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An ancient Catholic practice key to warding off burnout

Ofiara pedofila, Magda, opowiada swoją historię
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Cerith Gardiner - published on 05/17/25
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With the increase in mental struggles -- particularly among the young -- a little respite can be found in this faith-filled tradition.

May is a month dedicated to mental health. And with an alarming rise in mental health issues among young adults, it's vital to find ways to reduce the mental load.

After all, these days there’s a certain kind of exhaustion that doesn’t go away with a full night’s sleep. It’s the tiredness that builds quietly over weeks — maybe even years — of deadlines, notifications, late-night thoughts, and the pressure to be constantly available, constantly improving, constantly on. For many young adults, this isn’t just a rough season. It’s normal life.

And yet, in the middle of this over-connected, overwhelmed culture, something surprising is happening: more and more young people are finding their way back to church.

They’re not necessarily coming for answers or tradition — at least not at first. Many young adults have shared with me that they're showing up simply because they need a place to breathe.

The Church as a safe haven

For young adults navigating the chaos of modern life — whether that’s university deadlines, corporate burnout, or the emotional wear and tear of social media — church can feel like one of the only places that doesn’t demand performance. No one’s grading you. You don’t need a filter. You can just be.

They can step into a quiet church on a weekday, and see the calming flickers of candles, a shaft of light through stained glass, and maybe someone just sitting in the stillness. No earbuds, no rush. Just ... breathing. It's hard not to feel detached from outside noise.

This is where the centuries-old tradition of respecting the Sabbath comes in — not as a rule, but as a gift. Not a religious obligation, but a quiet act of resistance.

What if rest is more than recovery?

Somewhere along the way, many of us learned to view rest as the reward for hard work. You earn your downtime. You earn your Sunday nap. And if you haven’t earned it yet — well, you’d better hustle harder.

But that’s not how Sabbath was designed. From the very beginning, rest was part of the rhythm of life. Even God rested. Not because He was tired, but because He delighted in the pause. He wanted to contemplate the good He had created and rejoice in it.

Taking time off, especially as a young adult, can feel irresponsible. Everyone else seems to be pushing, climbing, grinding. But stepping back — choosing to rest — can be a radical act of trust. It’s embracing the idea that reminds us: I’m not defined by my productivity. I’m not a machine. I’m a human being — and my worth isn’t something I have to prove every day, or any day.

The Sabbath isn’t just Sunday

For many, the word "Sabbath" brings up childhood memories of being told to “keep Sunday holy” — which might have meant putting on nice shoes, sitting still at Mass, and maybe staying off video games.

But Sabbath in its deeper sense isn’t just about Sunday. It’s about carving out sacred time — space that isn’t filled with achievement or entertainment, but with rest, reflection, and reconnection (but not on social media!).

For some, that might mean unplugging from phones for an hour. For others, it might mean walking to Mass or leaving early enough to go the long way around, lingering afterward without rushing off. It could be a slow meal with people you love. A nap without guilt. A journal, a book, a moment of silence.

Rest isn’t lazy. It’s healing.

Jesus Himself withdrew to rest and pray — often stepping away from crowds, even when they still needed Him. That wasn’t selfish. It was deeply wise.

Burnout isn’t just a buzzword anymore. It’s a health crisis, especially among younger generations. We were raised to multitask, to hustle, to curate an online presence while building a future. But many are realizing that constant doing doesn’t lead to deep peace.

The Church, with all her ancient traditions, offers something deeply countercultural: the invitation to pause. In Eucharistic Adoration, the faithful sit in stillness with no agenda. In confession, burdens are unloaded. In the liturgy, we step into a rhythm that is not dictated by efficiency, but by beauty.

Come to me, all who are weary

At the heart of Sabbath is a simple invitation from Jesus: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)

This rest isn’t about escape. It’s about return — to ourselves, to God, to what matters most.

If you’ve been running on empty, you’re not alone. And maybe, just maybe, the place to find your rest is in church, because there you'll find that the Church isn’t asking you to do more.

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