Holy Places

I recently wrote:

“The location for the event set the mood for contemplation nicely. Spending a day in a building 199 years old and worshipping in a building 238 years old (for a congregation celebrating 375 years years together) forces you to consider a broader span than we normally contemplate. Holy places draw us in, safely, opening us to more than we could get elsewhere.”

Upon rereading that passage later, I wondered, “did I leave the reader thinking holy places had to be old?”

For me, at the particular event, at my point in life, the historic nature of the buildings greatly enhanced the spiritual renewal I experienced through the events of the weekend. The history, role, and impact the buildings possess in relation to the spiritual history of the nation shaped my thinking as we contemplated ideas concerning the future of the broader Church - capital C. The age of the buildings helped, me at least, put the ideas into historical context. Similar discussions occurred in these buildings over their years of service.

Holy places that shape many do gain more recognition through time. Holiness is a characteristic separate from the construction and comes from the spiritual power felt in the location. The place does not require sanctification or dedication. It does not even require construction. Throughout the Bible, we find holy places wherever people encounter God. Moses had the burning bush and how many other natural locations. Jonah had the belly of a big fish. Prophets and apostles had mountain tops.

I have a small clearing in the wooded area at the back of my parents’ property.

The holiness of a place is always personal. I have been to many grand cathedrals in Europe and been dazzled by the art and architecture but felt nothing spiritual despite centuries of worship in the building. I have been in unordained sheet-rock halls and been silenced by the spiritual power in the place.

My experience in Providence motivated me to consider the holy places I have encountered. I cannot imagine what my life would be like without these various holy places. My holy places shaped my life. That natural clearing in the wooded area at the back of my parents’ property has possibly never had another human in it, yet it was a place where I had a deeply heartfelt conversation with God. When and where I will find the next holy place that shifts my life’s direction is up to God. My job is to be ready when it happens.

A Little Hiking

On my final day in New Mexico, I finally found a park with hiking trails that allowed dogs. This park experienced a major fire last year but has been spared this year from fires raging in New Mexico and Colorado. I went early in the day in hopes of making several of the trails before the day heated up too much. I arrive to find only two trails open. All the others were long walks through the scorched earth (only to be scorched earth themselves with “hike at your own risk” signs posted at the entrances and exits). Little of the wildlife viewing that they promised was available due to the fires the year before.

I was able to do the most historical, though least pleasing as far as nature hikes go, trail up to the caved in entrances to old coal mines. The trail wandered through the streets of the old mining town with little more than foundations remaining of the buildings that housed the miners and businesses that supported the mines. They were well identified with signs and photos from the heyday of the town and mining operations. The trail had clear markings and while there was quite a rise from the trailhead at the visitors center to the mouths of the mines.

I do have to wonder why they paved most of the trail with crushed black stone. Did they want the visitor to consider the black pits of the miners? I cannot say for certain what their motivation was, but it made for a blistering hot walk even in the relative cool of the morning. It made the walk especially uncomfortable for my dog and he regularly changed sides of the trail to walk in whatever shade the scrub-oak provided.

 

While the trail made only minimal promise of wildlife spotting, I did manage to look quickly enough toward a commotion in the brush and glimpse a black bear fleeing to the other side of a ridge through the low brush.

No - the bear is not in the picture, but the photo is where it would have been had it stayed still

A short distance up the path we found more proof of the bear and the answer to the question: Does a bear s*!# in the woods?

No. It does it in the middle of the trail.

Despite the discomfort of the trail, it did give me a chance to enjoy a bit of wild New Mexico up close. The next time I come to New Mexico (big if on that one) I will come on my own and find a place with more outdoorsy things to do and some trails that are actually functioning. 

 

A Little Bit of History

In order to force myself away from the busyness of work lately, I went to San Antonio for a couple days at the start of spring break to see some friends, eat out, and take in a bit of Texas history. It has been years since I toured the San Antonio missions, so with the perfect weather, I spent an afternoon leisurely strolling through and photographing the (non- Alamo) missions.

 With the beautiful weather and perfect skies, the crosses on the top of the churches on the mission grounds stood out so perfectly, it was impossible not to know one was in a sacred spot.

Over one of the old water wells was an elaborate piece of iron-work. I loved the workman marks in the metal.

 The walls still stand at Mision San Jose with the gun and cannon turrets. Down near the bottom you can see the hole through which a cannon would be fired to defend the mission. Above the cannon area hangs a shelf for gunners to shoot out with the muskets. The rifle holes are too small to be seen from the distance.

 The view out of the turret through the cannon hole. I would be the clumsy gunner who did not have the cannon pointed just right.

 The absolutely stunning Rose Window. It has to be seen to be appreciated. Photos cannot show the elaborate sculpture framing it.

The chapel at Mission Espada remains in use today with a private residence connected to it as does Mission San Juan.