A Seminary Story

[arfink]

And now it's time for part 6, my evaluation. There is a lot of this part of the story that I'll wind up leaving out, but I'll try to keep as many of the relevant pieces in here as I can.

If you read the last part you know that it wasn't easy for me to go back to seminary for my fourth year. I was pretty sure it wasn't going to turn out very well. It was one thing to be having doubts of my own. But there was a bigger piece that was causing me even more concern. [b]Evaluations.[/b]

Has anyone here had the fun experience of a performance evaluation at work? Remember how [i]un[/i]-fun those always are? We had those every year at seminary. Our formational improvement as seminarians was supposed to be quantifiable and measurable. After all, we had truckloads of new seminarians coming in all the time. We were bursting at the seams with far more men than the system was capable of dealing with. Not to mention that selecting men to be priests is a daunting task: you got to have the very best, the very cream of the crop, if you will. The seminary staff understandably had to have very high standards.

Very high standards which I was terrified of not meeting.

The seniors were always the first to have their evaluations each year, and with such a huge number of seminarians the evaluations had to begin very early in the year. The schedule was posted on the second week of classes. My evaluation was scheduled for the first week of October, in the first week of evaluations. This was already a bad sign. Men were never evaluated in alphabetical order. They were evaluated by class, of course, and the seniors were always given the first spots on the list because, it was said, we needed to have the benefit of our evaluation early for the sake of our final year of discernment. There was always a dark, whispered rumor in my previous 3 years though, that the men at the top of the list were put there [i]for a reason.[/i] [i]The troublesome cases. The ones the staff wanted out of the way.[/i] I was the second man on the list, and I was terrified.

The weeks before my evaluation I had a formation meetings with the priest on my floor every so often. We talked about some things, and he handily dropped some comment about not wanting there to be any surprises at my evaluation. Yet more terror.

I had good reason to be concerned. My academic performance had been consistently miserable. The staff had some sense that I was a smart guy, but nobody could make sense of why I was performing badly. Some days not even I could make sense of it. Naturally, the consensus by all parties involved typically was that I didn't care enough to do the work I needed to get done, because otherwise I would clearly have much better grades. I was beginning to have some sense of why I did badly in school, but I didn't like the answer I was getting, and I knew the staff wouldn't like it either: the rigours of seminary were too much for me to balance with my schoolwork.

Besides that problem, the staff had identified other "formational issues." I was and still am overweight, in part from years of neglecting my health in high school out of sheer lack of concern, and in part because of a physical problem I have had since birth that makes it difficult to be active. My attempts to piece together a routine and regimen that would work for me and still fit into the seminary schedule were largely fruitless, and the staff were disappointed that I couldn't manage my time better. I still had great difficulty in large social situations, especially public speaking. They didn't like that I shrank from view in large crowds, and that the positions I would volunteer for were always behind the scenes. They believed I was still living a life far too reclusive for a seminarian. They were concerned that I had not dutifully abandoned my old hobbies completely, concerned that a "grown man, much less a seminarian" would still be interested in such things as computers and graphic design and programming and games.

Finally the day of my evaluation came. I remember what I wore that day: black p[color=#696969]ants[/color] and a grey/green plaid shirt with sleeves that were just a little bit too long. I remember what the weather was like: cool but not cold, overcast, breezy. The kind of autumn day I would have enjoyed any other day of the year. I waited in the lobby for my turn. The man to be evaluated before me went into the conference room, stony faced and silent. Some of the younger men were playing with a frisbee on the lawn, and I could hear their joyful shouts through the open window. I waited an eternity. The man who was evaluated before me came out, his face set like flint but white as paper. He weakly said "Hi," and quickly left the building. Then it was my turn to go in.

I couldn't recount to you everything that was said in that room if I wanted to. My memories about what was said, who said what, and the very inflections of each speakers' voices have been replayed so many times in my mind that it's like a record that's gotten worn out. There were of course some small formalities, and then the rector began very simply. "Let me get right to the point. At this time we cannot recommend you continue your formation with the seminary." There followed tokens of gratitude for the good work I had done for the seminary, acknowledgement of the general acclaim I had among the brothers. Then of course, the long list of complaints against my character. Their best wishes for my future endeavours. Did I wish to make any comments? I had spoken not once during the whole affair. No, I didn't have any comment to make at that time. I thanked them for their work with me, and exited the room.

I had already attended my classes for the day, thankfully, as by that point I was beyond being in any way useful or productive for the day. I went to the chapel and sat in the corner until I could breathe normally again. It took 2 hours. Then I locked myself in my room for the rest of the day, and spoke to no one.

[i]to be continued[/i]

Edited October 9, 2012 by arfink

[arfink]

This next part, part 7, is the final part of my seminary story.

So what happened after my evaluation? Well, things began to move very quickly, far faster than I could react to them, and the remainder of my time at seminary flashed by in what seemed an instant, and then began the long march of trying to make it on my own in the outside world.

After my evaluation my life at seminary began to slide and shift, like a house made on sand. I think it would be very apt to say I fell. My dreams and aspirations to that point had all been about being in seminary, being with the brothers I so dearly loved, and I hadn't taken the time to consider anything else. It was a serious mistake. Now I was suddenly faced with a very different reality. I would graduate with a bachelor's degree in Philosophy and Catholic Studies. I would have a large amount of debt. I knew my education was worth something, but I also knew it was most certainly not worth what I had paid for it. I was grateful for the amount of aid I had managed to get while I was in seminary, but even with less college debt than the national average, I knew a degree in Philosophy was essentially worthless where getting a job was concerned. This anxiety was immediate and nearly all-consuming. In every waking hour, and sometimes even in my sleep, I was reminded by my perfidious mind that I had failed.[i][b] "Philosophy![/b] How could I have been such an idiot! They make horrible jokes about Philosophy majors. Nobody wants to hire someone like me. I should have made a better plan. I've wasted four years at this place, for what? The good feeling that I tried to follow God's supposed will? To be with people I like? How stupid. And now the economy is tanked out besides. I'm really quite royally #$%@-ed.[/i]"

When your own mind rebels against you like that, it makes it awfully hard to cope with difficult situations or do anything correctly on a day to day basis. I had been stripped of my illusions, of my dreams, of my hope. I was very nearly stripped of my faith. I didn't have a desire for prayer any more. My amazing spiritual director who had been my guide for 3 years was assigned to a parish far away from the seminary, and I was given a new one. I never made a meaningful connection with him. I barely managed to go through the motions of a spiritual life, the bare minimum to at least look like a seminarian, when inside I felt more like a burnt shell of what I was.

I told my brothers of my plight. Most of my classmates would be continuing on in seminary though, and their words of consolation rang strangely hollow in my ears as I was consumed with envy and self-hatred that they had been allowed to stay and I was not. I tried to fight it back, but even when my mind was convinced they meant well, the words still burned in my emotions. Other of my friends were also being sent away, or leaving of their own volition. I tried to get advice on where to go, what I could do, how I would be able to find my way in life after leaving that place, but nobody had any ideas. I envied and admired the men who had the foresight to leave before their senior year. I wished I was like the guys who clearly had their own plan in mind, instead of blindly trusting. Little by little I also stopped trusting. I didn't trust the staff any more. I was sure I trusted God, but I didn't feel I could trust that I was hearing him correctly in prayer. I doubted that coming to seminary had ever been anything more than just a whim I managed to convince myself of while I was in high school. I still trusted the brothers who had been closest to me, and clung to them as the only thing I really felt I had left. I knew I would lose them before long, and I had no idea what I was going to do. I increasingly did my own thing, and by the very end I was wilfully avoiding mandatory events at the seminary, trying to avoid the pain.

A few of the men there knew how deep I'd been cut by the whole experience, and they tried to help me out. M.M. was one of them. His attempts to make me see the bright side were unfaltering and constant. Another man who lived across the hall, J.S, was leaving seminary at the same time as me, and he tried to be helpful and cheerful too. If not for those two men and a handful of others I think I would have been completely and utterly destroyed by myself during my final year at seminary. They helped me keep my sanity, and I thank God they were there for me when I was systematically shutting down every access to my person I had taken so long to open. But, despite all the good things the men tried to do, I was seldom happy for long. I was so busy destroying myself with my own grief and anger that nothing any human being could do would keep the damage at bay for long.

Eventually the harrowing experience of dealing with grief and trying to graduate was over. I did in fact manage to graduate. I walked down the aisle in my black gown and tasselled hat. People smiled and patted me on the back and said I had a bright future ahead of me. But when I packed my things and went back home, it felt like the future could hold no brightness for me. Stuck at home with no job, no daily routine of classes, and away from my dearest friends, I felt like I had nothing left. In the past, before I had gone to the seminary, it was easy to bury myself in my pet projects and forget about the world, and I would no longer feel the pain. But time doesn't run backwards, and that way was shut to me. I realised I had actually managed to, in a way, fall in love with a place I had called home, a brotherhood I had learned to call family, and I couldn't ever replace it or have it back.

So I began to look for work. For months I looked and looked for something I could do. I was rejected time and time again. I tried to get jobs teaching, doing youth ministry, or things where my degree might be useful, but never got more than a couple of interviews. I even had the humiliating experience of showing up for an interview for a teaching position, only to see the familiar faces of some of my seminary classmates who were interviewing for the exact same job. After a while I tried for anything I could find, because it was coming time to start paying on my college debts and I still had no job at all. Eventually I wound up getting a job at a grocery store with help from a friend who worked there, but my pride was sorely injured to have to work such a job. Anyway, all of that just winds up leading into a different story.

Despite all the pain, darkness, and hopelessness, there was one thread of goodness running through the weave of my life. It was bright and strong as steel, and I think it was only by Divine Providence that this one thread stayed in place. And that was going to Confession every single week. When prayer and discernment and all of that stuff basically collapsed, I still always had the sacraments to go back to, and in a particular way Confession was the best thing I had during all that time. Eventually enough time passed that I was able to look back on the whole thing with clarity again, and begin to put it back together. That's really what it took to get it all put back in place, just a lot of time where it seemed like nothing was happening in my life. Kinda like healing a bone, where you just sit around for a very long time wondering "Is it done yet?" I still thank God as often as I recall it that I had the sacraments at my disposal all through that time, because otherwise I wouldn't have made it through.

Ultimately I did come away from seminary a much stronger person, and with a much better knowledge of myself. Painful experiences are often like that. Upon prayer and reflection I am once again fairly sure God did call me to seminary, but it wasn't because he wanted me to be a priest. He wanted to me to be there to be healed in a special way that could only really happen in that environment, and I thank Him for that. So what's next for me? No clue. More discernment and patience and trust.

And that's my seminary story.

[arfink]

BTW, if any of you want to ask questions, that's totally cool. I imagine I left a good bit out, so if something doesn't seem to make sense let me know.

[LittleWaySoul]

Whoa. That was incredible. Thank you so much for sharing that.

[Mary's Margaret]

arfink, thank-you for sharing your experience with us. My son has a double degree in philosophy and english: not exactly 'job-friendly'. However, he is currently taking some post-grad courses and is going into editing and publishing.
You are a very good and engaging writer. Add to that your natural curiosity and thirst for learning, and I think you'd make a very good journalist. Have you thought of perhaps using that talent (and perhaps your techie interests) in a job with a Catholic publication?
Just a thought I had as I was reading your story.
May you continue to receive the fullness of God's blessing.