Last weekend's guys' retreat, while leaving me still no closer to knowing
my vocation (although, still discerning), left me with some incredible memories. Yer monkster is not exactly what you would call a very manly fellow, as that type of guy is less likely to write words like "manly fellow". I dig playing sports, but if I try to watch them on TV I am more likely to notice how the teams' colors clash with the AstroTurf, and would be much happier watching HGTV than ESPN. Heck, even though I have a tattoo, it's of two kids hugging. So for me to be around only guys for a weekend is a rare thing.The last time was back in 1997, when still an atheist, I accompanied my then Christian brother to the Promise Keepers "Stand in the Gap" event on the Washington, DC Mall (kinda like the Million Man March, but without the fascism and bigotry of a Farraknan event). I can easily say that it was one of the most incredible days of my life, and while I did not respond at the time, I could feel the presence of the Holy Spirit as strong as any time since.
I have three distinct memories of that day. The first was watching an old biker dude get on his knees and beg forgiveness of a black gentleman, for his racist past (both showed love, as one repented, and the other, although uncomfortable, allowed him to). The next was the image of thousands of small prayer circles on the Mall, from a distance giving the impression of a large flower bed, being gently tended to by the Father, Almighty.
The last memory, was when I was in a long line of Christian men, to use the Men's room at the Smithsonian, and someone sneezed. No one said "God bless you", and that just struck me as funny (but almost everything strikes me as funny).
Anyhoo, back to last weekend. As it's usually the female voices that dominate the singing during a Mass, I nearly wept at the beautiful the sound from this ragamuffin band of Catholic men, when we sang the prayers and hymns. I did kinda notice that some of us may have been singing a bit deeper than usual, to sound extra manly (o;
My favorite image and memory, was that of us taking a long, slow, Rosary walk on Saturday night, just as the sun was setting in the evening sky. It was perfect that we did it on the second day, as by that time we were all a bit more casual with each other, which seemed to make the prayer especially peaceful. I can honestly say I have never been so happy to be with a bunch of guys, as I was during that walk. Just a small band of men, walking up a country road, who happened to be surrounded by all the angels and saints, as we prayed with our Blessed Lady, to the Lord, our God.
- Pray for us, O Holy Mother of God.
- That we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.
6 comments:
Monkster, allow me to recommend once again a look-see, or better, a weekend retreat @ Holy Cross Abbey, Berryville, VA.
You don't strike me as a Cistercian, but it was and is an important place for me, both prior to and ex post facto of my conversion. See what you think. There's nothing quite like being in the Chapel at 3:10 am just before the monks and brothers start their day. (I, however, go back to bed after that service...)
"You don't strike me as a Cistercian"
You ain't the first to say that, my friend.
Yes, I want to go on another retreat soon, thanks for the suggestion.
"Yes, I want to go on another retreat soon, thanks for the suggestion."
Dear D’Artagnan or I mean Dear Monkster,
Hummm, retreat 1 leads to retreat 2 and retreat 2 leads to retreat 3 and so on. There you go and the next thing you find yourself singing, Pop Goes the Weasle. Don't get me wrong, I love retreats and maybe that is why I stay involved with our local Cursillo community as we put on 4 weekend experiences (preferring not to label them retreats) each year.
But in the height of my "retreat days" I came across something that forever changed my perspective on religion and spirituality -- Rene Girard and Gil Bailie. Retreats suddenly took on a deeper meaning. Though it took many ‘listens’ and repeated readings of their works to help me want to get off the merry-go-round that I had been on and to really take stock in Christ and how He wants to mold me into an instrument of God. Grounding myself in an Christological Anthropology opened a pathway to something new and yet ever old. Gil Bailie addresses this a bit HERE in one of his first posts to his new blog. “Speaking from experience, I can predict that those who peer through the anthropological lens Girard’s work provides will experience Christianity and the Christian truth claims as if for the first time. The experience will be a kind of ground-breaking experience. In truth, however, it will simply be another instance of what has happened ever and again throughout history.”
Peace be with you as you continue to discern your calling.
I am glad you said it took a while for the ideas to set in, as trying to read the stuff hurts my brain.
But it took me forever to get through "Theology of the Body" too
"But it took me forever to get through "Theology of the Body" too."
Interesting. I paused on the words 'get through' -- hummm.
There is stuff to 'get through' and then there is stuff to go deeper in... at least it seems to me.
You wrote: "the stuff hurts my brain" and I think like Athos' post on the key, where we live so 'deep' in the world that to come up and out of it for a few spare moments gasping for some clean fresh air of the Light, the Way and the Truth I think we should expect that one can experience a headache. This is normal and it may indicate that you need to be planning your next retreat already. Once your 'retreats' start flowing together, one right after the next, the headache you felt when gasping for air should subside and the breathing-in of the new (and yet forever old) insights that the lens of Girard will help you take in will feel ... right. So I suggest that you don't be in a mind to 'get through' it.
agreed!
but TOB was a tough read, as I must say, it wasn't overly well written.
Post a Comment