I’m going to tell you a soppy story, so get your hankies ready – just in case. Having worked for ten years as a priest in Poland I arrived in Scotland fourteen years ago completely burned out and seriously considering my future in the job. It was no one’s fault; it was the result of a well-intentioned but unbalanced pastoral system. On top of a very heavy weekly workload, there was a very strong expectation to commit winter and summer school breaks to run retreats, summer camps, walking pilgrimages and so on. Effectively for the first ten years since my priestly ordination, I didn’t have time to rest: no day off, no holidays. It was a common and commendable attitude when it worked, but when wheels came off the broken priest would be replaced by another one while he had to deal with his breakdown on his own. A couple of factors made such a pastoral model seemingly feasible: there were a great number of priests available and consequently, though subconsciously, they were treated as dispensable goods; a misplaced belief that in the sacramental ordination priests lose their humanness and become invincible pastoral superheroes. Additionally, a sense of pastoral guilt was fed by a misinterpretation of the likes of today’s first reading ‘about the shepherds in charge of my people: You have let my flock be scattered and go wandering and have not taken care of them.’ Having arrived in Scotland I got my first placement and in the official letter of appointment, the then bishop of Aberdeen stipulated in clear terms that I ought to spend one day off each week outside the parish and take 4 weeks off each year. It was a very tactile modern application of Jesus’ instruction given to His disciples: ‘You must come away to some lonely place all by yourselves and rest for a while.’
My not-so-soppy story is just an example of a very common problem, experienced by many in an incomparably much harsher way than mine. People who work their socks off to provide for their families and yet still struggle to make ends meet. People who work long or inhumane hours for pennies at the expense of the quality time they should be devoting to their spouses and children. It is particularly scandalous to hear about people earning millions of pounds while their employees at the coalface are paid peanuts. It was outrageous when, during lockdown, private companies took taxpayers’ money to prop them up while the owners and shareholders were paid multimillion-pound dividends, bonuses or salaries. I strongly believe that people have the right to be rewarded financially for their talents, skills, business acumen and so on. I don’t have a problem with people who amass wealth and riches while they create jobs, invest in or develop their businesses. But when those riches are built on people’s misery and exploitation it’s deeply unethical and immoral. Of course, it’s not a new problem. The introduction of the mandatory sabbath day of rest by Moses was an attempt to rein in the exploitation of hired labourers. Some 3500 years later the problem remains as topical as ever… As a society, we must strive to build the kind of economy that offers equal opportunities for everyone willing to take their chances and use their talents and skills to better themselves, their families, local communities and society as a whole. Fair and just wages must be an indispensable part of such an economic environment. We can achieve that by various means of engagement; from voting in elections, through social movements, to direct political involvement if needs be. Politics might be often portrayed and perceived as dirty, corrupt or dishonest. But firstly, it has a real impact on our lives; secondly, we can make it cleaner, less corrupt and more honest when we either vote for people who display such qualities or enter ourselves into the world of politics.
However, it’s quite easy to lash out at rich people and condemn them for their perceived greed while many of them have reached their status through hard work and ethically sound means. An imbalanced work-rest ratio can quite often be of our own doing. There are many different reasons for that. Sometimes the life priorities are wrong; sometimes it’s a way to escape domestic challenges; sometimes it’s a way to prove something; sometimes it’s chasing dreams that might be commendable in their own rights but in the end, are not worth the price paid for them. This list can be quite extensive and broad-ranged, but the results are always very similar. Permanent exhaustion leads to a short temper, irritability and outbursts of anger; or to frustration and darker or volatile changes of mood. It results in a lack of time or willingness to engage with the spouse and/or children, so families imperceptibly drift and sometimes fall apart. Recently a prominent politician became the subject of much derision and mocking for his affair, but such outcomes are only the final act of a much longer process. It was a rhetorical question Jesus asked about such people: ‘What does it profit them if they gain the whole world, but lose or forfeit themselves?’ (Luke 9:25) We can be the worst architects of our own fall if we don’t pay attention…
How and what should we pay attention to? There are two answers to this question; the first one isn’t particularly pious but is very effective. We have to take care of ourselves and – most crucially – of proper and regular rest. It will benefit ourselves and – even more importantly – people around us. Less irritable, more self-controlled and patient, we will be able to deal with people and challenges in better, more effective ways and consequently built stronger and friendlier relationships. The second answer to the question on ‘how and what should we pay attention to’ comes from our faith and greatly supports the first one. Today’s gospel is a continuation of last Sunday’s when Jesus sent His disciples out. Now they are back, buzzing with excitement and feeling powerful; St Luke reported that they ‘returned with joy, saying, “Lord, in your name even the demons submit to us!’ (Luke 10:17) In such a state, it was easy for them to believe that they could carry on when ‘people […] from every town […] all hurried to […] a lonely place where the Apostles could be by themselves.’ It was counterintuitive when Jesus didn’t tell the Apostles to deal with the crowd but let them rest while ‘he set himself to teach them at some length.’ The lesson of this passage is that we ought to trust Jesus that He takes care of us when we are resting. In a wider sense, we must listen to and trust Jesus’s lead when we make decisions about our lives. Sometimes such decisions can be quite challenging, like changing the job for something more family-friendly. Or moving over to Scotland in order to be reignited by the Holy Spirit and raised from the ashes.
Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay