By Neha Prakash
Students at the Pontifical North American College in Rome pray during Sunday Mass. | Photo by Anam Siddiq.
I’m not a Catholic. I’m not a Christian. I’m not a man. But after our class tour of Pontifical North American College, a seminarian school in Rome, I’ve decided to join the priesthood. In any capacity they may take me — be it a gardener for their orange trees or a ball fetcher for their tennis court.
The one problem I’ve found in my years traveling is you begin to disregard the beauty in the world and history around you. Desensitized to the art, architecture and sculpted nature, you take for granted the beauty in the ornate and complex structures popping up in each corner.
North American College woke me up from that slumber.
When we passed through the doors into the courtyard, it was impossible not to smell the roses. This place seemed to smell holy or maybe I’ve just become accustomed to the New York City smells of garbage bags lining the streets and the halal cart food seeping into every sniff.
A cat strolled past our class, it lazed every now and then under the arching trees lining the pathway — even the animal seemed to know it had been given the keys to heaven in this peaceful and humbling place. The tolling bells summoned us to Mass; they seemed weirdly tranquil, as though they were finally in a place where they were free to chime, as they wanted, accepted and even welcomed at any hour.
We’ve also become numb to the sight of places of worship and people worshiping. There are only so many times you can listen to the recitation of the “Our Father” and still feel moved by sentiment and belief as opposed to becoming entranced by the pattern and flow of the words.
Mass with the seminarians at North American College was again something of an awakening.
It was simply beautiful to watch these men, so eager to learn and devote their lives to God, pray. The sacrament of Mass, no matter the fact that most of them attended Mass daily, seemed to invoke something invigorating and inspired in each of them. To watch each of them kneel and recite the “Our Father” in unison made me really hear the words I had heard for years before:
Thy kingdom come
thy will be done
on Earth as it is in Heaven
A few students pose on the rooftop of North American College overlooking St. Peter's Basilica. Taking in the sweeping view of Rome was a religious experience in itself. | Photo by Anam Siddiq.
It would make any nonbeliever have a glimmer of belief in God’s message, or at least in the devotion and spirituality each of these men sought in being one of God’s messengers.
That type of devotion cannot be taught, but only experienced.
On a side note: the seminary students eat their meals together in a gigantic cafeteria reminiscent of a summer camp mess hall that would shame our to-go meals from Brad’s. If that’s not enough to make you start your admission application, their luxurious library actually smells like books and does not have the incessant sounds of keyboards clacking or frustrated students cursing at editing equipment like the Stabile Student Center does— imagine the bliss.
Later, our tour guide John Paul Mitchell, a seminarian student, and coincidentally an alumnus of Columbia Journalism School, told us about the education each student at the school receives. They get “trained” in four areas, he said: academic, pastoral, spiritual and balance.
The fourth caught a few confused gazes, so Mitchell explained further.
It seems seminary school finds it important for their students to find balance in life and seek growth in their humanity.
I suddenly discovered what J-school was missing from their rigorous master’s schedule: a class in how to be a person.
So often as journalists, we only think of getting clips and quotes, shots and soundbytes. But just imagine for one moment, thinking about how we could be growing as people. And for one moment, standing on the rooftop of North American College overlooking St. Peter’s Basilica, I decided seminary school was the best education a person could receive, because it teaches you to appreciate life, humanity and yourself.
North American College wasn’t such a beautiful place because of its aesthetic nature, but because of the human nature fostered there.
So even if the seminarian school won’t accept me (Mitchell may have capped their quota for stressed out J-schoolers seeking peace), I’m adding a course in balance to the rest of my J-school days.
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