Monthly Archives: June 2009

Labyrinth Dreams

I have never thought of myself as a “labyrinth person.” I’ve just walked a handful: a canvas one laid out on the parish hall floor at Grace Memorial church in Portland, a rough river-rock arrangement on the bank of the Breitenbush River north of Detroit Lake, the wonderful wooded labyrinth at Church of the Resurrection in Eugene, and a labyrinth mown into a field on a farm in the hilmenucha stoneworkls west of Belfast, Maine.  Recently I visited a labyrinth a Menucha in the Columbia River Gorge, nestled into an old rose garden, hidden by trees and made from local rock.

Everyone who is a labyrinth person probably remembers their “first time,” maybe not the first time they walked a labyrinth but the first time they began to get what all the fuss is about. For me it was when I first visited the labyrinth in Ashland. Built on a busy street corner, it is a gift from  Trinity Episcopal Church to the beautiful  town of Ashland, the spiritual-but-not-religious heart of Southern Oregon. The labyrinth is an inviting sign of abundance and life for all who pass by. It is surrounded by plants and lovely places to sit. A water feature draws walkers in and through. A sacred burial ground  flanks one arc of the labyrinthAshland being walked.

I have a dream of a labyrinth at St. David’s, where Harrison Street meets 28th Place, providing a similar holy invitation as one pathway into the sacred.



Writing a new story

A short history and a familiar story: In the 1950s, the movers and shakers towerat St. David’s Episcopal Church decided to move their church from the busier-all-the-time intersection of 12th and Belmont to a piece of land called Harrison Hill. A new trolley line ran into the growing family neighborhood of Colonial Heights….a no-brainer for a typical booming post-war church. 

Fast-forward to the 1970, 80, and 90s:  As the spirituality of the neighborhood changed along with the rest of the world, the church retained its traditional approach to  life, the universe, and everything, including itself. St. David’s ceased to be the beacon on the hill which its builders envisioned, but stood faithfully on the top of Harrison Hill, withstanding over two or three decades the slow erosion of what it means to be church.

Jump ahead to summer and fall, 2009: through the help of the Holy Spirit and a whole bunch of Her good friends, St. David’s is figuring out how to be a new kind of church. We don’t know exactly what this looks like, but we hope you’ll help us tell the new story.  The best way to connect is the way we Episcopalians always connect: come worship with us.

Holy Eucharist inthe tradition of the Book of Common Prayer.
Sunday morning at 9:30.

Meditative night prayer: Candles, silence, prayer, song.
Friday evening at 9:30, beginning in August.

A new kind of worship: What do you long for?
Sunday evening at 5:00, beginning in September.

Daily evening prayer: Rest. Pray. Breathe. Repeat.
Weekdays at 5:30, beginning in October.

Do you have a story to tell about St. David’s on Harrison Hill? Let’s hear it. And come be part of the new story.