When Congress Tries to Negotiate with the Sun

The Clock May Change, But the Sun Never Does

There are very few things that unite Americans these days.

One of them is complaining about Daylight Saving Time.

Twice a year, millions of us perform the same ritual. We wander around the house changing clocks, forgetting one or two, and then spending the next week asking, “Why does my microwave think it’s Tuesday?”

Some people actually enjoy changing the clocks. They’re called retirees.

The rest of us wonder why our car, oven, coffee maker, and wristwatch can’t simply hold a family meeting and agree on the same time.

So when lawmakers recently proposed keeping Daylight Saving Time all year long, many people thought, “Wonderful! One less thing to worry about.”

There was just one tiny problem.

Nobody asked the sun.

Judaism has always had a unique relationship with time. We certainly appreciate clocks—but we don’t worship them.

Our tradition teaches that morning begins not because someone in Washington, Albany, or Silicon Valley says so. Morning begins when the Creator paints the eastern sky with light.

You can change the clock on your phone in three seconds.

Changing sunrise is considerably more complicated.

Imagine the conversation.

“Good morning, Mr. Sun. Congress has voted. We’d appreciate it if you could report for duty an hour earlier.”

The sun replies, “Thank you for your suggestion. I’ll continue following the schedule I’ve kept since the fourth day of Creation.”

That’s one government agency that never runs late.

If Daylight Saving Time remained all year, winter sunrises in New York wouldn’t arrive until about 8:20 in the morning. That’s wonderful if you’re a teenager trying to convince your parents it’s still the middle of the night.

For everyone else… not so much.

Many people begin each day with prayer before heading to work. Those prayers are connected to the actual sunrise—not to whatever time appears on a digital screen. Push sunrise later, and suddenly the morning becomes a race against the clock.

Ironically, the very clock change we complain about every autumn actually keeps our mornings closer to the natural rhythm of daylight.

Sometimes the inconvenience we dislike is quietly working in our favor.

Isn’t that often true in life?

Waiting in line teaches patience.

Traffic gives us time to think.

Grey hair reminds us we’ve accumulated wisdom—at least that’s what those of us with grey hair keep telling ourselves.

Life has a way of revealing that what first looked like an interruption was actually a gift.

Perhaps that’s the deeper message.

We live in a remarkable age. With the touch of a button we can order dinner, pay our bills, speak with someone on the other side of the world, and even ask artificial intelligence almost any question imaginable.

But there are still a few things technology cannot improve.

It cannot hurry a sunrise.

It cannot postpone a sunset.

It cannot command the seasons.

And maybe that’s healthy.

Every morning the sun quietly reminds us that there is a rhythm to life greater than our schedules, our deadlines, and even our legislation.

Some things simply refuse to be rushed.

King Solomon taught, “There is a time for every purpose under heaven.”

Notice he didn’t say ‘under Congress.

He said ‘under heaven’.

The more our world changes, the more comforting it is to know that every dawn still arrives exactly when it should, every sunset still keeps its appointment, and the One who set those heavenly clocks thousands of years ago has never once needed to reset them.

So the next time you grumble about changing your clocks, remember:

It’s much easier to move the hands on a clock than to move the sun.

And that’s probably just the way it should be.