Mountain Spirituality, Stylite Style

During the occasions when I visit St. Thomas Orthodox Church (see my earlier article http://benedictinelutheran.blogspot.com/2013/06/looking-to-east.html), I still act like a good Lutheran, and always sit in the same pew toward the back of the church.  So, I always end up sitting by an icon of St. Simeon the Stylite.  Given my interest in what I have called "mountain spirituality" (see my earlier posts here -
http://benedictinelutheran.blogspot.com/search/label/Mountain%20Spirituality), its perhaps no accident that I sit by St. Simeon.

St. Simeon was a Fifth Century hermit-monk who lived for 37 years on top of a small platform.  He had developed a reputation as a holy man, so many came to him for prayers and advice, but he desired solitude.  So, he ascended to the top of an abandoned pillar in order to live and pray alone.

As you can see in many of the icons depicting St. Simeon, though, he did not achieve his desire for solitude by living on top of the pillar, as many still came to see him. After St. Simeon, others hermits, known as "stylites" followed his ascetic practice of living, praying, and fasting on top of platforms. 

I thought this tradition was unique to the Byzantine period, and was therefore extinct.  To my surprise, I read an article in yesterday's Huffington Post that this ancient tradition is being revived by a monk who lives in the former Soviet republic of Georgia:  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/09/19/katskhi-pillar-monk-georgia-maxime-qavtaradze_n_3950192.html.

The monk, a 59 year old man named Maxime Qavtaradze, spent time in prison during his younger years, but now, like St. Simeon, offers prayers and counsel to people who come to rock to meet him.  But, also like St. Simeon, he lives on the rock because of the solitude:  "It is up here in the silence that you can feel God's presence." 

Additional Reflections on Mountain Spirituality

"Many nations shall come and say: 'Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord.'" (Micah 4:2).

In addition to hiking to the summit of Mount Washburn in Yellowstone National Park, our family had the opportunity to view several other natural landmarks during our family vacation to South Dakota and Wyoming.  During our visit to these places, I was reminded that long before the connection between Christian spirituality and mountains, Native Americans believed that mountains were sacred.

Devils Tower, Wyoming, was famously depicted in the movie "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" as landing pad for alien space ships, but for centuries, multiple tribes have believed that this unique geological formation is sacred. (All pictures were taken by my wife, Jenny, from her iPhone).

In central Wyoming, we encountered the snow capped Bighorn Mountains just before a powerful thunderstorm blew in from the plains.  

Archeological evidence has shown that tribes have used areas in the Bighorn Mountains (particularly the Medicine Wheel on Medicine Mountain) as a place for sacred ceremonies for over 7,000 years.   I wonder if Custer knew how much they cherished the area when he led the Seventh Cavalry of the U.S. Army into the region on his last mission.  In this picture of the monument on top of "Last Stand Hill" you can see a faint image of the Bighorn Mountains on the western horizon,  looming over the site of the Little Bighorn battlefield.

Finally, on our last day of vacation, we drove past Bear Butte, at the edge of the Black Hills near Sturgis, South Dakota. Referred to as Matho-Paha (Bear Mountain) by the Lakota, and Noaha-Vose (Giving Hill) by the Cheyenne, Bear Butte remains a place where members of many tribes make pilgrimages each year.

As a person whose ancestors came from Denmark and Great Britain, I have only a limited perspective on the importance of these mountains to Native Americans.  This vacation, though, will make me think of those mountains while praying Psalms like these during daily prayer:

"I lift up my eyes to the hills— from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth" (Psalm 121:1-2).

"Let the floods clap their hands; let the hills sing together for joy" (Psalm 98:8).

 "In his hand are the depths of the earth; the heights of the mountains are his also" (Psalm 95:4).

Unfortunately, many places that are sacred to Native Americans have been disturbed.  For example, the location of Bear Butte is immediately adjacent to the campground where the famous (infamous?) Sturgis motorcycle rally occurs each year, which makes for an interesting juxtaposition between the sacred and the profane.  Hopefully, in the future, our society will do a better job of respecting places that are considered to be holy ground.     
 

Mountain Spirituality

During our family vacation to Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming, we hiked up Mount Washburn, elevation 10, 243 feet (3,122 meters).  It is one of the highest points in Yellowstone, offering spectacular vistas of the area, with snow capped peaks visible in all directions.

While I am not an avid mountain hiker (living in Iowa makes that somewhat difficult), I do enjoy day hikes to mountain summits whenever I can.  While I understand that God is not limited to being "up there" somewhere, when you are on top of a mountain, it nevertheless feels like you are closer to God.

My mountain spirituality is not unique.  Mountainous areas have been the home of monks for centuries.  Pope Celestine V (the monastic Pope who set the precedent for Pope Benedict XVI's resignation) preferred the mountains of Italy to the city of Rome.

The world's oldest monastery, St. Catherine's, is at the base of Mount Sinai in Egypt.

And, of course, the world's largest grouping of monks is found at the monasteries on Mount Athos in Greece.

So, while I may not have been closer to God in a literal sense on the top of Mount Washburn, perhaps I was closer to God in other ways.  At the top of a mountain, you get an entirely unique perspective on God's creation.  On the one hand, you see how beautiful, intricate, and vast it is.  On the other hand, you see how fragile it is - for example, there are still many areas where the damage done from the 1988 Yellowstone fires are still visibly apparent, 25 years later.

The other sense of closeness to God after an ascent typically comes from the solitude at the top, and I suspect the monks of the mountains have gone there in search of that solitude.  That kind of sheer solitude escaped me on Mount Washburn, as there were other hikers present, but compared to the rest of Yellowstone, which was filled with tourists, there was a sense of being alone with God at times.

So, I hope that as I continue along this path of Benedictine, contemplative spirituality, many more mountain hikes will be in store for me.