Sometimes... I wish I didn't live in Seminary. More accurately, sometimes I wish more of the seminarians were party animals.
To be honest, I'm probably on the sedate end of the spectrum in most places... but seminary seems to attract the sedater kind, and I'm probably about middle-of-the-road for this community, so you'd think that out of twenty-seven guys I'd never really feel a huge need for a rowdier crowd. The handful of greater exuberance than myself ought to be enough.
Except that that half-dozen or so aren't as lazy as me. Or they have more work. Or tonight they're all tired. Or I'm not invited... (probably one of the others, but this should not be ruled out--I am a loner, after all)
Whatever the cause, I'm itching to go out and do something... but here I am, doing nothing. I doubt this would be such an issue if I weren't so darned reticent about ASKING people for things/to do things, but there you have it. That's the way I am, and precious little about that is going to change. I'd rather stew in my own loneliness than--Heaven forbid!--ask anyone to DO something.
It's a part of myself I've grown accustomed to, and I can't really say I'm bitter about it (though in my melodramatic moments, I could try...). After all, it's not as if I'm never invited by others, or ignored. It's simply that I don't do my share of footing the invitations. If that means I feel like I've got a lonely, spartan social life... well, I've got no one to blame but me.
Tonight, though... I've got an itch to go and DO something-- and it's bugging me!
Monday, February 26, 2007
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Lent
Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, the first day of the liturgical season of Lent, which precedes the joyous season of Easter, and is a time of seriousness, a time of fasting and abstinence, a time of remembering the darkness of our sin, and of cleansing it, before the bright glory of the Easter celebrations.
Ash Wednesday is one of my favourite holy days. Here in Olds, we've always had evening Masses for as long as I can remember, in order to accomodate those who have to work during the daylight hours. This gives the Mass a special feeling of culmination after a long day of fasting (I was doing fine until supper, when I had my only proper meal of the day, then after eating a good-sized meal I was STARVING). Mind, I tend to favour evening Masses in the first place. I like starting my day with Mass, but a day that builds up to Mass as the final major action of the day has a certain attraction as well.
The ceremony of being marked with ashes is one I like, if only because the choir, every year, sings "Ashes" during it. It is possibly morbid of me, but I think "Ashes" is a song I want played at my funeral. It's not exactly a classical song of comfort and hope, but it's not bereft of the latter.
And now it's Lent.... I go home (to Seminary) tomorrow sometime, in order to be around of the Rite of Election at the Basilica on Sunday, the rehearsal being Saturday morning. I get to be thurifer (incenser), which is my favourite job as a server, but one which (in this case) I didn't even ask for. It'll be good to be home.
Yes, I think I'm writing a little disjointedly, but we can put it down to lack of practice. Reading Break has been blissfully free of anything resembling school work.
Ash Wednesday is one of my favourite holy days. Here in Olds, we've always had evening Masses for as long as I can remember, in order to accomodate those who have to work during the daylight hours. This gives the Mass a special feeling of culmination after a long day of fasting (I was doing fine until supper, when I had my only proper meal of the day, then after eating a good-sized meal I was STARVING). Mind, I tend to favour evening Masses in the first place. I like starting my day with Mass, but a day that builds up to Mass as the final major action of the day has a certain attraction as well.
The ceremony of being marked with ashes is one I like, if only because the choir, every year, sings "Ashes" during it. It is possibly morbid of me, but I think "Ashes" is a song I want played at my funeral. It's not exactly a classical song of comfort and hope, but it's not bereft of the latter.
And now it's Lent.... I go home (to Seminary) tomorrow sometime, in order to be around of the Rite of Election at the Basilica on Sunday, the rehearsal being Saturday morning. I get to be thurifer (incenser), which is my favourite job as a server, but one which (in this case) I didn't even ask for. It'll be good to be home.
Yes, I think I'm writing a little disjointedly, but we can put it down to lack of practice. Reading Break has been blissfully free of anything resembling school work.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Absolution
I love Confession! Or the Sacrament of Reconciliation, or Penance, or whatever you want to call it. Be it a psychological or transcendental thrill, nothing beats that feeling of being clean (even if, as is the case, you feel slightly grungy and sweaty), of being at peace with God.
I leave open the possibility of a mere psychological thrill, though I am a completely convinced Catholic, simply because it could be just that. God works through physical signs and sacraments not because He can't do better, but because He made material reality fundamentally good, and because we are material creatures and we are most easily touched through it. So the thrill may just be the psychological result of believe in an unseen God and a cleansing personal guilt... but if so then that's a side-effect of scrubbing off the black mark of sin that I'm willing to keep.
Not that the thrill's always there. The absolution is, but I don't always get that rush of weak-kneed awe when I leave confession. Sometimes it's just more of a "been there, done it, I'm clean... now what?"
There's no "now what?" this time around. 'Tis too difficult when you're simply bubbling with joy.
I leave open the possibility of a mere psychological thrill, though I am a completely convinced Catholic, simply because it could be just that. God works through physical signs and sacraments not because He can't do better, but because He made material reality fundamentally good, and because we are material creatures and we are most easily touched through it. So the thrill may just be the psychological result of believe in an unseen God and a cleansing personal guilt... but if so then that's a side-effect of scrubbing off the black mark of sin that I'm willing to keep.
Not that the thrill's always there. The absolution is, but I don't always get that rush of weak-kneed awe when I leave confession. Sometimes it's just more of a "been there, done it, I'm clean... now what?"
There's no "now what?" this time around. 'Tis too difficult when you're simply bubbling with joy.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Is it Rude?
Nothing major to report regarding Valentine's Day. Or, rather, there's NOTHING to report. Sts. Cyril and Methodius had a very quiet feast day (since the restructuring of the liturgical calendar, and possibly longer, St. Valentine hasn't had a formal feast. Instead, we celebrate the Apostles to the Slavs, who with St. Benedict are the Patron Saints of Europe. Amazing guys, I might add. They wrote the Slavonic alphabet).
Yesterday's blues are long gone. Nothing a trip to Boston Pizza couldn't cure--to say nothing of a good night's sleep. I dressed all in black for school today. As clerically as possible, to put it another way. Looked rather sharp too, I might add, if not quite priestly. Call it a psychological protest of the celibate on a day devoted to romantic relationships.
On a totally different topic, I got to thinking about politeness today. To set the state, at the start of religion class, I was offered some of those cinnamon-flavoured heart-shaped candy. I declined. As the test was starting, I didn't explain further. I doubt it was a big issue one way or another.
However, perhaps demonstrating how little the test concerned me, I got to thinking. What should one do in such situations, when offered gum or candy (typically, that's what it would be). Do people find it rude when you refuse? Do they find you standoffish?
I wonder mainly because I generally refuse. Being diabetic has a lot to do with it, but I were to be perfectly honest, I'd say that it's more of a justification than a reason for refusing. It should be a reason--I certainly need to think more about watching my diet. But more often it's simply "I don't want any".
Now, obviously this isn't something I worry about much. But I had a spare five minutes today, so I did. Would the polite thing be to just accept the offer, and so build a bond of generosity/acceptance, and connect with the human network?
Or do people simply not care... as would be the case if it were me offering?
Yeah, I should be busier during Midterms week, I know...
Yesterday's blues are long gone. Nothing a trip to Boston Pizza couldn't cure--to say nothing of a good night's sleep. I dressed all in black for school today. As clerically as possible, to put it another way. Looked rather sharp too, I might add, if not quite priestly. Call it a psychological protest of the celibate on a day devoted to romantic relationships.
On a totally different topic, I got to thinking about politeness today. To set the state, at the start of religion class, I was offered some of those cinnamon-flavoured heart-shaped candy. I declined. As the test was starting, I didn't explain further. I doubt it was a big issue one way or another.
However, perhaps demonstrating how little the test concerned me, I got to thinking. What should one do in such situations, when offered gum or candy (typically, that's what it would be). Do people find it rude when you refuse? Do they find you standoffish?
I wonder mainly because I generally refuse. Being diabetic has a lot to do with it, but I were to be perfectly honest, I'd say that it's more of a justification than a reason for refusing. It should be a reason--I certainly need to think more about watching my diet. But more often it's simply "I don't want any".
Now, obviously this isn't something I worry about much. But I had a spare five minutes today, so I did. Would the polite thing be to just accept the offer, and so build a bond of generosity/acceptance, and connect with the human network?
Or do people simply not care... as would be the case if it were me offering?
Yeah, I should be busier during Midterms week, I know...
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Post-Birthday
So I've been twenty for 62 hours, 35 minutes (as of RIGHT now). I had thought I'd get to blogging about it sooner, if not on the night thereof, then yesterday... but life conspired to prevent that. Life and/or overall mood.
I'm in a rather blue/introspective mood these last couple days, and to judge by her email, Mom's evidence would say such was the same on Sunday. It's possible, therefore, that I will come across as giving a gloomier picture of my birthday than it actually seemed to me.
Certainly, it was a quiet day. I got up early, went to Mass at Holy Trinity at 9:00, and made it out to my aunt and uncle's a full two hours before my immediate family showed up. It's my uncle's 50th birthday this coming weekend, so he ended up getting royally roasted by my family in terms of birthday wishes. Possibly because I'm the favoured, dearly departed, son I was spared the razzing, and got useful presents that didn't poke fun at my age. Clothes, books, even a little LEGO.
After the extended presents-episode in which my uncle was given everything from a cane to a rocking chair, we had a game of Scrabble, where I managed to garner second place, my uncle overtaking me in the last lap with a stupidly obvious double-word placement of an "S" that gave him a handy 23 points or something. I guess he deserved it, though.
Supper was tacos (delicious), followed by cake (also delicious). My family took off right after that, having to be back in Olds at 8:00 (at it's a two and half hour drive, at least). I remained at my uncle's until about eleven. Most of the time was spent either playing with my 4 year old cousin or, after she was in bed, reading from my uncle's extensive library. In the last hour or so I managed to put the book down and engage my recently returned from lurking aunt in conversation, and finally headed back to the Seminary, laden with presents.
I managed to escape their driveway without backing into the ditch, and got back to Edmonton safely. It's the first time I've ever driven out there and back without SOMETHING happening... like getting lost (happened twice), getting stuck (happened once), nearly hitting a moose (THAT was scary...). Fun stuff-- really.
So that was my birthday. Possibly because I hardly saw any of them, my birthday barely registered on the seminary radar. Well, I shouldn't say that... In the half hour I was publicly visible before hightailing it to Mass, I think I got "Happy Birthday" from all the six seminarians I saw (which surprised me, since I didn't think I'd advertised my birthday that much... but I guess I did...). And there was the community-signed card. But, really, birthdays aren't a big thing in the seminarian. Probably has something to do with being a community of single guys.
As of Sunday, getting into bed, I didn't think I had that bad a birthday. I saw my family, had a good time. Sure, it wasn't exciting, and certainly didn't register high on anyone else's to-do list, but I've never expected much from my birthdays. I never had big parties as a kid, and I never really enjoyed them much. Birthdays have been something I've either shrugged off as inconsequential (getting older doesn't bother me) or a yearly dose of social blues. As birthdays went, this was a good one.
But getting online yesterday, I really was choked up by all the birthday wishes from people who I've never met in person-- people I might know from a picture or a voice-post, but that's it. In reality, I probably enjoyed it an awful lot more than I would in real life-- simply because I've never really been comfortable with being the centre of attention. It's a lot easier to deal with when you have time to compose a purely written responce. But still... it made me look at my "real" life a bit closer.
If my birthday is a matter of little consequence to others, and/or little remembered... well, it's my fault. I don't advertise such things, and I certainly present an aura of not really caring about such events. I've fully asked for it. What's more, even knowing this and experiencing a twinge of regret, I still wouldn't act differently-- which is probably why the online responce choked me so much. When you think you've set yourself and everyone around you up to ignore your birthday, drowning in it is that much more touching.
I mean, I expected one or two best wishes. Abby, certainly, as younger sister. Maybe a couple PMs or LJ posts... but that's it. Instead I get... I dunno... lots. It sounds the height of arrogance to say it, but the LJ friends page was MINE.
Couple all this post-birthday introspection with a very real, and unexpected, brush with mortality in the seminary community (our secretary's husband died very suddenly of a heart attack yesterday), and I'm in a really quiet and introspective mood. Valentine's Day may perk me up, though... we'll see. My dry sense of humour has a game afoot.
I'm in a rather blue/introspective mood these last couple days, and to judge by her email, Mom's evidence would say such was the same on Sunday. It's possible, therefore, that I will come across as giving a gloomier picture of my birthday than it actually seemed to me.
Certainly, it was a quiet day. I got up early, went to Mass at Holy Trinity at 9:00, and made it out to my aunt and uncle's a full two hours before my immediate family showed up. It's my uncle's 50th birthday this coming weekend, so he ended up getting royally roasted by my family in terms of birthday wishes. Possibly because I'm the favoured, dearly departed, son I was spared the razzing, and got useful presents that didn't poke fun at my age. Clothes, books, even a little LEGO.
After the extended presents-episode in which my uncle was given everything from a cane to a rocking chair, we had a game of Scrabble, where I managed to garner second place, my uncle overtaking me in the last lap with a stupidly obvious double-word placement of an "S" that gave him a handy 23 points or something. I guess he deserved it, though.
Supper was tacos (delicious), followed by cake (also delicious). My family took off right after that, having to be back in Olds at 8:00 (at it's a two and half hour drive, at least). I remained at my uncle's until about eleven. Most of the time was spent either playing with my 4 year old cousin or, after she was in bed, reading from my uncle's extensive library. In the last hour or so I managed to put the book down and engage my recently returned from lurking aunt in conversation, and finally headed back to the Seminary, laden with presents.
I managed to escape their driveway without backing into the ditch, and got back to Edmonton safely. It's the first time I've ever driven out there and back without SOMETHING happening... like getting lost (happened twice), getting stuck (happened once), nearly hitting a moose (THAT was scary...). Fun stuff-- really.
So that was my birthday. Possibly because I hardly saw any of them, my birthday barely registered on the seminary radar. Well, I shouldn't say that... In the half hour I was publicly visible before hightailing it to Mass, I think I got "Happy Birthday" from all the six seminarians I saw (which surprised me, since I didn't think I'd advertised my birthday that much... but I guess I did...). And there was the community-signed card. But, really, birthdays aren't a big thing in the seminarian. Probably has something to do with being a community of single guys.
As of Sunday, getting into bed, I didn't think I had that bad a birthday. I saw my family, had a good time. Sure, it wasn't exciting, and certainly didn't register high on anyone else's to-do list, but I've never expected much from my birthdays. I never had big parties as a kid, and I never really enjoyed them much. Birthdays have been something I've either shrugged off as inconsequential (getting older doesn't bother me) or a yearly dose of social blues. As birthdays went, this was a good one.
But getting online yesterday, I really was choked up by all the birthday wishes from people who I've never met in person-- people I might know from a picture or a voice-post, but that's it. In reality, I probably enjoyed it an awful lot more than I would in real life-- simply because I've never really been comfortable with being the centre of attention. It's a lot easier to deal with when you have time to compose a purely written responce. But still... it made me look at my "real" life a bit closer.
If my birthday is a matter of little consequence to others, and/or little remembered... well, it's my fault. I don't advertise such things, and I certainly present an aura of not really caring about such events. I've fully asked for it. What's more, even knowing this and experiencing a twinge of regret, I still wouldn't act differently-- which is probably why the online responce choked me so much. When you think you've set yourself and everyone around you up to ignore your birthday, drowning in it is that much more touching.
I mean, I expected one or two best wishes. Abby, certainly, as younger sister. Maybe a couple PMs or LJ posts... but that's it. Instead I get... I dunno... lots. It sounds the height of arrogance to say it, but the LJ friends page was MINE.
Couple all this post-birthday introspection with a very real, and unexpected, brush with mortality in the seminary community (our secretary's husband died very suddenly of a heart attack yesterday), and I'm in a really quiet and introspective mood. Valentine's Day may perk me up, though... we'll see. My dry sense of humour has a game afoot.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Parish Campaign
Last weekend I went home for the annual Parish Campaign for Newman Theological College and St. Joseph's Seminary. Consequently, I attended all three weekend Masses in Olds and Trochu, and spoke after Communion at all three, to drum up interest and support for the College/Seminary's campaign. Because Newman receives not a penny in government education dollars, we rely quite a bit on donations, tuition only going so far.
As far as my part of the campaign went, I think it went fairly well. I didn't have to time to linger after Mass in Trochu, since we had to hie back to Olds almost immediately for the 11:15 Mass, but judging by the comments after the Olds Masses, I think I spoke fairly well. I more or less ad-libbed, using the provided text as an outline, rather than reading it word for word. Of course, it's always better if your eyes are visible to the audience/congregation, rather than out sight glancing down at a paper.
Naturally, close to a decade of dramatic training doesn't hurt. I have a clear, loud voice and I know how to project into the microphone (an obscure talent reserved only for the most gifted, it sometimes seems...). Consensus in the parish was that I'll make a fine homilist-- which is good, but as my main point was that we need money (and since I'll be here for another 7.5 years, this impacts me not a little), I hope that point will stick with them.
It was interesting, riding to and from Trochu with Fr. Les and Deacon Jim. Interesting if only because it was the first time that it really hit home that, yes, I am well on my way to being a priest, and not just one of the ordinary laity anymore. Well, I am technically still a lay person in terms of what I'm canonically allowed to do, but as a seminarian I am a cleric, if an unordained one.
It was also an interesting and upclose look at Father. As a little kid, of course, Father is this mightly and awesome figure. It's not uncommon for a little kid to conflate the image of Father with the image of Jesus (though I think I avoided that one). I've known Fr. Les for nearly a decade, since he first came to Olds (probably the longest tenure in the same parish of any parish in this diocese), but there's always been this element of mystery.
I certainly still respect him and admire his priestly vocation, but I can see the human in him as well now. I can smile at some of his foibles. I can grimace at some of his liturgical oddities (perhaps more the parish's than his, if one thinks about it). And the more human he is--the more human any priest is--the more one can want to emulate them.
I've heard it said, more than once, that while proper philosophical and theological formation is extremely importance to a priest, it is his pastoral formation that is most important. A priest needs to be a catechist and a minister in his parish, yes. But he needs to be first and foremost a shepherd. The people of God will overlook many defects in their pastor if he gives his life in love for them. To quote St. Paul:
"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, but have not love, I gain nothing." -- 1 Corinthians 13:1-3
If I, as a priest, have not love, I have nothing.
As far as my part of the campaign went, I think it went fairly well. I didn't have to time to linger after Mass in Trochu, since we had to hie back to Olds almost immediately for the 11:15 Mass, but judging by the comments after the Olds Masses, I think I spoke fairly well. I more or less ad-libbed, using the provided text as an outline, rather than reading it word for word. Of course, it's always better if your eyes are visible to the audience/congregation, rather than out sight glancing down at a paper.
Naturally, close to a decade of dramatic training doesn't hurt. I have a clear, loud voice and I know how to project into the microphone (an obscure talent reserved only for the most gifted, it sometimes seems...). Consensus in the parish was that I'll make a fine homilist-- which is good, but as my main point was that we need money (and since I'll be here for another 7.5 years, this impacts me not a little), I hope that point will stick with them.
It was interesting, riding to and from Trochu with Fr. Les and Deacon Jim. Interesting if only because it was the first time that it really hit home that, yes, I am well on my way to being a priest, and not just one of the ordinary laity anymore. Well, I am technically still a lay person in terms of what I'm canonically allowed to do, but as a seminarian I am a cleric, if an unordained one.
It was also an interesting and upclose look at Father. As a little kid, of course, Father is this mightly and awesome figure. It's not uncommon for a little kid to conflate the image of Father with the image of Jesus (though I think I avoided that one). I've known Fr. Les for nearly a decade, since he first came to Olds (probably the longest tenure in the same parish of any parish in this diocese), but there's always been this element of mystery.
I certainly still respect him and admire his priestly vocation, but I can see the human in him as well now. I can smile at some of his foibles. I can grimace at some of his liturgical oddities (perhaps more the parish's than his, if one thinks about it). And the more human he is--the more human any priest is--the more one can want to emulate them.
I've heard it said, more than once, that while proper philosophical and theological formation is extremely importance to a priest, it is his pastoral formation that is most important. A priest needs to be a catechist and a minister in his parish, yes. But he needs to be first and foremost a shepherd. The people of God will overlook many defects in their pastor if he gives his life in love for them. To quote St. Paul:
"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, but have not love, I gain nothing." -- 1 Corinthians 13:1-3
If I, as a priest, have not love, I have nothing.
Friday, February 02, 2007
Scholastics
So, it's Recollection already... or silent retreat weekend, as it could also be known. Or, as I'm discovering, it's also been voted "Weekend Most Likely to Produce a Blog Post".
I think it's probably got something to do with the whole reflection aspect of Recollection. And, with me, anyway, introspection leads to realisations, leads to blogging.
Back within the month or so before the holidays, I had my follow-up meeting with Fr. Shayne (the seminary's rector) and the psychiatrist who did my evaluation (standard procedure for seminarians). There's no need or reason to go into all the sordid details of my life that were revealed-- save one. It came out in the testing, somehow, that I'm "very smart"... which Fr. Shayne warned me then could well mean that I'll get sent on to doctoral or liceniate studies, post-ordination.
Well, I liked the compliment about my intelligence as much as the next person, but to be perfectly honest... the thought of MORE than the eight years of study I've already got to work on did NOT appeal to me. It's part laziness, but it's also part humility. If not real humility, then some sort of faux humility. As a kid all I ever wanted to be was a parish priest... not a seminary formator, or a diocesan administrator... or anything.
The whole prospect of possibly going on to further studies lurked on the edge of my mind for a good month, maybe two, thereafter. I'll readily admit that it's foolish to have been thinking in 2006 about events that couldn't happen any sooner than 2014... but it was rather a foundation-shaking event. Though I didn't KNOW I was going to the seminary throughout high school, it was the default setting. Since I was about five, there was never another real expectation of what I'd do.
Well, I came back to Seminary at the start of January... and got my marks (a solid 4.0 average), and started classes again... and I started to get excited about classes. English, Sociology, and History were all gearing up to be spent on... my pastoral future, more or less. Not exactly, but something like that. Then there's religion (Intro to Christianity: easiest course I'll ever take, and rather useful in my field...) and Logic (the only course this semester towards my major). School was suddenly not looking so much like a bad thing, but an awesome thing.
Meanwhile, my reasonable side reasserted itself and told me that it was way too early to be worrying about being shipped off to doctoral studies, as I don't even have a Baccalaureate yet. The Archbishop was gone, so who knows what my bishop-to-be will decide to do with me? We don't even have a clue who he'll be, so far all I know, I won't get along with him, and he'll just keep me in the parish, or I will get along with him and he'll just keep me in the parish, or he'll ignore me, and I'll just stay in the parish. Basically, reason won out and reminded me that nothing's to be taken for granted, and one can still hope...
...even as my mind began to think that another stint at studies might be cool. Fr. Shayne's Rector's Conference a couple weeks ago didn't hurt that prospect either. It was a frank look at how stressful and overworked the modern priesthood is-- scary, but with God's grace, lovely.
Thank goodness my life isn't in my hands. I wouldn't know what's best for me.
I think it's probably got something to do with the whole reflection aspect of Recollection. And, with me, anyway, introspection leads to realisations, leads to blogging.
Back within the month or so before the holidays, I had my follow-up meeting with Fr. Shayne (the seminary's rector) and the psychiatrist who did my evaluation (standard procedure for seminarians). There's no need or reason to go into all the sordid details of my life that were revealed-- save one. It came out in the testing, somehow, that I'm "very smart"... which Fr. Shayne warned me then could well mean that I'll get sent on to doctoral or liceniate studies, post-ordination.
Well, I liked the compliment about my intelligence as much as the next person, but to be perfectly honest... the thought of MORE than the eight years of study I've already got to work on did NOT appeal to me. It's part laziness, but it's also part humility. If not real humility, then some sort of faux humility. As a kid all I ever wanted to be was a parish priest... not a seminary formator, or a diocesan administrator... or anything.
The whole prospect of possibly going on to further studies lurked on the edge of my mind for a good month, maybe two, thereafter. I'll readily admit that it's foolish to have been thinking in 2006 about events that couldn't happen any sooner than 2014... but it was rather a foundation-shaking event. Though I didn't KNOW I was going to the seminary throughout high school, it was the default setting. Since I was about five, there was never another real expectation of what I'd do.
Well, I came back to Seminary at the start of January... and got my marks (a solid 4.0 average), and started classes again... and I started to get excited about classes. English, Sociology, and History were all gearing up to be spent on... my pastoral future, more or less. Not exactly, but something like that. Then there's religion (Intro to Christianity: easiest course I'll ever take, and rather useful in my field...) and Logic (the only course this semester towards my major). School was suddenly not looking so much like a bad thing, but an awesome thing.
Meanwhile, my reasonable side reasserted itself and told me that it was way too early to be worrying about being shipped off to doctoral studies, as I don't even have a Baccalaureate yet. The Archbishop was gone, so who knows what my bishop-to-be will decide to do with me? We don't even have a clue who he'll be, so far all I know, I won't get along with him, and he'll just keep me in the parish, or I will get along with him and he'll just keep me in the parish, or he'll ignore me, and I'll just stay in the parish. Basically, reason won out and reminded me that nothing's to be taken for granted, and one can still hope...
...even as my mind began to think that another stint at studies might be cool. Fr. Shayne's Rector's Conference a couple weeks ago didn't hurt that prospect either. It was a frank look at how stressful and overworked the modern priesthood is-- scary, but with God's grace, lovely.
Thank goodness my life isn't in my hands. I wouldn't know what's best for me.
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