2019 Sermon Series: God Creates
Reflections on Biblical Manifestation of the Ideas Within ‘The Trouble with Wilderness’ as It Relates to Wilderness Canoe Base
Hello everybody! My name is Beatrice and I’m the Island and Family Camp Coordinator, among many other things, here at Wilderness. This is my seventh summer spending time in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness: two trips with my dad, three as a camper here, and two summers on staff. My experiences in this wilderness space were formative for my identity, relationships, and faith throughout my adolescent years. The trips I went on both humbled and uplifted me, satisfied both my desire for adventure and my need for rest, strengthened relationships between my trip mates and gave me time to reflect on my relationship with God.
From these trips, I distinctly remember being in absolute awe of God’s creation unpolluted by human influence–the multitude of stars undiluted by city lights, the clean, clear water, the silence and calm free from the stresses and evils of the civilized world. To me, it was pure, and holy. I felt closer to God’s presence than I ever had in my day-to-day life, and so I kept coming back, summer after summer, to experience it again.
Imagine my surprise when, my freshman year of college, I was slapped in the face with a paper entitled, “The Trouble with Wilderness”.
It was written by a professor at the University of Wisconsin – Madison named William Cronon. In it he examines the consequences of popular perceptions of wilderness, commonly defined as a space absent of human influence, throughout European and American history. Namely, he addresses the fact that, quote, “Far from being the one place on earth that stands apart from humanity, wilderness is quite profoundly a human creation—indeed, the creation of very particular human cultures at very particular moments in human history” (end quote). Over time the mainstream idea of wilderness has evolved from a place of physical and moral danger, of exile, to a proving ground for self-sufficiency and masculinity, to a space where one could meet God in the majesty of creation unaffected by the trivial matters of humankind. The latter is the sentiment I hear most often from my peers and the one that most resonates with my wilderness experience.
I remember reading Cronon’s essay for the first time and being confused and conflicted, and in fact, rather angry at the suggestion that my religious experience in a human-less place might be a product of the culture I was raised in. It felt so real and so important to me that I didn’t want to believe it.
But after multiple readings, I shook myself a little looser from my ego and allowed myself to consider some of Cronon’s ideas. Why is it that we believe humanity must contaminate holy things? Specifically, why do we consider ourselves to be outside the holiness of nature, visitors in an otherwise Godly place?
In the verse we read from Job, it is made clear that we are as much a part of God’s creation as what’s out there–the fish, the birds, the earth. “In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.” We’re told in Genesis that we are part of the earth, from birth until death. “For out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Thus, we are worthy of as much love and reverence as the beauty we see all around us, both personally and as human beings.
My point here isn’t to try and fix humanity’s self esteem issues.
In today’s discussions about global warming, wildlife conservation, deforestation, or any other environmental issue, people speak with urgency and fear for the future of our planet, and rightfully so. But more often than being driven to action, I hear people say how doomed we are, comparing us to an unwelcome parasite on the planet that needs to be wiped out, implying that if it weren’t for us earth would be a flourishing Garden of Eden. But what good does that do for the environmental cause? Cronon states that by believing in such ideas that set us apart from the natural world, quote: “we leave ourselves little hope of discovering what an ethical, sustainable, honorable human place in nature might actually look like.”
In the Gospel according to Matthew that we read today, John the Baptist, a man Jesus had a personal relationship with and held in high regard as a holy figure, is beheaded for reasons as trivial as a drunken promise. When Jesus hears of this, he escapes to what is referred to as a “desert” place. As a side note, “desert” is translated from the greek word eremos, which is also the root of the words eremo and eremon, which in other parts of the bible is often translated as “wilderness”. In other translations, “desert” is replaced by “out-of-the-way” or “lonely”. The point is, Jesus goes to a place devoid of people. Based on his abrupt departure following the news, he seems almost disgusted, like he just wants to get away from the shortcomings of humanity. I feel like any of us would have the same reaction if we were in his shoes. In fact, we often do when we’re faced with how we as a species treat the earth. But in this story, the people follow him into the wilderness. And while Jesus could have sent them away with the convenient excuse of not having enough food so that he could continue being alone, he instead has compassion for them. Compassion, meaning patience, understanding, belief in them.
During one of his last words this year , Nate invited us to think about the feeding of the five thousand story a little differently. It is possible that, rather than creating the food himself, Jesus organized the people present to gather together what they had so that everybody would be well-fed, with plenty to spare. This, in my opinion, is a much more significant act than any divine magic that could be performed. I mean, talk about responsible resource management! Jesus intentionally shows us a miracle that can and should be done long after he’s gone.
Within this story the holiness is not found when Jesus sits alone in the wilderness; it’s found when other people enter that space and when those people are willing to learn and participate in something larger than themselves.
If Jesus had given up on those people like we’ve begun to give up on ourselves as a species, he may have remained alone and unwilling to organize those people for good. Likewise, we cannot solve our environmental problems by cutting people out of the picture, by sending them away and only valuing the wilderness separate from civilization. Not only is that unproductive, but it’s actually harmful in many ways. What about the environmental issues in the spaces where people live? The issues that disproportionately affect people of color, native people, and other marginalized groups? The people who have been or will be displaced because they are apparently too human to exist within a wilderness space? In our mission to save the earth, we must also consider that humans are interwoven throughout creation and thus must be a part of the solution.
There are too many examples of environmental injustice for me to talk about within a 10-or-so-minute sermon, so if you want some more resources about these topics I’d be so happy to point you in the right direction.
We are incredibly fortunate to be in this wild place. Its remoteness makes it valuable in so many ways; the bright stars, the clear water, and the unique and delicate ecosystem are a constant reminder of the beauty of creation. The simplicity with which we choose to live while we’re here allows us to clear our thoughts and reflect on our lives. It’s a place that inspires community and adventure and challenge in ways that are sometimes more difficult to find near many of our homes. And despite my initial fear when exploring this topic, the experiences we have in this space are incredibly real and beautiful and important. For these reasons and many others, it’s imperative that it be cared for and protected and managed wisely.
But know that this place, and others like it, should not just be an escape for us. It shouldn’t be a solution. Because Jesus, in the midst of his escape, instead realized the potential of the people who followed him by organizing them as a part of the solution. And I believe that, by following Jesus’ example, we have the potential to finally establish a healthy relationship with this planet.
The last paragraph of The Trouble with Wilderness gives a call to action that we can all do, right here and right now, because it involves a shift in mindset:
“Learning to honor the wild . . .means striving for critical self-consciousness in all of our actions. It means the deep reflection and respect must accompany each act of use, and means too that we must always consider the possibility of non-use. It means looking at the part of nature we intend to turn toward our own ends and asking whether we can use it again and again and again—sustainably—without its being diminished in the process. It means never imagining that we can flee into a mythical wilderness to escape history and the obligation to take responsibility for our own actions that history inescapably entails. Most of all, it means practicing remembrance and gratitude, for thanksgiving is the simplest and most basic of ways for us to recollect the nature, the culture, and the history that have come together to make the world as we know it. If wildness can stop being (just) out there and start being (also) in here, if it can start being as humane as it is natural, then perhaps we can get on with the unending task of struggling to live rightly in the world—not just in the garden, not just in the wilderness, but in the home that encompasses them both.”
How wonderful is it that we are as beautiful and important and valuable as what we see all around us? How exciting is the possibility for us to finally exist in balance with the world? I don’t claim to know exactly what that might look like, and I guarantee that it won’t be simple or easy. But I do know that we, along with the fish, the birds, and the earth, and the dust from which we come and will return, are holy. And I know that we have the potential to do justice for the world, for both its wildlife and its people, if we can see in ourselves the capacity for good and begin to organize ourselves to feed the five thousand and beyond, with plenty to spare.