Kanuga Chapel
“The God who existed before any religion counts on you to make the oneness of the human family known and celebrated.”—Archbishop Desmond Tutu.
The Chapel of Transfiguration at Kanuga Conference Center in North Carolina has always been a place where the family of God is celebrated in many diverse ways. I love the outer and inner appearance of the chapel, made of southern Carolina white pine from trees downed in a severe storm in 1936.
My mind always wanders as I sit in the chapel, waiting for any service to begin, and I remember more. The wood for the chapel was not pretreated, so there are these unusual dark oval markings on the wood, left by the oil of the workers’ fingerprints. The simple prints are more prominent on the ceiling, where it was more difficult for builders to work.
When I am in the chapel, I feel surrounded by the thousands of prayers of people on retreat who have worshiped here, and by the hands of those who labored on the building. I remember our own fingerprints and where we leave them, as well as the fingerprints of others.
I especially remember the day sitting in the chapel when I had just found out that my fingerprints for my TSA pre-check did not go through strongly enough. That meant the FBI would investigate me before I got my pre-check, delaying receiving my traveler number! You carry this identification to go through a special security lane at airports. It allows you to avoid taking off your shoes or coat or putting your laptop out separately. I walk with a cane or walker and have special long lace-up shoes that are difficult to take off and on, so getting my traveler number is significant for me.
I have a new appreciation for the builders of this chapel, who must have been so much stronger and would have been tightly holding onto the wood to leave their prints in this sacred space.
I remember other services in this chapel I wanted never to end. I have memories from a preaching conference, dancing around the altar with Barbara Brown Taylor as I offered the bread, and she followed with the wine. I see Bishop Tutu dancing on the green after an amazing closing Eucharist at a retreat led by Trinity Wall Street. Priceless. I remember two Lenten retreats where we were snowed in. Breathtaking.
I played my harp at one retreat that Phyllis Tickle led in this chapel because the scheduled musicians could not get there, and I played at the closing of our spiritual direction class at the Hayden Institute. A privilege.
Thin places like Kanuga can offer us an entire album of memories to remember, times when God’s presence and love were immanently present—or, as Gordon Cosby would tell us, times when we lived in the real world.
Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/
