Twenty-Third Monday after Pentecost

All Souls' Day (Color: Black)

 The blog is back up. Thanks to Jerry for her help with it. Thanks to all of you who sent messages of condolence to us on the loss of our dog Pretzel.

 

Protestants don't normally observe All Souls' Day. For Catholics and Orthodox, as well as many Anglicans, Saints are not everyone who is a Christian, but special Christians who have been designated with the "Saint" title because of achievements in behalf of the faith. They celebrate these Saints on All Saints' Days. The rest of the dead they remember on All Souls' Day. Since Protestants (for the most part) hold that all Christians are saints, they have no need for a separate All Souls' Day.

 

 Monday is Faith Journey Narrative Day. If you are a regular Monday reader, you know that I'm now in the six years I was pastor at First UMC, N. Wilkesboro (January, 2005-December, 2010). One of the many wonderful things about First United Methodist, North Wilkesboro is that I had my own labyrinth. OK, not really--the church had its own labyrinth. It's down in the basement part in a very large room called the Youth Arena, the meeting place for the youth group. It was painted on the floor by a professional labyrinth painter based in Maryland, who travels the East Coast painting labyrinths. The room is locked during times when its not being used by the youth group. I had the key. 

 

I wrote about labyrinths in a previous blog, so forgive me if some of this is repetitive. Labyrinths are in a way the opposite of mazes. Mazes are designed to get you lost. Labyrinths are designed to get you found. The metaphor is intended. There is only one path on a labyrinth. It winds around and goes back on itself and twists and turns, but it always, unfailingly leads to the center. From the center you can reverse the path and it always leads to the entrance. 

Labyrinth walking is a spiritual discipline. It is deeply meaningful to many people and not at all to others. You walk it slowly. You can talk to God, or let your mind rest, or think about anything you want. You van concentrate on the labyrinth itself, or you don't have to think about it all. There are no decision, no "two roads diverged in a yellow wood," no wrong turns. It always leads to the center, whether its a centering in God, or in yourself, or simply in the geographic location of the labyrinth. 

Most labyrinths are outdoors. The classic labyrinth, and perhaps the original, is the one at the Cathedral of Chartres in France from the the thirteenth century.

The labyrinth at First, N. Wilkesboro, has the advantage of being usable all the time, since it's indoors. Another advantage it had was an overhead light with a rheostat that could shine on the center.

 

Very often my deepest spiritual experiences are quite unplanned. It was an ordinary Sunday evening UMY meeting in the Youth Arena. As I recall, perhaps correctly, one of the youth asked about the labyrinth. I explained, and then said, "Let's do it." We cut the lights off, except for the overhead light shining on the center. I led the procession of about 15 kids as we slowly walked the labyrinth. One of the youth worked the rheostat gradually brightening the light as we went in our curving winding labyrinth slowly toward it. When we were at the center, I lifted my hand toward the light and was going to start the UMY benediction. Others started lifting a hand toward the light. All did. Someone started singing, I think the song was Jacob's Ladder. Jacob's Ladder was a theme in the art on the walls in the Youth Arena, including an actual ladder hanging on one wall. The fourteen or fifteen hands were all touching each other, reaching toward the light. Then someone moved their hand slightly and the light reflection changed slightly. In a moment we were all moving our hands in a graceful, winding, labyrinthine, motion, all the hands touching at least one other hand. The light then played its reflections, moving in astonishing ways across the hands. A couple of wrist-watches became prisms, scattering bits of light into color. God was in the light. God's presence was palpable. God was light. The light shone all over and through our moving hands touched together. It was as if the light was binding our hands and our lives together in Christ. It was an incredibly rare moment. We finished the song, We said the benediction. We left in silence. 

We tried to repeat the experience in a couple of subsequent Sundays, but it wasn't the same. The light did not seem to reflect on our hands in the same way. 

But I still will walk a labyrinth anytime I get a chance. 

Faithfully,

Christian