If It's Sunday, It's...
The art and value of a Sabbath.
“If it’s Sunday, it’s Meet the Press.”
As I woke up this morning, Tim Russert’s voice rang in my mind, intoning the phrase that served as a weekly call for pause through most of my 20s. Tim Russert, for the youths among my readership, was a legendary journalist and anchor of NBC’s Meet the Press from 1991 until his sudden, untimely death from a heart attack in 2008.1 For years, my Sunday morning worship was Meet the Press, my communion a cup of coffee. In an age before podcasts, Tim Russert was my deeply trusted minister; his flock composed of the engaged, the politically astute, and those who tuned in for a knowledgeable tour of American civil discourse (when such things resembled civility).
Russert, a proud native of Buffalo, telegraphed openness, approachability, joviality, and wisdom for one hour on Sunday mornings. His gospel was my profession, American politics, and his steady presence in the weekly news cycle (yes, news cycles used to be weekly) was a comforting foundation of impartial journalistic ground upon which elections could play themselves out.
In the closing days of President Obama’s 2008 Iowa Caucus campaign, as the candidate and surrogates barnstormed through blizzards, I found myself sitting next to Russert in the press pen at a town hall in Newton. On his other side sat David Axelrod, who Russert was kindly but firmly grilling about Obama’s chances of victory. Axelrod leaned over, pointed my way, and said, “You should be asking her.”
A senior member of the political team from the Iowa Caucus through Obama’s first inaugural,2 I was responsible for shepherding a wide range of people during events, from C-list (Brandon Routh) to A-list (Scarlett Johansson) celebrities to American political royalty (Caroline Kennedy) to those who exist in a stratospheric renown (Oprah Winfrey). But my brief conversation with Tim Russert, during which I mumbled something about needing to change the math to hold off John Edwards, remains the pinnacle holy-shit-I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening moment of my 25 years in politics.
So I wasn’t entirely surprised or weirded out by hearing “If it’s Sunday, it’s Meet the Press” like a command from on high this morning. Perhaps more jarring is the shape of my life, 17 years and six days after that encounter.3 My husband was downstairs getting our 12-year-old ready for hockey practice while our 11-year-old slept in. I had a rescue hound waiting for breakfast, Christmas trees to undecorate, and a Whole 30 breakfast to cook. As my first “Slow Sunday” of 2025 began, I thought back to the Sundays of my 20s, when I proactively chose to engage in carrying the weight of the world (to my mind) for 80-100 hours each week yet still reserved that one-hour pause for Tim Russert. It had been intentional rest amid organized chaos. A pause to recharge my frazzled mind and tired body.
Intention and pause.
“The Sabbath is the day on which we learn the art of surpassing civilization.”
- Abraham Joshua Heschel, The Sabbath
No matter how often life transforms, observing a Sabbath ages well. In his classic book The Sabbath, published in 1951, Abraham Joshua Heschel puts forth the tenets of Jewish spirituality while offering lessons people of all belief systems can lean on in today’s world. “People of our time are losing the power of celebration. Instead of celebrating, we seek to be amused or entertained,” and “The Sabbath is the day on which we learn the art of surpassing civilization” resonate today, three-quarters of a century later. While I’ve never been a regular church-goer, I have, in various periods, found myself at some organized service several weeks out of the year. Whether I’m daydreaming or engrossed in the sermon, simply sitting in community with other humans for 60 minutes without a screen calms me.
Devoting a designated amount of time, once a week, around an intentional pause is the nourishment our souls require to survive life.
Creating your own Sabbath.
Creating space for intention and pause in your week can take any form that works for you. It doesn’t have to be a Sunday. Maybe you prefer a Pizza and Movie night on Friday or a Family Game Night on Saturday. You might spend your day signed out of email, turning off your cell phone, or putting it on Do Not Disturb for 24 hours. Spending time in nature or in meditation, journaling, reading, creating, going for a long walk or run, doing a puzzle, or listening to a Sabbath-specific playlist could all be in your rotation.
The Sabbath you design should a) revolve around activities that foster connection with those you love and b) offer time to reflect on your life's meaning. It doesn’t have to look the same from week to week and can be observed wherever you choose to perform it. I use “perform” because the Sabbath should feel like an act whether you allocate one hour or an entire day to it. It is not a passive thing; it is a purposeful undertaking.
I created and observed a Sabbath without realizing it during my Tim Russert fandom days. While I lost the consistent practice of intentional rest during my 30s—having babies and building businesses lend themselves to significant calendar creep—I’ve returned to the practice as a core value in my 40s. While I’m still “busy,” I’m certainly not as busy as I once was. I no longer clock 100-hour weeks. I no longer cast myself in the role of Savior of the Human Race.
These days, it’s a win if the kids make it to school with appropriate winter attire. A good week is marked by getting my steps in more days than not. The only thing I accept control over is how I respond to the circumstances I find myself in at any given moment. This season of life is lighter and less chaotic. It allows for a weekly Sabbath. And when Sunday morning rolls around, I welcome it.
Because if it’s Sunday, it’s Meet the Press.
https://www.jcu.edu/academics/communication/the-legacy
Iowa Caucus Political Director (2007-2008); Indiana General Election State Director (2008); National Political Director, Presidential Inaugural Committee (2009).
https://p2008.org/ia08/iavobama.html