The first annual Pillars of Faith Retreat at Sea sailed from Whittier, Alaska, to Vancouver, British Columbia, August 22–29, 2026, aboard Princess Cruises’ Discovery Princess. The week was organized by Pillars of Faith, the apostolate founded by Bishop Joseph E. Strickland, Bishop Emeritus of Tyler, Texas. Bishop Strickland was the principal speaker and celebrant. Michael Hichborn of the Lepanto Institute was the second scheduled speaker.
People boarded with real hope because the invitation had promised a week of fellowship and spiritual renewal: daily Mass, the rosary, Holy Hour, confession, and talks, set against the glaciers and ports of the Inside Passage. Many came wanting a concentrated retreat. Others came ready for a Catholic week that also left room for Alaska. Both groups were sincere. Both were on the same ship. They did not always experience the same event.
Pillars of Faith takes its name from St. John Bosco’s vision of the Church as a ship finding safety between two pillars: the Holy Eucharist and the Blessed Virgin Mary. In his first talk, Bishop Strickland presented that work and invited people into it. Later he explained the partnership in personal terms. The apostolate was looking for a bishop; he was a bishop looking for a community. To him, the fit was natural. That remark helped some travelers understand why the cruise existed. It also left others wondering whether they had joined a retreat, a gathering meant to form a new community, or a voyage that would close with a strong appeal for support.
The spiritual core of the week was not in doubt. Daily Mass and Eucharistic adoration were offered on most days. Those who kept those hours generally found them to be the heart of the journey. Bishop Strickland’s message was pastoral and steady. He urged the faithful to keep their focus on Christ, to take part in adoration whenever possible, and to continue praying for the Church. He did not spend the week stirring controversy. He spent it pointing people back to Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament. That counsel was received as a gift.
What divided the company was the use of time. Large parts of each day were left open for shore excursions, ship activities, and rest. Some retreatants loved that freedom. They went ashore, joined the ship’s entertainment, and still returned for Mass and adoration. For them, the week was restful and generous. Others were puzzled. They had heard the word “retreat” and expected a fuller common schedule of talks, silence, and shared prayer. By the end of the voyage, a number of them were asking, without bitterness but with real confusion, what the purpose of the gathering had been.
Mr. Hichborn’s session illustrated how small practical failures can affect a retreat. A computer printout of his talk was hard to follow. He had to pause and guess at the wording, and he explained the problem with the printer as he went. The difficulty was human and understandable, but it also broke the pace of the address. In a week that already left much of the day unstructured, a featured talk that could not move cleanly from point to point left some listeners disappointed.
The Juneau port day gave the voyage one of its clearest pilgrimage moments. A group went to the National Shrine of St. Thérèse, north of the city on Glacier Highway, on a small island looking out on Lynn Canal. St. Thérèse of Lisieux is the patron saint of Alaska. After her canonization in 1925 she was named Queen and Patroness of the territory; Bishop Joseph Crimont, Alaska’s first bishop, had a particular devotion to her. The stone chapel, built of beach rock by volunteers in the late 1930s, stands with a labyrinth, a rosary trail, gardens, and the Stations of the Cross. Time in port was limited, so the visit was a day excursion rather than a long stay. Still, it placed the group on Catholic ground in the land of Alaska’s patroness, and those who went generally spoke of it with gratitude.
Not everyone remained in the common life of the ship. A few passengers were quarantined after showing flu symptoms. That isolation was a hard and ordinary fact of shipboard life; illness travels quickly in close quarters. A handful of others simply withdrew to their rooms and kept a private retreat of prayer, reading, and rest. Some of that withdrawal was fatigue or caution about health. Some of it seemed to be a quiet attempt to recover the intensity they had hoped the official program would provide.
Near the end of the cruise, organizers made a strong appeal for financial support. Pillars of Faith is a nonprofit apostolate. It cannot continue without gifts, and there is nothing improper in asking the people who have just spent a week with a bishop to help sustain the work. Even so, the size of the closing push surprised some participants. Coming after the bishop’s account of an apostolate seeking a shepherd and a shepherd seeking a people, the appeal made organizational sense. As the final note of a week advertised as prayer and renewal, it felt, to some, heavier than the formation they had received.
The honest summary is mixed, and it should be stated without scorn. The voyage gave Alaska’s waters, a bishop at the altar, the Blessed Sacrament aboard ship, and a visit to the shrine of the state’s patroness. Bishop Strickland’s words were encouraging and clear: stay with Christ, adore the Eucharist, pray for the Church. Many guests left thankful for the sacraments, the scenery, and the freedom of the schedule. Others left still asking what they had come to do.
That question is not an accusation but the natural fruit of a first-year event that tried to be both retreat and cruise. A printer failure, a few cases of flu, and an open calendar are not moral failures. They are signs that the balance between common prayer and personal liberty was not yet settled. If there is a second retreat at sea, the kindest service organizers can offer is a clearer daily plan: Mass and adoration protected, talks prepared and paced, and enough shared purpose that people need not invent the retreat alone in their cabins.
Until then, the best of the week remains simple. Christ was present in the Eucharist. A bishop asked the faithful to keep their eyes on Him. That invitation does not depend on glaciers, printers, or fundraising. It remains, as it was meant to be, the reason anyone came aboard.
