What He Needs to Know Before Seminary
Preparing for the seminary battlefield, Christ the Healer, and a little of this and that...
"My son was in seminary." When people hear that, it seems simple enough. But when I say it, the recollection is of a life-changing event... like a car accident or a bad breakup. An experience that you survived but with complicated emotions, some scars, some residual pain, a different perspective on life, and some beautiful and powerful manifestations of God's grace.
Since I wasn't in seminary, that part isn't my story to tell. My angle as a parent was different, but my son has given me permission to tell it as part of my testimony to God’s goodness and also to help others discern. Perhaps my words can help a future priest navigate difficulties. Perhaps some parents can be better equipped to assist.
The Church is in crisis and people are sinners, and we cannot romanticize those facts away without risking the minds and souls of our young men. When a man enters the seminary doors, he walks onto a battlefield. He is giving his assent to be fitted with the future crown of martyrdom. Like the Apostles before Him. Like Christ.
Before entering, he should already be a man, with a healthy spiritual, mental, and physical formation. He must be open to learning while, at the same time, prepared for the possibility of having to navigate wrong teaching and complicated peer and formator relationships. Even in a good seminary. Even with a faithful bishop. Even with a trusted order.
I was prompted to write today after hearing yet another account of demoralized former seminarians from my diocese who lost their faith after being mistreated and then abandoned. And I say with sincerity and intensity rooted in experience:
If God is calling men to become priests, then let Him call ours… but let us be prepared.
Our rosaries and the hours on our knees on behalf of our children may be enough in the end but, then again, they may not. Prayer moves mountains, but bad formation is not undone simply by a mother’s fervent desire. If we throw our kids into a den of hungry wolves and then pray a rosary for their safety? We shouldn’t be surprised to see their bodies torn to shreds.
I’m occasionally approached by younger moms whose boys talk about becoming priests someday. The moms are filled with joy (as they should be) and excitement about the future. They know there is a crisis in the Church but figure that there must be a good seminary or two out there still. “Where would you send your sons?” they ask.
And I shift uncomfortably. “I don’t know. God’s will be done.”
How can we prepare our sons to answer the call before they get to seminary? And if you are a man discerning or currently in seminary, what should you know before you agree to submit to formation? I try to answer that (in part) in an article called "What Catholic Parents Need to Know Before a Son Enters Seminary." I'd be grateful if you would give it a read and share it. This topic is critically important to all the faithful.
CHRIST THE HEALER
In the middle of the gray city, there is a church filled with stained glass. Many panes so high up that I can’t see the details, just brilliant splashes of color. But I saw this one...
CHRIST THE HEALER
"Young man, I say to thee, arise!" (Luke 7) And the young man, already dead, rises at Jesus' word. Not long before I took the photo, the liturgy was disrupted by a young couple strung out on drugs. The woman alternately applauded Father's homily and argued loudly.
“Confession is like a car wash for the soul.”
“NO IT ISN’T.”
And this is the way it is inside the Church and the world. Many of us arguing with the circumstances of life and maybe God. Balancing our compulsions, addictions, vices with rational minds and seeking hearts. Hiding shame more or less well.
I speak for myself, anyway. Though I’m probably not the only one. The well-cared for can so easily pretend they aren’t impoverished. The pious that they don’t waver in their interior devotion. But the addict of the streets has no protection for the ego.
At Mass, I admit that I was relieved that the grimier parts of my soul were hidden, and I suspected that those unfortunate souls were particularly dear to God in their broken vulnerability. It’s usually only children, addicted, and the mentally ill who lack the self-awareness to hide their interior struggle. and maybe their hunger, boredom, anger, and distraction. And oh, how He loves them!
Sometimes that reckless exposure is due to the innocence of childhood and sometimes it is sin and the stripping down to rock bottom misery. Either way…
In the midst of our own contradictions and our death-afflicted souls lying on the funeral bier, Christ the Healer comes to each of us in turn (and unceasingly) and invites:
“I say to thee, Arise.”
I think of the moment of St. Peter’s greatest shame and how the love of Jesus pierces his heart and breaks through. I am moved to ask God to help me open every hidden corner to His infinite mercy and goodness. There is nothing that He doesn’t already know and yet I have covered my own shame and closed my heart off in order to defend myself from… God?
Ah, Lord! Help me to surrender in peace! I am safe with You ♥️
THIS AND THAT…
Breakfast Games. The kids decided to spice up our breakfast routine (which is not much to speak of) and have some fun. So they made up a game of sorts. Like a Chopped-meets-nice-homeschoolers kind of event. Two to three times a week we have breakfast prepared by kid chefs and ingredients, both chosen by pulling slips of paper out of a hat. It’s an additional challenge being a celiac household since all recipes have to be gluten free, but it’s been fun and delicious! If you’re on IG, you can read more here.
Grandma again! We recently found out that we’re grandparents again and we get to meet the littlest squish in May.
The Catechism says “The heart is the dwelling-place where I am, where I live... the heart is our hidden center, beyond the grasp of our real and of others; only the Spirit of God can fathom the human heart and know it fully... The heart is the place of truth... the place of encounter..."
… and I think it must be that the womb of the unborn child is a place of steady blessed encounter. A place of deep communion and joy. Grow in His care, little bean, and we will see you shortly. May God grant us all the grace and wisdom to accompany you into a life of great goodness, and an eternity of glory.
Avoiding the surgeon’s scalpel. I’ve been working steadfastly to keep my lupus-battered joints from sidelining me and I’m constantly discovering new ways to restore function and mobility and reduce pain. Recovering from an 18-month period of frequent illness (and the sedentary periods of recovery) has been some of the hardest body work I’ve ever done. And incredibly exciting. I had no idea so much healing of injury was possible. The primary cost is TIME. And that has been reflected in the deficit in other areas of my life. Which brings me to reflect (yet again) on the gift of illness/injury…
Nothing clarifies priorities like loss. Limited time forces a person to put first things first or suffer their deterioration. The thing at the end of the list will be what falls away. We have to decide if it will be family, health, prayer, or all the other ancillary things which rob from the first three. It’s been hard… but very good.Rebuilding the body. If you’re serious about rebuilding your body from the ground up, check out this book. The spiral bound is worth the extra money in my opinion. I’m sure I would have broken the spine already if it had been otherwise. My husband is a book lover, which means he keeps books nice while he reads them. I am a book lover which means that my books are well worn, like the Velveteen Rabbit.
Calming the Waves with music. Music is an essential part of my stress management. When my body is under inflammatory attack, I turn to simple hymns and praise and worship to focus in a prayerful way. Sometimes chant is healing, other times I just need something less complex. I never get tired of the song, Oceans, and recently discovered a softer version which doesn’t devolve into pounding, belting, and drums. Listen here.
Our academic year is solidly underway and we’ve got 4 remaining in our homeschool. Twenty-one years in and 11 left to go. It’ll be awhile before we have an empty nest, but I can’t complain! September always makes me feel alive. Tired, but ready. I pray that your Autumn is filled with a renewed vigor and hope for the coming season. Sometimes we gotta fake it a bit when the energy lags … but we’ve got this. You can do it. In fact, you are doing it. Well done.
Blessed be God!
Melody
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