Shelter in place
Originally published at Examorata. Please leave any comments there.
The last time I went on retreat at Holy Cross Abbey in Berryville, VA, it was the tenth anniversary of 9/11. This time, the day after I returned from my retreat two bombs were detonated at the finish line of the Boston Marathon.
It’s inauspicious, but in a strange way the retreat prepared me for both situations. In 2011, I was concerned about there being too much heaped on the anniversary, too much poking of wounds, too much use of the ghost of the attacks as a reason to stir up jingoistic sentiments that make me deeply uncomfortable. Instead of focusing on what the world wanted me to focus on, that anniversary day, I could focus on what I wanted to focus on. That was forgiveness.
On Monday the 15th, when the attack happened in Boston, once again I found that my retreat experience allowed me to remain calm and responsive in what I felt was a more productive way. Sympathy, sadness, yes - but I looked away from links labeled “WARNING GRISLY PHOTOS” and was able to take a deep breath in the face of the stare-at-the-car-wreck mentality that often takes over. My main window to the events that Monday was the internet, and the internet is very, very good at the car wreck mentality.
It is also very good at communication, and humanizing, and opening doors, if you let it. It was important to me to keep a measured, calm perspective on the events. Not to diminish them or their seriousness, rather to diminish my own sense of helplessness.
At the monastery they now offer green burial. I spent a lot of time walking around the grounds, picking my way down to the banks of the Shenandoah and thinking that if my life, whenever it ends, could be lifted away on a breeze in a place that beautiful, then that would be all right. We all go. None of us get to stay. It is a terrible shame when anyone does not get what we consider a full measure of life; to have the measure of our life shortened by the hatred of another is absolutely one of the worst sins and horrors that any human can commit. But there is still beauty in life, absolutely everywhere. In people extending hands of help and healing in a time of crisis. In flowers growing in a still wood. It is harder to see in dirty tears on frightened faces, but somewhere, it is there. I didn’t know anyone personally affected by what happened in Boston. But it is a comfort that it affected so many, because it affected our common human bond. The worst part of cowardly acts such as planting a bomb and walking away is the utter disregard it shows for the common family of humanity.
Maybe my retreat weekends are a good spiritual shelter-in-place. Not to keep out anything that may harm but to reinforce the strength we all can draw on from inside. When I came back, I felt rested and renewed and ready to deal with those most human bonds.
Even the winding drive lowers your blood pressure.