sacred space

We are putting an addition onto our school. There will be a chapel in the new wing--something we've never had before. So, we had a meeting today about how we'd use the chapel and what we'd like the space to look like. Just among the nine of us at the table, there was a range of theologies, spiritualities, and religious beliefs. We all agreed that the chapel needed to be a sacred space for students and faculty. But how does one create a sacred space? What is required to make that chapel space sacred? A tabernacle? A cross? An altar? Pews? Chairs? Throw pillows? Tapestries?

I began thinking about spaces and places that have been sacred for me. I can think of five off the top of my head--and they are all sacred for such different reasons.

1. My college chapel. It is enormous and grand, but simple and not at all ornate. I remember my first mass there in the spring of my senior year of high school. I remember being in awe of the fact that a woman preached the homily--a woman who became a mentor, guide, and friend over the years. The chapel was where I gathered with my friends to pray and to be in community.

2. In that same vein, the little house that housed our chaplains' office is sacred to this day. In that building, we shared our stories, we shared meals, we shared of ourselves. We laughed and we cried and we grew in our faith. Who we were in that space made it sacred. I washed countless dishes in that kitchen; I sat for countless hours on couches and listened to my friends pour our their hearts; I poured out my own; I prepared for retreats and spring break trips; I prepared to go to Mexico there; and I formed some of my most meaningful friendships.

3. Tototopec, Mexico. During an immersion trip after my sophomore year, we drove up to a little town in the mountains called Tototopec. We jammed into the flatbed of a pickup truck--sitting on laps 3-deep. We were greeted by the townspeople with confetti and song--and the biggest meal you'd ever seen. After lunch, we played basketball with the youth group, and we ended the day by gathering around a large cross in the center of town. There, we held hands and prayed the Our Father/Padre Nuestro--everyone in their native tongue. I remember thinking, even in that moment, that *this* was holy ground.

4. My church in L.A. When I lived in Los Angeles, there weren't a lot of good things in life. But I found this youth group that was looking for young adult volunteers. I had no idea that answering an email would lead me to my "home" in that strange city. The 5:30 mass is one of the most amazing worship services you will ever attend. The church is packed (you need to be there by 5 to find parking) and there's overflow in a little parish building next door (mass is on TV) with people of every race and sexual orientation. Mass is always 90 minutes long and no one leaves early. When the music begins, it starts with drums and electric guitars and the most amazing voice you will ever hear on a cantor. The pastor is dynamic and engaged--he wants his parish to be your home. You leave feeling like you've been to church, not like you've simply gone through the motions. It was one of my safest spaces in LA for 3 years.

5. The living room of the big yellow Victorian I mentioned in yesterday's post. In this space, you can be naked and exposed (metaphorically speaking) and it's ok. You put yourself out there and know that you are going to be caught by the amazing souls who share the space with you. It is sacred because of the bonds and friendships forged in the room. It is sacred for the last weekend spent with a dear, funny, bold, beautiful friend. It is sacred for the stories and songs and poems that are written within its walls, and the courage those walls offer. You can begin to heal there--to tell your story and put it behind you.

Someone in the meeting today commented that places are sacred because of the people who have inhabited them before you and left pieces of their spirits behind. It's so true of my 5 sacred spaces...and I love that I am part of their legacies.