Pressing the pause button on our lives

Do you find yourself rushing from task to task, event to event, meeting to meeting? Who today is not super-charged, stressed-out, worn-out or burnt-out? Stress seems to be the mantra of our manic lives. Apparently 52% of people say stress keeps them up at night. And since October 7, I would guess 95 percent of Jews are on stress steroids.

Not only is ongoing stress bad for our health, but it also affects our relationships, our capacity to be effective and of course our wellbeing. Even when we are aware that we are running too fast or simply running on empty we find it hard to stop. We tell ourselves that we just don’t have time to get it all done or to take a break?

Well, God had time to take a break when He looked at the product of six days of exertion. Let’s rest, He said, and let’s call it Shabbat. He taught Moses and the Jewish people the same lesson at Mt. Sinai in the desert wilderness; a place of deep silence where time itself holds its breath.

On the festival of Shavuot we celebrate that life lesson. The Bible records that immediately before God uttered the Ten Commandments at Sinai there was thunder and lightning and a very loud shofar. However, the rabbis steeped in tradition of silent prayer and reflection couldn’t imagine that these weighty ten principles would be delivered in a storm of sound and fury.

So, they suggest that at the moment the Torah was given the world entered the heart of stillness itself: “The birds didn’t chirp, the angels stopped their song, the waves of the sea ceased their restless tides, and no one spoke.” If you want to encounter God or access the spiritual you need to discover the sounds of silence, uncover the textures of quietude.

In an age of information overload and a never-ending stream of messages, the need to stop and ponder is even more critical. Learning and wisdom lie in our ability to listen and think, to understand the nature and consequences of what we are receiving.

The Greek Jewish philosopher Philo suggested that what makes an animal kosher and a human cogent is their capacity to ruminate, to chew the cud, to think things through.

When I was younger, I would pack a huge number of ideas into a sermon or shiur and often deliver them at break-neck speed. Over the years and on the advice of older heads, I learnt how to slow down, to speak more simply and precisely and stick to just a few thoughts. I have also learnt about the potency of the pregnant pause. A pause that allows others to both reflect on what’s just been said and also to anticipate what’s yet to come. I have found the pause is just as important for me as it is for the listeners. It gets me to slow down and deepen what I am trying to transmit, what I am trying to birth.

Pausing is not only essential for good learning or education: it’s a useful life tool. When we take a pause in the midst of our busy-ness, we clear our minds and act more carefully and mindfully. We surface and see the faces of others and smell the roses. If only all those angry keyboard warriors would halt before hating!

Too often I leave that break far too late and speak impulsively or send off that mail too rashly. I have found taking a short walk or a power-pause (or nap) refreshes and clarifies. It’s been said “When you are in doubt, pause…when angry, pause… when tired, pause…when stressed, pause and when you pause, pray.” I welcome the opportunity to pray which the halacha nudges me towards.

The Mincha prayer which comes in the middle of the day was perceptively introduced by the rabbis for just that purpose. It makes you interrupt whatever you are doing and re-focus. The very word Mincha has as its root the concept of menucha (rest). Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav used to urge his followers to make “Shabbat moments” every day: Take a half hour or better an hour, to be alone, dead to the world and alive only to yourself.

The fabled 20^th century existential psychologist Rollo May extended the importance of a temporary interruption: ‘’Human freedom involves our capacity to pause between the stimulus and response and, in that pause, to choose the one response towards which we throw our weight. The capacity to create ourselves, based upon this freedom, is inseparable from self-awareness.”

In a time when presidents send out imprudent tweets, when leaders idly make nuclear threats when fine (and not so fine leaders) are incapable of a ceasefire, the potency of the pause is as poignant as it is urgent.

It's time to press the Pause Button. As writer Lori Deschene suggests: “Practise the pause. Pause before judging. Pause before assuming. Pause before accusing. Pause whenever you are about to react harshly.”

A pause in time can save a lot of pain and regret. So, let’s practise the great survival technique of the pause, maybe while humming the words of Simon and Garfunkel: “Slow down you move too fast. You’ve got to make the morning last.”