Sacred and Profane –Holy and Unholy
Heaven and Earth
The way home was narrow.
Darkness enshrouded us. A few lights in the distance flickered here and there. I hoped the jeep did not break down. I hoped the lions stayed away. I hoped the giraffe were not on the road. I hoped the hyenas were safe in their dens. It’s not safe to be riding around in the dark in Lewa, Kenya, as we were doing. But the elephants we had seen at sunset were magnificent. So were the stars in the heavens. So were the zebra we saw at the side of the road.
Elephants at Dusk
What is sacred and what is profane? What is holy and what is unholy? Why do we care? Because when you are speeding down a profoundly rutted road in an open jeep on the African savannah with wild animals all around you, some of whom are quite dangerous, you CARE! When that road goes up and down over a number of hillsides and your driver is still going as fast as he can, believe me, you care. Sort of a Mr. Toad’s wild ride, African style! I wrapped a Maasai blanket around me, hoped for the best, and said some prayers. Hope and prayer are holy. Because when you say a prayer or hope for the best, you are placing yourself in the hands of God, whatever you call Him, whatever you call the holy powers of the universe. What is profane is the fear, the fear that your life could be lost, utterly uselessly, the fear that wild animals will gore you to death or have you for dinner, or that you will be lost in the wild, perhaps never heard from again . . . and other catastrophic thoughts. The holy act of hope, of prayer, takes us away from the profane, catastrophic fears.
The world is a dangerous place. Nothing is guaranteed. Security is an illusion we hold onto as tightly as we clung to our mothers in infancy. We may begin the day with a prayer or hope for a safe day, but the reality is nothing is guaranteed. It begins with walking across an icy sidewalk or standing at the corner to cross the street at a busy intersection. And then there’s the urban jungle, full of possibilities for trouble. Thoughts that pull us into awareness of our fears, thoughts that pull us into awareness of earthly troubles are profane. Actions that take us out of our fears and earthly troubles, while maintaining full awareness of them – actions like hope and prayer – are holy because they lift us out of the troubles, the worries, the fears, while we are fully aware that the fears and troubles exist. The profane is where we start; the holy restores us to wholeness. Fear can shatter our dignity. It can fragment our experience of the world. It can disable us. But holy actions reduce the fear, elevate our consciousness, open us to sources of information that intuitively guide the process of safety finding, problem solving, enabling us, providing wholeness to our experience, dignifying the struggle.
There is another source of the sacred, the holy. It is the interpersonal realm. In 2007, I was hospitalized with a massive case of C- diff, a bacterial infection that ulcerated my colon. For days I lay in that hospital bed with my husband at my side. Not only did he help calm my fears, not only did he help me to the toilet umpteen times a day, not only did he wash my face – all risking his own exposure to this highly contagious disease, when he saw my strength ebb, he called in my friends, people who would pray for me, my younger sister who prayed for me day and night, people who would help bind me to this world when I was slipping away much too soon. He stayed with me night after night until his own body could take it no more, and then he called my older sister to come help. My heart was deeply warmed by each and every loving action, each smile, each caress, each bit of help he provided. My older sister was a nurse. She dropped her life and came to help me in a truly selfless way. She listened to each trauma, for this was quite a traumatic experience. She offered me her best wisdom to get me through recovery. She brought me books for my soul and food for my body. What my husband did and what my sisters did for me were acts of holiness. So much love was shared. So much care was given. So many prayers were said. They elevated my life, and I returned from the edge of the abyss, of death. In the weeks following my hospitalization, while I was yet recovering, I began to meditate daily, to search my soul for what would enable me to heal completely. The care and love we give one another, despite the most difficult of experiences, elevates both giver and receiver. These are sacred acts of holiness.
When have you felt most afraid? How do you respond to danger? Have you ever been extremely ill? What got you through? What enables you to hope, to pray, to be healed or made more whole? What are the sources of help that pulled you through key times and times of illness or danger?
Where do you find holiness? Where do you find the sacred?
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