The Priest’s Rest, Jesus’ Pedagogy
“Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a little” (Mk 6:31)
I am an enemy of barbarisms, but let us make an exception this time. Because it has been pompously called the “pastoral burn-out syndrome” for the state of emotional, physical, and mental exhaustion of the priest worn out by pastoral work, one of the most dangerous risks that lurk for the cleric of this hour. Such demotivation and loss of enthusiasm for the work can even affect physical and emotional health. It is not a simple fatigue that is overcome with a night’s sleep, but a weariness that settles in the heart, as if life had lost its light and its music. It is a mixture of physical, mental, and spiritual exhaustion that clouds the gaze and makes the ministry heavy and prayer arid, that makes service feel like a burden and the joy that accompanied the first years seem faded. This weariness must not be ignored or minimized, but interpreted as a sign that the inner flame needs to be rekindled.
The whole person is involved in the vocation. If exhausted, the body ends up dragging the soul toward sadness. Sleeping regularly, eating and drinking in order, avoiding excesses, exercising, walking under the sky and beside the trees, reading something uplifting, praying without haste, listening to music (but music!) are acts of respect toward one’s own humanity that shape a balanced and fruitful priestly life. The body asks for that sleep, that silence, that clean air. The mind asks for that beauty, that landscape that oxygenates the eyes, that melody that untangles thoughts. The heart asks for tenderness, encounter, time to look and be looked at. When those needs are not heeded, weariness accumulates like a long winter that extinguishes the flowers. And everything becomes more difficult: the smile costs effort, patience shortens, the word loses its shine.
Giving the mind a moment of calm, and the heart the joy of a simple friendship to express emotions, is sharing burdens. Spiritual accompaniment helps to order the interior. It is not weakness to turn to a brother priest when the weight overwhelms; on the contrary, it is a sign of maturity to recognize that the mission is not carried out alone. Priestly fraternity is a medicine that heals fatigue, prevents isolation, and restores hope.
Caring for soul and body, the vocation recovers its splendor, preaching is reborn from personal encounter with the Word, the gaze becomes more compassionate, pastoral charity regains tenderness. Silence and rest act like a river that cleanses the heart of accumulated hardness and returns it to its first love. In that climate of serenity, the inner fire is rekindled and the ministry ceases to be a weight to become joy once again. Far from diverting from the mission, quietude makes it more fruitful, because it allows working from peace and not from agitation.
The ministry gets trapped in the spiral of the immediate, in the tyranny of the urgent, when meetings follow one after another, documents pile up, calls do not cease, commitments give no truce, days fill to the limit, and pauses are lived almost as a guilty luxury. In that vertigo, the soul is relegated to a corner. When the urgent takes the place of the essential, prayer is reduced to the minimum, like a hurried sigh, the Holy Mass is celebrated with tedium, reading and study disappear, the mission becomes antipathetic. That is why it is necessary to keep in mind that not everything depends on human efficacy, that there is a time to work and a time to remain in silence before the Lord, letting Him do the work, knowing that the ministry is not sustained by one’s own strength, but by Grace that renews every day the first love.
Rest is not evasion or loss of time, but a way of honoring the gift received, a mode of fidelity to the ministry. Serene in body and spirit, gaze and heart are renewed. To rest is to open the window to the sun and allow fresh air to enter the soul. Rest is physical, psychological, and affective: a week of retreat, an afternoon of silent Eucharistic adoration, a moment of reading that nourishes and unburdens the mind, a quiet walk under the morning star, a sincere conversation with a friend who knows how to listen, a gathering to care for relationships and laugh freely… all this is food for the interior. Those moments oxygenate the mind and make problems look different: they are left to rest!
It is not about fleeing from the flock, but caring for one’s own heart to continue shepherding without hardening. To rest is an act of trust. It is like putting the helm in the Lord’s hands and saying to Him: “Steer the boat tonight; I will recline for a while in the stern.” Thus, rest is not evasion, but a confession of faith.
Jesus Himself withdrew to the mountain, sought silence, separated from the crowds to pray, to speak with the Father. He did it at dawn, in the silence of the night. It was not flight but strengthening to return and announce the Kingdom again. “Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a little” (Mk 6:31). The Master today continues inviting His own to withdraw and rest, because He knows the fatigue caused by the ministry. Jesus’ pedagogy teaches that the fruitfulness of the mission is born from intimacy with God and not from mere activism. In prayer, “silent music, sonorous solitude, supper that recreates and enamors,” the sense of vocation is rekindled, intention is purified, and that Voice is heard again that one day called me by name. The priest who allows himself to be guided by this rhythm of contemplation finds the balance that allows him to serve without losing peace.
There is something deeply human and divine in stopping. It is not just interrupting work or turning off the lights of the parish office. It is returning home, returning to oneself, returning to God. Sacred Scripture presents the Shabbat as that great return: the day when man remembers that he is a creature and not the creator, that the universe does not depend on his effort, but on the hands that sustain it from the beginning.
In his first messages Leo XIV has reminded that the ministry cannot devour the person. The tasks are many, but not all are urgent, and even these need the heart to be awake, clean, serene. Otherwise, there is the risk of falling into an activism that exhausts, that dries up the inner sources, that turns service into mere obligation. Rest cares for the fruitfulness of the ministry. When the soul has breathed deeply, it listens better, discerns calmly, welcomes without haste. Homilies prepared with a heart at peace, serious study, juicy prayer, have the bonus odor Christi. Advice drawn from the tabernacle gives light and strength.
And spiritual rest is sitting again beside Christ, not to speak, but to let His gaze heal the weariness, practicing the Teresian advice: “Look that He is looking at you.” It is enough to be there, without haste, without clock, without mobile, without demands, letting Him act and discovering that His work continues its course, because it is His! To rest like this is humility, courage, and freedom. It is recognizing that the vineyard has an Owner and that I am only His worker. It is trusting that God cares for His people, even when I close the office door and go for a walk at dusk, without a sense of guilt, because rest is not lost time but sown, where the Lord restores strength and rekindles the joy of serving; because rest is the true anticipation of heaven, requies aeterna!