A space becomes sacred when somehow God's presence makes an appearance. Or...more likely...God's presence has always been there, but our eyes and hearts become open to recognize it.
I'm sitting here at my computer, hoping that this corner of cyber space that is my blog will become sacred space at least for a few moments for whoever might happen upon reading it. I watch and dream of our little historic church offering the engagement and enrichment of sacred space to those who happen upon us. I like to think, in both spaces, God might make an appearance. Both spaces require time from me and others, they embrace relationships, aesthetics of template and temple have been important, and both are grounded in themes and theology.
I'm enamored at the moment with an image from Celtic spirituality, written about by Margaret Silf, in a book called Spaces: Stations on a Celtic Way,(Brewster MA: Paraclete Press, 2001), of groves and springs. Groves of vegetation and springs are few and far between in this desert climate, though they are here, and called "oases" or just simply "washes." But there is something sacred about them...a clump of diverse trees, underbrush, sharing common ground that is fed by the life-giving water of a spring...or an occasional collection of runoff rain...or a hidden reservoir.
This type of sacred grove has long been a place of rest, rejuvination, and reconnection to weary travelers. Silf retells the story of the weary band of Hebrews wandering through their desert land, grumbling and complaining for many long years...yet continually finding God's surprising sustenance popping up here and there. I pray that our community might continue to be and become even more such a "sacred grove."
1 comment:
Barb,
I love the image of a group of trees in a wash being called a "sacred grove". That is just too funny. Before that I pictured groves like the ones I saw in the beautiful Pocono mountains. But you are right. To weary travelers in a desert, a group of tress in a wash is indeed a "sacred grove".
So I realize that it doesn't take much to offer God's blessings. The other day I handed out water bottles to the work crew that replaced some of the sidewalk at church. I had one left over and gave it to the woman at the bus stop. Her eyes lit up. The guys appreciated the water, too. This is an example of how a little water goes a long way in the dessert. It doesn't take much. In a way, the church became a "sacred grove" to those people that day.
Thanks for this image,
Rich
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