Empty Spaces, Sacred Spaces

Another Education for Ministry (EfM) training is in the books.  Since I am a mentor for an EfM group, I have to attend a yearly training session to learn new things and sharpen my skills. I get my training online since my group is online only (many groups meet face-to-face). It is nice since I get to stay home, near the refrigerator and the loo, if you understand the British-ism. I enjoy the training every year, but it is sometimes pretty intense. 

Part of our training is working with Theological Reflections (TR), an integral part of the EfM program. We start with what we call an artifact: a picture, an object, a movie, a scripture story or verse, a book, an advertisement, or something we saw on Facebook that makes us prick up our ears and think of the possibilities that a TR using it would bring forth. From there, we go to find a focus – a place where we can all agree we want to explore in the next step of the reflection. Here we look at options. We practice with metaphors that frame the artifact or express feelings and where our core values lie in reference to the metaphor we are focusing on. We use four sources to explore (Tradition, Culture, Position, Action) and use those to look at the metaphor from the perspectives of what our Christian tradition tells us, what our culture says about it, what our position (belief, where we stand on an issue) is, and finally what action is God calling us to do in light of what we have discovered through our personal and group exploration and experience. The whole TR process can be exhausting, but it can also be full of insights, enlightenment, and energization.

One of the TRs we did in training this year was an exploration of an image of a concrete and brick floor, metal window, door, wall frames, and roof trusses. Each item was individual; the only pieces connected were where the trusses met metal columns. The rest was all open space set in a woody glen near Richmond, VA.* We first had to establish what we were looking at. Some of us saw an area, perhaps pre-construction, but not suitable for anything since it had no people or identifiable furnishings. At least one person saw it as a sacred space, consecrated by what was there to memorialize and an invitation to worship with nothing between themselves and God.  Statements we came up with about the image ranged from “It is not complete. It is not good for anything. It appears to be something it is not.” We asked ourselves and each other if the object in the picture was complete as it was. After some discussion, we ultimately came to a question we wanted to examine further: "Am I complete as I am?” 

The empty space in that building made me consider whether I was a complete human being or perhaps I had gaps, spaces, holes, and voids inside me. Why were those gaps there? What had I learned that was wrong, or what have I yet to discover? How do I feel about that? Where had I made mistakes that took me in the wrong direction, what choices had I made that proved to be errors, and what and where were my core values? What needed changing, and how would be the best way to do that?

There was more to the TR, but right now, I have stopped with the image of the empty building with its invisible parts and the self I cannot see in the mirror, the interior self. I know there are plenty of empty spaces, and some of them are old wounds that have never healed. I also know there are sacred spaces, perhaps not big ones, but big enough to let me sense when one is nearby. Now, I know there are sacred, thin spaces at times that I can sense and rejoice in them. It does not have to be a consecrated space; it works in my cluttered living room and the National Cathedral every time I have been there. It worked when I walked by my river back home or through the historical paths that crisscrossed the woods around it. Remembering how those sacred spaces felt to me is enough of a goad to keep me looking for more, whether empty or teeming with humanity.

The quest and the usually organized method of sitting and contemplating it (or even walking with it) are essential. If I ever get back home, I am sure it will resonate with all the prayers, joys, tragedies, and experiences of those who have been there before. I want to feel that in that place, and feel again a familiar feeling of a sacred, even if empty, space. Meanwhile, I have some internal completion to do on myself.

 

 

*Historic Polegreen Church, Hanover County, VA.  A monument to a historic church built in the 17^th century as one of the first non-Anglican churches. It was destroyed in a battle during the Civil War and has now been made an official historic monument. It is often used as a wedding venue. Please read the entire history on the website.