On Retreat: Can You Feel a Presence?

When I taught in a challenging school, there was an experienced P.E. teacher who had the measure of even the most badly behaved pupils.  He got taken off timetable to roam the corridors with a walky talky, being summoned to classrooms where pupils were out of control.  He was our trouble-shooting Sheriff. He had no more authority than the rest of us. But his presence always made pupils react positively.

He was particularly liked by the tough nuts he spent most of his time dealing with. I sent for him one day. The room fell silent as the Sheriff walked in. He wrote a note on a scrap of paper, folded it in half and gave it to the boy who was ruining the lesson. ‘Danny! Take this to the office and do NOT read it!’ Danny left the room and came back a few seconds later grinning from ear to ear. Knowing Danny would read the note, the Sheriff had written: ‘Danny, why can’t you behave in lessons?’

One girl, with a very troubled background, found it impossible to sit quietly. Something made her interrupt, heckle, and disrupt as soon as I started to speak. No amount of punishment changed her behaviour, she even said she wanted to behave better but couldn’t. So the Sheriff came to lessons with her. It worked. His silent presence meant she - and everyone else -was free to learn. He’d say her name softly when she was starting to disrupt, and immediately she would pipe down. Her behaviour was driven by feeling afraid and out of control; his presence took away her fear, so her aggressive, defensive, reactions didn’t need to kick in.

We’ve all known since childhood that the presence of another soul can be powerful, and however much we sometimes crave solitude as adults, we feel it still. It’s good to have another heartbeat in the house - that’s why pets are such a comfort to people who live alone. We like company when we’re ill, not just because we’re bored, but to feel another’s presence when we’re vulnerable.  We take someone with us to medical appointments when we might hear bad news. And of course, we feel instinctively that one shouldn’t die alone. We have a deep human need to be in the presence of another.

But not all the time. I read about a remote tribe who believe it’s unacceptable for anyone to be alone, even for a second. An anthropologist, staying with them tried taking a walk on his own, but each time he set off, someone would come sprinting after him. To be physically alone was unthinkable to these people. That’s not us, though, is it? Even if we’re feeling lonely and isolated right now, we wouldn’t want to never be alone.

We know there can be profound benefits from solitude.  We’re discovering, if we didn’t already know, that there are many ways to be with people without being physically present.  We are on a spiritual, and technological journey.

In normal times, people pay good money to isolate themselves - we call it a Retreat.  Well, we’re on a retreat now, whether we like it or not!

The Retreat is in every religious tradition. When the Israelites were liberated from slavery they didn’t go straight to the Promised Land. First, they went to the Wilderness to be tested, instructed, and to learn to be worthy of blessing. That’s why the gospel writers were so keen to present Jesus as being led into the wilderness to be tested before his mission. John heralded the coming of Jesus by going out to the desert as the fulfilment of the prophet Malachi, who had spoken of ‘one crying in the wilderness.’

Muhmmad’s first revelation experience was while he was meditating in solitude in a cave; the Buddha retreated to the forest to find enlightenment, as do many Hindu seekers; and Guru Nanak, the first guru of Sikhism, commended solitude to his disciples, saying: ‘Alone let him constantly meditate in solitude on that which is salutary for his soul, for he who meditates in solitude attains supreme bliss.’

Retreats work so well that they’ve gone beyond religion. Atheists go ‘on retreat’ and get away from it all. Creative artists use retreats to gather their creative energy and focus. The ‘spiritual but not religious’ find they can get in touch with ‘something’ in a period of seclusion. Even people who are neither spiritual nor religious sometimes seek solitude for refreshment and discovery.

During this unanticipated retreat we’re now on, I’ve spent some time feeling anxious or lonely, but for much of the time, this has felt like a retreat I can gain from. It’s reminding me of a time some years back, when I did some fasting from sunrise to sunset.  To my surprise, I found that waiting for the sun to go down wasn’t sheer deprivation, because I developed a whole new awareness, a ‘sense’ of food, during the day, as well as when I finally got to eat. Being deprived of company can work the same way, except instead of the spiritual connection being with food, we can discover it with absent loved ones - how precious is that!

We all know what it is to miss someone. When children leave home, when a partner works away, when relationships end, and of course, in bereavement. Absence can be numbing.  We miss our loved one with a strange intensity, an ache that’s like a presence. We miss little things, even bad habits. We long for them to come back and annoy us one more time.

But sometimes, more often than we realise, the ache transforms into a gentle, comforting glow, as we realise that the one we’re missing is with us in spirit. We are connected.

Going without, whether it’s company or food, can heighten our appreciation. It can also direct our senses elsewhere and heighten our spiritual perception. For many of us it’s not just other people whose presence we want to feel. If you believe in God, even a little, now is the time to see if you can feel him draw near. I believe that God is always ‘there’, because he is everywhere. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like this is true, other times it does. Solitude helps with this, it always has.

The first 12 verses of Psalm 139 express this sense of God’s all-pervading presence beautifully;

O Lord, you have searched me and known me.

You know when I sit down and when I rise up;

    you discern my thoughts from far away.

You search out my path and my lying down,

    and are acquainted with all my ways.

Even before a word is on my tongue,

    O Lord, you know it completely.

You hem me in, behind and before,

    and lay your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;

    it is so high that I cannot attain it.

Where can I go from your spirit?

    Or where can I flee from your presence?

If I ascend to heaven, you are there;

    if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.

If I take the wings of the morning

    and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,

even there your hand shall lead me,

    and your right hand shall hold me fast.

If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,

    and the light around me become night,”

even the darkness is not dark to you;

    the night is as bright as the day,

    for darkness is as light to you.

There are verses describing God’s presence alongside people throughout the Bible.

In Isaiah 41:10 we read:

“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God;  I will strengthen you, I will help you,  I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” 

In James 4:8 he writes ‘Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.’

There are many such passages.  Why not spend a little time each day reading some scripture? You might hear something of that ‘still, small voice’, that is such a comforting presence. Spiritual seekers have always used solitude to ‘hear’ God’s voice. That’s why they went into the desert in Biblical times; it’s why people go to retreats today.  Try now. See if you can hear the ‘still, small voice,’ in the still, small hours. What is there to lose?