The Sacred Profane

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I was already aware that the word profane has its roots in the architecture of the Temple. In Latin profanus refers to outside the temple. In particular, my understanding is that the porch out in front of the temple was a place for those who were uninitiated to gather, and even worship without defiling the sacred interior of the temple. 

In that understanding, it seems to me that that would be one of the holiest places. Those who were not allowed in, yet still wanted to draw near to the understood dwelling place of God. Those seekers, the God-fearers who in spite of being excluded, still showed up to be with God. 

Now, of course, we tend to use the word profane to refer to what I grew up calling cuss-words. Profanity (AKA swear words, dirty words, or taboo words) are words outside our decided canon of polite language. There's even a show on Netflix about those words right now. On a recent work day at Mustang Island, one of our group pondered what Jesus, who grew up a carpenter, shouted when he hit his thumb. A funny question that I didn't attempt to answer. 

One of my mentors directed me to find the sacred within the profane. Psychologically, there is often spiritual-gold hidden in those areas of our life we consider unworthy, unholy, or unpresentable. Those parts of ourselves we keep hidden away often unconsciously. People who pay attention to their dreams often find important dream-scenes taking place in a bathroom. The bathroom may be the place we are most unguardedly ourselves. We spend time there early and late and we are exposed for who we really are. In the bathroom, we are not what we choose to present as our public persona, for example. 

Some of these profane thoughts were running through my mind as we set up for church Sunday. We moved a beautiful altar to the porch of our church and invited folks to bring their beach chairs to sit in the parking lot. It was all so beautifully, and literally profane...at least in the older sense of the word. We brought the sacred out to the profane. At one point, I was reading the gospel as someone drove their lawnmower around the corner to work. As I celebrated, I had a clear view down Avenue E, and was probably more aware of our location in Port Aransas than when I offer prayers from the chancel with the doors closed. 

I am praying for beautiful weather as we continue through this Coronatide. I hope people see our profane church services and even join in with us; other seekers all gathered there where we understand God to dwell. We can all practice bringing our whole selves, the parts we consider sacred and the parts we consider profane, to be in communion with God. 

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