Some
people do a spiritual practice called walking
the labyrinth. My version of this spiritual practice is folding
the labyrinth.
A
facilitator’s role in spiritual formation programs at Columbia Theological
Seminary is not as a presenter but as a maker of everything from coffee to
morning and evening prayers—as well as unfolding and folding the fabric
labyrinth.
The
spiritual formation program is my “local church,” where I encounter fellow
believers in search of spiritual understanding and practices, all those things
I have wanted to share with congregations and participants in retreats and
workshops.
I
am not one who “gets” walking the labyrinth, however. But at the end of a
recent class I realized I really “get” folding it.
I
know that spirituality is to be experienced in community, but when I have tried
to fold the labyrinth with another, I find conflict and distraction. “No, I
think it should go this way.” “Shouldn’t we read the directions again?”
I
prefer to follow the folds in the fabric. I read the directions long ago, but I
find the easiest and surest way to fold the labyrinth is by letting its creases
guide me.
Virtually
everything else I do as a facilitator is done with others, from reading
assigned texts in preparation, working with a presenter’s theme and imagining
attendees’ responses to and participation in the morning and evening prayers,
ensuring the availability of coffee, tea, water, meals, and snacks as the class
proceeds, enjoying presentations and conversations with participants.
But
folding the labyrinth I prefer to do alone. After all, walking the labyrinth is
also done in solitude. While attendees are meeting in their small groups for
the last time, I fold and reflect in silence. Though the outcome is always the
same, I take satisfaction when the wrinkles are smoothed out and the labyrinth
is folded into a shape compact enough to fit in its box.
Copyright © 2015 by Chris R. Glaser.
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