In the heart of my backyard, nestled between the grandeur of a towering maple and the vibrant hues of a blooming hydrangea, sits a gift Faye gave me for Christmas last year. It's a rocking camp chair called the Nemo Stargaze. It is simply the most comfortable chair in the world; something between a hammock and a camp chair. That chair is an invitation to rest, to slow down, to embrace the sweet lullaby of a summer's breeze. The chair, in all its humble simplicity, symbolizes for me the concept of a summer sabbath. Yet, while it whispers of restful solitude, it also reminds me of the value of community and worship, and therein lies the paradox of the Christian sabbath.

Summer, in all its glory, tempts us to eschew routine, to embrace a life less bound by the constant ticking of the clock. It invites us to cherish sunlit mornings and languid afternoons, to find joy in life's simple pleasures – a ripe watermelon, children's laughter echoing through the neighborhood, the soothing rhythm of the ocean waves. This is the spirit of the summer sabbath; a time to rest, renew and reconnect with the divine rhythm of life.

But, just as a tree needs both sunlight and water to thrive, our sabbath time requires a balance of solitude and communal worship. Picture, if you will, our summer sabbath as a garden, fertile and waiting to be filled. Private reflection and rest are the seeds we sow, but public worship, the gathering of our Christian community, is the rain that nourishes those seeds, encouraging them to sprout and flourish.

Public worship is not merely an obligation to check off our spiritual to-do list. It's a vital lifeline, a time for us to come together as a parish community, to learn, to share, to uplift one another. It's where we sing our praises, voice our doubts, share our joys, and carry each other's burdens. It's in these shared moments that our understanding of God's love deepens, and we find the strength to carry this love out into the world.

As the summer unfolds, think of the church not as a place of duty, but as a sanctuary in the midst of life's hustle and bustle. It's a place to refuel, to be reminded of God's grace, and to reignite our spiritual fervor. And just as we need the Sabbath for rest, we need the church for renewal and reconnection.

This summer, I implore you to weave worship into your summer sabbath tapestry. Let the hymns fill your soul, let the words of scripture inspire you, let the sense of community uplift you. As we gather together in worship, we not only deepen our own faith but also help to nurture the faith of those around us.

The Stargaze camp chair in my backyard is inviting, but so too are the doors of our church. As you find time to rest and rejuvenate this summer, remember the importance of communal worship. The sabbath is a dance of both solitude and togetherness, and it's in that balance that we truly begin to embody the rhythm of God's grace.

You and I were created to both enjoy rest and engage in worship. Don't allow the allure of the summer sabbath to overshadow the power and purpose of shared worship. Both are critical ingredients in the recipe for a nourished and fruitful spiritual life. So, this summer, rest in your hammock but also rejoice in your church. Embrace the joy of both the silent whisper of a summer breeze and the harmonious hymn of a worshiping community.

Rev. Mike Dangelo +