Seeking God on Retreat at St. Benedict’s Abbey
“This retreat is going to be an absolute disaster!” I said to myself many times. Often feeling fatigued as I set up for the retreat – set the table, put glasses out, don’t forget the bowl of candy, pens and paper, move that table there … oh, no, they’re about to come and I still have several things to do! … and so on. And yet, every retreat I begin with prayer, surrendering to the will of God and asking for an outpouring of the Holy Spirit, and God takes over. The participants feel cared for, nourished spiritually, and most of all, enter into a connection with a type of life that is quite unlike theirs: monastic life. They see us in our black habits, praying the psalms several times per day, having many opportunities for silence, and they know that there are men who are praying for them.
“What a gift!” they say, and I say as well, looking at them. “What a gift it is for me to share what God has given me to those who come seeking for a fragment of it, something they can take back to their daily, ordinary lives.” Silence, love of the psalms, seeking God in the ordinary, and acts of hospitality are some of the things they take back to their homes and families.
Most of all, I want them to grow in love of God more and more, that this retreat experience may not be just one of many but it may help them, even ever so slightly or in life-changing ways, to know that they are loved by God and that they can love Him back. And the Benedictine way of doing this by teaching them about lectio divina. This topic ends up in just about every retreat that I lead. It is a way of drinking deeply of the well of Sacred Scripture though an opening, which may be a word or a phrase or an image contained in the selection of Scripture. To know that God has selected that opening for you, to drink from it and rediscover His love for you, the innumerable gifts of God come forth from here. Once discovered, one learns to pray again, deeply, beautifully. And to see the retreatant grow in this is a marvelous gift for me. “I’m glad they get something out of this retreat,” I often say, “because I sure do!”
I began work as retreat master in 2017. I think in terms of what I call “the mint on the pillow” syndrome. Make the bed without the mint, people won’t notice, but add something, and people feel cared for. In other words, making sure there is plenty of coffee, snacks, retreat pamphlets, pens and paper, etc., these are all my “mints on the pillow.” A fine retreat can still be done without them, but the retreat is ever slightly better with them. All part of hospitality!
“All guests who present themselves are to be welcomed as Christ … monasteries are never without them …” (Rule of St Benedict, 53). I think back on the people I have met, the college student in need of a break, the non-Catholic ministers seeking something more, the elderly finding peace here, the busy executive needing a break, the priests needing a recharge. The man whose father was the doctor in the tent with Patton when he threw out the soldier who was there because he had “the shakes” (he had malaria). The Korean couple serving at Fort Leavenworth who wanted to see a monastery. Then there are the groups, the faithful friends from Jefferson City who have been coming here annually for 30 years, the Young Catholic Professionals, the college students for our Triduum Retreats (which started in the year 2000), and a variety of groups that have passed through here. I learn (and often forget) their names and their stories.
And more will come, seeking God, with us monks who are doing the same. I am grateful to be in this role, and I ask God to continually bless it and us through it. I am reminded that no retreat is ever a disaster, because God is in charge. I just have to set the table and let Him lead the retreat.