labyrinths

Walking in the maze of labyrinth wars? This USA Today Network story sits out that debate

Here is what I have learned about prayer labyrinths, during my decades on the religion beat.

Progressive Episcopalians love them, big time.

Evangelical Episcopalians hate them or, at the very least, worry about how they can be abused.

Progressive Catholics love them, big time.

Conservative Catholics hate them or, at the very least, worry about how they can be abused.

You may have noticed a pattern.

The arguments about labyrinths center on church history, theology, ancient myths and trends in modern “spirituality,” especially the many innovations that came to be labeled “New Age.” When writing about this topic, I have learned that it helps to focus on the doctrinal contents, and the origins, of the prayers that people are taught to recite while walking inside a labyrinth.

It’s hard to do a basic online search on this topic without hitting waves of information by those who embrace the use of labyrinths (examples here and then here) and those who reject them (examples here and then here).

This brings me to a long recent USA Today Network-Tennessee feature that ran with this headline: “Set in stone or brick, East Tennessee labyrinths are meditative walks for prayer.” This article, literally, could be used in a public-relations release about this particular labyrinth, since it contains ZERO information from critics. Here is the overture (this is long, but essential):

It's dusk on a September Tuesday as two dozen people step, silently and deliberately, around a twisting brick courtyard path at St. John's Episcopal Cathedral.

A few walk barefoot. Some carry candles or glow sticks. Most bow their heads in silent meditation or prayer as they follow the turns of St. John's brick and mortar labyrinth.

Candles and spotlights set among the garden surrounding the labyrinth cast shadows.


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Houston Chronicle's effusive description of new Hines Center lacks critical distance

Back in the mid-1980s, I spent more than 3 ½ years working for the Houston Chronicle, which was situated downtown on Texas Avenue. A mere two blocks away was Christ Church Cathedral, which became quite the hangout for the lunchtime crowd during my years at the Chron, because of a restaurant on its premises. The cathedral had its share of programs and events, but the real energy center for the local Episcopalians was St. John the Divine, a parish several miles west of downtown.

Much has changed in the Diocese of Texas since then, including a recent innovation I just read about in the Chronicle about the new Bishop John E. Hines Center for Spirituality and Prayer. Here’s how it’s described:

Christ Church Cathedral, a fixture in the heart of downtown Houston, sits just 6 sprawling Houston miles from Joel Osteen’s Lakewood Church, the largest megachurch in the world.


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