In 1981 I was a senior in high school, and we all had to make a religious retreat as a requirement for graduation. The retreat was a rite of passage in which all the class would go together to a nearby retreat house with the ostensible purpose of learning about their faith. The reality was it was a two-day booze-filled party that the boys all laughed about. I missed it, because I was in a play, and the day of the retreat was one of our performance dates. As graduation neared I was told I would not be able to graduate unless I made a retreat. In desperation I booked a retreat at a Jesuit-run retreat house upriver. It was called Manresa, and was for older men with families. Well, I joined the retreat, and it was fabulous. The main rule at Manresa is no talking. The three-day silence was, for me beautiful. The men welcomed me and treated me as one of their own. I have returned annually to Manresa since then. The beauty of the grounds and the relaxing silence welcome me each year, and I return to my life refreshed and ready for the next year.
St. Mary’s Hall is the main dormitory at Manresa, and the rooms are comfortable and spacious, but that aside, the views of the trees and the land sweeping out to the Mississippi River are the main event.
Although retreats happen all year round, mine is always the last weekend in April or the first in May. It’s late springtime, and blooming flowers and hot, wet weather usually dominate the weekend.
Situated adjacent to the Mississippi River in south Louisiana, one of the dominant features, and one I have come to love is the presence of the mighty live oak trees scattered all over the land, some of which are hundreds of years old.
Over the decades of my attendance at Manresa, I have gone through several cameras, and those cameras have seen this beautiful place in its many moods from hot and sultry to rainy and flooded. The place remains, however immutable and permanent, a silent refuge from the tempestuous world.
