A Retreat in St. Louis

In March, I had the good fortune to make two retreats. The second one (more about the first one soon) was part of the Spiritual Exercises I have been making for the past eight months. The Spiritual Exercises were developed by St. Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits. The most well-known form of the Exercises takes place during a 30 day retreat, where the retreatant prays for five hours a day. Most of us can't step away from life like this, so St. Ignatius created what he called the retreat in everyday life (AKA the 19th amendment). In this form, the Exercises are prayed over nine months. 

I began the Exercises in September, through the Bridges Foundation, an organization in St. Louis. In the exercises, you follow a daily prayer format, focusing mainly on the life of Jesus. You have a prayer partner whom you meet with weekly and also a group that you meet with weekly. Bridges offers an online version of the Exercises. I will write more about the Spiritual Exercises later. As Peoria is only a three hour drive from St. Louis, I had the opportunity to meet in person for what they call the Marketplace Retreat.

The retreat was held at the Motherhouse of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet in St. Louis, which sits on a bluff overlooking an inner city neighborhood, industrial businesses, and the Mississippi River. 

As I checked into the large red brick convent, the young woman assisting me said that it is the fourth oldest building in St. Louis. The building has a castle-like feel and sits on beautiful grounds. 

Above is view of the courtyard from my room.

The order's namesake with his Son.

I have two other connections to this order of Sisters. One of John's cousins, Maureen Langton, is a sister in this order. Ten years ago, we traveled to the Motherhouse to celebrate Molly's golden jubilee. Molly, who I will have to write a post about later, is deaf and has led a full life as a sister. She now lives in St. Louis in a retirement facility for the sisters. The other connection is that the Sisters from this order taught at my high school, the Academy of Our Lady/Spalding Institute. There were not many of them there when I was in school (1975-79) but our principal, Sr. Marcia Ann Daume, was from the order. I remember Sister Marcia Ann as being calm, a good quality for a high school principal.

At the retreat, it was great to see in person my prayer companion, Gary, whom I have been meeting with weekly on Zoom. We sat at the same table and shared in small group discussion. It was also wonderful to meet in person two of my fellow online retreatants, Christina and Mary.

Our retreat master was Fr. Michael Hartter, and he did a wonderful job using poetry and art in the four sessions he gave: The Ongoing Journey Into Yes, Meeting Christ at the Crossroads, Wells, Watering Holes, and Empty Spaces, and Home Is Where the Heart Is. Perhaps the image that most captured my imagination was the painting, The Servant Girl at Emmaus, by the Spanish painted Vasquez.

The title of the painting refers to the gospel story from Luke, On the Road to Emmaus. To summarize the gospel passage, on the day of the Resurrection, two followers of Jesus are walking to the village Emmaus,  and a man joins them. The three walk together and, astonished at the man's teachings, when they arrive at Emmaus, the two men invite him to join them at the inn. It is not until they break bread that they realize the man is Jesus, who then vanishes.

In this painting, you see the servant girl in the foreground. In the background on the left Jesus is sitting at table and you can also see one of the men he walked with. To me, the look on the young woman's face is one of fatigue mixed with slight disbelief. Whether she remembers his face or his voice, this lowly servant seems to recognize who Jesus is before his followers do.

Father Henri Nouwen wrote a book that was in part about gazing at one painting The Return of the Prodigal Son by Rembrandt. Someday I would like to look upon this painting in person. I think this painting is also worth a book. Here is a beautiful poem by Denise Levertov about the painting.

She listens, listens, holding

her breath. Surely that voice

is his--the one 

who had looked at her; once, across the crowd,

as no one ever had looked?

Had seen her? Had spoken as if to her?

Surely those hands were his,

taking the platter of bread from hers just now?

Hands he'd laid on the dying and made them well?

Surely that face--?

The man they'd crucified for sedition and blasphemy.

The man whose body disappeared from its tomb,

The man it was rumored now

some women had seen this morning, alive?

Those who had brought this stranger home to their table

don't recognize yet with whom they sit.

But she in the kitchen, absently touching the wine jug she's to take in,

a young Black servant intently listening,

swings round and sees 

the light around him

and is sure

The photo below is of a couple of houses that sit directly across the entrance to the grounds of the Motherhouse of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondolet. I wonder if, much like the servant girl, the people who live in these humble houses recognize the good work and worth of the Sisters more than anyone.