Drawing the Line: Sacred, Secular, and the Space Between

Reading Ezekiel 43 to 45, I was struck by how clearly defined the boundaries are between sacred and secular space. There are gates only priests can use, areas reserved exclusively for offerings, and land set aside for temple use versus land for rulers and people. Everything has its place. Everything has its purpose.

Blurred Lines and Modern Maps

This level of separation feels foreign to me. In my world, those boundaries are often blurred. Governments are expected to remain neutral on religion. Religious practices, when public, are often viewed with skepticism. And in day-to-day life, there isn’t usually a clear line where the sacred ends and the secular begins. If anything, the two are constantly overlapping.

So I find myself wondering: why was separation so important in Ezekiel’s vision?

Holy Blueprints and Social Boundaries

Part of the answer might lie in the context. These chapters describe a restored temple in a time after destruction and exile. Maybe rebuilding order required rebuilding boundaries. Maybe sacredness, for the people Ezekiel was writing for, had to be guarded carefully, physically marked out in stone and space. Holiness was not an abstract feeling but a designated zone, one you could point to on a map.

And then there’s the role of leaders. Ezekiel 45:9 (NLT) says, "Enough, you princes of Israel! Stop your violence and oppression and do what is just and right. Quit robbing and cheating my people out of their land." It seems that even the rulers had to be reminded they weren’t above the rules. Their space was distinct from the temple, and their authority had limits. There’s a tension here: rulers had power, but the sacred domain wasn’t theirs to control.

In a way, these chapters lay out an architectural form of accountability. By separating spaces, maybe the system tried to protect what was considered most important from being misused.

So… What’s Sacred Now?

That raises questions for today. What does it mean to keep something "sacred" now? Is it about buildings and rituals, or about behavior and ethics? Can something be sacred if it’s shared openly, or does it need separation to retain its meaning? And what happens when the lines blur—when faith enters politics, or when a public space is used for private worship?

The attention to boundaries might not be about exclusion so much as intention. A reminder that where we put things—physically, symbolically, politically—says something about what we value. Even from a secular perspective, that’s something to think about. What do we set apart? What do we protect? And what do our boundaries, or lack of them, reveal about us?