Monastic Laundry

It was late August 1993 when the inevitable finally occurred. I'd only been living in the monastery for about six weeks, but this was a small eternity, so leaving home with just my fellow young brothers was quite an unusual experience. Our destination? Manhattan College in Riverdale, New York, the place we'd be attending school for the next four years. Joe, two years older than the four of us who had just joined the order, helped us out so much our first year, as he'd already gone through everything we were still experiencing: all the nerves, all the newness, and everything else that came with joining a conservative Roman Catholic monastery as a teenage boy. Since Joe was beginning his junior year of college and we were each beginning our freshman year, he was a true "big brother" to us all. He drove us up to the college, showed us where we needed to park each day, and then introduced us around campus whenever he could too. Now you've gotta remember,

I first walked the hallowed halls of Chaminade High School on a tour while I was still in the eighth grade. I wasn't sure where I wanted to go to high school at that point, only that Catholic school seemed a certainty. I remember the day I received my acceptance letter to Chaminade though, as the prestigious high school was at the very top of my list, not least of all because my closest friends from grade school were already committed to going there. As I discussed in a previous blog , my time as a student at Chaminade was sadly short-lived, as I failed out at the end of my very first year there (failing is anything below 75, so a 73, a 74, and a Fail in my Pass/Fail music course sealed my fate). Though they allowed me to take two summer school courses at the school that summer, I eventually had to say goodbye to the place forever –or so I thought. Just three years later, now a graduate of Kellenberg High School in Uniondale (run by the same religious order), I was back again

This week's blog is made up of several letters my family and friends sent me during my first summer in the monastery. The dates are when they actually wrote the letter or card, not when I received them. I'm also including, for the FIRST TIME since I started this project, something I wrote on the day I joined the Marianist community at Chaminade High School. Please don't read too much into the ellipses below. I've only edited out unnecessary chit-chat, and focused instead on conversations pertaining to my new vocation.   Excerpts from a going-away card my friend Brendan gave me: June 20, 1993 As I write this, the old baseball analogy comes to mind. There are two outs, it's the top of the 9th, and you're at bat. Sean, hit a home run. Do well in school, don't take shit from your fellow Brothers, and most of all, always be happy. I don't care how many degrees you have or how much money you make in life, the only thing that should count i

"Superiors and the Novice Master must always show towards the novices evangelical simplicity, kindness coupled with gentleness, and respect for their personality, in order to build up a climate of confidence, docility, and openness in which the Novice Master will be able to orientate their generosity toward a complete gift of themselves to the lord in faith, and gradually lead them by word and example to learn in the mystery of Christ Crucified the exigencies of authentic religious obedience." [from the Second Vatican Council, Instruction on the Renewal of Religious Life, 32. (2)] The above was part of many materials given to me for my religious formation, but was not, I'm sad to say, a healthy reflection of my actual experience with my Novice Master. Rather than encourage my confidence and show me kindness, gentleness, and respect, he instead treated me too often like an unwelcome stepson forced upon him against his wishes. When he was exceptionally kind and friendly