dad. Which, is kind of cute if you think about it, haha. He still has the hots for his wife even after she JUST had a baby. Inconvenient for her, but it can be perceived positively if you take another perspective. Bottomline: Men and women need more mentorship as new parents.

So many great points. I particularly love the reminder that “They” don’t get it. As in, men don’t get women and women don’t get men. But long speechifying about how we are all the same and all equal, which is so manifestly untrue, has confused us all. The fact of the matter is, men and women “get” each other in different and sundry ways that are a little bit mysterious. They are both, as the Bible so shockingly points out, “like” each other, and yet, by experience we know that they are not like each other.

I think this is a place where the local church ought to be an immense gift to young parents, but the problem is that it takes at least one generation to build a culture where older women can drop everything and be there for young women. I had the enormous blessing of a mother who put her whole life on hold and came to America for a minimum of six weeks with each of our babies. She muscled in and helped us all get our bearings, especially the bigger babies that were suddenly appalled to discover the presence of a new baby.

But it is possible to do this in a church community. The Maiden Mother Matriarch paradigm of Louise Perry has helped me think through my own relationships with women in my church, and my daughters. You have to think to yourself, am I the Matriarch here? Is there some young maiden or mother who is drowning in anxiety and exhaustion? On the flip side, I would love it if young mothers would let me come over and hold their babies and tell them what to do—within reason of course. What must absolutely be abandoned is the sense that you ought to be independent, or be able to pull yourself up by your own instapot.

Four

I’m halfway through this horrendously long thing in Mother Jones about the terrifying rise of the Theobro. If you weren’t aware that there is a culture war raging, this piece should lay that ignorance to rest. My goodness, it is as though Hitler is rising again from the grave to do us all in, at least according to the journalistic flailings of the writer, Kiera Butler, whose fluid prose would be gripping if it wasn’t so unmoored.

The line I like best so far: “Vance was embracing one of their most cherished beliefs: America should belong to Christians, and, more specifically, white ones.”

What’s so fun about it, of course, is that Mr. Vance is married to a woman of color. So, what Mlle. Butler is really saying is that if you’re not on her side, no matter what color you are, you don’t count. Anyway, as I said, I’m only halfway through, haven’t even gotten to the Doug Wilson part yet, and who knows how long it will take me? I have so many other things to do.

Five

I found this on Twitter and then managed to get it off of TikTok. Prepare to weep:

@ilikebirdspodcastThe church and community showed up for Ava during the hardest season of her life. 🤍🕊️ Yesterday ava connected a grieving mom with the quilt maker. Well done @Ava Trammell so proud of you. #Community #Church #churchfamily #grievingmom #christianmom #christiantiktok

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And then this:

@ilikebirdspodcastChoosing life: Ava’s unwavering decision to keep her baby safe in her womb. full story linked in bio 🎙️ @Ava Trammell 🙏 #mommaslove #christiantiktok #grief #childloss #chooselife #prolife

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Apparently it’s available on YouTube—going to dig around and see if I can find it in all my running around today and tomorrow.

Six

A clever person on Twitter observed how horrible Halloween is and I would just like to join my voice to that obvious point. It gets worse and worse. I cannot bear those fanged, demon babies that are hanging everywhere, and the huge blow-up creepy people. I know that there isn’t anything that any of us can do, except pray against the Devil, but when people try to scare me about the horrors of Christian Nationalism while I have to walk down the road past people so spiritually confused they think it might be fun to flirt with demons for an entire month, it does make me want to run screaming into the void. A lovely family I know is having to make up silly stories about the horrible, life-sized replica of Jason from Friday the Thirteenth for their four-year-old and two-year-old, trying to keep the tone light and not freak out those sweet babies. It’s nuts.

Seven

This is your annual reminder that everybody is spiritual and religious. The fun ghosties and goulies don’t need to be up for an entire six weeks but because they exist, and in greater and uglier proliferation every year, they will go up. And then on November 1st all the inflatble Santas will be lashed to the front porch. Gosh. I guess I will have to go bury my liturgical head in the sand.

Have a nice weekend! And there’s a short pod of comment reading just below. Enjoy!