JERUSALEM -- I am in Jerusalem today, part of a San Antonio peacemaking delegation. For the past week we have traveled to Gaza, Hebron, Ramallah, Nazareth and Bethlehem, meeting with Israelis and Palestinians, listening, witnessing, recording stories. I will tell you some of them when I return.

During the Middle Ages labyrinths were used as a metaphor for the pilgrimage to Jerusalem, a once-in-a-lifetime obligation for Christians of the time. Those unable to make the trip to the Holy Land could walk a labyrinth in one of seven designated pilgrimage cathedrals.

The only remaining pilgrimage labyrinth is in the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Chartres. I was in France about three years ago, by chance on one of the few days that year when the labyrinth, a 42-foot across stone mosaic, wasn't covered by chairs.

A medieval pilgrim would have traveled this chemin de Jerusalem, this road to Jerusalem, on her knees. I kicked off my shoes and walked.

Today, people still walk labyrinths, seeking balance, healing, peace, inspiration and a deeper sense of the divine. Exactly why I am in Jerusalem! There are lessons to be learned from the labyrinth.

Keep on walking. A labyrinth is not a maze. A maze is a puzzle, with dead ends and false paths. A labyrinth is unicursal; there is one path in and out. You can't make a wrong turn, can't get lost. Everyone gets to the center. Oh, if only the Middle East peace process was so straightforward! There have been so many false starts and dead ends. Or maybe not. Perhaps we are unknowingly on course for the center and each failed agreement is just a twist in the path. The important thing is to keep walking, keep negotiating. Only one thing is certain: if you stop walking you will never get to the center.

Things may be closer than they appear. The labyrinth spirals in and out. At the start of your walk you may be so close to the center that you can bend down and touch it. But the journey's just begun. A few steps later you have landed on the edge and the center is beyond reach. In and out, closer and farther away. Then, surprise! You have reached the center. In this peace process we don't know where we are - whether we are close to the center or far away. We won't know until we get there.

We walk alone. Even when there are dozens of other people walking the labyrinth with you, you walk alone, at your own pace, carrying your own burdens. Nobody else can walk it for you. I am intrigued by the Geneva Initiative, an innovative Middle East peace plan developed outside official channels. Its backers are distributing a copy to every household in the region, inviting everyone to discuss it. Just as we must walk the labyrinth on our own, the path to Middle East peace must be traveled by everyone affected.

There are no shortcuts. The point of the labyrinth is the journey. You could get to the center in a few quick strides, but it would be to a center empty of meaning. The journey, the process itself it important, and we cannot take shortcuts.

Engraved in the stone of the Chartres labyrinth are the words of the Miserere, Psalm 51, which begins "Miserere mei," have mercy upon me. The Psalmist asks for mercy because he has deviated from the path, confused good and evil.

The second half of the Psalm give a clue to what is needed for healing and wholeness: "Create in me a clean heart and renew a right spirit within me."

Perhaps this is the ultimate lesson of the labyrinth. To approach the Middle East peace process with a clean heart and a right spirit. In a labyrinthine way, I offer you this as my resolution for the new year: to trust that the path will take me to the center of truth and to write about peace with a clean heart and a right spirit.

Susan Ives can be reached at suives@texas.net.