Perspectives on Sacred Space and Sacred Time:
Reflections on a Trip to a Land called Holy
I.
Introduction
Above
a tomb of a patriarch of Israel an infant squirms as his foreskin is cut,
prayers and ululations rise from the gathered family, a new life is celebrated.
Through the streets of the old city young men bear palm branches before the
cardboard cairn of their lost friend processing toward the Dome of the Rock, a
life gone is remembered. Pilgrims wander the land connecting their lives to
poignant places and events that resonant deep into their souls. A sacredness
tends to ring, sometimes softly others sharply, in the air.
There
are the patterns that make up our lives and the stories we tell each other to
make sense of them. I propose that this integration is the process of making
something sacred and that the times and spaces set aside for this integration
are sacred times and sacred spaces. The Holy Land, Israel and Palestine, is
permeated with this sacredness by the People of the Book. The paths of Jesus
trodden by pilgrims, the long standing Jewish heritage, the Islamic calls to
prayer all form an intense web of sacredness.
I
look at the culture of America and it seems to stand in stark contrast. Here I
am not speaking about secularization or any supposed "War on
Religion" but our inherent seeking not to put aside time and space to
integrate the patterns of our lives into stories and histories with each other.
This is a problem flowing from the actions of institutionalized religion as
much as any where else.
We
arrived in Israel on the feast of the Epiphany. I remember a poignant
conversation with a fellow pilgrim who expressed that the Holy Day seemed
nothing more than another required day with no relevance. This comment got
deeply under my skin. My thoughts were afire with rejoinders... "Is not
the recognition that scientific inquiry towards truth can lead to God
relevant?"... "Is not the recognition that the foreigner, the other,
is equally able to enter into our worship relevant?"... "Is the
wrestling and working with these symbols by countless numbers of Christians
simply to be discarded and their lives treated as meaningless?"...
Those
things are very relevant and the lives and wrestling of countless Christians is
very meaningful, as my fellow pilgrim agreed. But these issues have become
completely disassociated with the story of Epiphany. Thus bringing about the
phenomena my fellow pilgrim so rightly noted: that Epiphany has devolved into a
sad useless relic. It is similar to the sad phenomena that the name of Jesus is
more associated with bigotry, punishment, and obligation than acceptance, love,
and commitment. The Christian stories and symbols have been derailed from the
very patterns of life they bring to fulfillment.
This
conversation prompted many of the reflections I had during my time in the Holy
Land. Three practical points from these reflections revolve around the cost of
sacred land, a model of house church, and a community setting itself apart.
II.
The Cost of Sacred Space
What
price are we willing to pay for land that is considered sacred and what long
term value does it hold? The chance to pray at the Western Wall was a striking
moment for me, I prayed to leave false defenses behind and trust in the defense
of God’s presence... I will reflect on that moment of prayer for the rest of my
life. Yet I am acutely aware that my ability to pray there came about by the
forced relocation of the Moroccan Quarter from that area. Similarly in the
midst of almost any American urban environment I can walk into a depressed
section of the city and find a church building on the brink of abandonment, if
not abandoned. In the end I am left to wonder if abandoning a community in such
a way is any better than forcing them to move.
Both
are distinct cases of those in power choosing to partition themselves from
those who do not have it. If the power in question is the ability to move
others or to leave behind others who cannot move, the removal of connection is
the same. The American model might indeed be more caustic because its passive
nature makes it more readily rationalized away.
This
phenomenon is one inherent to the entitlement that often comes hand in hand
with having power. The hearts of both Judaism and Christianity cry out against
such entitlement but its continued prevalence cannot be denied. In the end the
cost is a tarnishing of our holy places.
The
cost of sacred space is our entitlement. The seeking to make sacred space when
and where it is comfortable, with no regard for those who do not have such privilege,
is inherently flawed. Moving forward I can only hope to keep this reality poignantly
in my mind. The inherent call of the incarnation is for those in power to place
it aside and enter into the space of those without. It is in this reality, that
of Jesus, I define what is sacred and my seeking sacred space must follow the
same path.
III.
A Model for House Church
In
light of this I want to consider a model of House Church that came from the
churches and mosques we experienced on our trip. This model is in distinct
opposition to the idea of a house church being a community that worships in the
houses of various members. I would say that this model, especially when
practiced by American suburbanites, is inherently one of entitlement by the
housed and mobile. It is a model that asks people to have church in their
house. This is in stark contrast to the model that asks people to make a home
in their church.
I
often found myself smiling in the Mosques we visited, because they were filled
with life. Businessmen discussing business in the corner, children running
around in the open spaces playing and laughing, people gathered in circles for
prayer, spiritual discussion, and study. These were spaces of prayer that were
also spaces of daily life. It was a phenomenon that I have never encountered in
American churches despite the vast potential for such that they have. Our church spaces need to be open for such
use and our congregations need to be empowered to use them as such.
Another
key element was the monastic nature of many of the churches we visited. Groups
of individuals had specifically decided to make this specific church their
home. They were there because of a story, because of the heritage that has
grown up around a specific event in the life of Jesus Christ. They had grounded
themselves into that story, made that their home, and then opened that home,
that story, for others to enter. The entire space was created and focused
around presenting that story as a multisensory reality.
This
different understanding of church stands in contrast to what I tend to experience
in American churches. Churches organize themselves more along the lines of
clubs and organizations than homes and families. Libraries, parlors, basement
youth rooms, and sanctuaries are not places where one goes for refuge or a
break but for a meeting or an event. A church’s name is used as a statement of
affiliation and a sign on the front door, but rarely impacts a parish more than
an occasional piece of art work. In the midst of any name, even those parishes
that do not have a Biblical one, is a story to be lived into that a parish can
take up as part of its being. The sad reality is that too many churches have a
mission to state but not a corresponding story to tell.
Parishes
need to figure out how to make a home in their church. How can the parish
building be opened to the community to use it truly as a refuge? Can a group of
parishioners be enfranchised to truly make more of their home in the parish,
students studying in the library, afternoon tea in the parlor, watching the
football game in the youth room? But foremost can our communities be filled
with members who are able to readily tell the story of their parish and how
their story readily engages and is formed by the community and its
mission?
IV.
A Community Set Apart
Similar
questions began to well up inside of me in regards to personal life and
personal practice. In the Holy Land the faith practices of many individuals are
easily recognizable: Jewish men wearing tallits, Muslims flocking to spaces of
prayer at the required times, sections of the Old City being closed dependent
on whose day of observance it happens to be. The key to all of these things is
that they were an act of religious observance that brought about an awareness
of the individual’s religiosity.
It
left me wondering if there were any equivalent parallels in Christianity. The
reality is that there are, but in America they are in many ways an assumed part
of our culture, so taking them up is not culturally significant. The calendar
of major Holy Days for Western Christendom aligns with the calendar of National
Holidays. The “War on Christmas” cultural phenomenon is a sign of how implicit
most people take the National Holiday on December 25th to be a Christian
celebration. The same can be said for the organization of our work week and the
importance of having Sundays free. The end of Blue Laws, the idea of high
school sports on Sunday, and similar trends are met with a large amount of resistance.
Our society is engendered to allow Christians to go about their religious
observances without having to make any notable exceptions to cultural norms.
Fast Food Chains even make sure to provide Fish Sandwiches throughout lent.
This
is a very different reality than what was presented in Israel. Here the
National Holiday Calendar aligns with the Jewish Holy Day calendar and thus
Christians and Muslims have to seek out, and make a point of, being observant
to their faiths. Likewise shops, museums, and other venues are open dependent
on the faith of the proprietor. One cannot be a tacit Christian in Israel the
way one can in America.
Christians
might have to choose to be observant in America but they do not have to
struggle against societal norms to be so. This enmeshment is problematic
because it can stop Christian Ritual from speaking out against the society
that, at points, reinforces it. Further it means that Christian Ritual remains
enmeshed in former cultural idioms instead of being able to apply itself to new
idioms. Some groups are developing an idea that Christian Ritual is outdated
and of no relevance to Christian living, this quickly becomes a self fulfilling
prophesy as their use of Christian Ritual quickly becomes outdated and of no
relevance to Christian Living.
Moving
forward I am left with three maxims to consider. First, General cultural
support of a Christian Observance does not lessen its significance. Second, Christian
Observance can live in the midst of cultural acceptance but cannot be attached
to it. And most importantly that Christian Observance needs to constantly seek
an alignment with the culture around it and not seek the culture around it to
align with it. I hope that keeping and working with these principles I can
practice and cultivate a life of Christian Observance that remains relevant and
topical to the world it seeks to transform.
V.
Conclusion
I
am not coming out of my time in the Holy Land, or of my reflections on that
time, with completely nuanced arguments and positions. Where I find myself
instead is having now a new perspective on many issues of how time and space
enter into the arena of the sacred. This experience will nuance my appreciation
and thinking of what sacred means for the rest of my life and give me a very specific
tool set to use in forming communities. In the reflections above I did not set
out to prove what I had to say but to present the situations I encountered and
the thoughts that came out of them. My hope is only to share the stirring up
that has occurred within me with the reader. The end point is to make sure to
step back and see the whole system of how our use of sacred time and space
forms and is formed by the society in which it dwells.
