Recently I was at a gathering for worship and the congregation sang an opening hymn which I found moving. It was soft and melodic. I don’t always follow the words when the tune speaks deeply to me, but this time I sang along and let the words speak to me, too. The music we used that morning did not indicate the source of the hymn. I knew I wanted to write about it, but also knew I needed to give credit. And so a little research yielded results.
The hymn is entitled, “We Are on Holy Ground.” It is from an album published in 2009 with the title, “A Changed Heart,” by David Haas. I did not know Haas, but a little more research unearthed some interesting information. He was born in 1957 and writes contemporary Christian music, mostly for the Catholic liturgical communities. He has studied both theology and music, which is revealed in the song I liked. I have decided he is someone I hope to meet some day!
I would like to share the words from the refrain and some from the three stanzas as we sang them that morning in worship. The refrain begins, “Here in this place…” I like this because it suggests the action of singing, worshipping, etc. is going to happen right now and right here. It is an experience for everyone gathered at the place at that time. I experienced the singing of the hymn to be an action of forming community. All of us who gathered there came individually. We came from our individual lives, pursuits, secrets and hopes. And yet in the process of gathering, we were being formed into a unity---a union that would become communion. The hymn aided this gathering process.
The refrain continues, “Here in this place, may hope be found.” This line spoke both petition and promise to me. On one hand, this became our petition---our prayer really. May we find hope in this place where the Spirit meets our spirits and in order to heal and to make whole. And it is promise---promise that the One to whom we pray does respond. The opening words began the joining of our spirits as we quested for the Spirit. I began to feel that power.
The refrain moved on with these words. “Deep in our hearts may love abound.” That felt like continued prayer. The words were a request for something more than superficiality. Our culture invites us to spend so much time at the surface of our lives---often drawn externally from our true self. Richard Rohr calls this living at our boundary and is the opposite from what the late Quaker writer, Thomas Kelly, assures a “deep, inner sanctuary of the soul.” I could imagine both Rohr and Kelly joining me in these words put to a gentle tune.
Of course, there is superficial love. But deep in our hearts is a love that we long to know and from which we pine to live. This is the kind of love Jesus taught and all the other sages from various religious traditions. It is the kind of love parents tend to feel for their children and saints seem to manage for all kinds of people. I am a parent, but am in kindergarten when it comes to knowing anything about saintly living!
The refrain goes on with a simple claim. It claims, “We are here.” Those simple words became powerful for me. The first thing I noticed was the first person plural is used: “we.” The communal gathering is taking place---in this place. In this place individual selves gradually join the Spirit in an act of uniting---forming union. And it is easy to realize there can be no communion without union. We can think about communion as the sacramental participation in the offering of the bread and wine. Or we can think about communion in a more Quaker metaphorical fashion where communion happens at this deep heart level where there need not be any outward elements, such as the wafer or the wine.
The song moved on. “Here in the presence of God.” That declares explicitly what is happening in the uniting of peoples’ souls. The Spirit is the Presence of God in this place. The Presence is a stark contrast to the normal Absence I feel when I am doing my own agenda in the world. At such times as these, I am aware of how much time I spend spiritually AWOL---living in the Absence.
The last line of the refrain sums it up. “We are on holy ground.” Of course, if you know any Bible stories, you can think of Moses at the burning bush. He was on holy ground. The good news is a burning bush is not necessary for there to be holy ground. I am sufficiently Quaker to feel like any place can potentially be holy ground. Where God shows up---becomes present---the ground becomes holy. It can happen in churches and cathedrals, to be sure. It can happen in a Quaker meetinghouse. I am confident it happens in nature and all over the place.
I am grateful when it happens to be individually. I am profoundly grateful when it happens communally and I get to experience it with others. Too often, we see the immediate experience is over, we go back to normal lives and opt to live in the Absence again. My petition is to learn to live in the Presence any place I find myself. I do think it is possible to know we are on holy ground all the time and in all places.
I thank God for that promise---a promise to meet me on holy ground.
The hymn is entitled, “We Are on Holy Ground.” It is from an album published in 2009 with the title, “A Changed Heart,” by David Haas. I did not know Haas, but a little more research unearthed some interesting information. He was born in 1957 and writes contemporary Christian music, mostly for the Catholic liturgical communities. He has studied both theology and music, which is revealed in the song I liked. I have decided he is someone I hope to meet some day!
I would like to share the words from the refrain and some from the three stanzas as we sang them that morning in worship. The refrain begins, “Here in this place…” I like this because it suggests the action of singing, worshipping, etc. is going to happen right now and right here. It is an experience for everyone gathered at the place at that time. I experienced the singing of the hymn to be an action of forming community. All of us who gathered there came individually. We came from our individual lives, pursuits, secrets and hopes. And yet in the process of gathering, we were being formed into a unity---a union that would become communion. The hymn aided this gathering process.
The refrain continues, “Here in this place, may hope be found.” This line spoke both petition and promise to me. On one hand, this became our petition---our prayer really. May we find hope in this place where the Spirit meets our spirits and in order to heal and to make whole. And it is promise---promise that the One to whom we pray does respond. The opening words began the joining of our spirits as we quested for the Spirit. I began to feel that power.
The refrain moved on with these words. “Deep in our hearts may love abound.” That felt like continued prayer. The words were a request for something more than superficiality. Our culture invites us to spend so much time at the surface of our lives---often drawn externally from our true self. Richard Rohr calls this living at our boundary and is the opposite from what the late Quaker writer, Thomas Kelly, assures a “deep, inner sanctuary of the soul.” I could imagine both Rohr and Kelly joining me in these words put to a gentle tune.
Of course, there is superficial love. But deep in our hearts is a love that we long to know and from which we pine to live. This is the kind of love Jesus taught and all the other sages from various religious traditions. It is the kind of love parents tend to feel for their children and saints seem to manage for all kinds of people. I am a parent, but am in kindergarten when it comes to knowing anything about saintly living!
The refrain goes on with a simple claim. It claims, “We are here.” Those simple words became powerful for me. The first thing I noticed was the first person plural is used: “we.” The communal gathering is taking place---in this place. In this place individual selves gradually join the Spirit in an act of uniting---forming union. And it is easy to realize there can be no communion without union. We can think about communion as the sacramental participation in the offering of the bread and wine. Or we can think about communion in a more Quaker metaphorical fashion where communion happens at this deep heart level where there need not be any outward elements, such as the wafer or the wine.
The song moved on. “Here in the presence of God.” That declares explicitly what is happening in the uniting of peoples’ souls. The Spirit is the Presence of God in this place. The Presence is a stark contrast to the normal Absence I feel when I am doing my own agenda in the world. At such times as these, I am aware of how much time I spend spiritually AWOL---living in the Absence.
The last line of the refrain sums it up. “We are on holy ground.” Of course, if you know any Bible stories, you can think of Moses at the burning bush. He was on holy ground. The good news is a burning bush is not necessary for there to be holy ground. I am sufficiently Quaker to feel like any place can potentially be holy ground. Where God shows up---becomes present---the ground becomes holy. It can happen in churches and cathedrals, to be sure. It can happen in a Quaker meetinghouse. I am confident it happens in nature and all over the place.
I am grateful when it happens to be individually. I am profoundly grateful when it happens communally and I get to experience it with others. Too often, we see the immediate experience is over, we go back to normal lives and opt to live in the Absence again. My petition is to learn to live in the Presence any place I find myself. I do think it is possible to know we are on holy ground all the time and in all places.
I thank God for that promise---a promise to meet me on holy ground.
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