Retreat into Silence
Anthony Armstrong reflects after Mirfield 2004
Photo: Andrew Ash
On the weekend of 6–8 February a group of eighteen of us went away for the Anglican Methodist Chaplaincy’s annual silent weekend retreat at an Anglican Benedictine abbey in Mirfield, which is over towards Huddersfield. I had been looking forward to going to Mirfield for some months and, for me, it was one of those rare occasions when my hopes and expectations were actually exceeded by the weekend. One or two of those on the weekend had expressed some fears about how they would cope with silence for a whole weekend but, for myself, I found the silence and space really helped me to relax and to still myself. A weekend in silence is not really sufficient time to fully enter into the silence, because most of us found that our minds were only really becoming stilled on the Saturday afternoon or evening. Nevertheless, if you’ve never been on a silent retreat before a weekend is sufficient to get a taster of what a longer silent retreat would be like.
As a member of a contemplative religious order spending time in silence is nothing strange to me, and is something I look forward to. However, what I was really looking forward to was a whole weekend of silence away from any distractions, something which is a rare opportunity. I am fortunate that I have the opportunity to make an annual retreat but, for the past few years, that retreat has not been in silence. But certainly my Mirfield experience has helped me to decide that I want a week’s retreat in silence this year.
One of the really helpful things I learnt on this retreat was the idea of deliberately walking slowly as a way of slowing yourself down both physically and mentally. So often in our daily lives we’re rushing from place to place but on a weekend like this there’s no need to rush anywhere, and every reason to walk slowly. When I deliberately slowed myself down I found I had time to look more at my surroundings, and to actually notice the things I was passing.
My abiding memories of Mirfield 2004 will be twofold. Firstly, of the warmth and generosity the community showed toward their visitors. I have stayed in a couple of Benedictine monasteries and know how important hospitality and service to visitors is in monastic life. But the welcome that we received at Mirfield went beyond what I had experienced in the past; nothing was too much trouble for the community. They served us all our meals, and wouldn’t allow us to clean up afterwards, and we were invited to join the community in the choir stalls rather than sit in the main body of the church where most people on retreat sit. There were also many other small signs of being made genuinely welcome by the community. To me these Anglican Benedictines truly lived out the ideal of service encouraged by their Rule.
The other abiding memory is a rather mixed one. I was struck many times over the weekend that the religious services at Mirfield were very high Anglican. There was a lot of incense, icons, statues of Mary etc. Indeed there was more incense and ornate vestments than I have seen in a Catholic service for some time. This made it all the more difficult for me when, at the Sunday morning Eucharist, I was unable to receive communion in a religious community that, given its very high Anglican liturgies, would almost certainly believe the same as the Catholic Church teaches. And, when I went up to receive a blessing from the priest, the beautiful blessing that he gave me just reinforced the pain of not being able to receive Communion.
However, painful as it was not to be able to receive Communion in such circumstances, it has certainly reinforced my prayers for Christian unity, and for the day to come when we will be able to share the Eucharist together. It also helped me to appreciate the pain many non-Catholics feel in not normally being able to receive Communion in a Catholic Church.
So, if you’ve never been on a silent retreat before and wonder whether you could cope with not talking for a weekend I hope and pray that this article will encourage you to come along to Mirfield 2005. I, for one, can’t wait.