Sacred Space Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18

The passage from Genesis is full of images that are, at once, strange and beautiful. One should not try to write or speak about every part of the story. I, for one, will not be spending time this weekend imagining the various pieces of animal flesh surrounding Abram as fire passed between them. I just returned from a conference in North Carolina, and they have the best barbecue anyway. The part of the Genesis passage that appeals to me most is the portion where the Lord takes Abram out alone and asks him to look at the stars and to try to number them, for such will be the number of his descendants. One of my fondest memories from my youth was of a stargazing expedition which was a part of a Boy Scout weekend at out troop's cabin. Several of us were accompanied by our scout leaders to a field, with nothing but flashlights and star charts as equipment. I can still remember the silence, the almost supernatural stillness of that night. Our cabin was isolated, and the sky was pitch black, except for millions of twinkling stars. I mention this experience because it was a time in which I sensed the presence of God so keenly. I think the Genesis passage gives us an opportunity to ask ourselves the following question:"When or where do I sense God's presence in a way that is true in no other place?" Do we have places that are set apart, where we feel a sense of something supernatural so strongly that it changes us anew each time we are there? Why do we sense it? How do we explain it, if we can, in fact, do so? When we find ourselves in that place, do we seem to have a different sense about ourselves than we do when we reside in other places? Does the time spent in those special places enable us to accomplish things as a result of being there that we are not as able, or willing to do otherwise?
I believe that these questions might have been asked by Abram, because theophanies tend to cause such introspection. However, my recent trip back to a place that has been significant to me for all of my adult life had no light shows or flames in the night. Rather, it was so much like my childhood experience of stargazing: there was just an assurance of a presence of One beyond myself and others. The One who was present was simply reminding me of all that has transpired in my life thus far, and of the experiences, good and bad, that have made me the person that I am. I live my life in the midst of an academic community that bustles everyday, and students do not have much opportunity for solitude. I worry sometimes that they do not know how to handle silence, and so, do not seek it out. There is a danger, then, that they may have difficulty finding the kind of sacred space in which the presence of Another is undeniable. Perhaps the story of Abram can entice them to want to find such a place.