If you are reading this column, you may not need it.

Most subscribers won’t have time to open the paper, much less read anything in it because they’ll be wearing themselves out trudging through shopping malls, mailing cards and packages, planning and attending parties, redecorating the house, baking cookies, and doing extra things at church. They go to bed exhausted at night and awake the next morning still exhausted.

Much of life is like that these days. The frenetic activity of the pre-Christmas season (I won’t call it Advent because the church season of Advent is intended as a time of quiet, expectant waiting, and that’s not what the weeks leading up to Christmas are for most of us) differs from the rest of the year in degree, but not in kind.

Time was when people at least slowed down on Sunday. It was a day to take a nap, walk in the woods, read for pleasure, go fishing, and be still with God. It was a day for doing nothing. The word sabbath comes from a Hebrew word meaning to stop or desist.

Nowadays, most retail establishments and restaurants are open on Sundays, especially in December. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, but it means that our culture no longer observes a single day for rest and refreshment. To observe a sabbath time, you must carve it out of a busy workweek and make it a priority. The world around you will not support you in that.

It’s important to stop and do nothing on a regular basis. Each day needs its breaks. Each week needs its day off. Each year needs its vacation at the beach. Each life needs a sabbatical.

When I was a small boy, my parents took my brother, my sister, and me for a week in Washington, D.C. My mother had planned the trip in detail. She filled every day with visits to museums, monuments, historic sites, and government buildings. This would not be a wasted vacation! Every day would be a learning experience!

Finally, my father had enough. “Betsy,” he said, “the children and I are going to a ballgame this afternoon. You can come with us if you like, but that’s where we’re going!” My mother had planned something else, but that afternoon we all went to Griffith Stadium where the old Washington Senators used to lose baseball games---and where we had a grand time. My father had the right idea. We needed a sabbath afternoon.

I learned that day that not every hour must be productive. It’s all right---in fact, it’s essential---to do nothing sometimes. Our batteries need recharging.

After I grew up, I forgot that lesson. It took me years to remember it and claim it again. For much of my adult life I was caught up in America’s utilitarian culture that says you are what you do and that if you’re doing nothing, you are nothing.

Discovering my limits finally brought me to my senses. I had been behaving as if my hard work, personality, intelligence, and skill could enable me to do anything. With practice, I might even leap tall buildings at a single bound.

After falling flat on my face several times, I decided to seek a better, more healthful way of living. Take sabbath time! Take it regularly!

I learned to say no to tasks I knew I didn’t do well. Other people usually stepped in and did them, often better than I would have done them, but even when they did them poorly, I didn’t rush in to fix things. Some tasks didn’t get done at all. Remarkably, the earth continued to rotate on its axis every 24 hours and life went on.

I began to work fewer hours and became rested, refreshed, and happy. I was mentally present with people in a way I hadn’t been for years. Everything, including the results of my work, was better.

So if you’re frazzled by the pre-Christmas hullabaloo, step back and ask yourself whether everything on your to-do list really must be done. Probably not. Try spending part of this month doing nothing. Make Christmas a truly holy season for you.

Richard H. Schmidt is a retired Episcopal priest, editor and author who lives in Fairhope. He can be reached at courier@gulfcoastnewspapers.com.