isolated they were,” he remembers. “No one knew these people. They usually had few friends and no nearby caring family members.”
Paul prayed about his visits and wondered if he and the church should be doing more. “Is this enough?” he asked God. “I stayed with that question.” He listened for God’s guidance, and as he listened, he worked. During his time at St. Benedict, Paul and the pastor, Father Bill Anderson, were on call 24/7 at the local hospital as well, ministering to dying people and their families. “It was a baptism by fire,” Paul says. “I was absorbed by it. I loved it. I could have done it for the rest of my life.”
Through Hilare Reinold, Paul met a woman who had inoperable stomach cancer. She was divorced and had not remarried—and was alienated from her family. She lived in a tiny bungalow in a blue-collar neighborhood. She went in and out of the hospital, and her only care came from neighbors and friends—plus Hilare and Paul. The day she died in the hospital, she was surrounded by a nurse, the hospital chaplain, and Paul. They held vigil by her bedside, holding her hands and praying and crying with her. She was waiting for a visit from an estranged son, but he never came.
At the end, “it felt right,” Paul says. “She died, but at her death she had a deep confidence that God was with her. God was her strength and anchor. She trusted God. The moment of her death was completion. You could see it on her face. God transformed her suffering and took it upon himself.”
But Paul later found he was angry. “I felt lonely because of her loneliness, and I was mad that she was alone. I was angry that she had been neglected for whatever reason by her son. It convinced me that no one should die alone and forgotten.”
The home pastoral care visitations in the parish continued, but Paul persisted in asking Hilare, “Is this enough?” They began to explore a ministry to people isolated by illness. Paul was transferred to a new parish, his first pastorate at St. Thomas More Church in Manalpan, New Jersey, but he continued pursuing this idea with Hilare. Together they called friends and professionals to share their concern and open a process for prayerful discernment. Over several weeks, they prayed and searched the Scriptures, all the while seeking God’s direction. The discussions were exhaustive and many options were explored. But Paul urged patience and refused to implement something immediately. He waited. He listened. “I gave it time,” he says.
One alternative was the hospice model, but Paul envisioned something different. He wanted to support people in their illness and prepare them for their death. “Suffering in itself has no meaning,” he says. “It’s fruitless to get into the question, ‘Why did this happen?’ Instead, I wanted to help people understand the meaning of suffering in their lives. I wanted to help them answer the question, ‘Where is God in this?’ I wanted to help them understand that God knew the burden of their suffering and would embrace it with them. This was the liberation of the cross. It wasn’t just about the forgiveness of sins.”
What emerged was the notion of a spiritual retreat for people with chronic or life-threatening illnesses; Paul and his colleagues call it the Gennesaret Retreat for the Seriously Ill, using Mark 6:53–57 as their scriptural inspiration. They have settled on a three-day model—from Friday to midday on Sunday. The retreat focuses on listening to God, seeking the voice of God in prayer, conversation, liturgies, and group meetings. “There are no jobs and no tasks—except one, to receive the grace of God’s word spoken to them during this sacred time,” says Paul.
Paul and the retreat team had much hard work to do to implement this vision. From the beginning, there were enormous logistical obstacles. The candidates for the retreat needed medical care and equipment. They were invariably strapped financially—and isolated. They saw their homes as their primary security, so they had to be reassured of their safety and comfort on the retreat. “Going on a retreat is a threat,” Paul says. “We have to alleviate the stress of that anxiety.”
The result: Gennesaret Retreats are free. They are open to anyone with a chronic, life-threatening illness (non-Catholics and even some Jews have participated). Full nursing care, medical equipment, and medical care are provided. For a retreat of ten to twelve “guests,” as they are called, a staff of twenty to twenty-five is needed, including at least ten nurses. All are volunteers. A registered nurse does a health history and medical assessment of every prospective guest before the retreat. Paul follows up with a personal spiritual assessment.
After twenty-five years, nearly a thousand guests have experienced a Gennesaret Retreat in Catholic dioceses primarily in the Northeast and in the archdiocese of Louisville, Kentucky.
On the retreat, there is one surprising prohibition—no talk about being sick. “The ill are self-absorbed by their illnesses,” Paul maintains. “The whole intention of our retreats is to help them to listen to God speaking through others and in their own hearts. Our goal is to open their hearts to listen and receive whatever God desires to give them.”
The guests are truly ill. For example, one typical retreat involved sixteen guests, ranging in age from forty-nine to eighty-eight. Their conditions included brain tumor surgery (with postoperative mood swings and depression), multiple diagnoses of cancer (colon, bladder, skin, lung, chest wall), chronic and progressive multiple sclerosis (with rods and pins in one leg), severe degenerative rheumatoid arthritis, stroke, cardiac bypass surgery, valve replacement, aortic graft replacement, osteoporosis, cancer of the stomach, breast cancer, epilepsy, cerebral aneurysm, diabetes, kidney transplant, spinal birth defect, fractured hip, heart valve disease, and a pacemaker implant.
The list of “special needs” for these guests is overwhelming. For example: “uses walker at all times and wears back brace,” “generalized weakness; dietary needs, doesn’t eat meat,” “very emotional and sensitive and suffers some depression,” “must use oxygen at all times,” “has had problems with falls—needs assistance with stairs,” “always uses walker and needs wheelchair for distances,” “tires very easily—symptoms of numbness and exhaustion are increasing,” “has difficulty with gait,” “constant assistance with personal needs and hygiene,” “generalized weakness and depression,” “balance difficulties,” “legally blind,” “is unable to sit up for long periods,” and “tires easily due to heart disease and aging.”
The retreat begins in the early afternoon on Friday. Paul gives a presentation in which he emphasizes listening as the focus of their time together. He urges them to spend time alone or with others—listening. He passes out cards to each guest. “Write what is on your heart,” he tells them. “What do you bring to God, what need or prayer as you begin this retreat?” Each prayer card is placed in a bowl that is present through the retreat conferences and prayer services.
In the late afternoon, the Eucharist is celebrated, followed by dinner. Then Paul talks about the day ahead and suggests that as they say their prayers that night, they consider Philippians 4:13: “I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” “We’re very strong on Scripture,” he says, “but we’re not directive about it. Scripture can speak in so many ways through so many texts. But we have to listen to hear it.”
The guests go to their rooms. The staff meet for much-needed prayer. The night watch begins. There is always someone walking the halls, attentive to anyone in need.
After breakfast on Saturday, Paul briefly talks to the guests about the meaning of the cross and gives each guest a small crucifix. He quotes Pope John XXIII: “The greatest challenge of the spiritual life is not to give love but receive love.” Paul tells them, “God wants to give you something, but your fear is a big issue. God loves you as you are. You do not need to change, but you do need to be willing to receive. Our inability to receive is tied to our inability to listen, which impedes our ability to understand God’s will for us. Each of us builds ironclad walls, which we don’t even see. Push your distractions aside and let grace work. We see life as a series of events. That’s
