Thirteenth Sunday after Trinity 2023

 

How to stand on holy ground

Over the past couple of years, there has been a marked phenomenon, the rapid growth of numbers of people making a pilgrimage, whether walking [sections of] the Camino to Santiago de Compostella or, closer to home, St Cuthbert’s Way from Melrose to Lindisfarne. The reasons are many. In part, a reaction to the experience of lockdown, a sense of needing to make up for lost time, that has seen a strong bounce-back for all kinds of holiday abroad. In part, it ties in well with a popular interest in mental health and wellbeing, of the need to take time out for yourself. Pilgrimage has a long history within many of the world religions and also resonates with those who would claim ‘spiritual’ awareness—a sense of something more to life—and an appreciation of some of the structure of religious practice, without wanting to carry too much baggage, whether doctrines or debates or the demands of a permanent local congregation. But in truth there may be as many different reasons for going on pilgrimage as there are pilgrims.

For many, pilgrimage might be described as making a purposeful journey, and taking purposeful time away from everyday demands. But what difference does it make once you get home? What meaning does whatever we experienced there find back here? The book of Exodus records a life of pilgrimage, of learning how to stand on holy ground—wherever you happen to be stood. Our story begins with a man called Moses (Exodus 3.1-15).

‘Then Moses said, ‘I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.’ (Exodus 3.3)

Moses is going about his everyday tasks—his responsibilities towards his family—within a life that is not the life he had imagined for himself. He has been rejected by both his adopted family (the Egyptians) and his family-of-origin (the Hebrews). He has lost status, identity, rootedness, belonging. Along the way, he has also been welcomed into a new family, has made a new life, has rebuilt his world after (childhood trauma and adult) bereavement. So, in some regards, his world is smaller than it once was; in other regards, he has grown larger, to create room around his grief for life to go on. This is what surviving bereavement does to us: we will never be the same, but, against all probability, we are not consumed by the flames.

In any event, Moses is going about his everyday tasks, and he becomes aware of something out-of-the-ordinary. And he responds, ‘I must turn aside and look,’ I must turn from what I am doing (the world won’t fall apart without me) to behold this thing of wonder, and to ask why it exists—and why it continues to exist.

‘When the Lord saw that he had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, ‘Moses, Moses!’ And he said, ‘Here I am.’ (Exodus 3.4)

God sees that Moses is looking, and so God calls him by name. And Moses responds, ‘Here I am.’ We see that God knows us by name; and that where we are—the life we have, here and now—is the very place where we can meet God, if we are open to it. Not some other set of circumstances, some un-reality.

‘Then he said, ‘Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.’ (Exodus 3.5)

God wants Moses to know that the place he finds himself is holy ground. If he can learn that this place is holy ground, then, in time, Moses can learn that every place is holy ground, for every place is created by God, and God is glorified whenever this is recognised. This is true for any ground that we consider holy, any site of prayer or pilgrimage: finding ourselves there—and encountering God there—is practice for encountering God any- and everywhere.

God says to Moses, remove your sandals. Why? Because holiness is fragile and easily spoiled? I don’t think so—holiness burns like fire that does not go out. Perhaps it is because God does not want anything to come between us and holy ground, not even shoe-leather. Perhaps it is because the soles of our shoes cushion our sensitivity to the ground beneath our feet, allowing us to move quickly, too quickly to notice what God is doing, just to one side.

Learning how to stand on holy ground

Read  Exodus 3.1-15

 

Then Moses said, ‘I must turn aside and look at this great sight,
and see why the bush is not burned up.’
(Exodus 3.3)

Life is a miraculous gift, even if it is possible to lose sight of that. Where have you seen God’s presence in your life, perhaps out of the corner of your eye, perhaps through tear-filled eyes? Be still. Give thanks.

You might like to use the colouring sheet overleaf to slow down and have a conversation with God.

 

When the Lord saw that he had turned aside to see,
God called to him out of the bush, ‘Moses, Moses!’
And he said, ‘Here I am.’
(Exodus 3.4)

Your life is holy ground. Your life. The one you have, not the one you hoped to have. The same is true of every person you will ever meet.

Place a glass bead on the parish map to mark the places where you find yourself through the week. Pray for the people you meet there, that they would know God knows them by name and cares about them.

 

Then he said, ‘Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet,
for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.’
(Exodus 3.5)

Go outside, take off your shoes and socks, and walk around on the grass. Slowly. What do you feel?

We have two large lawns here at St Nicholas’ but if this feels a step too far why not try it in your own garden at home, or at the park. Or, if you prefer, walk barefoot on the beach. Pay attention to your body, to anything it may say to you, and to anything God may want to say to you through your body.