SPEAK AND BE HEARD
Grown men, schoolboys and priests all have much to learn from the retreat experience.
I can recall sitting in my classroom many years ago having just completed teaching for the week. In Perth, during February, the Australian summers are hot and trying. That year, the ceiling fans struggled to cycle the oppressive air. The boys had left and I leaned back in my chair, put my feet on the desk, my hands behind my head and let out a sigh that blended exhaustion and achievement with relief.
The hustle and bustle of the boys racing home to begin the weekend was the soundtrack to the beautiful view I had of the Canning River that frames the school on two sides. One of my pupils, a young man in his final year, looked up at me as he walked down the hill to the shore, smiled and waved. He unhitched his aluminium boat, and started his outboard motor to make his way home across the wide river. There were half a dozen boys in that year who came to school the same way. Peter, the name I will give this young man, had in his boat a fishing rod; a little way offshore, he stopped his motor, sat back in his boat and began to fish. That to me was the life: to be a boy again and have Peter’s life would be something indeed – my daily routine as a boy had been the smell of a congested diesel bus. Most days Peter would follow the same routine. What a lucky boy. It was my first year as the spiritual director of Aquinas College, and I soon came to know that a doctorate in mystical theology sounds impressive, and certainly can be useful in this role, but is nowhere near the most integral part of a complex series of skills required of any individual willing to run a successful retreat programme for boys.
The time came soon for choosing Year 12 (18-year-old) leaders for the Encounter Retreat programme, a three-day residential rites-of-passage retreat comprising Year 11 students, who are led by members of the graduating class. Peter volunteered, and I happily selected him. Off Peter went to be guided by my assistant spiritual director, Br Brian Clery cfc, a very wise and immensely experienced retreat master, who in our now 13 years of working closely with one another has taught me more about practical spirituality, and the education of boys, than any textbook or any university course ever did. Thirty years separate the two of us, but if one listens closely, and is willing to learn, the wisdom that can be imparted to improve one’s own spiritual direction (and self) is vast. Br Clery spent many hours helping Peter with the lecture that he was going to deliver at the retreat. Peter’s directive was to open the retreat by explaining to the boys where his life was at the moment, and some of the joys and sufferings of his life thus far.
As I have come to understand, the first speaker so often sets the tone for the rest of the Encounter Retreat, for by being open and honest, they can give younger students the courage to do the same. So the time came. In a hall, in a semi-rural location, the excited chat of 50 adolescent boys was brought to a close as Peter took his place at the lectern. He looked towards me, beamed a smile that expressed the effervescent nature of his good soul, looked at the audience in front of him, and said: “Hello, my name is Peter, and this year I have had to save my father’s life three times.” We were all gobsmacked as Peter, the young man who seemed to have no care in the world, aside from the size of the fish he sought to catch and how he was to cook it, proceeded thereafter to explain a painfully tragic home situation. It was gut-wrenching. Thus the first series of lessons that I learned about directing retreats: first, be prepared to learn more from those you are leading than they might from you. Second, the task of the retreat leader is to facilitate, rather than dominate. Third, the greatest heroes you meet in life are not to be found in encyclopedias, but in the faces of those you sit beside each day. Fourth, as retreat leader, you must do everything possible as you prepare the retreat to come to understand those for whom you are preparing it. Fifth, never presume that you know too much about your subject matter, nor about life. Be prepared to be surprised, and always to learn, from others and from mistakes.
That retreat experience was my first at the college, and since then I have continued to learn and delivered more than 250 retreats to boys aged 12 to 18, as well as to fathers and their sons. Experiences such as Peter’s, although not precisely replicated, are matched frequently in the depth of tragedy that many young people today face. Schoolteachers are now at the forefront of the pastoral face of the Church, where the clergy once stood. The reticence of many youths towards regular Mass attendance, and a disengagement with the sacraments and the clergy, has meant that the teacher in a Catholic school is aware in an only too real way of the joys and sufferings of their students. The retreat programme brings these experiences and emotions out.
The particular retreat experience that the Encounter Retreat offers is cathartic, not only for the students who participate, but for the staff involved. When sitting in small groups and sharing details of one’s life journey, others are empowered to do the same. The tough, sunburned faces of young Australian men are soon covered with tears, as their mouths tell the tales of absent fathers and stresses related to family break-up, illness, incident and accident. I can recall one of the toughest young men I ever met, delivering the opening address, in which he spoke about the recent death of his grandfather, the patriarch of a family of Australia beef-cattle farmers, who lived out in some of the harshest countryside. He gripped the podium and his knuckles were white, as he struggled to tell of his sitting beside his grandfather’s deathbed as he passed away. No one had ever seen this young man in any other light than an Achilles, minus the vulnerable heel. The podium shook as his voice broke. I walked up to him, and told him that it was not necessary for him to continue. He looked at me with tears in his eyes, and in a broken voice said: “I will be all right, sir.” He continued, and gave one of the greatest speeches I have ever heard delivered by anyone. No one applauded. What they had heard was too profound for applause.
On another occasion during the Encounter Retreat programme where we collect and collate 10 letters from each participant’s family and friends (without the participant knowing), I received a phone call from a grandfather in New Zealand. He had received a copy of my instructions inviting people to write letters. He was eager to write, but needed more time. I told him to take a few extra days, and to fax his letter to me. Four pages of a fax arrived, and I folded these pages and placed them in an envelope to give to his grandson on day two of the retreat. The retreat was a few weeks away. In between the day I received the fax and the retreat, the grandfather passed away. The boy flew to the funeral in New Zealand. A week later, during the retreat, the young man in question opened the letter in the silence in which all the participants are asked to read, and was told from the grave how much he was loved by his grandfather. This day-two experience is a highlight for many boys; and I have found it curious that the hardest of men are reduced to tears the quickest. No one is laughed at by their peers, for we encourage the young men to understand that they are males by gender, and men by choice; and by that we mean that to be a man one must have a sensitivity of heart, and deep concern for others. It is a painstaking task to collect and collate such a vast volume of letters, but the rewards are immense. Every family is sent a letter and a reminder, and if there are issues with mail not coming in on schedule, phone calls are made: local, national and international, if need be. Rarely do I struggle to gain for each student a fair-sized number of letters. In our programmes, we offer the Sacraments of the Eucharist and Reconciliation. It would seem that those priests who serve Christ in our programme also have profound experiences. Often when I go into the rooms that are used for Reconcilation, I find priests’ faces wet with tears, some even profusely weeping.
One priest said to me: “These boys are so honest!” On another occasion, an elderly priest looked up at me, and said tearfully: “This is why I became a priest.” Such an atmosphere can be created only if the participants are unequivocal in their belief that those who lead the retreat are authentic. Authenticity is the key for any retreat programme and leader. Once people know that you indeed care for them – and that you are committed to what you are teaching – then they will come along with you. Thus my second series of lessons as a spiritual director: first, if you don’t believe in what you are doing – leave. Children and young adults are the best judges of hypocrisy. Second, you can only light a fire in someone else’s heart from a flame already burning within you. To keep this flame alight, take time to go on your own retreat in daily life, keep reading, experiencing and learning. Third, everyone wants to be listened to; once a person knows that they are being heard, they will respect you. You can then speak and be heard.
Experience in teaching boys has also taught me that three other characteristics are critical for the successful running of a retreat. First, the ability to tell a story: boys love stories. In addition, oral tradition within a school is vital. The boys want to place themselves in the context of a bigger picture. Second, boys love a sense of humour: not a contrived joke, but a dry reflection or quip, or a humorous tale of the past. Third, when you teach boys, follow the general rule of one eye open, the other closed. Understand that they are probably not as eager to hear you as you are to speak. Don’t keep finding fault with the audience.
Finally, the most critical component of retreat work is prayer. Without the support of prayer, or a focus on the relationship with God, a retreat turns into a camp. Allowance should always be made for the participant to speak to God. All activities should lead to this point, so that coming away from the retreat, the individual now continues in their everyday life richer for the insights with which they have been provided.
The hustle and bustle of the boys racing home to begin the weekend was the soundtrack to the beautiful view I had of the Canning River that frames the school on two sides. One of my pupils, a young man in his final year, looked up at me as he walked down the hill to the shore, smiled and waved. He unhitched his aluminium boat, and started his outboard motor to make his way home across the wide river. There were half a dozen boys in that year who came to school the same way. Peter, the name I will give this young man, had in his boat a fishing rod; a little way offshore, he stopped his motor, sat back in his boat and began to fish. That to me was the life: to be a boy again and have Peter’s life would be something indeed – my daily routine as a boy had been the smell of a congested diesel bus. Most days Peter would follow the same routine. What a lucky boy. It was my first year as the spiritual director of Aquinas College, and I soon came to know that a doctorate in mystical theology sounds impressive, and certainly can be useful in this role, but is nowhere near the most integral part of a complex series of skills required of any individual willing to run a successful retreat programme for boys.
The time came soon for choosing Year 12 (18-year-old) leaders for the Encounter Retreat programme, a three-day residential rites-of-passage retreat comprising Year 11 students, who are led by members of the graduating class. Peter volunteered, and I happily selected him. Off Peter went to be guided by my assistant spiritual director, Br Brian Clery cfc, a very wise and immensely experienced retreat master, who in our now 13 years of working closely with one another has taught me more about practical spirituality, and the education of boys, than any textbook or any university course ever did. Thirty years separate the two of us, but if one listens closely, and is willing to learn, the wisdom that can be imparted to improve one’s own spiritual direction (and self) is vast. Br Clery spent many hours helping Peter with the lecture that he was going to deliver at the retreat. Peter’s directive was to open the retreat by explaining to the boys where his life was at the moment, and some of the joys and sufferings of his life thus far.
As I have come to understand, the first speaker so often sets the tone for the rest of the Encounter Retreat, for by being open and honest, they can give younger students the courage to do the same. So the time came. In a hall, in a semi-rural location, the excited chat of 50 adolescent boys was brought to a close as Peter took his place at the lectern. He looked towards me, beamed a smile that expressed the effervescent nature of his good soul, looked at the audience in front of him, and said: “Hello, my name is Peter, and this year I have had to save my father’s life three times.” We were all gobsmacked as Peter, the young man who seemed to have no care in the world, aside from the size of the fish he sought to catch and how he was to cook it, proceeded thereafter to explain a painfully tragic home situation. It was gut-wrenching. Thus the first series of lessons that I learned about directing retreats: first, be prepared to learn more from those you are leading than they might from you. Second, the task of the retreat leader is to facilitate, rather than dominate. Third, the greatest heroes you meet in life are not to be found in encyclopedias, but in the faces of those you sit beside each day. Fourth, as retreat leader, you must do everything possible as you prepare the retreat to come to understand those for whom you are preparing it. Fifth, never presume that you know too much about your subject matter, nor about life. Be prepared to be surprised, and always to learn, from others and from mistakes.
That retreat experience was my first at the college, and since then I have continued to learn and delivered more than 250 retreats to boys aged 12 to 18, as well as to fathers and their sons. Experiences such as Peter’s, although not precisely replicated, are matched frequently in the depth of tragedy that many young people today face. Schoolteachers are now at the forefront of the pastoral face of the Church, where the clergy once stood. The reticence of many youths towards regular Mass attendance, and a disengagement with the sacraments and the clergy, has meant that the teacher in a Catholic school is aware in an only too real way of the joys and sufferings of their students. The retreat programme brings these experiences and emotions out.
The particular retreat experience that the Encounter Retreat offers is cathartic, not only for the students who participate, but for the staff involved. When sitting in small groups and sharing details of one’s life journey, others are empowered to do the same. The tough, sunburned faces of young Australian men are soon covered with tears, as their mouths tell the tales of absent fathers and stresses related to family break-up, illness, incident and accident. I can recall one of the toughest young men I ever met, delivering the opening address, in which he spoke about the recent death of his grandfather, the patriarch of a family of Australia beef-cattle farmers, who lived out in some of the harshest countryside. He gripped the podium and his knuckles were white, as he struggled to tell of his sitting beside his grandfather’s deathbed as he passed away. No one had ever seen this young man in any other light than an Achilles, minus the vulnerable heel. The podium shook as his voice broke. I walked up to him, and told him that it was not necessary for him to continue. He looked at me with tears in his eyes, and in a broken voice said: “I will be all right, sir.” He continued, and gave one of the greatest speeches I have ever heard delivered by anyone. No one applauded. What they had heard was too profound for applause.
On another occasion during the Encounter Retreat programme where we collect and collate 10 letters from each participant’s family and friends (without the participant knowing), I received a phone call from a grandfather in New Zealand. He had received a copy of my instructions inviting people to write letters. He was eager to write, but needed more time. I told him to take a few extra days, and to fax his letter to me. Four pages of a fax arrived, and I folded these pages and placed them in an envelope to give to his grandson on day two of the retreat. The retreat was a few weeks away. In between the day I received the fax and the retreat, the grandfather passed away. The boy flew to the funeral in New Zealand. A week later, during the retreat, the young man in question opened the letter in the silence in which all the participants are asked to read, and was told from the grave how much he was loved by his grandfather. This day-two experience is a highlight for many boys; and I have found it curious that the hardest of men are reduced to tears the quickest. No one is laughed at by their peers, for we encourage the young men to understand that they are males by gender, and men by choice; and by that we mean that to be a man one must have a sensitivity of heart, and deep concern for others. It is a painstaking task to collect and collate such a vast volume of letters, but the rewards are immense. Every family is sent a letter and a reminder, and if there are issues with mail not coming in on schedule, phone calls are made: local, national and international, if need be. Rarely do I struggle to gain for each student a fair-sized number of letters. In our programmes, we offer the Sacraments of the Eucharist and Reconciliation. It would seem that those priests who serve Christ in our programme also have profound experiences. Often when I go into the rooms that are used for Reconcilation, I find priests’ faces wet with tears, some even profusely weeping.
One priest said to me: “These boys are so honest!” On another occasion, an elderly priest looked up at me, and said tearfully: “This is why I became a priest.” Such an atmosphere can be created only if the participants are unequivocal in their belief that those who lead the retreat are authentic. Authenticity is the key for any retreat programme and leader. Once people know that you indeed care for them – and that you are committed to what you are teaching – then they will come along with you. Thus my second series of lessons as a spiritual director: first, if you don’t believe in what you are doing – leave. Children and young adults are the best judges of hypocrisy. Second, you can only light a fire in someone else’s heart from a flame already burning within you. To keep this flame alight, take time to go on your own retreat in daily life, keep reading, experiencing and learning. Third, everyone wants to be listened to; once a person knows that they are being heard, they will respect you. You can then speak and be heard.
Experience in teaching boys has also taught me that three other characteristics are critical for the successful running of a retreat. First, the ability to tell a story: boys love stories. In addition, oral tradition within a school is vital. The boys want to place themselves in the context of a bigger picture. Second, boys love a sense of humour: not a contrived joke, but a dry reflection or quip, or a humorous tale of the past. Third, when you teach boys, follow the general rule of one eye open, the other closed. Understand that they are probably not as eager to hear you as you are to speak. Don’t keep finding fault with the audience.
Finally, the most critical component of retreat work is prayer. Without the support of prayer, or a focus on the relationship with God, a retreat turns into a camp. Allowance should always be made for the participant to speak to God. All activities should lead to this point, so that coming away from the retreat, the individual now continues in their everyday life richer for the insights with which they have been provided.
No comments:
Post a Comment