What is the Sacred?

I recently watched a documentary about Jane Goodall. What an incredible life and human being who will be greatly missed on this planet. At the beginning of the documentary she talks about her experience of the sacred in the forest in Gombe. This is what she said ““Being out in the forest, I had this great sense of a spiritual awareness of some spiritual power, and it was so strong out in the forest, you cannot help but understand how everything's interconnected. I often used to think sitting out there on my own that, you know, maybe there's a spark of that great spiritual power in each one of us.”

But what actually makes something spiritual? And how do we define the sacred?

Is it sacred because it has been named so by tradition? Or is it because, in its presence, something deep within us awakens? Is it a place? Is it out there, or in here?

For some, the sacred is tied directly to God, the universe, Gaia, creator or an external entity that comes with a relationship with a divine presence connecting them to the infinite. For others, the sacred is not bound to deity or doctrine, but arises in the sheer mystery of existence itself. A blade of foxtail catching the morning dew can be as awe-inspiring as any cathedral, the spark of spiritual power that you feel on a forest trail, it could be the feel of another person’s hand in yours when words fall away, it could be the energy of place that stops you in your tracks or it could be the silence and timeless flow that happens when you are holding brush and paint to paper.  The sacred wears many faces.

The poet Rainer Maria Rilke wrote “The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things.”
This defeat, this awe, this humbling before something greater than ourselves—that, too, is sacred.

To call something sacred is to declare: This matters.
This is worthy of reverence, of stillness, of our full presence and attention.

In that sense then, the sacred invites us to wake up—to move from numbness to attentiveness. It reorients us to what is essential. It is less about belief, and more about attunement. It asks us:
What are you paying attention to in this moment?
Where is your reverence going?

And perhaps even more radically: What if the sacred isn't just something we find, but something we practice? What if sacredness is not located in objects or places inherently, but arises in how we relate to them? The sacred, then, becomes less about what we encounter and more about how we encounter.

Across the world’s spiritual traditions—from the Upanishads to the mystics of Sufism, from Indigenous ceremonies to contemplative silence—we find this shared thread:
The sacred connects. It binds us—to the earth, to each other, and to the mystery of being alive on this earth.

And so, whether you pray, meditate, sing, serve, or simply breathe deeply into the moment—you are engaging with the sacred. And there is no wrong door into that mystery.

Let us remember then, that in this space, and in life, we need not agree on language or symbols. But we can honor the sacred in one another by showing up with presence, humility, attention and listening hearts.

Today we gather around a shared question: What is the sacred?

It sounds simple. Just four words. But like many spiritual questions, it invites us not toward an answer, but toward deeper questions.

Is it possible that by slowing down, listening deeply, and being fully present—we create the conditions for the sacred to emerge?

And so perhaps then we need to also consider the question what does it mean to live in relationship with the sacred?

It might begin with reverence.
Reverence for life itself—for each other, for the earth, for the mystery of our being here at all.

It might continue with responsibility.
Because when we recognize something as sacred, we treat it differently. We tend it. We protect it. We listen to it.
This could mean protecting the land. Listening to those who are suffering. Creating spaces of welcome and healing.

In this way, being in relationship with the sacred is not just a private experience, but a shared calling.

We become keepers of the sacred, our own and each others fully in community —not by possessing it, or declaring a definitive truth but by being present to the sacred however it shows up for us