The Oates Journal (ISSN: 1098-1446) is a publication of the Wayne E. Oates Institute addressing issues related to spirituality, ethics, and healing from the perspective of pastoral care and counseling.

Psalm 138

I will bow down toward your holy temple

and praise your Name

(Book of Common Prayer)

“The Lord is in his holy temple: Let all the earth keep silent before him.” Every Sunday at camp in Vermont, the assembled 8 to 12-year-olds, wearing white shorts and shirts, sang this introit as we sat on benches in a circle under tall pine trees, the sun filtering through into this small woodland chapel. If ever there were a holy temple, this was it.

There is a chapel at our place in Maine. It too has a bench, a plank spanning two logs, under a bower of spruce trees. The sun sifts through the needles when it’s not foggy. Nobody can see me when I’m there, except a red squirrel who chatters at me—it is his temple, too. My friends are the ancient trunks that surround me. With the exception of the squirrel, we all pay homage to the oldest and wisest inhabitant, an ancient spruce with a deep gash in her side. She has suffered and survived. She is a healer, one who has experienced brokenness, and she shares her wisdom with the assembled spirits. She knows that the bodies that she and I and the others occupy are also temples, no matter what our state of woundedness, and that to dwell in them is to inhabit the holy.

Our little congregation takes in the dampness and earthy smell of the soil, the feel of the soft ocean air. We bow down and enjoy the sacred moment.

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