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Taking a break from commenting on the Rule of St. Benedict, I am sharing an article that I recently wrote for Church of the Redeemer in Greensboro, NC.

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God has always established holy landmarks where his presence is somehow more evident. Physical places where he manifests himself in greater ways. He leads Israel out of Egypt by guiding them with a cloud during the day and fire at night: visible evidence of his presence. He calls Moses up to smoke-covered Mount Horeb to deliver a rule of life for the Hebrew nation. God’s Shekinah Glory fills the tabernacle, and later the temple, so powerfully that people cannot enter. He writes his name on Jerusalem–the terrain around Jerusalem literally forms the Hebrew letter שׁ (pronounced Sheen) which is the symbol for Shaddai, one of God’s names. The Lord creates sacred spaces where we can commune with him.

Have you ever sensed being in a sacred space? Perhaps you discovered it in a garden or as you sat or kneeled in the sanctuary of God during worship. I have found a thinness in some places–where my awareness of God’s presence is greater than others. The Cove (Billy Graham’s Conference Center in Asheville, NC) and St. Francis Springs Prayer Center are two physical spaces that intentionally invite the sacredness of God’s presence. However, you don’t have to travel very far to discover such a place. Early in the morning, I often walk through the garden at New Garden Park. My physical senses are overwhelmed by God’s creation: listening to the birds, seeing green plants and butterfly and bee dancing among yellow flowers, smelling fragrant dew mingled with the sweetness of the plants, and feeling a cool breeze. Throughout the night, God has blessed the work of the hands that planted these seeds. He has given the increase. Life is here, both physical and spiritual. The veil is thin and God communes with His creation.

There is a common response when we encounter God. The earth grows silent before the Lord. That is how Habakkuk describes the world in God’s presence – silent. It’s breathtaking and overwhelming. It can even be scary. The elders of Israel experienced God’s presence once and told Moses, “You talk to God for us. He scares us to death!” (my paraphrase, Exodus 20:19). Isaiah thought he would not survive the presence of God and said, “Woe is me, for I am undone…For my eyes have seen the King, The Lord of hosts” (Isaiah 6:5).

Perhaps these images lie in the back of our consciousness, obscuring our vision to see the sacred spaces in our lives. Maybe our reformed eyes are too reformed, blocking the recognition of the places where there is a thinness in the veil between the physical and the spiritual. We may even confess that we are more comfortable with the physical and the mental parts of our souls than the spiritual. However, deep within each of us is a spiritual yearning that seeks our return to the Creator whose image is eternally imprinted in us. Father Pierre Teilhard de Chardin observed, “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience; we are spiritual beings having a human experience.” When we step into sacred spaces, there is a deep stirring–a spiritual recognition of the nearness of home.

You were created to commune with God in sacred spaces. Our Anglican tradition, embracing the teachings of the historic Church, holds tightly to the Theology of Sacrament. This theology recognizes the reality of sacred space. During Holy Communion, we declare the mystery of Christ’s real presence in the elements of Communion. In baptism, we recognize the sharing of Christ’s death and resurrection, as well as the seal of the Holy Spirit that marks us as children of the Father. Truly, Jesus is everywhere. God is omnipresent. However, there is something unique about the Sacraments. Our catechism describes Sacrament as “an outward and visible sign [that is a physical thing] of an inward and spiritual grace [that is a spiritual presence]. God gives us the sign as a means whereby we receive that grace, and as a tangible assurance [we can see it, touch it, know it] that we do in fact receive it.” We hold that in the Sacrament of Holy Eucharist, just as in the other sacraments, God reaches through the thin veil and transforms the physical into spiritual grace. We cite Jesus’ words saying, “this is my body” and “this is my blood.” This is why we carefully regard the bread and wine, which has become for us the body and blood of Christ. He invites us to the most intimate communion with himself in sacred space.

Amazing things happen in sacred spaces. Sacramental Theology suggests that God interrupts time with eternity through the Sacraments, and time collapses on itself. The collapse of time is what we recognize during Holy Communion when we confess this “mystery of faith” by saying, “Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.” Another important thing that happens during Sacrament is that God transforms what he touches. We are changed. Once we recognize this transforming power of God’s touch, we will never look the same way at the Eucharist, Baptism, Holy Matrimony, or anointing the sick. Honestly, that can be scary! Perhaps that is why Paul urges us not to be careless as we come to the altar of Christ. Through his tales of Narnia, C.S. Lewis illustrated communing with Jesus. Susan is nervous about meeting Aslan and asks, “Is he safe?” “Safe?” replies Mr. Beaver …”Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.” Yet, Jesus invites us into that sacred space to commune with him: not because it is safe, but because it is good.

In sacred spaces, we discover the goodness of God even when (perhaps especially when) we do not feel totally safe. As a hospital chaplain, I discovered sacred spaces in the most challenging places. In the Intensive Care Unit, as family gathered around to say goodbye to their loved one, there was a realization of sacred space enveloping all who were present. During the final prayers, the anointing with oil, and the reading of comfortable words, often the face of the dying softened, and the wrinkles of mortal wrestling smoothed as they gave way to eternal birth. Sometimes a faint smile would spread across the lips of the dying. In the midst of tears and grief, there was an atmosphere of the spiritual and the physical blending together. This was holy ground; it was sacred space.

Where do we discover sacred spaces? I mentioned a few sacred spaces that God appears to bless, but there are certainly others. Think of places where you were drawn to silence by the awe of an awareness of God. There are also rhythms of life that reveal sacred space in our busy schedules. For the monastic, prayer is as much a rhythm of life as breathing. That isn’t to say that monastic life is more sacred than normal daily living that the majority of us experience. However, the monastic develops unique daily habits of praying. Prayer, like breathing, involves exhaling and inhaling life-giving air. Simon Chan offers an analogy of marriage where husband and wife live in a habitual state of love, setting aside special times and places to express their love for one another. Likewise, the habit of prayer offered at special times and in special places establishes sacred space with God.

A wonderful example of habitual prayer is Brother Lawrence, a Carmelite Monk who lived in seventeenth century France. He writes, “I learned how to develop a habitual sense of God’s presence which our Lord, in his mercy, has been pleased to grant me.” Brother Lawrence would imagine himself a poor criminal sitting at the feet of the judge. He would contrast that image with God as his father loving him. The comparison of the images kept Brother Lawrence humble as he approached God, and secure as he experienced the love of God.

Prayer is how Brother Lawrence realized a “habitual sense of God’s presence.” For our tradition, the Book of Common Prayer offers a set of daily prayers and invites you into a habitual sense of God’s presence. When Archbishop Thomas Cranmer prepared our first liturgical manual, he included a Benedictine order of prayer known as the Daily Office. The Office is also known as the Liturgy of the Hours, or the Divine Office.

Cranmer combined early morning prayers into a single office of Morning Prayer, as one of four prayer offices. However, the ancient practice which has guided Benedictines for the past 1,500 years includes seven prayers each day. Each prayer has a unique theme which extolls a different aspect of our praise and dependency on God.

The seven prayers of the ancient Daily Office are observed at the Church of the Redeemer. Monday through Thursday, you are invited to come to the Church as you wish and participate in this ancient rhythm of prayer. At 6:30 in the morning, a few people gather to pray Vigils, the first prayer of the day. Vigils begins the day by inviting God to come and commune with us. Psalms express our praise through ancient words recorded in Holy Scripture. These ageless Psalms express our heartfelt needs, and the groanings of our spirits are translated by the Holy Spirit into our intercessions. Lauds is the next prayer, at 7:30am. The third prayer, Terce, is observed at 9am. At noon (known as Sext, or sixth hour), we pray for ministry and the faithful. None (or ninth hour) prayers are offered at 3pm to adore our Savior in his Passion and death, and we pray for the sick and suffering. The final offices of Vespers and Compline are prayed at home.

Through these offices of prayer, all of the Psalms are prayed through every one or two weeks (depending on the rhythm). The sacred space of these daily prayers keeps one in an attitude of prayer. There is remarkable strength in community in these Daily Offices. Like relay runners, as we complete prayers, others in other time zones begin the same offices. We pray continually, without ceasing, as the Body of the Church for the sake of the world.

The sacred space that we discover is the space shared by God–Father, Son, and Holy Spirit–with his beloved: you and me together. We discover sacred space in physical places, in Sacraments, in rhythmic practices of prayer, and ultimately, within ourselves. We have been touched by God and the veil within us is thin. Through the passion of Christ, you have become sacred space.

Learn more about the Daily Office by visiting the Anglican Communion Benedictines’ Christ Mission website (www.christmission.us) or enrolling in an online study through the Christ Mission Academy website (www.christmissionacademy.org).

In Him,
Dan+