As with so many things in life, size and space are relative and are a matter of one’s perspective. A month or two ago when the foundation of the new chapel provided only a ground level outline of the building, it seemed to me rather small. I had to go back to the drawings and check the measurements to reassure myself that the new chapel would indeed provide the extra space we needed. Now that the walls are up, however, and there is a partial roof over the sacristy wing, the space seems impressively large. It is a paradox of our perception that enclosing a space can make it actually seem larger rather than smaller. In the same way, out of doors with the open sky above us we do not think of height; but a cathedral with its columns and vaulted ceiling can take our breath away. Space is a matter of psychological perception as much as it is of physical cubic feet.

Space is also a sacred or spiritual reality as much as it is a physical one. A newly acquired book for our library is the Dictionary of Biblical Imagery. Given my preoccupation of late with church architecture it is not surprising that in browsing its pages I paused to read attentively the article on “sacred space.” The article defined this as “a place where God is encountered in a special or direct way” and “a point of reference to which people return.” Interestingly, this return can be made not only physically but also in memory. A sacred space can be so internalized that one can go there, can orient oneself toward it, even when not physically present.

The sacred space without equal in the Old Testament is the Temple. It is separated from us in space and time but it remains for us a place of pilgrimage. Through the powerful communal memory of the people of God we continue to enter its courts. The concrete imagery of Hebrew poetry in the Psalms makes even those of us who have never been to the Holy Land declare, “Our feet have been standing within your gates, O Jerusalem!” (Ps 122). We have also thought of God’s steadfast love in the midst of His temple (Ps 48:9) and in thanksgiving we have bowed down toward it (Ps 138:2). Somehow it is possible to remember “how I went with the throng, and led them in procession to the house of God” (Ps 42:4), and the soul “longs, yea, faints for the courts of the Lord” (Ps 84:2).

More contemporary and far less significant sacred spaces, our churches and the chapel here at St. Augustine’s, can also insinuate themselves into the hearts and minds of worshipers. From time to time guests have related to me how they carry the memory of the worship they have shared in our chapel when they return home to their everyday life. The experience of having shared in the Benedictine monastic pattern of prayer throughout the day has created an internal rhythm of prayer. Even though physically separated from our observance of the Daily Office they continue to feel a part of it. In the morning or evening they remember how these “hinges” of the day are marked by Lauds and Vespers. Upon retiring they may remember the tranquil prayer of Compline or, waking in the darkness before morning, that this is the hour for Vigils.

We who live at St. Augustine’s are grateful for the visits of those of you who, for greater or lesser amounts of time, or on Sundays, physically participate in the Liturgy. We can be grateful as well that many of you return in memory to pray with us even when you have physically departed. One of the functions of monastic prayer with its ever renewed cycle of psalmody is to serve as a daily sign of the covenant between God and all His people. It is good that when we gather for prayer throughout the day we sense your presence with us and the prayerful intentions you direct toward this place. The claim made in the Invitatory Psalm 95 that “we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand” is sung for you as well. You share with us the vocation to “come into his presence with thanksgiving.” When we pray for “this holy house, and for all those who offer here their worship and praise,” we are interceding for the needs, known and unknown, of all who reverence this space as a place of prayer.

Now that I can see the physical walls of our new chapel I am reassured that it will be a spacious building able to accommodate our guests in an uncramped environment. I would hope that as more and more guests pass through its doors they will then return to it in memory and that it too would become a place of spiritual reference even as our old chapel has been for many. May our new chapel and all our earthly houses of worship inspire within us the aspiration of the psalmist: “One thing have I asked of the Lord, that will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in his temple” (Ps 27:4).

Sincerely,
Fr. Richard G. Herbel