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?