Year A: Lent 3 | The Fourth Commandment
St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church
March 8, 2026
the Rev. Jonathan Hanneman
To watch the full service, please visit this page (available for three weeks after the date of streaming).
During Lent, we generally open our services with what the Book of Common Prayer calls “A Penitential Order.” Instead of the standard short prayer before the Gloria, we instead respond to the Decalogue (more famously known as the Ten Commandments) and offer our collective Confession immediately after that rather than closer to the middle of the service.
The Ten Commandments hold an interesting place in American society. There’s a longstanding debate as to whether or not they should be posted in public buildings. Many argue that they’re a formal religious document and therefore ought not overly influence the secular organization that the Constitution lays out our government to be. Others claim they’re an early legal code foundational to Western Society and therefore do belong in legislative, judicial, and educational settings.
If we stuck to the last six Commandments—honor your father and mother, don’t murder, don’t commit adultery, don’t steal, don’t lie about your neighbor, and don’t covet your neighbor’s stuff—there’d be a lot less argument—some, definitely, but not nearly as much. It’s the first four that place the Commandments firmly into religious territory: don’t hold any gods ahead of the Provider, don’t craft idols, don’t slap God’s name on your cause, and observe the sabbath—because God says so.
And the truth is, those don’t belong in government buildings—not simply because of the religious association, but because, like the Tenth Commandment (the one about coveting), no one really follows them anyway. The Provider is not our nation’s god—that would be Liber, more famously known as Molech. Modern society is so ignorant of what a god even is that we can’t recognize our mass devotion to the idols whose altars we polish and refurbish each and every day. If you’ve listened to the news in the last 30 seconds or so, you’ve undoubtedly heard a significant public leader claim that God supports whatever their momentary obsession might be. And sabbath? That’s the most laughable one of all. Any notion of “sabbath” flew out the window with the blue laws.
No one, however, is particularly excited about posting the “Six-ish Commandments,” if only for the reason that it doesn’t have the same gravitas or balance as “Ten.” Or maybe being honest with ourselves about the first ones forces us to realize how little we care about the others—and that they can’t hold any significant authority without those foundational four.
I’ve been mulling the Fourth Commandment for quite a while—since Ash Wednesday 2025 or so, really. On that day we regularly consider Isaiah 58, which we also happened to encounter as our Hebrew Bible reading this past February 8, the 5th Sunday of Epiphany. That passage talks to us about fasting, about God’s disgust with the devotional act the way that we normally practice it. God truly hates how we fast. That’s because, for God, fasting isn’t about self-improvement or self-denial or displays of solidarity with the poor or even supposed “spiritual” growth. Fasting is about feeding, about reducing our consumption not simply for the sake of self or health or pocketbook or piety but so that we can offer the extra to those around us. Fasting is about reflecting and celebrating God’s Image as Provider—as the one who continually gives of themself so that all of Creation—all that is not God’s “self”—might continue to thrive. We don’t fast so that our austerity might somehow make us close to God; we fast so that we can, literally, become more like God—giving away everything we don’t need to consume so that others might live and, hopefully, thrive.
Isaiah 58 closes with a reference to sabbath—to rest—that we missed in our February reading. The prophet moves from fasting into sabbath without skipping a beat, which makes me think that the two are related in God’s mind—or at least should be in ours.
We take our primary instruction for sabbath, which is a variation on the Hebrew word for “rest”—from the Ten Commandments, where Exodus says, “Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work. But the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work—you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns. For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but rested the seventh day; therefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and consecrated it.”[1] Historically, the idea we as the Church have drawn from this is that God rested, so we humans need to rest, too. The standard interpretation basically says if you don’t rest, you must somehow think you’re better than God. You’re not, so you’re going to rest whether you want to or not. This is where our society got blue laws and traditions about not playing sports or opening restaurants or stores on Sundays and all of those other forgotten American cultural practices that fell out of use over the course of my childhood.
But if we look at the Bible passage Moses is referencing, we might find a slightly different emphasis. Genesis tells us, “God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day. Thus the heavens and the earth were finished and all their multitude. On the sixth day God finished the work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all the work that he had done. So God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it, because on it God rested from all the work that he had done in creation.”[2]
That doesn’t exactly sound like imposed, enforced stillness, does it—a formal shuttering of human life? God is taking joy in what they had made, and out of that joy and satisfaction, God chooses to rest. Frankly, the way it’s phrased in Hebrew, it sounds like God is giving special honor to the seventh day—what later became known as “the Sabbath.”[3] It’s almost like God is thanking it!
So God is celebrating and enjoying themself, wandering the earth exploring the mountains and ravines, playing with dolphins and petting chipmunks, tasting grapes and peaches and persimmons for the first time, yet we’re supposed to be dour and still and bored? We’re meant to rest, “or else”? Clearly, the idea must have been corrupted somewhere along the line.
And maybe that’s why the Bible records the Ten Commandments a second time. As the Hebrew people are finally about to enter the Promised Land after more than forty years of wandering a relatively small desert region, Moses reminds them of their covenant with the Provider. And maybe by that time he’s noticed a tendency for stern observance creeping into what is, frankly, a holiday. So when he reiterates the Fourth Commandment in Deuteronomy, he says, “Observe the Sabbath day and keep it holy, as the Lord your God commanded you. Six days you shall labor and do all your work. But the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work—you, or your son or your daughter, or your male or female slave, or your ox or your donkey, or any of your livestock, or the resident alien in your towns, SO THAT your male and female slave may rest as well as you. Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm; therefore the Lord your God commanded you to keep the Sabbath day.”[4]
Did you hear the difference there? It isn’t all that subtle! After more than four decades of watching the Hebrew people develop their sabbath practices, Moses noticed that they’ve forgotten the core meaning for their special day. Sabbath has become about the self, about what I’m allowed to do and about me ensuring that I get my chance to rest. But the “self” isn’t the point.[5] Why do we honor this day? “So that your male and female slave may rest as well as you.”
So Isaiah was connecting fasting and sabbath on purpose!
That’s because fasting and rest aren’t solely for my own good. Yes, they definitely have their benefits for the individual practicing them, but self-development and self-care aren’t actually the point of either. Just like I fast so that others may eat, I observe the Sabbath so that others may rest. My rest isn’t the purpose—it’s a byproduct of their ability to take a break. I celebrate and show gratitude for what God has given me by not placing demands on those around me!
That’s the true reason for the Sabbath: rest—for others. That’s why Jesus isn’t concerned about the apostles gathering a few handfuls of grain as they walk through a field on a sabbath or why he’s perfectly happy to heal people on those same holy days. Sabbath never should have been focused on the self! It isn’t just a day for me to lay low—it’s the opportunity I offer others to relax and celebrate. Maybe that’s why the author of Hebrews cautions us about entering into God’s rest: that rest is communal! As long as I continue to impose my wants and demands on those around me, sabbath cannot exist. And if sabbath doesn’t exist, then any concept of heaven—of settled rest—doesn’t exist. The Kingdom of Heaven is about us, not me—about our rest and peace, not just mine. We are the ones who, by truly respecting those around us in our everyday choices, have the ability to enact the Celestial Reign here on earth. God’s Kingdom isn’t simply “at hand”—something that will happen if we’re just patient or passive or prayerful enough. God’s Kingdom is in our hands! It exists through the gifts we offer one another, gifts of respect and gratitude and peace and, ultimately, the gift of rest.
[1] Exodus 20:8-11 | All Bible quotations are from the NRSVue unless otherwise noted.
[2] Genesis 1:31-2:3
[3] The first formal mention of “the sabbath” comes from Exodus 17, during the story introducing manna.
[4] Deuteronomy 5:12-15
[5] It appears that nothing is, when we apply Scripture in reflection of God’s character.