Back in September, our diocesan newspaper, Washington Window , began running a bi-monthly column aimed a young adults. It is written by Bowie Snodgrass, who, among other appellations that can be found at the bottom of this entry, is the co-convener of the 20s/30s group at The Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York City. I had heard Bowie speak at the Episcopal Communicators conference last year in Salt Lake City, and knew right away that I wanted to get her voice in the paper. I am going to put one of her columns up every week for the next five or six weeks, and then once a month. So have a read. Bowie has promised to check in every now and then to respond to yout comments.
Seminary in the City
By Bowie Snodgrass
Washington Window
Vol. 73, No. 9, September 2005
My mid-20s were spent as a seminarian in a city. By day, I read the Bible in Greek and wrote papers about its relationship to modern pop culture. But by night, I still liked to get dressed up and go out on the town, entering the matrix of having a social life – as a single young lady – in NYC.
A staple of most initial encounters is the question: “So, what do you do?” While doctors often dodge this question anticipating requests for medical advice, and artists can be resentful of having to explain that something is just their “day job,” telling someone you’re a seminarian places you smack dab in the center of a strange modern struggle between sensuality, spirituality and society.
In my first year of seminary, I’d tell people I was a grad student. “Oh, what do you study?” “Religion.” “Cool… Where?” “Up by Columbia.” (Sufficiently vague? Evading the truth?) But by my third year, I’d take a deep breath, look them in the eye, say – “I’m doing a Master of Divinity at Union Theological Seminary” – and see where the conversation went.
Women sometimes asked if I was going to be a nun, rabbi or “priestess.” I’d wonder how my Jean Paul Gautier or Betsy Johnson dress suited these female religious roles. Sometimes guys – in an “arguing-as-an-attempt-at-flirting” approach – wanted to dispute the existence of God, citing philosophers like Feuerbach or Nietzsche. “Sorry,” I’d say. “I don’t believe God is contingent on human consciousness. Before all this was and after all this will be: God.” Then flick my hair over my shoulder and say, “But, I’d love another drink.”
Of course some people looked peaked at the very mention of anything concerning G-O-D. I usually just let them excuse themselves. Others wanted to tell you all about their own (or their granny’s) relationship with religion. Sometimes these talks were truly great. Other times, less so.
Various people wanted to quiz me on this or that “fact” of the Bible and, once in a while, they would know another Episcopal seminarian and the name game would begin. One guy bought me a drink and turned out to know one of my seminary classmates. I think he gave me his number and I never called.
I ran into occasional accusations of hypocrisy (As if partying and being Christian are mutually exclusive… “Hey, just doing what Jesus did.”); inane drunkisms (“Can you make this beer holy?”); the sex questions (“Can you have it?” “Sorry, not tonight and not with you”); and fears of proselytism (“Are you here handing out pamphlets?”).
Maybe these are just the extreme examples of reactions anyone gets when faith, prayer or God come up in conversation on a Saturday night. These are topics considered better saved for Sunday morning. Many of us try to avoid this conflict by keeping our faith out of our public and professional lives, even if it’s an important part of our personal world.
With religion so much in the American public eye, it can be hard to stand up as a Christian for fear of being tarred with the same brush as the puritans or fundamentalists. And sometimes that simple question – So what do you do? – is an intensely personal one that can leave you feeling alien and naked when all you want to do is chill out and enjoy the company of friends, old and new.
Being in party company – celebrating life and spending hours just talking with people -can be a good thing. Hanging out is a good time to not be “what you do.” The tensions I felt during seminary about being a person of faith in the world were fundamental steps in my journey of figuring out how I relate to other people and how to live in the world with God “always on my mind.”
Why is it weird that the “professionally moral” people let their hair down too? And must “spirituality and sensuality” evoke visions of New Age crystals or Christian controversy? Can’t a girl have both her Saturday night and her Sunday morning?
It’s our job – living in a multicultural, post-modern megalopolis – to keep life in perspective. How else can a 20-something seminarian in the city be social and sexy too?
“So I commend the enjoyment of life, because nothing is better for a woman under the sun than to eat and drink and be glad. Then joy will accompany her in her work all the days of the life God has given her under the sun.” Ecclesiastes 8:15
Bowie Snodgrass is the Web Content Editor of www.episcopalchurch.org and www.comeandgrow.org She lives in New York City and is the co-convener of the 20/30 Connection at the Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine. She can be reached at bowiesnodgrass@gmail.com