One day after lunch we had over an hour before the next session began, so I grabbed my camera and snagged most of the photos you see here. I took the opportunity to wander around and began to explore other parts of the grounds. Everyone who had brought guitars gathered on the front lawn of the retreat center and I enjoyed listening to them strum in the distance as I played the shutterbug. They chose semi-familiar hymns, along with some new ones that one of the men -- who I'll guess was a music minister at his church -- taught them the chords to.
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One of the highlights of my retreat was a visit to the Hermitage, up the bumpy road another 10 or 15 minutes further. I made a point to carpool with people who had a Durango. I had expected an old stone monastery, like you might see in a medieval movie, though by now I was pretty confident that the theme for this mountain was woodsy all the way. Indeed the entrance to the hermitage grounds reminded me a great deal of the wooden entryways typical of amusement ride queues. But instead of Mickey Mouse or Bugs Bunny characters roaming the park, ours was inhabited by religious statuary around almost every corner.
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After a fashion I heard one of my favorite songs ("Step by Step" by Rich Mullins) and decided it was time to put my camera away and join them with my own guitar. By this time others in the group had gathered around to sing along, and it was a glorious experience to be a part of this impromptu concert. It was the only musical thing I really did on the trip.
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I mentioned Sister Carolyn on a previous page. It was she who led our tour of the hermitage grounds. A fair number of the retreatants were returnees who'd been here before and whose faces Sister Carolyn remembered. Her calm and polite manner were now embellished by a mild sense of humor as she told little anecdotes about things worth pointing out to us. |
I should mention that the weather remained absolutely perfect throughout my whole time at the retreat. Even during this significant outdoor walk a soft breeze and the shade of the trees kept things very pleasant. The grounds included bountiful and very orderly vegetable gardens, and some of the lushest and most colorful flower gardens I've ever seen. The pathways led us also through a rock garden, where stones bore such words as "Faithfulness" and "Endurance". All were tended to on a rotating basis by these Brothers and Sisters of Charity, as they are known. Most of the nuns and monks living there have taken vows of celibacy, though a small number of families also reside there. The youngest person I saw was probably 12 or 13. There was one building made of stone, a small chapel that went underground. The tiny two-room structure was the oldest one there, built when the original plan was to have all of the structures underground, presumably because of tornados. Eventually practicality and limited funds caused them to reconsider, so everything else is above ground. |
I'll guess this is Saint Francis. |
Here's the stone chapel. The tall man to the left and the woman with glasses near him are the previously-mentioned Carlos and Elizabeth. |
On our first evening at the hermitage we were invited to stay and worship in their larger church, a building not too unlike the retreat meeting room where our sessions were held. Michael Card and John Michael Talbot were each there, performing intimate numbers on keyboard and guitar at appropriate points during the ceremony. It lasted about an hour, including the introduction of a brand new monk who had just joined their fold, and was from all appearances a traditional Catholic Mass. Particularly memorable was the incense the altar boys carried, which was exquisitely pleasing to the nose. It filled the senses with a strong and slightly spicelike fragrance without being overbearing. I will never have to be sold on the virtues of aromatherapy. It was the first religious service I'd attended with a room full of monks and nuns and I must say it lent an ancient and solidifying feeling to the whole proceedings. |
The church was twice as big as it looks, with another four rows of chairs to the left of this picture. I can still smell the incense. |
I don't know if it was because we had lingered too long in the gardens, or whether it was never intended to be part of the tour, but we were never shown any of the living quarters of the residents there. From what I gather they are small cottages divided into a brothers' grove and a sisters' skete (settlement). At one time the Hermitage allowed curious visitors to come stay on the premises and experience monastic life for a few days or for longer periods. Now they restrict that only to serious seekers. For a reasonable fee, overnight accomodations are available at the retreat center if space allows. After church it was dark and there were no more scheduled activities for the night. We were relaxed yet wired from the highly religious rhythm of the evening, not wanting it to be over. So we all went into town for ice cream. On the way we listened to original songs written by attendees, including myself (some of us brought CDs to network with). It's always a little weird when strangers are hearing your music for the first time, but everyone's work was well-received and one of the songwriters in the Durango asked for my card so I could produce some of their music.
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