At St. Gregory the Great Seminary in Seward, NE, a place of study and preparation for young Catholic men interested in joining the priesthood, the bells in the tower ring signaling the beginning of mass in the Immaculate Conception Chapel. The upper-class seminarians wearing black cassocks that button from their chins clear to the floor, process down the center aisle of the nave, with two rows of 13 dark wooden pews on each side. They are followed directly by the college one, first-year seminarians dressed in black suits. Walking single file in two rows, the seminarians split in opposite directions in front of the alter and file into rows of the same dark colored pews set in the traditional style of inchoir seating that characterizes most monastic communities. The seminarians sit in eight pews, four on each side of the aisle. Each pew faces inward so that when the seminarians look straight ahead they see the other seminarians located directly opposite them on the other side of the aisle.
Three priests follow behind these seminarians wearing the green vestments of the ordinary times between the Advent, Lenten, and Easter seasons. They wear a white alb, an undergarment symbolizing purity; a green Stoll, a thin strip of cloth laid over their shoulders signifying their priestly vocation; and the green chasuble with a gold cross, the aesthetically pleasing outer layer of the vestments. They walk all the way to the front of the Chapel, the sanctuary, and take their seats to the right of the alter. The priests and seminarians sing the Latin hymn, “Quae caeli pandis ostium…” However, there is no accompaniment; the only sound comes from the men’s voices. It is a capella, a low but harmonized sound. The vibrations of their voices can be felt on the skin like a flies wings buzzing in the ear while they changed between notes in synchrony. Their incomprehensible Latin words and masculine song create a reverent and mysterious atmosphere. The words are completely foreign, and the men’s voices sound surreal and from a time period much too long ago. The order of their movements is so exact as they all turn together at the exact same times with mysterious, military like discipline. They seem to miraculously know each other’s thoughts and actions, and are therefore able to move, turn, sit, stand, and respond in unison. The seminarians sing back and forth to each other across the aisle in two-voiced harmony inchoir, one line at a time.
The Church, its architecture, and its art are incredibly beautiful. Every window in the chapel is stained glass and contains the image of a different saint, symbol, or religious object. St. Thomas Aquinas, patron saint of philosophers; St. John Vianney, patron saint of priests; St. Charles Borromeo, patron saint of seminarians are saints with special meaning at the seminary. They are painted mysteriously into the stained glass windows. Their faces seem to be looking towards the alter and the front of the Church, directing attention to where it is meant to be. It has been built, painted, and meticulously created to be mysteriously beautiful in every aspect, not to grab attention, but to make people wonder why they are here and to direct their attention back towards the front and upwards towards Christ, the answer to mystery.
Mystery is a common element in my everyday life as it is for most humans. It can be found in my shoelace that comes untied, in my homework assignments that have no apparent reason, and in my younger brothers sense of humor. Despite the apparent simplicity of these unknowns, they are essential to the human well-being and the continual development of society. They turn human attention toward a particular direction, expanding the ever-growing supply of human answers, knowledge, and inventions. Science, Philosophy, Religion, and many other areas of studied are based on the ambiguities and unfamiliarities in life. They deal with the unanswered questions and random whims or wonderings of human society. Mystery inspires action; it inspires some people to spend their lives studying one particular object or idea in search of an answer or explanation for the thing that mystified them.
There are some mysteries that neither I nor anyone one else will ever find the answer. Science can explain how the human genome, the colors of a rainbow, and the simplicity of a raindrop work, but they cannot know what sparked the creation of these things. Could they have all occurred by chance? Why are humans the only creatures with an intellect and will capable of making moral choices and having abstract thoughts? It is mysteries like these that have caused humans to turn to religion, to new mysteries that created answers for those of the past.
The beauty and mystery of many churches including the Immaculate Conception Chapel are efficacious symbols of the mysteries of God, faith, and religion. God, the gift of His incarnate son who was both God and man, His resurrection, and the Holy Trinity are all unexplainable unknowns to me. I have no human experience to compare these matters to, and consequently, I have no explanations about how they could be possible or true. They are spiritual mysteries that no scientific test or experiment could ever explain; however, they still cause me to ask questions and inspire me to take action. They motivate me to go to mass, to read the Bible, to pray, and to build my own beliefs about God and religion. They cause me to search for a reason to believe or have faith in God, to be a practicing Catholic, and to continue searching for answers. They like any other human mystery, inspire me to shift my attention and take initiative.
If there was no spiritual or physical mystery in my life, if I never asked questions, or if I never wondered about anything, my life would be meaningless. I would no longer have free will and the ability to choose. I would either know the answers to all the mysteries and be unable to make a wrong decision, or I would have no knowledge or past human experiences to base my decisions off. I would act the same way in each situation. My life would be a stand still without forward progress. My attention would never be turned in a new direction; I would take no action.
In a conversation I had with Fr. Lyle Johnson, a Catholic priest in the Diocese of Lincoln, he told me, “Unfamiliarity with God and spirituality causes humans to approach the Church kneeling in prayer with their eyes closed in reverence, much like humans approach strange, wild animals with care and caution.” Since I have no experience that can explain the mysteries of God, faith, and religion, the only way for me to experience God, to communicate with him, to find answers, and to build beliefs is to create my own mysterious human experiences and environments through activities like mass, prayer, meditation, and study.
In the chapel, the floor of the nave, the central section of the church where the public or lay people sit, is laid with tile. Each tile has the same soft shade of green, much the same color as a field of clover. Each tile has a different size and shape, and it was laid without any apparent pattern. The overall effect is that of a giant, disordered maze. Much like each new human mystery changes the focus of attention for one or many lives, each tile seems to point to a new direction within the maze.
I follow the tiles with my eyes, trying to find the answer to the endless maze. I finally find a path to the front of the nave, and notice that the tile on the stairs leading up to the alter in the sanctuary has a definite pattern. Each tile is a square of the exact same size, and they are lined up one next to the other. The straight path the pattern of these tiles makes leads my eyes to the base of the alter made of granite. Immediately, my attention is turned upward and I see the celebrant, the priest saying the mass, standing behind the alter with his arms raised in the air, his palms facing up. As I look around, I notice that the other seminarians and priests have their arms raised as well, and they all are saying together, “Our Father, Who art in…” I am the only one left out until I raise my arms, open my mouth, and reverently join into the mystery of the Mass at St. Gregory the Great Seminary in search of an answer.
