Mountains have not always been considered beautiful. The Psalmist says that he lifts up his eyes unto the hills, and only then asks, "From whence cometh my help?" He never says that the hills are where his help comes from. That is an entirely modern interpretation, post Romanticism.
(It was the Romantics who believed that we learned about God through Nature. They had gotten the idea from Puritans and other NW European Protestants, who indirectly inherited it from the concept of Wyrd among the pagans of that region. I discussed that in detail in 2010. (Be warned. It's a series) I will not repeat that here, only noting that the concept is not much found in Scripture. Psalm 19 is a bit nature-y, OK. But it's new, in England and America, and I therefore assume in Canada.)
Those who are trying to make their living in nature do not much glorify Nature. It's a hard life and it's hard work. The glorification comes from those who see it as an escape from industrialisation. This is true even unto the present day, and I have been guilty of it myself. And no, I am not going to link to that for you. You will have to uncover my hypocrisy yourselves.
Mountains were barriers to travel and thus trade. They were interruptions of the perfect circles of the horizon. They were dangerous places. It was more than forty years ago that I learned, to my shock, that the Abenaki did not regard climbing any of the White Mountains, not even Mount Washington, with any special spiritual significance. Mountains were a problem, not a solution.
In the scriptures it is the cities that are the expression of heaven, especially as we push the clock, uh, calendar back. The wilderness is there to toughen us and perhaps even force us to depend on God - see planter Cain resenting hunter/forager/pastoralist Abel - but that is not the final destination. It's the training ground. So keep that idea of the holy mountain or wilderness if you must, but understand that there is a necessary modification. Those things are good once they have been subdued. If you think of the Ivy League Mountain Outing Clubs you begin to get the idea. Sumner Saltonstall proves himself in the chastened wildreness, then goes back to work in the mutual fund in Boston.* The Old Mountain Man might be respected in a vague sort of way, but the Oregon Trail is a horribly dangerous obstacle one wants to get away from. Brag about it later, sure. But it's not the destination. The forts are destinations, or the Willamette Valley, and reaching them is the achievement. Ranchers in the west are defined by what they can deliver to the "towns," like Chicago, proving themselves by their ability to live successfully on the margins of safety, not any abstract wilderness. Screw that. Dude, we're courageous, but we're not crazy and pointless.
Crossing the Rockies was important because, um, crossing. See also Cumberland Gap. Getting a railroad in there was a big deal. The first ascent of the Matterhorn was in the mid-1800s, the Himalayas in the mid-1900s. I'm sure there were old guys for a century afterward who said "Well in my day we...," but not the point, dude. Sherpas shrugged and said "they're a little crazy, but their money is good." This worship of mountains does not owe much to ancient cultures, but it took off under Coleridge and Wordsworth.
But...but...but...that whole image of the great adventurer climbing up and looking over a vast terrain which he suddenly understood somehow? Surely that is ancient and of deep spiritual importance? Because it's hard to do that, man! It's an accomplishment. Well sure. I have climbed a lot of the NH 48 and still fantasise that I will somehow get the rest if I only lose forty more pounds. Not everyone does it. But this is an incredibly new idea. Homer does not record any interest in the Greek 48, and Tibetans are proud of weaving their way through mountains to the other side, not conquering them. Their temple windows do not face up to the peaks in admiration, but outward in the glories of isolation.
*I am reminded of Grim's characterisation of Appalachian Trail through-hikers here. There is something deeply artificial about it, however physically difficult it is
5 comments:
Mountain men were kind of crazy.
This is historically true, but I think the implied moral assumes primitivism. Instead of "back to nature" or "back to the land," the slogan is "back to the city." It is true that the charms of wilderness are only apparent to a man who has a full belly and no fear that he will be eaten by wild animals or wild men, but those charms do appear to us because we meet those conditions. Biblical images of the Heavenly City are, on the other hand, a little hard for at least some modern men to swallow. The cities we know firsthand are, on the whole, ugly, frightening, somewhat dangerous places. The image of Heaven as Jerusalem was moving, two thousand years ago, but the image of Heaven as Houston, Lagos, Bombay . . .? I think fixation on old symbols, even old symbols in the Bible, is a sort of idolatry. Our hearts are moved by the symbols by which our hearts are moved, not by the symbols by which they ought to be moved.
The leavening to this is the ermetic/hermit tradition, which predates Christianity but was especially important to its early formation. It's often given credit for being the font of monasticism, although monasteries do follow your model: they may retire to the country, but in order to build a garden rather than to seek spirituality in the wilderness. Medieval art tends to love gardens and not the Wild, certainly not forests or mountains, which are dangerous places full of madmen (like Merlin in his days of madness, or Lancelot in his own) or outlaws (like Robin Hood, but also like the various robber knights that the Round Table quests seek out to prove themselves) or dangerous animals (like the Questing Beast). Even brave knights who 'went into a forest, to seek adventure' brought along nice pavilions and ladies to keep them company sometimes.
Even the Robin Hood stories, which make as much joy out of living in the Greenwood as any such stories ever, feature an occasion in which Little John disguises himself to take service with the Sheriff in the wintertime so he can eat regularly and get out of the cold. Likewise there are many happy Robin Hood tales that involve a stop by a tavern, or a feast on pirated beer or wine to go with the venison.
I'd say even Tolkien follows this model, where wonderful places like Rivendell and Beorn's hall are kinds-of gardens 'on the edge of the Wild,' where travelers can rest and regain strength after a challenging passage through dangerous mountains and forests. Forests, especially Mirkwood but even the old forest right by the Shire, follow the medieval presentation of being dangerous, frightening places.
And so they are; I have been through the certification course for Wilderness Rescue, which comes up regularly out this way. People get lost, hurt, and need rescuing when they go into the wilderness: not every time, but all the time.
Grim:
"The Jundland Wastes are not to be traveled lightly." -- Obi-Wan Kenobi, A New Hope
@JMSmith: What I've read says that ancient cities were population sinks. They grew by emigration from the rural areas, but life was crowded and unhealthy for the lower classes. I haven't read much on ancient crime rates, but the first page on google says that travel in Rome at night was only safe with an armed entourage.
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