��ѿ��ý

Available for over a year

Good morning. Last week saw the local elections, now we have seven weeks of EU referendum to look forward to. It can feel as if the loud, angry cycle of politics never ceases – and some are keen to escape. You can count me among them. Last week I joined a camel safari into the Sahara desert. At sunset I climbed the highest dune, crawling through shifting sands on my hands and knees, to reach the top just as the sun touched the horizon. I said a rosary bathed in fire. The Berber guides were probably a bit bemused. When I got back home one of my friends said: “Aren’t you supposed to run away from the desert, not into it?” I disagree. Yes, deserts can be frightening. They make a mockery of our reliance on technology. Get lost out there and unless you can read the stars, you will stay lost and you will die. But Christians have often deliberately put themselves in deserts. Catholic monasticism finds influence in the so-called desert fathers – men and women in the first few centuries of the faith who tried to live aesthetic lives of humble contemplation in the sands. Their fame spread and became problematic: you can’t do much contemplating when you’re surrounded by autograph hunters. Simeon Stylites, a holy man who lived in the fifth century, escaped the crowds of pilgrims by climbing a stone pillar. He lived about 20 metres off the ground for 37 years. Desert mystics want to imitate Christ, but they also pay a tribute to the spiritual benefits of profound isolation. Out there, there are no distractions – giving those who seek it the opportunity to develop a very personal relationship with God. I’m convinced this is one of the reasons why the great monotheisms flourished in the desert. There is little nature to worship so the Jews, Christians and Muslims looked upwards instead, at the sky. They came to rely on a God who “giveth and taketh away”. The psalmist says that the Lord punishes the wicked by turning: “fruitful land into a salt waste.” And he blesses the good by turning: “the desert into pools of water.” The reward of faith is to be led out of the desert and to an oasis. So doesn’t that mean that God wants us to walk away from the sands? I think not – because the oasis we’re supposed to seek is metaphorical. It stands for wisdom. I returned from the Sahara to a desert in Britain – a desert of political conflict. People complain to pollsters that there is a poverty in their national conversation – that they lack inspiration. For me that inspiration is found in seeking an inner peace. There are many ways to achieve it. But for me the most fruitful and refreshing is to escape to solitude: to find answers in faith. First broadcast 10 May 2016