Back From a Buddhist Silent Retreat

A Buddha statue at the retreat center (nearby, you might also see Francis of Assisi, the Virgin Mary, or a Flower Fairy)

Last week, I went on a five-day meditation retreat with some Buddhists from Ohio at a retreat center near Muncie, Indiana. Who knew that Muncie was a place Buddhists go to hang out? In fact, this was my second retreat with the Ohio Buddhists in Muncie. Turns out, it’s a good midway point for Cleveland and Cincinnati dharma center members to gather, and easy for a few of us from Indianapolis to join in, too.

Why did I seek out a Buddhist retreat in the first place? In the last few years, I have been finding Buddhism a fruitful place to deepen my prayer and meditation practice and to live out my spiritual values in a very practical way. As a lover of silence and contemplative prayer, it has been a useful and life-giving resource for me.

But a Buddhist retreat, while having a lot in common with a Christian retreat, is different in ways I had to get used to. I thought I’d share a few of those with you. Not because I think Christian retreats must change, but because it’s eye-opening to realize what we may take for granted as “normal.”

First, we did not go around the room and introduce ourselves. Nor did we wear nametags. At first, this seemed cold and distant to me. My mind wanted to make up little stories about who I thought these people were. Because Christians almost always go around the room and share our name and some mix of: where we’re from / why we came / what we do for a living / what church we go to / where we have seen God lately / our favorite snack food / a fun fact about us. On this meditation retreat, there was a gentle anonymity. Sharing our experience of meditation practice was emphasized, rather than sharing personal knowledge of one another. This is a kind of spiritual discipline - to not tag yourself or others with identity markers; a reminder that we are both more and less than anything that can be spoken. That we can share in spiritual community just by being together.

Second, it was a silent retreat. There was no small group discussion, small talk, needing to say “hi!” or “excuse me” or to make eye contact. But this was freeing; the silence was meant to allow everyone to focus on their own practice. And it was not a militant silence. You could quietly ask someone where the bathroom was. You could say “oops!” without getting in trouble if you tripped over something, as I tend to do. You could sign up for individual conversation with the teacher, or ask during a question-and-answer session offered to the group once or twice a day. At meals, we sat three to a table … without speaking. We shared a meal instead of a conversation. Often, folks would linger together at the tables with morning coffee or an evening cup of tea - just being together, not talking. Does this sound awkward? It didn’t feel that way in the moment. It felt like enough. It felt full.

Finally, this retreat was rigorous. Most retreats I’ve attended try to be easygoing, refreshing, fun, and friendly. This retreat wasn’t grim or unfriendly, but it was focused and spare. Programming went from 7am until 9pm and mostly looked something like:

Sitting meditation (45 min)

Walking meditation (30 min)

Sitting (45 min)

Walking (30 min)

Sitting (45 min)

But there were also meals, hour-long breaks afterward, and teaching talks. And you could disappear and take your own break if you needed to. It was both hard and easy, boring and fascinating.

I realize this may be more of a hermit / introvert thing, but it is powerful to sit for so long with your own mind for company, undistracted by conversation, social media, work, or errands, and notice what your mind tends to do, how it deals with discomfort or pain, what it tends to say to you, how it’s unhelpful or unhelpful, kind or unkind, fixated or able to let go.

One of the roads at the retreat center where you could practice walking meditation.

For me, this has been a tremendous way to grow and to become aware of the presence of the Holy Spirit, around and within me. Over the years, I’d tried meditation and Centering Prayer often, but they never became alive or very useful to me. I had meditation tools that were the equivalent of, say, a pocket knife: useful but only in a few ways. Buddhism - particularly the Theravada / Insight Meditation tradition - has given me tools that are the equivalent of a computer: useful in untold ways, adaptable, multivalent, surprising. I’ve learned the most from Thich Nhat Hanh and Jack Kornfield, but also Tara Brach, Sharon Salzburg, and Pema Chodron.

I also have been delighted and surprised by how many church folks I’ve encountered in Buddhist circles. When I first started exploring Buddhism, I felt sheepish, as though I was “cheating” on my faith tradition. But I’ve realized I am one among many Christians who have for decades found wisdom in the teachings of Buddhism. My growing meditation practice has renewed the Gospel for me and I am grateful.

MORE FROM HEIDI

Some things I’m reading:

Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life. (Richard Rohr). Much resonated here for me: my shifting feelings about church as an institution, changing spirituality, and a loosening sense of self.

Faith After Doubt (Brian McClaren). I’m finding the understandings of God, prayer, worship, and scripture that I long found rich and meaningful are not what they used to be for me. McClaren and Rohr (see next book) have helped me hold this with some more intentionality.

The Naked Now: Learning To See As the Mystics See (Richard Rohr) — See above.

Unexpected Abundance: The Fruitful Lives of Women without Children (Elizabeth Felicetti). What do Dolly Parton, Elizabeth I, Helen Prejean, and Florence Nightingale have in common? My friend Elizabeth wrote a book about being a woman without children and yet still living a fruitful, powerful, and significant human life. A beautiful, fierce, and lyric book.

MY LATEST BOOK

Everyday Connections: Reflections and Practices for Year B - This is the last of the three books I’ve written as companions for the three years of the Revised Common Lectionary. Use to ponder and reflect in a small group or on your own, or get some sermon inspiration. For a free signed bookplate mailed to you from me - dedicated with your name if you so choose - go here. Year B starts on Advent 1, December 3, 2023.

New here? Want to know more? For more about me, my spiritual direction practice, and my other books and writings, check out my website.