Into the Labyrinth

Two different labyrinths were at the Cathedral this week. The first, which was at the church this past Sunday, had been borrowed from St. Dunstan's, and was as large as our parish hall. The second had been borrowed from a Methodist church in Norman, and was about a fourth the size as the first. The second was at the church last night.

I didn't walk the larger labyrinth on Sunday; just didn't feel like I could fit it in, what with my journey to Tulsa (see Jonah 365). Once I saw the smaller labyrinth last night, I knew I wanted to make a special effort to walk it.

During Lent, the Cathedral has regular Wednesday programs: Evening Prayer, followed by a light meal, a brief (~15 minute) presentation, then break-out "learning opportunities" or small groups. The presentation last night was on labyrinths. Christina, who had made the arrangements for the loans, showed images of labyrinths dating back prior to the Common Era. Something I didn't know until last night – even southwestern Native Americans had labyrinths.

Most of Christina's presentation focused on the labyrinth at Chartres, which is one of the best known. One tidbit I had not previously known was that the equally famous Rose Window was coordinated with the labyrinth in such a way that light from the window would shine on the center of the labyrinth (which is also a type of rose).

Both labyrinths which had visited the Cathedral were patterned on the Chartres labyrinth; I believe the first one had as many courses, or circuits, as Chartres (12). The second had seven courses. A course, incidentally, is the number of circles from the center (counting the exterior).

I went straight from dinner to the location of the labyrinth. I was the third or fourth person to arrive. I chose to wait until those people had gotten a ways into the labyrinth before I entered. As it turns out, I was the last adult to enter, and the last one to exit.

I stood with Christina for a few minutes watching a group of four or five walk the labyrith. It looked like a Renaissance dance, or a Mideval clock. There was something calming and meditative about just watching people walk the courses.

Christina had brought an Anonymous 4 CD which played as people walked the labyrinth. This heightened the prayerful atmosphere.

In time, I too entered the labyrinth. Within moments, I noticed something new: within a few feet of the entrance, one is immediately brought to the center. In other words, the path from the entrance goes directly towards the center. It would have taken a single stride for me to go straight from the path into the center – I would have stepped over only one wall.

This seemed to me a metaphor for what St. Paul calls "baby Christians". These are people new to the faith, full of the enthusiasm of newly discovered love and freedom. It's common, during this time, to think one has "arrived".

Yet, if one maturely continues walking the path, and does not get stuck in that first romantic blush, one quickly discovers s/he is far from the center. In time, one will come close to the center again, only to wander far from it. It is a sort of pond-ripple, which reflects not only our faith journey, but our life journey.

As if to prevent me from getting all high and holy, there were still plenty of worldly distractions. One could hear the children's choir, which was downstairs, drumming. The soda machine was just around the corner from the labyrinth, and I could hear money and cans dropping.

Of particular interest were the two pre-teen boys who were as drawn to the labyrinth as bees to a rose. They saw the paths as a course to be run, like a race. Yet, though they sped through the labyrinth with the energy of youth and typical male enthusiasm, they made a point to bow to me each time we passed on the path. One boy stopped to quickly say the Lord's Prayer each time he reached the center.

It seemed to me that those boys were going slow, in relation to their normal pace. It's all relative, y'know?

I completed the labyrinth shortly before the children's choir was dismissed. Once they were, the whole group flocked to the labyrinth and transversed it in their own unique ways. Two children sat at the center, with first finger touching thumb - a classic meditative pose.

Mother Susan reflected how her three year old granddaughter danced the labyrinth, the last time it had been at our Cathedral.

What a marvelous image!

May I have the grace to dance through life. May I have the grace to walk my life-path with the same equanimity and peace I found in the labyrinth last night.

May the Lord of Life, the Prince of Peace, hear my prayer. May it be granted to all pilgrims.