Shabbat Shalom,
This week's Torah portion, Ki Tisa, includes a reminder that might seem almost out of place in the middle of so much action. In the midst of building the Mishkan (portable sanctuary), organizing a community, and carrying out sacred work, God pauses to command the Israelites about Shabbat. Even while engaged in meaningful and holy work, the people are told that they must stop and rest.
It's a powerful reminder that passion and purpose do not eliminate our need for pause. In fact, they make it even more necessary.
Last week was one of those weeks when it felt like many things were happening at once. We had our silent auction (which is still open through Sunday, by the way!), the Purim Carnival, and so much more—alongside other responsibilities I was navigating through professional development opportunities I've taken on. I was talking with Rabbi Heaps about it, and I found myself saying that I hardly even remembered the rush of everything because I had already moved on to the next things on my plate. That realization stayed with me. When we move from one moment to the next without stopping, we miss the opportunity to truly experience what is happening around us. We miss the chance to appreciate the celebrations, and we also miss the space to reflect on what we might want to do differently next time.
Shabbat teaches us that stopping is not simply about physical rest. It is also about mental and spiritual breathing room. It is the space where we allow ourselves to process, reflect, and simply be present.
Once a month, I participate in a Zoom program where the facilitator begins our time together by asking us to remove any distractions from in front of us—phones, notifications, anything that pulls our attention away. Then we close our eyes, take a few deep breaths, and are invited to treat the time together as holy, sacred time just for ourselves. It is surprisingly powerful, and honestly, it is one of the only times I intentionally pause in that way.
I'm reminded that Shabbat asks us to do something similar each week: to step away from the constant movement of our lives and give ourselves permission to breathe.
For me, that transition also happens when I arrive home. No matter what kind of day it has been, the shift from work mode to home mode begins the same way—Henry running into my arms and giving me a huge hug. In that moment, everything slows down. It's a reminder that presence matters more than productivity.
In Ki Tisa, the Israelites learn that even the sacred work of building something meaningful must pause for Shabbat. Perhaps the Torah is reminding us that rest is not a break from holiness—it is part of it.
As Shabbat approaches, may we give ourselves permission to pause, to breathe, to appreciate what has happened this week, and to enter the day of rest with open hearts and clear minds.
Shabbat Shalom,
Matt