We feel that everything needs to be done before we can be free, before we can rest and have peace and “get there,” wherever we are trying to get. We have to first complete our to-do list. Then we will have earned peace and maybe even redemption. But we are not there yet. And then tomorrow it turns out we have another to-do list and so it never ends. We never get there. We are never free. We are never really at peace.
The Israelites left Egypt with a basic task unfinished — their bread had not finished rising.
And yet, they did drop what they were doing — midstream, totally unfinished — to turn towards freedom. Freedom and peace and revelation and redemption — it turns out these are not things we have to wait to get until we are done. They come to us precisely when we turn away from the to-do list, allow something to not be completed, turn away towards the light of divine presence in the moment.
From Moshe, too, we learn about this ability to drop a task. Indeed, it is probably the reason he was chosen for the job. He was in the middle of watching sheep — surely a task that requires constant vigilance — when he noticed the strange sight of the burning bush and turned aside to look. It is this turning aside that led God to call to him. Ah, this is the one, one who knows how to stop midstream and be present to the miraculous.
Every Shabbat we get this opportunity, too. The Torah says that for 6 days of the week we should work and “you should do all of your work.” And after that you have Shabbat for God. But wait — how do I complete my work in six days? I am usually not at all done! How can the Torah command such a thing? The midrash answers that it doesn’t mean that one should actually finish the work, but rather that you should have a mindset as if it were completed. You come into Shabbat and that’s it. Whatever is done is done, and in your mind, there is absolutely nothing left undone. The bread may be only partly baked, but you are not worrying about it.
This is freedom. You are not worrying about whether the bread is finished baking. Your mind is suddenly free to be present, to behold the divine in the moment at hand. You can see the miraculous bush right there before you. Maybe it is you? Maybe it is your unknown ability to survive and thrive even in circumstances you thought would consume you, maybe it is your ability to live even when that essential task of bread baking is not completed, maybe it is the knowledge of a life force beyond your comprehension that you can only get a glimpse of when you let go of doing all the time, when you let go of having to finish, of having to accomplish, of having to control the situation, and allow yourself to follow God, to go with the flow into an unknown terrifying desert existence with only trust to hold on to, not even your usual bread.
I don’t know. We do need to bake bread and finish the job and do things in the world. But maybe we also need to cultivate inside ourselves the ability to let go of finishing sometimes, to let go of control, to let go of the sense that only our doing will bring us to the peace and freedom we desire. Maybe we need to stop and allow it to come. Maybe it will only come when we are able to not finish the job, when we know that it is ok to let that happen.
