April 22, 2024 Monday.
I’ve arrived at Spencer for retreat for the first time. I’ve known and loved – revered – this place for the better part of my life. Many significant times I’ve come here to the visitors chapels at prayer time, walked up and down this hill with friends, talking, and picked up wisdom in the books for sale in the gift shop.
During growing up years at St. John’s in Swampscott, I knew Monsignor Carroll came here each year for retreat. Bishops of The Episcopal Church have had members of this Trappist community as their spiritual directors.
When I’ve lived near, and when I’ve lived far away, this place has remained for me powerfully a holy place, a ‘thin place.’
And now, after all the years and all the memories, I’m here for retreat until Friday.
It is good to be here.
7:11 PM
Between Vespers and Compline
A sweet arrival at the retreat house this afternoon. Ed, who welcomed me, consulted his list when I introduced myself, and then he said, as he began to lead to my room, “You’re St. John Vianney.“ Now there is food for thought. And sure enough, I’m looking at an image of Vianney hanging on the wall at the end of my bed.
Vespers was my first time ever in the heart of the Abbey Church, looking toward the altar and the familiar visitors chapels to left and right. There were about 25 monks, chanting, vespers, mostly older, but present and vigorous enough.
There are 10 of us on retreat. Most are priests and deacons – maybe local? – who seem to know one another.
There is a spectacular view from John Vianney’s window – open green, fertile land under a vast blue – white sky and a single road, passing through it. Looking like a pilgrim’s path.
Off now toward Compline.
April 23, 2024 – St. George.
11:05 am
Refresh of Centering Prayer —>
- Kyrie
- 2-3 minutes post-prayer silence
- Thru the day – ‘O God, come to my assistance!’
8:44pm
Incredibly beautiful Passover full moon last night and tonight. I took photos, but they cannot do justice to the reality.
Beautiful Compline this evening. sung accompanied by strings. That line in Psalm 90/91 hit me powerfully tonight with its beauty, truth, and hope:
“When you call, I will say: ‘ I am with you.’”
“I am with you.“
Is there anything else that could be wanted or needed? No. It’s all right there in that little sentence: I am with you.
Thinking at the end of day two of retreat: does the gathering repeatedly for prayer make the hours holy? Or does the gathering repeatedly for prayer reveal the holiness of the hours?
Or is it both?
And does it matter?
In either case, the hours are holy. The day is holy – from before dawn to the rising again of the moon.
April 24, 2024 Wednesday
Second retreat conference coming up with father Isaac at 9:15 AM
April 25, 2024 – Saint Mark
8:57 AM
Quiet in here today. The group has finally entered the silence. It takes time.
11:06 AM
Father, Isaac, who has directed the retreat, has opened half-hour meetings to us. I just spoke with him – an important conversation for me.
I described to him (briefly!) all the shifts/decisions/movements leading to the coming move to Ireland. He spoke in response of my being in a sense – as he finally summed it up – “a sacrament“ of the churches search for unity. Wow. He saw/heard faithfulness to God‘s way and God’s will carrying constant over the years, over the places. That was moving to hear.
He asked me to keep the monks here, including himself, in prayer. I promised to, and asked him for a remembrance in prayer as well.
It was a rich and grace-filled, God-suffused 30 minutes. Different, he said with a smile than what he usually hears.
11:27 AM
An amazing statement in Father Isaac’s conference this morning, recalling his adolescent conversion:
“God’s train derailed.
the bicycle
of my life.”
I LOVE that, and the powerful saving truth it expresses in such a brief sentence!
8:37 PM.
I have come into a time in my life where gratitude and tears are often twinned. I was going to say ‘gratitude and sorrow’ but those wouldn’t be exactly accurate. Tonight, as I ready to leave here in the morning, tears come. It’s significant that each time I come specifically to a place like this – monastic community – even for a short time, I cry when it’s time to leave. Even though I return to familiar, important, loving people, and situations and work and home.
These places are the center of the world for me. Leaving is like dying. And death as an end (as it claims) makes no sense to me. My heart and mind cry out to the life beyond death, to the resurrection in Christ, we believe and know and hope.
Believe it. 