After the hectic action of last week’s Torah portion, this week we get quietness.

Last week Sarah laughed and was chastised by God, had her baby, and was cruel to Hagar; Abraham tried to talk God out of destroying Sodom and Gomorrah; Hagar and Ishmael were banished and despaired; Abraham almost killed Isaac.

Life — even in the Bible — is not always like that. Days, weeks, and months can go by without important things happening. But repercussions of those events continue, like ripples that move further and further from the source of the disruption until you barely remember where they started.

This Torah portion (called “the life of Sarah,” although it began with her death) gives us the quiet aftermath of the bewildering and hectic activities of the previous one.

The story continued, quietly. Abraham buried Sarah, got a wife for his son Isaac, and died content. At the end of his life there is a surprise twist: half-brothers Ishmael and Isaac bury their father together.

Instead of drama, we see humans interacting with humans. We see life going on. People mourn, people love, people search and find, and people are comforted.

Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz called this the pendulum of life; he wrote, “This shift between excitement and tranquility reflects a deeper truth about human life, which is marked by both periods of intense ascents and descents, as well as phases of calm and routine. Just as people experience moments of dramatic change, they also go through times of stability and reflection.”

Today, Americans sit in a liminal space between an election and a new administration. Because the past tells a story, we can guess what the future will hold. But we don’t know for certain.

Although I would not call this a time of stability, it certainly is an opportunity for reflection. What happened, and why? For those of us who are disappointed, where do we go from here? With whom? Where do we concentrate our efforts?

Now that the votes have been counted, I am casting another vote: A vote for a brief respite from striving, from agitating, from both anger and despair. A Shabbat of the soul.

I know that I will be ready to once again take up the mantle of Worker for Justice. Just not today.

Next week is the American holiday of Thanksgiving. Soon after, led by the intrepid Carol Rescigno, my local chapter of the Brady Campaign Against Gun Violence will hold its annual vigil.

Every day in this great nation of ours, seven children die from gun violence. Every day. Yesterday. Today. Last Tuesday.

As we look at the fires of hatred and fear and ignorance burning all around, I think it’s time that each person choose one, and then do their best to help douse the flames. I don’t care which fire you choose. There are more than enough to engage us all.

Bring a bucket, a cup, a teaspoon. Bring your whole self. But first, rest and refresh. Breathe. We have a lifetime’s work ahead.