Like so many periods of discernment in my life, our recent trip to Malaysia didn’t go anything as expected. Ugh! A simple mammogram became a scary surgery at Penang Adventist Hospital, which delayed our return to Albania by three weeks. Talk about a wake-up call! Recovery and healing meant letting go of unplanned adventures on the back of a motorbike. Instead, I spent lots of time resting and gazing out into the lush hills of Penang. And, as happens during the slower moments of life, the sacred seeped into me in ways I’d forgotten can happen in Southeast Asia.
In Malaysia, the sacred nestles right up against the profane at least five times a day when the Muslim call to pray is heard. Out in the world each day while folks drive to work, sling sizzling noodles and vegetables in giant woks, perform unexpected surgeries, you name it; a muezzin prayerfully sings a song to Allah and Allah’s people for all to hear. In public spaces, the Muslim name of God echoes through the Penang hills, the Buddhist and Hindu temples, and Christian sanctuaries. The sacred also resides in the small Buddhist ancestor temples that dot Penang’s neighborhoods where family members can visit to remember and pray with their lost loved ones. The sacred resides out in the open for all to experience, all of the time. So, how could we experience life differently if we thought of sacred space and places as all around us and allowed it to rub elbows with all the daily messiness we create and encounter? Is this way of understanding sacred places possible for us in the West? I think yes!
In J. Donald Hughes and Jim Swan’s article, “How Much of the Earth is Sacred,” the authors’ note the West’s way of acknowledging or consecrating sacred space as found in Christian sanctuaries is by marking it off—drawing a line around the space we consider sacred to separate it from the cacophony of everyday life. In fact, “the Latin word templum, the root of the word “temple,” means ‘a part cut off’ or a ‘space marked out.’” But what if instead of drawing a line around the sacred to separate it, we built altars out in the wild to continuously acknowledge it? What if like the little libraries we erect in neighborhoods, we erected little altars where each of us shared an object we hold dear? What if we had little altars in our homes where we could pause and reflect on all we hold sacred? I’m guessing some of you may already have these little altars on your kitchen window sills or in a special corner of your home.
For 13 years now, Lindsay and I have traveled to the places where religions come together to form a vibrant kaleidoscope of spiritualities. Throughout our journeys we sought out unique objects to remind us of the sacredness that connects all of us in our shared humanity. After our most recent experiences in Malaysia, we decided it was time to move past just curating these special objects. It is time to offer these unique elements to others; for those of you who may also be interested in creating your own altars in the world.
Altars in the World, our new beloved online shop, is open for the first time! From now until February 5, we have a special selection of globally made, ethically curated, and sustainably sourced home altar elements available for purchase. If you are interested in learning more about Altars in the World, please visit: www.altarsintheworld.com
In the months ahead, we will be sharing more stories about the little altars we construct in our lives to remain connected to all that is sacred. We will also share ways we personally engage with the elements we offer through our shop as part of our own spiritual practices. Our pop-up shops will happen a couple of times a year with a limited selection of curated items with global stories to be shared. We hope you will join us in building your own altar in the world!
Growing globally,
Mary
Rev. Mary Andreolli, MFA, M.Div
Co-founder, Tumbuh Global