Black-headed Grosbeak : In the Wilderness
Black-headed Grosbeak
This is a Black-headed Grosbeak. When I was choosing places to explore on my recent expedition into the mountains, it was high on my list to see. Who wouldn’t be excited by “flying candy corn???” This park was set in a canyon. You enter at a low elevation, by the water, and then climb switchbacks up into the mountains. There’s a natural compulsion to climb, to make progress along the trail. I certainly felt the tug - at first. If I saw this spectacular sight early on the trail, just imagine what must be around the next corner! But as I continued along, what I encountered was a seeming dead patch. Where the watered lowlands had been rich and full, this higher elevation was quiet, seemingly lifeless. Was it the habitat? Or the explorer?
The Bible's fourth book is called “Numbers” in English, for the census that takes place. The Hebrew name, Bamidbar, translates as “In the wilderness.” I find the latter name much more compelling. In the physical - and especially spiritual and psychological - narrative, Bamidbar recounts the interim period between the Israelites being an immature people and a nation ready to live in their promised land. In a sense, this book is a break, covering a 40-year span but with years and years left undetailed. Leviticus, the pinnacle of Torah’s structure, provides the holiness code. Deuteronomy, the epic conclusion, repeats again all the Mosaic instructions. Between them, in the wilderness, is a gap. What is this “gap” there to teach us?
As we walk on the paths of our own lives, I wonder what it means to encounter dead patches. I’ve gone where I’m supposed to go, and yet there’s an emptiness here. Is it somehow a reflection of my own inability to discern what’s around me, or is there simply a surrounding emptiness? Perhaps it’s a bit of both. This morning, on this trail, I mustered the courage - yes, courage - to turn around, to retrace my steps. I took confidence knowing that I was returning to the richness by the water. It buoyed my spirits. I broke away from the trail’s natural inclination and instead remained focused on what I genuinely wanted. Maturation, both individual and national, ultimately - inevitably - leads to the promised land.