Time in the tomb

Gill Pennington recently experienced an eight-day silent retreat

It was with curiosity, anticipation and some trepidation that I mounted the steps to the main entrance of St Beuno’s in North Wales. I am a Quaker and I was going on an eight-day silent retreat, in a Catholic (Jesuit) retreat house, to follow some of the spiritual practices of Ignatius of Loyola. Hmm…

This was a big stretch for me. I have no experience of Catholicism and, as an extrovert, eight days of silence would be a challenge. On the first evening I wrote in the journal I decided to keep for the week: ‘What do I want from this week? Space, time, depth of connection, rest, time to just be – connected to all that is God, and to find the silent depths of “the flowing vastness of presence”.’

Holding the space

Just before Easter, I had been ‘holding the space’ for forty Quakers currently taking part in the Equipping for Ministry (EfM) programme, and who were at Woodbrooke, the Quaker study centre in Birmingham,  for their residential week. In going on retreat I wanted to have time and space to open myself more fully to all that God is for me and consider my ongoing and future ministry – in a similar way to those on EfM, who, during the two-year programme, have the opportunity to explore their own spiritual path and consider their future ministry in the Quaker and wider community.

After an initial introduction on the first evening, I spent eight whole days in silence, apart from a four to five minute conversation with my spiritual guide each morning. It was wonderful! No small talk about the weather, which was gorgeous, just a smile and a nod when passing someone.

What did I gain from this extended period of silence and stillness? So much! I am still processing my experience and every time I go back to my journal I discover something new. I am so pleased that I kept one. Immediately, I am drawn to the idea of prophetic voice and how that speaks to my ministry. It is a sense of conviction of being in the right place, at the right time, doing the right thing that gives me confidence to quote something Martin Luther supposedly said: ‘Here I stand, I can do no other.’

My overall impression of the week is one of profound thankfulness for time I spent in the tomb. I was drawn to this time after the crucifixion, when Jesus was taken down from the cross and placed in a stone tomb, which was then secured by a large stone rolled across the front. Imagining Jesus resting, restoring and rejuvenating himself before appearing again resonated strongly for me. I discovered new truths, from scripture, from the dance (‘5Rhythms’, which is a dynamic movement practice –  a practice of being in your body – that ignites creativity, connection and community), and from the daily mass. For me, this was a time of integration – of recognising my wisdom and womanhood in God.

In the rhythm of flowing, I walked alongside three Marys – women who were important to Jesus – considering them as mother, mistress and Madonna, and learnt much from each of them. I was being held safely in a sacred cocoon whilst I underwent great depth of experience. I revelled in the prolonged silence and felt a profound joy at being with God in the beauty of creation. The panoramic view out across Wales towards the mountains of Snowdonia filled me with awe and wonder.

Walking the labyrinth

I realised that the good place I am in – mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually – is a gift. On this occasion there were no deep hurts to grapple with, although walking the labyrinth enabled me to grieve for Sam, my beautiful border terrier, and my tears flowed at last.

As I integrated my learning through the week, I discovered an unfolding joy which filled me with light and energy and creativity. Towards the end, I began to emerge from the tomb, noticing the sunlight streaming around the edges of the stone as it was rolled away.

I connected with friends of God who were on the margins; those in love with Christ and who were prophetic voices across the ages, standing up for those, who, as Robert Lentz and Edwina Gateley put it in their book Christ in the Margins, ‘are marginalised, pushed aside, dismissed, left out, undermined, underfed, unhoused or simply unseen and unheard’.

I spent time with a painting of Joan of Arc by Eugene Thirion, considering her prophetic voice and what resonance it might have for me.

I explored a little of the mystery of the crucifix and sensed the profound desolation of Christ on the cross when he felt separated from his Father: ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ Thinking about his cry ‘It is finished!’, which to me is a shout of triumph, I began to gain an understanding of consolation and desolation, recognising that even in desolation we have not turned away from God.

We can examine our mood in either state and find, in the words of Ignatius of Loyola as quoted by Gerard Hughes in his book God of Surprises: ‘Creative moods are to be distinguished from destructive by their effect. If the mood is leading to an increase of faith, hope and charity then it is creative; if it is leading to a decrease of faith, hope and charity then it is destructive.’

The Mass

I joined with others in the Mass, partaking of the Eucharist – ‘the efficacious sign and the divine cause of that communion in the divine life and that unity of the people of God by which the church is kept in being,’ as the Catechism of the Catholic Church describes it.

I had to examine myself closely to find my own acceptance of this sacrament of bread and wine before I could enter into the Mass with integrity and reverence. As a Quaker, taking part in a sacramental act needed careful discernment, but for this time and in this place it felt right, and it brought me closer to Jesus.

Laughter was an important part of the week – to stop it all getting too serious, as my spiritual guide told me. I found laughter in simple things; the best time was when leaning into the strong wind, arms akimbo, on top of a hill with a 360-degree panoramic view, laughing at my good fortune in being alive and feeling that I was flying free.

At the end of each day before sleeping I did a short review of my day (based on the Ignatius Examen) in which I prayerfully considered the following words:

Yes I’m here
Fully present in this moment, at this time.

You’re here
With me, right now.

Thank you
Give thanks for all the good things that have been happening today.

Sorry
Is there anything you wish you hadn’t done today?

What?
What has been happening during this time? What might you like to do next?

Please
Is there anything you would like to ask for?

Laughter
It’s really important to laugh to stop it all getting too serious!

Amen
So be it.

Perhaps this is something that many of us could use as a way of connecting with God each day. And maybe we can each consider how we can best explore our faith in a meaningful way beyond our normal lives. Going outside my comfort zone certainly extended me, grounded me and filled me with joy. I have come back to Woodbrooke rested, rejuvenated and restored; ready and able to continue and expand my ministry to others.

---

Comments

Please login to add a comment