“I Rest In The Grace Of The World, And Am Free”

I grew up in Manchester, NH in a pretty urban neighborhood (urban by NH standards!) and we did not have a big back yard. But in the yard was a beautiful maple tree that was a place of refuge for me. I remember climbing as high up in the tree as I could and I would be able to see pretty far onto the west side of Manchester where my dad grew up (which was the French-Canadian enclave of Manchester). I just felt safe and secure in that tree – like nothing in the world could touch me up there.

Maybe you had a place like this when you were young as well – somewhere that you went for refuge of some kind. Maybe you have one of those places now as well.

As we gear up for Holy Week, our readings are showing us the escalation of hostilities and we feel the emotional tone shifting.

The reading from Jeremiah 20 describes the prophet feeling more and more alone and isolated. Even former friends have turned on him related to his message and presence, and the intent to do him harm is palpable.

Then in the gospel from John 10, the crowd actually picks up stones in order to throw at Jesus for his “blasphemy.” He tries to reason with them and turn the conversation, but they are hell-bent on persecution and punishment. They try to arrest him but he slips out of their grasp – knowing that in the future he may not be so fortunate.

Then the gospel writer tells us that Jesus “went back across the Jordan to the place where John first baptized, and there he remained.” [Note: One could also use the word abide for the word remained. In either case, it means a place of trust and close relationship as well as a dwelling place.]

Jesus returned to the wilderness where he first encountered John and where this journey all started. He went to a place where he felt safe. He needed a refuge.

In my work as a counselor, I hear so many stories from people about how the natural world has provided refuge for people. Maybe it was a forest or a park. It might have been a river, lake or other body of water. Sometimes it was a special tree or grassy field. Sometimes it was just looking up at the sky – taking in the clouds or stars. But something about that place put us at ease. Something about it helped us feel “at home.” Somehow the natural world wrapped its arms around us there and helped us to feel safe and loved.

In times such as these, we all need places where we can abide or remain and remember who we are. We need to remember our interconnection in a time of disconnection. We need to remember reciprocity in a time of hostility. We need to remember belonging in a time of othering. The wilderness (nature) directly helps us do that.

I also know that not everybody has the ability to get outside or be in the wilderness. That’s OK. I have seen research that shows that just looking at pictures of wilderness scenes, listening to the sounds of nature (running water, crickets, ocean sounds) or even imagining an outdoor environment has benefits for our health and mental health. Even looking out a window at a tree outside helps us!

But Jesus’ return to a “wild” place may not have just been a refuge thing. A growing number of scholars assert that Jesus originally went into the wilderness (apprenticing himself with his cousin John the Baptist) – to “remember” what wild felt and looked like and to reconnect with an undomesticated God that he called Abba.

And so he goes back again because he will need to remain steady and focused as he prepares for what is to come. He’ll actually go to the garden of Gethsemane for one last refuge before he is arrested – a garden being his last place as a free man.

I often return to Wendell Berry’s profound poem, The Peace of Wild Things. In it he says,

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

In these troubled times, when “despair for the world” might grow in us, may we all find a space of refuge, remember who we are and “rest in the grace of the world” and be free.