The Ray of Light (An excerpt from “The Grand Piano Principle”)

One of the most rewarding spiritual experiences I have ever had was when we lived in California and, on an annual basis, attended a weekend retreat at Mater Dolorosa (https://materdolorosa.org) with the men from my parish in Venice, St. Mark’s. The retreat house is in the foothills of the San Gabriel mountains in Sierra Madre and it is spectacularly beautiful.

Calling it a retreat house or even a retreat center grossly understates the property. It is God’s estate, not a retreat house or center, and He kindly lets us souls visit it from time to time, a harbinger of heaven. Built in 1932 and designed by John Frauenfelder on 83 acres at an elevation of 1,200 feet, the “center” is run by the Passionist Fathers, an order founded by St. Paul of the Cross, who provide retreats in several other locations around the United States including Pittsburgh, Houston, Detroit, and Jamaica/Queens. The Sierra Madre site includes outdoor, life like-like Stations of the Cross dated from the mid-Sixties (artist sadly unknown), a Garden of the Seven Sorrows of the Virgin Mary (designed by Italian artisans) and a very moving sculpture of the Agony in the Garden done by Christopher Slatoff. Complete with olive trees. You are there. In the Agony. In Gethsemane. Especially if you walk it in the evening. So, it is special. I spent many times, both in the group and by myself, walking the Stations and praying on the Passion.

For many, many years I had been drawn to make a retreat but I had resisted for some reason. I always came up with an excuse...too much time, demands of work, missing the Super Bowl party, whatever. Today, having been on many retreats and feeing like I “get it” I conclude that the reluctance to take the plunge relates to a fear of letting go, a fear of what might be demanded, a fear of change. Having let go, responded to the demands and changing, all as best I could, I can say this...and I am glad I can...changing is the purpose of a retreat.

My friend Rob in Pittsburgh, who went annually, was always asking me to go. I said no many times. I do not recall why I changed my tune, but finally, I agreed to go. Rob was persistent. (See prior story.) For my first retreat, I took along a lot of reading materials to ponder in the quiet times and notebooks to write down my thoughts. When it was over, I found that I not only survived but liked it. A lot. But I was not bowled over. Not because of anyone’s fault but my own as I will explain. Being bowled over on retreat would come much later in my spiritual journey; but I owe it to Rob for being the friend who kept knocking at the door in the middle of the night asking for a loaf of bread. It was a start. A ray of light.

When I moved to California, the parish of St. Mark went every February, a lot of times on Super Bowl weekend and thus the source of one of my flimsy excuses above. (We were always home long before kick-off so this reason was clearly BS.) A little arm twisting was required of me this time but not much. After several retreats using the dual crutches of religious books and other busy work” to spend the quiet time, I made the radical decision to go cold turkey. No stuff. I was afraid for sure. But I was committed to spending my time alone talking, but mostly listening, to God and to pray, free form. This, for me, was an important breakthrough. Because of the fears I enumerated above, relying on paraphernalia was a way of pushing off hearing what God wants of you, of listening and speaking to God, of learning how to rely on God and not yourself. God comes in the silent moments I learned. And thanks to Rob for getting me started on this path.

Rob and Patty remained our best friends even after we moved to California. Despite the 2,500 or so miles, we talked often and we unfailingly got together when we went back to Pittsburgh. Just a couple of things about Rob:

1) We met because our kids played field hockey and lacrosse together and, if you ever watched the women’s game at the high school level, it is as exciting as watching Billy Gibbon’s beard grow. We had no choice but to engage or risk keeling over.

2) We loved watching Penn State and Steeler football games together and during that, Rob got me into “Death by Pepperoni,” a pizza from “Burgh’s Pizza and Wings,” so laden with pepperoni that I got grease on my pants riding shotgun when we went to get the pie.

3) He always started his phone calls to me with “How are things in CAL-I-FORN-I-A” and made an awesome CD for me shortly after we moved to Los Angeles with all songs CA like “California Dreamin’’, “Surfing Safari,” “Girls, Girls, Girls,” etc.

4) Rob loved dogs. His dog Lacey was always in the car with him. They volunteered together and Rob was brilliant at verbalizing Lacey’s thoughts. (“Can we go back to that nursing home? Please? Please?”)

5) Rob was a, I don’t know, 5-10 handicap. Loved the game. I would too if I was that good.

6) Rob and Patty tag-teamed helping old people invest their money and plan for retirement. They were good and honest advisors. This was a second career after he had started a very successful hair replacement business which he sold. Sadly, I never got a free sample.

7) Rob and I always compared miracle stories. Neither of us believe in coincidences and we often saw the hand of God in a timely reading or running into the person right when we needed that person, etc. And even bigger things. I am sure you have had these happen to you. (If not, you may not be paying enough attention. Be Attentive, as the Orthodox say. You’ll see ‘em.)

What follows is one of the miracles I remember. Sadly, Rob was not there for it.

One of the things Rob turned me on to was Andy Andrews. If you do not know who Andy is, he is worth looking up. His book “The Traveler’s Gift” is an excellent help book for both business and spirituality. Rob had attended one of Andy’s seminars and he brought back CDs of the talk. One set for me. And one set for him. It became a common bond, a common lingo between Rob and I. And very important to both of us for spiritual and business growth.

About six months before one of my annual St. Mark’s retreats, I found out Rob had brain cancer. Early in the year following his diagnosis, Rob and Patty flew to Marina del Rey. At the time, I was just hired to run a Bank in Pasadena and it was important that we got the bank moving in the right direction very quickly. I was blessed by a Board that let me spend the money to hire Andrews to speak to the entire staff of the bank. He is not cheap. Because Rob was instrumental in plugging me into Andrews, because he was a big fan of Andy and given what was going on with him, we had Rob and Patty fly out to attend the event. (It is unusual that an outsider attends an internal strategy meeting. But, as I said, I had a good board.) I still have a photo of my wife and I, Rob and Patty and Andy signed with the words “Thanks for your influence and example. PERSIST.” From that event. It hangs in my CA office to this day. (Persist without exception is one of the “lessons” from “The Traveler’s Gift” and was quoted in the previous chapter of “The Grand Piano.”)

Shortly after Rob and Patty’s visit and right before the annual retreat, Rob passed away. We went back to Pittsburgh for the funeral and it was, obviously, a very sad day. Rob really was my best friend.

Back In California, the loss weighed on me and I debated not going to the annual retreat. But, through the gift of the Holy Spirit, I lost the debate. That said, I was focused on Rob much of the time. As I have said, several times throughout this book, we are trying to get to heaven and trying to help others get to heaven. Rob had certainly helped me get on the right path to salvation and I sure hoped I had helped him. If I had not, it was too late. That is not a good feeling.

As I said, the outdoor Stations are gloriously realistic. They are always a wonderful way to contemplate how much God loves us but they are particularly inspiring in the dark. So, the last morning I was on retreat—after having thought and prayed about Rob, wondering if he got to heaven, hoping I had been a help and not a hindrance in that—I got up well before dawn to walk the Stations and pray for Rob’s soul. The agony, the carrying of the cross, the suffering and falls along the way, the Crucifixion, the taking of Jesus down from the cross all had a unique meaning when thought about them in the context of having lost one’s best friend in such a way. And, of course the last Station, the laying on the tomb, has a finality to it.

Now the Fourteenth Station at Mater Dolorosa is literally a tomb. In the ground. It has big concrete/stone walls, is partially covered. Like all the outdoor Stations at Mater Dolorosa it is well conceived and executed. Again, it takes you to Jesus’ burial site.

As I stood there praying for Rob, for his salvation and his being with Jesus in heaven, I realized something about Mater Dolorosa’s Fourteenth Station. Unlike the other 14th stations at many, if not all the Fourteenth Stations you will see in various parishes, there is no Jesus. Yep, Jesus is in the garden, Jesus is before Pilate, Jesus is laying in the dust, Jesus is greeting the women of Jerusalem. But in Mater Dolorosa’s fourteenth station, there is no Jesus. Where is He? Risen, of course. That justifiably gave me hope for Rob. And then, the miracle.

There are a lot of trees on the Mater Dolorosa campus and the fourteenth station is in the center of the property so that there are many trees between the fourteenth station and the East where the sun rises. It is very shady ordinarily. Despite these obstacles, as I was praying, a ray of light found its way through the myriads of branches and the leaves and illuminated the empty tomb. Wow.

As I said, I do not believe in coincidences. How blessed we are to have a God who loves us so much that He sent His only begotten son to save us. And how blessed we are that He continues to provide us with these rays of light, exactly when we need them, to give us the hope that salvation is right around the corner.

I often think of Rob in heaven. “Dave” he says, “You are not going to believe what it’s like here. It is FAN-tastic. Better than CAL-I-FORN- I-A.” He’s playing golf with St. Peter. Translating Lacey for a gathering of angels. Having a blast. I am glad for him. And I am thankful to God for giving me the gift of that insight. I, too, am having a blast.

Show A Little Faith.