WHERE
CAN I TOUCH THE EDGE
OF HEAVEN?
by Sylvia Maddox
Yet I have glimpsed the bright mountain behind the mountain,
Knowledge under the leaves, tasted the bitter berries red,
Drunk cold water and clear from an inexhaustible hidden fountain.
Kathleen Raine 1
“We
need to go to Bowden Springs,” my grandmother
would say when there was no running water at her rural home in
East Texas. “Bowden Springs.” Just saying the words
filled my heart with joy and delight. Bowden Springs had a luminous
quality that extended beyond the water we would gather in our tall
metal milking cans. There was the journey of climbing slowly up
the winding dirt road to the Springs. There was the surprise of
finding the overflowing water that seemed to come from nowhere.
Most of all, there was the joy of drinking and splashing in the
abundant water bubbling over the rocks. As a child I did not have
the words “sacred landscape,” or “holy site,” but
I had an intense experience of an actual place that vividly revealed
the Presence of God. The Scriptural words of “living water” were
echoed daily in that place.
In
the Celtic tradition such places that give us an opening into
the magnificence and wonder of that
Presence are called “Thin Places.” There
is a Celtic saying that heaven and earth are only three feet
apart, but in the
thin places that distance is even smaller. A thin place is where the veil that
separates heaven and earth is lifted and one is able to receive a glimpse of
the glory of God. A contemporary poet Sharlande Sledge gives this description.
“Thin places,” the
Celts call this space,
Both seen and unseen,
Where the door between the world
And the next is cracked open for a moment
And the light is not all on the other side.
God shaped space. Holy. 2
It
is no wonder that thin places are most often associated with
wild landscapes.
A thin place requires us to step from
one world to another and that often
means traveling to a place where we have less control and where the
unpredictable becomes the means of discovery. Rugged seacoast
like the Cliffs of
St. David’s,
windswept Islands like Iona, and rocky mountain peaks like Croagh
Patrick were thin places in ancient times and still call
out to pilgrims
today. These sanctuaries
of creation help us as John O’donohue writes, “to anchor
our longing in the ancient longing of Nature.”3
Once
I was on such a pilgrim to the Island of Iona. As I set out on
a solitary
journey for Columba’s Beach, I could feel the presence
of all those who had gone before me in their quest for a greater
vision
of God. Wandering over
the mountains and the valleys, I suddenly realized I was lost
and a long way from my destination. The mystery of the thin place
was
already revealing itself
to me. The outward journey was mirroring my inner journey. I
was lost but not afraid. There was a peaceful presence in the
eternal
rocks that seemed to offer
me shelter and guidance. As I stood on the pebbled beach, the
waves of the ocean seemed to whisper Jesus’ words,” I
am with you.” These
words could be said in a book, in a classroom, in a sermon, but
in
a thin place there is an immediacy of experience where words
of faith
become words of life. In this hallowed
space and time heaven and earth for a moment are one. I wanted
to sing the song of an anonymous 9th century
Welsh
poet:
Almighty
Creator, it is you who have made the land and the sea…
All your wonders, O true Lord!
The Father created the world by a miracle;
It is difficult to express its measure.
Letters cannot contain it, letters cannot contain it.4
We
return from thin places refreshed and renewed. We are graced
with a
new awareness of the thin places in all of life. Having
seen the glimpses
of
glory in those sacred landscapes, we begin to see glimpses
all around us. Soon the
birds outside our window sing of the mystery we might
have passed over in our busyness. Suddenly we see the holiness
of places
like Bowden Springs
and we
understand the awe and wonder of the Welsh minister
Thomas Jones who exclaimed:
Our
Lord is great, and great His praise
From just this one small part of earth,
Then what of the image of His greatness
Which comes from the whole of His fine work?
…What of the greatness and pure loveliness,
Of God Himself? 5
The
prayerfulness of this “one
small part of earth” encourages
us to seek out thin places from time to time
on our spiritual journey. One of the beautiful gifts of our understanding
of eternal time and space is that
when we cannot physically go to these places,
we can return to them in our memory and in our imagination. When I
have felt dryness in my prayers and meditations,
I often imagine that I am climbing the hill
to Bowden Springs and filling my spiritual milking bucket with living
water.
When I am overcome with small tedious
details and endless tasks, I close my eyes
and return to Iona. Sitting on Columba’s
pebbled beach, I hear the silent music and
feel the divine rhythm of the ebb and flow of God’s love.
I
invite you to reflect on the thin places in your own life. Where
is a place
that refreshes your
spirit and
opens the door
to the threshold
of
the sacred?
You, too, can return to this place in your
imagination and once again experience God’s Presence and receive
the peace of this Celtic blessing.
Deep
peace of the running wave
Deep peace of the flowing air
Deep peace of the quiet earth
Deep peace of the shining stars
Deep peace of the Son of Peace.
Copyright ©2004
Sylvia Maddox FOOTNOTES
1 Kathleen Raine, Collected Poems (Dublin: Allen
and Unwin, 1981) 107.
2 Sharlande Sledge, “Thin Places.” Nonpublished
3 John O’Donohue, Eternal Echoes (New
York:Harper Collins,
1999) 15.
4 Studies by Sir lfor Williams, ed. Rachel Bromwich, The Beginnings
of Welsh Poetry
(Amsterdam:
North-Holland Publishing Company, 1980) 102.
5 Thomas Parry, ed. The Oxford Book of Welsh
Verse (Oxford, 1962) 332-339.
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