One of the groups at our church is currently reading John Philip Newell’s “Sacred Earth, Sacred Soul.” The book is a collection of stories about Celtic thinkers and what they have to teach about recovering a lost relationship with the earth in this time of climate crisis and injustice. The chapter we were discussing was about John Muir. Muir was a Scottish-born American naturalist, author, environmental philosopher who was an early advocate for the preservation of wilderness in the United States. He, along with President Teddy Roosevelt, is often credited with the founding of American National Parks.

Posters and bumper stickers often display one of Muir’s famous quotes: “In God’s wildness lies the hope of the world.” He also wrote, “Earth has no sorrows that earth cannot heal.”

Muir is so celebrated in American history and environmental studies that his name is given to Muir Woods National Monument, an area of trails winding among towering old-growth redwood trees in the Golden Gate National Recreation Area in California.

A lesser known piece of the story of John Muir is that he wrote some racist remarks about Native Americans early in his career. Although there is evidence that his views about indigenous Americans changed over the course of his career. He later wrote positively about Alaskan Natives’ appreciation and stewardship of the natural world. Members of our discussion group expressed a willingness to forgive Muir for the racism that was, in part, a product of the wider culture of the times in which he lived. One member of the group stated, “I would hate to be held responsible for everything I said when I was in my twenties.” It is a point well taken. I know that even though I was born in a different time with different attitudes about race, I, too have held racist notions and thoughts.

In a way I believe that we are well served by studying the wider context of the times in which Muir lived as well as remembering his personal contributions to modern conservation and the protection of the earth. Ours is a human history. We are who we are because of real human beings who shared ideas, took stands, and sacrificed for the sake of the future. These heroes of our history were not perfect. They made mistakes. They had ideas and notions that were dangerous alongside ideas and notions that are important to preserve for future generations. Part of the job of historians is to report as much of the story as possible so that we can understand the complexity of our history and not make it into a simple story.

If we remember Muir only as one of the fathers of the National Parks movement and the proponent of the preservation of wild spaces, he becomes a bit of a mythical figure. A bearded, fedora-wearing wilderness philosopher. However, if we understand that not all of his ideas were good ones, that he had his own prejudices and failings, an understanding of a real human person emerges.

We, who are flawed, who make mistakes, who have said unkind words in the past, can also make significant contributions to the common good. A person does not have to be perfect in order to participate in great movements such as environmental preservation.

Sometimes we put historic figures on pedestals and remember them as somehow larger than life. This kind of partial memory tells only part of the story.

I think that Muir and those who have worked to preserve his memory understand that he was part of something much bigger than a single human life. His commitment was to principles that are larger than he was. It is fitting to remember him with a hike through giant Redwoods, a journey into the deep canyons of Yosemite National Park, or a visit to a glacier. Hope lies not in the words of a single man, but in the wilderness itself.

Newell wrote his book to inspire readers. He lifts up Celtic thinkers and writers as examples of leaders who have more than ideas. They offer a deeper, more rounded spirituality that we can approach when we learn of their ideas and understand their lives. He makes no attempt to hide Muir’s racist comments, but rather tells the story of how Muir’s ideas evolved over the course of his adult life. There is inspiration not only in a few choice quotes, but also in the story of the life of a man who could propose not only changes in how we treat the world, but also changes in his own personal life.

John Muir spent a decade of this life as a farmer, tending soil and harvesting crops. It is impossible to say what part of his story was most influential in his becoming a champion of wilderness. Of course no single thing shaped the man that he became, but rather a lifetime of real world experiences. His pilgrimages into wilderness combined with his experiences growing up and his work as a father and provider for his family to help him forge a life of public witness that contributed not only to the quality of life in his time, but to the quality of life touched by every one of the millions of visitors who annually make their wilderness pilgrimages to national parks.

I grew up near the border of America’s first national park. Yellowstone country is a big factor in my spiritual growth and development. My experiences hiking and backpacking and camping in the wilderness have shaped my life and the decisions I make. My spirituality is formed both by my experiences of community and by my personal times of being alone in nature. Now I live in a very different place where the mountains meet the ocean and I have ready access to different kinds of wilderness. Walks on the beach and walks through heritage forests continue to be an important part of my spiritual practices.

I am, however, also grateful for the life of the wider community and of having small groups with whom I can read, study, and discuss important ideas. Muir may be right that “in God’s wildness lies the hope of the world.” It is equally true, however, that hope also dwells in community.