Where has passivity gone?

A friend of mine, an aging priest whose hands shake with Parkinson tremors, managed to write me a note with the following quotation by William Lynch, a Catholic scholar.
“The image of death as passivity and helplessness may well be the great American fear. The American has not yet been helped by our artists to handle images of passivity. He has only demeaning and corrupt images of the passive, of not being able, like Horatio Alger, to do all things. And such are his images of waiting, or doing nothing, or being dependent. The American is not equipped, therefore, with an imagination, with a set of images, which would tell him that it is all right to lie down in good time and die, dependently leaving it to God to raise him up again.“

I too suffer from lack of mental images that affirm passivity. I have spent years running myself.Running was better than walking, walking than sitting, and anything was better than lying down.

But Inspired by Lynch’s wise words, I have tried to think of images of passivity that artists have given us during my lifetime. I'm having a hard time with that. What floated to the surface of my memory first was Daisy, in The Great Gatsby, languid and petulant on a chaise longue. Passivity = decadence.
Maybe new age music? Enya?

What about modern Madonna and child paintings? The subject claimed a goodly portion of paintings from the past. In them, Mary is not changing diapers or bathing the baby. She is usually just staring in adoration. For me, those are the most powerful images of peaceful passivity.

There must be some art out there supplying this oft denied urge toward the passive. Enlighten me, please, if you find one.