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| Underground prayer cell, Transfiguration Monastery, near Buzuluk, Russia. |
I wrote my first post on prayer and place in the context of the Pussy Riot controversy twelve years ago in Russia, when the dissident rock band of that name managed to get into the Cathedral of Christ the Savior, near the Kremlin, and performed their musical prayer against Vladimir Putin.
In the post, I confessed my "mixed feelings about the very concept of sacred space." In my final post about the controversy, I wrote, "I have grown to have a lot of respect for them [the dissident musicians], but it's a complicated respect." I also wondered whether we Westerners with our diminished sense of reverence (is this fair?), were qualified to comment.
On reverence (freely expressed or compulsory), I also wrote a separate post.
All of these related themes came back to me when I read Mark Russ (Jolly Quaker) posting about Thicc places: a Quaker on pilgrimage. My best service to you now would be to reduce my own verbiage in favor of persuading you to read Mark's post. I'll just add a couple of thoughts:
First: I utterly agree with Mark that both the journey and the destination are important, for the reasons he expresses so well. I also want to take into account our varying temperaments. For some of us, the regular pilgrimage, perhaps every week, to our usual places of worship, and the anticipation and fulfillment of the worship itself, are all that we need. Those who go on pilgrimage to a more remote or special location might anticipate a more immersive experience than they experience in that regular cycle; are those of us who find no such need in ourselves qualified to deny them?
My red flags would go up only if those pilgrims inform us on their return that they're now superior to the rest of us. That's never happened in my experience; what actually happens is that they're eager to share the riches they've gained with the rest of us, and we listen eagerly, to everyone's benefit. It was wonderful to hear my cousin Johan Fredrik Heyerdahl talk about walking the Camino de Santiago when he was about the age I am now. I experienced a somewhat similar pilgrimage without leaving home when I read Timothy Egan's marvelous book A Pilgrimage to Eternity: From Canterbury to Rome in Search of a Faith.
In my experience, this last century of Russian history, with religious repression followed by Orthodox triumphalism and state-church enmeshment, has intensified and complicated all concepts of sacred space.
Second: Might it be true that those who argue for a flat and fastidious Quakerism, one that denies any forms of specialness, are often perfectly happy to go on holiday to interesting and, to them, exotic destinations? Maybe they would be willing to consider that traveling with a spiritual intention or hope would be equally legitimate? This line of questioning does have its own complication: the cost of such travel, whether or not it is for spiritual gain, surely puts some forms of pilgrimage beyond the reach of many people.
I'm reminded of my dislike of the way spiritual books are sometimes marketed. See my comments on Richard Foster's Sanctuary of the Soul—go to this post and scroll down past the movie stuff.
If I'm making unfair correlations, let me know!
We Quakers generally downplay sacred actions as well as sacred places, but maybe you'll see why I loved this Threads post from Karen Swallow Prior, which I present not to one-up anyone, but simply as a reminder to remain tender:
My parents love their church immensely. For health reasons, however, they’ve had to join the service online for some time now.
Yesterday, I was taking them lunch and unintentionally arrived before the service had ended. It was communion Sunday.
When I saw the two tiny cups of juice and two tiny crackers my father had set on the kitchen table, I felt like I had entered some of the holiest, most sacred ground I’d ever been honored to enter.
Now, please go to the post that provoked these thoughts, from Mark Russ.
While we're enjoying Mark's good company, here's more to think about: Dirty religion.
Other related items from my own blog: To see light more clearly. Memories of Buzuluk. Quaker communion.
Helen Benedict on Israelis, Palestinians, and ending the cycle of revenge.
Issa Amro: "It's a miracle that I even exist." His organization, Youth Against Settlements, has just won the Right Livelihood Award, one of the prizes sometimes known as the "Alternative Nobel Prize."
Forum 18 reports that a wide range of religiously-oriented Web sites have been blocked to Russian audiences. (Also: the Discord messaging platform is now being blocked in Russia.)
If you would like to join Friends United Meeting's "Living Letters" group, visiting Cuba in January 2025, the registration deadline is November 10.
Becky Ankeny finds comfort and consolation in the blunt words of Micah chapter 3.
The Washington Post's guide to helping people in distress owing to hurricanes Helene and Milton.
This afternoon at St Olave's Church and its free concert series every Wednesday and Thursday, we heard a wonderful piano concert by Kanae Furomoto, including the famous "Raindrop" prelude by Chopin. Here it is performed by Alice Sara Ott:
2 comments:
It is an interesting question about the role of special places. The thin place and thicc place to me is not an either/or question but of different perspectives which both have value. Some places that have been prayed in a lot that have a special feel. I remember when my wife and I were visiting Montreal and visited the Notre-Dame Basilica of Montréal. I definitely had a feeling of something holy, and I have had that in several places.
I am blessed to live at Dayspring in Germantown, Maryland. This was bought by the Church of the Saviour primarily to have a place of retreat. It has our silent retreat center, other ministries, and where my congregation - Dayspring Church (ecumenical with some Quaker influences) - meets. It is 208 acres of forest, meadows, and bodies of water. Those who come to this space frequently note that they feel something special here. It puts them at ease and facilitates their communion with the divine. It is a place where a mystical reality can lead people to a sense of their call in the world.
Lately, we have been talking a lot about it as a refugia, a concept outlined in the book Refugia Faith by Debra Rienstra. Building on the concept of refugia in nature, and specifically how that resulted in the springing forth of life after the Mount St. Helens volcanic eruption much sooner than had been expected, it has been expanded to reflect how places holding a faith that will allow outbreaks of new life in a perishing world. We are looking at Dayspring and its ministries now through the lens of being a refugia in this broken world.
In the Quaker context, I wonder if the revelation that George Fox had on Pendle Hill reflected it being a special place of easier connection with the divine.
Bill, you may be right about Pendle Hill; and the concept of "refugia" seems very fertile.
The places in my own experience that have this quality are usually places of great tragedy. One such place for me is the cemetery at Buzuluk, Russia, featuring waves of loss of life, either human-caused or intentionally made worse. Another is a place in Kyiv that Judy described here: "Sitting in the Russian section."
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