Holy Ground

Let me begin by reading a poem to you. It’s by Veronica Koperski. Her poem is called "Holy Ground", and it is a Christmas poem.

I shall seek no longer for the burning bush;
All bushes are ablaze.
And I will not hasten to depart
From daily grief and gladness
To climb a holy mountain;
Every mountain now is sacred,
Each marketplace, and every home,
All, all are blessed
Since God has pitched a tent among us.

Now on our earth are to be found
The footprints of the Word made flesh
Who walked with us in wind and rain
And under sun and stars,
In joy and sorrow,
Born of Mary, watched over by Joseph,
Eating and drinking, living and loving.

Dying yet living, the Word is made flesh
And all the earth,
And each of us,
Is holy ground
Where we must slip our sandals off
and walk softly, filled with wonder.

I shall seek no longer for the burning bush, she writes. The allusion, of course, is to the story of Moses in the desert. Moses was tending the flocks of his father-in-law in the wilderness and there appeared to him a flame of fire out of a bush; he looked, and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed. As Moses turned aside to see, God spoke to him out of the burning bush, saying, "Moses, Moses! Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground."

This was the first of quite a few direct encounters Moses was to have with God. God sent Moses down to Egypt where Moses brought God’s people together as a people and led them out of captivity. As Moses led the people of God through the wilderness, God spoke again to Moses, this time from a mountaintop. Scripture says: "Mount Sinai was wrapped in smoke, because the Lord had descended upon it in fire; the smoke went up like the smoke of a kiln, while the whole mountain shook violently… When all the people witnessed the thunder and lightning, the sound of the trumpet, and the mountain smoking, they were afraid and trembled and stood at a distance… while Moses drew near to the thick darkness where God was."

One of the things these ancient stories from the Hebrew Scriptures offer us is a picture of the people’s incredible sense of awe and reverence before the presence of God. Fear also, for the people were very aware of God’s immense power. The people recognized that God’s power was a power infinitely, unimaginably, beyond any power they themselves could muster. But the pervasive sense throughout these stories is of Moses’ and the peoples’ profound awe and reverence before the holiness of God.

Imagine. To be near to the presence of God was indeed an experience when time stood still. When even breathing or any wisp of movement was suspended. The overwhelming holiness of God would have washed all smaller thoughts and concerns out of mind. All of the plans and contrivings and concerns and anxieties and ambitions of daily life would become like half-forgotten dreams. All those messy and conflicted human feelings that clutter a woman’s or a man’s heart would seem gray and pale before the immensity of God’s presence. Wonder, fear, exhilaration, awe, reverence. To be in the presence of God. On holy ground. No wonder Moses took his sandals off.

This image of reverence is the gift of these ancient stories to us this Christmas. Perhaps these stories may help us capture and experience such wonder and reverence and awe before God as the ancient people of God knew in their lives. So that for us, too, time may stand still before the holiness of God, and all of our human littleness may fade to nothing in the face of God’s majesty.

To know this sense of awe and reverence is a marvelous Christmas gift. Yet we are given an even greater gift, of course, on this night. As the poem says, now on this night of the holy nativity all, all, is changed, since God has pitched a tent among us.

The ancient people of God knew God’s care and God’s powerful acts on their behalf. Yet the God they knew was in many ways a remote God. God’s life was separate from their lives except for those very specific, finite, occasions when God’s presence was revealed to them. Specific, finite, particular occasions. Moses met God one day in a particular bush that burned a specific place. In that bush on that day, God’s holiness shone forth before Moses, and Moses took his sandals off, for he was on holy ground. Or on the top of Mount Sinai God and Moses met. Not in the cave half way up. On the top. On the top of a specific mountain called Sinai. A specific place, a particular time.

But that was before God pitched a tent among us.

"I shall seek no longer for the burning bush," the Christmas poem begins. But this is not a statement of despair or disillusionment. Remember how it continues: "I shall seek no longer for the burning bush; / All bushes are ablaze. And I will not hasten to depart / From daily grief and gladness / To climb a holy mountain; / Every mountain now is sacred, / Each marketplace, and every home, / All, all are blessed / Since God has pitched a tent among us."

When the Son of God was born in human flesh in a manger in Bethlehem, all of God’s holiness, all of God’s majesty and power, came into the very midst of human life. No longer is God somehow separate from human life, to be met only in a peculiar bush or on a remote mountaintop. God’s holiness is with us, born into our hearts and homes. When Immanuel, God-with-us, was born, human life was made holy.

So we no longer need to go looking for God in rare and particular places. God has pitched a tent among us—a simple, everyday sort of tent—a tent put up maybe in the backyard or even the basement. God has sought us out and come to dwell with us in the midst of all of our humanity.

But just because the holy presence of God is as near as the beating of your own heart… just because the person sitting next to you offers you the full blessing of God’s presence, let us not lose our sense of awe and reverence before the holy presence of God. In the birth of baby Jesus, earth and heaven are joined and heaven shines forth all about us and within us. The holy spark of God is within us, within the heart and soul of each of us. Let us treat God’s holy presence with reverent awe and breathless wonder, with trembling fear and joyful homage.

"Dying yet living, the Word is made flesh / And all the earth, / And each of us, / Is holy ground / Where we must slip our sandals off / And walk softly, filled with wonder."

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