Not In Seminary Anymore, But Wish I Were

ALLELUIA

I'm Not In Seminary Any More, But Wish I Was

Every year about this time, I begin to remember the new group of seminarians entering CDSP. At this time, you are not totally exhausted, have probably written one paper and been treated graciously, you've not hit THE WALL, and you still have time to brush your teeth more than once a day. This, too, shall pass. But, I, who never wanted to leave the GTU, find myself thinking of new and older seminarians and graduate students at the GTU. Do not let the great opportunities pass you by. Go to every service and liturgy all over, above, and around Holy Hill. Take plenty of classes outside your own school, particularly the classes at the Jesuit School and the Franciscan School. Take all the Louis and Lizette classes you possibly can. If Rebecca's still teaching and you are not totally intimidated by her brilliance, beauty, and thin-ness, then take her classes. (Remember, our class NEVER had Rebecca and we still want a percentage of return on our fees. We had that horrid but darling Chris King, that only dear RosaLee understood and I love her for it.) Go let J Alfred Smith Sr teach you how to preach without terrorising you. BUT while you are in CDSP, take the time to appreciate the Beauty of (Father Dazzling) Louis' liturgical gestures, "Father" HOLY MOTHER Lizette's grand laughter and good liturgy, the Power and Glory of BOTH their liturgy classes (one as disorganised as Lou-Lou's office; the other as organised as Thomas Aquinas) and love the holy laughter that comes from their classrooms. Not to mention delicious champagne on the last day of class! Invite yourself to Arthur Holder's office for his personal physical and spiritual gorgeousness and a lesson about Bede. His pastoral care for me knew no bounds and I thank him everyday for such lavish giving of himself. Roll around and slide off the pews in Bill Countryman's sermons. His shyness does nothing to hide his very hot and sexy self. I always imagined him in Knights Templar drag and power and had, as half the entire seminary, a huge crush after I'd survived almost a year of a Katercrush, and NO ONE has a clue as to J's gender ANYTHING! Plenty of crushes there, too, but he's so afraid that a good crush is not worth it. I would practice saying clever and smart things to Bill C. only to find myself blushing and stuttering and stammering and mumbling in his presence; could NOT extract a sensible sentence, could only say "Hi, Bill" and run away. Ahhhh and Jay Johnson was teaching and I swear he made me cry EVERY class. His class on the Holy Spirit literally blew me away. I still have an old VHS tape of a Jay class I listen to at least six times a year, just to see him and hear him (I am SUCH a voice slut). I've been blessed to have had some awesome teachers in my nearly sixty years on this earth but, honest to God, Jay Emerson Johson is the ABSOLUTE GREATEST. Thank you, good sir. I'm so glad you are doing what you are doing and I can read the news as opening a CDSP webpage sends me into dehydration of tears, I get so homesick. And thank you for the best line: "This is my body. Take it. Eat it. Get it." You are a hero to many in the struggling GLBT community here in Panamania on the eve of The Pineapple's release SOMEWHERE. Dont forget that the REAL ministry is with Steve and Ron--if the evil one, hired gun of the dean TS, has not fired them. Avoid him--TS-- as best you can. Avoid the dean, too. His boundaries aren't really good--should have been a priest with some stern Kibbey Ruth lessons! (I sat in front of said person at my husband's ordination and with my excellent dog hearing heard every single comment about him. Don't forget, good dean, that there are ALWAYS ears in the church. So did his relative to my right. The whole pew was passing along the words. We bypassed Lou-Lou, though.; no need to disturb the good Father Dazzling.) Margo is awesome. If you need workstudy, beg like hell to work for her. She is a joy; she'll tell you all about Junipurr; she knows ALL the secrets, knows where all the bodies are buried, and would not reveal a one. She also loves a good movie and lunch! Treasure her; surprise her; love her; let her love you back; it's a great gift to give yourself. New seminarians, you are forever in my prayers. Don't rush through these three years by allowing yourself to be formed as "cookie cutter, replacement parts for parish priests"--Jeremy Taylor, Starr King. Get a theological education; there IS a difference! And try to avoid sucking up; it's so obvious and tedious. If you're in a crisis and your life is falling apart (and your precious daddy 2000 miles away is dying a slow and horrid cancer death at 300 cells a day), the RC's will be more generous and caring and compassionate than the Prods, even CDSPers, we not Catholic AND BOTH catholic! (Some famous Jesuit might even tell you that you write like a dream and say that he was shamed by your social justice work. Thank you, John Ryan Donahue; I love you.) We still have that mean Protestant edge. So, too, with most classes at PSR, which is always a surprise. Mary Donovan Turner is a better preacher than Barbara Brown Taylor! And she has no Protestant edge; neither does Archie Smith. I can't say enough wondrous things about Fr. Eddie at JSTB and surely The King O'Neill will challenge and delight ye. Ah, the Celts and their kings. And the Multi-Cultural School and the juicy liturgist at FST and the good sister who, if you are from the US South, will call you "baby" and make you cry because she knows that you need to be called "baby" when your mama is losing her mind and your daddy is dead and knows because you KNOW N'awlins, you won't sue her for calling you "baby" and making you good cry. I can't think of a better place than the GTU for finding twenties and thirties--or even forties-- of the most incredible people in the world, people who will introduce you to God, yourself, others, and the wonders of the loves of their academic lives. Heady and bodily stuff where, even on the worst days, you won't find yourself in the heresy of disconnection. No wonder too many Episcopanglican priests spend their entire lives talking and talking and talking about their seminary years--because they didn't/COULDN"T get enough and for those who say "that once in the real world, you'll use less than ten percent of what you read or learned or heard about in seminary." That's total bullshit. At least for me. But then I wasn't in the Process of my first three years and sorta was under the radar and was CONVINCED I'd NEVER leave. So today, as most days, I miss CDSP, when I knew it. And it was magic and Robert Warren was in Trinity and Herb Caen was still alive and so was Princess Diana. NYC and the world had not blown up and no Bushes were in office. I was one lucky woman; I remain one blessed one. We didn't know what innocent times in which we lived...BOTH Berrigans were still alive, Louie was teaching and so was R3, Andrew was with us, Peach was cranking out papers long before they were due, Frank was still home back in Canada, Pace e Bene was un-corrupted, the Church hadn't threatened to kick us out, we had some hope for Rowan, Assinola was not a household word, Betty Bowers was still a novelty, the Episcopal Church had not broken my heart more than divorce and the deaths of both my parents, and even though WE NEVER HAD REBECCA, Goddammit! we had some innocence. Audie Lou was still around for life-lessons; LaVay was still a cult following; there was hope for peace in ALL the 32 counties of Ireland, the Roark was still alive, and a homeless man thought that Shannon could be my child. But these days, as much as I bitch, I have a honest and trustworthy, not-to-be-bought bishop, a grand husband, two fine cats own me. I have the best womanfriend in the universe who has a fabulous man/husband--thanks be to the God/dess! And I have a grand ministry all my own. I am loved by many great children. And Volcan is not overwhelmed with grinogas YET; and it is still terminally cool on that holy mountain of Mamatatda. I'm sorry I can no longer offer you sex and nudity with the Lutherans on Monday nights as Gerry Pence is no longer there. (It's a joke about a great class that used to be taught at the Lutheran School up there in the Wagnerian mist and fog). DO attend SKSM; they will push you into places you may never find yourself pushed. (While I, who'd been the designated driver of dozens of priests in my life as they drank me under the table and I was far from sober and heard THEIR confessions, I was not shocked to hear a priest and professor say "Fuck" in class as were far too many of my classmates--GROW UP! However at SKSM I was more than a bit taken aback to hear a professor say "pussy" and then I rejoiced because, really, here was someone VERY real and I could relax and get on with life and love this professor dearly. And, if you are like me, you will find your community and your best friend in the whole world--EVER! Dysfunctional dorm family...indeed! THIS was NOT my dysfunctional community, SKSMers in the dorm; it was my own school's pathology and our class's pathology. It was once said of the entering class of '96 "that our bright lights were only dimmed by our overwhelming Shadows." Never a truer word spoken. God, we were a handfull. Still long for Dora Gordon. And wonder about all of us with a true call who had to find another place to be who God has called us to be. Such a tragedy that formation meant all the women had the same haircuts by the second year and most everyone became tedious. One of the librarians with whom I worked could ALWAYS tell immediately when a woman CDSP student entered the door. He was right. We were so driven, so angry, and so afraid. And this, from the second most liberal seminary in the US! But then, I always forgot, that not everyone, including the faculty, came from CA. In fact FEW! Some of us took to CA like a duck out of water and wondered why "our flamboyant manner often offended the sensibilities of others"--this from my middler evaluation. If only the dorm could talk. Doesn't everyone know that everyone lies during the Process? JAYSUS! OOPS, outed us all! Too bad. Either lie or we suck up. Same tedious thing that has nothing to do with our incarnations, does it? Too bad we can't be formed into more of our genuine selves than into something and someone else where former physicians, scientists, musicians and people of great and tremendous talent fought like flies over spilled sugar for the position of sacristan, thereby reducing us to the level of kindergarten. Weird and wonderful at the same time...seminary at CDSP. I guess I came expected to spend my life reading and discussing theology not trying to cram in thousands of words a day and remembering something! Weird and wonderful. It gets better if you do an MA and have time to READ. Ahh. REALLY read something and linger for a while, even if you've got to get those gazillion words on paper. Still it's worth it. Sorry, too, that I cannot offer you Doug Adams, but I imagine his spirit still haunts PSR and the library. Let Art and Beauty soothe you. Let the library heal you (hopefully the mold is gone so it won't make mold-allergic people sick as the floods did me.) Go over to PSR at least once a day. See the chldren and the dogs playing. Things you could be doing, too, including getting pierced and tattoo'd if you had the time. Be sure that "The City That Knows How" still exists and that you COULD get to it to hear Lavay Smith if you just had the time or had friends who kidnapped you and forced you to sweet hot jazz on Friday nights. Ah, sweet Lavay. Some of the best church in eight years! We at CDSP seem to want to think we're Jesuits but because we do not raise up priests that way, we have to cram everything into three years. You'll often wish you were a SKSM student, too, because of Pass/Fail and all the free time they seem to have to actually have a life or even sex! AND if you're female, straight, even semi-smart (even if I was from MS, to quote a seminarian not from the US of another MS seminarian, "that, __, I can't believe you're so smart and come from MS," with me standing right there. WWJD? Smack her? It's what I wanted to do, no Pax Christi vow included.), older than 35, have something of a brain, have a libido, AND are in seminary with the godcard, don't come to Berkeley and the Bay Area expecting to find a man...anywhere! I mean a wife had to die and I had to import a man from MS to have sex with and then marry, even if our hours of sex got us kicked out of seminary housing. Tee hee hee. Tis grand. Other than that, be sure to buy two Hitachi wands at a time because there could be an Hitachi wand shortage as there has been in the past ten years. And one doesn't need the hum to stop before the cum. If you are even thinking about going to seminary EVER, start taking some kind of basic philosophy and bible classes NOW; it will save your ass in the long run. OH, all those years I wasted! It's one of the few things I regret. And attend every liturgy somewhere that you possibly can. On and off campus, because one day you might be in a place like Almirante, a town I have always loathed, in a country like Panama, a place I've always loved; and there IS no daily office; nothing is chanted; the Spanish Psalms are rushed and hurried and crazy-making you crazy if you are a contemplative and relish each word being savored (if you are a contemplative, be sure where you are going, that there IS a monastery for retreats, that there IS a Jesuit church, that there ARE Quakers and Benedictines--or you will lose your mind and half your soul--or you will become a recluse, a hermit, not a bad thing if you have a computer and silence.) And remember, the Third World is NEVER silent; it is always on the move! Dogs bark, women and babies scream, and trucks run 24 hours a day. It's enough to drive you mad, particularly without daily offices and daily Eucharist in a country where only RC's know anything about these. Their RC churches are at least beautiful; which is a comfort. If you plan to sit through a sermon in Spanish in an RC, homophobic country, move to a seat where you cannot possibly hear or just get up and leave the church until the sermon is over, then join the crowd for lliturgy; it's all you have; make the best of it. That and the Beauty of the Roman churches as Episcopanglicans in Panama have no lovely buildings. YAWN. And now while you are still innocent of all the true evil of the church--jealousy--and people who, in their first year, are friendly and nice and kind, BEFORE they turn into mean, focus'd monsters; and if you are not important to their future ministry, will no longer exchange anything but the peace with you--as if they mean it. MEOW! But DO, let the liturgy wash over you and try to avoid the CDSP chapel at the end of the semester; it gets very sick indeed, with current stuff and old stuff. You will NEED the Eucharist, but until the chapel is redone and blessed, go elsewhere, ANYWHERE! A good and thorough cleansing is called for. We tried to sage it but it doesn't last long enough, I am sorry to say. Do. Enjoy. Learn. Make a TRUE friend for a lifetime. AND for God's sake, be sure your spiritual director is NOT an Episco; the church is too small! Love to you all oonagh+ http://www.landoftheanxiousdog.com/files/12-iron_and_wine-the_trapeze_swinger-rtb.mp3 Please, remember me Happily By the rosebush laughing With bruises on my chin The time when We counted every black car passing Your house beneath the hill And up until Someone caught us in the kitchen With maps, a mountain range A piggy bank A vision too removed to mention But Please, remember me Fondly I heard from someone you're still pretty And then They went on to say That the pearly gates Had some eloquent graffiti Like "We'll meet again" And "Fuck the man" And "Tell my mother not to worry" And angels with their great Handshakes Were always done in such a hurry And Please, remember me At Halloween Making fools of all the neighbors Our faces painted white By midnight We'd forgotten one another And when the morning came I was ashamed Only now it seems so silly That season left the world And then returned And now you're lit up by the city So Please, remember me Mistakenly In the window of the tallest tower Calling passers-by But much too high To see the empty road at happy hour Gleam and resonate Just like the gates Around the holy kingdom With words like "Lost and found" And "Don't look down" And "Someone save Temptation" And Please, remember me As in the dream We had as rug-burn babies Among the fallen trees And fast asleep Aside the lions and the ladies That called you what you like And even might Give a gift for your behavior A fleeting chance to see A trapeze Swing as high as any savior But Please, remember me My misery And how it lost me all I wanted Those dogs that love the rain And chasing trains The colored birds above their running In circles around the well And where it spells On the wall behind St. Peter So bright with cinder gray And spray paint "Who the hell can see forever?" And Please, remember me Seldomly In the car behind the carnival My hand between your knees You turned from me And said, "The trapeze act was wonderful But never meant to last" The clown that passed Saw me just come up with anger When it filled with circus dogs The parking lot Had an element of danger So Please, remember me Finally And all my uphill clawing My dear But if I make The pearly gates Do my best to make a drawing Of God and Lucifer A boy and girl An angel kissing on a sinner A monkey and a man A marching band All around the frightened trapeze swingers Na-na Na-na-na Na-na Na-na . . . http://sobeanaggie.imeem.com/music/M17j57l7/hallelujah/