What Happens at Seminary STAYS at Seminary!

Today, I saw a Facebook post from my seminary welcoming the new class of budding theologians and ministers, this, after learning earlier this week that a good friend had also decided to take the plunge and embark on a seminary education. It was twenty years ago this month that I was busily packing and preparing for the start of my own seminary education. I was a nervous and excited twenty-one year old who was in the process of adjusting my frame of reference from college student to college graduate. And now, I was having to shift again, from college graduate to seminarian. 

Seminarian - just the weight of the word was imposing and mysterious. It meant so many things. A seminarian was someone in training for a life in ministry. A seminarian was someone interested in the serious study of God and faith. This wasn't undergrad where majoring in Art History was what you did because you liked Monet, yet harbored no career ambitions in the field. Being in seminary was a declaration of your vocation - hereafter known as the V-word. That I'd never used the V-word before seminary was no matter, because it would become a familiar and consistent part of my speech for the next three years, starting with my arrival on campus.

When I arrived for orientation, it was a bit like walking into one of those after-work networking events, where the room is filled with people grouped into little clumps feverishly introducing themselves, playing the "do you know___?" or "have you read___?" or "what did you think of ____?" game. It's the intellectual's version of the 15-year-old girl eye roll/stare down, in which one instantly sizes up the other. Looking around the room I saw a lot of people around my parents' age, which, at the time, was in their fifties. Some of these people had adult children and even grandchildren. Some of them were retired from their careers, and some had grown children and even grandchildren. They were active in their home churches and they welcomed the new challenges of a seminary education.  

There was an even larger presence of people that were in their late twenties/early thirties who I'll call "The Superstars." A lot of this group had been on mission trips, and they liked to toss out terms like "CPE" and "Tillichian". These were the guys with the face stubble, corduroy jacket, Seattle grunge/pre-Hipster, look - you know, the smart but nerdy guys who would one day be the "cool" professors who would make religious studies and theology the next big thing. Their female equivalents were the womyn's studies, religious femme fatales, listening to Tori Amos and seeking to dismantle the dysfunctional church and its fixation with a male-only God. Both sides played nice, but you knew that at any moment, they would throw down "Anchorman" style in a Boston back-alley if there was a discussion of the phallic elements of the traditional pulpit architectural design. 

And then, there were the 40-somethings, most of whom were married, or recently divorced. A lot of them had children, and almost all of them had left jobs and careers in order to follow their call to ministry to seminary. I felt the worst for these people. Some of them had relocated into an expensive city with husbands or wives and children in tow, sacrificing annual salaries, health benefits, and their established networks of support (extended family, friends, neighbors, churches). I also, though, admired them and I was jealous of their faith and their faithfulness. They truly believed! And they didn't waste a minute of their time. They studied the hardest, and with a laser focus on the practical applications of what they learned. They spoke with the most passion and conviction about their lives in the church and their dreams for the church. They were and remain for me inspirational. 

By the end of that day, I knew that seminary would be the most interesting place I had ever been. It was as if I were lifting the veil on a place that had been shrouded in the deepest of mystery, you know, like that first time you see a drag queen with her wig off but still in her dress! I remember when I was in the first grade in Catholic school, our teacher was Sister Dorothy, the coolest nun EVER! She was always in good spirits, and constantly encouraging us to do our best and to enjoy life. One day before the Christmas break, we were having a classroom party with cookies and Kool-Aid punch when, high on all of that high-fructose corn syrup, we fell on Sister Dorothy, tickling her and taking off her veil, and then we saw it - Sister Dorothy apparently had HAIR on her head!!!?? 

Still laughing as we helped her up, she retrieved the veil and the bobby pens now scattered at her feet, and reattached her veil. But it didn't matter, we had seen her humanity, had seen behind the veil. I would have that same feeling during my time at seminary. So, for all of you beginning your seminary journey, don't be afraid to see what's behind the veil. It can overwhelm you as new mysteries are revealed during your education. But, don't let "seminary" intimidate you, oh, and don't tickle a nun - they're not all as nice as Sister Dorothy:)