A Walk on the Spiritual Side

I haven’t written much about the Unitarian church we are attending in our new hometown, that bears the somewhat unwieldy name:   UnitarianUniversalist Church of Greater Lynn in Swampscott.  Certainly, the contrasts between the Arlington urban church of 1,000 members and a small town church of under 200 folks would come readily to your mind.  But, beyond the obvious (a single Sunday service, one minister, not three, twelve choir singers rather than sixty) are more subtle, emotional rather than quantitative differences that I have yet to sort out completely.  I hope to tell you more in a future posting.

However, I wanted to give you, dear readers, a brief description of today’s worship service that focused on labyrinth walking as spiritual practice.  About 15 years ago, the labyrinth took on a significant role in our lives at the Arlington church.  We were members of a team that helped construct  a large, painted canvass labyrinth, under the direction of Rev. Joan Gelbein and her husband Abe.  We tended the labyrinth as caretakers when it was placed periodically in the church social hall for use in spiritual practice.  Trudi was part of a group that funded the translation from German of a major work on labyrinths, and helped organize a regional labyrinth conference.  I even wrote a poem on walking the labyrinth at the spring equinox.   As years passed, we moved on to other things at the church, but found inspiration and comfort in walking the labyrinth on New Year’s Day.

The speakers at today’s service were co-founders of a local business that offers labyrinth walks, sells labyrinths, conducts workshops and leadership training and labyrinth design consultations.  (Cottage industries abound in endless variety up here!)  They brought several portable labyrinths with them, including a canvas one that was laid out in the sanctuary after the service.  We both felt some hesitation about walking it, perhaps fearful that the impact of the walk would not match what we had felt in Arlington over the years.  But for me, the experience was quite the opposite.

I found the labyrinth and the walk itself comfortable and familiar territory, forging a link between the two locales and two phases of our lives together.  I realized in walking the labyrinth today I was drawing from my past a personal experience that I have transported to this new place, like a packet of seeds to be planted in soil.   The continuity of experience was, I suppose, like hearing a familiar liturgy spoken.  And I was encouraged that this congregation of New Englanders would value and support something that had been also a deep part of our communal life in Virginia.  And, as well, this broadened for me a sense of shared trust and appreciation for the anthem music that Trudi and I sang today,  Palestrina’s Sicut Cervus, with the pocket choir of this new church.  You can click this link for a YouTube performance of that beautiful piece: Listen and enjoy