Jackson Hole, Wyo.-I took a break from my après-ski gig on the night of Dec. 19, just in time to run over and see the unveiling of the new aerial tram at JHMR. I got to Nick Wilson’s just as the cloaked tram emblazoned with spotlights, started to move slowly down toward the dock. The veil fell away and Santa rappelled down, lit by fireworks and big beams of light creating a brilliant photo-op that has been disseminated around the world (Props to the JHMR PR department.)

As I looked upon the bacchanal that was unfolding - 2,000 beer holding and hollering Jackson Holers all focused on the big shiny red box - it occurred to me that our secular ski bum culture was reenacting a Jackson Hole version of the moment in Exodus when the Jews were worshipping the golden calf at the base of Mount Sinai. I thought about smashing my Palm Treo in anger, but I’m not as rash as Moses, and I’ve lived here long enough to get used to the religious fervor with which locals regard our favorite ski area, and the tram-worship that engenders.

It’s not that I’m not proud of JHMR. When anybody from out of town puts together one of those stupid top 10 lists, I’m always rooting for JHMR to be number one. I want the world to recognize and confirm my brilliant choice to move here in 1980 to be a ski bum, and for the most part, the world has obliged through top 10 lists and local real estate prices. But I eventually grew out of my ski-bum orthodoxies, and now skiing for me is a way to enjoy time with my kids, not an attempt to fill a spiritual void.

I find it fascinating to observe that no matter how groovy, freethinking and secular we may think we are, we always find ourselves creating new idols even as we reject the old ones. For many of us, it’s JHMR and the tram. We value our big red icon beyond its utilitarian usefulness or sleek bold beauty. As an apparently transfigured local pro-skier, Jess McMillan, summed it up on her blog “The tram is my lifeline to happiness.” Now that’s a satisfied customer! I suppose her sentiments are comparable to the way people feel about professional team sports, or their favorite rock star. Most businesses can only enviously dream of generating that kind of product loyalty. Most religions count on and cultivate that depth of devotion.

If, as Dylan says, “You’re gonna have to serve somebody,“ I suppose a shiny, red box is as good as anything, but I think an even higher power might be more useful. After all, God doesn’t have to be decommissioned every 40 years (hmm, something biblical about that number). Now, I’m not some kind of an apologist for religion. As far as I can tell the Hebrew and Christian Gods haven’t performed any crass miracles lately, like magically lifting me to the top of a rad ski mountain. In fact they have been strangely absent for a couple thousand years. In biblical times they used to make quite a few appearances, maybe they need a better PR department. 

So, now it’s probably becoming apparent that I’m an equal opportunity critic of any dogmas, idols, or other golden calves that get between us and God.  But any cynicism I may have harbored about the tram unveiling was tempered by the boisterous crowd’s audacious and defiant act of pelting the pristine new box with snowballs. As one observer aptly put it in a quote in the Jackson Hole News&Guide, “It has to be able to take snowballs.”

Icons provide all of us with the opportunity to be iconoclasts. In this promising new year, let us pelt all our idols with snowballs, so that rather than being in their thrall we can put them to work serving us. Look beyond the tram or any other icon that mediates your relationship with God, and try to sense the presence of that mysterious higher power that informs everything in this magical world - and don’t forget to pitch a few snowballs at him, too, for good measure. PJH