Sacred Space

Well, back to Utah.

True to form one of the first things I ate had bacon, beef, and cheese. All cooked in the same kitchen and all between the same pieces of bread.  That being done I had a three hour nap. I then woke up for a few hours before sleeping for another 10 hours. Yeah, it feels good. The new house is fun, the new kitten is funner. Everything seems incredibly green. All the houses seem very far apart and I’m constantly shocked to not see trash lining the streets. The mountains form a spectacular backdrop for life and the air, in a very non-typical way for summer, is miraculously clear. I walk out the front door and see the very nice houses of suburbia United States, the tall green trees of Utah, and the shimmering tower of the Jordan River Temple a few blocks away. When it comes down to the line, I’m just a big Utahan at heart.

My cousin who has a mission call was visiting for the week preparing for the big change. As he was covering the new ground his parents determined that a trip to the Salt Lake temple was a good idea so I found myself (which was absolutely okay with me) walking into the Celestial Room of the Salt Lake Temple some 69 hours after bidding farewell to the Garden of Gethsemane.  I laid my hand on the door leading into the single holiest spot in my faith tradition and remembered some six days earlier I had stood at the foot of THE rock which marked the spot of the Holiest spot on earth 2000 years ago. Who am I and what have I done to deserve access to this sacred ground?  From the rock where Abraham failed to sacrifice Isaac to the door of the room where only the Presiding High Priest of the living Church of Jesus Christ has access for some reason within the span of a week I visited them both.

I hold the Salt Lake Temple to be sacred space. I honor and respect the building and the grounds as sacred symbols of the Love of God for mankind. I also believe that the destroyed temple of the Jews was sacred space. I do not know what happens to dedicated ground when the building that graces it is destroyed. But that same piece of ground is still held sacred for 15 million Jews, 900 1.6 billion Muslims and, well I don’t know how many Christians believe in it.

I visited the temple mount in Jerusalem a handful of times during my stay there. Each time was a little different. The first time I was slightly put off by the apparent lack of care the area was given. Compared to Temple Square the precincts are filthy and the gardens unkempt. The next time I was able to move past that I felt the tension of the world focused on that spot. Then I noticed the Muslim men who gathered under the trees to discuss and learn about the Koran. I realized that this was still a place of worship for the divine King over all. I saw the scores of people that walked up there to answer the call to prayer every day dressed in the most uncomfortable clothes I could imagine wearing in such weather. Their faith and their devotion makes that ground sacred. Although that sense of sacred doesn’t extend to me I still respect that land out of respect for what it means to them. My final visit to the temple mount we paid off some people and gained access to the Dome of the Rock and the Al Asqa Mosque. There I saw finely carved panels and carefully cared for carpets; Beautiful stain glass windows and gold gilding everything. There was the famous Rock which from my perspective is the source of so much turmoil in the world. It is very large. The building reminded me, in terms of attention to detail and sparing no expense, of a the celestial room I was destined to walk into some six days later.

I realize my thoughts are disjointed. I may never comprehend what I’ve been through. But I challenge all the world to question themselves about what sacred space is to them. For me the Dome of the Rock is sacred space, but not as sacred as the Salt Lake Temple. My home is sacred, even though my family has moved and I have no permanent residence whatever space I designate as home becomes sacred. For that reason there is a high mountain lake surrounded by spruce and fir that I consider sacred. There is a taco stand in Mount Clair California that I consider sacred (obviously on a personal level) because of a miracle I witnessed there. For me, space becomes sacred because of actions that occur there. The space is sacred not because the rock or the walls, or the carpet or the taco grease is different or special but because it draws the soul to remembrance of sacred interactions with the divine.

My final point. A few days ago I walked under the trees of Gethsemane. I touched the soil and the olives. I breathed the air and watched the pilgrims walk past. Do those things make it sacred? No, it was my memory being drawn to a dark night two thousand years ago where a man felt the ultimate suffering under similar trees in a spot that may or may not have been where I was. His action made that place sacred that day. Our thoughts make that place sacred today.

Dear friends, there is a God in Heaven. I realize I need to write less because no one wants to read a 1000 word blog entry and then no one will read the last line. Maybe someday I’ll get one of my grand kids to edit this stuff down into a manageable size.  We are all in the hands of an all-knowing God. I do not know why exactly I have been taught the things he chose to teach me this summer. I don’t know exactly what my next step is. But He has assured me again and again that he is in control and he knows why I was there and why I am here. I am eternally grateful for his kindly eye that ever watches over my path.