Showing posts with label Spiritual Retreat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spiritual Retreat. Show all posts

Saturday, July 4, 2026

Fireworks & Stars | "Only One Thing Is Needed" to Be Free



God took him outside and said,
“Look up at the sky
and count the stars
— if indeed you can count them.”

Is not God in the heights of heaven?
And see how lofty are the highest stars!

He determines the number of the stars
and calls them each by name.

Who is this that appears like the dawn,
fair as the moon, bright as the sun,
majestic as the stars in procession?

This is what the Lord says,
He who appoints the sun to shine by day,
who decrees the moon and stars
to shine by night
 ...

"
only one thing is needed." 

+ Genesis 15:5; Job 22:12;
Psalm 147:4; Song of Songs 6:10;
Jeremiah 31:35; Luke 10:42


As we look forward to the 4th of July holiday weekend, perhaps there is more than fireworks to marvel at. The God of the universe is an attentive God and the wonder-filled and whole-making Story He is writing for us is worthy of our quiet attention. 

This post features a few reflections from Chapter 5: Active Life: A Slower Pace in a Faster World in Leighton Ford's The Attentive Life.  

In a faster world
we could use a slower church 
– 
or at least churches that help us
to slow down and pay attention.

We live in an age of 
continuous partial attention. 
+ Linda Stone


Ruthlessly eliminate hurry. 
+ Dallas Willard to John Ortberg


Only one thing is needed. 
+ Jesus 
(see Luke 10:38-42) 

NASA "Celestial Fireworks" for 25th Anniversary

One Who Paid Attention:
Kierkegaard's Lanterns,
Fireworks and Stars

The Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard wrote two small parables that illuminate our human condition of speed and inattention.

Parable of Lanterns & Stars 
A certain rich man traveled in a finely appointed carriage, with lanterns on each corner of his vehicle to light the road around and ahead. He went his way in satisfaction and security, assured that his wealth provided him with a good life. One day along the road the rich man passed a poor peasant who had no carriage to carry him, no lamp to light his way. Yet while the rich man pitied the poor peasant who had no money to buy all the creature comforts, the poor peasant could see the stars, which the rich man himself missed because he was blinded by his lamps.

 

Parable of Fireworks & Stars 
Another Kierkegaard parable compared fireworks to the stars. Displays of fireworks hold our attention with increasing levels of dazzlement. They start at a modest pace, then become louder, with more and more rockets exploding in multiple directions, showering more brilliant colors, going ever higher into the night sky, until with one final burst of noise and brilliance and color it is all over. The creators of fireworks shows, said Kierkegaard, have to produce more and more artificial excitement to keep us entertained, but with the stars it is far different. We can, if we will, lie on our back on a hill gazing into the night sky, hour after hour, and always there is more to see in the unchanging canopy of the stars overhead, more almost magical attraction, more sensing the mystery of the stars whose message in light was sent to us from millions of years past, more drawing of our souls to consider the vastness of eternity and the meaning of time. 

 

Stars are like messengers
sent by the Creator
who also made us,
to lure us into pondering
the meaning of it all and
to consider the great end of our lives.
(Fireworks are like the diversions
we create to keep us
from facing the reality of our lives.)
We need to understand
the great sweep of the Story of God

and how our story with its small "s"
relates to God's Story
.

Calm & Stars by Yongsung Kim

Stars
Jonathan Foreman
2009 A.D.

Maybe I've been the problem,
maybe I'm the one to blame;
 but even when I turn it off
and blame myself,
the outcome feels the same.
I've been thinking
maybe I've been partly cloudy,
maybe I'm the chance of rain. And
maybe I'm overcast, and
maybe all my luck's
washed down the drain.
I've been thinking about everyone,
everyone, we look so lonely ... But

When I look at the stars,
when I look at the stars,
When I look at the stars,
I see Someone else.
When I look at the stars,
the stars,
I feel like myself.

Stars looking at our planet,
watching entropy and pain; and
maybe start to wonder how
the chaos in our lives
could pass as sane.
I've been thinking about
the meaning of resistance,
of a hope beyond my own, and
suddenly the infinite and penitent
begin to look like home.
I've been thinking about everyone,
everyone, we look so empty ...
(Chorus)

Jesuit Gerard Manley Hopkins termed the inscape of things – the deep reality of creation known only to attentive eyes and hearts in the landscapes around. In all of life there is:

The things that don't matter can be regarded with indifference and forgotten. The good things of life take priority. But the best and deepest are discovered only through attentive waiting. 
"Only one thing is needful."  
+ Jesus
May God give us grace to wait, be attentive, observe, and behold with our eyes, both our physical as well as with the eyes of our heart, what He as the King of the universe is doing in us, through us, and around us.


Links to other City Notes (CN):


Christ is all,

Rev. Mike “Sully” Sullivan



Thursday, June 12, 2025

Abbey Awe | Lauds of Room for Good Things to Run Wild


Room for Good Things to Run Wild

Holy Imaginations,
minds and hearts 
and souls and bodies saturated in
are the tools of transformation.

+ Room for Good Things

To close the month of May 2025, I had the joy of returning to the Abbey of the Genesee, one of my favorite thin spaces, for a special time with friends old and new at the Benedictine monastery, as we focused on the hours of prayer, infused with Psalms throughout.

On the evening that the Great Silence began for our group (24+ hours of silence together at the monastery), I had planned to keep my phone off for the entire duration. But since I was sharing my room with two other men who were already asleep in the still darkness when I made my way to bed, I turned on my phone for a flashlight and noticed I had a text. 

I could have ignored it, but I was wondering if something might have come up at home at this late hour that my wife or one of my kids needed to contact me (ex. our oldest daughter has just earned her driving license, so new adventures in parenting have been added to the mix), so I checked. These were the words I first read:

Hey, Sweetheart, if you get this
before you go to bed this evening,
would you call me or 
(our oldest daughter) back?

Acknowledging the places my mind could go, I noticed another text with these words featured in a snapshot of a conversation with my oldest daughter and one of her friends from childhood:

Friend: Hi, can you help me?

Daughter: What's up, love?

Friend: I really want to find God
and give myself to Him
but I have no clue where to start.

Daughter: You're serious?
(tearful and cry emojis)

Friend: Yes, ma'am.
I've been thinking about it a lot.

Daughter: I'd love to help.
Do you want to come over tomorrow?
What made you start thinking about it?

These words were then followed by:

Papa, can you call me back?

It was close to midnight then, and I sensed that God was inviting me to trust Him in how His Spirit was at work in my daughter and her friend while I was in solitude and silence for the next 20+ hours. 

And I trusted that in this space, the communion of saints would be stirred to pray for my daughter and her friend, too, in ways that are infused by the Spirit with groans beyond words.

Abbey of the Genesee Prayers at Night

So I prayed before I went to bed.
I prayed while I was in bed.
Awakened through the night,
I sought to join the whisper of God.

And then I woke 
and went to the sanctuary
to pray for my daughter
and her friend during Lauds
with the monks and others.

Lauds
come just before dawn …
It is the hour that takes us
from darkness into light —
awakening to life, to God.

And in that morning hour of prayer
God seemed to answer 
as the Holy Spirit used 
the exact Psalms from Scripture
for that specific Thursday morning 
sunrise hour of prayer to 
answer back through
the communal prayers of the saints
at Genesee and around the world.

+ Psalm 81:6-7
(as words God is speaking /
will speak to Zoey's friend,
a voice she's learning to recognize)

A voice I did not know said to me:

"I freed your shoulder
from the burden.
Your hands were freed 
from the load.
You called in distress and
I saved you."

+ Psalm 80:1, 3-4
(as words I and my family
were praying for this friend)

O Shepherd of Israel,
hear us ...
O LORD, rouse up Your might,
O LORD, come to our help.
God of hosts, bring us
(bring this friend and her family)
back; let Your face shine
on us (and them) and
we shall be saved.



The night before and that morning in bed, I had been thinking of and praying for Jesus to be the Good Shepherd to this young woman. And then I woke up to pray with the communion of saints at the monastery that morning in Psalm 80: "O Shepherd of Israel, hear us ... " 

And then shortly thereafter during the Terce hour of prayer:

Terce
is the marker of midmorning.
It was at this “third hour”
that the Spirit came
to the early Christian community,

the prayers, including those of the Abbott, were focused on Jesus being the Good Shepherd whose sheep hear His voice as He continues to gather more and more people to His fold. 

All this occurred while I was reading Josh Nadeau's book, Room for Good Things to Run Wild: How Ordinary People Become Every Day Saints, the title of which is based on G.K. Chesterton's quote:

The more I considered Christianity,
the more I found that 
while it had established a rule and order,
the chief aim of that order
was to give room for good things
to run wild.

After we broke the silence together that night to share about our experiences and receive the Eucharist together, I shared with the brothers I was with about who and what I had praying for throughout the night and day, and how they had unknowingly been participating with me in praying for this young women when they prayed during Lauds that morning.

Multiple men were moved to tears, and then multiple men prayed for this friend of my oldest daughter. And then I received a call.

I just wanted to share with you, Papa,
that my friend prayed to receive
the Holy Spirit after I shared with her
about Jesus through the Story of God.

A stirring and a stillness dropped into the waters of my soul then. And the ripples are still being felt. I will get to spend some time with my wife, my daughter, and her friend over a meal soon to hear more of the impact of this seeming moment when heaven drew near to earth and people were transformed by the mystery of the Master who resurrects new things to life. 

But for now, I leave you with these words I continue to meditate on:

Take a moment to listen,
to hear the Hidden Music,
and where Jesus might be leading you,
all the ways He wants to heal you 
and transform you,
all the ways He wants
to make His Kingdom known;
and then have the courage
to take a step. 
To follow.

It will be hard,
the hardest thing you ever do,
but it will be an adventure,
and it will be Good,
and it will lead you Home.

+ Josh Nadeau,
Room for Good Things
to Run Wild,
pg. 258

Bonus Post on Prayer:


More Abbey Awe Posts:  
+ Awakening to New Wonder in Vigils
+ Finding God in a Thin Place
+ God Moves Thru Unlikely Saints  
+ Facing Death w/ "Of Gods & Men" 
4th Century Church
Adapted by New Life,
2022 A.D.

How lovely all creation shines,
How glorious from sky to sea.
All beauty is a blazing sign
To God the Everlasting.

Glory to the Father,
Glory to the Son,
Glory to the Holy Spirit.
As it was in the beginning,
As it is right now,
And will be forever,
World without end.
Amen.

The glory of Almighty God,
The centerpiece of all that is.
The selflessness of triune love,
Demands our highest worship.
(Chorus)

Amen, amen, amen,
World without end,
Amen.

When we behold the radiant Son,
The shadowlands will fade away.
At last the One who is to come
Will rule the new creation.
He’ll rule the new creation.
(Chorus)

With presence and peace in Christ,

Rev. Mike “Sully” Sullivan

Email Pastor Mike | Website | Visit Us | Support Us | Facebook Us

Saturday, April 5, 2025

Lent | In The Face of the Deep, The Holy Spirit's Work is Wild


The Holy Spirit by Cal Ogelsby, 2014 A.D.

The Spirit's work
in the life of His people
is often a wild work,
a desert work.

He knows and loves the places
that seem empty to us
as much as
He knows and loves the places
that teem with life.

He calls us to the wilderness
to work in us in ways
that could not be done well
(perhaps not done at all)
were we not drawn away ... 

+ Paul Pastor
The Face of the Deep


I continue to return to The Face of the Deep by Paul J. Pastor to reflect and meditate on the Holy Spirit who welcomes us into the holy wild. This book has not only been a great companion when I first read it during a silent retreat at the Abbey of the Genesee, but also a needed re-read during Lent.

This post will include favorite pull quotes from the chapter entitled:

 "The Wind of the Wilderness: 
The Spirit of the Desert." 




The Wind of the Wilderness
The Spirit of the Desert

Let all teachers hold their peace;
let all creatures be silent in Thy sight;
speak unto me Thou alone.


+ Thomas a Kempis
The Imitation of Christ
pg. 165


Be Led to Sacred Silence
in a Place Apart
When I have hiked into the true wilderness, it is the depth and quality of the silence that enters my soul and leaves me changed. When I meet people – and there are many – who say that their most profound encounters with God are in nature, it is this sense of quiet they usually want to remember. It is the sacred silence of a space, silent not because of the absence of sound, but silent because of the effect it has on the soul. A holy silence of the interior, prompted by a sacred simplicity on the exterior. A reminder that the true silence of the Holy Spirit is presence as much as it is absence. It is entering a place apart. … I began to know the rough roar of silence as the voice of the Spirit. He was leading me, mysteriously, to a place apart. + pg. 167, 169

The Spirit Whistles
in the Wilderness Wind

If the Bible were a movie and if places were characters, "the wilderness" would hold a starring role. It's a recurring setting, all the way after the expulsion of humanity from the garden in Genesis, to the "wander in tears, forty years" of Israel's desert time, to the visions of Ezekiel, to the famous temptations of Christ, and Jesus's well-known habit of wandering into desert places for prayer. The wilderness is a place of contradictions, a place portrayed in Scripture as an empty place yet full. The wilderness is cruel and bare, yet a setting for kindness and miraculous provision. The wilderness reveals things often by obscuring them. The wilderness welcomes God and the people of God by
 – sometimes concretely, sometimes abstractly – meeting evil. More than anything, the wilderness is the background that most clearly highlights the high, good strangeness of the Holy Spirit, who, so often in Scripture, whistles like a wind among the rocks of the desert. A cloud by day, a fire by night. Faithfully leading. Faithfully obscuring. 


The Wild, Affirming,
Driving Desert Work
The Spirit's work in the life of His people is often a wild work, a desert work. He knows and loves the places that seem empty to us as much as He knows and loves the places that teem with life. He calls us to the wilderness to work in us in ways that could not be done well (perhaps not done at all) were we not drawn away, brought away, thrown away, finding ourselves on a lonely trail. This was Jesus' experience. Directly after the soaring high of His baptism in the Jordan, the joy and affirmation of the Father speaking His belovedness over Him, the Dove of heaven seemed to distend and whip apart into a lionlike whirlwind, launching Christ into the first great trial of his adult life. In Mark's account, he writes: " ... And the Spirit drove Him into the wilderness. ... " The Greek word translated here as "drove out" is a rough one, from which we get our word ball, and as you would expect, it means to throw, fling, send flying, hurl. It is not gentle. Like a Major League Baseball pitcher sending a fastball straight through the strike zone, the Spirit in Mark's Gospel downright hurls Jesus (the Beloved, remember) into the wilderness. + pg. 171 

Danger, Scarcity, Abundance ...
All a Work of Love

The Spirit is not playing around. Nor is Jesus
 – who, in the more detailed accounts of this story elsewhere, is fasting, hungry and thirsty during this time in the desert. He is besieged with temptations in the wilderness – the temptation to work miracles on His own behalf rather than the Father's; the temptation for immediate acclamation and acceptance by the people who would eventually reject Him, screaming for his crucifixion; and the temptation for an easy path to world power rather than the death-road, the God-road to the eternal Kingdom promised to the seed of David. All His suffering and all His overcoming are kept between the lines in Mark's Gospel. I like that. All that we are given here to make sense of Christ in the wilderness is the duration (the ancient "forty" of Noah's flood, of Moses on the mountain, of the wandering years of Israel in the desert), the Devil, the beasts, and the angels. A long time. Danger scarcity, abundance. The wilderness. And this, like every work of the Holy Spirit, was love. + pg. 171 


Silence with Jesus
is a Very Good Place to Start
I sat with my spiritual director, Father Stephen. He asked me to describe my relationship with Jesus. I was silent for a minute, fumbling around inside my head until I came across the right words. "It's as if," I began, "Jesus and I are sitting together in a dark room. He's not saying anything. I'm not saying anything. I look at Him. He looks back at me. We're together. But silent. Quiet. Like we're each waiting for something. He was quiet for a while himself. I sat, adjusted my chair. I wondered if I should continue to talk, to fill up the room between us with words. I didn't like the silence. I wanted to speak or for him to speak or for Jesus to speak. Anyone, really. He breathed deeply. "Silent?" he asked. "Silent." "Well, that's a very good place to start." + pg. 172

Can't Understand
Without Slowing Down

In her classic Walking on Water, Madeleine L'Engle wrote: When I am constantly running there is no time for being. When there is no time for being there is no time for listening. I will never understand the silent dying of the green pie-apple tree if I do not slow down and listen to what the Spirit is telling me, telling me of the death of trees, the death of planets, of people, and what all these deaths mean in the light of the love of the Creator who brought them all into being; who brought me into being; and you. It's a beautiful truth, but a wilderness truth, a desert truth. A truth of windy silences
 – to somehow believe that to understand ourselves, to understand the great breath of creation, we must first walk backward, back along the trail, back through the deaths of things large and small, slowing life and heart and mind, all the while listening for the voice of God, all back, back, back, to the edge of the deep, to the starting place of being. That hazy place where the Spirit summons us up from the waters of beginning and whistles love and joy, creating and sustaining. "It's good that you are; how wonderful that you exist!" We must know the Spirit's desert road, the trail away from the roars of man and nature. ... It is time for the wilderness. Somehow, with the Spirit, we must learn to enter a place apart. For all its difficulty, it is a very good place to start. + pgs. 172-173 


The Spirit Tears Us Up
with Blessings ...
This Too Is Love,
If We Can Accept It
The sacred silence of our interior becomes the void, the good and empty place into which the Spirit can speak. ... He leads us into desert places ... He pounces, tumbles us in the sand and grit either roughly or gently. Away from the noise He carries or flings us, from the dullness of full belly and full brain. ... He tears us with blessings, tears us open sometimes till the red blood flows out so thick and abundant that we fear our life is leaving, that our bones will be left behind us when we wander on. And for all this, He makes no promises other than His love. If we can believe it, even the bitterest wrestling with the Spirit out in the desert is for our good, the good of His beloved. We must sometimes suffer wounds before we can be bound again, better made and wiser than before, bearing the scars of wilderness as witnesses to the nearness of God. This too is love, if we can accept it. + pg. 174 

It Is the Wind of the Spirit
That Seeks to Polish Us
with the Sand of the Wilderness

It is the wind of the wilderness, dry and cutting if necessary, that blows our own thoughts out of us and the Spirit's knowing into us. It is that wind that will eventually allow us to see though our eyes be closed and hear though our ears be deafened. It is the Holy Spirit, the wind of the wilderness, that flings us into the desert like rag dolls, cradles us out there like children, feeds us like the ravens above Elijah's creek. It is the wind that seeks to polish us with sand, to let the erosion of the grit reveal our truest contours. To see what we take with us out of nothing. What we leave with the nothing. But for all this, who wishes for the wilderness? For some it has a romance before and after we are there and its own glass-like beauty that shimmers when we're in it, but for any beauty we may find, we still quail and quiver. The wilderness is where the Spirit takes our masks away, where our own hearts are flayed, where the faces of devils and angels, once obscured by rocks and birds and lust and thirst, stare at us, challenging us to blink before they do. + pgs. 174-175


If We Can Not Say
Thank You to the Desert Yet,
Then It Is Likely
We Are Still in It
What are we to make of a Spirit – the Spirit of the same Jesus who knew the pain of wilderness so well – who not only accompanies us into the desert but throws us into it? If it is true that He is the wind at our back, blowing us into places abandoned by men, places hard to live in and dry, places of thorn and curse and cruelty, places of the sun by day and the catamount or wild dogs by night, then what are we to say to Him for such treatment? "Thank you"? I mean no presumption, and I speak this in faith. If we cannot say thank you for the desert yet, then it is likely because we are still in it. The wind of the wilderness, ever seeking your good, does not expect your gratitude when you have not eaten for forty days. "What are you doing here?" The ancient question hangs, as it did for Elijah, over the mountain, over the hot bedrock of the desert. But we might as well ask it of the Asker. And who knows if we will receive an answer that human ears can understand? He only promises love. No answers. Not ease. Only love. + pg. 176

A Favorite Story of Abundance

There is something that awakens inside the soul when one realizes that in God's view of the world there is no such thing as scarcity. Let me tell you one of my favorite stories of abundance. I will try to tell it as it was told to me by my friend Randy, a Keetowah Cherokee: In the 1950s, Canada's government was consolidating rule in the Arctic by forcing the native Inuit peoples onto settlement reservations. One old man, a grandfather, resisted. He did not want to live in the white people's houses. He did not want to eat their food. He did not want to lose his culture. His family, concerned that he might do something rash in his yearning for the old freedom, took away his weapons, his tools, his precious knife – all that he needed to live off the land in the frozen, blustery tundra. Or at least they thought they took everything away. They could not take away his knowledge, his way of seeing things. And his way of seeing was the most important thing he had. One dark night, as the wind shrieked around his place, the grandfather stepped out into the blizzard. He was empty-handed, but only for a moment. He defecated into his hand, molding his own "waste" into a keen blade as it froze, spitting on it, wetting and sharpening the bloodletting side with saliva. It froze solid and sharp. He took the knife and killed a dying dog, skinning it to make coat and harness. He used its rib cage for a sled, its flesh for food. He hitched up a healthy dog, and with a flourish of his blade, the grandfather disappeared into the white desert. ... The grandfather was strong in the old ways of seeing things – that is to say, seeing the world, for all its dangers, as a place (in its own desolate way) of abundance. + pgs. 177-178


Even the Desert Places
Whisper Back the "Very Good"
of Their Maker
For all appearances to the contrary, there is no such thing as scarcity where the Spirit is concerned, even in the wilderness, even after the forty-day fast. The bare clarity of the desert may corner us, reduce us, winnow us, take us next door to death, even, but if the process is allowed to work, we will see, gradually or all of a sudden, that we have never been alone, that there has never been utter silence, that tools and food and fire and comfort and meaning and the kindness of God can be everywhere, even here, for those who can see things as the Spirit sees them. ... Abundance can look like barely enough sometimes, sometimes like scarcity itself – five loaves and two fish before a hungering multitude. ... After all, in spite of the hunger and thirst, who, among all those whom God led into the wilderness, starved there? Who died of thirst? For the wind of the wilderness, there is no such thing as scarcity, no such thing as emptiness. In spite of any curse and harshness, even the desert places whisper back the "very good" of their Maker, who rustles the sage and dances among the rattlesnakes. + pgs. 178-179

The Difference is Seeing

The difference of the desert is the difference of the seeing. If we think the Spirit is cruel to blow us into the windy and desolate places, then we have not yet understood this. We need such barrenness much more than we think. ... The wind of the wilderness blows where it wishes. The Spirit's presence can be as arid and contradictory as the desert
 – but always in the service of love. + pg. 179


The Wilderness is Empty of Words
It Is Full of Meaning
At some point, every person's path leads into the wilderness. Into the desert, to be quiet for a time, or perhaps to rage and to curse God where only ravens and silent angels can hear. Sometimes we wander there; sometimes we walk with purpose. We look for the path. Sometimes it is clear. At other times the sands cover even our own footprints. Sometimes it is a place emptier than empty; sometimes we glimpse a silhouette under the cleft of a rock or a cloaked figure moving parallel to us down a far ravine. The wilderness is empty of words; it is full of meaning. It is silent yet howls until the head pounds. Sometimes it is an experience of such profound suffering that others wonder how you make it. Sometimes it is so simple and personal that others wonder why you don't just "get over it." In any case, being thrown into the wilderness is an act of love. There are no promises whether you will live or die. But even there, in the deepest desert, the Spirit can lead you to wells of living water. + pg. 180

The Desert, Like All Places, 
Is the Dwelling of the Holy Spirit

Though He may cast you there, He will fling Himself alongside you, rough as sackcloth, gray as ashes, and good. He does that so that in the emptiness, like so many before us (like Jesus Himself), we might find fullness; in the absence, presence; in the scarcity, abundance; in fasting, a feast spread in the presence of our enemies. In the roar of the wind in both ears, the joyous shriek of the Dove of creation, that ghostly white wind of the wilderness, you might hear Him asking the ancient question: What are you doing here? He knows your answer already, but it is no matter: you have been kindly hunted, brought or carried or thrown here because it is you who must answer Him. 

+ pgs. 180-181

Christ is all,

Rev. Mike "Sully" Sullivan

Friday, May 31, 2024

Abbey Awe | Blessed with Joy and Presence in Terce Psalms


Joy on the Soapstone Trail Near St. Mary's Monastery & St. Scholastica Priory

Cultivating joy
is an act of resistance
to any person, event, or system
that would have us believe
that death has the final word on our lives.

+ Willie James Jennings,

To close the month of May 2024, I had the honor to help host another St. Mary's Monastery & St. Scholastica's Priory retreat with people from Congregational, Baptistic, Pentecostal, Presbyterian, and Anglican backgrounds, for a special time at the monastery, even getting to see Br. Isidore again, as we focused on the Benedictine rhythms of prayer, infused with Psalms throughout.

Before we arrived, everyone was invited to read, meditate on, and memorize Psalm 63:1-5 to prepare for this sacred time together: 

Psalm 63

1 God, You are my God,
earnestly I seek You;
I thirst for You,
my whole being longs for You,
in a dry and parched land
where there is no water:

2 I have seen You in the sanctuary
and beheld Your power and Your glory.
3 Because Your love is better than life,
my lips will praise You.


4 I will praise You as long as I live,
and in Your name I will lift up my hands.

5 I will be fully satisfied
as with the richest of foods;
with singing lips my mouth will praise You.
 
St. Mary's Monastery and St. Scholastica Priory Sanctuary in Petersham, MA

 On previous retreats, the practices of reading and praying the Psalms, especially connected to compline and prayer in the night with the monasteries, have proven life-giving for me. But this time, it was the mid-morning prayer hour of terce immediately after the mass that blessed me the most. Below is some brief background related to the different prayer hours during the morning provided in Leighton Ford's The Attentive Life: Discerning God's Presence in All Things:

The “morning” journey(s) are
when our day starts and
where our life begins
with all its potential and challenges.

The “time before our own time”
— Vigils —
is the time for us to address
our Creator with thanks and openness.

Lauds
come just before dawn …
It is the hour that takes us
from darkness into light —
awakening to life, to God.

Terce
is the marker of midmorning.
It was at this “third hour”
on the day of Pentecost
that the Spirit came
to the early Christian community,
as the enabling Power of their witness.

In the monastery
Terce
is time to take a break from busy work,
time to receive a midmorning blessing
with a focus on the Spirit
and the aliveness of His presence.

Before I arrived at St. Mary's Monastery, a theme I thought God wanted me to focus on was joy in His presence and cultivating joy as an act of resistance throughout this year. And so when I lingered after the mass at 9:30 a.m. the first morning we were there, returning to the faint aroma of incense in the simple, yet beautiful sanctuary, I could only smile when these were the verses from the Psalms I was invited to meditate on in both Latin and English with the monks and the nuns serenading the day:

Psalms 8

1 LORD, our Lord,
how majestic is Your name
in all the earth!
You have set Your glory
in the heavens.


2 Through the praise of
children and infants
You have established
a stronghold against Your enemies,
to silence the foe and the avenger.

3 When I consider Your heavens,
the work of Your fingers,
the moon and the stars,
which You have set in place,
4 what is mankind
that You are mindful of them,
human beings that You care for them?

5 You have made them
a little lower than the angels
and crowned them with glory and honor.

6 You made them rulers
over the works of Your hands;
You put everything under their feet:
7 all flocks and herds,
and the animals of the wild,
8 the birds in the sky,
and the fish in the sea,
all that swim the paths of the seas.

9 LORD, our Lord,
how majestic is Your name
in all the earth!


Soapstone Trail near St. Mary's Monastery & St. Scholastica's Priory in Petersham, MA

The joy in Psalm 8 is not only present in its ancient and fresh praises throughout, but it also stirred in me the right response to the gorgeous view we got to see as a community of retreatants together after a steep hike later that day.

And the joy in the moment of Terce that also brought a smile to my face was personal because less than 24 hours earlier I was discussing this exact Psalm with my oldest daughter as we considered some of the psalms her and her boyfriend had been reading (1-11 as of last week). We watched the Bible Project video on Psalm 8 and enjoyed a quiet break after school together in the month of May-hem.

The next morning of Terce, I was awakened to joy again during a cool, calming, and serene rainfall with this Psalm:

Psalms 16

1 Preserve me, God,
I take refuge in You.

2 I say to the LORD: 
"You are my God.
My happiness lies
in 
You alone."

3 He has put into my heart
a marvelous love
for the faithful ones 
who dwell in His land.

4 Those who choose other gods
increase their sorrows.
Never will I offer 
their offerings of blood.
Never will I take their name
upon my lips.

5 O LORD, it is You
who are my portion and cup;
it is You Yourself
who are my prize.

6 The lot marked out for me
is my delight:
welcome indeed the heritage
that falls to me!

7 I will bless the LORD
who gives me counsel,
who even at night directs my heart.

8 I keep the LORD ever in my sight:
since He is at my right hand,
I shall stand firm.

9 And so my heart rejoices,
my soul is glad;
even my body shall rest in safety.

10 For you will not leave 
my soul among the dead,
nor let Your beloved know decay.

11 You will show me the path of life,
the fullness of joy in Your presence,
at Your right hand happiness forever.


Multiple people on the retreat mentioned how Psalm 16 had been special for them, too, during this hour of Terce. This time was not only good for my spirit with the Spirit, but good for many others during this hour when the Spirit came down at Pentecost. And while verse 11 had been one I have returned to again and again, I'm now looking forward to returning to the entire Psalm during 2024 to ask the Spirit to move in this way among my family and among Emmaus City Church so that we all can sing as part of Christ's body in Worcester:

8 I keep the LORD ever in my sight:
since He is at my right hand,
I shall stand firm.

9 And so my heart rejoices,
my soul is glad;
even my body shall rest in safety. ...

11 You will show me the path of life,
the fullness of joy in Your presence,
at Your right hand happiness forever.


St. Mary's Retreat Reflections:

The guest house was great
and the chapel so beautiful and welcoming.
The diverse people reflected the Body of Christ
and through the readings, sharing,
praying, eating, and singing
—
the Spirit quickly knit us together.
+ Brian M.

It really helped me return
to a grounding perspective
during a particularly busy season ...
When life gets worked up into a frenzy,
it was a great gift of God
to come back to a space
where I can remember that
things won't fall apart without me.

+ Kate K.

I want to do this again because
my soul often needs
this type of refreshment.

Many other “retreats”
offer a time away
but don’t refresh the soul. But
this retreat at St. Mary’s
was a huge refreshment.

+ Nate B.


The best way I can describe it
is like an oasis in a journey
across a desert land.

The pace of life as a parent,
ministry leader, and community activist
can feel overwhelming at times,
and the avalanche of the daily grind is real.
This retreat provides a respite
for a weary soul
or an opportunity to be more attentive
to God's omnipresence and the love of Jesus.
+ Ron W.

Go into it expecting rest
but getting so much more.

+ Marty H.

It was so refreshing and restful
for my body, mind, and soul!
It reoriented me to a place
of centeredness with God

and enabled me to feel renewed
in my calling and empowered to go back
to the fullness of life
with a sense of calm, focus, and joy.
I really appreciated the good mix
of solitude and fellowship
and the ways other participants' journeys
were an encouragement to mine.
+ Katie W.

I liked the whole thing.
+ Aaron K.

Bonus Video:



With presence and peace in Christ,

Rev. Mike “Sully” Sullivan

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