The Deserted Place

“Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while.” People were coming and going in great numbers, and they had no opportunity even to eat. So they went off in the boat by themselves to a deserted place… When Jesus disembarked and saw the vast crowd, his heart was moved with pity for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd, and he began to teach them many things. — Mark 6:31–34

So when I thought about how best to prepare a homily after two days — of your listening to me — I decided that what I was going to do was just go with a practice that I often use as a psychologist and free-associate to the readings. Prayerfully, to see what touched me and what I think might be used to speak to you and your experience, and to what we have lived together these couple of days.

The words that stood out for me were, “Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while.” And there were two points around “deserted place” that came to mind. One is a deserted place, and the other is a desert. A deserted place being somewhere where we might all feel alone, maybe even lonely and abandoned. And a desert — where initially it seems like everything is dried up and there’s really nothing here.

What came to mind for me was a conversation I had with a young psychologist colleague. I was having dinner with him and his wife, and he admitted to me that there are still times in his life when he feels he can’t be with anyone, that no one can really understand that part of him that feels so bereft. And what he does in those moments is revert to an old practice and take ketamine.

I remember saying to him — because I really didn’t want him to feel like I was judging him for taking ketamine, and I wasn’t — but what I heard was that this was a painful, distressing place for him to be. And I simply said to him, “You know, when you feel that way, I hope that maybe we could just go for a walk or talk about it.”

What it reminded me of is that there are places where people suffer so deeply, where they feel so bereft, so without hope, and these are places where they feel they have to be alone.

What also came to mind were other experiences I’ve had as a clinician, where people face really hard realities, like dying. I accompanied this wonderful woman through her last months. She was a person of great faith, but what mattered most to her was what was going to happen to her family — what would be their last memory of her — and how she could still reach them and console them.

Another thought that came to mind was a place that feels like a desert in my own life, which is sometimes this whole issue around mortality, realizing I’m in my mid-70s and wondering, “Is there really anything beyond this? Do I really, truly believe now?” I can tell you honestly, I am filled mostly with gratitude, but God has not cured my doubts. I struggle with doubt.

In these cases that came to mind, what I thought was: Is this really where God wants to put the period? Could I really say to my friend, “Yeah, keep taking the ketamine”? Is there really no human place where that place that feels so alone can be held?

With death, and watching her struggle with her own death — did I really believe that all of the love she had for her family ultimately died? That there was no access for her or her family to dwell in the rich love that she gave them?

I could talk about other moments, and I’m sure you could too. What I’d ask you to think about is: Where is that place in your life where you feel deserted and alone? And can you receive the invitation God has put forth: “Come to that deserted place. I will be there with you.”

There’s a mantra that I love and always return to, and that is: God is here. God is with you. God is for you.

God is here. God is with you. God is for you.

I think it’s really important for us to remember, in those deserted places where we might feel shame or feel out of reach, where we might believe that God’s love couldn’t possibly be there, to remember that God is already there. That, like in the Gospel, God is saying, “Come with me to this deserted place.”

My prayer for all of us is that we believe that we’re never beyond the reach of God’s love; that there is nothing we need to be ashamed of in the face of God’s mercy and compassion. I pray that we can take this to heart so that we can live free lives — free to take delight in the human condition, to be comfort for those most in need, and to be real, embodied people who communicate God’s Love.