Rambling on Retreat
I spent the past three days on retreat at the Community of the Transfiguration motherhouse in Cincinnati. My experience of this short retreat was full of surprises. Up until now, I have never taken any formal retreat that involved staying multiple days/nights anywhere. I have had day retreats at Notre Dame where I work but obviously there's a lot of familiarity there - this was a completely new place with lots of people I didn't know. I've read about retreats in monastic communities and I think I experienced some of the same things that others have, in trying to adjust to an environment where prayer has such a huge emphasis and you are really forced to be alone with God.
My first night was a bit dramatic; a pipe had burst and there was no water at the convent, meaning I had to spend the night in a guest cottage with another person. She was very nice and accommodating but it was kind of awkward. That first night I lay on the bed, winding down from a long drive and the hubbub of arriving, and I found myself feeling pretty out of place. "What am I doing here? Why am I doing this?" I kept asking myself. I had planned to keep distractions to a minimum, so I brought very few books and turned off notifications on my phone. That left me alone with my thoughts. Turns out, I really don't like being in that situation.
I struggle with depression and anxiety. My thoughts are usually racing, and without a book or social media to escape into, they seemed to be almost unbearable. I had been told by the sister who greeted me that I could sleep in if I wanted to, but I decided to get up early for the 7 am Lauds and Morning Prayer. I thought if I could be in prayer it would help. However, it wasn't that easy.
The Sisters pray 4 times a day communally - first thing in the morning, at noon, at 5 pm and then at night before they go to bed. Lauds/Morning Prayer/Eucharist, Noon office, Evensong, Compline. It was harder for me to adjust to that than I thought it would be. My own schedule at home is kind of all over the place. I don't get up at the same time every day, I usually don't work the same time every day, and pretty much minute by minute things are loosely structured but can change at the drop of a hat. Occasionally it bothers me when I think I know what my day is going to be like, and then it suddenly changes and I have to readjust my vision of what I'm doing. But I've been doing this for a while, so to have a day that is so structured is very different for me. As far as my prayer life goes, it's also unstructured. I feel like I spend a lot of time in prayer most days overall, but usually only a minute or two at a time. It's kind of like subsisting on snacks throughout the day rather than sitting down for set meals. Speaking of which, most meals at the convent are silent. I never realized how much I like talking to people until I couldn't do it! (I think I'm actually more of an "ambivert" than an introvert anyway.)
My experience of prayer at the various times on Friday was pretty dry. Christians who have read about people like John of the Cross know what I mean; it's when you are trying and trying to pray but it just feels really empty, like God's not there. And plenty of people, plenty of saints, experience it. Mother Teresa experienced it. It was making me feel really bad; here I was taking time off work and trying to get closer to God and it just felt like I was getting farther away. I felt kind of sad and angry. I kept telling myself I was trying too hard but it didn't help; in fact it kind of made me feel worse, like it was my fault.
Speaking of "dry"... another order of nuns that I have visited, the Byzantine sisters at Christ the Bridegroom monastery in Burton, also have cabins where one can take a retreat. They call them "poustinias". Poustinia comes from the Greek for "desert". The sisters themselves go on Poustina periodically to hear God's voice. The reason why they think of this experience as a desert has to do with the story of Jesus going into the desert for 40 days and being tempted. I thought of that story while I was on retreat, because that was kind of what it felt like. A lot of thoughts that I'd been pushing away were surfacing, doubts I'd been having about myself and my vocation.
I'm happy to say that I did end up coming out of the harsh part of the "desert" and experiencing a moment when I did feel I heard the Spirit speaking to me. Saturday morning after the morning prayer and Eucharist I was still "not feeling it" so I went for a walk. It was incredibly muggy but early enough that it wasn't hot (it would end up being nearly 90 degrees that day). I found a labyrinth and decided to walk it; it was there, in the center, that I had my "breakthrough".
Standing there in the center, being devoured by mosquitoes, I faced a statue of the Blessed Mother. She had green imprints on her face from where wet leaves had stuck to the gray stone. I thought of viriditas and smiled.
Mary is a complicated subject for me. I've had a hard time connecting with her, although I have wanted to. In the Anglican/Episcopal tradition she is revered; maybe not to the same degree as the Catholic tradition I was brought up in, but she is certainly important. And in that Catholic tradition I grew up with, there was so much emphasis placed on Mary's perpetual virginity. Plus, she had been used to exemplify certain traits of "ideal womanhood" that are very problematic for real women. However, the Magnificat is one of my most favorite scripture passages of all time. When I think of the courage it took for Mary to say "behold the handmaid of the Lord, be it unto me according to your word," it often gives me chills. This experience on retreat led me to appreciate her in a new way, and I'm going to attempt to explain it here.
Just really think about it for a minute. You've got this young Jewish woman (girl, really - probably young teenager) who is living under occupation. Like the rest of her Jewish community, she is waiting for deliverance from oppression. They have faith that God will do something big to save them. One day, God reveals to Mary that he's going to do that big thing, and she will play a big part in it. I imagine that although she must have been afraid and confused, she had to also feel kind of excited. Maybe she said yes before she really knew what she was getting in to. Maybe later on she had doubts, even wondered "what was I thinking?" Then I thought about being a mother. I don't have children of my own, but I imagine that for many people, you don't think about all the little details before you have a child. You kind of learn as you go along. Nobody's completely prepared, no one has a perfect guidebook to tell them how to be a parent, they just do it. Love leads the way, and the rest falls into place.
In my own experience, when I felt God was calling me to do something, I was definitely confused and afraid, and tried to push it away for a while. I was much more like Moses than Mary ("no God, not me! I'm a terrible speaker! Send someone else!"). Then once I decided to say yes, I found myself learning more things and starting to have doubts. I still had (and have) the excitement and the desire, but I also had times where I felt like an impostor. I'm only just starting on the discernment journey and I'm sure I'll have more times of thinking "yeah right, who do you think you're kidding?" as I go. But I thought about that idea of loving first, and learning the rest as I go. I know no matter what I do, love is my ultimate vocation.
This post is kind of all over the place, but I think it's an accurate depiction of where I was at over the last three days. I had better experiences at prayer after my labyrinth moment but it wasn't perfect the entire remaining time. I think it helped me sort through a lot of things that I needed to sort through. The setting was beautiful and the sisters were so kind and hospitable. When we did have meals that allowed conversation, I had a lovely time getting to know them. Sunday morning at breakfast another woman who was on retreat (the same woman who graciously allowed me to sleep in her cabin on Thursday night) told us a story that I loved, and I want to include it here so I don't forget:
A woman who worked at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco was once approached by a visitor. The visitor asked, "How much does it cost to get baptized here?" The woman thought for a moment, then replied, "Everything."
I think I needed that reminder. I also think I needed to see the prayerful life that the sisters of the Transfiguration live in order to assess my own prayer life. I don't think it will ever look like theirs, but it could use some more structure and some more devotion. I think it will help me to "fill up" so that I don't try to "pour from an empty cup". In closing, I got another reminder of something important from this morning's collect: God is "always more ready to hear than we to pray, and to give more than we either desire or deserve", and God "forgives us those things of which our conscience is afraid, and (gives) us those good things for which we are not worthy to ask." (paraphrased from the Proper 22 collect, BCP)
My first night was a bit dramatic; a pipe had burst and there was no water at the convent, meaning I had to spend the night in a guest cottage with another person. She was very nice and accommodating but it was kind of awkward. That first night I lay on the bed, winding down from a long drive and the hubbub of arriving, and I found myself feeling pretty out of place. "What am I doing here? Why am I doing this?" I kept asking myself. I had planned to keep distractions to a minimum, so I brought very few books and turned off notifications on my phone. That left me alone with my thoughts. Turns out, I really don't like being in that situation.
I struggle with depression and anxiety. My thoughts are usually racing, and without a book or social media to escape into, they seemed to be almost unbearable. I had been told by the sister who greeted me that I could sleep in if I wanted to, but I decided to get up early for the 7 am Lauds and Morning Prayer. I thought if I could be in prayer it would help. However, it wasn't that easy.
The Sisters pray 4 times a day communally - first thing in the morning, at noon, at 5 pm and then at night before they go to bed. Lauds/Morning Prayer/Eucharist, Noon office, Evensong, Compline. It was harder for me to adjust to that than I thought it would be. My own schedule at home is kind of all over the place. I don't get up at the same time every day, I usually don't work the same time every day, and pretty much minute by minute things are loosely structured but can change at the drop of a hat. Occasionally it bothers me when I think I know what my day is going to be like, and then it suddenly changes and I have to readjust my vision of what I'm doing. But I've been doing this for a while, so to have a day that is so structured is very different for me. As far as my prayer life goes, it's also unstructured. I feel like I spend a lot of time in prayer most days overall, but usually only a minute or two at a time. It's kind of like subsisting on snacks throughout the day rather than sitting down for set meals. Speaking of which, most meals at the convent are silent. I never realized how much I like talking to people until I couldn't do it! (I think I'm actually more of an "ambivert" than an introvert anyway.)
My experience of prayer at the various times on Friday was pretty dry. Christians who have read about people like John of the Cross know what I mean; it's when you are trying and trying to pray but it just feels really empty, like God's not there. And plenty of people, plenty of saints, experience it. Mother Teresa experienced it. It was making me feel really bad; here I was taking time off work and trying to get closer to God and it just felt like I was getting farther away. I felt kind of sad and angry. I kept telling myself I was trying too hard but it didn't help; in fact it kind of made me feel worse, like it was my fault.
Speaking of "dry"... another order of nuns that I have visited, the Byzantine sisters at Christ the Bridegroom monastery in Burton, also have cabins where one can take a retreat. They call them "poustinias". Poustinia comes from the Greek for "desert". The sisters themselves go on Poustina periodically to hear God's voice. The reason why they think of this experience as a desert has to do with the story of Jesus going into the desert for 40 days and being tempted. I thought of that story while I was on retreat, because that was kind of what it felt like. A lot of thoughts that I'd been pushing away were surfacing, doubts I'd been having about myself and my vocation.
I'm happy to say that I did end up coming out of the harsh part of the "desert" and experiencing a moment when I did feel I heard the Spirit speaking to me. Saturday morning after the morning prayer and Eucharist I was still "not feeling it" so I went for a walk. It was incredibly muggy but early enough that it wasn't hot (it would end up being nearly 90 degrees that day). I found a labyrinth and decided to walk it; it was there, in the center, that I had my "breakthrough".
Just really think about it for a minute. You've got this young Jewish woman (girl, really - probably young teenager) who is living under occupation. Like the rest of her Jewish community, she is waiting for deliverance from oppression. They have faith that God will do something big to save them. One day, God reveals to Mary that he's going to do that big thing, and she will play a big part in it. I imagine that although she must have been afraid and confused, she had to also feel kind of excited. Maybe she said yes before she really knew what she was getting in to. Maybe later on she had doubts, even wondered "what was I thinking?" Then I thought about being a mother. I don't have children of my own, but I imagine that for many people, you don't think about all the little details before you have a child. You kind of learn as you go along. Nobody's completely prepared, no one has a perfect guidebook to tell them how to be a parent, they just do it. Love leads the way, and the rest falls into place.
In my own experience, when I felt God was calling me to do something, I was definitely confused and afraid, and tried to push it away for a while. I was much more like Moses than Mary ("no God, not me! I'm a terrible speaker! Send someone else!"). Then once I decided to say yes, I found myself learning more things and starting to have doubts. I still had (and have) the excitement and the desire, but I also had times where I felt like an impostor. I'm only just starting on the discernment journey and I'm sure I'll have more times of thinking "yeah right, who do you think you're kidding?" as I go. But I thought about that idea of loving first, and learning the rest as I go. I know no matter what I do, love is my ultimate vocation.
This post is kind of all over the place, but I think it's an accurate depiction of where I was at over the last three days. I had better experiences at prayer after my labyrinth moment but it wasn't perfect the entire remaining time. I think it helped me sort through a lot of things that I needed to sort through. The setting was beautiful and the sisters were so kind and hospitable. When we did have meals that allowed conversation, I had a lovely time getting to know them. Sunday morning at breakfast another woman who was on retreat (the same woman who graciously allowed me to sleep in her cabin on Thursday night) told us a story that I loved, and I want to include it here so I don't forget:
A woman who worked at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco was once approached by a visitor. The visitor asked, "How much does it cost to get baptized here?" The woman thought for a moment, then replied, "Everything."
I think I needed that reminder. I also think I needed to see the prayerful life that the sisters of the Transfiguration live in order to assess my own prayer life. I don't think it will ever look like theirs, but it could use some more structure and some more devotion. I think it will help me to "fill up" so that I don't try to "pour from an empty cup". In closing, I got another reminder of something important from this morning's collect: God is "always more ready to hear than we to pray, and to give more than we either desire or deserve", and God "forgives us those things of which our conscience is afraid, and (gives) us those good things for which we are not worthy to ask." (paraphrased from the Proper 22 collect, BCP)
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