Young Man of the Cloth

Young Man of the Cloth is a memoir of  Dr. Langen's nine years in the Catholic seminary and monastery. It chronicles the development of seminarians in the 1960's through his personal experience. This book provides good background for his book, The Pastor's Inferno.

Young Man of the Cloth

Chapter 1

Beginnings

Arrival

     We arrived at the seminary in mid-afternoon on Wednesday, September 5, 1956 after a short drive from my grandparents’ home in Dunkirk.  I had some idea what to expect from my interview at the seminary during the summer.
     The front of the property was guarded by a six foot iron fence.  All along Route 5, behind the fence, were huge pine trees hiding whatever lay beyond them.  In the center of the trees, a paved road led from the entrance back into the property.
      At the end of the driveway was a circular drive in front of the main entrance, with roads off to the right and left along the front of the building.  In the center of the circle was a large concrete pedestal with a statue of a man holding up a cross whom I took to be a saint. I later learned it was Saint Paul of the Cross, the founder of the Passionist Order which ran the seminary.
     We saw a couple of other cars parked in the front circle and parked there as well, walking up to ring the front doorbell.  The doors were heavy oak and held small windows about face high with a metal grills over them.
     A young student, John, ushered us into one of the front visiting parlors, stocked with cookies, milk and coffee.   He was a boy a little older than myself wearing a black cassock similar to the one I had worn as an altar boy.  He explained that after refreshments, he would give us a quick tour and then it would be time for my parents to leave while I got settled.

The Tour

     The building was quite long with a wide corridor, smelling of fresh wax.  At one end was the kitchen and refectory.  Nothing in the kitchen was of ordinary size.  Coffee was brewed in two large urns.  Huge pots and pans hung from racks over long stainless steel tables. The stoves and ovens were equally large.  Along one wall was the dishwasher which seemed ready for an army’s dishes.
     Off the kitchen was the refectory, which I learned was the seminary name for dining room.  There were rows of tables along each wall, built into the floor with seats backing up to the walls.  In the center of the refectory floor were back to back tables and benches with high backs. Each table had room for eight students.
      We walked along the main corridors, speaking in hushed tones as did other groups of new students, parents and guides.  We stopped briefly to see the Senior Recreation room, known simply as the "Senior Rec," for students in years four, five and six.  Chairs lined the walls and a hi-fi sat in one corner.  One end of the Rec was dominated by a Ping-Pong table and the other by a pool table, both seeing some action during our tour.  The Junior Recreation, or "Junior Rec" for years one, two and three was across the hall, and although laid out a little different, had the same features.
     Next to this room was a door with a translucent window which, upon inquiry, I learned was the "Jakes."  It could have been anything, but I learned this was the seminary term for a toilet.  I guess you had to call it something.
     Further down the corridor on the right was the study hall, a very large room with rows of desks to accommodate all the students at once. It had banks of suspended florescent lights, dark and sterile now since school had not yet begun. The top of each desk opened and had room inside for school supplies. Books could be lined up on a shelf on top.  Although class books had not been distributed yet, there were a few desks already adorned with dictionary, thesaurus and Bible.
     At the back of the study hall was a door, leading to stairs up to the chapel, known as the Choir.  I had seen the Choir before and was rather awed by it.  Visitors sat in the balcony and looked down on rows of benches along the sides and back, reserved for priests and students. The centerpiece of the choir was a twenty foot high mosaic. Christ was portrayed as the High Priest in flowing priestly vestments, wearing a crown and reigning from the Cross.  I had not realized before that the mosaic consisted of many thousands of half inch squares of colored glass.  The planning and effort to produce such a piece was mind boggling, even to me who was not much of an art connoisseur at the time.  There was another entrance near the altar, but it led to the "Main Corridor," off limits to visitors.
     We went back down the stairs and through the study hall to the corridor and passed through doors marking the newer section of the seminary.  Down a side corridor to the left were the chemistry, physics and biology labs, all dark and mysterious in the shadows. Further down the corridor were stairs which led up to the stage, a well equipped facility with  banks of levers to control lighting and ropes to control the curtain.  There were also stairs which led down to the lockers and shower rooms, which were not part of the tour since they might be in use and not appropriate for families to visit.
     The tour ended in a huge gym which doubled as an auditorium.  There were baskets at both ends and four more along the sides of the gym.  Several were already in use as we passed through. On the far side of the gym were doors leading to handball and squash courts.  I had never heard of either sport, but they looked vigorous and sweaty from what I could see of the players through the little windows in the doors.

Moving in

     We returned to the visiting room where John told me he would help me with my trunk after I said good-bye to my parents.  I took the hint and after hugs and kisses all around, walked out to the car with my parents and John.  We worked the trunk out of the car and, after my parents drove off waving, lugged the trunk into the seminary and up to the fourth floor dormitory where I would sleep.
     I was assigned a bed fairly close to the Jakes. Looking around the dorm, I noticed partitions dividing the dormitory into sections accommodating eight students each. The accommodations consisted of bunk beds with a pillow, sheets and two old army blankets and a wardrobe.  Inside the wardrobe clothes could be hung on one side and shoes, shirts and underwear could be stowed on shelves on the other side.
     I was left in the dorm to get settled and met several other students in the process.  It was amazing how your whole life could suddenly be compacted into one steamer trunk.  Before I had things in my room, downstairs closets, the cellar, garage and, according to my father, everywhere he was trying to walk.  Now my whole life was in a trunk.
     I got everything transferred to my wardrobe and wondered what to do with my trunk.  Jim, who had arrived before me, offered to help me with my trunk if I would help him with his.  Back down the four flights of stairs we went, with trunks much more manageable than on the way up.
     This time we went out the back door past the bank of garages, the tractor and army truck, past the "Men's House" and the pig sty. We came to a Quonset hut with long wooden shelves to hold the trunks until they were needed again in June.
     We stopped at the pig sty on the way back. A sour stench emanated from a dozen of the huge animals wallowing in the mud and grunting in low pig-tones, always expecting that if someone entered they were about to be fed. We disappointed them that time. Jim told me they ate boiled table scraps and sometimes apples from the orchard on the other side of the trunk shed. When they got big enough they were slaughtered and provided meat for the seminary.
     As we walked back to get Jim's trunk, I asked him about the "Men's House."  It was a bit mysterious to him, but the best he knew, drifters would stop by from time to time for a handout at lunch or dinner time and knew, by their own lore, that a free hot meal could be counted on with no questions asked. Sometimes one of these drifters would be taken on to work at the seminary in the kitchen, laundry, boiler room or around the grounds. They were under the direction of one of the Brothers, another category of people I would have to find out about.
     The men were generally illiterate, remained scruffy, even after they were settled in the Men's House and were usually given wide berth by all concerned, except for the Brothers who directed their work. Jim did not know whether they were paid or just worked for their keep. They were mostly non-communicative and some were quite slow, based on the limited conversations he had with them.  It seemed to be an unwritten rule that the men were not to be bothered. However teenage boys, albeit seminarians, could not help a fascination with the workmen and their silent, somewhat grumpy, ways and made fun of their difference.  So far I had not met any of the men, and was not sure I wanted to.
     After both our trunks were stowed, Jim suggested I might want to take my gym and swimming stuff downstairs to the locker room and then see about a cassock in the tailor shop at the back of the Junior Rec. I thought I could find these destinations after my brief tour and set off on my first exploratory adventure.  The locker room consisted of a long room with descending stairs, reached from either side of the stage.  Lockers lined the whole length of the locker room with a couple of side rooms also lined with lockers.
     Modesty prevailed in the locker room.  No one was nude anywhere. People walking back and forth from the shower were wrapped in a towel.  When towels were set aside to dress, bathers were already clad in underwear. The protocol was to undress at your locker but keep your old underpants on and wrap in your towel.  In the shower, old underwear was removed and, after showering, new shorts were donned before leaving the shower cubicle.
     The shower facility itself also bespoke modesty.  Each shower consisted of two stalls.  The outer one was covered by a shower curtain and had a bench as well as hooks for underwear and towels. The inner stall was the shower itself, separated from the outer stall by a white shower curtain.
     These were individual showers, not communal ones. The modesty of all this seemed overdone to me. I thought back to swimming at the CYO in Rochester where we left all our clothes in lockers, showered together in the nude and then swam equally nude. I did not have a great body but thought the measures to conceal flesh were a little extreme.  I took it for granted and did not openly question at the time why such extensive measures were necessary.
     Having stowed things in my locker, I decided to visit the tailor shop.  As I was leaving the locker room, I realized I did not have a lock for my locker and noticed no one else did either.  Not that any of us had anything of value to protect.  I decided things must be pretty safe here.
     I recalled that the tailor shop was in the back of the Junior Rec.  I made my way past a pool and Ping-Pong game in progress and found the tailor shop humming with activity.  Several new students were rummaging through a rack of old cassocks to find one their approximate size.  One student was being measured by Brother Vincent, an older man with an Irish brogue and a very pleasant temperament. He was checking neck, waist, shoulder and other dimensions and writing them all down in his notebook under the student's name.
     Brother Vincent wore the habit which we would all wear one day, assuming we stayed in the seminary long enough.  It was a little different from a cassock in that it was made of heavy wool, had a pattern sewn into the neck and breast area, closed with hooks rather than snaps and had an inside pocket.  He wore a thick leather belt, held together by a leather thong, allowing for expansion and contraction of girth.
     Sandals were the ordinary footwear of the priests and brothers.  They appeared well made but were not of a design I had ever seen before.  I learned they were hand cut and sewn to each individual's feet.  From the belt hung a rosary on one side, perhaps four or so feet long if stretched out.  It was attached at the back and looped over the belt. On the left breast was a badge, I learned was called "the Sign," consisting of a cross with a heart beneath it, containing the words, "Jesu Xri Passio" which meant the Passion of Jesus Christ in a combination of Latin and Greek.
     Brother Vincent told me to find a cassock which fitted me while I waited for him to measure me. After finding one which fit fairly well, it was my turn to be measured.  He told me I would wear the cassock I found on the rack until my new one was ready for final fitting in about a week or so.  He would let me know when it was ready.
     As I left, I realized I did not know what a Brother was. He did not fit the description of a workman.  He did not seem to be a priest but was certainly of a different station than the students.  I would have to find out what Brothers were.  

Getting Settled

     Having gotten about as settled as I could, I wondered what else was in store for the rest of the day.  One of the pool players in the Junior Recreation told me there was a schedule on the bulletin board across from the study hall.  I wandered down and found the bulletin board across from the study hall between two doors with signs, Director of Students and Assistant Director.
     Sure enough, there was a schedule for the rest of the day.  Rosary at 6:00, dinner at 6:30, recreation from 7:00 to 9:30.  I went back to the Junior Recreation and found out we were expected to be in the choir with cassocks on at 6:00.
     At  5:45, I heard a loud bell, which I discovered was the first bell, notifying us of time for prayer and meditation.  Eight minutes  later the second bell started.  I was in the Choir when I heard the third and last bell.  It turned out there was a pattern for each of the three bells. The first consisted of 1 triple ring and 12 double rings. The second consisted of 2 triple rings and 12 doubles.  The third was 3 triples, 60 doubles and 12 single rings. We prayed the rosary and had meditation which was foreign to me.  I spent the time thinking about the day's events and the newness of my surroundings.
     The priests filed into their refectory while we students veered off into our own refectory.  Two priests went to the head table.  All the rest of the students seemed to know where to go except us new ones.  We were directed to our tables and lined up standing in front of the tables, in a certain order shown us.
     I wondered how they decided on our seating order.  One of the priests introduced himself as the Director of Students, Father Brendan, and the other as the Assistant Director, Father Justin. We did not sit initially, but stood before our places for more pre-meal prayer.  After the prayers, Father Brendan told us we had been lined up in Dean Order.  All of the students were arranged in order of the date they had been accepted into the seminary, and this would remain our order for all activities throughout our seminary days.  We were told we could sit and were  also allowed to talk during dinner, which was apparently not an everyday occurrence.
     I learned that there were twenty-six students in our class, the largest the seminary had ever had and a sign of good times to come for the order.  I was in the middle of the twenty-six and did not give much thought to my place in order.  It did mean that I had to wait for those before me to be served dinner, but it was not a big deal. 
     Once we were sorted out, had prayed in Latin and were seated, several students came out of the kitchen with bowls and platters, starting with the priests' table and then those of the older students, working their way down to us.  Meat was served first on our individual plates.  Then followed bowls of vegetables, and potatoes, if they were not served with the meat. Dishes were started at one end of the table and collected by the serving student at the other end of the table, unless they ran out on the way and then they were refilled.  I noticed that the older students made hand signals after which salt, pepper, milk and butter would be passed along.  These were apparently signals for the times we would not be allowed to speak but still had the need for condiments.
    After all were served and seconds offered, if available,  the serving students returned the bowls to the kitchen and reemerged with their own plates of food.  When the meal was deemed finished, the director rang a little bell and everyone stood before their table, said a few more prayers in Latin and filed out of the refectory in the same order they had arrived in.  The serving students who had not yet finished eating, as well as any slower students, stayed behind to finish their supper while everyone else went to the chapel for more prayers and then to their respective recreation rooms for announcements.

 Tour of the Property

     I had not really seen the property but found another student, Brian, from Toronto, who was interested in a walk.  We saw others going down the road past the Men's House, pigs and orchard and decided to follow them.  On the left was the apple orchard with apples starting to turn red and some falling.  We picked a couple and found them rather sour.  I had never picked an apple from a tree before. Further down the road, we came to a cemetery on the right and then a fork in the road with a crucifix covered by a wooden roof with the words above, "Hawthorn Rood."   The students before us stopped to say a prayer and started down the road to the right along the lake.  We asked them about the prayer and road to the left.  We were to say three "Glory Be to the Father's" for the Novices who had graduated from the Holy Cross and gone on to the next stage of their seminary training. The road to the left was the entrance to the "Priests' Park," reserved for priests and brothers and was off limits to students except on special occasions.  We said our own quick prayers and followed them to the right.  Along the dirt road, we could see Lake Erie through the trees and discovered we were walking along the edge of a small shale cliff and could hear the waves lapping below.
     Further on we came to tennis courts, an outdoor handball court and ball field.  On the left along the cliffs was a wooden structure with benches where it was possible to sit  and watch the lake as well as the sunset.  It was called "the Pagoda" (or beach house), which also housed changing booths underneath it for swimmers.  Down the pagoda stairs was the beach, mostly shale and very little sand.  It might be a bit rough on the feet from what I could see.     Still further along the road was a shrine of the Blessed Virgin where it was also the custom to stop and say three "Hail Mary's." Further down at the northeast corner of the road, a path led down to the lake.  We decided to follow it and discovered the dump where refuse was burned.   Past that was the mouth of  Canadaway Creek which got its name because it was directly across the lake from Canada.  One of the more astute students also observed that one of the battles of the War of 1812 was fought right there by Commodore Perry.  It was hard to imagine ships in the creek or why either side would choose this remote spot for a battle.  Wondering about this, we returned to the main road and continued around the property with tall fir trees on the left and the ball fields on the right.  We were soon back at the seminary building and decided to sit on the grass for a while before going in.  The sky turned strong with reds, oranges and yellows as it grew darker.  We eventually went inside and sat in the recreation room for a while, watching others play Ping-Pong or pool.  I realized I would have to do some practicing before competing with the current combatants.
     Eventually  someone flicked the light and everyone grew silent as they filed out into the corridor and knelt down. Father Director made several announcements, asked all to pray for "our benefactors and those who recommended themselves to our prayers" and blessed us. We then made our way to the chapel for individual night prayers, and then on to the dormitories in silence.

     There were no showers in the Jakes of the dormitory.  Everyone seemed to visit the Jakes, some stopping for prolonged washing, grooming and teeth brushing while others headed directly for bed.    Lights were turned off and people began changing into pajamas.  It was apparently okay to strip down to the nude in the semi-darkness of the dorm and change into pajamas.

Evening Reflections

    I got into bed, feeling tired after the day's adventures, hoping to get to sleep.  Still I found myself with eyes wide open, a lump in my throat and stomach and feelings I could not identify.  I eventually realized I was lonely, sad and homesick.  I had been away to boy scout camp and to visit relatives, but never had to sleep among complete strangers.
     I missed the comfort of my family and the familiarity of my room and belongings as I lay in the cold anonymity of the dormitory.  I had a top bunk because one happened to be open when I arrived and I thought I might like one for some reason. It provided me a good view.  Some students slid quickly into bed while others stayed up in the dark to practice their exercises.  A couple of more developed exercisers included one handed pushups in which they held one wrist with the other hand and sidled down into a sideways pushup.  Others came up quickly and clapped their hands together in front of them and landed back on them for the next pushup.  Still others were content with regular pushups.  I did not see the point and was satisfied going to leep with no pushups.
     After falling asleep, I dreamed of home and everything I knew there.  Nothing here was familiar and each hour seemed to hold new expectations of behavior which were quite foreign to me.  I supposed I could get used to it.  I seemed to think I would just be a priest magically and did not consider all the steps of going through high school, college, the novitiate, and monastic seminary for philosophy and theology before ordination.  A long road and I had only completed one day.  Maybe I would be more at peace with the reality of what I had chosen in the morning.

Getting Settled

     I woke to the incessant bell again and discovered it was already about seven in the morning, almost an hour and a half past the usual time to arise.  A bonus, as it were.  After a quick trip to the Jakes and a splash of water on my face, I was back in the Choir trying to wake up for morning Mass and meditation. We arose at the 7:00 AM Sunday time as we did for the rest of the week. During the regular school schedule, we arose at 5:45 AM, for Prime and Mass at 6:00.  
     Breakfast consisted of cereal, fresh bread and butter, milk, and coffee.  I had never been a coffee drinker up to the ripe age of thirteen but could not resist the aroma.  With enough sugar and milk it was not half bad.
     The first few days were busy with getting settled, meeting each other and being fitted for cassocks. The first day of our regular schedule was Sunday. Checking the schedule on Saturday night, I learned there was a public Mass on Sunday at 10:30 which we were all expected to attend It was also broadcast over the radio, usually narrated by Father Coleman, as it was today.  He sat in a booth in the back of the balcony and narrated the Mass as it progressed.  The red light was on above the booth signaling that broadcast was underway.  We had all gone to Holy Communion at the earlier Mass at 7:15 AM, so only a few people from the community came down from the balcony to receive communion at the kneeler just outside the Choir.  I did not see anyone in the balcony I recognized.  I later learned that the 10:30 AM Mass was usually a High Mass accompanied by our singing, with the exception of today since the choir, consisting of all the students, had not yet had time to practice anything.
     Father Brendan said the Mass and took time at the beginning of his sermon to formally welcome the returning and new students as the future of the Passionist Order and wished us all well in our studies.  He was a good speaker and pursued the topic of new beginnings which each of us were making and referred to the apostles leaving everything they knew to follow Jesus.  Although I was not wandering around Palestine following Jesus, I could relate to the part about leaving everything I knew.
     After Mass we returned to the recreation room where we were told we would have time for our chores if we had not finished them before 10:30 Mass.  There was a list on the bulletin board assigning each student to a particular "office" or job for the rest of the school year.  Some were easy, such as dusting and straightening the students' recreation rooms. Some were envied, such as the priests' recreation room, with bowls of candy on the table, occasionally sampled as one cleaned.  The least attractive job of cleaning the various Jakes throughout the building. 
     We were again allowed to talk during lunch and made plans for baseball in the afternoon, actually softball.  I had played catch throughout my childhood, and also practiced batting but we never had enough kids together for actual teams.  There was Little League, but only for the elite players.
     After lunch, the schedule said we were free until 5:15.  There seemed to be many different plans for the afternoon.  Several groups formed to walk the several miles into Dunkirk or Fredonia.  Since both towns were quite familiar to me, they did not hold much fascination, and I decided to stay on the property for the day.  By the time I decided what I wanted to do, the tennis and handball courts were spoken for.  There were some people headed for the beach with towels and a group of students of various ages warming up for a softball game. I had never played an actual softball game and decided it was time to have a go at it.  I warmed up in the outfield and when there seemed to be enough people to start a game, everyone gathered in the infield where two of the older students were agreed on as captains.
     The captains took turns choosing players until I was left with a few other younger, inexperienced players, praying not to be chosen last.  Finally I was chosen and immediately identified with my team for the day, forgetting the relative embarrassment of the order of my choice.
     The captains must have been watching the warm-ups.  I was placed in left field where it seemed I could do the least damage.  I returned to thoughts about how long it took me to be chosen.  A few balls were hit in my direction with yelled instructions to throw the ball to first or second base which I did fairly accurately.  When the pitchers seemed warmed up, one of the students who volunteered to act as umpire yelled, "Play ball" and the extra softballs were thrown to the side of the field.
     There were no dugouts or uniforms. The teams sat on the row of bleachers along the first and third base lines with a few spectators in the higher rows.  Our first baseman seemed to have an idea where each of the opposing batters might hit and moved us further in or out or more to one side or the other.
     When a ball came in my direction, shouts came with it telling me which base to throw the ball to.  I was not highly accurate in the game but did get the ball in the general direction as required and even caught one fly ball for an out.
     When we finally got our third out after a couple runs by the opposition, our team was up.  I was placed in the middle of the order since my at-bat did not have any strategic significance to our captain and with good reason. I was quite nervous about my turn when it came up.  One of our runners was on second base and there were two outs.  My teammates urged me to hit it short into the outfield and also yelled mild taunts at the pitcher about his arm  while the other team yelled their strategy to each other and also encouraged their pitcher with taunts directed at me, consisting mostly of, "No batter."
     I managed to get a piece of one pitch and recognized two balls.  I surprised myself by hitting the ball rather than striking out, even though my hit was an infield grounder which retired our side rather easily.   I was encouraged with sentiments of, "Nice try" and did not feel chastised for ending the inning.  The game progressed that way without my distinguishing or embarrassing myself in any way.  As the game continued, I began to see why some of the players were chosen earlier than others and realized it would be a while before my stock rose.
     In the middle of the game, another potential player arrived.  Since each team only had eight players, he was asked to find someone else to play as well, which he did a few minutes later.  At the end of the inning, both players were admitted, our team getting the better player since we were behind at the time.
     Toward the end of the game, the outside bell rang and everyone made a beeline to the entrance by the gym where a stainless steel cart soon appeared.  On top was a cauldron of "bug juice" which tasted remarkably like Kool Aid.  On the second shelf was a tray of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.  There was not any particular decorum with everyone jostling for a place near the cart, grabbing sandwiches and looking for a turn at the ladle with all thoughts of prayers or "dean order" out the window.
     This was in stark contrast to the quite orderly meals in the refectory. The snack, known as a "lunch" was devoured in a matter of minutes.  It was a frenzy with everyone for himself, reminding me of a movie I had once seen about piranhas.  When the cart had been picked clean, it was wheeled back inside and we returned to the softball game, momentarily refreshed. We won by one run which gave us a good feeling although there was nothing at stake and I would probably never play with this particular set of teammates again.
     When the game was finished, I walked around, watching people play tennis and handball which were both foreign to me, but seemed interesting.  I ended up sitting on a towel on the beach for a while, trying to get as comfortable as possible on the shale, watching and listening to the small waves lapping on the shore.  Several students walked gingerly into the lake due to the shale bottom until it was deep enough to swim.  I was feeling lazy and just sat and watched the lake until the outside bell announced it was half an hour to chapel.
     Being grubby from baseball and sitting on the beach, I stopped by the locker room for a shower.  I was careful to stop undressing when I got to my underpants and wrapped a towel around me for the walk to the shower room.  I finished undressing within the other stall and entered the inner sanctum to shower.  It seemed odd to hear other showers running but to be so isolated.  I wondered again why it was so important not to see anyone else naked, although I did not feel any particular sense of modesty or interest in seeing anyone else's body.  As far as my own body was concerned, I noticed I was starting to develop underarm and pubic hair and that my penis and testicles seemed a little bigger than they were before.  I also found recently that it was more important to shower regularly and use deodorant so I  did not have BO which seemed a matter of concern stirred up by those less conscientious about hygiene. 
     After showering, and dressing, I put my underwear in a laundry bag.  Everyone had one and kept dirty clothing in it. Once a week, the accumulated laundry bags were sent out to a local Laundromat and returned in the same bag the following week. Our parents were billed on a monthly basis for this laundry service.
     I had to go back up to the fourth floor to get my cassock and down to the Choir on the second floor for Solemn Compline and Benediction.  I was directed to the front bench and given a Latin book of prayer. I opened my prayer book and found Compline toward the end of the day's prayers. Everything was written in Latin and all was incomprehensible to me. There was no clue how to pronounce any of the words.  It was like learning to be an altar boy all over again, but with many more words.
     When the bell stopped ringing, one of the students intoned a prayer, "Jube Domne benedicere" (Father, your blessing please.) directed toward the presiding priest.  He in turn responded by assuring God's blessing on the end of the day and oncoming night. The student gave a scriptural warning, "Fratres, sobrii estote et vigilate, quia adversarius vester Diabolus, tamquam leo rugiens, circuit querens quem devoret. Cui resistite fortes in fide. Tu, autem, Domine, miserere nobis." I also learned much later that this meant, "Be sober and watchful, because your adversary, the Devil, like a roaring lion, goes about seeking someone to devour. Resist him strongly in faith. But You, O Lord, have mercy on us." Certainly a sobering thought. The response from the rest of us was, " Deo Gratias." (Thanks be to God.)
     After that, everyone turned toward their prayer books and began singing in a melodic chant what I assumed was Compline, although I could not follow any of it, much less do any chanting of my own.  Compline was followed by Benediction, exposition of the Blessed Sacrament just as we had done it in St. Charles Church at home. After Benediction, the Rector led the priests out of the chapel.  Next the students began to leave, the older ones first, we new recruits bringing up the rear, heading for the refectory.
      At supper, we went through the same ritual of standing for prayers in front of our refectory table and then sat in our assigned places.  This time we were not allowed to talk while eating.  One student began reading from a spiritual book, standing at a raised pulpit, in front of the refectory.  After a while, he was replaced by another student who read during the rest of the meal, while the first student got his dinner plate from the kitchen, since all the plates had been given out and the bowls had already been passed.  After dinner, we returned to the Choir for the Angelus and a prayer to the Guardian Angel before recreation, our regular practice after dinner and supper.  Next we went to our respective recreation rooms and stood around the wall of the room in silence. In the Junior Rec, Father Justin asked for "Sentiment," a spiritual thought shared by a student whose turn it was for that day and then called out the names of any students who has received mail, which he placed on the Ping Pong table. Father Justin finished with evening announcements as did Father Brendan for the senior students.
     At this time, we learned that school was to start the next morning and that the daily schedule would be listed on the bulletin board.  We would not have study times that evening since classes had not yet started.  We would have free time until 9:30 PM.
     Most of the students chose to sit in the recreation room, listening to music or playing Ping-Pong or pool, while a few chose basketball, mostly just shooting baskets. No formal games of any sort seemed to develop in the evening. Along with some others, I chose to walk around the road which formed the perimeter of the property.
     On the walk, I learned that all of the new students had been assigned a "companion" to help them get oriented.  I had not met mine and did not have any burning questions as yet, taking each hour as it came. I also learned it was up to the older companion to find the younger one, so I did not worry about  it. I just decided to bide my time and follow the crowd.  I also learned something about particular friendships or cliques which developed without the blessing of the seminary administration.  These ideas seemed a little vague to me. I had several best friends at home with whom I spent most of my time and others whom I knew but was not particularly close to.  It seemed there was a warning against close friendships, although it seemed quite natural to me to have a few close friends.  Particular friendships usually consisted of two students who spent most of their time together to the exclusion of others. Cliques were exclusive groups of several students, who did the same. I decided I would have a look around to see if I could find any particular friendships or cliques and see what they looked like. I wasn't quite sure what was so bad about these relationships and did not think to ask my fellow walkers.
     Eventually it was time to go to the choir again for brief individual night prayers and then on to bed in silence. I was still not clear about when we were permitted to talk, thinking this might be a good question for my companion, as well as about cliques and particular friendships.
     After lights out, the usual exercise crowd went into action with various kinds of push-ups and other exercise which could be done without equipment. Eventually even they tired and got ready for bed. Apparently it was not required to go into the Jakes to change into pajamas, although a few people did. Once lights were out, those still not in bed stripped down to the nude and then dressed in pajamas before climbing into bed.
     I was not quite ready for sleep and was lying with my eyes open thinking over the day's events. My eye noticed one particular student undressing with his back to me. As he bent over to remove his underpants, I noticed that he had particularly well formed buttocks. I also felt some kind of stirring within me which was quite unfamiliar. I could not take my eyes off him and wished he had undressed more slowly.  Eventually I realized that this stirring was similar to the feeling I had during the two wet dreams I had before coming to the seminary and were of a somewhat sexual nature. Before I had time to think much more about what had just happened, I fell asleep and forgot about the feelings.

Reflections

     I had learned a great deal in a very short time.  Other than getting up in the morning, eating and going to bed at night, my life had completely changed. Although religion had been an important part of my life in the past, my days now revolved around prayer and going to the choir several times a day. Each day began and ended with a  prayer.  Each meal and class began with a prayer. None of this was a surprise, since I had expected the seminary to focus on prayer. I accepted my new routine and it soon became my normal way of life.
     I was just beginning my seminary years and realized there was a long way to go. Sometimes I wondered how all the little pieces of my new life would add up to the priesthood and what my life would be like when I finally got there. We were not given a master plan and did not know all that would follow or even the next step we would be asked to take. For now, it was enough to take one day at a time and see where life led.

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