I have witnessed theological arguments declaring that sacred spaces may only be created by the human hand. I found that to be ludicrous. To me, sacred spaces or places were mostly those that had remained untouched by human intervention, improvement or exploitation. They were to be found in the mountains, deserts and forests that we have struggled to protect as a nation. This to me was the only way to truly respect a mystical original creation and be restored by it. Over time I have been struck that some places and spaces built for community gathering and sharing can, with time, earn that same respect and become sacred. These sacred spaces deserve the same relentless dedication to preserve, protect and maintain.

Every time I climb this steeple tower, I am more aware of so many lives that have touched this place with their hearts and souls and hands and pockets. The times the bell has sung out a birth or tolled the years of a life ended. Even the sounding of the hour as I pass by on my way to work or the uncanny ability to ring at just the right point in a sermon. The inside of the steeple marks the long history of this congregation and its Meetinghouse differently than the way more familiar spaces do. They are all sacred spaces and depend on one another to be whole and complete. It takes time to see, but I can no longer let go of it.