Awards

When I was a senior in high school, I attended the Idaho high school yearbook and journalism convention in Boise for the third time. In the morning at this convention they scheduled contests in various categories. Photographers were given a roll of film (to date myself, this was shockingly before digital cameras), a theme, and a couple hours to shoot. Writers were given a prompt, paper, and a couple hours to compose. I took part in a competition to develop a theme for a yearbook along with a layout and ideas for carrying it through the composition.

In the afternoon, the winners of the competitions were announced along with advisor of the year and yearbook of the year. I sat next to my advisor, with whom I was close and shared many inside jokes. He had a history with the organizers of the event, many of whom had spurned him in some way in prior years. We joked quietly about the yearbook "bigwigs" sitting at the front. When the results of my theme category were announced I received nothing -- not an honorable mention or a participant award. Nothing. Whereas before I held back in the jabs directed at the organizers, my restraint evaporated after my category passed without my name being announced.

"What do these people know about yearbook, anyway? I've gotten honorable mention and at least some sort of recognition the last two years at this thing. I am the editor-in-chief of our yearbook! I've got to know more than some of the people that were in my category! Right? Am I right? What do these people know?"

I kept going, the sarcasm dripping deliciously.

"I know, I know what the problem is. They invented a new category that they're going to announce at the very end -- a best in show category. With a cash prize! That's it. They're saving me for that. That must be it."

I continued on like this for the remainder of the presentation, and my advisor and I continued cracking jokes. If we were going to be spurned, we were going to enjoy ourselves, darn it.

Then they announced the advisor of the year. As they listed the accomplishments of this yearbook teacher, I knew it was my advisor they were describing. He had started the yearbook program from scratch just a few years before. He had helped students produce some award-winning annuals. It was him. Sure enough, when they reached the end of their speech, they said his name. He peered at me sheepishly as he went forward to receive his prize. These organizers, what did they know? They knew that my advisor was excellent, even if he didn't care for them. He returned to his seat, humbled. I felt it too, though even with his award, I still felt personally slighted.

Then the announcement came: There would be one final award this year. A new one. With a cash prize. For "Best in Show," comprising the best entry in all the competitions. Wouldn't you know it, those organizers, the ones I couldn't stop criticizing minutes before, well they knocked me from my preachy perch alongside my advisor. I won. I won the most humiliating award of my life. After spending the better part of an hour bagging on the people who had allowed this event to happen, my advisor and I both had to walk to the stage to accept recognition that we didn't deserve based on our behavior. Pride overtook us, but humility reminded us of our imperfection even in our achievement.

I share this story because on Tuesday I received another award, this one coming from my peers and faculty at the seminary who named me the winner of the St. Michael the Archangel Award. This time I was not dismissing the event organizers of our Annunciation Dinner, but I had a similar feeling of honor and unworthiness to be distinguished among such fine people. Though seminarians struggle in real and personal ways as a typical human being, every person who comes here to study, discern, and grow is giving this time to the Lord and the Church. Each is deserving of accolades that are not possible to hand out at awards ceremonies. For every authentic prayer, sacrifice made, hour spent studying, and investment in formation, I am grateful to my brothers for walking the way with me and showing me how to become a better version of myself.

The St. Michael the Archangel Award recognizes "that person who has contributed significantly to the life of the seminary by establishing something new and beneficial or, through exceptional fidelity, commitment, creativity, and good will, has furthered something already established." Without knowing why people listed me for this award, I speculate that it was for my work as the soccer coach and as a contributor to our Mount Angel Seminary Journalism program. I spent a fair amount of time with both projects this year and enjoyed each. If I can contribute to the life of my community doing things I enjoy and receive an award as a result, I am thoroughly blessed.

In addition, two close friends were also award winners at the Annunciation Dinner. My seminarian brother Michael was recognized with the St. Benedict Award for exemplifying the ideals of formation as a student, man of prayer, and servant leader. My journalism instructor and Writing Center advisor Sr. Hilda Kleiman, OSB, received the St. Bonaventure Award for faculty achievement and excellence. Both were deserving, both celebrated with me, and both helped me along my way the last two years. Sharing the joy with them made the award even more special.

Thanks to my seminary community for the opportunity to live, be formed, and work among you. Thank you for honoring my place in the community. Thank you for loving the Lord and His Church. And thank you for journeying with me each day.

Sr. Hilda Kleiman, OSB, and I show our medals and our joy.