Season of Creation Retreats 2024
Reflection by Anne Aalbers.
One of the first invitations I read as a newbie to A Rocha was an invitation to two retreat sessions to mark the beginning and the end of the liturgical Season of Creation, one at the beginning of September and one at the end. I’m not sure if there was any significance in the fact that the first was held indoors because of heavy rain (relocated from the beach) and the second was in the chill of an uncomfortable wind on Māngere Mountain. Perhaps Mother Nature was making her presence felt and reminding us that she is indeed God’s First Book.
Each retreat was two hours long. During this time, we were led in prayer by Lois Baldwin, we listened to Scripture, we took time to silently ponder, and we had time to wander by ourselves. We gathered symbols of what helped express our gleanings from our reflection, and listened to the experiences of others and the meaning they gave their symbols. Before I talk of my own gleanings and musings, if you weren’t there, I hope you are tempted to give the retreats a go too and join us next the Season of Creation!
I’ll talk about the second retreat day first; in good biblical fashion, “the last retreat shall be first.” I had arrived at Māngere Mountain in a troubled frame of mind, the fallout from listening to the morning radio beforehand and letting it depress, even anger, me. There are those who say one shouldn’t mix religion and politics, but I am not one of them. Fresh on my mind was the intent of one particular MP to dismantle many of the protections that have been placed for decades around our dwindling endemic fauna and flora. When I heard the reading from Isaiah that day, my heart leapt with a wicked joy. “Who is it who has measured the waters?” Isaiah challenged. “Who has held the dust of the earth in his hands or weighed the mountains on scales? The nations are like a drop in the bucket! The people are like grasshoppers! God brings princes to nothing.” (Isa 40:12-28) As I wandered the stony track of the mountain, pondering these words, I sought out the smallest stone I could find as a symbol. “There,” I spoke to a certain politician, who shall remain nameless, “You are nothing but a grasshopper. You are like this tiny stone before God who made the mountains.” This reminder of the bigness of God and the smallness of humans was a comfort in the battle.
My mind wanders back to our first retreat day. The format of the session had been the same, but the reading was from Romans 8:18-25. “All of creation is groaning . . . waiting.” When there was a pause in the rain we had taken time to meander through a local bush track. The symbol I brought back to add to the living art of our group was not a small stone this time, but something too big to carry so, instead, I have kept it in my mind’s eye. It was a huge decaying log with one seedling tree sprouting proudly from its decay. A triumph of life! “We know that the suffering of this season now,” Paul wrote to the Romans, “is not comparable to the glory about to be revealed.” I let myself read further and came to a familiar verse at 8:28, remembering that there has been a fresh translation of this, approved by none other than N.T. Wright. “We know that with those who love God, all things are working together for good.” Other translations say “for those who love God” but knowing that God is “with” us, working for good, is another comfort in the battle. In the task of conservation, the Spirit of God is alongside us, groaning within us, helping us in our weakness to achieve the good. We hold hope for the future of the environment.
My experience of these two Season of Creation retreats was powerful and hopeful. Good for the soul.
While it doesn’t fit everyone’s definition of a “productive” time, I hope you will be tempted to come along next time. It was special to spend time with God in nature, and share it with others.
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A poem from Season of Creation Retreat #1 by Rebecca Webb.
God’s glory breaks through
Just as the sun breaks through the clouds,
So God’s glory breaks through in our lives.
Sometimes we have seasons of downpour,
Where it’s hard to see or make sense of any glory.
Fields flood and plants die,
We get sick and injured, bonded to decay.
But other times the sun shines,
Trees blossom, flowers bloom, birds sing,
And our lives reflect God’s glory.
This mix of death and life, darkness and light,
Is a funny thing. Is it creation groaning?
Lichen grows but kills the tree,
A leaf falls but becomes a beautiful skeleton,
Ferns die but the silver colour remains.
One day we will all be liberated from decay,
And only life - God’s glory - will prevail.