Starting in the 3^rd century CE, early Christians (lay and clergy, mostly men but some women) began moving out of the Roman empire’s urban areas and into the deserts and wilderness spaces of Egypt and the Near East. They lived alone or in small communes, adopted extremely simple lifestyles (poverty essentially), and committed themselves to spend most of their time in prayer and reading scripture. They were inspired by gospel stories such as this in Mark 1: “In the morning, while it was still very dark, Jesus got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed.” Their experience would eventually lead to the monastic movement of the Middle Ages.

They came to be known as the desert fathers and mothers (or abbas and ammas). Soon their teachings and writings became popular and circulated widely. They came to be seen as teachers of profound spiritual wisdom. As a result, people went out into the wilderness to be with them and to learn from them. Writings by and about them have remained available ever since, gaining renewed popularity in recent years with the growing interest in spirituality and spiritual practices.

Ironically, the retreat of these early Christians was, at least in part, a response to the growing acceptance of Christianity in Roman society. As Christianity went “mainstream”, some of its followers felt it was also being watered down. They saw the church’s priorities becoming skewed and the values of the empire seeping into the lives of Christians. To protect their faith and preserve their practices as followers of Jesus, such people traveled as far as they could away from what they believed were Rome’s corrupting influences.

Last week, the theme of Richard Rohr’s daily meditations was “Wisdom of the Desert.” (Rohr is a Franciscan priest, bestselling author, and founder of the Center for Action and Contemplation in Albuquerque, New Mexico.) Each day’s readings focused on the desert fathers and mothers and the nature and value of the spiritual experience of the desert. For Rohr, they shine a light for us today on how to live fully yet simply in our often confusing and complicated world.

The desert Christians emphasized lifestyle practice, an alternative to empires and their economies, psychologically astute methods of prayer, and a very simple spirituality of transformation into Christ. The desert communities grew out of informal gatherings of monastics and functioned much like families. This tradition preceded the emergence of systematic theology and the later Church councils. Since the desert monks often lacked formal education, they told stories, much as Jesus did, to teach about ego, love, virtue, surrender, peace, divine union, and inner freedom.

We are all aware of how a dominating culture can take control of our minds by implanting its values, standards, rules of behavior, ways of thinking, and so on. This may seem like a recent phenomenon but it has been true throughout history. The desert Christians experienced this when they lived in the cities and towns of the Roman empire. Moving into the wilderness made it possible to reset their minds and recenter themselves on a life in Christ, as Paul calls it. Rohr quotes Presbyterian spirituality teacher Belden Lane on how this worked in practice.

What do you learn to ignore and what do you learn to love? What needs to die in your life and what do you need to affirm unreservedly? These two questions are the heart of desert spirituality. The desert becomes a tomb, said the monks, a place for the demise of the ego. But there’s also an immense joy and release in that, in learning to die before you die. You’re finally set free to live with abandon. No one is freer than those who have looked death in the eye, have walked through the fire, and are able now fearlessly to love.

Modern culture doesn’t want us to think or reflect. It wants us to react and respond to its push and pull on our emotions, on our fears and desires. In solitude, however, we can both shut out culture’s influence and reconnect with our true self, our heart, the inner awareness of our conscious being. But as Rohr says, solitude doesn’t require a cave in the desert.

How do we find inner freedom?… Peace of mind is an oxymoron. When we’re in our mind, we’re hardly ever at peace; when we’re at peace, we’re never only in our mind. The early Christian abbas and ammas knew this and first insisted on finding the inner rest and quiet necessary to tame the obsessive mind….  

By solitude, the desert mystics didn’t mean mere privacy or protected space, although there is a need for that too. The desert mystics saw solitude, in Henri Nouwen’s words, as “the place of conversion, the place where the old self dies and the new self is born, the place where the emergence of the new man and the new woman occurs.” Solitude is a courageous encounter with our naked, most raw and real self, in the presence of pure love. Quite often this can happen right in the midst of human relationships and busy lives.  

“Peace of mind is an oxymoron.” Millions of us were reminded of that by the global tumult of last week. Our minds were full of news stories of dramatic arcane financial events which even the experts didn’t seem to understand, which made them all the more concerning. But this was only the latest in a string of bizarre and worrisome political and economic developments over the past few months.

It’s tempting to believe something will happen, or someone will come along, to calm our troubled waters. I think this is unlikely in the short term and possibly the long. In any case, we certainly can’t plan on it. What, then, do we do about our inner turmoil: in our chest, in our stomach, in our head?

The ancient desert Christians point to an answer. They believed that true peace was not something discovered or achieved but found already within us. They believed in what Paul described as “the peace that surpasses all understanding.” This was the peace of Christ, the biblical shalom, a peace that is always present within us but often, perhaps usually, obscured by the agitations of our mind.

These ancient Christians went into the desert not because they believed that was where peace was to be found. Rather, they went so that, separated from the tumult of their world, they could more easily find the peace already present inside them. Others then followed, not to join the abbas and ammas, but to learn from them how they could know this peace for themselves.

Experiencing true peace doesn’t require moving to a cabin in the woods. Or, conversely, as author Robert Pirsig says in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, the only Zen you find at the top of a mountain is the Zen you’ve brought with you. Physical location may or may not help us in finding peace. But ultimately, peace is found when we establish a “desert” place within us. A place of simplicity where the distractions and enticements of the world are held at bay. Where we may be aware of the noise and flashing images around us but our attention is focused elsewhere, on an inner wholeness that is darkness to the world but is actually a light of truth and love.

The media and many of those around us want us to join them in their obsessions with the Washington soap opera, the Wall Street roller coaster, and the nonstop celebrity circus. Sometimes there will be “serious issues” involved, and in most of those cases, there will be nothing we can do except fret and fume. To view them from our “spiritual desert”, however, puts the world’s turmoil in a new perspective. Indeed, “the world” takes on a whole new meaning. And, we come to realize that our genuine contribution to it is to be a place of calm in the storm, and a light shining in the darkness.

If you appreciate these posts, remember to “Like”, share, and subscribe, if you haven’t done so already. In the mystical world of search algorithms, this all helps “spread the word.” And add a comment, if you’re so moved, to be part of the conversation. Finally, thank you for your financial support (see the “DONATE” box), which covers blog expenses and helps me to keep doing this.