Walking Prayer and Community

Walking a labyrinth always seemed to be a solitary and internally focused time. When encountering others on the path, one or the other of us would step aside with a simple nod, quickly returning to internal focus. We would be polite to each other, but distant, not wanting to intrude into other person’s prayer time.

That changed one evening in early July walking the gravel and stone labyrinth at the Mercy Center in Burlingame, CA. The participants in the Internship in the Art of Spiritual Direction met in silence at the outdoor labyrinth. One at a time we entered the labyrinth, walking as individuals into the center, pausing for varying times, then back out. As people finished, they sat in the grass on the side, watching until the last person was done.

Starting the walk, I was hoping for the sense of centering and quiet. As I walked, I became very aware of who was around me, their names and what I knew about them. I noted in my journal “what an entirely different feeling it was for me – I was excited to be joining in with all of the others in walking . . . . it is big enough that most of the group fit into it easily. Some greeted me as they went by, others did not.” (July 5, 2006)

I felt connected with each one. There was new kind energy in sharing prayer together, an experience of God’s presence in community prayer rather than personal prayer. In a synergy of spirit and respect for everyone, the feelings stayed with me through the rest of the training program.

During the middle ages, the faithful would walk together in a line or dance in labyrinths. We know this from church documents which record church officials denouncing the activity and forbidding it. I have wanted to experience it, so at the end of the workshop at Mercy Center, I invited the others to join me in walking the labyrinth in a line.

Several gathered at the appointed time at dusk and we walked into the center with one hand on the shoulder of the person in front. We used a simple pattern of three steps forward then one step back, then three more steps forward and one back, over and over. Late arrivals joined the line on the way, until we were circled around the center.

Walking out, we held hands and walked naturally as the darkness was settling around us. “It was quite fun and playful coming out, and fun to see the line of more than a dozen of us stretched out around one side of the labyrinth. The most fun was when we were three to four layers deep near the center.” (July 23, 2006) One person began singing “We are walking in the light of God,” and soon we were all singing it loudly.

Those experiences changed me, and led me to become more attentive to what was going on while I was walking the labyrinth.

A few months ago at the National Cathedral, a several men were all walking one of the labyrinths at the same time. That is unusual, since there are many more women who walk than men, so I became very alert. As I approached the center, I was the second man to enter it. Then three more men entered. I wrote later:

For several minutes there were five of us men in the center – just amazing! I have never seen that many men walking before, much less to all be in the center at the same time. I was aware of all of us, praying that all could share with the others, and that God touch all of the others the way I was being energized by it. (October 30, 2007)

That small group of men, sitting together in prayer, touched me with an unexpected sense of community, even though there was no conversation and we did not even know each others names.

Now, whenever I begin each new walk through a labyrinth, I wonder if I will again sense the community of God.

Walking Prayer

Many of us were taught as children to pray by pressing our flattened hands together, holding them up in front of our chest, bending our heads down, and closing our eyes. We were supposed to stay in place, whether we were sitting or standing, and not move. Finally, no peeking was allowed.

If you ask adults to get ready to pray, they usually adopt a similar pose. They move into a similar body position with eyes closed or downcast, hands held in a particular way, and stop all movement in their limbs. It is an introspective position in which distractions are reduced and busy-ness is stopped, though as squirming children testify, not always successfully.

But as my radical Second Grade Sunday School told me, that is not the only way to pray. She told the class many years ago that prayer can be done with our eyes open, walking down the sidewalk and our hands at our sides. It so startled me at the time that I still remember that class even if I have forgotten her name. I thank her for that gift of a broader understanding of prayer.

So why did it take decades for me to adopt walking a labyrinth as a form of prayer?

In college, I encountered walking meditation based upon Eastern religious practices, which were in vogue. The leader showed us how to slowly extend one foot, putting down the heel, shifting the body weight onto the ball of that foot, lifting up the other foot to extend it, and repeating the motion very slowly. We moved so slowly I was able to feel a anxious sense of imbalance at I lifted up the foot in the back to move it forward.

Surprisingly, that deliberate movement of my body led to stillness in my mind. It was easier to let go of the distractions in my thoughts and feelings than sitting meditation. It remained a singular experience, although never forgotten.

It was a Washington Post article in April 2003 that led me to walking prayer in a labyrinth at the National Cathedral. It was very crowded that evening. I noted in my journal, “There were so many people around – side stepping, passing by, stopping. Yet I felt alone on the path, by myself at my own pace, on my own singular journey, even in the middle of community.”

After my first walk that April 29th, wrote in my journal that I became achingly aware of strong emotions that had been pushed aside. “I was feeling sorrow come up from my center and tears come up, around my eyes, down my cheeks. . . .” Similar experiences have occurred during many other walks since that one.

Since then, I try to walk that canvas pathway in my stocking feet at the National Cathedral every month. Sometimes I am with a friend and other times alone. I like to arrive around 7:30, when it tends to be less crowded. After writing in my journal to clear out the distractions from the day, I often reread the starting lines of Psalm 62, “For God alone my soul in silence waits . . . He alone is my rock and my salvation.” Then I go to whichever of the two labyrinths seems less crowded.

As I walk in toward the center, I repeat those words of the Psalm whenever my mind wanders. When I reach the center, I sit down and try to relax into quietness. I sit there until I sense it is time to leave and start walking back out. Walking in the opposite direction is different, and often feels like I am leaving behind a place that is safe and comforting.

Each time has been different, each time a new experience. Sometimes there is a sense of movement, healing or new possibility. Sometimes there is only emptiness or distraction. Yet I know I will come back again to experience the walking prayer.

I often remember one experience of release and relief. In one section of the Chartres style labyrinth, the last two half-circle paths before starting the final steps into the center, I often remember a time of letting go of deep seated anger, and feeling myself soaring. I had stuck out my arms like airplane wings, and banked my wings into the curves, floating free of the pain and weight of that anger.

It is not something I do everyday, and is not my primary form of prayer. It doesn’t always “work” at leading me into a quiet contemplative place. It does continue to lead my claiming a deeper sense of God in my life.

What is Your Hermeneutic Perspective?

It is a shame that the name for the study of how we read and understand a text is so difficult: hermeneutics. I can imagine anyone’s first encounter with the word, trying to use phonetics to pronounce it, then deciding to watch TV instead. If you want a definition I think the one in Wikipedia is a good start.

Rather than trying to explain it in great detail, I suggest you take a short twenty question Hermeneutic Quiz, sponsored by Christianity Today and Leadership Journal. This quiz will let you experience the range of decisions that people make, rather than try to think it all through. As you take the test, you may wonder why the questions are worded the way they are and if there is something you are missing. Just go ahead, and answer with what seems to make sense to you

There is nothing neutral and accurately quantifiable about the quiz. The questions clearly reflect the bias of the person developing it, and reflect one view of the issues of interpretation. It is thought provoking and may open your eyes to what choices you make as you encounter the more difficult passages of the Bible.

Try it and let me know how you scored, and what you learned in the process.

Let me note that several members of my family have taken it, and the scores ranged from a conservative 49 to mine as the most progressive at 83. Several of the test takers noted that the categories of conservative or progressive for some of the questions seemed strange, and that they were surprised with their ranking.

More importantly, a family as diverse as mine on this scale of biblical hermeneutics still comes together as a family, laughing and crying together, knowing our common bond. We have had our clashes and struggles over the years, but we never called each other names or questioned each other’s Christianity. We are all active in the ministry of our various churches, and know that each one is living a life of faith true to that person’s understanding of the Bible. Someday I hope to be able to say that about my Church and the worldwide Anglican Communion.