Nostalgia for 9 to 5

Dear Friends,

I have had Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5” stuck in my head. Maybe that is an unusual place to begin a Shabbat message but pour yourself a cup of ambition and stay with me.

There was a time when “9 to 5” actually described the boundaries of a workday. You went to work. You came home. And, for the most part, work stayed at work.

Today’s workday is almost limitless. We can answer an email at 6:30 in the morning, take a call at dinner, and respond to a text before bed. We can work from the office, the kitchen table, the sidelines of a soccer game, and even on vacation (you know who you are). The efficiency of technology has made many things easier. It has also made it much harder to say: the workday is over.

Judaism figured out the importance of that boundary a very long time ago.

The Torah takes work seriously. It tells us to pay workers fairly and on time. It reminds us not to take advantage of those who work for us. And throughout Jewish tradition, earning a living and contributing to society are treated with dignity.

But Torah also recognizes that work cannot be allowed to consume us.

That is why we have Shabbat. One day every week, we stop.

What I find particularly meaningful is that the Torah doesn’t say Shabbat is only for those who can afford a day off. The commandment includes our families, our employees, the stranger living among us, and even our animals. Everyone gets to pause.

That idea has influenced a practice we have at Jewish Federation. From sundown Friday until sundown Saturday, we ask our team not to send work emails or make work calls. Not everyone on our team observes Shabbat in the same way. Some may be at synagogue. Some may be having dinner with family. Some may be watching a movie, going for a walk, or sleeping late Saturday morning.

That isn’t really the point. The point is that for those hours, our Jewish communal work should not be asking something from them. I think that matters.

We talk a lot about creating healthy workplaces and finding “work-life balance.” Judaism offers a much older and perhaps simpler version: every seven days, create a boundary.

I will admit that I am still working on this myself.

There is always one more email I could answer. There is always another problem that feels urgent. And when you care deeply about the work you do, it can be especially difficult to put it down and disconnect.

That is why I love the teaching from Pirkei Avot – you hear me use it all the time: “It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.” There is always more work. Our responsibility is to do our part, not to convince ourselves that everything depends upon us.

Labor Day also gives us an opportunity to say thank you to the people whose work makes our Jewish community possible.

The teachers who educate our children. The people who care for our seniors. The social workers helping families through difficult moments. The security professionals protecting our institutions. The maintenance teams preparing our buildings. Our rabbis, educators, nonprofit professionals, and volunteers.

And, personally, I am grateful for the extraordinary Federation team I get to work alongside every day.

Jewish life in St. Louis doesn’t happen automatically. People make it happen.

So perhaps there are two Jewish lessons worth remembering this Labor Day.

Take your work seriously. Treat the people who work with and for you with dignity.

And then, occasionally, stop working.

Maybe Dolly had the right idea after all. There ought to be a beginning and an end to the workday.

Judaism just takes the idea one step further. Every Friday night, whether the work is finished or not, Shabbat arrives and reminds us:

It can wait until tomorrow.

This Labor Day weekend, I hope we can appreciate the work we do, thank the people whose work makes our lives and our community possible, and give ourselves permission to put some of that work aside.

The emails will still be there after Shabbat. I promise. In the meantime, enjoy this 9-5 cover – it’s one of my favorites.