The traditional site of Jesus' crucifixion is where the altar is, in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, in Jerusalem.

The Christian faith Tradition contains many polarities. (A polarity is two truths that are equally true, but contradictory. The two truths must be held in tension.) One such polarity is that God is at the same time transcendent (God is holy, “other,” mystery that cannot be understood) and God’s immanent (this means God in human flesh, God who is always with us, God our friend).

Within the Christian Tradition, the tradition of American Protestantism currently undervalues God’s transcendence, and gives much too much emphasis to God’s immanence.

I’ve been attuned to God’s transcendent holiness since returning from Israel.

For instance, last week, the daily lectionary I use led me through Hebrews, which is full of mystical references to the holiness of God. As an example, think about this:

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen….By faith we understand that the worlds were prepared by the word of God, so that what is seen was made from things that are not visible.” (11:1, 3)  It would take months of prayer to begin to understand that!

Holiness was a major theme in the appointed readings for this morning’s worship.

We read the call story of Isaiah (Is. 6:1-13).  Isaiah envisions God’s presence, replete with six-winged seraphs, and smoke, and hot coals on the altar. The certainly is not God our friend! It’s a vision of God as a terrifying presence! How does Isaiah react?  By saying, “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!”   An appropriate reaction to God’s holiness!

This morning’s gospel passage was the miraculous catch of fish in Luke 5:1-11. (To see what I said about that story, check out the sermon posted on this web site.) This, too, is a story about God’s holiness. When so many fish are caught that both boats are about to sink, Simon Peter reacts by saying to Jesus, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!”

I’ve been attuned to God’s transcendent holiness since returning from Israel.  But it is hard for me to envision God’s holiness in a typical antisceptic Protestant worship space. In such a space it is easy to think of God who is our friend, and the community of the church as a gathering of friends. And, of course, that is true! That is one end of the polarity.  But the other is equally true, and must be held in tension.

God’s holiness is emphasized in an orthodox worship space — where what the priest does to prepare the bread and wine to be the body and blood of Christ is actually done behind a screen! It’s too holy for non-ordained worshipers to visit, or even to see!

In addition, with its icons and art work and lamps and incense, an orthodox worship space engages the whole person — not just the mind (which is where we Protestants excell, with our emphasis on clarity of theology) – but also the senses of sight and smell. An orthdox worship space lifts the worshiper beyond himself or herself.

I wonder how we can do a better job of balancing both ends of the polarity?  That is our task, it seems to me.

At St. Stephen, our worship space places Christ in the center.  We, the community, are gathered around. We see each other’s faces! We are drawn together, in our community.

I try to call attention to God’s holiness by the way I lead the liturgy.  Can the words and actions of the liturgy draw us into the mystical holiness of God who cannot be defined; God who cannot be reduced to what we understand; God who is present in the mystery of the bread and wine become body and blood? As I lead liturgy, I pray that that will be so.

Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem.