To lay down the tools on a fixed day, when nothing forces the halt, is a sacrifice that announces a man's trustworthiness to everyone who watches. He shows himself governed by something above appetite and above the endless press of labor. A community that agrees to bow together on the same day has placed a shared highest thing at its center. That common submission holds the many as one.
Abandon the practice and watch what follows. When the supreme value goes unhonored, every lesser aim rushes to fill the vacancy, and confusion reigns as each impulse fights for the throne. The seventh day is no idle blank. It points the whole week at what stands above the week, so the days beneath it fall into their proper order. Stop, so that everything else may be arranged.