Longings Neglected

In the September 2017 United Church Observer, in an article entitled "Yearning," written by Jan Dawson, she quotes Barbara Sheppard, who leads silent retreats at the Sisterhood of St. John the Divine convent in Toronto, who said this:  "We often think going on retreat will bring us into a place of stillness and calm.  However, it is often the times of silence and solitude, the context of prayerfulness, that can actually open us up to the buried longing we have been neglecting."

This quote resonated with me and my recent experience at Loyola House for an eight day silent retreat.  I went to be still and connect with God.  Instead, I discovered a deep longing within me, which brought a lot of tears and some deep soul-searching.

I realize now that the part of me with which I connected at the retreat had been neglected.  My life is very full, which isn't something I want to feel guilty about.  I didn't neglect this part purposefully.  When I'm working, I am very busy, and I enjoy the pace of my life, but in keeping up with that pace, I leave certain things behind.  Now that I am on a three month sabbatical, I'm realizing that these neglected parts are badly in need of attention.

Spanish mystic John the Cross wrote, "You fled like the stag after wounding me; I went out calling you, but you were gone."  During the retreat I struggled to feel God's presence and to connect with the Spirit surrounding me, even in nature where I always experience an energy that moves and fills me.  This time I felt empty and alone, even abandoned.

Much of my time away from work in recent years has been for further study or vacation with family.  I haven't been leaving much time for God in my life.  I'm realizing that God hasn't gone away; it's me that's been gone and now I'm struggling to find my way back.  So, I'm spending time in prayer every morning, pausing before meals to give thanks, my journal writing is more about my feelings than my thoughts, I'm reading more and watching screens less, and, in general, finding my way back to God, connecting with that presence in which "we live and move and have [our] being." (Act 17:28)

When I return to work, the challenge will be to find a balance between the busyness of the work I love and continuing to connect with that holy presence in my daily life, not waiting to find I've neglected it during my next sabbatical.

Silence on Retreat

Last week, I began an 8-day silent retreat at Loyola House in Guelph, part of the Ignatius Jesuit Centre.  I have never done a silent retreat for this long, my longest begin over a weekend.  We all had our own room, we ate communally but silently, and we each met with a spiritual director for about 30-45 minutes every day. 

Many people told me that they could never do a silent retreat for that long.  I knew it would be challenging, but being silent is not difficult for me and I wondered whether I would settle right into it.  What I discovered is that although I can keep from speaking for a long periods of time, the difficult part is silencing my thoughts.  Becoming still is not just about not moving or speaking; it's about opening yourself to the universe without distractions.  And my thoughts are definitely a distraction. 

I did a lot of praying.  I attended daily mass every day before lunch.  I went for long walks.  I journalled.  I read scripture.  I did a lot of sleeping.  The days become very long when they are not filled with tasks. 

By the end of the eight days, I was ready to be home.  I have realized that I have a lot of work to do.  In the time that I spent connecting with God, I realized that if I'm not doing this on a regular basis, in my daily life, it becomes much more difficult during a time of retreat.  I also realized that I have some emotional blocks from childhood that I still need to work through.  Although I felt lonely during this time and frustrated with my inability to connect with the holy, I learned some valuable lessons that I will continue to work through during my time of sabbatical. 

During my time, I memorized a psalm, which I will carry with me into my times of prayer.  It starts like this:

You, God, are my God.
Earnestly I seek you.
I thirst for you.
My whole being longs for you,
in a dry and parched and
where there is no water.  (Psalm 63)

When I first read the psalm, I envisioned my surroundings and maybe my culture as that dry and parched land, but as I kept reading and reciting it, I realized that this dry and parched land lies within me.  During this time of Lent (which began on Wednesday), I will continue to find the time each day to connect with the universe around me and with God and maybe find an oasis. 

Meetings at Wells

As a part of my sabbatical, I am visiting other churches, observing different ways of worship.  I love a good sermon, and today I was blest with one.  From previous posts, you might be aware that I love the stories of the bible, and some of my most enjoyable sermons are those that unpack the stories of the bible and offer new discoveries and thoughts around well known passages.

Today's sermon was focused on the Samaritan woman at the well, from the gospel of John (4:1-42).  It's a long story, complex and full of meaning.  One difficulty in preaching on this passage is deciding on what aspect you are going to focus and then sticking with it.  The preacher talked a bit about bad theology and the preconceived ideas around this story.  For example, that the woman was one of low virtue because she has been married five times and was now living with someone who was not her husband.  We were reminded today though that no where in this passage does Jesus talk about sin and repentance.  This woman may have been the victim of multiple divorces because of her barrenness.  The man she is living with now may have been the brother of her most recent husband, as the custom in those days was that the brother was to care for his dead brother's wife.  This Samaritan woman is inquisitive, she challenges Jesus' words, she is witty, and she is the first apostle in the gospel of John.  She was the first to share her story of Jesus, to witness, with others. 

One aspect of the story that was new to me was around the setting of the story.  Jesus is in Samaria, which in itself is unusual, as there is great animosity between the Jewish and Samaritan people.  Jesus, tired from his journey, decides to rest by a well, Jacob's well.  The preacher described this place as a romantic spot, a place where people came to be betrothed.  Meetings at wells is mentioned other times in our bible, i.e. the place where Isaac's wife, Rebecca, was found, where Jacob first fell in love with Rachel, and where Moses met his wife, Zipporah.  Even if this well wasn't the same well, the people hearing John's gospel would have recognized the significance.  When two people (usually a man and woman) meet at a well, something significant happens, usually a marriage. 

The preacher asked us to imagine Sleeping Beauty being asleep and being awoken by a kiss or the Princess kissing the frog and the frog transforming into a prince.  These are common motifs in our current culture.  For first century people familiar with the Hebrew Scriptures, this coming together at a well, one coming to rest after a long journey, and one offering the other water, was a common motif for some kind of transformation or new kind of relationship.  I'm not suggesting a romantic relationship between Jesus and the Samaritan woman, but it was possibly symbolic of the connection between these two people. 

To me this is another example of the ties the Christian stories with the Hebrew stories and that without truly understanding the Hebrew stories, we cannot full understand the intricacies of the stories about our Jewish saviour, Jesus, who had Jewish disciples, who was challenged by Jewish authorities, and who was raised by a Jewish family and in a Jewish culture.  Even the Samaritan woman recognized Jesus' Jewishness and challenged him on his authority in Samaria.  But even the Samaritan woman recognized in this man something special.  He claimed to be the Messiah.  Was he?  Whether he was or not, he was important enough to her to make sure her community knew about him and that he was welcomed among them to continue teaching and sharing stories with them.  May we all be so bold.