Thin places
24/03/14 05:41
I am not completely sure of the origin, but I associate the concept of “thin places” with Celtic spirituality, a variety of Christian devotional practices coming from Ireland and Scotland. The rise, in recent decades, of the popularity of Celtic spirituality has much to do with the influence of the Iona Community in Scotland. I don’t really have a bucket list, but a visit to the island of Iona and a period of living with the community there is definitely an attraction for me. Music, spiritual practices, and concepts that have arisen from that community have influenced the way that I think about and practice my faith.
A thin place is any place where the presence of the divine is experienced. The word “thin” refers to the boundary between heaven and earth. People experience this boundary as especially thin in certain places. I have a problem with the language there because I think that describing the distinction between heaven and earth as a boundary is itself misleading. We have been raised with concepts like the gates of heaven that lead us to believe that there is some kind of fortress with guard towers that is especially hard to enter. I suspect that the true nature of God’s realm is much different. It is a place focused on the power of hospitality and the joy of entrance. Thinking of a boundary between God’s realm and the experiences of this life creates a false notion that God is limited to a particular place. From my perspective, the entire concept of incarnation - God become flesh - is the elimination of any boundary or barrier between God and human existence. In Christ, God is human. In Christ this life we experience is very much God’s place.
That said, I do know that there are places that exhibit great power for me. There are places where I feel the connection with the divine more easily. Natural beauty seems to be a part of my experience of thin places. When I watch a sunrise from my canoe in the midst of a lake in the hills, thoughts of God’s creative power come naturally. My mind flows towards hymns of praise. The beauty so surrounds me that I feel immersed in God’s glory. The reality is so wonderful that I have no ability to imagine anything more beautiful.
I suppose I have that feeling more often on the surface of Sheridan Lake than any other place simply because I go there more often. But I have felt it in many different places. The majesty of the peaks of the North Cascades in Washington, the power of the spine of the continent in the string of parks from Glacier in the US to Jasper in Canada, the rush of the sea air coming off of the Puget Sound, the lush vegetation of Costa Rica, the green-upon-green layering of the English countryside, the trickle of water coming off of the snowmelt in the high country in Montana, the flow of the Yellowstone River through paradise valley, the rise of a trout on the Boulder River - I could list hundreds of places that seem to me to exhibit God’s glory to anyone who experiences that place.
In 2006, we invested a sabbatical in exploring the concept of thin places, starting with Lakota sacred sites close to home, continuing with an exploration of sites in British Columbia, and concluding with a trip to the center of Australia and a pilgrimage to Uluru. We experienced overwhelming beauty. We were torched by the sacred. We discovered many places where we felt close to God and experienced God’s awesome creative power.
I in no way want to diminish the power of place. I know how people can be moved to deep religious experience and experience God’s presence by a beautiful place. I seek out beautiful places with great intention. Our people have named spaces as sacred for our entire history. The Bible speaks of Eden as a thin place. Mt. Sinai is a key place in the story of our people learning about God. From the burning bush to the covenant of the law, Moses finds Sinai to be a place where the encounter with God is inescapable.
But out people also have had incredible experiences of God in motion. God is not attached to a single place. It seems to almost have come as a shock to Abram and Sarai that God was in the new place when they journeyed away from family and familiar. The pillar of cloud by day and fire by night taught us a lesson about God calling us not to linger in one place, but to keep on the move. For generations our people worshiped in the tabernacle and tent of meeting precisely because we were on the move and we needed to be reminded that God calls us away from the familiar and guides us in the wilderness.
So, in 2011, a half decade after our explorations of thin places, we invested a sabbatical in the exploration of the concept of “thin times” or “thin experiences.” When we think of our relationship with God in terms of key experiences rather than key places we also discover God’s presence easily in events. The birth of a child or grandchild, the experience of baptism and marriage in the community of the church - these are certainly experiences of God’s presence. And, that year we discovered God’s presence in the journey of grief and loss. That feeling was so powerful during that particular year that we even experienced a sense of increased distance from those who had not shared the journey of grief with us.
It is probably a misquote, but I believe that Kierkegaard said something like, “Life must be lived forward, but it is best understood looking backward.” We have the option of both. We live our lives in their own pace and are called to new places by the power of God, but we are possessed of memories that allow us to look back and reflect on meaning.
These days, I think that I am quite comfortable with experiencing God in places that aren’t famous for their beauty. A hospital room, the hospice house, the home of a family who has lost a loved one - these are sacred places where God’s presence is close indeed.
When we look back, it seems to me, the wonder is that God has been close all along - everywhere. Perhaps every place is a thin place - especially the place where we find ourselves right now.