The Sabbath

I will never forget one blazing hot Sunday afternoon a long time ago, when I wanted a Coca-Cola and I wanted it bad, but Granny didn’t have any. So being the first rate pain I was, I determined to get her to drive down to the store a mile or so away to get me one.

She said: “No. It’s Sunday and other than church and family, we stay at home and rest, besides Coca-Cola just isn’t good for you.”

But I didn’t want to rest, and I didn’t care what was good for me. I wanted a Coke, and I wanted it bad. So I cajoled and whined and finally I threw a first rate seven year old fit, and to my amazement she gave in. She said: “Here’s a nickel, go buy yourself one.”

Different times back then, you know. A kid was safe enough on the streets, and a nickel was still worth a nickel.

So off I went proud as a peacock. I had won a battle against my Granny. It was a proud day for Tony Rowell; let me tell you the truth.

Let me tell you something else, after thirty minutes or so of walking in the midday Florida summer sun, I not only wanted, but I needed that Coke. I could taste it. I could feel that ice cold wonder working its way down my parched young throat. So with great anticipation and a quickened step, I turned the final corner on my journey only to discover that the store in which my treasure lay was closed on Sundays, along with everything else. I didn’t know any of the words back then, but Granny got an imaginary ear full nonetheless.

After what seemed like hours, I finally dragged myself back home only to find Granny waiting for me. In her right hand she had one of those old metal drinking glasses, sweating in the heat, filled with Southern wine (sweet iced tea); and on her face she held a nasty grin filled with satisfaction. Lesson delivered, never to be forgotten.

“Why don’t you go out on the front porch and take a nap, like the Lord tells you to.”

I joke about it, but in truth it was wonderful back then. Everybody closed on Sunday, because social convention demanded it, after all it was the Sabbath. We rested our bodies and filled our souls, because it was the thing to do. We went to church because Momma told us to and we rested, because there was nothing else to do.

A short 10 years later, when I was seventeen or so, most everything was closed on Sundays as well, but only because the blue laws of South Carolina demanded it. Bible belt, you know.

Well, ten years after that we ran those blue laws out of town, because we didn’t want the government interfering with our God given right to disobey our God. Oh, I can feel the hackles rising as I write this.

​Now everything is open on Sunday, because there is nothing special about Sunday anymore. It’s just like every other day. We run after sports and entertainment and anything else we want on Sunday just like I ran after that Coca-Cola all those years ago, only the store is open now. It’s the lesson that’s missing.
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The day of the Lord is now our day to do with as we wish.

We won! Good for us?
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I doubt it!

Tony Rowell