Psalm 62:3

the joy of the desert

In a desert land, and where there is no way, and no water: so in the sanctuary have I come before thee, to see thy power and thy glory. (Psalm 62:3 DR)

One of the most interesting if unexpected fruits of early Christianity was the flourishing of the monastic life, particularly of those who went off into the desert. Even before Christianity had become legalized in the Roman Empire and the persecutions had (for the most part) stopped, there was a desire on the part of some to partake of the spirit of the martyrs, even though a red martyrdom was not always to be found. This prompted some intrepid individuals to forsake the world as literally as possible and take up an abode in the desert away from the pleasures and temptations of the world.

St. Anthony of the Desert is a prominent example of this desire for the ascetical life, and upon hearing the words of the Gospel—“If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell all thou hast”—he sold everything he had and took up the ascetical life, at first in his home city but eventually journeying into the deserts of Egypt. It is said that he live for at least 20 years without seeing anyone and had food thrown to him over a wall Despite his attempts at removing himself completely from the world, his life and practice earned him renown and others joined around him and eventually convinced him to be their spiritual director. And though he desired complete solitude, his burning charity for God compelled him to receive those who visited him, including even Constantine. (cf. Catholic Encyclopedia, St. Anthony).

Cardinal Newman describes the man that the desert forged as such:

His doctrine surely was pure and unimpeachable; and his temper is high and heavenly, without cowardice, without gloom, without formality, without self-complacency. Superstition is abject and crouching, it is full of thoughts of guilt; it distrusts God, and dreads the powers of evil. Anthony at least had nothing of this, being full of confidence, divine peace, cheerfulness, and valorousness, be he (as some men may judge) ever so much an enthusiast. (Cardinal Newman, Church of the Fathers, Anthony in Conflict)

The desert can thus be the source of death and barrenness, but also be the means by which life springs forth. For St. Anthony this barren and waterless land become a wellspring of spiritual fecundity that blossomed into flowers in the desert—that of monasticism—which would have (and continue to have) a profound impact on Christianity both West and East. For those who give up everything for the sake of prayer, spiritual combat and works of charity not only set an example of the heart fully consumed by the burning charity of God’s love, but by their prayers and sacrifices “fill up those things that are wanting of the sufferings of Christ, in my flesh, for his body, which is the church…” (Colossians 1:24 DR)

The Psalmist provides a fitting juxtaposition here in the passage, for his thirst for the Lord is not just a generic longing but rather prompted by his surroundings of the desert. It is a place where there is “no way” and “no water,” which is an interesting ordering that speaks to the nature of the place. The term “no way” in Latin is invia which is the negative form of via (way, road); thus—without road.

In the ancient world (and I suppose in our time as well) the lack of a road was indicative of an uninhabited place, and the reason for its being uninhabited is set forth by the next description—there is “no water:”

The characteristics of a desert are three, uninhabited, inaccessible, without water; the second being the effect, and the third the cause, of the first; for a country is generally deserted by reason of a want of water; for that makes the ground dry and barren, and when so deserted and barren, it becomes inaccessible. (St. Robert Bellarmine, A Commentary on the Book of the Psalms, 62, 2.)

In terms of the contrast between the desert and civilization, the desert typically indicates a lack of fecundity, desolation, exile, death and evil. St. Augustine comments:

Of this world we have spoken, the same is Idumæa, this is the desert of Idumæa, whence the Psalm has received its title. “In a land desert.” Too little it is to say desert, where no man dwells; it is besides, both “without way, and without water.” O that the same desert had even a way: O that into this a man running, even knew where he might thence get forth! Evil is the desert, horrible, and to be feared… (St. Augustine, Expositions on the Psalms, 62, 6.)

However, there is a subtle twist here in the passage, for having described the desert in which he now dwells, in the expansion of the thought in the second half of this passage he now describes it as a sanctuary where he can now come before God to behold His splendor:

The prophet means to convey that such uncultivated land, wanting not only the luxuries, but even the necessaries of life, was of great use to him in finding God. For the more the soul is destitute of the goods of this world, or, certainly, the more it takes its affections off them, and betakes itself to a spiritual desert, the more easily it ascends to the contemplation and enjoyment of things celestial. “In that desert land, and where there is no way and no water;” here I come to thee in spirit, raising up my soul to thee, as if I were “in thy sanctuary,” so that the desert became a sanctuary to me, “to see thy power and thy glory.” (St. Robert Bellarmine, A Commentary on the Book of the Psalms, 62, 2.)

The importance of this is crucial to not miss, for the Psalmist is on the run for his life and practically an exile from his people. He feels compassed on every side by those seeking his life and is cut off from all help. Yet in this desert—what should be the deepest despair he could face—he finds sanctuary. Not a repose from the troubles or temptations which plague him, but something far more surpassing—the very sanctuary of the Lord. In his time the sanctuary was in the Tabernacle which he was unable to access, but in his longing for the Lord he has found, as it were, the Tabernacle in this desert.

The irony is that when he was free to visit the sanctuary of the Lord his longing was not as great and he had to travel to worship there, but now that he cannot is and is not at liberty he has found it where he perhaps least expected it. The barrenness of the desert has allowed all the things which encumbered his soul to fall away so that it is free to ascend in contemplation to God, which is why even in this barren land he can see God in His power and glory:

Unless a man first thirst in that desert, that is in the evil wherein he is, he never arrives at the good, which is God…

In truth in that forsaken place, that is, in that desert, if as though from the desert a man strives to obtain enough for his sustenance, he will never see the power of the Lord, and the glory of the Lord, but he will remain to die of thirst, and will find neither way, nor consolation, nor water, whereby he may endure in the desert. But when he shall have lifted up himself to God, so as to say to Him out of all his inward parts, My soul has thirsted for You; how manifoldly for You also my flesh! lest perchance even the things necessary for the flesh of others he ask, and not of God, or else long not for that resurrection of the flesh, which God has promised to us: when, I say, he shall have lifted up himself, he will have no small consolations. (St. Augustine, Expositions on the Psalms, 62, 7.)

This life is—in reality—a barren desert, as much as we try to squeeze the waters of pleasure and contentment out of its rocks. It is easy to feel abandoned and distressed when trouble and tribulation comes against us (which it must), but we should never despair, for like the Psalmist these times in the desert are the opportunity for Gd’s grace to awaken our hearts and our longing for Him so that this barren land becomes, as it were, the sanctuary in which we see His power and glory. The sacraments of the Church are—like the food and drink which Elijah received in the desert (cf. 1 Kings 19:4-8)—means of grace to strengthen us in the midst of our exile as we traverse towards the heavenly sanctuary. By cooperating with God’s grace the sanctuary of our hearts are enlarged so that the longing that the Psalmist expresses comes to fruition in the blossoming of charity and virtue:

God has pitied us, and has made for us a way in the desert, Himself our Lord Jesus Christ: [John 14:6] and has made for us a consolation in the desert, in sending to us preachers of His Word: and has given to us water in the desert, by fulfilling with the Holy Spirit His preachers, in order that there might be created in them a well of water springing up unto life everlasting. [John 4:14] And, lo! We have here all things, but they are not of the desert. (St. Augustine, Expositions on the Psalms, 62, 6.)

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In this animation I wanted to try and combine both the idea of road and water, so I created a new Solid in After Effects and applied Trapcode Mir to it. I modified the Step Y (or Step X, can’t remember!) to create these “strips” which I thought was probably the best way to combine those two concepts. I then animated the Offset Y and the Evolution and set it to loop. I added in an abstract texture for the coloring.

Next I added in a camera and set up some depth of field. I duplicated the Mir layer and pushed it back in Z space to have it go out of focus; you cannot exactly see it in the animation, but you do notice if it’s not there; it creates just enough depth to give the whole composition some presence and heft.

I added in some glow and color correction and wrapped it up.

Enjoy.

View a higher quality version of this gif here: