The youth pastor
and the nuns.
When I arrived at Westville Baptist Church, there was already a youth pastor in place. He was a delightful young man by the name of Richard Erasmus, newly graduated from the Baptist Theological College. He attracted young people like a magnet, and the youth work was going extremely well. Although he was already about 24 years old, he looked so young that he was sometimes mistaken for one of the young people. He already had a girlfriend – soon to become his fiancée – herself finishing her studies at Baptist theological College in Johannesburg. But he was young and handsome, and I think a lot of girls flocked to the youth group in the hope that the girlfriend/fiancée might disappear.
By this stage in my ministry, I had been exploring other branches of Christianity and trying to draw the best out of each of them. (I have written this up in the article “The Five covered Colonnades.”) The “Contemplative Colonnade” had been particularly helpful to me in my Christian life. This is the branch of Christianity that values solitude and silence – sometimes called “Retreat.” A Retreat to be of any value should ideally be a period of at least 24 hours during which one observes complete silence – even at mealtimes. In my first experience of retreat, the organisers, not thinking very clearly, provided us with raw carrots to eat. That was quite difficult to do in silence.
After about a year working with Richard, I thought it was time to introduce him to the mysteries of retreat. I thought I would be kind on him and we would do just eight hours.
St Dominics is a wonderful retreat centre on the Bluff in Durban overlooking the sea. So I booked the two of us in for the day. We started with breakfast which was not held in silence. It happened that there was a group of about fifteen nuns also on retreat. My experience is that most nuns are well into old age – I’m not sure what is going to happen in the future, as they do not seem to be being replaced by young people.
After breakfast we went into silence and agreed to speak again at 4 o’clock to share our experiences. From a distance, I kept an eye on Richard, and he seemed to be doing all right. Then it came time for lunch, which was in silence. I must say it was difficult to keep a straight face as I looked at this rugged, handsome, very young man standing in queue for his lunch among a group of aged nuns. He looked like a giraffe among penguins.
I was in front of him in the queue, and took my food and sat down. Richard followed and took the seat opposite me. He sat down, and immediately stood up and left the room. He was away quite some time, and his food was cold by the time he returned and began to eat. I wondered what had happened.
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At 4 o’clock broke silence, and I asked him why he had left the lunch table so abruptly.
He answered, “I sat on a bee.”
Sometime later we tried again. This time I booked us in Marianhill monastery. It was established by Trappist monks in 1882 under the leadership of Abbot Francis Pfanner. The monastery thrived on the mission fields of Natal and Zululand to such an extent that the monks found it virtually impossible to fulfil the obligations of a contemplative life. Its beautiful red-brick churches and monasteries with intricate shapes and designs are still visible all over KZN. The monks at Marion Hill are now involved in a number of community activities, including the running of a dairy farm.
The main retreat centre at Marian Hill is a three storey building. The bottom storey I never went into, and I didn’t know what it was used for. On the middle story was the dining room, and on the top story, a beautiful chapel. Richard and I again began with breakfast, served in the dining room – this time sans nuns. After breakfast, we began our silence and spent most of our time in the upstairs chapel. After about an hour, just as we were beginning to become “spiritual,” I noticed a rather unpleasant smell. For a while I tried to ignore it, but it came worse and worse until it was near-intolerable. I went outside to investigate, and discovered what the basement was used for. It was an abattoir. I got close enough to see the poor dead cow, with all its innards sprawled out in the courtyard. Someone had sliced them open and all of the offal was lying exposed to the sun. It was not a pretty sight.
I wondered how Richard was finding his second experience of retreat. He certainly wasn’t getting off to a good start.
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We spent most of the rest of the morning under the trees on the far-flung parts of the farm. Fortunately, by lunchtime, things had been cleared up, and the smell had abated. Otherwise, it would have been impossible to eat our lunch.
When it came time to share our experiences at 4 o’clock, I wondered what Richard would have to say. But the young man showed more maturity and insight than I might have expected.
He had actually used the experience to come up with a remarkable metaphor for the human experience. He saw us as living a three-tier existence.
On the top tier, we have a capacity for spirituality and relationship with God; a longing for high ideals and for purity.
On the middle tier, we have to acknowledge that we are fully human. We have needs and appetites, and, as Christians, are subject to everything that all creatures great and small are heir to.
On the lowest floor, in the depths of our unconscious, things go on that sometimes we would prefer to deny. There is a very deep part to every human being – sometimes dark – with which we all have to come to terms.
The three-storey retreat centre at Marianhill circa 1956
Postscript.
I met up again with Richard recently. He is now in his mid-40s, and still at the same church, ministering now in the area of personal growth and spiritual development.
I showed him this article and his comment was: “Your story aligns with my memories of the situation, but I think the incident of the bee sting seems a little understated. I’m sure I remember blood gushing too.”
I asked him to write something of what retreat and the Contemplative Colonnade have come to mean to him.
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He writes:
I am deeply grateful to Andy for introducing me to experience of “retreat”.
As a fairly young Christian (having walked with the Lord for approximately seven years before the start of my ministry as Youth Pastor at Westville Baptist) I found the idea of “retreat” to be somewhat novel. It was obviously something only the “older generation” did … but I was willing and keen to join Andy (for what sounded like a very easy “day off”) at a nearby monastery.
The experiences described above added to the richness of that initiation.
Retreat over the years has introduced me to many overlooked or forgotten ways of encountering and exploring God. Isolation (from the habitual rhythms and routines of life), silence (an escape from the voices that dominate our lives), imagination (a practice of pushing back the expectations of life) and remembrance (recalling the movements of God in my life) are some of the spiritual gems that I have discovered and enjoyed on retreat.
Retreat reminds me that God longs for a personal connection with me too … one that is defined solely by the holy space between Him and me.
This is the space I listen to, explore and unpack … whenever I find those epic moments of retreat.
Much of life, I believe, must be lived and understood in community.
Thank you for this introduction Andy … I truly believe it was one of your greatest gifts to Westville Baptist, and to me personally.
Richard