Last Sunday I had the opportunity to worship at the Cathedral of St. Paul in Detroit, Michigan. The cathedral looks like what most of us think of when you hear the word: a large, gothic church with ornate windows and columns and a huge ambo (the fancy word for a pulpit) with one of those covers hanging over it.
But what really struck me about the cathedral was, of all things, the floor. The floor of the cathedral is covered in small square tiles about four inches across. These tiles are mostly various earthen colors of brown and gray, but interspersed among them are tiles of a cerulean blue. You see, the designer of the floor believed that blue was a holy, sacred color, and the closer you got to the altar, the more blue tiles you would see. Beyond the communion rail, the entire chancel area was covered in blue tiles. It was a striking, dramatic effect as you approached to receive the Eucharist.
We talk about being able to find God everywhere, but as the Church we also set aside space for sacred and holy purposes. This is because we believe that holiness is something that can become ingrained in parts of creation to the point where it becomes overwhelmingly palpable, like smelling the remnants of incense that has seeped into the porous rocks of a wall. For over a century people have trod the floors of Trinity with hearts light and heavy, the rafters have shook with the vibrations of hymns and prayers. Those echoes remain for us to savor, enjoy, and join.
This Sunday, take a moment to draw close, not just to our own sacred space, but to the God who calls us to closeness as we worship in this place and in the world.
Yours in Christ,