- Brother Curtis Almquist, SSJE
Religious sisters and brothers are eccentrics. I’m not referring to our being rather dated curiosities (though we often do attract attention). I’m speaking of how, since the early centuries of the church, individuals have been drawn to the edge, to be eccentric, from the Greek èkkentros, out of the center. This movement has often been as a protest to the “success” of the church, its power colluding with the rather than confronting or transforming the surrounding culture. The movement out of center has also been a radical, sometimes-desperate response of individuals who know their personal culpability and who long to see more clearly, follow more nearly, love more dearly the God of their desire. The psalmist prays, “lift me to a place that is higher than I.” It’s that longing sense of perspective, of integration, of withdrawal that often attracts a person to explore the religious life.
An early desert father, Evagrius of Pontus (346-399), spoke of this separation not as a point of exclusion but rather of inclusion, about our being “separated from all and united to all.” What we read on the front pages of the newspaper – about war and conflict, about hope and desire, about fear and failure – we surely understand in our own hearts. From that point of identification, we seek to pray our own lives and help others find the prayer that God is giving them. In religious guesthouses, individuals are offered a king of holy space to stand back from their lives in order to see God’s hand at work within them and around them. A retreat is not the same as an advance. Especially in North American society, where the tyranny of urgent demands can be so blurring, some regular experience of retreat (even daily, if only for a few minutes) is often crucial to retrieve or redeem or reflect on what oth