Seminary is a special place, and I was reminded of this soon after my return from Christmas break. We began this semester, as we do all of them, with a brief silent retreat. This time helps us get back into the rhythm of seminary life, which is slower than that of the outside world. We have work to do, we take classes, and we have obligations. However, we are more insulated from the noise of the world than the average man.
This semester’s retreat reminded me of the necessity of making time for Jesus. Even in this special place, insulated from some of the noise of the world, it is still easy to become overly engrossed in my studies or other duties. Studies and work duties are appealing to prioritize because success in these areas is easily quantifiable. There is a box to be checked—once finished, it is done.
Relationships cannot work this way. They do not work this way. Because of this, my relationship with the Lord will always be unquantifiable, at least in some respect. I can keep track of time I spend with the Lord, the number of devotions I take part in, or try to guess which of St. Teresa’s mansions the Lord has invited me into. However, there is no data point measuring the fullness of my relationship with the Lord. There is no box to check, after which I would have finished fostering my relationship with him that day. In addition, others will probably not see spiritual progress, and sometimes focusing on prayer can force a decision between excelling in studies to the extent I would want and spending the time with Jesus I want. While having papers to write and lots of philosophy to read, a sense of duty to complete these tasks can spur the question of how much time should I spend on each thing. Sometimes I can finish everything, but there are also days I cannot. Finding the balance is key. Understanding this is simple, but putting this into practice can be a struggle.
I know that days with Jesus as my guide and goal are always uplifting and life-giving. Peace often accompanies them. Difficulties are less disquieting. Now, recalling again the retreat, I see the Lord wished to remind me of the importance of prayer and the value of silence. This reminder has brought up a desire in me to recommit myself to growing in holiness and relationship with the Lord this semester. The Lord has shown me that my time in prayer must be the foundation of my day and all else should flow from that time—a time of pouring out my heart, a time of listening, and a time of silence.
As I enter my last semester of minor seminary, I am reminded that, despite having several years left, I won’t be in the seminary environment forever. This adds to the importance of using seminary well to establish a firm foundation in my faith and relationship with the Lord. With this foundation, the noise of the world and its busyness cannot creep into my soul. Then, when I am in the world as a priest, God willing, I may know with ever more conviction and clarity that the Lord is my firm foundation, my rock, and my refuge. I can then bring the interior peace and silence formed in seminary into the world to help my own growth in holiness and that of the people of God.
Then, on the most hurried and cacophonous of days, nothing can harm the quiet inside, or at least, I will know who can restore it should it be lost.