Sabbath in Wilderness

31 Aug, 2011



As the last light of summer graces fields and faces, people of all colors, creeds, and kinds turn for one last dip in the golden cup. Families pile into would-be wagons and trace the rivers to the woods. Fathers and cousins scrape off the grill in the warm evening air. Sisters and mothers stroll the seaside with sandy toes. In the grass, the sweet, saucer eyes of babies shine in wonder at the natural magic around them. Children run and play and learn and unlearn the elemental summer existence of water, dirt, rock, and light. And the grown ones glimpse through the curtain of their world to the vibrant life still with them. All glow as the long shadowed light shifts to an autumnal orange.

In this seasonal salty glance back to nature, many people turn to wilderness. While the degree of “wild” in this wilderness might vary greatly from garden to backcountry, there is something important in the appeal.

North Entrance to Yellowstone National Park. Note the language on the inscription.

This past week, I joined thousands of other Americans in a place that epitomizes wilderness to many: Yellowstone National Park. For some, this is far too tame and controlled of an environment to warrant the word “wilderness.” But it is a place where millions come as close as they ever will to encountering animals that are not domesticated, landscapes without human structures, and visible demonstrations of nature’s wondrous processes at work.

Every August 25th, the park employees celebrate Christmas in the Park. These folks invited me over to join their feast and celebration. I brought the guitar, and we all sang some carols. Classic!

It is in this encounter that we find the defining quality of wilderness. Ask most folks to define wilderness, and they will likely respond with descriptions of evergreens, striking canyons or mountains, and probably concerns about bears, moose, or other large mammals. The US Wilderness Act of 1964 defines wilderness as “an area where the earth and its community of life are untrammeled by man, where man himself is a visitor who does not remain.” As opposed to generalized concepts of nature, wilderness is something that we visit but is ultimately beyond our control. What is the value of an encounter with this sort of wilderness?

In the Judeo-Christian tradition, wilderness plays a unique roll in the restoration, preparation, and refinement of faith. Nearly every Biblical figure faces an encounter with the divine in the wilderness at some moment crucial to the development of their faith. Abraham takes Isaac to a mountain. Moses encounters God in the burning bush in the wilderness. The Israelites learned their faith, drew near to God, and escaped oppression in the wilderness. Jeremiah pines for a lodging-place in the wilderness. Elijah encounters God in silence in the wilderness. Job is reoriented to God and the world around him in the whirlwind. While living on locusts and honey out by the Jordan, John the Baptist explicitly states that he is “the voice of one crying out in the wilderness.” Of course, Jesus goes to the wilderness for 40 days and 40 nights in preparation for his ministry.

Jesus’ experience is indicative of the role of wilderness in the development of faith. Life is not easy out in the wilderness. He fasts. He is famished. He gets tempted. He faces the “other” in the wilderness while simultaneously facing his own depths. This experience is crucial to Jesus’ preparation and development.

Of course, Jesus’ temptation is not his only experience in the wilderness. In fact, wilderness is at the heart of Jesus’ ministry. He faces the wilderness in storms, water, and a number of miracles that take place outside of the large urban area—particularly Jerusalem. It is not coincidental that Jesus is born in the country among animals and transfigured on a mountain; nor is it meaningless that he is killed in a city.

Much like the Sabbath tradition, encounters with wilderness serve to restore our solitude by taking us away from our quotidian comforts and practices. In wilderness, we face something greater than ourselves, which facilitates our understanding of the divine mystery. Most people will never wander into the depths of the deserts, swamps, tundra, or forests of the true wilderness. But we all face the proverbial wilderness within us at various points in our lives. Through periods of hardship and transition, we face our depths and our relationship to the universe in rare moments of trial. Through those interactions, we grow in understanding and mature in faith and practices of all sorts. These experiences teach us that the wilderness is both within us and beyond us, and our orientation is forever changed.

Western pawn shop

I've crossed the Continental Divide several times. This is the highest crossing.

On a windy day, this butterfly took shelter on my leg for 6 miles! When was the last time you went 6 miles with a wild creature. Definitely a treat!

We encounter the divine outside of wilderness, but there is something unique in the physical experience of natural wilderness that provides for more lasting connection. That unique experience is honored in our history—from Moses and Jesus through the Desert Fathers (and Mothers) to John Muir. If we seek God, we must preserve the land in which our encounters with God are deepest.

Two nights ago, I awoke in my tent in a lakeside campsite immediately below the highest peaks of the Tetons. The night’s silence drew me out into the crisp air. Once outside, I walked slowly out to a meadow where the darkness overwhelmed me. There was no moon, no breeze, and no light but the stars. My eyes drew from the ancient patterns passed down from thousands of other eyes, then shook those lines away to behold the grandeur from the great black earth.

Until we meet again

More refreshed, refined, and respectful

Than we thought possible

My old friend Ben Musser met me for the last stretch of the ride into Jackson Hole. Of course, we had to stop and play some music!