“Oh, the Places You’ll Go…!”

First Congregational United Church of Christ

June 26, 2011

The Rev. Sharyl B. Peterson

 

Scripture Readings: 

Portions of Psalms 17, 23, 25, 119, 142, Isa. 2, Micah 6, Romans 6, 2 Cor. 5

 

“Congratulations!/  Today is your day.
You’re off to Great Places!/  You’re off and away!

You have brains in your head./  You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself any direction you choose.
You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the (one) who’ll decide where to go[1].”

            Some of you will recognize the beginning lines of Dr. Seuss’s wonderful book, Oh!  The Places You’ll Go!  It’s a classic book for people of all ages, which our church has sometimes given copies of to our high-school or college graduates.  And it’s the perfect summertime read, because summertime, for so many, is also travel-time. 

            The livin’ is easy … or at least easier than winter living.  Instead of shoveling heavy, wet snow in the freezing cold, you get to mow the lawn in the cool of the evening, stopping every now and then to quaff a nice glass of lemonade or iced tea.  Instead of having the kids or grandkids all confined to the house, cranky and bored and with nothing to do – but it’s too cold to send them outside, they’re out having the time of their lives bouncing on the trampoline, or swimming in the backyard pool you got just for them.  Instead of taking hours to prepare a substantial, sturdy supper for everyone to keep the winter chill away, you can throw together a nice salad, and some grainy crackers, and call it good!

            And summer is a time for moving on.  Sometimes literally, as people relocate from one part of the country to another.  Sometimes emotionally, as we travel to see far-flung family and friends.  Sometimes spiritually, as we go in search of adventure, or to find ways to nurture our tired selves, or to experience the kind of opening of our minds and hearts that going to new places can offer.  (I think it was Mark Twain who said something like, “travel is the surest cure for a closed mind.”)

Our ancestors in faith – while they lacked the wonder of 747s, or cool carry-on luggage, or rental car services – knew all about travel.  If you read that list of Scripture passages listed at the top of this written copy, you’ll hear all about their experiences.  And this handful of Scripture readings makes up only a small portion of the huge number of Biblical references to traveling … to walking … to journeys … to paths … and to a God who walks with us along those paths, offering us guidance, encouragement, and support. 

            If we know our Bibles, we know the physical details of many of those Biblical journeys … like Moses and Aaron and Miriam’s trip, as they led their people out of captivity in Egypt, spent years wandering in the wilderness, thirsty, hungry, and lost, finally arriving at a safe, God-given haven in the land of Canaan… or Ruth’s trip with Naomi from the land of Moab, where Ruth was born and raised, back to Naomi’s homeland, which she missed so deeply, even though Ruth would be an illegal alien there, and life would be hard for both of them as widows… or Mary and Joseph’s flight with a newborn son named Jesus from the little town of Bethlehem (or Nazareth) where he was born,  to a place of shelter in Egypt, where they hoped to be safe from Herod and his soldiers. 

            More importantly, as people of faith, we remember the theological significance of those journeys we have heard or read about in the Bible.  A journey toward freedom for the formerly-captive Israelites.  A journey toward a new life and a new homeland for Ruth.  A journey toward safety for their child for Mary and Joseph.  Journeys made by people trying hard to trust that God had a better sense of the “big picture” than they did … journeys made by people who were struggling to be obedient … journeys made by people who had deep hopes that God would bring them to a better place eventually. 

            And yet, in spite of – or perhaps because of – their attempts at trust, at obedience, at hope, every single one of these journeys was hard.  Every one of them was fraught with very real perils.  Because not a single one of those travelers knew, with utter certainty, where they were going, or that indeed they would get there safely. 

            It may be easy for us, who know “the rest of the story,” as Paul Harvey would put it, to underestimate the real challenge and difficulty of all those Biblical journeys.  Because we know that Moses and Aaron and Miriam did manage to get the Israelites safely to Canaan.  We know that Ruth and Naomi did make it back to Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, and that Ruth made a new home for Naomi, and found a husband there, and a new life, and became the great (times 27)-grandmother of Jesus of Nazareth.  And of course, we know that Mary and Joseph did make it to safety in Egypt, and eventually returned home to raise that child named Jesus, who is the reason that we’re all sitting here this morning.  But make no mistake – every journey was – and still is – fraught with dangers.

            We know that that’s true, whether the travel happened in ancient times or happens today.  Dr. Seuss’s words ring true to our experiences: 

“You will come to a place where the streets are not marked. Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked. A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin! Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in? How much can you lose? How much can you win?

And if you go in, should you turn left or right…or right-and-three-quarters?  Or, maybe, not quite?  Or go around back and sneak in from behind?  Simple it’s not, I’m afraid you will find, for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind…

And when you’re alone, there’s a very good chance you’ll meet things that scare you right out of your pants. There are some, down the road between hither and yon, that can scare you so much you won’t want to go on[2].”

            Most of us know exactly what he means.  Because whether we’re travelling to an exotic location like Turkey – or India – or Nepal, or just across this country somewhere – say, to Maine – or North Carolina – or California, or sometimes, to someplace even closer – like Mesa Verde – or to Blue Mesa – we know that we still tend to have worries and concerns about things like where we’re going to stay, and how we’ll get around, and what the food is going to be like wherever it is we’re going.  Journeys by their very nature involve the unknown … they involve stepping out of our comfort-zones into who knows what. 

            And if the only journeys we ever had to worry about – to be nervous about – were vacation-trips, we could all decide to just stay home where it’s safe and comfortable, and I wouldn’t be preaching this sermon this morning.  But the deep theological reality is that all of life is a journey.  It’s not just a cliché; it’s a deep truth.  We start at one place – bald, naked, and with very limited powers to understand the world around us, or how we fit into it – and we end up decades later (if we’re lucky) perhaps bald again, but with a vast store of experience, of challenges, of victories and defeats, of love, of knowledge and skills and wisdom of every kind. 

            Given that deep reality, maybe it’s not surprising that reflective people of all kinds – across many cultures, and many centuries – and not just theologians and philosophers, but mathematicians and scientists and artists and other spiritual people – have intentionally explored this notion of journey as it relates to our spiritual and faith lives.  And one of the tools that was developed somewhere along the way was the labyrinth. 

Visitors to our church, whether they’re here for Sunday worship, or to attend an A.A. meeting, or to drop off books for Friends of the Library, often ask me questions about our labyrinth out front.  What exactly is it?  Is it just a kind of lawn decoration?  Is it like a maze?  What’s it for?  Why do people walk in it? 

            You may have wondered some of these things, too, or have been asked these questions by some of your friends.  So this morning, I want to teach you a little more about labyrinths, and why we have one out in front of our church.

First of all, labyrinths are not some kind of new-age spiritual invention.  Labyrinths – engraved in metal, laid out in stones, crafted from living shrubberies, painstakingly carved into the floors of places of worship – have been used for millennia – across different periods in history, across different cultures, across different faith traditions – (from Native American to Hindu to Christian) to help people become more sensitive to, more aware of, more responsive to the presence of the Holy in the midst of life. 

            Many centuries before human beings had the capacity and resources to make actual physical pilgrimages to sacred sites, people constructed – and travelled upon – the paths of a local labyrinth.  People – all over the world, in every place, at every time – have walked labyrinths as a form of spiritual adventure … as a form of prayer … of reflection … of meditation … of healing … to gain clarity … to find inspiration … to ask questions … to solve problems … to tap into their own wisdom … and to connect with the holiness that we call “God”. 

            For those of you who have never walked a labyrinth, let me explain the basic process.  You start at the outside of the labyrinth, by the marked entrance-point, and stop for a few moments before entering, to quiet your mind, and center yourself.  Then you talk into the labyrinth, and simply follow the path that is clearly laid out, until you reach the center, where people often spend time resting, praying, or meditating. 

            In a labyrinth, completely unlike a maze, there are no trick choices – no dead-end paths – there is just one path in, and one path out, which is always the correct path.  For some first-time walkers, it may not feel that way, because in many labyrinths, and especially in a labyrinth like ours, which is one of the more complex designs for a labyrinth, the path circles back upon itself from time to time, and you may sometimes be surprised to find yourself headed in a direction that seems “out” or away from the center, instead of “in.”  However, if you keep walking, despite where it looks like you are going, the path will inevitably lead you to the center. 

            But the purpose of walking the labyrinth is not just to get some physical exercise … again, it is about a spiritual exercise.  Some people begin their labyrinth walk with a question they’re seeking an answer to … or a decision they’re trying to make … or simply to be in a place where they can let go of everything else going on in their heads and their lives, and let themselves get quiet inside.  There is no magic involved in the process – but people often find (and I remind you, have been finding for millennia) that simply following the physical path laid out by the stones helps them go more deeply into themselves, more deeply into a sense of connection with the Holy – and that often in that process, they find an insight or clarity that surprises them.  In his wonderful book about labyrinths (which our church library has) Gailand MacQueen suggests that ”we might say that the labyrinth is a symbol of God, who is both the center we seek, and the path that gets us there [3].”

            Now, the tricky bit for so many of us “sophisticated, contemporary” UCC folks is that labyrinths move us out of the ways of “doing spirituality” or “deepening our faith understandings” that we may have gotten comfortable with.  Many of us much prefer  getting the latest book by Dr. John Cobb, or Dr. Rebecca Chopp or Dorothy Soëlle, or whoever our favorite theologian is,  and reading about the latest theological reflections on this topic or that.  Or, maybe we take a somewhat more traditional route to theological reflection, and spend some time each week doing Bible study.  Or maybe we get an audio-tape, or turn on the television, or take a class, and listen to someone’s sermon or lecture on something “religious” that is of interest to us.  And let me be clear:  I am not knocking reading or Bible study or listening to sermons or lectures – I do a good bit of both, and they are very good things to do! 

            But both reading and Bible study and sermons and lectures offer only one kind of avenue to understanding and experiencing God, and our relationship with God.  The labyrinth, in contrast, moves us out of our heads, into our bodies, and ultimately, into the places where we connect as whole human beings – body, mind, and spirit – with that which is greater than ourselves.  As our feet move along the physical path, our spirits are freed up to move inward, and outward, along a deeper kind of spiritual path.  The labyrinth offers us a completely different way to experience … and to connect with … that which can’t always be described rationally and logically … that which we sometimes describe as “mystery” … or as “sacredness” … or as “God.” 

            So this summer, amid whatever other travels you may undertake, I encourage every single one of you to try walking our labyrinth – at least once.  Or, if you go somewhere else that has a labyrinth (and more and more retreat-centers do), try walking their labyrinth.   Come at a quiet time of the day or evening that is comfortable for you.  Don’t set yourself up with any expectations about what should happen or what will happen.  Just let whatever happens – or doesn’t – happen … and see what that experience tells you.  You may be astonished at what you learn – about yourself, about your faith journey, about God. 

            Dr. Seuss promises: 

“And will you succeed?

Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and ¾ percent guaranteed.) 

Kid, you’ll move mountains!
So…be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray or Mordecai Ale Van Allen O’Shea,

you’re off to Great Places!/  Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting./      So…get on your way![4]”

 

            And isn’t that kind of promise – a promise of astonishment – and wonder – the real reason that we take vacations?  That we take the risk of journeying to new places?  That we pack our bags occasionally, and head out into the unknown?  My hope for every one of us is that we’re willing to embrace the adventure … to open ourselves to the possibilities … and to keep walking … into wonder … into peace … into new revelations of who we are … of who God is … of what is possible … of what is … Amen.