Finding Your Desert in the World
By, Anna Laughery
The world is a busy, loud, and sometimes overwhelming place. Introverts and extroverts alike would likely agree on this. With phones buzzing, people yelling, and a million and one things always demanding our attention, it can seem impossible to find a moment of silence. Though silence can be intimidating, both Christians and non-believers admit that regular times of silence can be beneficial. In August 2020, the Cleveland Medical Clinic discovered many health benefits from periods of silence including blood pressure decrease and the reduction of muscle tension. Piedmont Healthcare published a similar article and relayed the emotional and mental benefits of silence, such as clarity and better decision making. Though these scientific studies are fascinating, as Christians we don’t need healthcare providers to tell us we should spend time in silence and solitude. We have the example of our Lord and the example of the Christians who lived before us to show us that we should be silent. The world agrees on the why of silence, acknowledging it is good for the body, soul, and mind; but the tricky thing in these days of distraction isn’t the why, it’s the how.
In the Gospels, Jesus gave us an imitable example on how to find time for silence and how to spend that time. Luke 5:16 tells us that Jesus would often “withdraw to deserted places and pray.” Matthew 14:22 gives us another example, saying, “After he had dismissed the crowds, he went up to the mountain by himself to pray.” In fact, all four of the Gospels show us one, if not many, instances of Jesus removing himself from his ministry to take times of silent prayer; here, Jesus shows us how important it is to remove ourselves from distractions. He went to deserted places to find his place to pray. Though there aren’t as many wildernesses around us as there were in first century Israel, we can transform our bedrooms, a quiet chapel, or a walk in the woods into a deserted place if we choose. It is as easy as turning our phones off and putting our computers away.
Another important lesson from Jesus’ method of finding his desert is dismissing the crowds. As Christians, and especially as women, we can have the mindset that we need to be available at all times to all people so that we are always ready to be of service to someone in need. Jesus, too, was always ready to help those who needed him, but that didn’t stop him from sending people away. He didn’t send the crowds away out of irritation, but from true charity—a charity which recognizes the primacy of union with God. Our Lord shows us that if we don’t take time away from others to be with God alone, we will only get burnt out from giving out of an empty cup. Time alone with the Lord allows us to be filled by him—filled with his Spirit, wisdom, and love. This invaluable time of communion with God rejuvenates us so that when we return to the crowds we return with a full cup, ready again to pour ourselves out for those in need. Like Jesus, we need to lovingly dismiss the crowds in our lives, whether that is a friend, a spouse, a parent, or even a job, for short times every day so that we are able to give fully when we return to them.
The Christian tradition is full of holy men and women who imitated Jesus’ examples and went into the desert, whether literally or figuratively, to find the Lord. The most prominent of these figures are the Desert Mothers and Fathers. Women like Mary of Egypt or Melania the Elder and men like Antony of the Desert or Athanasius of Alexandria gave up everything in the world, with all its pleasures and temptations, to spend their lives praying, fasting, and doing penance. Like Jesus, they dismissed the crowd and pursued the Lord in solitude and they too can show us the how of finding silence in our own deserts.
One of the most important lessons we can learn from the Desert Mothers and Fathers is their emphasis on fasting and penance. These radical individuals did crazy things like not eating for months and surviving only on the Eucharist or living on top of small pillars. Though these extreme examples aren’t practical for our own lives, there are many little ways we can imitate them. Take their constant Eucharistic fast for example: we could try to not eat anything in the morning before going to Mass and receiving our Lord in the Eucharist, instead of only abstaining from eating the hour prior. Or, instead of living on a stone pillar, we could simplify our own bedrooms or sleep without a pillow once a week. Though the world is a distracting place, the example of penance and sacrifice given by the Desert Mothers and Fathers can make our times of silence more prayerful.
When I meditate on the example of how Jesus and the Desert Mothers and Fathers left everything and went into the desert, I always struggle internally. I know there are so many good things we can learn from them, but I can’t leave everything and move to the desert of Arizona or the wilderness of Canada. I have a job, people I love, and responsibilities. But recently, I discovered two more women from the Christian tradition whose example gave me hope for my own pursuit of the desert. They found their desert without ever leaving the obligations of their own lives and showed me how I can do the same.
The first of these is a French laywoman named Madeleine Delbrêl. Delbrêl lived in the early 20th century and, though she never entered a religious order, she truly was a monastic of the streets. She had a job, friends, and a social life, among other responsibilities, but she never took her eyes off the Lord. She viewed her work on the streets and in the government of her local city as her desert. In her book We the Ordinary People of the Streets she wrote, “The same Spirit that leads our white-robed brothers and sisters into their deserts, also leads our beating heart down the turbulent stairways, into the subways, and up again to the darkened streets.” Her desert was a desert of people, not a desert of sand; ultimately, she found God in the desolation of the society around her. Delbrêl removed herself from the crowds as well, taking time daily to devote herself to Scripture. Throughout her book she emphasizes the necessity of a deep familiarity with the Word of God, which she gained through silent meditation on the Bible. We can imitate her example through daily lectio divina and, like Madeleine Delbrêl, find our desert in the midst of the world.
The second of these women is an eastern Orthodox sister named Maria Skobotsova. As a Russian immigrant who moved to Paris, Skobotsova lived her life as a sister in the middle of a bustling city. She, too, had many commitments, but she fulfilled those tasks in union with Christ, showing that one can rest in the desert while living in the world. She saw the brokenness of the city and, in response, wrote that the world “[N]eeds a strong army. That army is monasticism.” The monasticism Skobotsova writes about here is not a cloistered monasticism, rather a monasticism that brings individuals who live in the world into union with Christ.
Although in their day-to-day actions, Jesus, the Desert Father and Mothers, Madeleine Delbrêl and Maria Skobotsova all lived radically different lives, they were all monastics in the truest sense of the word. They found their deserts—whether that was a physical desert, the silent brokenness of their own hearts, or the world around them—and it was there they pursued union with God. We can imitate their examples and retreat into the desert as well, but without having to leave the world. To accomplish this, we must root ourselves in silent prayer, fasting, and penance like the Desert Mothers and Fathers. Approaching the world around us, from the streets to the mundanity of our jobs, as an opportunity to find union with God will aid us in finding the desert within our own hearts.
