A Gracious Sabbath

We just got our first "real" snow storm since we moved to Maryland.  Last year we got a few taps of maybe 4 or 5 inches, which caused the kids to miss a bunch of school, and me to realize that this area generally doesn't deal with snow quite like Western Pennsylvania.  Here snowstorms like the one that just dumped about 10 inches or so on Southern Maryland are rare enough that folks don't really plan for them, like you have to in colder climes.  But when they do happen, everything just shuts down.  Including Presidents day on Monday the kids have not seen the inside of a school in five days.  Shrove Tuesday Pancakes: cancelled, Ash Wednesday Service: cancelled.  We just had a discussion about having to get someone to plow the parking lot for the first time since 2009 (that's right, you can make it six years here without having to plow the lot).
The big slow down is kind of nice though, especially for us pastor types who are normally frantically trying to get a whole bunch of Lent stuff accomplished.  God has given us a break.  Do you ever think that perhaps there's something to the whole pattern of nature that's supposed to always keep us humble?  There's something about a good snowstorm that is a gentle reminder of our limitations.  Hurricanes and tornadoes and wildfires, may be a little less gentle reminders, but they should also give us a moment to reckon with our boundaries.
Boundaries are not always comfortable, but they are necessary.  Hebrew Scriptures build boundaries into the patterns of daily life, Sabbath, Jubilee, limits on how and how much one can acquire, rules that reigned in our own industrious thirst for more, they were probably some of the primary reasons why so many of God's people strayed off into idols, idols don't make limits, they want more every bit as much as we do, they're basically just our lust, greed, pride and maybe even malice, writ large and supernatural.
I am often struck by some of the things Jesus didn't do, as much as I am by the things he did.  He didn't press the advantage when he had the crowds (literally) eating out of his hand.  He didn't set up shop and build a temple or a synagogue of his own, he didn't start an Essene-like community where he could really train up some "good" followers.  He didn't defend himself against the eventual plot that led to his crucifixion, even though he knew it was coming, and had some resources at his disposal.
Limits create margins, and margins make ecological, social and spiritual sense.  If your life is booked solid, when do you connect with your kids or your spouse?  When do you pray?  If we are all about maximizing efficiency and productivity we reap to the edges of our fields and there is nothing left over to feed the widows and orphans (Bible stuff again).  Also, not leaving adequate hedgerows and natural vegetation along streams called riparian zones, leads to erosion which in the long run destroys the productive capacity of the soil and also degrades the water quality and even leads to large "dead zones" in the Chesapeake Bay, which messes with the blue crab fishery and means that a bushel sells for upwards of $200 and that's a crime (sorry, went on a bit a rant there).  It all starts with margins, or lack there of.
We have demonstrated that we can both intentionally and unintentionally effect the ecosystems of our planet, and a lot of the dire consequences are simply a result of our poor attention to margins.  But we also sin in this regard, we create a world where some have too much and others do not have enough.  I have read several articles lately that point out the rather plain mathematical reality that it would be cheaper to build free shelters for the homeless population and allow them to live there in warmth and safety than it is for us to just ignore them and leave them on the street.
But we don't do it, because, well, it's just not fair.
That logic is hard to get around with kids and adults alike, because "fairness" and justice are often not even living in the same neighborhood, and kindness appears to have taken a long vacation.
We are stuck in a dualistic nightmare of scarcity, where the idea of enough for all, even though it is, right now, a technological possibility, is something we're just not willing to engage, because some insist it's not fair, or it's a naive pipe dream.
But what it if it's not?
Yesterday afternoon and evening, after we had dug ourselves out of the driveway, we went to town for a few things, and burgers.  There was no one about, relatively speaking.  The normal hustle and bustle of this area had calmed; there was no traffic, no crowds, the roads were clear and dry.  Nature had imposed a limit and people had pulled back voluntarily, and I suspect for most fairly comfortably.  We had some shoveling to do, and a frozen pipe that luckily didn't burst, it hasn't been without a hassle or two, but there has also been blessing, and that's the thing about margins, they give you room to experience life.  They don't make it all sunshine and flowers, but they help us be better humans when we learn to live within them.