Mary: An American Sabbath?

As an International Baccalaureate teacher, I have the fortunate ability, along with my students, to explore the deep-seeded and oft hidden motivations of a culture.  As of late, many of my classroom conversations have centered around America's obsession with "more."  More money.  More youthfulness.  More fame.  More beauty.  More effort.  More technology.  More words.  More possessions.  More work.  More noise.  More suffering.  More rewards.  More distraction.  More destinations.  Divorces.  Upgrades.  Downloads.  More.  More.  More.

I'm tired just typing that.

But, then, I ponder...isn't the idea of "more" what drives our society?  America is a capitalist culture (God bless America, and give us M.O.R.E!), and capitalism is built on the very idea that what I have right now is not good enough, thus I--we--work harder to earn more.  And dang it, if I dare think it is enough (Gasp the thought!), well thank the good god of Moreness that there are commercials and billboards and Internet ads to tell me how untrue that is!  Businesses are built on this excessive exertion of energy.  And sadly, I think, so our churches.  Perhaps that is another post...

But I fear that this economic and healthy (?) perpetual pursuit of more has seeped into the seat of our souls.  More religious events.  More spiritual activities.  More shallow hallowed be thy names and thy kingdoms of busyness come.

But I have some questions disturbing me lately...
Where is the less in blessed?
Dare I say, where is the emptiness?  
The utter abandonment to the still and quiet nothingness where Everything can be found?

I wonder if I have even drawn near to that holy emptiness yet.  Nearly 5 months of consistent Sabbath keeping, and well, even on Sundays I'm looking for more.  If I sit on my couch and enjoy the sun, eventually it's not enough.  If I lay in bed and rest my eyelids and heart, soon the questions about what to do next creep in.  When making dinner, I'm constantly thinking about the next. moment.  In other words, more.  More is always there, even on Sabbath.

It is almost as if the Sabbath for me has been this adventure skiing, where I have stood at the top of the mountain in utter snowy stillness, but yet have refused to dive off the cliff on a blind, downhill race into an unknown abyss.  I will go this far; but no farther.  I cannot surrender to the emptiness.

I'm not OK with this.  And quite frankly, I'm a little peeved that my country's culture is dictating the matters of my heart and my God.  And I can't relinquish this haunting voice of Wayne Muller:

"This is one of our fears of quiet; if we stop and listen, we will hear this emptiness.  If we worry we are not good or whole inside, we will be reluctant to stop and rest, afraid we will find a lurking emptiness, a terrible, aching void with nothing to fill it, as if it will corrode and destroy us like some horrible, insatiable monster.  If we are terrified of what we will find in rest, we will refuse to look up form our work, refuse to stop moving.  We quickly fill all the blanks on our calendar with tasks, accomplishments, errands, things to be done--anything to fill the time, the empty space.
But this emptiness has nothing at all to do with our value or our worth.  All life has emptiness at its core; it is the quiet hollow reed through which the wind of God blows and makes the music that is our life.  Without that  emptiness, we are clogged and unable to give birth to music, love, or kindness.  All creation springs from emptiness.  In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.  The earth was without form, and void..."

Dave asked this too, on a previous blog.  So much is to be said about this...this...unwillingness to let go and just b.e.  Do I consume myself with being more, with being enough, even on Sabbath, so that I can't just dive into the unknown abyss?  Can't I let myself be OK with a void, so as to be the birthing place of something new and glorious and wondrous and beautiful?

Is the only way to M.O.R.E. through less?

Through nothing?

The Nuts and Bolts

Inevitably, I knew we would face the how-to's of Sabbath.  It is not enough to just wake up on Sundays with a mind to be different from the other 6 days.  We need a plan.  We need guiding principles.  Today, I'd like to reflect on those.

Guiding Principle #1.  The Sabbath cannot be a different me.

I've been finding that the Sabbath is the highlight of my week, and rightly so.  But it is also becoming the distinguishable highlight of my holiness.  Not rightly so.  Of course on Sabbath it is easy to be loving, to be at peace, to hold my tongue from the wrathful things it can say, to silence my mind from the mean-spirited perpetual criticalness.  But what is that?  It means nothing.  After all, it is easy to avoid fighting when not on the battlefield.  But how I live the other 6 days is more important than how I live on one day called Sabbath!  Thank God, I'm coming to this place where I see how there is a disconnect between who I am on Sunday, and who I am the other days.  I'm not ok with this.  I'm sure those around me and Him whom I serve is not either.

I confess that I am condemning, of myself and others.  I confess that frequently I do not use the power of language to build others up, but rather to tear down.  I confess that fear consumes my heart and anxiety my mind.  I confess the terrifying paradox of insecurity and arrogance.

The Sabbath must be a different day from the rest of the week.  But I shouldn't be.  Oh hypocrisy!

Guiding Principle #2. A Sabbath mantra by which to live.

Cease from what is necessary.  Embrace that which gives life.  (Buchanan, The Rest of God)

There are many things to do on a Sabbath.  And many things not to.  How does one choose between those options?

I'm finding it appealing to live by the aforementioned mantra.

Do I have to do it?
Then no, don't do it.

Do I want to do it?

Then, yes do it.  And love it and laugh it and live it and linger it.

I've heard many accounts of the stifled, legalistic households of Sabbath, where people couldn't even turn on a light or take a walk.  I do not want Dave and I to become that.  After all, Sabbath was made for us, not us for it.  Thus, we should grasp at whatever gives the thumping heartbeat of life, and toss aside whatever steals the thrill of living in a moment.

Guiding Principle #3:  Waste time playing.

"Play is subversive.  It hints at a world beyond us.  It carriers a rumor of eternity, news from a kingdom where Chronos [the enslavement of time] and utility are no more welcome than death and Hades and the ancient serpent.  When we play, we nudge the border of forever"(Buchanan, The Rest of God).
"Maybe all the other virtues of childhood--trust, humility, simplicity, innocence, wonder--are not separate from a life of playfulness, but the fruit of it:  that apart from cartwheels and kite flying, leapfrog and hide and seek, snakes-and-ladders and digging for buried treasure, all those other things wither"(Buchanan, The Rest of God).

Our house has been awfully quiet the last couple of Sabbaths.  We gathered around 500 puzzle pieces while listening to Classical music.  We spend time on our couch reading and meditating to the tune of our gentle wind chimes.  We lay down and cuddle and nap in the middle of the day without guilt.  It's been good.

But it's been unbalanced.  We need some adreneline on a Sabbath...the stuff that makes our heart thump and our soul smile.  Climb some 14ers.  Ski.  Take a road trip.  Hike for the best picture spots.  Eat ice cream next to a babbling brook.  Play Twister.  Challenge at tennis.  Swim and lounge in a hot tub.  Laugh til our belly hurts.  Scream while dropping stories on a roller coaster.  Swing at the park.  Play.  Like little kids.

There is something...
so...
so...Sabbath about that.