TO THE EDITOR: “The history of the church may depend
on the course our seminaries take.” With this flag waving subtitle, a recent
article in AMERICA, “Tomorrow’s Seminaries” (1/18), gave voice to the growing
cry for improvement and modernization of seminary training. Critics both within
and without the “clerical world” are especially unhappy with the physical and
intellectual isolation imposed on the seminarian, which, it is claimed, dwarfs
his psychological development and powers of initiative, robs him of significant
contact with the intellectual currents of his times, and hinders practical
acquaintance with the world and with the layman who dwells in this world.
I am now completing my sixth year in the long training of a Jesuit. (The
intellectual and spiritual formation of religious-priests does not differ essentially
from that of the diocesan clergy: both draw their
vocations from the same sources and train their men to work within the same
social milieu; both are subject to the prescriptions of the Holy See
regarding seminaries.) My reflections on seminary training are necessarily
conditioned by my experience during this time, especially the past two years
of philosophy studies here at Loyola Seminary (Shrub Oak, N. Y.). I believe
that I and those around me—superiors, faculty and students—are aware of the
need for constructive change. What follows is a report on the accomplishments
already made and one man’s opinion of where further corrective action is
necessary.
Liturgical formation in my own training had been under way long before
the Constitution on the Liturgy was promulgated, in fact since my entrance into
religious life. I have read at the urging of spiritual fathers numerous books
and articles on the Mass, the sacraments, and other aspects of the public
worship of the Church. Periodic conferences, recent talks and special lectures
(such as a recent one delivered by Fr. C. J. McNaspy on “Liturgy as a Bond of
Union”) have afforded deeper appreciation of the liturgy and up-to-date
information on the progress of the liturgical movement. The introduction of
theology courses on the New Testament, prior to the four years allowed to
theological studies, recognizes the emphasis in the Constitution that “Sacred
Scripture is of the greatest importance in the celebration of the liturgy.”
Nor has active participation in the liturgy lagged far behind theoretical
instruction. Each morning our community comes together for daily Mass, and a
lector reads the Epistle and Gospel in English. At least twice a week this Mass
is said facing the people, and occasionally the congregation sings English or
Latin hymns. On Sundays there is High Mass at which the community chants one of
the Gregorian Masses and often the Proper as well; after the Gospel the
celebrant delivers a brief homily on some text in the Mass. We chant Compline
once a week, and during this year a Scripture Service was conducted each Sunday
afternoon. Because of the current reform of the liturgy and the need to make
constant changes, a liturgical commission, consisting of four priests and six
seminarians, meets periodically to discuss and formulate recommendations for
superiors on the liturgical life of the community.
Our training has also taken big strides in the area of communications.
Last summer, Fr. Jacques Cousineau, a Jesuit film expert, presided over the
First Annual Film Festival here at Loyola. On four consecutive evenings
films selected for their artistic and
technical excellence were viewed by the community: The Miracle Worker,
Ikiru,
Through a Glass Darkly and Diary of a Country Priest. On the
following morning the community gathered, first in small groups, then in
general session, to discuss the previous night’s film and to pool our
individual observations and reflections on the use of audio-visual techniques
in theme development. After this it was possible to re-view the film in order
to appreciate its art more deeply in light of the discussions.
Late each afternoon Fr. Cousineau lectured on methods of conducting film
seminars to assist our own future work in educating the critical abilities of
others. Edward Fischer, film critic for Ave Maria magazine, succeeded
Fr. Cousineau as chairman later in the series. Limited to only three lectures
to a showing and discussion of Citizen Kane, Mr. Fischer did much to
introduce an “unlettered” audience into the world of film grammar and
esthetics.
During the school year we have several excellent films, including Bicycle
Thief, Ballard of a Soldier, and 400 Blows. Our method of study this
month follows the same general procedure of viewing, discussion and re-viewing.
Writing, of course, is an essential ingredient of our education; but it
is limited to class work and assignments. A little over a year ago, several
seminarians organized a writers’ agency to
facilitate the typing and placement of manuscripts composed by their
fellow students. To date, the agency reports that articles have been placed in
such journals as Thought, The Journal of Higher Education, Trace, Modern
Fiction Studies and Mundo Social. Seven poems have been published,
and efforts are even under way to interest a publishing house in a collection
of short stories.
The arts are not neglected in this house of philosophy. This year we put
on full length productions of King Lear, Waiting for Godot and an
original musical comedy, The Preternatural has a Grip on Me. During
March some seminarians exhibited some of their paintings in the Fordham Art
Center. Two others are directing and editing their own film-documentaries.
Daniel Callahan has charged in Commonweal (“Freedom of Priests,”
10/18) that “the seminarian is given a very scant education in those
disciplines that loom so large in the modern world. Unless he makes special
private efforts, it is more that likely that the graduate of a seminary will
have only the barest acquaintance with literature, psychology, sociology,
economics, history and political science. He will almost surely not have
wrestled with the thought of Hegel, Marx, Freud, Darwin or Kant; or, for that
matter, any of those men who have left their mark on this ‘secular’ age of
ours.”
This description does not fit the
“graduate” of Loyola Seminary, a man exposed for three years to a highly
qualified faculty, excellent library facilities and good courses. At the
conclusion of our first two years, which correspond roughly to junior and
senior years at any Jesuit liberal arts
college, the graduate receives his A.B. from Fordham University, of which
Loyola is the college of philosophy and letters. The major field of
concentration for everyone is philosophy; but philosophy as it is taught to us,
receives a strong historical emphasis and is not restricted to the
scholasticism of the manuals. We do “wrestle” with Darwin’s evolutionary theory
and Kant’s Critiques; Hegel, Marx and Freud speak up frequently to
challenge and illumine our own thought, as do Dewey, Heidegger, Whitehead and
others.
Physics, experimental psychology, communications and one’s own specialty
(anything from literature to political science) round out the curriculum. In third
year, stress remains on philosophy to fulfill requirements for the Licentiate
in Philosophy, a Church degree. Courses in Aristotle and medieval philosophy
deepen appreciation for the Christian tradition, while those in ethics and
contemporary philosophy together with sociology and anthropology focus in from
different angles on the “modern mind.”
After first year, graduate studies occupy our studies and continue into
the regular school year. One afternoon a week, each seminarian travels to New
York City for class at Fordham in English, history, philosophy, physics,
mathematics, political science, modern language, psychology or education; at
Columbia, New York University or Saint John’s in music, fine arts, English,
economics or sociology. Ideally, when the three years here are finished, each
man has completed his course requirements for a Master’s and has only his
comprehensive exam to pass for the awarding of the degree.
There are, besides, various activities at Loyola to help broaden the
scope of our experience. Mention has already been made of graduate courses in
New York City each week and the ensuing opportunity to consult with non-Jesuit
professors, meet with fellow students, and make use of library and other campus
facilities. There is also considerable freedom to attend lectures, seminars,
workshops and similar academic meetings. Museums, art galleries and other
cultural centers are not unknown to us, nor are public libraries or foreign
consulates.
Teaching religion to released-time public school students is our major
apostolic work. One hundred seminarians give up the major portion of their
weekly holiday to provide more than two thousand Westchester boys and girls
with what in many cases is their only formal religious training. Recently one priest
and three seminarians organized a program for visiting and gaining practical
experience at various centers set up in New York City slum areas to handle
problems of juvenile delinquency. drug addiction and the like.
To complete the picture, however, let me list what in my opinion are
certain failings in my own training and consider possible avenues for
improvement. I shall take up only those
problem areas that I gather—from conversations with non-Jesuit seminarians and
scattered magazine articles (for example, in AMERICA, Commonweal and Life)—we
share with other seminaries.
Perhaps the system of studies prescribed by Canon Law could learn
something from modern educational experience in graduate schools and collegiate
honors programs. Certainly the present set up requires too many class hours,
too much passive attendance at tedious lectures. (Every student knows that not
every teacher is brilliant every day.) Some of this time could be more
profitably spent in guided private reading and weekly seminar sessions.
No subject, with the exception of theology, occupies a seminarian more
than philosophy. The value of this discipline is indisputable, but not so clear
is its right to absolute priority over other subjects. The modern world and
layman, it would seem, require that philosophy studies in the education of a
priest yield a certain amount of time and emphasis to more intense work in
history, sociology, psychology, science, the arts. No doubt, too, seminary
philosophy, while moving in the right direction, has not yet freed itself from
the shackles of thesis-textbook methodology.
No one can deny that there are advantages in physical isolation both as
regards the location of the seminary and the tenor of the seminarian’s life.
The priest-to-be must learn not to rely on the distractions and diversions of
the “outside world” for his personal fulfillment and happiness. He must face
God and himself, acquire discipline and self-control, and root his vocation
firmly in spiritual motivation.
At times, however, one gets the impression that the goal of seminary is
good seminarians and not good priests. Many knowledgeable and zealous laymen
complain, apparently with some justification, that the clergy, due to its
training, too often lacks a realistic appreciation of their world and of their
difficulties. Priests themselves question whether the protective character of
seminaries blocks the normal psychological development of the candidate for the
priesthood—a goal requiring the most mature of decisions and a profession demanding
great balance and self-possession. Predictably, seminarians also feel that more
freedom and opportunity for experience should be present in their lives. Some
of this is definitely the result of imprudent activity and youthful energy
bucking restiveness of any sort. Yet the seminarians of my acquaintance find no
value in even casual contact with people and situations outside the cloister.
It is my conviction that the seminarian would benefit from more varied,
more frequent apostolic experience: teaching Christian Doctrine, helping out
with parish organizations, in general dealing with laymen at every level. More
of his classes should be at Catholic or non-Catholic colleges, where he could
reap the advantage of a broad intellectual environment and close contact with
lay students of diverse backgrounds. The seminarian should be able to attend
scholarly conventions and other significant meetings even when they involve
trips of some distance and duration. I am thinking of such events as the annual
meeting of the Catholic Historical Association, a Liturgical Conference or the
Freedom March of last August. Undoubtedly, the seminaries of the future should
be built in or close to cities, even on the campuses of universities.
Ultimately, what is behind the intellectual inbreeding and physical
isolation of seminaries is too narrow a philosophy of education, too negative a
concept of asceticism. The common outlook, implicitly, is this: the intellect and will must be developed;
the rest of the man, disciplined and restrained in the face of an evil world.
According to this view, the acquisition
of knowledge is necessarily a very laborious, rarely enjoyable task. Learning
is possible in lecture halls or in solitude over one's textbook, and nowhere
else. At best, this approach condones visiting an art museum, seeing a current
play or reading a novel as helpful
“breaks,” but not genuine education. Similarly, the image of holiness
for the seminarian is often presented in terms of external piety and strict observance of rules. The necessity of
a gracious charity and energetic development of talents receives secondary
importance.
The net result of all this is to identify the ideal seminarian with the man who memorizes and
crams in his studies, who obeys all regulations to the letter and never causes
trouble. No one appears to be too concerned whether this same seminarian will
also turn out a good priest, prepared to carry out his assignments competently
and have a real impact on the people of his charge.
These criticisms are possibly harsh and much too black, but they serve to
make a point. It would be a serious mistake to interpret them as indicative of
a spirit of rebellion out to undermine the accomplishments of the past or
the place of authority in the Church. I
think that a certain amount of unrest
and discontent among seminarians is healthy and should always be present. One faculty member of our community has
remarked that if a man is perfectly happy in a seminary that is a sure sign
that he has no vocation.
Many of the seminarian's/problems,
of course, are simply part of the human condition, part of living life in a
“vale of tears.” He is not so different from his friends and contemporaries
in their family and business lives. Other difficulties come into prominence
precisely because he, a youth of the mid-20th century, has freely chosen to
take on the burdens of a challenging way of life (including his training),
rooted in a long Christian tradition. Solutions, if there are any, must be
found in prayer and faith, and on a more mundane level, in the wise cliché
“grin and bear it.” For often the situation cannot and should not change; it is
the man who must adjust.
But one note on this. The seminarian looks
to his superiors and elders for vision and encouragement, for a living example
of the meaning of his vocation and a visible witness to the value of the
structures and patterns that govern his life. Impersonal authority, content to
do nothing save issue an occasional edict from an ivory tower, can reduce the
vigor of a seminarian’s commitment or even nourish resentment and distaste for
his vocation.
The seminarian of today desires fresh articulation and insight into the
role of the priest of 1964 America. He longs for serious and systematic reappraisal
of seminary training and for practical guidelines in living a life caught
between polarities of obedience and freedom, authority and initiative,
isolation and involvement. No seminarian can possibly have the breadth of
vision necessary to achieve such theoretical syntheses, nor can he work out on
his own, without great difficulty, a balanced modus agendi. He
can only express the conflicts in his life and look to his predecessors for
assistance. His needs are a real challenge to the brains and souls of theologians,
spiritual writers and all experienced churchmen.
James N. Loughran,
S. J.
Loyola Seminary
Shrub Oak, N. Y.
America / May 23, 1964