Some keep the Sabbath going to Church | Day 5
Some keep the Sabbath going to Church – I keep it, staying at Home – With a Bobolink* for a Chorister – And an Orchard, for a Dome – Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice – I, just wear my Wings – And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church, Our little Sexton – sings. God preaches, a noted Clergyman – And the sermon is never long, So instead of getting to Heaven, at last – I’m going, all along. - Emily Dickinson, Poem 236, 1864
When I say I read a lot of poetry during the pandemic, I specifically mean that I read a lot of Emily Dickinson. For almost 9 months, I read a poem before getting out of bed in the morning and again before I fell asleep that night. Emily was exactly what I needed during that time — her writing swings between elation and depression, between buoyant hope and existential doubt, and it gave me a place to anchor my own chaotic feelings.
The idea of nature as church isn’t all that radical now, but it was in 1860s Amherst. Emily was deeply doubtful of the religious rhetoric that surrounded her, especially the idea that holiness existed in institutions, prescribed practices, or hierarchy. Some of her poems are downright scathing.
Emily often writes about life is a kind of in between state — something that feels so present to us, but is really just a flash of perception between unknowable infinities. Sometimes that train of thought can get nihilistic and dark, but this poem is on the lighter side. Still, she’s not just saying that nature is heavenly. She’s also saying that nature — this moment — is all there is.
I don’t believe in any afterlife that would make sense to a human person. But I also don’t live like this is all there is. I spend a lot of time scrolling Instagram for someone who doesn’t believe in heaven.
Without a religious practice, I don’t have a “sabbath” to adopt. I’ve experimented with some rituals — I tried a weekly “no screens” day last fall, but I quit after realizing I can’t go anywhere without Google Maps. I really struggle with meditation, I think because I don’t like being still and alone at the same time. Especially during this time of year, when the weather is cloudy and wet and the flowers haven’t started to bloom, I struggle to connect with the “sermons” that are happening outside my screen.
Do you have any practices that feel like sabbath to you? What do your Bobolink Choristers look like?
With Wings,
Jess
*Some definitions for anyone not in 1860s New England:
Bobolink - a bird with a yellow capped head
Dome - the dome/ceiling of a church
Surplice - the loose white top that Christian clergy wear (I spent a lot of time in these as a choir kid)
Sexton - person who rings the church bell (in this case, the bobolink is the sexton)