Almost all the things I do which
help keep cat food in the bowls,
human food on the tables
and the homeowners’ association
generally happy with my existence
are things I do for fellow Red Sea Pedestrians.
One of the great benefits of doing so is
we get a lot of holidays. There’s one every week!
Not to mention the special ones, sometimes
eight days long, which come every month or so.
And we are not supposed to work on these
holy days. The consequences of
ignoring that protocol are, potentially
the last thing we’ll experience.
So when a co-worker, more than occasionally
sends me a work email, sometime between
the lighting of the candles on Friday, and the
appearance of three stars in the sky on Saturday
I fear for their very lives. Like a sensible Jew
I won’t answer until Monday. That’s what
our ancient text told me to do. It’s a gift,
really, this time off. This chance to know
the difference between the mundane
and the holy. This self-care, built in to our DNA,
mandating we just turn it off.
(without actually operating the switches.)
Let there be this separation.
Your very life depends on it.