Reflections

A thin place is a place where the veil between this world and the Other seems especially thin. Like the waves of heat which make images bend and shimmer on an August afternoon, the perception of those who are aware of being in a thin place changes. They may sense it physically, with slight changes in their skin or scalp. They may sense it in some inner way - their awareness of the nearness of God may become sharper, for instance. And some people are more sensitive to thin places than others.

Thin places are not the same as spiritual events. In these, a person senses the nearness of God in some personal way. People I know have experienced this closeness to God during Holy Communion, for instance, or in certain dreams. Sometimes this spiritual closeness comes when they see something from which they know that a departed loved one is "all right" - with God. I even know at least one person who has visions. But these are spiritual events, not thin places. Spiritual events are experienced by one person; thin places are locations, and are usually identified as such by more than one person.

Many - even most - thin places are found outdoors. This isn't surprising when we consider that the earth is God's creation. (This is not the time for a theological discussion of science and religion, but let me say here that I find nothing in science that disallows my faith in God, and nothing in my faith that disallows the finding of science.) Often, these locations have been used for centuries or even millennia as places of worship. Those places used for worship by the ancient Celts or Native Americans still feel holy to many people today.

Is a thin place made that way by long worship and the faith of people who worship there? Is it just that way somehow? Is it made that way by God? Perhaps it doesn't matter. Perhaps it is what it is.

Entering our chapel at St. Paul's, one person turned to her host and said, "This is a thin place." Shes's not alone in feeling that. I've heard the same comment from a number of people, some strangers and some who belong to St. Paul's. Not all have said thin place, of course. Sometimes it's that they never feel alone in the chapel. Sometimes it's that they feel especially close to God. Somtimes, it's just that they love the chapel. I do, too - I feel especially close to God there, and I feel the company of many faithful people. And while I know that people have experienced all kinds of things there from the joy of weddings to the grief of loss, the quiet is never oppressive, only companionable. It's as though I have the company of many others, and not all of them from St. Paul's. In the chapel of St. Paul's, I feel the company of the Communion of Saints.

And that is what thin places are about.