Earth is so thick with divine possibility that it is a wonder we can walk anywhere without cracking our shins on altars.
—Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World
Barbara Brown Taylor writes of the humility necessary to experience reverence for the world around us:
According to the classical philosopher Paul Woodruff, reverence is the virtue that keeps people from trying to act like gods. “To forget that you are only human,” he says, “to think you can act like a god—this is the opposite of reverence.” [1] While most of us live in a culture that reveres money, reveres power, reveres education and religion, Woodruff argues that true reverence cannot be for anything that human beings can make or manage by ourselves.
By definition, he says, reverence is the recognition of something greater than the self—something that is beyond human creation or control, that transcends full human understanding. God certainly meets those criteria, but so do birth, death, sex, nature, truth, justice, and wisdom….
Reverence stands in awe of something—something that dwarfs the self, that allows human beings to sense the full extent of our limits—so that we can begin to see one another more reverently as well. An irreverent soul who is unable to feel awe in the presence of things higher than the self is also unable to feel respect in the presence of things it sees as lower than the self. [2]
Author Victoria Loorz describes how a slower pace allows us to experience reverence for the natural world and others:
Reverence is slow and intentional. It allows awe to fill your lungs and bring tears to your eyes, and it floods your bloodstream with extra oxygen and energy. Wandering with reverence means you’re looking at the world with softened eyes that no longer see others as objects of beauty or utility. Reverence allows you to behold the trees and waters and tiny ants as separate beings…. You acknowledge them as individuals who are as concerned about their own survival and enjoyment of life as you are about yours. They are as important to their relations as you are to yours. John O’Donohue, a Celtic poet, philosopher, and priest, wrote the book (in both senses of that phrase) on Anam Cara, or “soul friends.”… He says, “Reverence bestows dignity and it is only in the light of dignity that the beauty and mystery of a person will become visible.” [3] The same applies to seeing the dignity of a tree or a place or even yourself….
Even if you can’t initially conjure this deferential respect for beings who are not human, just intending the posture of reverence makes room for relationship. This, in turn, makes room for the presence of the holy. According to O’Donohue, “What you encounter, recognize or discover depends to a large degree on the quality of your approach…. When we approach with reverence great things decide to approach us.” [4]
References:
[1] Paul Woodruff, Reverence: Renewing a Forgotten Virtue, 2nd ed. (Oxford University Press, 2014), 1.
[2] Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith (HarperOne, 2009), 21.
[3] John O’Donohue, Beauty: The Invisible Embrace (Harper Perennial, 2005), 31.
[4] Victoria Loorz, Church of the Wild: How Nature Invites Us into the Sacred (Broadleaf Books, 2021), 76–77, 77–78; and O’Donohue, Beauty, 23, 24.
Image Credit and inspiration: Mieke Campbell, untitled (detail), 2021, photo, Unsplash. Click here to enlarge image. The child’s wide-eyed wonder mirrors a heart open to awe: seeing the sacred glimmer even in the most ordinary of moments.
Story from Our Community:
Over time, the universe, the earth, and nature have opened me up to see the many ways that I am judgmental, selfish, and angry. This acknowledgement has led to change, which is a never-ending journey. It fills something inside of me, knowing that change is possible. I feel it as I gaze at the night sky pouring into my solar plexus; it is indescribable. I don’t know anything about God. I only know how my experience of the universe has helped me to see myself and others more clearly and shown me a path to forgiveness and peace.
—Catherine B.
