Evangelisation

I ended my last post on a self-query about the nature of presenting one's faith, and this theme recurred last night when we had an informal discussion with Archbishop Bohan, and the question of witness to the Faith came up, and again this morning in his conference where this came up again.

This has left me in a rather contemplative mood concerning my attitude towards sharing my faith online.

First, to examine what my actual practice has been, I tend to veer towards privacy, I suspect. Not in the sense that I keep my faith private, for I certainly make it well known that I am Catholic, and I would say indeed that, for most people who know me online, I am "The" Catholic--online, if not in their "real" lives. Partly, this is because I am a seminarian, but I would like to think that it's also because I am, and have always been, very knowledgeable about the Faith, and willing to spew it out to anyone who asks.

Nonetheless, I've always been a bit concerned about the fact that I really do try very hard not to offend the sensibilities of those who are not Catholic. On the one hand, it's very easy to justify this attitude to myself, given the knee-jerk reaction that any good Catholic tends to have towards fundamentalist evangelicals. Although there are many good, fervent believers in that stream of Christianity, with better prayer lives than I and more admirable faith, as a general way of life, they tend to be very simplistic--and rather "in your face."

Largely, I think this trend in Evangelical Christianity stems from its earlier American roots and a rejection of the intellectualism available in the Catholic and older Protestant traditions--a rejection more based in the fact that, as a grassroots, lower-class movement, the early evangelicals were not all that well-educated themselves, and so when encountering the "high-fallutin'" theologies of the other traditions, moved towards simplicity as their chief argument against them.

Now, as a Catholic, I come from a faith that can be put into very simple terms. This is a part of the beauty of it. One does not need to be a vastly intelligent academic to be Catholic, and the roster of the saints is full of some incredibly simple individuals. At the same time, however, the simplicity of the Faith does not limit it, and instead of being a tradition highly suspicious of science and reason, we are, I date to say, the most eminently rational religion in the world.

Lest I have the "Galileo episode" and "evolution" thrown in my face as evidence against the eminent rationality of the Catholic Church, I wish to clarify my position to the extent that, although the Catholic Church past and more presently, has found issues (justified to an extent in the case of evolution and unjustified ultimately in the case of Galileo) with various scientific and other rational theories, the issues presented have been themselves academic, rational issues, and not the simplistic Bible-thumping of the fundamentalists. Although not everyone may agree with the conclusions of our arguments, it would be idiocy to do us the indignity of saying that our arguments are unacademic and unreasonable.

Anyway, getting back to my original train of thought, as a Catholic I have a natural instinct to shy away from in-your-face evangelising--or proselytising, as it should really be known. Add to this the fact that I am a typical Canadian as well--and we have a very "don't rock the boat" mentality--and you get someone very much disinclined to go advertising his faith.

My approach, therefore, has always been to simply have an evangelisation of presence, of example. To borrow the phrase associated with St. Francis of Assisi: "preach always; use words if necessary." Archbishop Bohan's concluding message to us was much the same: "To those who know you, but do not know God, you must act in such a way that they will see God in what you do."

It was, of course, rather affirming to hear agreement with my own position, but I still wonder whether, perhaps, I might not be rather too complacent in my attitude. It is not that I think my approach is wrong, but rather that my application of it is poor. If the best way to evangelise is to demonstrate in my own day-to-day life what an awesome life it is to be in communion with God, in service to His church, and to be keeping His commandments; then I really ought to actually live my life in communion with God, in service to His church, and keeping His commandments. More importantly, I should not just keep my Christianity hidden away in a back pocket somewhere, just one aspect of me among many, no more obvious than my Tolkien affectations or my LEGO geekiness. Instead, it should be clear in everything I do that "I am a Catholic Christian. Jesus is the centre of my life, and He should be the centre of yours."

That last statement is one that I find hard to say. Not hard to believe! Hard to say. I have no trouble at all acknowledging that Jesus is the Alpha and the Omega, and that no one can come to fulfilment save through Him, but I instinctively shy away from judging anyone for anything--which is good.

What I think I need to realise more firmly here is that, in saying "you need to come to Jesus" is that I am not judging someone. Really, I'm not. I know perfectly well that there are all sorts of reasons someone hasn't come to God, and I'm entirely too aware of my own shortcomings in that field to be feeling "holier than thou" about it in any way, but I'm so timid about the idea of appearing judgemental that I won't even express what, ultimately, is an expression of love.

Seriously.

Jesus said "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me. If you believe in Me, you will not perish, but have Eternal Life."

God wants everyone. everyone. every single last person ever. to come to Him and love Him. He loves everyone with a passion so intense that He sent His only son to come and die for us. Not because we deserved it, for we certainly didn't, but because we needed it.

And although I am far from being holy enough that I actually feel, in the fibre of my being, that everyone should become Catholic out of my own love for them and concern, how can I possibly look at those around me, whom I love, and say that I do not want them to know Jesus?

I can't.

I may be weak and human and so unable to rouse myself yet to saintly passion for the conversion of the whole world, but I would be so utterly inhuman and remiss indeed if I did not desire that those I already love to know God and come to share eternal life with Him. If I may express it in the most banal of terms, Heaven will not be as awesome a place if all these atheist friends I love deny themselves the chance to go there, and it pains me to think that they are cutting themselves off from the source of eternal life.

It pains me more than if they were taking knives and slicing through their jugulars.

Moving out of one's comfort zone is hard, but I think it is a lot easier when done for love. As the Bible says, "for a good man, one might actually dare to die." For these good atheists, I might actually dare to live a better life myself. If I cannot rouse myself for my own sake to live the Christian calling, perhaps I can do it for love of them.

Subcreator

I've had a little more time this afternoon since Archbishop Bohan's conference than I did yesterday night, due to the time it takes my computer to turn on, and to email my parents about important stuff, so I've also had a little more time for his words to fade a bit from my mind--or to phrase that in a more flattering way, for the truly important parts to come clear.

Mostly, the Archbishop focused this afternoon on the "second creation" account in Genesis. Having come across a document in the Archives this summer that argued very passionately in what I consider to be the "Catholic fundamentalist" tradition, against the "two Creation accounts" thought regarding Genesis, I don't know how much credence I want to give either way to that idea... I certainly find myself put off by fundamentalist-Catholics, but on the other hand I'm wary of the "four sources" mentality that puts forward the "two Creation accounts" in the first place... so I'll go with a more spiritual middle ground and say God put forward them both with different purposes in mind.

Anyway, the compositional origins of the text are unimportant to what the Archbishop was saying...

Basically, distilled to its finest, His Grace was focusing on the relationship of God and humanity (perhaps the ongoing theme, if one recalls my last post), and how it was originally extremely intimate, familial--God and His created shared "one breath." He also focused on Man's creation "in the image and likeness of God" and this beautiful gift as, likewise, the source of our sins and woes ever since.

In essence, the Archbishop's words hit home, bouncing off the big red button labelled "that is so true!" Our desire to be like God, to be free from God, and in this modern, secular society to be free from any authority at all; is directly rooted in our nature "in the image and likeness of God." As the Archbishop pointed out, however, we tend to forget that we are NOT God, and go crazy with wanting to not only be in His image, but to be completely free of Him as well.

We can't do that. The created cannot freed itself from its reliance on the Creator. That is, if nothing else, completely embedded in Thomistic metaphysics, and the contrary opinion is behind all the self-destructive trends, past and present. In particular, though, I was definitely nodding away and hitting that big red button with regards to Archbishop Bohan's mentions of the western society we live in. We really do, as a culture, refuse to accept the boundaries laid down by authority. Certainly, this is endemic with regards to Divine Authority, as a glance at the issues of homosexual "marriage" and regular Church attendance--to say nothing of adherence to the teachings of the Church on other issues like contraception--will show without fail. However, this attitude is also prevalent in issues outside of the Church, but is true of society in general. We question the government's authority, we refuse to obey its laws (speeding...), we rebel against our parents, our teachers, and the institutions, such as the military, that emphasize discipline and authority are facing troubles recruiting.

It occurred to me, however, that this same disordered desire to "be like God" must, in fact, be a corruption of something good, if I want to adhere to the philosophical position put forward by Augustine, that evil, if it exists, must be the corruption of something good, since existence itself is good. It also occurred to me, moments later, that Tolkien had placed a great deal of time and effort into the idea of "subcreation." (I should mention, in the interests of full disclosure, that I have not been reading any great, theological literature so far this retreat, so much as I've been reading Tolkien. In my defence, I think there's no lack of applicable material in that particular field, however.)

Tolkien's idea of art as subcreation, however, also struck me immediately as ordered to a completely different end than the selfish desire to "be like God." To begin with, the very prefix "sub-" reminds us that Tolkien realised the place of subcreation as subsidiary to that of God's primary creation. Furthermore, although Tolkien continually repudiates the idea that his works have any allegorical meaning, and attempts to drive home the idea that they are stories told for the sake of the story, it seems nonetheless clear to me that Tolkien is not writing "art for art's sake."

This is borne out clearly in the "applicability vs. allegory" issue, since Tolkien goes to great lengths to show that, although not allegorical, and faithful firstly to its own inner consistency, the best story would be one that could be applied to any universal human situation. This is the "truth" that he speaks of in "On Fairy-Stories" as being contained in said stories. It is not a truth of "this is what actually happened" but a truth of "this is true of life."

By being "true to life," although Tolkien's subcreation is internally coherent first and not allegorical, it lacks any real kinship with the idea of "art for art's sake," which taken to its extremes divorces the artistic product from any representation of reality. Tolkien's work is stylised, but it remains a mirror for reality, whereas the grossest of modern art is so far removed from its origins it no longer represents anything, but has purpose only in the act of creation--and an act of creation is pointless and disordered if it has no purpose beyond itself.

And so we come to the end of my intertwined Tolkien and retreat train of thought... there was a great deal more in what the Archbishop said that I would have liked to have recalled, but I did not take notes--I should have, though, since he kept saying stuff that set off all checkmarks across the board.

It's at times like this, though, that I'm glad I have this extra blog. I don't want to get all preachy to people, and while I hope I've avoided "preachiness," I am definitely treading in the waters thereabouts... and in this philosophic mindset, I begin to wonder if maybe I shouldn't be a little "preachier."

Then I think about fundamentalist-Catholics....

Stand-in

I have just--and I literally mean just about "just"--come from the first conference of the annual opening retreat of the seminary year, and while I've had an exciting enough weekend moving back in, my muse has refused to enthuse at news. On the other hand, however, it responds to the lightest of touches from thought-provocations that occurred during Archbishop Bohan's first conference.

The chief thought, and the one I'm recording here, has to do with relationships. In speaking of our own relationships with Christ, the Archbishop noted that we generally only allow a very small number of people into our "personal space," emotionally speaking. We only allow a very few to come close enough to "touch us." The point of this, of course, is that if Jesus is to touch our lives, we must allow Him to be that close, to be within our very person, our personal space.

This thinking, however, sent me off on a tangent relating to how this connects to the sort of relationship priests have with their people. The thing that set me off was thinking that, in general, most of the people we allow to be really close to us, in our personal space, are people who allow us into theirs in return, and from a certain logical perspective, this is necessarily so. Looking at physical objects, if you move one into contact with another, it is impossible for only one to become close to the other, but both must become proximate to each other.

This rule of thumb, however, does not seem to hold much water when it relates to the relationships of priests, since priests are very often invited right into the heart of people's lives--often under the context of the Sacrament of Reconciliation, but in a broader sense as well. Unless they have had reason to think otherwise, people tend to be remarkably open and trusting of priests, and will confide in them, spill their woes to them, and ask help from them--often without hesitation. And it is most certainly not the norm for the priest to respond in like kind to his people, and, indeed, if the priest does have such close friends, his relationship is then entirely that of an individual person, and not that of a priest, particularly.

What this concludes with, then, is an out-of-the-blue, unexpected affirmation of the understanding of the priesthood that explains the role of the priest within the Christian community as that of an alter Christus. The priest, in a sense, is open to such remarkable trust because he stands in persona Christi. Likewise, however, the priest does not return this closeness because it is not a closeness that is shared with him as a person. The reciprocity of the closeness comes into play in the relationship of Christ and the Christian. Though the priest is a stand-in for Christ, he is most certainly not Christ himself.

Most definitely, this is no new doctrine... but it is always cool to have a familiar belief come at you from an angle which you never considered, and when the divine mysteries manifest themselves again and again in situations you'd never considered, it is, of course, nothing other than marvellous.

Weekend Woes

This weekend just past started a bit sooner than I was planning, when I came back into my room from brushing my teeth at 6:45 am to see that I'd missed a call on my cellular phone. Checking the message, I discovered it was from home, and my grandfather (who was in the hospital) had had a couple of seizures that night and was doing quite bad. They were calling the family in.

So I finished dressing, ate a rushed breakfast, called the Archives to say I wouldn't be in, threw my luggage into the car (I was already planning on going to Olds for the weekend, but not until after work), bought gas, and was off to Red Deer.

Arriving there, I joined Oma, my dad and his four siblings, two of the daughters-in-law, and one of my older cousins in the hospital, all of us having arrived expecting the worst, and after seeing Opa, I'm inclined to think it was well-warranted at the time. Opa looked pretty bad on Friday morning.

He ate breakfast on that morning though, and seemed to have stabilised after a rough, rough night. A bit shaken, the extended family broke up around noon. I went home and picked up my planned weekend a few hours early.

Meanwhile, my next oldest brother has been "moving" this month. It's been something of a glacial process because he really doesn't like change and he got talked into moving out a month early, while the rental market was still pre-back-to-school, so while he has a place and has been slowly moving stuff there, he's not exactly budging from Olds all that fast.

Anyway, I got caught up in this when he decided he should probably get a second load of stuff up to Red Deer while I was home, thus utilising my slave labour, helping him haul a truckload of boxes and a couch up two flights of stairs. Let me say that I'm glad I'm not around to "offer" any further assistance.

Not only is my brother moving to Red Deer, but our pastor of eleven years has been transferred to one of the parishes there, to the heartache-laden trauma of my nine-year-old sister, whose distress I've attempted to allay somewhat by telling her about the new priest (who I know somewhat from St. Albert), but she has more less refused to be consoled. Personally, I give it about a month before she discovers that Fr. Maurice is an awesome priest, but in the meantime I'm just as glad not to be at home this week.

We stopped in to visit Opa again before leaving Red Deer on Sunday, after unloading my brother's stuff and going for supper, and he looked amazingly better--almost back to normal. Weak, yes, but talking and sitting up and eating (in his own words) "to beat the ban".

This is the problem, if I may call it that, with calling the family in where Opa is concerned... he's got more lives than the average cat. He survived a colostomy six years ago that came right on the heels (>48hrs) of an aneurysm surgery, which is as nasty as an open heart surgery. They actually sent him home to die a month after that, but no sooner had he gotten back into his own bed and started drinking some iced cappuccinos than he began to slowly recover.

His problem right now is dialysis... His kidneys are almost completely shot, after a couple years of kidney trouble, and he started that this week, after getting the stents earlier this year, and I think (from the sounds of it) that the chief problem this week was the shock to his system, which is supposed to be really nasty to begin with. You also tend to lose some blood in the process, because the cleaning breaks down some of the blood cells. Whatever the case, it gave us quite the scare...

The thing is, it's only a matter of time. Opa's in sound mind and about as active as his increasingly limited stamina will permit, but his kidneys are simply the only organs that have actually failed. At age 85, everything else is worn out and who knows how close to following suit. All it takes is one little push and the whole system will cascade.

Personally, I don't think that's such a bad scenario. At 85, no one can say he's not had a full life and he's avoided senior's homes and such completely. If he slides into the afterlife in the next few months I'd call it more of a perfect ending than a tragedy, though definitely liable to cast a blue cloud over the family for a while. In the meanwhile, however long Opa has, I'm a little bit jumpier over his prospects than usually, and I'll be eyeing the voicemail suspiciously for a while. If I don't have cause to go home until Thanksgiving, that's probably a good sign indeed.

Same Old, Some New

It is now the third time since I started this blog that I'm logging in to post and report that, although my team had some good games, we ultimately lost out completely in the World Bunnock Championship tournament in Macklin, Saskatchewan. Every year, all sorts of diverse descendants, in-laws, and friends of the Russian-German pioneers of that part of the country flock back to their ancestral homeland to compete in what, on face value, looks like a really silly game.

I can now add a sixteenth notch to my non-corporeal belt in recognition of sixteen such world championships attended (out of a total of 16), but despite seven years or so of attempting it, I'm still waiting for the first notch to indicate winning something. Anything. Even the bottom prize in the "D" Consolation event is beyond reach it seems.

The irony in the whole issue of doing equally abysmally for each of the half dozen years or more that I've been playing is that I've definitely improved in skill, and my team was good in general this year. Actually, all my family played well, despite less practice than ever. We all lost out, totally, though. It wasn't that we didn't win ANY games, it was that we never won them back to back; you'll never advance in the tournament if you can't win back-to-back.

Still, it was a great weekend, as always. My brother, sister, cousin, and I played together, the first year I've been on a team entirely in more-or-less my peer group (I'm the oldest of the team, but a four year, six day gap between my and my sister beats previous years with the younger siblings and parents), and it was our cousin's first time playing at Macklin. We had a good time--especially teasing my sister!

As good as it was, it's hard for the most part to come up with particulars about the weekend that stood out. For me, a part of what makes the tournament so attractive is its sameness from year to year. It functions as something of a reunion as you get to see the same parcel of cousins (some more, some less) that quite often you don't get to see otherwise. It's part pilgrimage, in that the Saturday night Mass is always one of the religious highlights of the year for me, and gathered as half the congregation is from across western Canada, there's definitely a similarity. No, if it weren't for an unexpected connection, there'd be little particular to this year to note, other than the fact that it was extremely windy all weekend. I enjoyed that, since it really cooled off the heat, which would have been extreme otherwise, but it made it a little dusty and some people really didn't care for it.

However, my Macklin report does not end there because, in fact, I was to be surprised to make an unanticipated connection back to the Eucharistic Congress.

Now, it really shouldn't have been all that unanticipated, since I had run into a couple in Quebec who had Macklin roots, and indeed the husband had claimed to have been to all the tournaments as well--and indeed, once he said he was from Macklin, I immediately recognised him as one of the Stangs (distant relatives. More importantly, since that's true of everyone in the tournament, a rather prominent name in the Bunnock field). So I wasn't entirely unsurprised when I caught sight of him later on Saturday afternoon. He didn't recognise me at first, but the guy sitting beside him, who I did NOT recognise, had also been at the Congress, recognised me, and we renewed our acquaintances briefly, and that was that.

I should also mention that on Saturday morning I noticed a priest walking around sporting a Belgian flag. At the opening ceremonies at noon, he was put front and centre as an international guest, and, while interested, I didn't think too much of it, since we've had Australians, Japanese, and British players turn up before. The fact that Fr. Fredrick was, in fact, a priest, was a bit surprising, but I didn't think about it, since this was Macklin and the whole town is Catholic (or so the majority makes it feel. These are my ancestral roots, after all).

It was a surprise, therefore, to be coming out of the pew at the end of Mass on Saturday evening and to look back and see another face from the Eucharistic Congress. There was no mistaking her, however, since I had spent a week close enough to floor that I'd become familiar with seeing the same volunteers everyday, and since the St. Joseph's seminarians had been the only group of pilgrims to eat at the same cafeteria as the Youth Service volunteers, I was quite confident.

So in a rather unlike-the-usual-shy-Michael approach, I went over and asked if she had been at the Eucharistic Congress as a volunteer and upon an affirmative answer, I introduced myself, and asked what she was doing in Macklin. Her companion (if I recall aright, one of a group of CCO (Catholic Campus Outreach)-related people there) had recognised me from the Congress, though I had to confess I didn't recognise him (at least not at the moment, though in hindsight I do think he was familiar, though certainly not enough to have said where from... if not Macklin).

Anyway, it turns out that she had been coming to Macklin for three or four years, having been dragged out via the CCO connection by the same Stang that I had already run into both in Quebec and in Macklin. The Eucharistic Congress connection went farther, however, because it turned out that Fr. Fredrick was himself out in Macklin as a result of the Congress, having been loaned to the Archdiocese of Quebec and having met the volunteers at the Congress. He had come out to Saskatoon for some of his summer holidays, and it was apparently decided that he simply had to come out and try Bones (I agree, he simply had to try).

Though it didn't absorb great chunks of my weekend to any extent, this chance encounter really made my weekend--quite possibly because of the above-mentioned pilgrimage aspect I associate with Macklin. To discover a connection back to the spiritual highwater mark of my summer, as well as to see that people like CCO employees and Eucharistic Congress volunteers love the tournament as much as I do is totally awesome, if only because it means I'm not crazy.

It also meant that, on Sunday night, I was able to get the right connections to find out about the extra-ordinary Mass on Monday morning. Extra-ordinary in the sense of "out of the ordinary", since Monday is pastor's day off, so there's normally no Mass, but Fr. Fredrick was willing to do one. I wouldn't have known otherwise, however, and since it wasn't a regular Mass, I wouldn't have known the time if I hadn't been able to make contact on Monday morning.

As it turned out, that was almost as awesome a Mass as the Saturday night one. There was pretty much the full musical complement--more than a typical weekday Mass, certainly, and probably a special tribute to the occasion, and because Monday was the Feast of St-Jean-Marie-Baptiste Vianney, I was extra-pleased to be able to get to Mass, since he's both the patron saint of pastors (and so something of a favourite saint for this seminarian) as well as the saint whose name I chose for Confirmation. Fr. Fredrick is also quite a funny preacher. Rather quiet and dry, but still making jokes in his slow English. If he were really fluent, I suspect he'd be hilarious.

So all in all, it was an awesome weekend. I drove my cousin back home, since she's from the Edmonton area, and my family was headed back to Olds. Then I got stuck at my aunt and uncle's for most of the evening, only getting home at midnight last night, but that wasn't so back. I love spending time with family, and this is a branch of it I haven't been around as much as I'd like (which is actually true of every branch, I think...). We also stopped in on the way back to visit Grandma, which was also good, since it's been a few months, and my cousin is off to Ontario for the next year and so this is probably the last such visit for a while.

What with meeting the Eucharistic Congress connection and having a cousin there for the first time, I took to thinking to myself on Sunday afternoon about what it would be like to have the different Barrow-downers out there, but as much as I think all Barrow-downers would enjoy playing Bones (objections to the idea of playing with parts of dead horses notwithstanding), I don't think the tournament would work for all of them. Although, to be honest... I've seen people dragged out there that loved it, despite the odds. Still, I think I know enough about some 'Downers that I could probably generalise...

The Finns, I decided first, would end up loving it. This struck me as momentarily odd, because the tournament is rather redneck in some aspects, but the more I think about it, the more I agree--but they'd have to be there en masse.

Rune would really like it. You get to randomly meet people all day. There's lots of partying and drinking (though I do suspect he'd consider the beer quality rather indiscriminate) and an active, party atmosphere. Just as long as he didn't talk politics...

Jay, I don't think, would like it. Maybe with the right crowd to hang out with he'd enjoy observing some of it, but I really can't see him getting into the spirit of it that much. And I don't think it's the fact that he's Hindu (though the tournament is definitely, as a rural Saskatchewanian event, pretty whitewashed), so much as the fact that he's an Oxford intellectual.

Fea would dislike it for similar reasons as Jay, though not the same. There would also, I think, be an element of dislike for being around the large crowds all the time, and where the boorish redneckness might amuse and inflame Jay, I think Fea would just dislike it generally.

The Phantom is also hard to picture at Macklin... though I could see him enjoying it well enough if he had a team of his friends. And I can definitely see him being the accomplished player.

Mithalwen is the sort who would enjoy it if it was her family... but it isn't, so I really can't see her getting into it... though I think I could be wrong. It's also possible that she'd really enjoy it, if playing with a team of friends.

This is about where I stopped... not so much because I couldn't do mental analyses (right or wrong) on any other 'Downers, but because I think I got distracted or had a game to play or something, and I never picked up the thread again. I would now, but I'm just a bit too tired. What with getting home at midnight and having my usual early morning before work, I was really sluggish today...

Scattered Thoughts

It's been a fertile month for "oh, I should blog that!" moments, though the moments of actually still having the interest in blogging anything once I reach the computer have been quite a bit fewer. All the same, here's a few of the ones I remember:

1.) I have the travel bug BAD this summer... really bad. And I don't think I can blame it on Quebec and Idaho having whetted my appetite. After those two trips, I wanted to be on the go... visit Downers, hit the road, cross a few borders... it wasn't so much that I wanted to go anywhere particular, as that I wanted to go.

Now I want to go to England... or Rome... or Australia... or England...

I blame working in the Archives.

The problem there is that I've been reorganising the bishops' correspondence with the other bishops, and there is quite a bit of travel-related talk in there. Of course, it's not that the bishops were travelling all that time--quite a lot of the letters simply say "thanks for the invite, but I'm busy confirming that weekend", but the fact of the matter is that, for the most part, the bishops write each other infrequently enough and live far enough away from each other, that the topic of travel comes up very frequently as both a reason for writing and as a common ground (eg. running into each in Rome on an [i]ad limina[/i] visit or at a synod or something). And, given the infrequency of letters, this leads to a distorted emphasis on travel in the episcopal correspondence, from the viewer's point of view--or at least this viewer.

What this has succeeded in doing, besides the general effect of honing my wanderlust, is to re-emphasize my nomadic priorities: Rome and England more or less neck-and-neck, followed by a general desire for western and northern Europe (the climes of Middle-earth, so to speak), then Europe and the Caribbean in general, then diverse parts of the Pacific and Oceania, then Canada and the States, and then the world at large... an idiosyncratic priority list basically based on personal curiosities, world politics, and familiarity.

2.) Last summer, as August approached, I started looking forward to returning to classes. Not seminary, so much (I was indifferent there), as to university proper. Orientation and the subsequent return to school had me happier than I'd been in a long time...

This year, it's the opposite. While I'm indifferent to returning to Concordia (I seem to have gotten through my academic fatigue, thankfully), I'm really looking forward to being back in seminary. Here, I think Quebec may have been partly to blame, as well as the fact that in general I've seen more of the seminarians this summer by far than I did last year, but that doesn't explain it all. I'm not just looking forward to a return to the seminarians, but a return to the community routine: morning prayer, breakfast, Mass, evening prayer, group meetings, community meetings, choir practices, evening prayer, retreats...

In a sense, given that my wanderlust has worked in tandem with a very willing willingness to study abroad, this is kind of odd... but not a problem, by any means.

3.) My Barrow-downs compatriots will be pleased to know that I've been the chief instigator in turning a half-dead, ought-to-have died thread foolishly connecting Middle-earth and the newest LEGO castle line, on the Classic-Castle forum, into a rather serious (if not quite Books Forum standard) debate on Tolkien.

4.) I really do look forward to being older. And not just "mid-twenties" older, or "middle-aged" older, but rather "ready to retire after a long service" older. Granted, I take a romanticised view in which I'm still mobile, relatively healthy, and have my mental faculties... but that's hardly any worse than the more socially accepted romanticisms about youth, is it? One odd thought that did occur to me, though, in this connection, is that I would love to end up in a Barrow-downer retirement home. I mean, most of us will all hit old age within the same half decade... Given our failing eyesight and unsteadiness on the roads, how else will we stay in touch.

5.) I am inordinately pleased with myself for having discovered that spending $110 dollars on five different LEGO sets is vastly more satisfying than spending $105 on a single set. Really, it's inordinate.

Pastor?

In all my years of wanting to be a priest (and we're getting on close to two decades of that), my main vision of the priesthood has always been of the parish priest, the pastor, and this was always where I figured God was calling me. This makes sense, given that in Olds there's never been a priest who wasn't a parish priest, and the life of the pastor is not without appeal. It is, in a sense, the heart and soul of the priesthood.

When I went to seminary, two years ago (whoa! That long...), it began to dawn on me--living with 5 non-parish priests and in the big city where there were other such--and I began to contemplate what it would be like to have such a role--and I really didn't like the idea. I figured I could do it, that I'd certainly not be brokenhearted and depressed if I ended up a professor, or a chancellor, or a bishop... but that wasn't what I wanted. Worse, as a smart student (and I am, let there be no mistake about that), there seemed to be a pretty good chance that I'll end up going on for further studies at some point, which is the natural launching point for such a turn of events.

Well, two years later--two years of really enjoying academia, of thinking seminary formating isn't such a bad gig, and working in the archives where you get to see the bishops and chancellors up close and personal, and then a trip to the Eucharistic Congress where there's a lot of episcopal purple walking around, and all of a sudden the idea of a not-so-pastoral job doesn't look so bad.

Of course, this is about the same time that my more pessimistic, less self-assured side kicks in and starts whining that there's no way I'll get sent on for further studies; that there's lots of other smart seminarians in Edmonton, ones with more interest in such things, and if you ask then you're clearly an ambitious, proud snob.

Now, that is all more or less bad reasoning, but it still brought up a good point for me to consider, namely whether, if that didn't transpire, I'd be happy in the parish. For a couple weeks/months, I've kind of wondered, caught up as I've been, between the Congress and the Archives, in the wonderful wide world of the bishops. I'm aware that a lot of my infatuation with it has had to do with the travelling bishops get to do--and all the pictures of them in their cool cassocks--and I've certainly been smitten with the travel bug this summer; I want to travel like it's nobody's business.

Tonight, I got my answer. At Mass tonight, Fr. Stephan was presiding, and it was an ordinary, weekday crowd, and after Mass I went for my (starting this week as a habit... we'll see how it goes) daily walk, when one of the parishioners came up behind me on his bike and chatted a bit before moving on, and I realised that, yes, if you get right down to it, I still want to be a pastor of some kind... though it may not be as a parish priest.

Furthermore, as I continued walking, I realised also that what I really, REALLY am drawn to in the priesthood is the sacraments: celebrating baptisms, marriages, and funerals... anointing the sick... hearing Confessions... and especially celebrating the Eucharist. It doesn't matter where I end up in the priesthood, this will still be the central focus of it all.

I've always said, whatever my preferences, when I'm ordained (and before), I'll go where I'm told, as joyfully as I can, and I meant it. I still do, but it's comforting all the same to know that most of the options the archbishop will have in that matter all look pretty good.

Mid-Month Meanderings

It is 10:00 at night, and I have a while before my laundry is dry, and I've exhausted all the usual websites, and I've been ambitious enough for one night, as far as fiction writing is concerned, and I've even gone for a half hour walk (ambitious exercise for sedentary me), so I've finally, after two weeks of thinking about it, got the necessary motivation to put down a few thoughts in the old blog.

First of all, it occurred to me today, as I ate supper sitting in an easy chair in my bedroom, reading what happened on Werewolf since I died, that I have all the makings of being an excellent bachelor. I'm a bit particular, rather eccentric, lax in my housekeeping habits, and inclined toward creature comforts. All I need is perhaps a bit less LEGO around my bedroom and you've got the makings of a very bachelor-esque appearance.

Secondly, in further thoughts resulting from my trip down to Idaho, it occurs to me that, most unfairly, I am pretty much incapable of hosting any sort of a recipient visit--from anybody. I simply do not have the property to put anybody up, and it's a pretty sorry tale when you invite someone and say "well, I'm glad to have you and all, but I can't offer you a place to stay... but if you want to pay $100 a night, there's a hotel just down the street..."

Now, it's not that Edmonton is particularly exotic, and as far as being likely to be visited, I am expecting exactly zero Barrow-downers to turn up at my door. If nothing else, I lack a nice central location from which others can be visited. Instead, I'm really on the fringe of the continent, 'Downerwise. The west is sparsely populated to begin with, and I'm on the northern end (not as far north as the Alaskans... but they're quite, quite a bit to the west of here). If someone were to visit, they'd pretty much have to be just here to visit me.

It's the principle of the matter, really. What this is really indicative of is the completeness with which my life is handed over to the service of God's people. By living at the seminary, and at the rectory in the summer, I'm no longer my own person--and I'm no longer my own host. Looked at this way, it's easy enough to reconcile myself to the idea that I likely won't have any guests for quite some time (let's say ten years... it might be that long ere I have my own parish).

At the same time, it really does make an excellent excuse for me foisting myself on other 'downers, and right now I'm still travel-bug-bitten enough that this is a good thing from my point of view.

Thirdly, also 'Downer-related... in my earlier attempts this evening to avoid work, I was reading a conversation between Lommy and Nilp on Facebook, and was somewhat envious of the fact that they have 'Downer siblings. I felt, oddly, quite alone. This is nonsense, of course, since I have a larger family than pretty much every 'Downers I know, and I've got a good relationship with all of them, and plenty of shared interests, including Tolkien. But it's a mark of how much the 'Downs figures into my mental landscape to see that the lack of "real" family there matters to me. Perhaps this is why I've adopted a little sister (well... among other reasons, if so). It's an established fact about myself that I've discovered: I really like family, and tend to put those dear to me into the mental boxes, anyway, of family members, and as recipients of the same loyalty.

Brinniel & Boise, Part II

Driving down was no placid, leisurely pleasure (though it could have been), but was a rather anxious day, growing ever the more anxious as the day wore on. A part of it was the fact that, as a virtually first-time Canadian in the States, I was hypersensitive to every little difference from home (and they really are little…), and just felt generally uneasy. This may say more about Canada-US relations that anything else, because Montana and Idaho are definitely more similar to Alberta than Quebec is, but I felt more at home in Quebec than I did south of the 49th Parallel.

Mind you, there was also general background anxiety… I was utterly terrified that I was making a mistake, that I was going to get there and make a horrible first impression. In general, this nervousness is nothing more than a general tendency of mine to be both rather shy and a bit too much of a tendency to run through worst-case scenarios. By the time I pulled into Boise, I was not only shivering from lack of food and cold air-conditioning over the hands, but I had practically convinced myself that Brinniel and/or her parents were going to utterly hate me and/or the my car was going to die a horrible death, probably taking me with it.

Anyway, I pulled into Brinniel’s driveway, phone in that I think I’m there, and within a minute, Brinn’s standing in the doorway, clearly recognisable as that face from Facebook, and the tension eases, I meet the family, and all is well: I’m not a socially inept nervous wreck, Brinn and her parents and quite normal and very hospitable, and my car is not a burning wreck somewhere like Pocatello. In short, all my irrational fears, all of which I had known as I thought them as irrational, were clearly demonstrated to be baseless.

I’m still not entirely sure, even having done it now, how one is supposed to “meet” a Downer. I mean… do you treat it like a first time introduction, formally and with bows and hand shaking? Or do you go to the other extreme and not even bother with introductions? Or do you go with the emotional end, embracing and wild? We went more or less down the middle, felt just a tiny bit awkward, and then got onto the business at hand… which, if memory serves, was late night refreshments, pet talk, and Europe comparisons that night.

Was Brinniel what I expected her to be? If I have to limit it to one word… “no.” However, I’m not exactly sure what I expected. The girl I met was certainly the one in all the Brinniel pictures, knew all the references in the Brinniel posts, and fit all the known trivial facts. She was neither (overall) more mature or less mature than the Brinniel online. And yet… she was quite a bit different. Although she was the girl in the pictures, instantly recognisable, she did not look like them (I know, I know… 2D image of a 3D person, but still…). She sounded every bit as American/un-American/Downergirlish as she ought to have, and not quite what I expected—even though I still don’t know what I did expect. Perhaps the best way of expressing it is not to say that I found the secret identity, the real person beneath the Brinniel mask, but rather that I felt like I had discovered the superhero identity of someone I only knew the real version of… as if, in a Downs-centred world, the “real” Brinniel is the one online, and the flesh-and-blood Brinniel was the front created to save the world. It was as if Brinniel in person reminded me too much of people that I know and not enough of avatars and text posts.

Of course, there was plenty of thought going on in my mind about the oddity that is the Barrow-downs, the oddity of all these random people coming together and building such a strong community. It struck me as particularly odd that I would drive 16 hours from Edmonton to spend a weekend with a girl I’ve never met, when a similar sort of weekend would probably never occur with “real” acquaintances and friends except some of the very closest. I’ve noted before, back when I worked at Panago and had no life, that the Barrow-downs friends are often closer and longer-lasting than most others.

And all because of a book? Somehow, that seems not quite right. Tolkien may have dragged us all in, and certainly there’s a genuine fan in most of us, but it’s not the Lord of the Rings that gives us this community… it’s the people themselves. In my own case, it’s the time spend Werewolfing, and subsequent private messaging, and then the leap to instant messaging. Many of these Downers were better friends before they ever posted a picture online or gave out a full name on Facebook than people I’ve known since Grade 3. And that, I think, may have been part of the reason why I was so terrified about meeting Brinn, given that I was definitely smart enough to know that people in person are not the same as people online. After all, I’ve definitely had enough mental misconceptions thrown horribly out of whack by the Pictures Page (right, Lhuna?). Knowing this, there’s the uneasiness that maybe… what if someone who’s seems a good, funny person online turns out to be mean and self-centred in person.

I need not have worried. Brinniel is every bit as fun and hospitable in person as online—maybe even more so. The sense that one gets from the “I met a BDer!” thread about all the Downers who meet each other being really nice people, and fun to hang out with is, at least in Brinniel, totally true.

Now, the upshot of this awesome experience is that I, 100%, totally want to meet as many ‘Downers as possible. And while, with a couple exceptions (Oddwen, Gil-galad, Valier…) this is definitely not possible this year, I’ve got wild-eyed dreams for next summer, involving either a trip to Europe or a grand tour of North America. Not only did I get myself pumped up for Werewolf, but I’m pumped up for everything ‘Downsian in a way I haven’t been in two years. I mean, I’ve been more active this spring than I have in some time, so this is not a spontaneous trend… I might not have even met Brinniel if I hadn’t been able to spend more time online, but the interest has multiplied hugely as a result of the trip.

Finances are a big reason for not getting too optimistic about next year. After all, gas is going up, so drive or fly… it’s only going to get more expensive. Then there’s also logistics, such as planning around a job and ordinations and such…

But…

There’s a wee bit of hope in there too, and I wouldn’t trample it just yet. After all, I REALLY enjoyed this weekend, and REALLY want to do similar things again.

Next time, I’ll just be paranoid about the car, though.

Brinniel & Boise, Part I

Well, I’m back… If you’re wondering where I was, then I guess you didn’t pick up on subtle hint (which Lhuna DID get) a few posts back about going down to Idaho sometime this summer. Indeed, 16 hours of driving from Edmonton and two days of work off, and I had my first meeting with a real, flesh-and-bones Barrow-downer (I’m actually just guessing about the bones… closest that I saw were teeth).

The Barrow-downer resident of Idaho, is Brinniel (her ‘Downs username, that is), where she lives between school years with her parents. That’s perhaps a sufficient enough résumé; despite the obscure corner of the Internet occupied by this blog and the probable prior knowledge of anyone like to read it, it’s not my personal information be sharing. And, in any case, on the same assumption that all readers know who Brinniel is, I can save time on what’s fairly sure to be a rather long tour indeed of thoughts and recollections of what occurred this weekend.

My extra-long weekend started with me booking off Friday, and heading out to Olds from Edmonton after work on Thursday. I had originally hoped to stay the night in more southern Alberta, and so cut more time off my Friday drive, but the former seminarian I had hoped to stay with ended up being out of town.

Anyway, I woke up at 4:00 am on Friday, and was on the road before 5:00. I crossed the border just prior to 9:00—my first trip to the States since I was nine, my first trip outside Canada in three years, and my first solo trip driving outside Alberta. Not particularly scary—as far as the driving went.

It was, indeed, a beautiful day to drive, and a beautiful drive. It was sunny, there was a relatively quiet four-lane highway all the way, and Montana and Idaho have some great scenery—a little alien to one convinced that Alberta is the most beautiful region on earth, but perhaps more appreciable for my being a stranger.

By 6:00 pm I had rounded the curve going west instead of south, and the sun was descending into my eyes, which made for a good hour of rather stressed driving, at its peak (well, actually, it was quite low by then…). By the time the sun had set, I was in the Boise area, and by 10:00 I had pulled up into the driveway and shook hands awkwardly with my first real Barrow-downer.

Then I met her parents, and then Brinn and I proceeded to stay up until past midnight, talking, and then a very tired Formendacil (aka, “me”) went to bed (Brinniel, as is not really to be surprised at, given the habits of Barrow-downers in general, is something of a night owl).

Saturday morning dawned very sunny, and the first of three days of 100+ degrees of Fahrenheit weather. As a Canadian, I should be able to do the conversion… but I can’t, which is sad, because I think in Celsius. However, it was definitely hot. The curious Canadian or European can always look it up, I’m sure.

Due to two sleeping-in Downers, we didn’t get started on Saturday until after lunch. Saturday, as it happened, was Brinn’s birthday, so the plan for the evening was dinner out with her parents, presents, and cake. In the meantime, however, Brinn and I spent Saturday afternoon (and into the evening) at a number of summery sorts of past-times. I beat her score in mini-golf by about 15 strokes (didn’t count how many strokes it actually took, but I did keep an eye on who was ahead), after which she proceeded to beat me on the arcade motorcycles, and we both lost at laser-tag. In like manner did the afternoon pass and the evening, and then it was 9:00 and we were out for supper.

Supper faded into dessert, and dessert faded into late-night grocery shopping, and that faded into near-midnight present opening and cake eating. Having known beforehand of the occasion, I did not come unprepared, but if people want to know what I got Brinn, they’d be better off stalking her blog than mine. Not that there was anything particularly spectacular about it, but it was well picked, nonetheless.

Anyway, sometime after midnight it was bedtime again, and next thing you know, it’s Sunday morning, and we’re going separate ways: Brinn’s family to their church, and myself to St. John’s Cathedral, because… well, because I’m a seminarian and a geeky one at that, so I can’t resist seeing what should be the finest church in any given diocese. Boise didn’t disappoint. St. John’s had an impressive façade and an ornate, neo-Renaissance-like interior. The windows were a trifle purplier than I would have put in, but still beautiful, and they did a good job with the post-Vatican II altar. Best of all, they were still using the pipe organ in the loft, so there was booming organ music for Mass (almost—if possible—too much).

Back to Brinn’s in time for lunch, then on to an afternoon mostly spent at the theatre, watching Prince Caspian, which I had not previously seen (a good choice, because it was again extremely hot). Brinniel had already seen it, but after having seen it myself, I can definitely agree that it would be worth going to a second time. Despite having played more loosely with the story, I really enjoyed it—possible more than LWW, although given that I have a relationship with the books such as has seen me change my favourites constantly throughout the years, I wouldn’t put much long-term money on either being a permanent favourite in my mind.

That evening, with Brinn’s parents, we went to the local Shakespeare festival’s production of the not-a-Shakespeare-play-at-all production of The Crucicble, by Arthur Miller, which was very well done. Thereafter it was back home, and (I think) the earliest night of the weekend, sometime before midnight.

Monday morning was supposed to be an earlier start, with a trip to the zoo (and most notably for ‘downers, the penguins), but I didn’t get up until 9:30, and Brinniel was a full two hours later. Since she had an appointment in mid-afternoon, it was a lazy noontime, during which we fully reminisced Werewolf games, and I basically talked myself into playing the next one. Later, once Brinn was back from her appointment, we were off to the zoo (and especially the penguins).

After that, we were back home, playing a rather odd Trivial Pursuit game (odd more in the sense of the questions we got and our successes thereat than in the actual game play), which I won very narrowly indeed after a shaky start. During this time, supper was slowly started, and it was 10:00 before we started eating. After that was photo shoot time—I’d taken a few pictures over the weekend, and Brinn had her camera out as well, but photo documentary evidence that we had met was still lacking. After that, we watched Hot Fuzz, and so I welcomed Canada Day to the tune of British humour deep in the United States of America. Then I went straight to bed, while Brinniel decided to stay up until I arose, so as to have a greater chance of seeing me off (night owl that she is, it’s not much past her bedtime these weeks of late).

I’m not sure how worth her while it was… I was pretty boring between 5:00 and 5:30, but I certainly appreciated it. Next thing you know, I’m on the road, and Canada Day Tuesday disappears in 3-4 hour increments as I crawl back up the Interstates to my home and native land. What with a detour around Lethbridge to avoid the state of emergency that was declared there, I made it back to Olds around 9:15, so in better time than my trip down had taken, and the adventure was officially over… although I didn’t get back to Edmonton until this morning, when I got up extra early to drive into the city in time for work, adding another couple ours to my mounting sleep debt.

And that’s the basics of the trip… it covers quite well what actually happened, but it barely scratches the surface of the story.

Back From Quebec

I'm still utterly drained from getting way too little sleep last night, from switching time zones, and from having had a really full week in general, but while I'm getting about ready to head to bed, I feel I should probably get some thoughts down about the Eucharistic Congress while I still have the passion for it. It was entirely too important and central to my entire year to pass over.

In case it's not crystal clear already, let me state that it was the most awesome week of my life. It had everything: good company, awesome catechesis, beautiful liturgies, spiritual revelations, exotic locales, gorgeous churches, awe-inspiring music... the list just goes on and on.

I spent most of the week in the company of Roger, Matthew, and/or Paul, three of the other seminarians from St. Joseph Seminary, and for me especially, it was really good to spend a lot of time with my brothers, since because I go to Concordia I really don't get the same kind of bonding time during the regular school year. And we had a hoot, let me assure you.

But I would also wander off on my own, hang out with Edmonton pilgrims, meet new people. Indeed, that was another awesome part of the Congress: it was like a giant family in some respects. Everyone was willing to talk to (or try, at least) everyone else, and despite its size (25,000 registered people), it was still possible to keep bumping into the same people over and over and over again. The religious brothers and sisters, in particular, were amazing to see, with young vocations in their habits, visible signs of the sanctity of the Church.

But at the centre of everything, of course, was the Eucharist. We had Mass daily, there was adoration available in multiple churches and chapels throughout the city, and on Thursday we had a massive Eucharistic procession through the city. It was so large, in fact, that the end of the procession was barred from continuing into the old city. That unfortunately included my group, but even so... we had an awesome evening stumbling on a massive art-piece movie that played nightly along the side of the grain terminals in the harbour, commemorating the 400th anniversary of the province.

And the heritage of Quebec City is itself amazing. It was like being back in Europe... except it was in Canada. And it is so thoroughly Catholic in its history. Churches dot every skyline, many of them, and the city is full of old convents. Of course, this means that the drop in numbers at the church is all that more sharply illuminated, but coming from the prairies, it is awesome to see somewhere so monolithically Catholic in its visual aesthetic.

Can you tell I had an awesome trip?

Privacy Issues

It's been an interesting summer thus far, make no mistake, and according to the calendar, it hasn't even started yet. The first three weeks, right enough, were simply jam-packed with school and so didn't have much going on, but already in the two weeks since I've been hitting moment after moment of deep, thought-provoking material, here inside my skull.

One particular note that has struck me in the last week goes back to a comment in Winnipeg about Fr. Geoffrey, in regards to how tired he would be after a weekend of ordination and first Masses, and SO many people congratulating him, especially given how much of an introvert he is. Okay, nothing I didn't know before... but then in conjunction with this my mind made a random connection when I was reading about C.S. Lewis, also this week, and how he was an immensely private individual. The author was making the connection with the recurring motif in the Narnia chronicles of Aslan telling people no story but their own, and this struck a chord with me.

I was reminded, in fact, of my blogs. Each of my "blogs" (to use the term a bit loosely) caters to a different audience. Facebook, the most recent, is pretty much open to everybody, but simply because of its broad nature, it tends get the "real-life" comments about my life, whereas LiveJournal gets the full brunt of my internet-related life. And while I'm more than willing to let the LiveJournal crowd spill over into Facebook, never have I let on to anyone in real life about LiveJournal (well, siblings and parents know about it, but that's from shoulder-reading more than any online connection). As for this blog, although I've cross-posted a couple posts with Facebook (and other ones with LJ), I've never linked to it either. This one is also more focused on internet-friends, but it's less focused on them. The posts on LJ are very much audience-oriented, which typically translates into lack of content, or into sporadic rants. Blogspot, however, is where I go to work out my thoughts. If people read it, then fine--but only if they're online friends.

I'm not entirely sure WHY I've made this distinction, but it's been around for two years, since I signed onto Blogger, and I don't foresee making it anything else. The fact that I'm a rather private individual is nothing new; the whole reason the comment about Fr. Geoffrey struck me was because it could well apply to me six years from now--my ordination weekend could very well be utterly draining. Although I'm what I call an "outgoing introvert," I definitely need private time alone. This works well, I think, in the priestly vocation, because I like people and I can be around them all day, but I need time alone. I've really noticed this since moving into the rectory. Most of the time, I've cloistered myself in my room and I've been completely happy. My favourite moments have been when it's just me and the cat in the rectory. Part of the reason may be that I've had a LOT of people between school and extraordinary things like the trip to Winnipeg to cause me to need some downtime, but I think a lot of it simply stems from preferring a very private home life. In the seminary, my room tends to see visitors about four times a year, not because I actively shun society, but because I go out to find it rather than invite it in, and people tend to pick up on this reservedness.

Anyway, getting back to the internet/"real life" dichotomy, the issue is not why am I so reserved toward people I know in person, but rather why I'm NOT as guarded with people online. Sure, one can make the case that since I can't interact in real life, I'm protected from having to physically bring them into my life, but that doesn't seem quite an adequate explanation. A lot of the things that I post on here come up in conversation with people in real life, brought up by me because I want to make the same points with them that I do here... but never, ever, have I come anywhere near saying I have this blog. For whatever reason, it's sacrosanct... even though... actually... it's not.

Now, whatever this odd mentality may result from, the ironic truth of the matter is that it wouldn't be hard to find this blog. A google search of my name (including that ever-present initial "A") yields this blog, LiveJournal, Classic-Castle, and the Barrow-Downs (and maybe Facebook... it's been a couple years since I checked), and obviously anyone on Facebook knows my name.

But will I ever tell anyone? Unlikely... I have issues telling people in real life what my phone number is. Not if they ask, but offering is like pulling teeth without anaesthetic.

Actually, that may well be the root peccadillo in play here: I don't like asking people to put themselves out for me, at all. I'm more than happy to assist people, if I'm capable, but even the simplest of things, even things people might enjoy doing, I have a really hard time asking.

Food for thought, Michael.

"Nothing More Beautiful"

Today, instead of doing much work, I was encouraged by my immediate superior to attend the Pastoral Assistants day that was going on at the Pastoral Centre. I went last year, and it's a pretty good time. I sat with the St. Theresa's crowd again, because I'm generally timid about meeting new people, and although there were definitely familiar faces, it's still largely a crowd I don't know.

In the afternoon, Archbishop Smith gave a presentation on his five year plan for the New Evangelisation, which is to commence this fall. I'd already heard it once, about a month back when he gave it to a large group of "influential" (by which I mean high involved as youth ministers and the like) young adults, but it was still awesome to hear it again. The first time was awesome, since it came at unawares, and the vibe in the room was ecstatic, but the second time was good too, as a refresher. I'm not sure the pastoral assistants had the same excited feeling, but my eagerness for getting this underway was boosted again after having been largely forgotten in the midst of a million and one other things that have passed since the start of May.

The New Evangelisation, since probably no one is familiar with the concept, is the idea of revitalising the faith of the Catholic community in our archdiocese, over the course of the next five years, and then putting this into practice as we witness, as a diocese, to the world. This does not mean, as the Archbishop was quick to clarify today, that regular church efforts will be put on hold for five years. No, everything continues according to normal, but in the midst of all this normal there will be a concerted plan to re-educate, rekindle, and reinvigorate the faith of Catholics. It will be a simple plan, not intended to add "yet another thing" to the list of the programs and events that are ongoing. Instead, it is intended to fit into all those things already ongoing.

Anyway, the exact details of HOW it's going to work are still under "construction", and I'm not the best at visualising such things anyway. What chiefly has me, in particular, thrilled about is the theme: "Nothing More Beautiful".

"Nothing More Beautiful" is from a line in Pope Benedict's homily at his inaugural Mass as Pontiff, a line that apparently resonated with the Archbishop, and I must admit is rather cool indeed. The line goes: "There is nothing more beautiful than to be surprised by the Gospel, by the encounter with Christ. There is nothing more beautiful than to know Him and to speak to others of our friendship with Him."

"There is Nothing More Beautiful."

While I would definitely agree regarding the truth of this statement in any case, the ideas and thoughts that have played across my mind in the last couple years have made this resonate loudly throughout my mind since I first heard the Archbishop's presentation. One thing that has become crystal clear about my faith, the Catholic faith, since coming to seminary, is the immense respect we have for symbolism, and the great usage of it that our tradition holds.

In large part, this stems back to the Catholic notions regarding the physical universe. We do not have a Protestant viewpoint, which tends to see the material world as "evil" and to be avoided. This stems, I think, largely from a very literal reading of the epistles of St. Paul, who certainly does speak about the evils of the flesh-- but it should be noted that this does not mean that St. Paul is speaking of physical bodies, and thus the physical world, as inherently evil, but rather that he is using the word to indicate the inclinations and temptations that the world, in its fallen state, can present to us, and which certainly is in contraposition to the Word of God.

It has been, however, always the contention of the Church that the world is inherently good, going right back to Genesis, where it says quite clearly about every part of creation: "and God saw that it was good". This understanding of the fundamental goodness of creation is present throughout Catholic theology. Our understanding of marriage and sex is coloured with the understanding that this physical, bodily action is an inherently good and beneficial gift--albeit prone to much corruption since the Fall. The importance of physical matter is key to an understanding of how Catholics view the sacraments. Indeed, some sort of a physical element is necessary for them to even be a sacrament, be it a touch, or an anointing, or food (incidentally, the sacrament of marriage's physical touch is... you guessed it... sex). And, of course, there is our much maligned fondness toward building beautiful cathedrals, wearing gorgeous vestments, using gilded chalices, and rich decoration of every sort. We understand, and express it in the very symbolism of our incredibly rich liturgy, that symbolism, physical symbols, have immense power. We acknowledge and celebrate the fact that humans are material beings, not purely spiritual. It is at the very heart of Catholicism to use symbols.

With this in mind, and with this being very dear to my heart, the theme "Nothing More Beautiful" strikes a dear chord for me. Most people I know, especially those liable to read this here online, do not understand just how deeply this resonates. The whole fibre of my being tingles at the beauty of the Mass. If I feel strongly that churches should be soaring and grand, that vestments should be richly embroidered, that music should be solemn and awe-inspiring, it all stems from the very roots of my heart that recognizes the beauty in such things, and wants to cry out with joy to the Lord with all the instruments at its disposal.

Another of the lines that Archbishop Smith took from Pope Benedict on this matter expresses it exactly in my mind. People think, in general, that being a seminarian, being a devout Catholic in general, means giving up enjoyment and fun, that one lives a dreary life in the hope of the next life to come--but this is NOT so! I wish I could find the quote (the Archbishop's first letter on the New Evangelisation does not quote it, and I can't remember where he took it from), but it was basically to the effect that being a Christian is not a limited life of rules and regulations, but a joyful encounter with Christ.

This has struck me a bit more than usual this spring, as I've eased back into regular chatting with friends online... that people really don't get how awesome my life is. There is nothing, nothing more beautiful that I can possibly imagine than knowing you are serving Christ. I can imagine a hundred different ways this joy might be played out, but none of them can be imagined separate from doing one's best to serve and follow Him, and to observe His ways. Following Christ is not a chaining up of one's life, it is a freedom. "The Truth will set you free" the Bible proclaims, and I burn with a passion that wants to flame to the heavens attempting to find the words to explain it. I use a lot of words like "flame" and "burning" trying to express what I feel when I'm thinking about service to Jesus, but fire isn't the only imagery. The pounding wind in your face as you roar down the highway with the windows open can be used too.

The inability to convey completely what I feel is something of a sad thing, since I feel, as a part of it, so sad for those that I love (and yes, I do love you people) not being able to feel this, not feeling Jesus' love for them, and the awesome feeling of being able to love Him back, and yet, despite that, there is something about the simple fact that I can't explain it that is an essential part of this all-soaring love. It's limitless. It's infinite. The love one feels for Jesus and feels expressed in return is the best touch we can have with the infinite.

There is, indeed, nothing more beautiful.

Roadtrip to Winnipeg

This probably isn't the best time to be posting, since I'm cross-legged on the floor with a sore back (I lean forward all day at work over documents... and now I'm sitting on the floor), and I seem to have picked up a devastating cold over the past 24 hours, and I certainly haven't had enough sleep for three days straight...

But when is it going to be an optimal time? I want to write about my weekend while my excitement levels are still high. Due to the cold and having been back for a day of work, they've dipped significantly already, but even in the worst of my achy-breaky pain, I can definitely look back and say it's one of the best weekends I've had in years. Maybe ever.

I left Edmonton on Thursday with Deacon Travis, and we drove out to Saskatoon, halfway across the prairies, and five-six hours down the Yellowhead. We had some good conversation on the way down, and that evening the beer-drinking commenced, followed by some liquour once I got dropped off at the Cathedral rectory where I was staying with Geoffrey, another seminarian. After the arrival of the fourth member of our party (the other Michael from Edmonton), and a formal introduction to "The Office" (British version), we crawled into bed around midnight.

On Friday the four of us headed down the Yellowhead to Winnipeg, pulling into the parking lot of the St-Boniface Basilica rectory half an hour later than we ought to have due to getting lost (Winnipeg has no rhyme or reason to its city planning... and I'm not talking aesthetic curves but complete nonsense of straight roads... completely unjustified in a prairie city). Still, once Paul (another, local, seminarian) showed us through the bowels of the rectory, we got dressed and were given the benefit of his wisdom finding our way back across the Red River to the Cathedral of the Winnipeg Archdiocese (due to Irish/French inability to get along, there are two Catholic Archdioceses in Winnipeg. St-Boniface is French and older), where Geoffrey and James were to be ordained priests.

The liturgy was beautiful... albeit slightly irregular, and was completely packed. After two hours of Mass and an hour or more of reception, some of us headed over to the Elephant and Castle pub across the street for the weekend's second round of beer, and then off to our respective beds. By the time I was in bed in the rectory of Paul's pastor, it was past 1:00 am (Winnipeg time).

Saturday we were supposed to be early for Fr. James' first Mass, but we were five minutes late. After the luncheon reception, Paul took Travis, Geoffrey (from Saskatoon, not the recently-ordained), and myself down to the Forks, then we went to Travis's uncle's for a steak supper. Then it was off to Fr. Geoffrey's home parish for HIS first Mass. Now, Fr. Geoffrey is Filipino, and it was a regularly scheduled Sunday Mass as well, so it was packed. Despite being 25 minutes early, Paul and I were still not able to sit in the church-proper.

After a lavish reception, and good-byes, Travis dropped Paul, Geoffrey, and myself off at Paul's house, where we watched Ghostbusters, and had more beer. By the time I got back to the rectory, it was well after midnight.

On Sunday morning, the four of us from the west regathered nice and early, and headed out from Winnipeg. We reached Saskatoon in mid-afternoon, and decided to have more beer at Winston's Pub near the Cathedral. Around 5:00, us Edmonton Michaels decided we should hit the road, so we parted ways with the Saskatchewan boys, and headed west. By 10:00 we had hit Edmonton.


Despite so much time in the car, it was an awesome weekend, and quite often the best fun was in the car. Roadtrips are fun, and I would sign up in a heartbeat for another one right now. Just like my return from Europe, I've got no real desire to settle down as a result of my travels. Unlike Europe, however, I'm not going to have to wait three years for a follow-up trip of a comparable nature. Instead, I'm off on a comparably long roadtrip to Idaho (although without company...) in a month, and I'm pumped for it. And in less than two weeks I get my long-anticipated "Next Pilgrimage-like flight" follow-up to Europe when I go to Quebec City for the International Eucharist Congress. After hanging out with the seminarians all weekend, I'm pumped for that too.

Life really is awesome. This summer really is awesome. Thank you, Jesus, that I have a job that lets me do this!

Glorious Summer

As usual, it's been a little while since I've posted here, but that should definitely not be taken as a sign that I've been away from the internet of late. Quite the contrary: I have, in fact, been haunting it daily, and with an intensity not seen since before I went away to seminary. From my point of view, it's really be quite awesome, finally getting back into the Classic-Castle routine, posting frequently on the 'Downs, and getting to chat with old friends not talked to in quite some time.

Last summer, when I moved out of the seminary, I had no internet for two months, and it was a good thing. I was so tired after breaking my leg, and in that first month before I moved out, I spent a LOT of time online, and I was running around on the weekends, and I hadn't gotten over the exhaustion of the school year. As a result, I really needed and really enjoyed having such a peaceful two months.

This year, on the other hand, I've got energy and I want to catch up on all the fun I've missed while school's been keeping me busy. I want to keep in touch, and keep visible, and have fun. Last summer, quiet was necessary. This summer, I'm really feeling how long two years is, and how little I did last summer. Not so, this year. This year, I'm going to travel!

In another couple weeks, I'm off to Manitoba on a road trip with some of the seminarians to attend a double-ordination in Winnipeg. Now, I realise that Winnipeg is probably about as far from exotic as you can get, but being on the road and somewhere I've never been, and out with the seminary family is fun! I'm quite looking forward to it.

Three weeks or so after that, I'm flying off to Quebec City for a week, for the International Eucharistic Congress. This, it is will be awesome! 100,000+ Catholics (probably) gathering from across the globe to celebrate the central-most aspect of our faith together--and here in our own country! Furthermore, I'll get to see a whole different part of the continent I've never set foot on, I'll get to see the North American city with the longest history, and get to meet Catholics, be they bishops, priests, seminarians, religious, laypeople, from everywhere.

Two weeks or so after that, I'm in the process of planning a trip down to the States. My first meeting with a BDer (well, unless I randomly meet Farael in Winnipeg...)! My first trip to the States in 12 years! And a long cry from any long weekend last summer...

As of right now, there are no big plans for July... although the weekend after the States is a major ordination here in Edmonton (which I'll be present for), and I might even try getting to Victoria, B.C. in late July for Stephen's diaconal ordination. The first weekend of August is Bones (which reminds me... we're a man short... must think about that...). End of August is Maurice's presbyteral ordination in Peace River, so I'll probably head up for that, and then the seminary year starts. That should be the end of any excitement, but I've been toying with the idea of going to Seattle for BrickCon over the October Long Weekend. I'm having doubts, though...

Still, that's a full enough summer, and I've also got to consider, at the end of it, getting things in motion for the Philosophy Club next fall. I'm somewhat terrified at the prospect of being the one most responsible for getting that going, but I've got good help and I'm excited. All that I REALLY have to make sure happens is that we all actually get together and plan some stuff. The rest will hopefully follow inertially.

There is a very real possibility that I will be internetless for most of the summer, once again, but I'm not too torn up about that. I can find internet on weekends or evenings if I'm willing to strike out of the home territory a little, and with as much stuff as I've got going on, it probably won't be a bad thing to have a little more free time. After all, I'm working through all this (which is why most of my trips are weekenders). I mean, I may have a really good job that will let me have time off whenever, but I intend to work as much as possible, and thus to earn a corresponding amount. Besides, I really enjoy working in the Archives, and not only do I have a decent raise over what I made last year, but I'll also be the best-placed seminarian in the country to observe the construction of the new seminary, right out of my window.

Yes, it's going to be an awesome summer, and I'm absolutely stoked about it! Just don't expect updates... I'd like to... but I can't promise.

Two Down, Six to Go

Quite a few times it has occurred to me in the last week or two that "hey! That would probably be a good thing to put down on the blog"--but I've never been in the mood to sit down here and do it. Now I do feel like blogging... and I've forgotten most of what it has occurred to me to say, and I've got nothing else new.

Hmmm...

I do seem to recall thinking that I should maybe note how odd it was going in to school yesterday. It's the second final I've had, and other than my final on Friday, it's the first time I've been to Concordia since the last day of classes, and it's definitely the first day I've had to hang out and talk with a large number of people I know (I went in early to hand in a take-home exam, and stayed after the exam for the fun of it. I had nothing better to do). It was kind of odd stepping back into the Concordia social scene, since I spent the last few days mixed in with completely different crowds.

As people might know from elsewhere, I went home for the weekend (foolishly), and naturally being in Olds brings back memories of a wholly different time, even though I didn't spend time with anyone other than family while I was there. Thoughts of old times were really reinforced on Monday night when, for the first time in months, I had some long chats online. One was with Nathan, bringing back all sorts of dusty memories of Classic-Castle and my roleplaying heyday. Then there was Jamie, who maybe as an individual doesn't particularly recall the old glory days of chatting with Barrow-downers, but that's still how I know her. And then, of all strange things to happen, I was added by the phantom on MSN, and had my first lengthy chat with a new Barrow-downer in over a year. Coupled with all the extra time I've had due to finals (let's face it, I'm not much of a crammer), I've spent more time on the 'Downs than any other week in the past eight months, and I've been appointed Administrator of the 'Downs Facebook group; all of which means I've been transported back to a very different time when I spent a lot more hours on Barrow-downs related activities.

And then I went to school yesterday, and hanging out with all these people I've come to know this year seemed really surreal. It felt pretty good, knowing I've come to know all these people, and unlike when classes was ending there was no foreboding sense of impending doom about the end of the semester, but there was a rather weird feeling that this couldn't be real... that surely my real social life had to involve a keyboard and text on a screen.

So... yeah... kind of odd.



I think I also wanted to mention how it struck me powerfully that I'll be down two whole years of seminary in less than 48 hours, but I talk enough about how fast time always seems to be that I'll let it pass, except to say: "Wow! Two years! Wow!"

The Best Years of My Life?

Tonight was the awards ceremony at Concordia, and while it was--as to be expected--something of a quick shuffle through all the deserving award winners with little time to linger, it was ultimately still worth going to, though even in the conversation afterward, there was little of note that passed.

Of course, one should remember that I tend to enjoy formal things. An excuse to put on a suit is a good excuse in my book. Also, despite a tendency towards shyness, I love social situations. Communities and relationships fascinate me, so events where everyone's name is printed out and trotted across the stage is always enjoyable, since it means I not only get to find out who people are without having to ever talk to them, I also get a sense of how they fit into the Concordia community. These are the smart people, the achievers.

What really made attending the award ceremony worth it, for me, was the reflection on how time passes. Now, it should be noted that I find the passage of time endlessly fascinating, but despite that fact I still seem to find myself marvelling over it as though I'd never noticed it before.

It's been ever more apparent the past few weeks that this school year is almost over. Just one more full week of classes, then finals, then--BOOM--it's over. And I'm finding myself back where I was at this point last year: ever so eager to just be DONE, but really, really wistful about the fact that it's over. Let's face it--I really haven't got much of a social life outside of seminary and Concordia, although I would argue that this isn't really what's at stake in my wistfulness here, so much as the fact that I really like being in school. Call it the repressed yearnings of an academically inclined, people enjoying, home-schooler.

Whatever the reason, that's kind of beside the point at the moment. Although I am VERY strongly reminded of this same point last year, my situation is radically different. By this time last year, I was pretty much just reaching the point where I was developing friendships and bonding with the school. And yes, that does seem like it took me a long time, but let's put things in perspective and recall that in my first semester, I only had one class a day, effectively, so I would go in for class, then turn around and go home, never really doing more than school proper. On top of that, you should be aware that I take a long, long time to warm up to new places, and not only was Concordia a new place, I was adjusting to seminary, adjusting to city life, adjusting to Edmonton in particular, going to class for the first time in eleven years, as well as coming off a year so social-less (Never, ever, work night/weekend shifts for a living if you want a social life!) as to be solitary confinement... and the list goes on.

Now, a year later, I can honestly say I had the best year of my life--thus far. Funny, but I thought I could say that last year too--and the year before (despite the job...), and the year before that too... Now, although Grade 12 was a good year, there is no denying in my mind that each year since has been progressively better. This school year was no different, and a look at the three other award-winners I would say I know rather well, each can be taken as a marker for a change in my extracurricular life in this past year.

Starting with Shane: he is the face of the Philosophy Club, which has probably been the single greatest change in my schedule this year. It's impossible to evaluate completely what kind of a difference this has made, since one year is never the same as the one previous, and I barely can remember last year at this point. Philosophy Club has absorbed huge chunks of my time, and has been integrally connected to a huge number of relationships, and is definitely going to affect next year, given that they elected me president next year. It's kind of funny, looking back, that I'm quite sure the reason I really got involved in the Club has largely to do with the fact that I chanced across Shane and Nolan in the cafeteria and sat down just as they were plotting the formation of the club. Next thing you know, I'm the Recording Officer, and my Monday evenings are booked up.

Moving on to Lindsey: last year I would never have probably spent so much time willingly in the cafeteria as I have this year, and this semester in particular, it's been with an entirely different crowd, and in all honesty I don't even remember how or why I started associating with that group. Now, Lindsey's actually probably the least typical example in the group, but it's probably fair to say of the others that they are crazy... in one way or another. Now, it's not that I'm NOT crazy... but I definitely don't think I'm quite the same kind of crazy.

And then there's Ben... Ben is someone I generally only know from classes. He's not in Philosophy Club (though he's in the classes), and apart from random encounters passing through Tegler, I don't generally see him between/after/before classes like the cafeteria crew. He is, however, an excellent example of the mysterious phenomenon I've had my attention drawn to lately, of how all sorts of people seem to know me, generally from having taken classes with me. Ben's probably better known than most of these random examples, but after Sierra pointed it out to me that all kinds of people seem to know me, I started keeping track of greetings from people randomly walking past in Tegler, and it does seem that, quite apart from being a faceless entity among hundreds of students, that there is never really a time I cannot go somewhere public at Concordia and find someone I know. Not that I'm a public personage, by any means (at least, I sure HOPE not!), but it would seem I've not exactly been under the radar this year either.

Of course, being me, all this reflection and fascination with time only means that I'm also well aware how terribly close a year from now is--the very end of my time at Concordia. It's ironic, given that I've only had one better year after another, that I'm kind of prematurely depressed about life going on. I mean, I definitely want to be done my degree, and I definitely want to move on to ordination... but I really do hate to see good times end, and Concordia, once I warmed up to it, has been good times.

There are definitely times when being a nostalgia nut is not a good idea...

Easter Season

If there is some magic condition that makes it so that I post here, I have yet to find what it might be. I'm here posting, but I don't think "I'm not quite ready for bed, not doing homework, and don't have enough time for Stargate" applies to every other situation. Maybe I should break my other leg? Just a thought...

Anyways...

I seem to have undergone something of a sea change in terms of energy since the Easter weekend, probably because the four-day weekend and a visit home meant a much-needed recharge of batteries, never mind the usual energy boost of the Easter season, which is bouncy, hopeful, uplifting, and all that good stuff. Nothing pumps me up for a week or two like an awesome Easter Vigil service. Of course, there's also the fact that now that Easter has passed, the end of the school year feels very near--even though the extra-early Easter means it's actually quite a bit farther away than I instinctively want to think. Even with a whole week of school over since Easter, I still have two weeks of classes, and then two weeks of "finals" before I'm free of this semester.

Of course, the fact that all my papers are coming due could be making me panic a little, and nothing gives you energy like adrenaline... but I'm not quite at that point yet. Still haven't pulled an academic all-nighter, for anything.

Spring weather doesn't hurt one's energy levels either. The weather has been consistently nice the last couple weeks, and the continual melting of snow, together with sunny, breezy spring days, has been beautiful.

Life's not a complete bag of roses, of course. My memory has reached the point in the school year where my classes have fused. Going in to school this morning I could barely have told you which class was when, with which prof, and on what subject. I knew I had a paper to hand in, but although I had the right paper, my mind kept thinking it was for my OTHER English class. I've also got alarm-clock setting issues, and I have absolutely no idea what day of the month it is... life is a big blur.

It's hard to believe that April is already upon us tomorrow, and at the same time really amazing that it has been March for so long. I mean... Easter Sunday was eight days ago!

Yes, I'm a little confused these days... but at least I'm not drained-feeling anymore!

Most Blessed of all Weekends

With the celebration of the Holy Thursday Mass, I've now entered into the Easter Triduum, the most solemn three days of the Church year, and the setting of my absolute favourite liturgies. As it stands, I'm unfortunately very ticked off at myself. I suffered through Mass with a hint of a buzz from too much wine at supper (we had a Seder supper, re-enacting a Jewish Passover meal, and it requires have four glasses of wine). The buzz wasn't the real problem so much as the fact that I forgot to take my insulin at supper, and thus by the time Mass came around all my supper had ended up in my bloodstream, which inevitably makes me really uncomfortable--and less than able to sing as the high blood sugar meant a syphoning of water into the bladder, and thus drying out other places like the mouth.

The unfortunate result of this is a general crankiness that has only now started to alleviate as I've taken insulin and have had a drink of water. I'm still in a rather pensive mood, though, and this has a lot to do with the fact that I'm feeling quite disconnected from the seminary of late--because I'm never able to be here.

This has been a bad semester for that in general, and while I'm at school I don't begrudge being at school, but I really, really felt kind of "doing nothing/useless" at Mass tonight. This is a false sense of how things should be, I know, since a Mass is SUPPOSED to have ordinary church-goers, but I've been spoilt this week. I served for the Archbishop on Saturday, on Sunday, and on Monday I was on the Chrism Mass serving team, all of which serves to bring out my very normal tendency toward wanting to be at the centre of the liturgical action. I'm quite certain that this has peaked nearly every year yet around Easter, since quite a while before I entered seminary.

On the plus side, as far as that goes, the rest of the weekend should make up for that amply. I'm heading back to Olds tomorrow, and I'll be serving at the Good Friday liturgy, the Easter Vigil, and the Easter morning Mass, a Triduum tour-de-force that I've never had the chance to serve before.

Every year, the Triduum sneaks up on me and I find myself at or just after the Holy Thursday Mass, wishing I'd been just a little bit better prepared, and regretting that the weekend always has to disappear so quickly. I always want to savour this part of the year for so much longer... all year would be nice. But before I know it, Thursday has passed into Friday, suddenly Friday is gone, and then the Easter Vigil (which seemed forever-long and boring as a little kid) has flashed before my eyes and it's Easter morning... and once that Mass has vanished, the high spiritual weekend is over, and it's back to real life.

Basically, it's the same sort of hunger you get after you've just eaten a chocolate bar. One never seems to be enough. The chocolate was just savoury enough that you want a second one... but you never get one. However, as I learnt today, when you plan ahead and actually do have two, the second one always ends up tasting too sweet, and you can hardly get it down without nausea. Maybe that's how it is with the Triduum... it's ever so much better to having that lingering desire for more than to ever actually have more.

Not Quite a Third World Country

We had a very interesting day yesterday. At some point around Lauds (so 8:50 until 9:20ish), Epcor (Edmonton's public/private utility company), while digging out behind the seminary, hit our water main, and for the rest of the day we did not have running water.

The huge irony here is that Epcor spent the last few days doing survey work to find those water lines and power lines and the like. I guess they succeeded.

Now, this didn't really make much of a difference at first. It actually took until lunch before most of us realised it had happened. Then, as we sat down to eat, we were eating off of styrofoam, paper, and plastic because we wouldn't be able to run the dishwasher. As the day went on, we learned more and more that this wasn't going to be fixed quickly, and come supper we still didn't have running water.

Supper was order-in pizza and bottled water, pop, etc. Supper was also after half an hour of most of us ambling out to the water trailor that Epcor had provided to haul water into our rooms to flush our toilets, brush our teeth, etc. It was really quite amusing to watch us slowly make our way out there a couple at time, usually carrying our blue, plastic paper recycling bins (emptied of all paper, of course).

The inability to shower meant that soccer did not happen after supper as had been planned, but instead a number of us went out to a movie (Juno). By the time we got back (10:30 pm, or later), the water main still hadn't been fixed, but Epcor had managed to hook up a larger water truck to our water system, thus restoring running water. Though not fixed when last I checked, today's water situation is basically back to normal as far as the turning on of taps goes.

For the most part, the water problem did not inconvenience us beyond the change of meal and sport plans--and toilet flushing. Most of us had showered before Lauds (though the few who didn't were QUITE cranky all day). The most amusing part of the whole situation was the fact that it happened when it did. For the first part, it seems that all the problems that have come upon the building this year (we've had two major water leaks in the library) have happened on the weekend--when the college end of the building is empty and we don't have staff working on maintenance or anything. The second amusing note is the fact that this weekend was the "Come and See" weekend, meaning that we had six seminary prospects who managed to, well, come and see what life at the seminary is like. Well, they got a really good look at what happens when the schedule gets mashed up. On whole, though, I think the *cough* "disaster" may have been beneficial in that regard, since the community tended to spend more time together, and there was a much greater feeling of cameraderie at supper and in the evening than usual.

Oh, and yes, I am avoiding homework by writing right now...