In moving to Flat Rock, it occurred to me that its elevation is just a little lower than that of Croagh Patrick, that special place in Ireland where St. Patrick is said to have spent Lent interceding for the people of that land. For centuries, pilgrims have made their way to the top of the Croagh, scaling its heights with everything except actual mountain-climbing equipment! What is Croagh Patrick to these pilgrims? I observed it to be a high broad place of joy, vision, and exalted sharing.
I like the idea that Flat Rock might, in some way, be a Croagh Patrick to me. Maybe similar experiences of transcendence, creativity, and community are to be found on the plateau of these North Carolina hills.
St. John in the Wilderness
In the Celtic tradition of the early Middle Ages, hermits brought faith to hostile landscapes, and through their blessings and teaching, revealed fresh sacredness to the inhabitants of those places. Around their hermitages, settlements developed from which worship and healing flowed, often giving rise to churches we can still visit today.
And so it is that places come to be sanctified by memories of the presence of those who brought faith to them; and the communities that spring up in such places cannot help but reflect their founders’ own struggles with the demons of their times and the contrariness of the cultures in which they sought to form lives of faith.
Some founding saints were martyrs. Some were faithful hard workers. And some were benefactors who administered hospitality through creating space and providing support for the formation of the faith of others. In this last category, one might think of Margaret of Scotland, Elizabeth of Hungary, and the earliest members of churches like St. John in the Wilderness where Kathy has been called and I have found a new church family.
Topography
Hills stimulate a mindfulness that draws us into the present moment by focusing our thoughts and feelings on real-time activities like standing, climbing, and viewing.
A church built for proclamation, prayer, and communion brings us into a kind of mindfulness as well. (Or perhaps we could say spiritfulness.) It is a spiritfulness of remembrance, of doing all things for remembrance of Jesus.
As a hill involves us in the present, a church invites us into presence. A church on a hill can provide a distinctly heightened experience blending our own movement over the land with an awareness of God’s movement over the shapes of our lives. In this way, the hill location serves as one more layer of the reverence in which worshipers gather.
Regular visits to such places can serve as mini-retreats and pilgrimages enlivening our daily faith. And it is a privilege to work and serve around a holy hill, to be enlisted in the extension and expansion of the hospitality of its benefactor saints.
A High Place Done So Well
During my first Sunday service at St. John in the Wilderness, I was impressed with a sacred sense of our liturgical words being lifted from a high place already 2200 feet above the sea.
Not unlike the Areopagus in prominence and form, it is a place of elevated conversation. Rising above its surroundings but still visible from below, it is, like Calvary, a hill of presence. And it is a hill of consecration, encircled by history and the memorials of holy ones.
Echoes of glory can be heard from any holy hill as many a pastor has waxed eloquent about the Judean hills of Jesus’ birth. Through a wider lens, we can see the full circle of Jesus’ ascension from a mount as well. As the form of hills draws our attention to the wholeness of the earth, so our theology brings into view the complete shalom of Divine relationship with our world.
Necessarily couched in the dynamics of landscape, church architecture replicates the shapes of Creation, sensitively reifying the theology of our worship. This is particularly evident at St. John in the Wilderness and in virtually any Romanesque or Gothic structure.
Above the sanctuary is a veritable mountain range of arches: hillocks and peaks suggesting views of the earth with a firmament and clouds above. Down below, hills for preaching and scripture reading, slopes for worship (the choir loft), and many little knolls of kneelers for prayer. In the midst of it all, the altar, the place of communion.
Hills or Mountains
In considering high and holy places from many angles, I have wondered why we say, “on a hill” but “in the mountains.” Or for that matter, “at the beach.” For all these questions, there are good grammatical answers to be had.
More significant to the topic at hand might be the difference between hills and mountains. While there may not be to be a widely accepted definition of that difference, there does seem to be a general understanding that mountains are bigger than hills. Maybe a qualitative distinction can be made along the lines of elevation versus prominence. While the elevation of Flat Rock is roughly 2500 feet above sea level, the prominence of St. John in the Wilderness above its immediate landscape is only 30-some feet, a mere hill.
It strikes me that hills, and even some mounts, are places of accessibility. Yes, there is climbing to be done to reach the Areopagus or Calvary, even the Mount of Ascension (the Mount of Olives site) but most of us can make our way up those hills to meet with God. In contrast, Croagh Patrick, Ararat, Sinai . . . are austere heights reached by individuals for rare moments of religiosity on behalf of whole peoples.
Church
In coming to this new place, I have found myself asking if it is a place of retreat or a place of pilgrimage. Perhaps it is a thin place? And no doubt, it can be these things for those who might be passing through.
But as I have thought about making a life around its particular hill, of returning to the history and community of St. John in the Wilderness with great regularity, I have realized that it is, first and foremost, a church; a church being an accessible hill of sorts where religiosity can be integrated into daily life through God's hospitality. Not so prominent as Croagh Patrick, but a place for joy, vision, and exalted sharing, as well.
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