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Trespassing the labyrinth

Christian Century,  July 10, 2007  by John Backman

Trespassing the labyrinth

   They will not see me, living out of
   sight down the hill, the white-robed army of monks at prayer, the
   makers of incense and beds and meals with the smell of God about
   them.

   They might feel me step into their pilgrimage, balancing between
   the jagged and the smooth stones, paying homage to the rock borders
   that turn me closer in, farther out, maddeningly away from the
   center.

   This is no way to live a life. How many times have they made these
   very turns in their cloister, no labyrinth to guide them but only
   the vague inner nudge?

   It is the place where tortuous and torturous merge. I take half an
   hour; they use half their lives. And for what? A pile of rocks in
   the center, a single life well lived?

   The question, maybe, gives us pause. It does not stop that
   inexorable pull, like undertow sent to immolate a swimmer beneath
   the waves,

   or the ineffable peace that spreads with every step.

COPYRIGHT 2007 The Christian Century Foundation
COPYRIGHT 2008 Gale, Cengage Learning