Disappointment at Advent

Friday, Dec. 16, 2022

I spent last weekend doing a virtual retreat. It was an attempt to prepare myself more fully for Christmas, to bolster a spirit that too often replies to “peace on Earth, good will to men” with a heartfelt (if usually silent), “Bah, humbug!”

For the retreat I secluded myself for four days in Park City. I left instructions at work that I was only to be disturbed in an emergency. I limited my social media and telephone calls; left the house only once; and watched only one night of television, which I excused because the final episode of the series was on.

The retreat format was one I figured would be of great benefit: The presenter, a well-known expert in his field, would give a lecture in the morning and another in the afternoon. The rest of the time we would journal or reflect on our own. The presenter also scheduled several question-and-response sessions.

I’ve gone on several silent retreats, and find them spiritually refreshing, so I was looking forward to this one. Unfortunately, it was disappointing in more ways than one.

It started out with a minor problem with the house I’d rented, which I noticed as soon as I arrived on Wednesday afternoon. Then, the winter storm prevented me from going into Park City for dinner, as I’d planned – I thoroughly enjoy a nice meal, and meant to treat myself to that one, but my vehicle doesn’t have 4-wheel drive and the snow was falling too thickly for me to trust that I’d be safe on the roads that night.

Then came the worst disappointment of all: The retreat presenter didn’t cover the topics I had thought he would. Even worse, the Q&R sessions focused on individual issues, not the information the speaker gave.

Midway through the retreat, I called my sister to vent my frustration. Among other things, I asked whether I should just abandon the online retreat, despite having paid a substantial amount to attend. I could instead create my own agenda – I’d brought along plenty of reading material on suitable topics. 

On Gaudete Sunday, the last day of the retreat, I attended Mass at St. Mary of the Assumption Catholic Church. The Gospel reading was of John the Baptist, sitting in jail shortly before being beheaded, sending some of his disciples to Jesus with the question, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?”

In his homily, Msgr. Robert Bussen pointed out that St. John had preached the coming of a messiah who would restore Israel. No doubt he expected Jesus to ride out in battle like King David, sword in hand against the Romans who oppressed the chosen people. 

Instead, Jesus came and the blind regained their sight, the lame walked, lepers were cleansed, the deaf heard, the dead were raised and the poor had the good news proclaimed to them – not a sword to be seen, no battle cry heard, no uprising against the Romans called for.

John the Baptist must have been disappointed, Msgr. Bussen said, just as we often are, just as I was with my retreat. And yet Jesus cautioned that “blessed is the one who takes no offense at me” – which I suppose can mean that we shouldn’t complain when he does things his way rather than the way we expect.

True, I don’t think Jesus was in control of the retreat; but then, rather than asking him to open my mind and heart to the presenter, I instead complained bitterly and at length. It’s likely that most of my fellow retreatants found the event beneficial; in fact, many of them said just that while asking their questions.  But I, blinded by my expectations, insisted on wallowing in disappointment.

I grudgingly acknowledge the lesson learned from the retreat; that I should have acknowledged my disappointment and then focused on what the presenter had to teach. It’s entirely possible that what he actually had to say was more beneficial than what I had expected to hear.