Food in the Wilderness
Hiking at Ghost Ranch, New Mexico, November 1998, Kodachrome 64 slide.
Sermon Series “Through the Bible,” № 35.
Mortals ate of the bread of angels; he sent them food in abundance. –Psalm 78:25
I like to think I’m a reasonably good planner and organizer. But nothing I’ve done measures up to the work of Chris Bonington, leader of a 1974 expedition to Mount Everest.[1] Planning the first ascent of the mountain’s difficult north face, Bonington began with a clear vision of the goal. In his mind’s eye, he saw that in the early days of the month of May, during a brief window between intense winter cold and windy summer monsoons, two men would leave Camp six for a one day round trip to the summit at over 29,000 feet. Working backwards in time, Bonington recognized that it would take eight men to carry the necessary gear and supplies from camp five to camp six, in order to prepare it for the final assault. He had to take into account the fact that the eight men would have to carry enough for six of them to make a round trip from camp five to camp six, and for two of them to make a round trip to the summit. He had to plan for the weight of each individual's load to decrease as the altitude increased, and oxygen supply diminished. He had to supply detailed lists, so that at camp six, everything could be repacked for the next step.
Each stage lower in the trip would provide an increasingly complex planning puzzle: 24 men to supply camp five; 72 men to supply camp 4, 3, and 2; more than 100 men plus oxen to staff base camp. And in the beginning, many months before the final summit climb, several semi-truck/trailer rigs would be loaded to take the provisions from Europe across Asia to Nepal. One bad cooking stove or faulty oxygen filter could threaten the success of the entire expedition. If you’ve had trouble packing luggage for a trip, then you can appreciate the enormity and complexity of Bonington’s plans.
I was reminded of Bonington’s story while reading the 78th Psalm, which is a meditation on the history of Israel, during their time in the wilderness. Compared to Chris Bonington, their leader Moses worked with serious disadvantages. Chris Bonington was a seasoned expedition leader, who chose to undertake this great adventure, who had the luxury of wealthy sponsors and months of preparation time. But we have no evidence that Moses had ever led groups before the Exodus from Egypt. He undertook the task reluctantly, with no support from the nation he was leaving. Moving hundreds of thousands of people across a relatively barren wilderness created many challenges for securing water and food, creating cooking facilities. Little wonder then that the Hebrew men complained, saying, “Can God spread a table in the wilderness?”
The Hebrews longed for the food of Egypt. Backpackers will tell you they have felt the same way during long trips. There is a natural fear of running out of good food when the nearest grocery store is far away. There is an almost irresistible temptation is to bring more food than anyone could consume before it spoils, and to bring types of foods completely inappropriate for the context.
Seasoned hikers will tell you there is a big difference between food for home and food for wilderness travel. At home, much of our food already has water in it. In the backcountry, almost everything is brought in dry, and water boiled or filtered from a lake, stream, or snowpack is added during preparation for cooking. Dry food, besides being lighter, is far more compact. A bag about the size of a football or fanny pack can easily carry enough dry food for three days.
Scripture tells us that God supplied just the right backcountry food for the Hebrews -- they called it “manna.” Some scholars suggest that the manna was the white secretion of the tamarisk tree, which grows in the desert of Sinai. When the secretions dry on stone, they become white and flaky, something like dried potato flakes. Perhaps tamarisk flour, mixed with water, and formed into paste or cakes, fed the Israelites in their wilderness wandering.
There is a life lesson in all this that is often repeated by preachers, but easily forgotten. The Hebrews didn’t get what they wanted. But they received exactly what they needed to keep them alive. Sometimes that’s the way it is for us, because “wilderness” isn’t just a geographical category, but also a spiritual one. The wilderness is the stretch of ground between one chapter of life and the next, a place that feels draining, even like a valley of death. The wilderness is not a place we would choose to be; rather, it’s a place we must travel if we are to experience life again.
Perhaps a health problem places you in the wilderness. In order to move from the place of oppression to a new place of freedom, you must endure a hospital stay. You wonder, “Can God spread a table in the wilderness? Can God really do anything to help me?
I think of a person who is experiencing this kind of wilderness. One problem turned into another, and there are more difficult valleys than ever anticipated. Yet, in this terrible place in life, this individual recognizes that God is present and working. A family member says, “When you have everything, you appreciate nothing. But when you have nothing, you appreciate everything.”
This family bears witness to an important truth. In Egypt, where you have all your material comforts attended to, your mind can be very distracted with all kinds of issues that don't really matter all that much in the long run. But when you're in the wilderness, where you have very little, you recognize what is truly important. You appreciate every little bit that you have.
I don’t wish wilderness experiences on anyone. But, if you’re going to be in one anyway, you might notice how time in the wilderness helps you to see small common gifts of everyday life as something special. It helps us to see the grace of God in things that seem, at first glance, to be punishments rather than gifts, ugly rather than beautiful.
Thirty years ago, on my first trip to New Mexico, I was not impressed. It was hot, it was dry, it was dusty. The trees were sparse, the landscape barren, the water widely separated by large expanses of rock. Not too long after that, I had opportunity to attend a couple different workshops at Ghost Ranch, our Presbyterian conference center in New Mexico. After a few days, I began to see things differently. What had seemed to be only barren rock began to be transformed by the changing light from dawn to dush. I got acquainted with different forms, textures, and colors in my surroundings. I saw life in rocky places I hadn’t noticed before.
My workshop leader from those days, a newspaper columnist named Ina Hughs, wrote a piece about the way her perspective of New Mexico was transformed. In it, she says she laments the food of New Mexico. It always gives her a bad case of indigestion. When she leaves after visits, she doesn't want to see another bean for weeks.
She doesn’t like the food, but she fell in love with the wilderness. She describes it this way: “Flying low over the Sandia peaks into Albuquerque, where dry desert meets evergreen forest in a line so clearly marked it looks like pages out of a coloring book; watching the earth flex its muscles in mesas stretched as far as the eye can see -- you might as well forget trying to hold on to your heart. I've seen stars do all their tricks: shine, fall, go in, come out, rise, fade, wink, blink . . . . I once set my tripod atop Kitchen Mesa at 4 a.m., and there in the high desert night aimed my camera at the Milky Way for a 45-minute time exposure. It's the closest I'll ever get to having a picture of God."[2]
Again, I don’t wish wilderness experiences on anyone. But if you find yourself in a wilderness experience anyway, perhaps it's worth considering that you’re not there for the lousy food, but rather for what you can see from this new point of view. Along the wilderness path, may you discover what Moses and the Israelites did: that God provides nourishment, despite the unpleasantness. And may you learn to appreciate the gift of life in a different, deeper, fuller way.
NOTES
[1] See Chris Bonington, Everest: The Hard Way, 1975. In this book recording the first ascent of Everest's north face, a large section is devoted to detailing the provisioning for the journey.
[2] Ina Hughs, “Love affair with New Mexico is one bean short of perfect,” Knoxville News-Sentinal.com, 16 Nov. 1998
READ MORE, https://www.fpcedw.org/blog
