Navigating through a sea of humanity—each person clearly as motivated to reach their destination as we were—we all came to a standstill… sort of. And as wave after wave of more travelers joined, the space grew tighter and tighter.
Packed like the proverbial sardines in a can, I anticipated that those around me might grow less than pleasant. Yet to my surprise, people were doing their best to be respectful neighbors. Shifting this way and that, paying particular attention to the elderly and parents with small children, the crowd somehow figured out how to share space… even making room for moments of collective levity and laughter.
“I’m looking forward to us all having a great week here at camp. One of the ways that happens is if we respect everyone else’s space—the space around their bodies, the space they come from (family, culture, and community), and their space in the living areas that belong to them.”
Those words from my camp counselor when I was much younger not only stuck with me, but evolved into a cornerstone of how I now open countless gatherings of ‘campers’—young and old alike.
Creating space isn’t about erecting walls, but about inviting individuals to exercise their agency and become the architects of their own boundaries. It is an affirmation of what theologian John O’Donohue suggests when he reminds us, “Every human being is a sanctuary.” And at the heart of community is what theologian Henri Nouwen teaches about true welcome: “Hospitality is making space for the other.”
Here’s the thing—in my experience, when people genuinely respect one another’s space, it transforms the space between them. People feel more comfortable, more confident, and more willing to lean into community.
Respecting the space of others is not withdrawal—it is grace in motion. It is the quiet work of love that refuses to push, claim, or collapse the places where another person stands. When we respect space, we reflect God’s own posture toward us: close enough to be present, spacious enough to let us breathe, grow, and become fully who we were created to be.
What makes a fire burn
is space between the logs,
a breathing space.
Too much of a good thing,
too many logs
packed in too tight
can douse the flames
almost as surely
as a pail of water would.
So building fires
requires attention
to the spaces in between,
as much as to the wood.
When we are able to build
open spaces
in the same way
we have learned
to pile on the logs,
then we can come to see how
it is fuel, and absence of the fuel
together, that make fire possible.
We only need to lay a log
lightly from time to time.
A fire
grows
simply because the space is there,
with openings in which the flame
that knows just how it wants to burn
can find its way. – Judy Brown
BP