A time to retreat

In our modern world when we hear the word “retreat” we usually think of defeat. When two armies meet on the field of battle, the won that retreats is generally looked at as the loser. What we often forget, however, is that no single battle decides an entire war.  The same can be said for our spiritual battle.  At times the best thing we can do when we are tired and worn out from fighting the good fight is to pull back and regroup, retreat.  As a man I think there is something especially challenging about this idea of a retreat.  I somehow see it as a direct affront to my macho self-image. I prefer the idea that I am unstoppable, unbeatable, and generally all around awesome.  I don’t need to retreat because nothing could ever stand against me.  When reality sinks in (as it usually does) I realize that nothing could be farther from the truth. I do need help. I need to retreat. I need to pull back and make sure that I haven’t allowed my ego to balloon up and obscure my relationship with God.  I recently had just such an experience, and it wasn’t even planned. I took some time off to attend a wedding in St. Louis and while I was there a number of different things happened in my life. I had the opportunity to visit several amazing churches, one of which was the Cathedral Basilica of St. Louis.  While I was there, I was reminded of several things that somehow, somewhere along the line I had forgotten; things that made me extremely proud to be Catholic. One of which was how seriously Catholics take liturgy and worship. I love my protestant brothers and sisters, but they have really missed the boat on this one. While I have seen some of their churches that I would call pretty, I have yet to see one that is jaw dropping, eye bulgingly beautiful. The kind of place where as soon as you walk in the door you just want to fall to your knees because you know you are in the presence of God. You know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this place is sacred. The statues, the mosaics, the altar, the domed ceiling, everything screams worship, and it gave me some food for thought.  Jesus Christ wasn’t any more present in a fancy basilica than He is here in St. Joseph’s.  The Eucharist is the Eucharist, no matter where we go or what we are doing. It doesn’t matter if the sermon is good or bad, the music is chant or contemporary, and the language is English, Spanish, or Latin. Jesus is still Jesus, and that is what is important. I was glad for the opportunity to step back and experience a side of Catholicism that I rarely see anymore. The more formal side that sends shivers up my spine. It made me think of how we get to participate in something that has been going on for thousands of years.  The mosaics of the Saints of old preaching the Gospel and frequently laying down their lives for their convictions left me feeling very inadequate.  It made me stop and really think about whether or not I am really giving my all for the kingdom of God.  When I got back to Wenatchee I felt extremely refreshed and ready to enter into the battle once again. A retreat isn’t a sign of defeat, only a sign that we are all weak and in need of God’s mercy and strength.