Seminary library

Sun streams into the library
Originally uploaded by heidi_haverkamp.

Here's a bonus photo of a corner of the library. It gets cold in there, but it's a nice sunny place to study in the mornings.

Moses smiles

From my carrel in the library, I can see this medallion in the window - of Moses with the Ten Commandments. Here he almost has a little smile - why? We heard the Ten Commandments passage from Leviticus today at Eucharist, and it was kind of refreshing. They're so clear.

Lake Michigan says its own vespers

(Had to stop on my drive home from the airport and take this.)

Ordinations and graveyards

Singing the litany went well, I think... and Art has a beautiful church. It's in the middle of nowhere - or in the middle of a well-to-do countryside, full of horse farms and fox-hunting, apparently. Here's a rather poor, backlit photo of the church, with its graveyard. Something about walking out of worship into a graveyard... the congregation is both above and below ground - a visible communion of saints. And noticeably, a congregation that we will all join one day. Macabre, but true.

"We do not live to ourselves, and we do not die to ourselves." (Romans 14:7)

Art was ordained in a service all to himself, here at St. James, a colonial-era church with little doors on the pews - which an usher came to open for you for communion, and no bathrooms (they're across the parking lot, in the modern building). There are views all around of the rolling countryside and lots of sky - Cynthia and I walked out in the recessional, past the acolytes, out of the warm, lit church and into the dim, cool night! And all the branches of the bare trees were black against the cloudy sky. Magical and full of God.

Then an earnest young acolyte walked over to the bishop and asked for a blessing. Very sweet.

Eventually, we made our way over to the parish hall for little sandwiches, sweets, coffee, and powdered lemonade. Very Southern, somehow.

Me, Art, and his wife, Erica.

Now, back to classes at my Episcopal commune. It was very good to get out, but now back to reading, writing, chapel, and this life here. Many blessings to Art, as he enters a new phase of his work.

Habits

Here's me in my seminary habit - aka cassock and surplice - sitting in front of our chapel altar. Seminarians used to wear their black cassocks all the time - they still do, I think, at Nashotah House in Wisconsin, one of the more conservative Episcopal seminaries. I kind of like that idea, not to show off I hope, but because it would simplify my life.

I "vested" in my cassock and surplice and led Evensong last night, a very Anglican sort of thing. Singing in front of people has suddenly become something I do, although I'm not sure how well I do it. I'm singing the ordination litany at my friend, Art's ordination on Saturday, and then I'm leading the psalm at midday Eucharist on Monday. I've been looking for a piano to sing with this afternoon around the seminary, but the chapel and the common room are both being used as classrooms - and singing in the refectory seems awkward somehow.

I'm going to a movie tonight, but I haven't left the block - or the seminary campus - for three days now. And I wonder why I'm having trouble thinking about looking at parish jobs in other cities!

A view from my window

Heidi returns to judge Seabury v. Swift Hall

I think I'm afraid that if I post, people will actually read what I write.
Of course, right now, that's just Heather Antti. (Hi Heather!)

I've spent all fall getting used to this place.

And being at seminary is pretty much all-consuming. Not like divinity school, which feels more like a job or a hobby; all they expect of you is (1) reading and (2) writing. At seminary, you're part of things. For instance, I live across the street from the place, for goodness sake. I can peer in the library windows and listen to people's conversations in the parking lot. But more than that, I feel more essential to the workings of this school than I ever did at the divinity school: what I do, think, and initiate matters to the community. I can see the ripples.

Is it more like the "kingdom of God"? For all my skepticism about the academics here, there is something more life-and-death about the formation people do here. It hurts, it's personal, it's not just about reading and writing. For all the importance of reading primary sources, taking ideas seriously, and not getting mired in emotional gobblety-gook, I'm afraid there's more serious spiritual wrestling here at Seabury than at U of C. More Jesus, even. To the point that I'm not sure I could've stood three whole years here. How do people do it?

And yet, U of C has its own asceticism. I'm sure the balance in me between the two places of my formation will tilt back and forth all year.