4: Moving into a Monastery
Chaminade High School and I share a sometimes bumpy but ultimately rewarding past. The very short version of the story, which I'll mention here briefly, is that I attended the school my freshman year before promptly failing out.
I was crushed, and my life was over, as far as I was concerned. My three best friends went to Chaminade, and several more besides, so I felt like a total failure not just in school but in life as well. My friends were still on the inside, and I was now on the outside, no longer allowed to attend classes there. I was only 15 years old, a smart but very fragile kid, so the trauma of failing out scarred me good.
Fast forward only three years later though, and that same shy boy who'd failed out and was told he could no longer be a student at the school was now about to live there, with plans to possibly teach there one day too. Talk about a quick turnaround. The inspirational story I'd one day tell my students was already half-written in my head.
In today's reflection, I'd like to tell you about the day I made my triumphant return to the high school–in a completely unexpected way–by answering God's call to be a monk. Today's blog entry is about the 29th day of June in the year 1993, the day I moved into the brothers' house at Chaminade High School, and became Brother Sean.
I'd just turned 18 the month before, and graduated high school from nearby Kellenberg only two weeks earlier. Though I'd been invited to Chaminade High School and even into the brothers' house a few times that spring, this was to be the big day at last: move-in day. No turning back now!
I'd said my goodbyes to all my family and friends in the weeks prior, packed up a few things I was bringing along with me, and then after a brief 20-minute drive from Rockville Centre to Mineola, I was there. It was all happening. I got out of my parents' car and shook the hands of my recruiter, Father Tom Cardone, my future Novice Master, Father Frank Keenan, and my future Assistant Novice Master, Brother Michael Gillen. It was a beautiful summer day, the hot sun was shining down brightly, and I was 100% ready to begin my brand new life as a monk.
My parents and I were invited into my new home so they could finally see where I'd be living, including my new bedroom up on the second floor. It was the first time I got to see my new room too, and I remember being very pleasantly surprised.
Not only did I have my own office space inside the room, but I also
had a small sink and mirror, a beautiful view of the high school's
courtyard, and even my own TV with cable! Though my private toilet and
shower were down the hall a bit, the accommodations themselves were all
significantly better than I'd expected. Still extremely basic, of
course, but all great. The brothers are able to live
very simple lives for a very low cost per
person across the board, but neither do they live in total squalor. It
was much better than I had back at my parents' house too, where I'd
grown up sharing a room with three brothers and a bathroom and shower
used by 10 other people.
We were shown some other parts of the house I'd seen before, and several I had not. We walked through the downstairs living room, dining room, kitchen, and library, and then up to my new bedroom before they showed my parents the upstairs living room on the fourth floor/rooftop level of the building.
Throughout the tour, my parents asked my new religious superiors some of the many questions on their minds, probably along the lines of how often they'd get to see me and what my schedule would be like.
We took a few pictures together next, and then, all too quickly, I was hugging and kissing them goodbye, and telling them I'd be in touch soon. I waved goodbye, and that was that. Suddenly I was the one on the inside, even more inside than before, and all my friends and family were living on the outside, unable to ever come in.
Back in my room and now on my own, I unpacked my things and got comfortable, as various brothers and priests stopped by at different times throughout the afternoon to say hello. At this point, everyone was still Father this and Brother that. Though I eventually grew comfortable calling them by their first names only, on this day and for several months afterward, I still called them by their title, the names familiar to me while I was a student at one of the high schools they ran.
Also joining the community that day were three guys my age who had all just graduated from Chaminade. I didn't remember them from my freshman year there, but I had met all three on different occasions in the months before we entered the religious life. Three of us even attended a house party together just weeks earlier, a bon voyage of sorts thrown at one their houses.
All four of us were given bedrooms not very far apart, with one guy right across the hall from me and the other two just down the hall. It was extremely helpful for me to have others my age to talk to that first day and on so many days over the next four years of our lives together. I'll have much more to share on our dynamics as friends and fellow "young brothers" in future blog entries.
So was I nervous about entering a monastery? Falling asleep in a monastery? Waking up and showering in a monastery? Yes! Of course I was very nervous! But more than that, I was excited! I was following God's calling, and the honeymoon stage of this great new adventure ahead of me was still at least a year away from ending.
This was a religious order though, and the order of this order, the schedule specifically, was a critical component of absolutely everything else that followed.
It was an extremely difficult challenge in some ways for an 18-year-old to get used to, but much more often than not, the schedule actually held us all together more than I ever would have dreamed it could. As I soon learned, the schedule was the road we all walked on together, and we needed it to make us feel safe and secure at all times.
Some things never, ever changed, and that was a gift, while other small changes became that much more exciting when they popped up.
Knowing where I had to be every second of the day made my life much easier to navigate, and receiving the new schedule each week? It was like receiving another wonderful new invitation to more community with my brothers.
Coming Next Week: A Life of Time
I was crushed, and my life was over, as far as I was concerned. My three best friends went to Chaminade, and several more besides, so I felt like a total failure not just in school but in life as well. My friends were still on the inside, and I was now on the outside, no longer allowed to attend classes there. I was only 15 years old, a smart but very fragile kid, so the trauma of failing out scarred me good.
Fast forward only three years later though, and that same shy boy who'd failed out and was told he could no longer be a student at the school was now about to live there, with plans to possibly teach there one day too. Talk about a quick turnaround. The inspirational story I'd one day tell my students was already half-written in my head.
In today's reflection, I'd like to tell you about the day I made my triumphant return to the high school–in a completely unexpected way–by answering God's call to be a monk. Today's blog entry is about the 29th day of June in the year 1993, the day I moved into the brothers' house at Chaminade High School, and became Brother Sean.
 |
| The brothers' house, or monastery as I often call it, is attached to Chaminade High School. The brothers' chapel, just in view with the stained glass windows there on the right side of this image, is also used for small student gatherings. |
I'd just turned 18 the month before, and graduated high school from nearby Kellenberg only two weeks earlier. Though I'd been invited to Chaminade High School and even into the brothers' house a few times that spring, this was to be the big day at last: move-in day. No turning back now!
I'd said my goodbyes to all my family and friends in the weeks prior, packed up a few things I was bringing along with me, and then after a brief 20-minute drive from Rockville Centre to Mineola, I was there. It was all happening. I got out of my parents' car and shook the hands of my recruiter, Father Tom Cardone, my future Novice Master, Father Frank Keenan, and my future Assistant Novice Master, Brother Michael Gillen. It was a beautiful summer day, the hot sun was shining down brightly, and I was 100% ready to begin my brand new life as a monk.
My parents and I were invited into my new home so they could finally see where I'd be living, including my new bedroom up on the second floor. It was the first time I got to see my new room too, and I remember being very pleasantly surprised.
We were shown some other parts of the house I'd seen before, and several I had not. We walked through the downstairs living room, dining room, kitchen, and library, and then up to my new bedroom before they showed my parents the upstairs living room on the fourth floor/rooftop level of the building.
Throughout the tour, my parents asked my new religious superiors some of the many questions on their minds, probably along the lines of how often they'd get to see me and what my schedule would be like.
We took a few pictures together next, and then, all too quickly, I was hugging and kissing them goodbye, and telling them I'd be in touch soon. I waved goodbye, and that was that. Suddenly I was the one on the inside, even more inside than before, and all my friends and family were living on the outside, unable to ever come in.
Back in my room and now on my own, I unpacked my things and got comfortable, as various brothers and priests stopped by at different times throughout the afternoon to say hello. At this point, everyone was still Father this and Brother that. Though I eventually grew comfortable calling them by their first names only, on this day and for several months afterward, I still called them by their title, the names familiar to me while I was a student at one of the high schools they ran.
Also joining the community that day were three guys my age who had all just graduated from Chaminade. I didn't remember them from my freshman year there, but I had met all three on different occasions in the months before we entered the religious life. Three of us even attended a house party together just weeks earlier, a bon voyage of sorts thrown at one their houses.
All four of us were given bedrooms not very far apart, with one guy right across the hall from me and the other two just down the hall. It was extremely helpful for me to have others my age to talk to that first day and on so many days over the next four years of our lives together. I'll have much more to share on our dynamics as friends and fellow "young brothers" in future blog entries.
This was a religious order though, and the order of this order, the schedule specifically, was a critical component of absolutely everything else that followed.
It was an extremely difficult challenge in some ways for an 18-year-old to get used to, but much more often than not, the schedule actually held us all together more than I ever would have dreamed it could. As I soon learned, the schedule was the road we all walked on together, and we needed it to make us feel safe and secure at all times.
Some things never, ever changed, and that was a gift, while other small changes became that much more exciting when they popped up.
Knowing where I had to be every second of the day made my life much easier to navigate, and receiving the new schedule each week? It was like receiving another wonderful new invitation to more community with my brothers.
Coming Next Week: A Life of Time
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