Using People or Using Money

What are some of your greatest fears, not things like spiders or thunderstorms, but things you worry about, things that cause anxiety?  If you are middle-aged, as I am, somewhere high on your list is losing your job.  In 2012, more than 3.5 million Americans ages of 45 to 64, an unprecedented 8.2%, were unemployed; 39% of them for a year or more.  Most struggle with the loss of income as well as a loss of dignity.  Their mental and physical health suffers.

Into this unhappy picture steps Jesus with a parable about a middle-aged account manager. His employer has uncovered intolerable wasteful behavior and the account manager is set to be fired.  He is told to present his records and then pack up and leave.  His inner worries ring true.  He knows his prospects are limited.  At his age physical labor is just too taxing.  He doesn’t want to beg or turn to government assistance,

What will the account manager do?  Well, it is Jesus’ story so Jesus will do with it what he often seems to do: he spins it in a startling, almost puzzling direction.  The account manager decides to approach the people who owe his employer money and cut their bills by as much as half.  This way, he reasons, they will welcome him into their homes once he is out of a job.  While there is little honest or noble about his actions, the employer praises it as a shrewd maneuver.  As I said, it is Jesus’ story so he can tell it any way he likes.

Through this parable Jesus reminds each of us we have a basic choice to make in life: either we can use people to make money or we can use money to bless people. 

Adam Smith laid out the foundational principles of a free market economy in his book, The Wealth of Nations.  In it he argues the individual person, motivated by self-interest and guided by moral behavior, is in the best position to make economic and financial decisions for himself or herself.  So, for example, the cost of milk moves based on supply and demand.  When the cost goes up, consumption goes down.  When consumption goes down supply increases, the cost drops, and people begin to buy more milk.  It is a beautiful system and one that is much more efficient than, say, a central agency such as a government setting the price of milk.

Today’s reading from the prophet Amos highlights the potential flaw in this system.  While we can count on people to be motivated by self-interest, can we depend on them to be moral?  Amos condemns the merchant class of his society accusing them of dishonest practices such as shorting the weight of what they sell (think of paying for a pound of grain, but only getting ¾ of a pound), cheating the money which also had to be weighed (today we have ‘hidden’ fees and charges), and selling substandard quality goods – wheat swept off the floor.

Like those people of old, we are still motivated by self-interest, but less and less regulated by moral behavior.  Our government cranks out more and more rules to police our economy, but can’t keep pace with what is happening and can’t find enough moral people to do the work of keeping things fair.  As a result, sometimes we get “gypped.”  A product or an exchange is not as good as advertised.  Sometimes we get the “shaft.”  Our car turns out to be a lemon.  And sometimes the entire economy collapses under the massive weight of widespread fraudulent behavior.

Jesus’ critique is as simple as this: we are using people to make money.  His solution: we should use our money to bless people.  But what exactly does this look like?

At its meeting last Monday, the Vestry needed to make several decisions about our kitchen renovation.  None has been discussed more than the purchase of a new stove.  If there is an option we have not considered I don’t know what it might be.  We got great advice by talking to a local distributer who helped us identify our needs and then connected us with a particular product.  The distributor will coordinate with the construction company to get the stove delivered and installed.  It will also be available should any issues arise.  An easy decision, right?  Well, no.  You see we can order the exact same stove on-line and save a couple thousand dollars.  We’ll have to find someone to get it into the building and hooked up to the gas line, but this should only cost a couple of hundred dollars.  The bottom line makes this an easy call, right?  Wait.

So much about our society has changed with the advent of big retailers and on-line shopping.  Hunting down the lowest price is at the click of a finger.  I can go to Wal-Mart and buy groceries and household goods at a savings of what it cost my parents years ago.  That is all well and good, except much of the money I spend there leaves our community.  Employees and suppliers earn a living, but the profit goes elsewhere.  Back in the day when local businesses where owned and operated by local people, the money we spent in their stores stayed in our community.  It benefited the owner in addition to his or her employees and suppliers.  Those business owners became civic leaders who generously supported institutions in our community – organizations like churches.  This layer of our society is shrinking and, while we can buy more products at a lower cost, we are impoverished by the process in ways we might not imagine.

The Vestry weighed all of this and decided to create a relationship with the local stove distributor.  We believe it is good for our community, beneficial to us in the long run, and in keeping with Jesus’ teaching to use our money to bless people. 

This decision has started me to think about the value of shopping locally.  The website Sustainable Connections has a top 10 list of reasons to buy from locally owned enterprises:

1.    You support yourself.  Local owners make purchases from other local businesses, thus strengthening the economic base of our community.

2.    Non-profit groups receive 250% more support from small businesses than large businesses.

3.    Local businesses make our community unique.  They make us some place, not just anyplace.

4.    Local businesses have a lower impact on the environment.

5.    The majority of people are employed by a small business.  Buying local creates jobs.

6.    You get better service. 

7.    You are making an investment in our community.  People who own or work in a local business are more invested in our community’s future and are less likely to move away.

8.    Local businesses require less infrastructure and are more efficient at using public services than big box stores.

9.    When you shop local you tend to buy what you want rather than what a national sales campaign wants you to buy.

10.    You encourage local prosperity by creating a climate favorable to resident entrepreneurs.

I don’t know if I will stop shopping at Wal-Mart or Lowe’s anytime soon, nor will I don a fake mustache and dark glasses when I do go there.  But I do want to be more mindful about the purchasing decisions I make.  Not only is a Baron burger superior to what is served at McDonalds, but so is the impact of the monetary exchange.  I don’t drink coffee, so I cannot comment of the quality of the product at a local shop verses Starbucks, but there is an economic impact to be sure.  And, at least as far as Jesus is concerned, there is a moral, ethical, and spiritual impact as well.  The bottom line of my Food Lion receipt might look better, but the quality of my community, which also has an impact on me, suffers. 

Jesus said, “Either you can use people to make money or you can use money to bless people.”

Eucharistic Liturgy for Sunday, September 11, 2016

(adapted from the hymn, God of grace and God of glory)

 

The Lord be with you.

And also with you.

Lift up your hearts.

We lift them to the Lord.

Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.

It is right to give him thanks and praise.

It is a right and good and joyful thing

  always and everywhere to give you thanks,

  O God of grace and God of glory,

       for you pour your power upon your people,

       and nourish your Church to a glorious bloom

               that guided by your wisdom and filled with your courage

               we are equipped for the facing of any hour.

Therefore we praise you,

  joining our voices with people of faith

  from all times and in all places,

  in a song of unending praise to your Name:

Holy, holy, holy Lord, God of power and might,

heaven and earth are full of your glory.

    Hosanna in the highest.

Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.

    Hosanna in the highest.

We are especially mindful this day

  that the hosts of evil surround us

  and how in the cause of a radical faith

  some seek to visit us with death and destruction.

       From the fears that long have bound us

       free our hearts to faith and praise

       and give us grace for the living of these days.

On the night before he was betrayed,

knowing he was surrounded by evil,

  Jesus faced the fear of the moment by taking bread,

  offering a blessing, breaking the bread,

  and giving it to his friends, saying,

       “Take, eat:

               This is my Body, which is given for you.

               Do this for the remembrance of me.”

After supper, he took a cup of wine,

  gave thanks, and said,

       “Drink this, all of you:

               This is my Blood of the new Covenant,

               which is shed for you

               and for many for the forgiveness of sins.

               Whenever you drink it,

               do this for the remembrance of me.”

As we remember his death, resurrection, and ascension

  we offer you these gifts of bread and wine.

Send you Holy Spirit upon them

  that they may be for us

  the Body and Blood of Christ our Lord.

Send forth your Holy Spirit on all the people of the earth.

  Cure our warring madness

       by bending our pride to your control.

  Shame our selfish, wanton ways,

       for we are rich in things, but poor in soul.

  Bless us with your help

       so that we will not miss your kingdom’s goal.

And send your Holy Spirit upon us,

  that we may be delivered from weak resignation

       to the evils we deplore.

  Let the gift of your salvation.

       be our glory evermore.

  Grant us wisdom, grant us courage

       to serve you whom we adore.

Accept our prayers and praises, Father,

through Jesus Christ our great High Priest,

  to whom, with you and the Holy Spirit,

  your Church gives honor, glory, and worship,

       from generation to generation.  Amen.

(after communion)

Let us pray.

God of grace and God of glory,
we give you thanks for nourishing us

       with the spiritual food of Jesus’ own Body and Blood;
and for being our companion on this,

       our fifteen year journey, from the pain and horror of 9/11.

We thank you for calming our fears,  

   awakening our hope, and guiding us along the way.

May we leave this meal and this moment

   refreshed and renewed for the road ahead,

       and ready always to be instruments

       of your justice, your mercy, and your love.

We ask these things in the Name of Jesus Christ our Lord.

To him, to you, and to the Holy Spirit,
be honor, glory, and praise, now and for ever. Amen.

 

 

 

The Cost

 

It never fails.  Start any kind of major renovation project – either at home or here at the church – and unexpected and expensive problems crop up.  In the midst of the construction of our Christian Education wing in the mid 1960’s, workers uncovered the need to replace or repair 23 floor joists under the Parish Hall.  In today’s dollars, this work added an additional $65,000 to a project already stretching our congregation’s financial resources. 

The single best leadership decision made by warden Tom Coxe was to organize a crew last summer to take down several feet of drywall in the kitchen in order to find out what was going on behind it.  While I don’t know if he had Jesus’ specific words in mind to estimate the cost of building a tower before you start construction, Tom certainly embraces the wisdom of it.  Once the drywall was down we discovered significant structural issues the Vestry refused to let go unaddressed.  What we hoped would be a $50,000 project, grew in scope to $170,000.  Expensive, yes, but at least we knew the cost going in.

In today’s gospel reading Jesus is not giving construction advice nor is he lecturing on methods of engaging war.  He uses two very common experiences, each requiring preparation and forethought, to convey something important about the Christian faith.  “Be aware from the outset following me is going to cost you.  Don’t jump into this only to be surprised.”

Perhaps he is looking right at James and John when he requires his followers to “hate” their families.  You will remember after teaching on the shores of Galilee Jesus calls these two brothers to follow him.  They drop their nets, leave their father Zebedee and his fishing enterprise, and follow.  Old Zeb could not have been too happy with their decision.  They don’t “hate” their father, but they do subjugate their allegiance and duty to him and in order to make Jesus their Lord.  This comes at a cost.  Jesus describes it as “picking up your own cross” in order to follow him.

By the time Luke sets out to write his gospel, the first generation of Jesus’ followers know there is a price to be paid.  Forsaking your family’s religious heritage carries with it now the potential for imprisonment or death.  It holds the possibility of being ostracized by the local community and shut off from economic opportunity.  These conditions still exist in some parts of our world today.

We here at St. Paul’s Church on Main Street in downtown Suffolk have it a bit easier in comparison.  Still, we ask a lot of you if you want to follow Jesus by being a part of our faith community: 

§ We ask you to wake up on Sunday morning and attend a service. 

§ We ask you to give your time; perhaps to teach, or to prepare food, or to sing, or to help on the Altar Guild, or to volunteer in the Food Pantry, or – worst of all – to serve on the Vestry. 

§ We ask you to contribute financially without offering the caveat Jesus will repay ten-fold for what you give him.  The money you give to our church is money you cannot use to purchase something you want or to save for the future. 

§ We ask you to support one another; praying for others when they are in need, attending special events in their lives, taking food when they are sick, and listening with an open heart to their cares and concerns. 

§ We ask you to lead a moral and exemplary life.  You cannot act one way when you are here and another when you are not.

§ We ask you to endure hypocritical behavior, to extend forgiveness, and to initiate the difficult process of reconciliation when you are in a broken relationship. 

§ We ask you to respect the dignity of every human being and will challenge your every prejudice and preconceived notion not befitting this high standard.

§ We ask you to ground your allegiance to one another in our common faith, not shared political opinions or rooting interest in college football.

§ We ask you to renounce your love for worldly things like material possessions, power, and a focus on youth and appearance.

Have I got your attention yet? 

The writer Annie Dillard once observed if we really listened to the words of scripture and the liturgy that fills this place every Sunday, and if we took seriously what they call us to do, than ushers wouldn’t hand out bulletins, they would pass out crash helmets.  If we took the words at face value Dillard says the pews would have safety belts rather than cushions.  I think she is on to something important.

We don’t do real service to Jesus or to the Christian faith when we minimize what it requires of us.  Jesus does not try to package his teachings in an attractive, persuasive offer.  He does not provide a catchy “five ways your life will be better if you follow me” polished list.  In today’s reading he talks only about the cost and demands his audience take it into consideration before signing on.

In some ways the call to the Christian faith is similar to the allure of climbing a lofty mountain.  From a distance we behold its majesty and its beauty and wonder if it can be scaled.  As we look at it a question within arises: am I up to the task?  Do I have what it takes to climb it?  Depending on the height, the cost and the risk of the undertaking can be enormous, but neither of these factors diminishes the value of the journey or the reward of summiting.

Jesus invites us to follow him, but first he insists we must count the cost.  Perhaps our journey with him will mirror his own.  He picked up his cross and was crucified on it.  Hopefully our journey with him will be far less hazardous.  This one thing he does promise: our journey with him will lead us to new life in this life and to a glorious resurrection like his own in the life to come.

...of Yourself Less

Billy Graham tells a story about a time early in his ministry when he arrived in a small town where he was scheduled to peach at an evening service.  Before heading to the church he wanted to put a letter in the mail, but had no idea how to find the post office.  He happened upon a boy and asked for directions, which the child provided with great clarity.  Then Graham said to him, “Why don’t you come by the Baptist Church tonight because I’m going to be telling everyone how to get to heaven.”  “Heaven,” smirked the boy, “How you gonna tell ‘em how to get to heaven when you don’t even know the way to the post office!”

Life does have a way of keeping us humble.

In today’s reading from the Gospel of Luke we encounter one of Jesus’ better known teachings: “When invited to a banquet, don’t sit at the place of honor lest you be asked to move down.  Rather, sit at the lowest place and receive honor from the host when you are asked to move up.”  I suspect even people who don’t know much of the bible know something about this teaching.  It is very clear and concrete.  It is easy to identify with the humiliation of a person asked to move aside.  It is thrilling to contemplate how it might feel to be asked to move forward.  It is possible to reduce this parable to little more than proper etiquette; simply a strategic maneuver to avoid humiliation and disgrace.

Jesus’ second teaching is not nearly as well known… or followed.  “When you give a meal, don’t invite friends or relatives or rich neighbors – the people who can reciprocate.  Instead, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.  You will be blessed because they cannot repay you.”

Paired together, these teachings challenge us to cultivate a certain disposition in life.  They call for selflessness and a focus on others.  They invite us not to consider a person based on what he or she can do for us, but rather to engage each person you meet wondering what you can do for them.  The single word the bible uses to name this disposition is humility.

The best definition of humility I know comes from C.S. Lewis’ classic work Mere Christianity.  He held, “Humility is not thinking less of yourself, it is thinking of yourself less.”  I like that.  It helps frame today’s teachings in a way that makes sense.  It means you are not to be focused solely on promoting yourself and thus naturally do not sit at the position of honor unless so invited.  It means you use what you have to serve those who have not.  Being humble means you invite the poor, the crippled, the blind, and the lame to your banquet.  Being humble does not mean when they say it is the best food they have ever eaten, you respond by saying, “Oh, please, I am a terrible cook.”

I suspect most people consider humility to be the opposite of arrogance, pride, boastfulness, insolence, and being self-absorbed.  We don’t care much for braggarts or for those who exaggerate their own importance.  In today’s “Notice Me” culture, we dinosaurs of a time long ago wish people had just a tad more modesty, which is a derivative of humility.

I also suspect some of us who are trying to cultivate humility equate it with being self-effacing.  We act as if Jesus’ wants us to minimize our contribution and to demean our gifts and good qualities.  We take it to mean we should shrug off every compliment and renounce every recognition that comes our way.

Humility is not thinking less of yourself.  It is thinking of yourself less in order to focus on something else.  But focus on what?  The bible answers this in two obvious ways.  First, focus on God.  Phillip Brooks once preached, “The true way to be humble is not to stoop until you are smaller than yourself, but to stand at your real height against some higher nature that will show you what the real smallness of your greatness is.”  Brooks suggests we are to be all we can be and do all we can do.  God created you to be you and it is up to you to be you to the best of your ability.  The servant with the one talent who buried it, then gave it back to his master was not humble.  He was rebuked for wasting his life.  Our faith calls us to stand at our real height and to measure ourselves against the greatness of God.

Lewis wrote in Mere Christianity, “As long as you are proud you cannot know God.  A proud man is always looking down on thing and people: and, of course, as long as you are looking down you cannot see something that is above you.”  Hopefully the mere act of coming to this place week in and week out, the observance of the ritual, being attentive to the reading of God’s word, saying the creeds and offering our prayers changes our perspective.  If you look up long enough never again will you be able to look down, only around.

Which leads to the second thing the bible teaches about humility: focus on others.  Gordon Hinkley said, “Being humble means recognizing that we are not on earth to see how important we can become, but to see how much difference we can make in the lives of others.”  Isn’t this what we admire most about the people in our lives… not so much what they have accomplished, but how they have served.  Sometimes the person possessing the most impressive résumé is the last person you want to hire, because he or she cares little for others.  

The last thing I want to say is humility is a lifelong work in progress.  It is not a threshold we achieve but a destination toward which we walk.  There is no better reminder of this than something I came across recently called The Prayer of an Anonymous Abbess:

Lord, thou knowest better than myself that I am growing older and will soon be old.  Keep me from becoming too talkative, and especially from the unfortunate habit of thinking that I must say something on every subject and at every opportunity.

Release me from the idea that I must straighten out other peoples’ affairs.  With my immense treasure of experience and wisdom, it seems a pity not to let everybody partake of it.  But thou knowest, Lord, that in the end I will need a few friends.

Keep me from the recital of endless details; give me wings to get to the point.

Grant me the patience to listen to the complaints of others; help me to endure them with charity.  But seal my lips on my own aches and pains -- they increase with the increasing years and my inclination to recount them is also increasing.

I will not ask thee for improved memory, only for a little more humility and less self-assurance when my own memory doesn’t agree with that of others.  Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be wrong.

Keep me reasonably gentle.  I do not have the ambition to become a saint -- it is so hard to live with some of them -- but a harsh old person is one of the devil’s masterpieces.

Make me sympathetic without being sentimental, helpful but not bossy.  Let me discover merits where I had not expected them, and talents in people whom I had not thought to possess any.  And, Lord, give me the grace to tell them so.

Amen.

Oneg Shabbat

Be silent.
Be still.
Alone.
Empty
before your God.
Say nothing.
Ask nothing.
Be silent.
Be still.
Let your God look upon you.
That is all.
God knows.
God understands.
God loves you
with an enormous love,
and only wants
to look upon you
with that love.
Quiet.
Still.
Be.

This poem, Let your God Love You by the English writer Edwina Gateley, is a beautiful reminder of why we are here; of why we set aside one day each week to come into God’s presence in the company of God’s people.  It reminds us how this day is an oneg shabbat – Hebrew for a “delightful Sabbath”.

The image of this glorious possibility comes to us from today’s reading from Isaiah: “If you call the Sabbath a delight…”  The “if” hints at conditions.  Isaiah’s prophetic message about the Sabbath contains plenty of “ifs”.  Each if points to something the people should be doing, but are not.  Some historical background will help us understand the passage a little better.

This reading comes from a time after the exiles have been freed from Babylon and returned to Jerusalem.  They have set themselves to rebuilding the walls of city under the leadership of Nehemiah and to rebuilding the Temple under the direction of Ezra.  The work is hard and rift with challenges.  Still, progress is being made.  It was a time of great pride and optimism.  There is something very satisfying about seeing the work of your hands produce something tangible, something necessary, and something significant on a daily basis. 

From the perspective of politics and economics things look good.  But prophets like Isaiah focus on the spiritual and in this realm, in his estimation, something is lacking.  By all outward appearances things are fine.  People are attentive to the Sabbath.  They fast.  They pray.  They follow the rules for a proper observance of the day.  What, then, is the problem?  What is Isaiah harping about?

Perhaps you will like this little piece called No Excuse Sunday (author unknown):

To make it possible for everyone to attend church next Sunday, we are going to have a special “No Excuse Sunday”.

Cots will be placed in the foyer for those who say, “Sunday is my only day to sleep in.”

There will be a special section with lounge chairs who feel our pews are too hard.

Eye drops will be available for those with tired eyes from watching T.V. late Saturday night.

We will have steel helmets for those who say “The roof would cave in if I ever came to church.”

Blankets will be furnished for those who think the church is too cold and fans for those who say it is too hot.

Score cards will be available for those who wish to list the hypocrites present.

Relatives and friends will be in attendance for those who can’t go to church and cook dinner, too.

We will distribute “Stamp Out Stewardship” buttons for those who feel the church is always asking for money.

One section will be devoted to trees and grass for those who like to seek God in nature.

Doctors and nurses will be in attendance for those who plan to be sick on Sunday.

The sanctuary will be decorated with both Christmas poinsettias and Easter lilies for those who never have seen the church without them.

We will provide hearing aids for those who can’t hear the preacher and cotton for those who say he is to loud.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I enjoy seeing the pews full as much as anyone, but being here and keeping an oneg shabbat are not one in the same.  The churches in Isaiah’s day were packed, but full does not necessarily mean following.

How far from following are the people of Isaiah’s day?  Listen to the prophet’s message contained in the verses just prior to today’s reading:

Why do we fast, but you do not see?

Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?

Look, you serve your own interest on your fast-day,

and oppress all your workers.

Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fight

and to strike with a wicked fist.

Such fasting as you do today

will not make your voice heard on high.

Will you call this a fast,

a day acceptable to the Lord?

The outward signs are all there, Isaiah says, but they ring hollow.  Each person is focused on self-alone.  In the prophet’s eyes they are not in right relationship with one another.  They quarrel and fight.  They are indifferent to the plight of the hungry and apathetic about those who are not being treated fairly by the system.  They don’t pay their workers what they are worth. 

Speaking for God, Isaiah holds up the prerequisite for an oneg shabbat:

Is not this the fast that I choose: 

to loose the bonds of injustice,

to undo the thongs of the yoke,

to let the oppressed go free,

and to break every yoke?

Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,

and bring the homeless poor into your house;

when you see the naked, to cover them,

and not to hide yourself from your own kin?

If you do this, if you carry oneg shabbat into every aspect of your life, then, says Isaiah, we as a people will be a light in the darkness; gloom will be replaced with the brightness of the mid-day sun.  Focus on one another, Isaiah says, and God will provide for us and make us strong.  Our walls and our Temple will be rebuilt and will stand for generations to come.

Given the words of Isaiah, today’s gospel reading has a parable-like quality to it.  Yes, Jesus sets aside the Sabbath to worship, but it never comes at the expense of human compassion.  The…

God loves you
with an enormous love,
and only wants
to look upon you
with that love...

is an invitation to embrace God’s love so that you can embody God’s love in your relationships with others. 

Jesus does this when he notices one of the most unnoticeable people in the community, a woman bent over and crippled.  He tells her she is set free from her ailment and lays his hands on her.  With this, eighteen years of suffering comes to an end.  The leader of the synagogue, a person who surely would have been at home worshipping with the people of Isaiah’s day, becomes indignant because Jesus healed a person on the Sabbath; something he considered to be “work”, which was forbidden on this day.  Jesus, through his words and deeds, demonstrates how compassion is an integral feature of the Sabbath, not a desecration of it.

Some Jewish synagogues in our day give the name Oneg Shabbat to their fellowship hour after the service.  It is a time to delight in the company of others.  There is an old story about Bernie, a weekly attender at synagogue who told anyone who would listen he did not believe in God.  One day a new, young rabbi came to the synagogue and engaged Bernie in a conversation about faith.  “I don’t believe in God,” Bernie told him.  “If you want to talk with a person who believes in God, go over there and talk to Herman.  He comes here every week to be with God.”  “Well,” the rabbi asked, “why do you come every week if you don’t believe in God?”  “I come,” Bernie said, “to be with my friend Herman.” 

While not exactly an exemplar of the faith, I think Isaiah and Jesus would applaud Bernie and lift up his example for others to consider.  Yes, God desires you to come here seeking the deep, healing, renewing experience Edwina Gateley describes in her poem Let your God Love You.  Surely the unnamed woman in today’s gospel reading experienced God’s incredible love first hand that day in the synagogue.  But Isaiah reminds us to look around as we approach God.  Who is here?  Who is with you?  Who is outside the door?  Whose lives have you touched this week?  Did your touch replicate the touch you seek to receive from God in this place, at this time?  Delight in this Sabbath day and live it throughout the week.