Your Neighbor - the Wilderness
I recently (March, 2022) was invited to offer a reflection at a gathering of Baptist pastors about what I do and why I do it. Below is the reflection:
Matthew 22:36-40 – “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” He said to him, “’You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and the first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.” (NRSV)
In this teaching found in the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus is not offering something new. He is not giving a radical new law or sense of how to be a devoted individual, shocking the world from their curmudgeoned slumber. In this passage as well as in others (notable Luke 10 where Jesus offers the parable of the Good Samaritan) we are reminded of the two great commandments – love God and love others. We remember that Jesus is echoing and calling to attention something that has been a key part of the Jewish tradition. Jesus is pulling from the Levitical and Deuteronomic texts and giving the key, the basics that one needs to consider oneself good or holy or a true follower of God. This is important, and we should note that Jesus is not the only one to have offered this quick and yet profound shorthand of the Hebrew Scriptures. It is a teaching that resonates throughout the history of the Abrahamic faith traditions. So, I will ask us to look at it again and consider again the implications that such a teaching has on us today.
In this reflection I will not spend much time on the dictate to love the Lord your God with all that you are, but leave that to other theologians and mystics to wrestle with. Instead I will join the chorus of people wondering and questioning, “but who is my neighbor?” with a focus on creation and the environment.
Such a seemingly simple question never has easy answers. It is a question that pushes us, that leads us to consider those who live on the other side of town or the other side of the world. It leads us to consider those who look differently than we do, who speak differently, who live differently and to embrace them not as “those people” but as our neighbors whom we love. It is a question that we should grapple with as we wake and use as a discerning tool for how the day went as we lay down to sleep. It is a living question that has such breath that I cannot speak to the totalizing implications of it just one reflection. Rather, I want to call us to consider one potential aspect of who our neighbor might be in considering creation itself. I am inviting you to consider the birds and the bees, the dirt and the sun, the trees and the flowers and all else within creation as your neighbor. What if creation itself is our neighbor?
First, I am not suggesting that we personify nature or strive to speak or write about nature in an anthropomorphic way. It may be helpful to you, but I do not spend time naming the trees Bill or Sue or Fred. I do not treat the birds or the chipmunks as if they have human qualities. I talk to them, but I do not expect a response on the same level. I am not looking to create a deity in “mother nature” to dance with, speak to, or to have a relationship with. Yet I do believe we can have a relationship with nature. I would argue that we already do have a relationship with nature whether we like it or not. Once you put on a jacket before going outside, or you curse the sun’s heat or run through the rain you are relating to and with nature. Part of the challenge is that for many of us our relationship with nature is a passive. It is one that happens or that becomes a relationship that we just have to deal with but not one that is deliberate. We know that nature is there, we know that we are going to have to deal with nature, but we avoid making eye-contact so that we are not faced with an uncomfortable situation.
What I think many of us have done is established a relationship with creation that models itself after Robert Frost’s line from “Mending Wall.” “Good fences make good neighbors.” And although we have done with Frost’s line as many have done with scripture – taken it completely out of context and projected a meaning upon it that fits what we want – the line speaks in part to many of our relationships with our neighbor and with creation.
Think about the neighbor that you nod to from across the way, that you may wave at through the fence. Think about the neighbor who is very similar to “Wilson” from Home Improvement of whom we only see his eyes and the top of his head. This is the depth for many of us in our relationships with our neighbor in our close proximity and beyond. We know their name, we know where they live, but do we know about their struggles, their joys, or the depth of their lives? How well do we know our neighbor? And for today, how well do we know creation.
This musing is not intended to be one that looks at the fragmentation, tribalization, and individualization of our culture (and that could be its own reflection for sure), but more on our distance in our relationship with nature. It has been the practice of an evolving human society to create a relationship with nature that keeps creation at an arm’s length. We do what we can to control our environment, living in places where humans were not meant to live (see Las Vegas or Florida), and forcing and shaping creation into a comfortable context in which we can thrive. Climate control is all one needs to consider. We have created our walls, not mending our relationship with creation but instead separating, dividing, and shaping our relationship with creation so that we may be comfortable. And thus, we do not know our neighbor. We know enough to say that it is hot or cold or wet or dry, but not enough to speak to the experience of being in the wilderness. And I would argue because we do not have good sense of creation, when it is left at the side of the road, beaten and robbed and left hanging near death, the majority of us walk by, not even able to see the wounds that have been inflicted. So, if you grant me the naming of creation as a neighbor that we are to be in good relationship with, I would claim that the majority of us have a distant (at best) or a destructive (at worst) relationship with creation.
Immersion
We are Baptists. This means that we profess the importance of immersion, of plunging, of getting fully wet. We do not sprinkle because one does not die and rise with Christ through a tepid shower experience. We go all the way in, we allow the waters to go over us, allowing the tomb to be closed upon us, and then break through the veil of death, rising anew with Christ. And before we even make such a leap into the waters of new life, we have embraced the Holy Spirit, asked to be baptized in the Spirit, and are made new through the Spirit. We do not step gingerly in our commitment (or at least symbolically), but instead step fully into the life that Christ calls us to embrace. This has been a part of the history and the story of our witness in our faith.
And there have been many examples of Baptists who have continued such an approach in their lives, moving beyond the immersion of Baptism to the immersion of call and commitment to serving Christ. Joanna P. Moore saw the need to teach recently black men and women, but not in a correspondence class. She was determined to live with them, to be a part of the community. She immersed herself among the people. Virginia Broughton, wanted to teach and share the Bible with others in her community, and when starting Bible schools for people of her own community did not just send out other teachers but would ride for as much as 50 miles to teach and to help people learn the stories of the scriptures. We have, in our history and today, examples of individuals immersing themselves in the ministry to which they have been called.
I would suggest that our Baptismal practice offers us a way of knowing the neighbor. Thus, if we believe that we are to love our neighbor, and if we believe that creation itself is a neighbor we are to love, then we need to know and understand our neighbor. And rather than a comfortable and non-threatening sprinkling of a wilderness experience, I would suggest that we need to be immersed into a wilderness experience.
I am not suggesting that one runs off naked into the woods to roll in the mud – that is weird. Yet I am suggesting that one puts oneself at a place of vulnerability and risk. I am suggesting that one goes to a place where they are not comfortable, where they do not feel in control, and even if it is to a slight degree, feels some level of risk. This is a part of the immersion experience. When you enter the home of someone else you are agreeing to accept the thermoset setting, to accept the presence of domesticated animals, to eat what is put before you, and to place yourself in their care, trusting that they are not serial killers or (even worse) well-meaning liberals who will eat your brains (thank you Get Out). Here is the way that I try to immerse myself and others into the wilderness:
We bring what we need to so that we will be safe. This includes shelter, food, and clothing. We bring what we need to so that we can get by, but we will not be completely comfortable. We have to accept the environment as it happens. If it rains, you walk in the rain and you get wet. And you hope your tent doesn’t leak. If it is hot you make sure to drink a lot of liquids, you keep your activity down during the height of the heat, but you still get through the day. If the bugs are out, then you slather yourself with lotions, oils, scents, and, if you are brave, chemicals that are meant to mask your presence and even repulse you from the winged pests. If it is really bad, and I have been in the really bad, you wear a net. You learn to deal with mice and chipmunks visiting you in a needy and expectant fashion while you are eating, yelling at them and moving to a different place when needed. You get a sense of where the bears might be and how you avoid them. The water might be cold, the trail will be muddy, and the views may or may not be present. This is part of the experience. You cannot control it. You cannot force it. You have to learn to live with what nature offers you, to roll with the weather good and bad and indifferent and reminding yourself to not take it personally. And after four-straight days of rain it gets hard to not take it personally.
The thing with being in and engaging the wilderness is that not only are you experiencing the fullness of the wilderness with all of the challenges and difficulties, but you are also experiencing the wilderness with all of the blessings and moments of serenity. I was doing a trip with a friend of mine where we decided to hike about 6-7 miles to a place that I love in the Adirondack Mountains. The hike was not easy as we had full backpacks, we had to go over and around boulders, up and down the sides of mountains, and finally through a swamp with no boards or bridges to keep our feet dry. When we finally got to our destination we found ourselves sitting on a beach next to a slow-moving stream. My friend, still sore and hurting from the backpack, still recovering from the strain said to me, “I don’t know if I like backpacking.” Up to that point all of his hikes had been with a day-pack. I encouraged him to look around. We were sitting on a beach, surrounded by tall, green meadow grass and beyond them mountains all around us. There were no signs of humanity. No power lines, no roads, no structures, just the mountains and open skies. And the sun was starting to set behind some of those mountains, painting the orange and red colors before us. It was a moment that demanded silence, that demanded a pause. After we listed to the silence and looked at all before us I encouraged my friend to realize where we were. We were in a place, witnessing a beauty that you could not find with a car. We were experiencing a peace and a stillness that you would not find at any roadside vista place. Yes, it cost something. Yes, it was difficult, but the immersion also led to a blessing.
When going up mountains someone almost always suggests that an elevator or escalator or a helicopter would be great to get to the top of the mountain. It speaks to a desire to avoid the strain and the struggle and to just get to the reward of the summit vistas. Yet the view would not be as powerful. The experience would be hollow. But when you hurt and struggle, when you push yourself, and you are immersed in the wilderness experience, then the moment you achieve the summit has a depth and profound experience that cannot be replicated with any machine. This is a baptism of the wilderness that is a blessing.
I try to encourage an honest engagement with the wilderness, with all of the hurts and the blessings. And isn’t this what we want in so many of our relationships -honesty? We look for that honest presentation, that honest sharing, that honesty that speaks to an authenticity and vulnerability.
In the moment of baptism, we shed ourselves of the trappings of the world, and maybe don a white robe or just the bare minimum of a tee shirt and a bathing suit. We then let go and fall backwards into the water, letting the water impact and change us in a real way. We let go and fall into the grace of God, showing ourselves in an honest way. And we emerge from the waters not just wet, but changed. This is what I am advocating with our relationships with all, including with the wilderness. Fully knowing and experiencing the neighbor.
Growth and Healthy Relationships
It is interesting to note the ways that our relationship with God grows through our relationships with others. While we cling to the ideals of soul freedom, there is a danger in Baptist (and Protestant) life that this leads to a radical individualism which I would argue is antithetical to Christianity. I understand the challenge of saying this while I also say at the same time how much I love going in the wilderness, especially alone. I love my solo hikes, but I engage in them for the sake of being better in the community. In the wilderness I am able to experience God differently and that informs my relationship with God as I work with others. In the wilderness we engage with others differently and that also informs how we can be present in the world. And that may come from our immersion in the wilderness.
There is a hospitality and community that exists in the wilderness. Multiple times I have had the opportunity to share a shelter/leanto with a stranger and ended up making wonderful friends through just one evening. We share a living space, we share the experience of the bugs or the heat or the rain, and ultimately (or ideally) we break bread together. It is good. I have made a practice of inviting people who are tenting in shared area to have supper together. There is a community beyond strangers and strangeness that can be found in the wilderness; an instant intimacy that is deep and profound because of our shared experience of the wilderness. Even the brief moment of sharing on a trail, of enjoying a view together, or a moment of challenge or difficulty creates a community. Don’t get me wrong, there are assholes on the trail but not as many as one might think. The division and separation is not as great or instilled as one finds in the front country. The community that one finds in the wilderness is impacted by the experience of the wilderness.
When I’m with a group, the way that we have to be together and take care of each other is enhanced as well. The group is usually small, and everyone needs to pitch in, to help out, and to make sure that everyone is ok. It is not a circumstance where only 20% of the group does 80% of the work because those 20% will not survive. Everyone is struggling together. Everyone helps to make sure the meal will be ok, to make sure the slowest is safe, and to make sure that all are getting by. We have to lean on each other, walk with each other, wait for each other and that is good.
And the awareness of God is deepened. It is deepened in part because in the wilderness we see the nature of God as creator in a more pure and honest way. In the front country we encounter concrete, steel, and plastic. We encounter the creator through the impact and shaping of humanity. We have sterilized and made safe God’s creative presence through our modern comforts. Yet in nature we have to walk over or under the trees. We have to deal with the water that floods the trail or the heat that has no shade. And in the midst of the raging storm and the amazing sunset we are moved to ask what these moments say about God. We are moved to wonder about the nature of the creator and then to contemplate the miracle that with such power and wonder that God loves us. Ah, but it is not my role to preach, so I will hold back.
Just as God’s love is revealed in part through individuals and their actions, God’s personhood and nature and love is also reveled in the wilderness, but especially in the way that we interact in the wilderness. This experience impacts how I am with others in the “front country.” I recognize that from a sense of vulnerability comes a potential intimacy that makes church life better. I realize that in taking risks with others comes a way of enjoying a deeper relationality. I bring this awareness of relationality, of vulnerability, and of sharing from the wilderness into the church and society. My relationship with creation impacts and informs my relationships with others.
So What
The theme of this gathering is about taking care, and specifically for this session about taking care of the environment. I have not offered any pathway of advocacy or any sense of how you can change your lifestyle and encourage others to change the ways that they live for the sake of the environment. Let me be clear, these responses that lead to life-changes and advocacy are essential. We urgently need to do things differently as a culture and as individuals and we do not have time to hem and haw about moderation and small changes. What I am reminding us all that our work for the sake of creation, nature, the environment, is not something that we should do from afar. Well-meaning Christians have often fallen into a place of trying to make a difference by sending money to problems, but keeping distant and not getting directly involved. This will not be good enough because or attention span is flawed, limited, and we will lose interest and energy. And we are all already involved. We can and should push for systemic change as well as personal change, but we need to stay in an active relationship with wilderness. We need to remember why it is so important and keep our humility in our engagement. We need to have a living and participatory relationship with creation not only because of all of the reasons that I have already mentioned, but also because it is through an active relationship that we are compelled to work to make a difference and to push for change.
How can you get to know creation? Of course, you can talk to me and the ministry I am starting, but you can do something where you are. If it is an afternoon in a park or a week in the backcountry, you need to have a real relationship with what it is that you are trying to help and care for. Get outside and be impacted by the good and the bad of the environment. Learn about the trees and then witness them going through the cycles and stages of life. Do the hard work to see the birds and the chipmunks where they, and in a way that does not negatively impact their life (don’t feed the wildlife!). We need to immerse ourselves into the wilderness so we can be reminded why it is so important that we care for it. And then, in an effort to love our neighbor, we need to no longer go to the other side of the road, but instead to stop and act.