Living by the rule

Guesthouse atHoly Cross Abbey
Berryville, VA

In April, I took some time for a silent retreat at the Holy Cross Abbey, a Trappist monastery in Berryville, Virginia… 1400+ acres of rich farmland located on the west bank of the Shenandoah River. I think John Denver was correct in his lyric: “…almost heaven, West Virginia.” They got the “almost,” because we’ve received the real thing — the eastern Blue Ridge mountains in spring must surely be the foothills of Heaven itself.

In the summer of 2012, an important question arose  within the first three months of me moving into the residential community here at Richmond Hill: “Where does one go on retreat when one lives at a retreat center?” I’d encountered a similar Zen-like koan many years ago as I was leaving VCU to find a break into the advertising business: “We don’t hire students. Come see us when you’ve got some experience.” Good thing I love a good puzzle.

Initially, I was simply too busy learning and living into life in the community to slow down and take a retreat. So much to do, and all of it Kingdom work. Wow! What’s not to like? And, it was all good, until I found myself getting testy with my colleagues in community. When I was rude to some guests about making coffee, I knew it was time to pull back. That’s the definition of retreat, right?

Seven years ago, my spiritual director posed a question about my Rule of life. As I had no idea what he was talking about, he recommended I do some work around that. Well, I love a good project. So, I wrote, and then re-wrote, my rule. And item no. 4 of my Rule said: “Go on retreat (3x/year). Walk the labyrinth quarterly.” Since the Jerusalem Mile is just outside my back door, I’ve made many a good turn on the labyrinth. But I regularly ignored taking a retreat. For all the usual excuses: too busy, too expensive, too tired…plus, I didn’t know where to go…

When it came to obeying the Rule, I was being, well, unruly. The Rule, as I am finding out, is a lot like the Sabbath. That is, it is not something we feel we have to do. Rather, it should be something we want to do — because it gives us back our lives. It restores us, not restricts us. My reluctance to go on retreat was not so much out of ignorance. Rather, it was more out of fear — fear of being caught by God in the silence, far away from all my familiar distractions, with nowhere to hide. And He caught me. Thanks be to God!