The Pilgrimage of the Labyrinth

I have been meditating and reflecting on Psalm 62 this week, trying to be still and listen to God speaking into my life. Verses five through seven have dominated my attention. “For alone my soul waits in silence, for my hope is from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken. On God, rests my deliverance and my honor; my mighty rock, my refuge is God.” The psalm has three important spiritual markers that have most of my focus at the moment – the soul, the silence, and the rock.

Regarding the soul, I am continuing to explore the fullness of my soul as well as delve into the openness of the soul of God. My interest is where my soul and the soul of God intersect. My latest studies are leading me to conclude that my soul is a part of the cosmic soul of God. The psalm is teaching my soul to wait for God – for God completes me. And in my growing understanding, our souls complete the soul of God. Where do I wait for God? In the silence I wait for God. Where is complete silence? In the stone I find the silent presence of God.

This week I went on a brief retreat at the Redemptorist Renewal Center at Picture Rocks in the Sonoran Desert of Tucson, Arizona. There is a labyrinth on the property, made by volunteers with hundreds of hand-sized stones gathered from the nearby wash. The stones had been here for millions of years before they were called into place as a labyrinth. They will be there millions of years after this retreat center has long been forgotten. The stones are in the memory of God, just as each of us is in the memory of God.

This labyrinth is modeled after the one on the floor of the Cathedral of Notre Dame de Chartes built between 1193 and 1250 A.D. Some labyrinths have discovered that are over 3,000 years old. The labyrinth in Glendalough, Ireland is the shape of a womb and was built in the fifth century. The labyrinth of Chartes is a large circle, thirty feet in diameter. Around the outside circle are 128 half-moons representing the lunar cycle. The labyrinth is divided into quarters, the seasons of life. As you enter the labyrinth, you walk a serpentine path towards the center, the womb. It’s not a maze, you cannot get lost. The labyrinth represents the pilgrimage of life.

On the most pleasant of desert February afternoons I began to pray the labyrinth. I asked God to speak, I promised to listen. My walking further ensconced the depth of prayer and path. A few turns into my prayers I began to recognize the stones of the labyrinth path to be representative of the people I encounter in my life as spiritual director, pastor, and priest. Each person is the creation of God and placed along this path for a specific reason and purpose, at a specific place and time.

As I walk and pray, I begin to pay close attention to each stone, some grey, some reddish, some green, some blue, some white, some flat, some rounder than others, some random shaped, some have on them what appears to be a design, some are some smooth, some are jagged; the stones as varied as the individuals I see daily.

I walk the labyrinth carefully, acknowledging each stone, recognizing the vision of the face of each person I see. Offering a pray for each stone and each person. But I am careful not to disturb the stone. At some points on the labyrinth, especially at the turns, a walker making a corner too sharp has disturbed a stone. I stop, speak to the stone and ask it if it wants to be returned to place on the path. This particular stone acknowledged my presence and affirmed its desire to be in it original position. Gently, not lifting the stone, but carefully, I nudged it back into its intended place. This is my job as the spiritual director leader of this community.

As I left the labyrinth, I turned to face the path of stones, made the Trinitarian sign of the Cross, bowed, and offered the salutation, Namaste, the God in me recognizes the God in you.

A few yards away there was a sign, admonishing people to stay off the small hill of rocks that overlooked the labyrinth. A smaller sign warned people to deface any of the petroglyphs would result in prosecution. I walked a few yards around the path at the base of the hill and saw the petroglyphs, about twenty feet above my head. The carvings were most likely the work of the Hohoham people about 1100 A.D.

A few drawing depicted animals and birds. One petroglyph depicted the hierophant, priest, or shaman (known by the staff) was kneeling holding the head of an animal, possibly the shaman’s spirit animal. The main etching was on the largest flat surface in the center of the face of the hill facing the western sun. It was the drawing of a spiral. Similar to the spiral etching I have encountered at the Newgrange, the ancient Irish burial mound, over 3,000 years old.

Encircling the spiral were the drawings of people holding hands. Speculation is that the people, following the lead of their shaman, are dancing around the hill and offering their prayers. Most of the petroglyphs are dark and fresh, as if they were drawn yesterday. However, the spiral is worn, as if the people were dancing up the hill to rub their hands across the great spiral.

The spiral is positioned perfectly under another large stone so that, facing the Western Sun, on the solstice – equinox a sun sword moves is pointed exactly at the center of the spiral. As the sun moves across the spiral, the sun sword moves like a clock hand across the bottom of the spiral.

It was obvious to me that my labyrinth prayer and the prayer of the Hohokam a thousand years ago are connected. All of us God’s creation praying in the mystery of the circle of life and all praying across the same stones, created eons before our existence. The eternal connection was deeply felt in the silence of soul. I bowed once again, the God in me recognizes the God in the Hohokam people and their holy site.

In order for my soul to wait in the silence of the stones for God I must practice. I must have a practice that allows me to connect with my soul. To be silent, I must have a regular practice where silence is the intention. And to hear the silence of the stones speak the God I must have a practice that moves me into the presence of God’s creation, the stones.

I am not suggesting you adopt my spiritual practices. I am, though, encouraging to have spiritual practices that bring into the presence of the scripture, prayer, nature, and God. For without a spiritual practice you will be missing a multitude of experiences with the divine. Amen.