Sabbath Peace

"Have a good weekend" has taken on new meaning for me in the past two months. At the end of June, I terminated seven years at the parish where I had been the music minister and capped forty-six years of parish music ministry. (I announced this earth-shattering event a few columns ago. Pardon the repetition.)

I would occasionally have some free weekends when I wouldn't be at the organ console and not worrying about an errant cantor. But, those times were not very frequent.

Now, I have no Saturday or Sunday liturgical commitments. No funerals or weddings on Saturday. No evening Mass on Saturday, no morning Masses on Sunday. No evening prayers during Lent and Advent.

My work week ends on Friday and begins on Monday-like most of the world. I now have a weekend with the possibility of it being a good one-just like what was wished to me on Friday afternoon as I left the office. I'm still giddy . . . and I feel neither guilt nor separation anxiety. Just giddy.

What hit me strongly last Sunday morning was the lack of traffic on the streets and parkways where I normally travel during the week.

I wasn't obsessed with the traffic bearing down on me from behind or the traffic trying to attack me on my left and right sides. I calmly drove. The scene was tranquil. It oozed peace.

I wasn't so naive to think that the easy flow would last all day. Hardly. The suburban malls are at their peak of commerce on Sunday afternoons. There are places in Pittsburgh that the cars and RVs are bumper to bumper from noon to sundown. But, here in the prenoon hours, it was me and a few cars and a pickup truck ambling around. Blessed peace.

Folks were not going to or coming from work; only those in special services such as medical personnel, mall employees, and, of course, church musicians.

I relished this tranquillity so much that I extended it to the Sabbath peace, which the author of Genesis created with God rested on the seventh day. Then there is the Sabbath restrictions that the Mayflower Puritans generated to assure a Sabbath free from working.

Naturally, that approach corrupted quickly, and breaking the Sabbath became a type of mortal sin still felt today in some American cities and towns where alcohol cannot be served or purchased.

Demon rum is an enemy to the Sabbath according to the Calvinist reformers. Happily, that theological distortion is fading and its adherents are dwindling.

That aberration not withstanding, the atmosphere of quiet on the streets of Pittsburgh taught me that, yes, one can have a good weekend, a time for refreshment, a closeness with divine creativity. Peace. Shalom . . . the Sabbath kind.

You can reach Fred Moleck via email at fmoleck@earthlink.net