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At home, I scanned the reading material at hand — the National Reviewthe Moral Majority newsletter, and the Hillsdale College newsletter — and watched Firing Line with my father. I attended a Reagan Gay catholic dating rally on the picturesque green of my New England hometown. In our home, Reagan, Buckleyand Falwell enjoyed a kind of trinitarian status. Wanting to attend a Catholic college or university, as had dting of my four older siblings, I set my sights on the University of Notre Dame, applying there and only there. At Notre Dame I majored in Gay catholic dating and held an office in the campus pro-life group.
As a datnig there I had my world expanded datinng, albeit still within the Catholic bubble. On or near or passing through campus was a dizzying array of personalities and schools of thought and service groups datig periodicals. One Cathilic night I would be out to a fondue dinner with a friend and her father and a conference-attending Joseph Fessio, SJ who fixed his traditionalist gaze on me and said, "So, just how bad is the Theology department these days? The next morning might find me crashing a professional conference on medical ethics — sitting in the back row, taking it all in — before heading off to hear a speaker on liberation theology over at the Centre for Social Concerns.
During my time at Notre Dame a professor I asked to be my confessor steadily tried to bring me along from a stunted spirituality centred on self-discipline I was very, very good at that to a more expansive and far more challenging spirituality centred on the daunting gospel command to love — really love — God and neighbour. I left campus with my diploma and a handful of awards, one of them for being the top theology student. I hated leaving, and told everyone I felt like I had just started getting to the good stuff. After a couple of weeks I drove my fondue friend to an order of female hermits in New York whom she was considering joining, and headed to the L'Arche community in Toronto, Canada, to live and work among the developmentally disabled.
Daily Mass was again part of the mix, this time with Henri Nouwen as celebrant. When Henri was gone a few of us tried our hand at lay preaching. I'd like to think I did a passable job. After two years at L'Arche, not able to shake that "but I was just getting to the good stuff" feeling, I requested a deferral of admission to law school in order to continue theology studies. Fellowship in hand, I relocated to Boston and found my intellectual home in the work of Karl Rahner. Two years of studying theology and nothing but theology — and getting paid for it! During my years in Boston I dated a couple of guys, one of them a former seminarian and fellow theology student.
I sat and listened, and knew for the first time with a semblance of peace what I had come to know in recent years in more conflicted fashion: I met my future partner some years later at a party thrown by a priest.