The “Thin Places” of Our World

The rain showed no signs of letting up as we careened down the narrow road to Pennant Melangell, a tiny settlement in mid-Wales. Melangell was a Celtic saint who was a recluse in the area. The story goes that one day a nobleman was hunting hares. One of the frightened animals sought refuge under the gown of St. Melangell, who was praying in the woods. When the nobleman came upon the scene, he recognized at once the holiness of Melangell and gave her leave to stay in solitude on his lands.

For over a thousand years, Christians made pilgrimages to this place and worshipped in the parish. Sadly, the diocese let the roof cave in on the old church. It become a ruin. Yet something happened. A strong spirit of resolve and yearning arose among the people. As a result, this church in the middle of nowhere was completely restored and the shrine of St. Melangell was returned to its original state. Even though there was no longer a supporting parish, the yearning for this holy place was too great to allow it to fall by the wayside.

During my sabbatical in Wales, I had the opportunity to stand in many places where Christians have worshipped for centuries. Some of these places were sites of holy groves or sacred springs which attracted Druids from before the Iron Age. These are often referred to as “thin places,” where one can feel Presence--places where the barriers between this world and the next are almost obliterated.

While in such thin places, I often found my heart filled with thoughts of St. Mary’s in Chappaqua. I have often felt that it, too, is a thin place. Perhaps the ground on which it is built was sacred to the indigenous populations that came before us. The sense of Presence at St. Mary’s is more than grounds and buildings--much more. It is you and me and the yearning we share as we answer the call to come to this community of faith.

Imagine the power that yearning has in our lives together at St. Mary’s. It calls us to a ministry of servanthood in which we transmit to our children the ancient truth and wisdom of our Christian tradition.

We come together in a thin place to share our private yearnings around a table, saying words in a rite that is thousands of years old. We sacrifice our “life blood” in the offertory to meet the yearning needs of our community and world.

And we gather from time to time to prepare clothes, food, and toiletries for those who are living on the streets of New York City. When we do this, we offer ourselves as a living sacrifice. The same is true when we prepare lunches and presents for the women at Bedford Hills Correctional Center or when we reach out to Habitat for Humanity, A-HOME, or the Women’s Shelter. All of this, and much, much more happens because you and I come together around a table to stand naked in presence.

At Pennant Melangell, something wonderful happened after the church and shrine were restored. Suddenly Christians from around the world have begun to make pilgrimages to this thin place again, and a hospice for cancer patients grew up in that thin place. A ministry of servanthood called faithful Christians to come and give of themselves for the rest and repose of others. This would not have been possible if the people of that diocese had failed to answer the yearning that called on them to take action to save Melangell.

Did you know that at one time, decades ago, the Diocese of New York was considering closing St. Mary’s? It seems unthinkable now, but at the time the membership was getting too thin. Thankfully, the faithful few held out, and the parish was saved to become a sacred well in our midst to replenish us and strengthen us to teach, to serve, and to stand in God’s Presence and each other’s.

I have missed you all in the past four months, and I have a great yearning to be with you. As we start another fall of programming and activities at St. Mary’s, let’s keep in touch with the yearning that calls us together: the love we have for each other, the love of God, and service to our children and others.

Let us with joy revel in our thin place.

Joel t