The wilderness is part of the psyche of the biblical world – rather akin to the place of the desert and wilderness in the North American psyche (think of the challenge of the vast wildernesses of this country to the pioneering generations in the great Western migrations or the iconic art of the Hudson Valley School or of the art of Georgia O'Keefe) is at one and the same time both fascinating and fearful.

In the world of the Bible the wilderness played a pivotal role in the story of God’s people: the children of Israel journeyed for 40 years in the wilderness; Elijah met God in the wilderness of Sinai; Jesus was tempted in the wilderness; he took his disciples apart into the wilderness; and he fed the hungry crowd who followed him into the wilderness.

In the biblical tradition the wilderness is a place of formation; a place of encounter; and a place of pilgrimage. It is not surprising therefore to discover Jesus, following his baptism and the divine recognition of his Sonship to be thrust into wilderness by the Spirit to be put to the test. For Jesus this is a spiritual activity as indicated by his fasting for 40 days and nights. Again in the biblical mind fasting and prayer stand together, a relationship we are in danger of losing in the West. We tend to honor the Lenten fast in word but not in deed. What many religious traditions have taught and still practice is the close connection between the physical and the spiritual. What we do with our bodies is of significance to our spiritual selves.

Matthew’s long account of Jesus’ wilderness experience overlays the episode with numerous references to the experience of Moses and the children of Israel in the wilderness years. For Matthew( and especially for the Jewish Christian hearers to whom he addresses the gospel) Jesus is the new Moses and much more. The wilderness is God’s initiative; it is the place where the people are formed from the Hebrew rabble into the people of God; it is the place where they are put to the test; it is the place where Mose’s leadership is forged; ultimately it is the place through which the people pass to the Promised Land. Even the three temptations echo the tests put to the Israelites: hunger, testing God and false worship. Jesus passes these tests with flying colors; he is the obedient Son of God.

But let us return to the image of the wilderness and consider it as an image of prayer. Today we often say “I need to get away from it all “, or “I need some time out”, or “I need some space” in order to escape from busy lives, the pressures of daily living or work, or simply other people. I think it was Carl Jung who said that “hurry is not just of the devil, it is the devil” You could read into that saying that busyness, noise, constant rush, too much social interaction, crowds and so on are or can be “of the devil”, that is they can overwhelm us; they can de-sensitize us and de-humanize us.

By taking time out, be it a vacation by the sea or in the mountains, a weekend walking in the outdoors, or simply making ourselves less available, we are in fact claiming the wilderness principle ourselves. In the spiritual tradition which we inherit this “wilderness principle” has long been honored. So we keep this season of Lent, modeled as it is on Jesus’ wilderness experience; so we go on retreats and quiet days; so there is a tradition of contemplative prayer (sometimes called the prayer of silence). These practices enable people to be in another place physically and spiritually, to move into another dimension of being. The wilderness experience is often called the via negativa or the apophatic tradition of prayer, that is prayer that is not dependent upon images or form.

Not that this wilderness experience is dependent upon place (although a change of place may be very helpful). But our wilderness may be a metaphor for an approach to praying, a matter of disposition. Jesus said: “when you pray, shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret”. All of us need places where we can be recreated, somewhere where we can be uninterrupted for a space, a place where we can stop, can attend, can simply be. What is central to the wilderness image in the Bible is that it was a place of silence, a place of formation and testing and a place of presence and encounter.

Silence:

To spend time in the desert or the great outdoors is to be aware of the silence, or at least the lack of human noise. So used are we to the background noise of city life that the silence of the wilderness can be palpable, it can be felt. Some people even say they couldn’t sleep for the silence. Sometimes the silence of a desert place can be quite threatening. But as you adjust to the silence you hear with a fresh acuity. I remember staying at a friend’s farm and of being aware during the night of the sounds of cattle in the nearby paddocks and of the dawn chorus of birds. Perhaps this Lent instead of filling up the silence with radio, television, your Ipod or whatever we might make a commitment to spend some time each day in intentional silence: just sit, relax, and listen to the silence, to ourselves, to world around us and to God. Often we find that as we stop and be silent then our minds begin to work overtime: people, tasks to do or not done, ideas ( using a pen and paper can help). Maybe if we allow time deeper thoughts may begin to surface: old fears, hurts or losses. The Bible speaks of Jesus tempted by the devil. In the silence we may find that old devils continue to haunt us, to affect the way we see ourselves and others, the way we see God.

I well remember looking forward to a class retreat when I was a post-graduate student at General. It had been a long, hard and busy term. But when I got into the silent retreat at Vail's Gate I found myself being overwhelmed by all sorts of old stuff: insecurities, fear of the future, of existential aloneness . It is at such times that we easily identify with Jesus’ wilderness experience. In the silence we encounter ourselves in a fresh way, in a deeper way: perhaps we glimpse the less attractive or darker sides of our personalities, the unresolved issues in our lives. But in the midst of all that we may well encounter God. That retreat I mentioned: I wrestled for something like 36 hours with these inner issues; I sought counsel from the wise nun leading the retreat (she gave me a tape of Mozart to listen to); but on the final night I walked in the glassed-in cloister looking out at the snow-covered landscape bathed in moonlight and found a deep sense of peace. I well remember entering the chapel, lighting a candle and praying with a renewed sense of God’s presence. The Bible tells of Elijah having a like experience. After fleeing into the wilderness for fear of his life, and feeling alone and abandoned by his friends and by God, eventually he was encountered by God in the silence, in “the still small voice”, or as the NRSV so felicitously puts it, “by the sound of sheer silence”.

Formation and testing:

So we see that the silence of the wilderness becomes the place for testing, for temptation, for growth and for formation. Jesus is put to the test in the silence as we also can be, but he endures, he comes through the battle with the Devil and discovers new life and peace beyond as we also can. The children of Israel only reached the Promised Land by journeying through the wilderness. There was no easy road to becoming the people of God. As a reader of war history and especially of the First Great War it is depressing to read of the disastrous battles lead by generals who had little or no experience of battle. They were not tested or tried. They were not prepared for the real thing. An important part of our Lenten journey is spiritual preparation; toughening ourselves up spiritually.

Presence and Encounter:

If the wilderness is a place of formation, of testing, of preparation, it is also a place of encounter, encounter with the living God. Here it is worth saying something about absence and presence and the fine line that can separate them. Ironically it is often the absence of those we love that makes us acutely conscious of them. I think that can also be our experience of God. It is when we think God is not there, that we discover he has been there all the time. That was Elijah’s experience and Job’s; it was the experience of the disciples on the road to Emmaus. “Did not our hearts burn within us”. It was certainly my experience on that retreat: at one time acutely aware of God’s seeming absence, but then overwhelmed by a sense of presence, of closeness, of being “in God”.

Matthew puts this issue of presence, of encounter so beautifully: “and suddenly angels came and waited on him”. Jesus experienced God’s hospitality, his loving embrace, in the wilderness. So in like manner the 5000 were fed in the wilderness by Jesus. So we come to this altar this morning in the midst of our Lent journey, our wilderness experience and are fed with bread and wine, the food of divine presence, the food which is a foretaste of the heavenly banquet.  Amen

Return to "Sermons"