post-vespers, post-dinner, settling down

The SMU campus is undeniably gorgeous, and today's weather was the perfect complement to the scenery the campus offers. According to Father Paul (who asked that I wait until tomorrow to take his picture), SMU's undegrad population is around 1200 students-- about 400 fewer students than my teen alma mater, Mount Vernon High School in Alexandria, Virginia. About 40% of SMU's students are Catholic.

The entrance road to campus is 6th Avenue, just off College Way. The campus is set about a half-mile back from the main drag, so traffic, while audible, is just a pleasant murmur. A lot like the well-manicured George Mason University in Fairfax, Virginia, SMU is beautifully landscaped and gifted with large, forested areas ("That's where you keep the werewolves, eh?" I joked). It's late June, so I'm not seeing the campus in full beer-and-hormone swing, but the current ambience is conducive to great tranquility. I picked a good time and place to take a break for a few days.

I arrived, sweaty and reeking, at the guest house around 1PM, and was lucky that Father Paul was also on his way over: he saw me as I was approaching the guest house. "What's your name?" he called down to me, obviously knowing the answer. "Kevin," I replied. "Are you Father Paul?"

Fr. Paul showed me which path to take up to the second-floor entrance to the guest house (see photo in one of the previous posts); we shook hands. Father let me in and showed me my room: Number 33, the Saint Hildegarde suite. As you saw in the previous photos, the room is comfortably appointed-- not a monk's cell by any means.

Father very kindly offered to take care of my laundry needs, which made me feel guilty: I'm used to doing my own laundry, and given how little I'm paying for both meals and lodging, it feels as though I'm sneaking an extra service in. (That reminds me: I need to buy more powdered detergent.)

Father said I should take my shower and leave any laundry out by my door. He also invited me to 5PM vespers and said he wanted to introduce me to the young couple also staying at the guest house. I met them at the church: Matt and Lisa. Matt is an SMU alum; he and his girlfriend are in the area and exploring some of Matt's past.

Vespers (my very first vespers, by the way) was another interesting study in ritual space and movement. It began with an introit-- a musical prelude with which most Protestants are familiar. When the "schola" of monks filed in two by two, we congregants stood. The monks approached the bare table at the front of the sanctuary that probably serves as an altar during a normal mass; as each pair of monks reached the table, they bowed and then split, walking to seats on opposite sides of the sanctuary and turning to stand facing forward with the rest of us. This continued until all the monks had filed in. I noticed the monks were in standard Benedictine black robes, and that none was bald or shaven Franciscan-style. One monk in my section was wearing a black skullcap; I don't know why.

Vespers was notable for what it lacked: a homily, an offering period, and communion. What it was, instead, was a series of songs, brief silent periods, and responsive prayers. The singers/readers would take turns with the assembled congregants (not many of us this afternoon) during each stage of vespers. Silent periods were usually spent seated, while singing was mostly (wholly?) done standing.

The brother who did a reading was a lucky devil because he stood at an impressive lectern formed in the shape of a giant black eagle, its wings stretched and spreading upward at roughly 45-degree angles. I was in a good position to see the reader, but I imagine those great wings hid him from the congregants in the peripheral seats.

Seating was in modern, post-Vatican 2 style: the "theater in the round" favored by those church leaders intent on aggiornamento,* on bringing the Church into the modern age in part by making the atmosphere less stand-offish (many Protestant churches still prefer seating in the Teutonic style, with pews in strict ranks and congregants staring into the backs of their fellows' heads. Of course, many of the more venerable Catholic cathedrals also stick with rigid ranks.)

I had dinner not at the monks' refectory but at the regular student cafeteria, which is where the Sunday dinners are apparently taken. Tomorrow morning's 7AM breakfast, however, will be in the refectory. My meal: split pea soup, a salad, soda, and two chocolate chip cookies.

I sat with Matt, Lisa, and Brother Luke, who turned out to be half-Korean. In the cafeteria, I also met a group of Koreans (there's just no escaping us hanguk-saram-deul), some of whom were at SMU as seminarians to learn English before eventually heading back to Korea. I spoke in Korean with some girls in the group (obviously not on their way to becoming priests). When they found out I spoke some Korean, had spent eight years in Korea, and was half-Korean, one girl said "Shingi-ha-nae!" --an expression I'd roughly translate in this context as, "Whoa, that's wild!" The expression can also mean things like "That's weird!" or "That's strange!", as when you realize you're witnessing an improbable turn of events, or a creepy or fascinating coincidence. (Charles? What's a better way to explain this expression?)

We four sat outside and ate our meals at a round table under a large parasol; talk ranged from travel to language learning to SMU-related affairs. A fifth person joined our group; I can't remember his name, but I keep thinking it might've been Nick. He and Matt's girlfriend Lisa both have some interest in counseling; Lisa's gotten her MA in Human Development and Nick is on his way to an MA. Nick is also a musician; he had just come back from a church gig when he joined us.

After dinner, we all went our separate ways; I walked back to the guest house, Brother Luke made his way back to wherever he was going (the monastery?), and Matt, Lisa, and Nick (I do hope someone'll tell me his actual name) went for a walk around the campus to see what had changed since Matt had graduated.

So that brings us up to date in terms of today's events. It's been a pleasant, relaxing day, and I've once again had the chance to meet some good folks.

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*If you see the word "adjourn" in this Italian term, which held some importance during Vatican 2 (1962-65), you wouldn't be far wrong. The "jour" in "adjourn" can be traced most immediately to the French word for "day"; "aggiornamento" contains the Italian equivalent.

To "adjourn" is, etymologically speaking, to "bring out into the daylight" or "bring up to the day." When a meeting is adjourned, you step out of cloistered confinement and into the sun's brightness; you also set the date for the next meeting. "Aggiornamento," which means something more like "updating" in the Vatican 2 context, implies that certain aspects of the Roman Church need to be "brought into the daylight" of modernity. The concept therefore refers to one of the underlying themes of Vatican 2: making the Church more directly relevant to one's personal life.

The Catholic Church gets bashed for its lingering archaisms, but you have to admit that it's actually one of the few great religious institutions to openly recognize a need for (and then to enact) sweeping change on multiple levels. It's not easy to change the course of an institution that large; Vatican 3, whenever it happens, will face exponentially larger challenges.


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