“The word ‘seminary’ comes from the Latin word seminarium or ‘seedbed.’ Here, we nurture the seed of priestly vocation you have in you,” spoke a priest in front of an altar with wood-paneled walls. At its center was a crucifix flanked by Bible verses in brass letters: “Fear not… I am with you always!” and “Come… follow me!”
It was orientation day for about 30 or so of us newcomers at the airy chapel that had beige walls, white vaulted ceiling, and windows overlooking the surrounding fields and rows upon rows of coconut trees. We pretended to listen, but most of us were either daydreaming or inspecting the graffiti on the pews where we sat.
After the quick lesson on Latin etymology, the priest spoke in length about the schedule, rules, and all the other basic things we needed to know about our stay in the seminary.
I entered the seminary on a Sunday sometime in late May or early June 1996 dressed in a pair of jeans and a striped polo shirt with a blue collar. Earlier that morning, my family and I heard Mass at the Borongan Cathedral, after which we returned to my father’s childhood home where we stayed, picked up my stuff, and had my picture taken with my grandmother together with my sisters. I was 13 then.
My entire family then dropped me off and helped me set up my bed. They also helped me unpack my sports bag filled with all of my clothes, including the white clerical shirts and pairs of black pants we’d wear to Mass along with the recommended footwear of black leather shoes, or sneakers and slippers depending on the activity. Finally, I had my cleaning materials: a small pail, kabo or a bathing ladle, a coconut husk for polishing floors called banos, two types of brooms, and a small dull bolo knife for gardening.
My mother meticulously listed all my things on a piece of paper so I would never lose them. Yet I did, losing many of these even before the year ended. Some were borrowed and never returned, others were stolen, and there were those that I misplaced and never saw again.
Only the newcomers were in the seminary at the time along with a few older ones who served as officers. The others would arrive the following day or so.
Karl was the first person ever introduced to me there. I think my mother asked someone to look for him, and after a few minutes, this kid who had a serious look on his face appeared and shook my hand.
“He’s your cousin,” my mother said and drew for me a mental family tree to show how we are related. His family would later become this sort-of foster family of our class, which would eventually grow to include other seminarians in the community. But I’ll save their story for later.
My family left me eventually, but not before my beloved mother left me with her reminders, instructions, and pieces of advice to take my vitamins, brush my teeth, and clean my ears.
That evening, while most of us were being loud and rowdy at the dormitory, someone brought a bottle of cooling talcum powder and had the grand idea of sprinkling some on his crotch. We followed suit and laughed and cried in pain as the cooling sensation stung our balls. I still can’t explain why we did what we did then.
Soon, it was bedtime. I remember sleeping soundly that night. I was just happy to have been able to venture out on my own at last. Some, probably those who experienced being away from their families for the first time, were supposed to have cried themselves to sleep, but none of them would admit it to this day.
Homesickness eventually got into some of us. Some left for good after one or several days in the seminary. Even my best friend during those early days, Bembol, had to leave in July. His mother decided to transfer him to a school in his hometown after bouts of sickness in the seminary.
We were about 30 in our class when the school year eventually began, a bunch of tiny and naive children who were only starting to get to know each other, the intricacies of seminary life, and the entire community we were living with.
This post is part of a weekly series about my life at the Seminario de Jesus Nazareno called “Seminary Days 1996-2000”. Until next time!