Sacred Spaces: To All the Gods
Rachelle’s back from another trek through Europe…it must be time to talk about sacred spaces involving stones, and pagan roots.
Of all the beautiful churches and temples in Rome, the Pantheon is my absolute favorite. The Pantheon was dedicated to all (pan) the gods (theos) in 27 B.C. and is the only building in Rome to be in continuous use as a place of worship since its inception. (This means it will be celebrating its 1,400 birthday next year.) Like most ancient sites in Italy, the Christian church has managed to remove most of the pagan influences, cannibalizing its copper ceiling and decking out its original spare interior with Renaissance and Baroque madness. Still, I adore the way ancient-to-modern beliefs are layered there, one on top the other, in a dizzying expression of post-modern spirituality. (What I wouldn’t give to plan an alt.worship service here. What do you say Maggi and Paul? Got any contacts?)
For my friends who worship at the altar of science, the dome itself is a mathematical wonder, spanning a distance as high as it is wide (142 feet). It’s the model for the Duomo in Florence, St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, and the White House in Washington D.C. The last time I came to stand under its wonder, the temple was relatively empty, and I could gaze unobstructed at the Pantheon’s most famous pillar — the ray of light shining through the oculus of the dome and extending down to the 1,800 year old marble slabs on the floor. It was raining then and the water flowed through the opening, adding body and shimmer to the column of light. The feeling behind that light-and-water phenomenon was akin to seeing a total eclipse, or spotting Halley’s Comet on its rare path across our visible sky. Priceless.
This visit was different– the temple was busy with throngs of people enjoying the cooler climes of the soft edges of tourist season, and it was noisy with conversation. Still, Catie and I managed to find an empty bench and a relatively peaceful moment. She huddled next to me as we sang Taize chants and the Kyrie in Latin under our breaths. As soon as we finished our short repertoire a choir suddenly appeared in one corner, filling the space with Gregorian chant and showing off the stunning acoustics. Unlike the polite hush honored by visitors at Westminster, the crowd here remained buzzing and inattentive to the opportunity to enter into liminal, holy space. But Catie and I found it there, crouched on the corner of a new wooden pew, bathed in centuries of song, and a single beam of light.
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October 15th, 2008 at 6:25 am
What an amazing experience Rachelle! You have painted it so beautifully with your words, I can feel the busyness but I can also feel the cocoon of peace you and Catie were able to weave on your wooden pew. Truly that is was the essence of life is all about, finding the eye of the storm– the order amidst the chaos. Stunning.
October 15th, 2008 at 9:18 am
If I had been there, I’m afraid I would have been simmering mad about everyone else’s lack of reverence and their unwillingness to be bathed in quiet and awe—no matter what their beliefs. Your ability to overcome all that and find your own reverent place is inspiring. I need to work on cultivating that kind of response when the world around me isn’t behaving the way I want it to. :) Thanks for shining a light on that.
October 16th, 2008 at 2:37 pm
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