Just why would anyone want to be in solitude for fourteen days? What attraction does a sparsely equipped hermitage in the desert hold? What lessons are there to learn in the silence that isn't really silence; in the stillness that is left after the whirlwind and earthquake?
Some might speculate that a person chooses to go on a retreat like this one to seek healing and peace after traumatic life events occur. That's very probable and was certainly on my agenda when I made plans to go to Nada. I was fairly sure while preparing to be in solitude that I would think about my dad's passing and my son's troubles and all that means to me in my current situation. I also knew I was going to explore my decision about vocational discernment, and about what it would mean to stay with teaching young adults for up to five more years. Surprisingly, I spent only a little time dealing with those hurtful places, and the vocational discernment just felt more and more "right" as I thought about the ministry that I could now do because my life would not be consumed with becoming a priest.
Mostly, however, I just stopped to listen. Sometimes a thought would "pop" into my head or an angel would whisper a sweet remembrance in my ear of a God who loves me. It only took a day or so, and prayer became deep and rich and filled a longing in my soul that I often don't take the time to nourish when I'm "doing" life. One night at Nada when I was awake because I had taken an especially long and satisfying afternoon nap, I sat in the window seat gazing at the moonlit landscape. The moon was full and outshone many of the stars in that amazing sky, but there were also clouds that would occasionally cover the moon as she traveled slowly across my line of vision creating an other-worldly effect.
Earlier in the day, I read the Elijah and Elisha cycles in the Book of First and Second Kings. These stories are really entertaining as well as insightful. Of course, Nada, is a Carmelite Community which harkens back all the way to Elijah and his school of prophets on Mt. Carmel in northern Israel. I was especially struck by God's coming to Elijah on Mt. Horeb. God wasn't in the strong wind, nor earthquake, nor fire. God was in the gentle breeze and spoke with a still, small voice.
God is present in the hermitage in the same way God was present to Elijah on Mt. Horeb. The gentle breeze, the amazing sky, the moonlight, the desert flower, the gentle rain all contributed to my recognition of God's presence in and around me there in that place of solitude. I heard God speak in my heart, and the words were about love. When my prayers had words to them, I prayed for strength to remain present and to meet Love with love. And that became my work in the hermitage.
In the past, retreats have afforded me the opportunity to go to liturgies as early as 3:20 AM and to fill my days with the rich prayers of Trappist tradition. This retreat allowed me time to simply be. I didn't fast; I didn't have a set schedule of waking and resting. I didn't even have a set schedule for meals. My only "discipline" was to sing Compline (from memory) each evening, and to wash the dishes as the sun set in order to see it from my kitchen window. I somehow realized I was ready to give up the illusion of being a spiritual athlete and to simply be gentler with myself.
Of course, my ego tried to shoulder its way into the hermitage. It's still fighting for an identity I've decided not to give it, at least not in the most accepted form of that identity. Knowing that God loves me is all that I can promise my ego at this point. Loving us, however, does not mean giving into our every whim or granting wishes like the magic genii. It's up to me, through prayer, to figure out where Love extends and when the magic thinking takes over.
I believe my retreat at Nada has allowed me to become truer to myself. I am growing older, and my circumstances are changing. But external expectations can no longer be the basis for my decisions in life. From now on, my decisions will be based on who I am and who I want to become as I continue to grow more and more in the image and likeness of Christ. That's what I learned at Nada. That was the purpose of my retreat.
Some might speculate that a person chooses to go on a retreat like this one to seek healing and peace after traumatic life events occur. That's very probable and was certainly on my agenda when I made plans to go to Nada. I was fairly sure while preparing to be in solitude that I would think about my dad's passing and my son's troubles and all that means to me in my current situation. I also knew I was going to explore my decision about vocational discernment, and about what it would mean to stay with teaching young adults for up to five more years. Surprisingly, I spent only a little time dealing with those hurtful places, and the vocational discernment just felt more and more "right" as I thought about the ministry that I could now do because my life would not be consumed with becoming a priest.
Mostly, however, I just stopped to listen. Sometimes a thought would "pop" into my head or an angel would whisper a sweet remembrance in my ear of a God who loves me. It only took a day or so, and prayer became deep and rich and filled a longing in my soul that I often don't take the time to nourish when I'm "doing" life. One night at Nada when I was awake because I had taken an especially long and satisfying afternoon nap, I sat in the window seat gazing at the moonlit landscape. The moon was full and outshone many of the stars in that amazing sky, but there were also clouds that would occasionally cover the moon as she traveled slowly across my line of vision creating an other-worldly effect.
Earlier in the day, I read the Elijah and Elisha cycles in the Book of First and Second Kings. These stories are really entertaining as well as insightful. Of course, Nada, is a Carmelite Community which harkens back all the way to Elijah and his school of prophets on Mt. Carmel in northern Israel. I was especially struck by God's coming to Elijah on Mt. Horeb. God wasn't in the strong wind, nor earthquake, nor fire. God was in the gentle breeze and spoke with a still, small voice.
God is present in the hermitage in the same way God was present to Elijah on Mt. Horeb. The gentle breeze, the amazing sky, the moonlight, the desert flower, the gentle rain all contributed to my recognition of God's presence in and around me there in that place of solitude. I heard God speak in my heart, and the words were about love. When my prayers had words to them, I prayed for strength to remain present and to meet Love with love. And that became my work in the hermitage.
In the past, retreats have afforded me the opportunity to go to liturgies as early as 3:20 AM and to fill my days with the rich prayers of Trappist tradition. This retreat allowed me time to simply be. I didn't fast; I didn't have a set schedule of waking and resting. I didn't even have a set schedule for meals. My only "discipline" was to sing Compline (from memory) each evening, and to wash the dishes as the sun set in order to see it from my kitchen window. I somehow realized I was ready to give up the illusion of being a spiritual athlete and to simply be gentler with myself.
Of course, my ego tried to shoulder its way into the hermitage. It's still fighting for an identity I've decided not to give it, at least not in the most accepted form of that identity. Knowing that God loves me is all that I can promise my ego at this point. Loving us, however, does not mean giving into our every whim or granting wishes like the magic genii. It's up to me, through prayer, to figure out where Love extends and when the magic thinking takes over.
I believe my retreat at Nada has allowed me to become truer to myself. I am growing older, and my circumstances are changing. But external expectations can no longer be the basis for my decisions in life. From now on, my decisions will be based on who I am and who I want to become as I continue to grow more and more in the image and likeness of Christ. That's what I learned at Nada. That was the purpose of my retreat.
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