Seven Thoughts on spontaneously signing up for a retreat at the Jesuit Center

Looking Up at the Jesuit Center
Wernersville, PA

1. Monday night remember that you love creating new designs in Wernersville and see that a retreat is happening the next weekend. Sign up on Tuesday. When you are the only male to show up, read the fine print to see if it was a women's retreat. It wasn't. Still have the longest hair in the room.
2. bring a camera so you don't have to count on old photos to head the blog post.  
3. spend prayer time designing a Wisdom stained glass panel and a turtle.
4. Turtles ~ mention in a news letter that you are thinking about creating a turtle. Get a commission that will include a turtle. Go on a retreat to design the turtle. Laugh when the retreat leader pulls a turtle from her bag. She uses it to remind herself that good things may take a long but slow journey.
5. Wake up on the Sunday and draw a design for the nun who introduced you to Wisdom. Then take an erasure to the panel you had designed. Start the background over. But keep the moon.
6. If you are fighting off a cold, a silent retreat just may not be the source for a miracle cure.
7. When a woman's face shines amongst all the others, draw her a card with wisdom shining upon a focal point. Be brave and give her the design as you pass in a hallway. Accept her hug. Later give her your address when she asks, be filled with hope that you have made a new friend. It can happen at a silent retreat.

and one more thing: on Monday remember what may be the most important thing that flowed into your brain ~ You would rather lose your job before you lose your sense of humor.

how it ended

This is how the Jesuits at Wernersville end an 8 day retreat.... a morning mass.

The homily is given over to the silent folk and the Jesuits just ask for us to be short about our reflections. It's been over a month but I said something like this:

Walking into this retreat 8 days ago, I was greeted warmly by Father Jack, but just on the other side of him I saw a huge list. I nearly gave up on drawing cards for all of you but your presence here means so much to me. It is how I say thanks for your willingness to be with me in silence. I have received so much. I am leaving here today with a calling to make art and to greet God as I enter my studio. Your cards and thanks are going into my studio as a physical reminder of what this retreat has meant to me.

In my studio window is the cross that goes deep (see Jim's comment) and on my walls are cards and slips of paper containing words written in silence. I stand in my studio surrounded by reminders of how powerful a gift of God can be, if shared with the world.

Then it was over and the introvert, who is not so good at hearing nice things about himself, braced himself for some positive attention. Don't these people know how hard it is to hug someone.

anyway, choosing to enter into a relationship with God is far from easy, not always comforting, but can be down right amazing.

Silence with music

Giggles asked...Does silence count if you are listening to your ipod??

Yes it does.

When I am at the Jesuit Center I take music to listen to. It stays in my room except when I go to the exercise room. The Jesuits provide a music room that has a piano, a stereo and music to play on the stereo. There have been times I have sat in the hallway listening to another silent person play piano. So, I see no problem with listening to music in my room.

On my first 8 day retreat I was told some good advice---- when praying, try to last for an hour during each of the three daily prayer times. When not praying, don't pray. give it a break. This is not always possible, but it is more so if one has distractions.

I was also advised against bringing novels and books on spirituality (though they sell these in the book store). I was advised to read a biography if anything. I do little reading, other than my Bible.

so what do I do when not praying, eating, talking with my director, sleeping, or attending the daily mass...

exercise, walk, art work---- lots and lots of art work, math puzzles, shoot pool (and I have had games against other silent folk), play basketball, swim, be massaged, slam a tennis ball against a handball wall, and ...

listen to music especially when doing art work.

now. if I could find a way to be silent when calling Mosaic Woman each evening to say goodnight. and no, a text message just would not meet her needs.

unfolding through the iPod

Sunday morning at the retreat center, I was still craving silence. So after a breakfast conversation, I move to an empty table, take out my iPod and fill out the evaluation form.

I think some of the classic jazz standards speak volumes. This one showed me yet again that God's unfolding kingdom can come at us after being digitalized and shuffled.

Etta James steps backs from the blues to sing about a longing and love that is as deep as the ocean
How far would you travel? How far is this journey? and if this love was lost, how many tears would flow?

Thanks to Irving Berlin for wondering about love.

not quite silent

It has been three years since I attended a Walking With God Retreat, and I was not quite up for one. too much noise for this silent guy. so I adapted.

Friday morning, I being not on top of things asked.... What is the topic of this retreat I am packing up for?

Mosaic Woman.... Dark Night Of The Soul.

Me..... I signed up for a dark night of a soul! How stupid is that?

MW..... Hmmmm

I largely signed up to see some good folk, especially WC. We each consider the other a spiritual master. I may be right. And there she was as I entered the building. Soon enough we were laughing. She is like that, exuberant.

I tell WC..... we need to talk. We set a time.

The Mennonite Catholic (she loves singing hymns with the first and the daily mass of the second) who presented on St John of the Cross and dark nights of souls, makes it clear to me that I have been in a dark place for the past 4-5 weeks. I begin to think that maybe, just maybe God remembered what I had signed up for and said, "OK, so now is a good time to have his past crash back on top of him."

I skip the first workshop which I had signed up for and head to the labyrinth in the woods. It actually loops around a few trees! I have walked them many times and this may have been the deepest a labyrinth has taken me. I went places I won't go to here, but God, WC and Mosaic Woman have agreed to go on the journey with me and it just goes to prove that no matter how much one thinks one has healed, there is room for more. I need to go there. Or I can stay where I am. Wholeness is not all that it is said to be.

I skip the second workshop and head back to the labyrinth. I am calmer. I go take a nap.

I sit with WC and she listens. I ask for help. I swat mosquitoes away from her.

After dinner. After the Taize service. After the Eucharist. After the campfire. After the chat with a stranger in the dining hall, who clearly does not understand personal space isssues... gave me a hug this morning. After I drive down to another part of the camp.... another car pulls into the parking lot. A young woman is looking for someone. It is a name I know. A woman I know from many retreats. I say, "I can take you to her."

Riding back up the hill, I find out that the husband of my friend is in the hospital. Soon I will be in bed listening to Keith Jarrett's piano soothe me as I think of friends who have received bad news while retreating with God.

The next day, I offer up a prayer to these two women.

Then I am helping a Mennonite Catholic prophetess with her luggage. You never know who will bring you out of the darkness by taking you deeper into it. WC seems to think I need to contact this prophetess. So I ask her for her e-mail. For now, the perennials I planted last week need some water.

where the old friends were and 34 cards of Peace

In silence I found not only God but many an old friend....The last three posts were written as I retreated with Jesuits in Wernersville, Pennsylvania.

It may have been some other old friends that resulted in my weight gain... banana cream pie, black raspberry ice cream, sticky buns, tiramisu ...

I do lots of art when retreating and though I tend to give a few things away, most always comes home and sits doing whatever a pile of art does that comes home from a retreat center. As I unpacked the prismacolor pencils from my suitcase I heard, "don't take any art work home with you." The voice didn't tell me what to do with the art work.

I made cards. On each I wrote four things:

1. STRATOZ
2. the date
3. PEACE BE WITH YOU
4. and a name from the list of retreaters.

I prayed that the cards would not distract me from my retreat or distract others from theirs. Some folk broke silence to say a quick thank you. A few wrote notes. Others were mystified by who Stratoz was. As I came back from shaving the last morning, a note sat at my door.

A seminary student from Pittsburgh was on his way out but wanted to thank me. He would add my wife and me to the prayer list at the seminary. He had remembered a prayer I had put out concerning Mosaic Woman on the day we entered the retreat house.

Now I was amazed for sure. I fell into silence and the connection came. I had been guided to reflect upon Jesus handing me a loaf of bread and sending me out to feed the five thousand. "You are a disciple of Christ after all," said the Jesuit, who was guiding me.

I took that bread and I went to family and friends. I imagined a young woman holding a flood damaged violin at the U of Iowa's music dept, I went to China to feed the mourning parents, then down to those we hold captive in Cuba, and I even gave myself a piece to chew on along the way. Could my art work be that bread?

At the final mass those of us who stayed the distance are given a chance to share a thought. I share mine, some of which I wrote above. A half hour later I am sitting, looking out at the nearly empty parking lot. Stories that came to me after the mass were filling my heart and mind about how my cards had entered the lives of those who had entered into silence. Did I do the right thing by handing out those cards? Will I ever do such a thing again?

All week I had watched a woman in mourning. Her pain was immense. I would close my eyes and ask God to be with her, to bring her comfort. As we shared during that final mass, she told us her story, and the room felt her grief. Out of character, I approached her after the mass had ended. She told me that the card had arrived on the one day she had not found any consolation. She hugged me. Then she amazed me. "I did not have the energy to say prayers for many at the retreat, but I did pray for you and your wife."

Normally I feel connected to those who enter silence with me on these 8 day retreats. This time something bigger happened. Somehow given pencils, color, and paper I had fed some people. I am grateful and in awe of what can happen.

and glad that Michelle Shocked singing HOLY SPIRIT by Victoria Williams just kept coming into my head as I walked in silence. Peace to all those good folk who prayed for me, and thank you for accepting my prayers, my bread, and my hope for peace.

being a sponge... more thoughts on Wernersville

I am telling my spiritual director about my time in the cemetery, and she feels I had a sponge moment.

Ignatius said that when we are with God, we are a sponge catching a drop of water. Other times we are a rock. She believes that what I experienced is the joy of the resurrected Christ, and even mentions the phrase, communion of saints. We talk more and then we offer to pray for each other, a deal sealed with a hug. 24 hours ago we had been strangers.

Mass is about to begin when a Jesuit sits down next to me. He was to lead the mass the day before, but is suffering from shingles. One of my favorite memories is this quiet man giving a homily as a boisterous group of women shouted out AMENS. Another Jesuit stepped in for him on Saturday and preached on how difficult it can be to feel the joy of Easter, especially if we expect the wrong response. I guess it can be more like the appreciation of hundreds of years of men choosing to be Jesuits than like a big rolling laugh emerging from one's gut.

Two hours after being told about sponges and rocks, I am once again told about sponges and rocks in the homily. As I leave the sanctuary, I am next to my director who agrees with me that God just may have wanted me to get the sponge message down before I left the retreat.

Joy came in many ways ... Before I headed to breakfast while the only blue sky on Sunday glowed outside my window, I turned on my I-Pod to find Ella Fitzgerald singing Blue Skies .

Later in mass, the Gloria was just a hoot to sing...

who out there is shocked I found joy in music?

OK, so there was also the woman from South Carolina, who says to me on Friday when we are yet to be silent... "I loved the pile of sticks you made in August... you are always here when I am here... what did you write on the path?".... IGGY WAS HERE

The white-breasted nuthatch that stopped by when I paused on a walk.

The tree that caught my attention as I sat looking down at the Jesuit cemetery.

Sunday night the last thing I hear before I fall asleep ... Mosaic woman says... "I am glad you are back home." and my stoic self melts into a sponge that soaks in that drop.

Natus, Ingressus, Orbit, RIP

I am deciding which path to take back to the retreat center when I hear a gaggle of teens. I pause baffled by their presence and then decide I do not want to pass them and I do not want them to pass me. Seeing a stone wall that looks inviting I sit with my back to a cemetery. The teens pass, one sees me and now it is their turn to be baffled by the man with a pony tail sitting on a rock wall. They move on but soon stop by a pond. I decide to go the other way.



I have walked by this cemetery so many times, but unlike the UCC cemetery that is at the top of the hill behind the retreat center, I have never entered it. Now I do.



The dates at first shock me, but it makes sense with the reality I face here at Wernersville. There are less and less retired Jesuits eating next to us these days. 28 marked graves from 2002 till the present. Three new graves without markers.



Whenever I get here, I am told that the retired Jesuits pray for us. We who have come to retreat from everyday life. To be silent. To find God in our stilled beings. I realize that there are 28 men buried here, many or all may have prayed for me. It is time to give thanks.



Natus, Ingressus, Orbit. Three dates below their names tell their story. RIP is the hope that ends it. I am caught by seeing July 30th. A special day for mosaic woman and I. The day that separates our birthday. Three graves in a row are of Jesuits who have the same middle date on their stones. They joined the Jesuits together and now rest in peace side by side.



I move on.



In my room, on my bed, I listen to jazz as the sun sets behind a tree that has been pruned. I see myself in that tree. I am reaching for God as a plant reaches for light. But I allow things to get in the way and a branch gets caught off. Another grows.



What keeps me from feeling the joy of the resurrected Christ? fears, doubts, humanist education, stoic families...



The spiritual exercises are peaking and I am to see my life as a gift from God. A busy God full of creative juices. When light reflects off of me and that creation sees me. Do they see a creature of God? How representative am I? It depends on the moment which I am seen.



At times I find myself wishing that Jesus would show up and heal all of us. But that is not the way to travel. The way is to believe that through love and compassion we can heal those in need.



It is good to be prayed for by Jesuits, and anyone one else who has hopes of seeing me shine in light. It grows my desire to help those who too struggle with being pruned here and there.

Joy emerges

This is the story of a stained glass, it may have started long before I start the story, but most stories do. Tomato seedlings emerging at work were in my head when I headed to Telford, PA a few weeks ago for my Lenten retreat. Reflecting on Isaiah, the image of God holding me in the same manner as when I hold a seedling in the palm of my hand as I move it to a larger less crowded home. Then given some tools to play with, I made these prints....



since the previous week retreats had inspired stained glass (here and here) I imagined making a stained glass that spelled out JOY, but I didn't. The next week in Telford I was directed to do a collage, so being a good student.....




Then I was told to use my scraps to make a collage. The other man in our group had three pieces to work with, but I had plenty and it was a hoot. I loved the result more than my original...



A friend, and co-leader of the retreat, asked me to turn it upside down. A voice rang out, "I see a J." Others agreed, now I had two weeks to get JOY done. Yesterday, with 15 minutes to spare, I took this photo of the result before I headed out to my last Lenten retreat in Telford.....



I took it out of the box and hung it in a window and practiced taking compliments, and thanked them for inspiring me. The piece made it home and has been hanging in a window, which is just to my left. It did make a journey upstairs last night, and with the lights out in my studio, JOY shines out.

Renewal

The sheet had 39 names, by mine I wrote "renewal-- spiritual exercises."

It had been a hectic week with hectic days to come and I let the spiritual exercises slip from my life. Unexpected car problems led to cancelling my Thursday meeting with my spiritual director. My perfect attendance gone, a streak started at the end of August. My stained glass project spelling out Joy was completely stalled. Too much of my limited free time distracting myself on the computer.

So, I wrote I needed prayers for strength and renewal and then I sat and listened to what everyone one else at Mensch Mill retreat center desired in their life. We were a needy group. 25 minutes later, I went to Hannah's prayer in 1st Samuel and prayed. Then something became clear. All the above happened after I had (in imaginative prayer) told Jesus I would never desert him, and he had answered, "yes you will." I had fallen away from Jesus and the spiritual exercises. I was truly in a dry place when I wrote that last post.

Maybe I needed that time. I had imagined fleeing from his side after the arrest, and it had taken hold.

At Mensch I found myself in a small group with some friends from past retreats, and I spoke of where I was finding myself. I used the 20 hours to ask for renewal.

But where do I go from here? During the week before entering Jerusalem with Jesus, I asked myself this question... Do you know Jesus well enough to travel to the cross with him as his friend.

Where am I now? Jesus has been arrested and I am not by his side. Do I come back to him, or am I with the others who fled listening to news reports on what is happening? I am curious as to where my imagination will take me. What feels right in my soul?

Tangled up with Dylan, Miles, and the adulterous woman

I was once a big fan of Bob Dylan. Mosaic woman left for the library on Saturday while I was in the shower. A stained glass design with interweaving lines was on my table with 7 blue-green shades of glass.

So.... I started humming Tangled up in Blue.

But before I cut a piece of glass I headed off to a Lenten Retreat (Art and Soul), and before I was given a chance to play with the art medium of the week (oil pastels), we reflected on Jesus telling the person without sin to cast the first stone to kill the adulterous woman. He then doodled, scribbled, and/or wrote something in the sand. One person suggested that what ever it was, it touched all those sinners in their hearts as they walked away juggling their un-tossed stones.

I sat thinking about a woman at work and thought of my anger. Then given a tiny piece of paper, I drew my anger in the sand as if Jesus was speaking to my heart.



I was then given a larger piece of paper and masking tape to make a frame. I did put my anger in the center of that design waiting for me at home in my studio. I surrounded my anger with blue green then filled in with sand.






The sand and light from God are in my anger but not destroying it. Today I went to work as always, with no intention of stoning anyone, but the anger remains as does hope for a cleansing of the hearts of all those I work with, including myself.

Blue green, that gets us to Miles Davis and 8 days at a Jesuit retreat center, where I experienced light and dark and a love of the color combo-- blue green -- as I doodled listening to Kind of Blue. But that is not what I listened to this past Saturday. I got down on my knees and found Dylan's Blood on The Tracks LP. I kept 6 blue greens, but replaced one with a red-orange glass and this is what I got...

nutmegdesigns

and what about the shower. Without mosaic woman in the house, my hair would not get braided, surely it would get a bit tangled.