Part 10: Theologian Turned Timothy

I crawled out the window and ran into the woods. I had to make up all the words myself. The way they taste, the way they sound in the air. I passed through the narrow gate, stumbled in, stumbled around for awhile, and stumbled back out. I made this place for you. A place for you to love me. If this isn’t a kingdom then I don’t know what is.
— Richard Silken

A man knows he has found his vocation when he stops thinking about how to live and begins to live. 
― Thomas Merton

I wiped off the beer foam that was tickling the tip of my nose and upper lip as I settled into my unforgiving wooden chair in the low-lighted, noisy, yet nevertheless “gezellig” Dutch pub.

Across from me, on the other side of the table, sat my thesis supervisor.

This was not the first (nor the last) time we had shared a drink. In the months prior we had on occasion spoken at great lengths over a beer (or two) about not only my thesis topic but also life at large, with its many strange and mysterious and wonderful dimensions.

But this occasion was special.

With the joyful clink of our glasses still sounding in my ears, he gave me a very warm “congratulations” and a heartfelt smile.

A few days prior I had successfully defended my thesis before the examination board and had officially been bestowed with the title of “Master of Theology and Religious Studies.”

I was finally done.

And yet, truthfully, I didn’t care that much — about the actual degree, that is.

It was strange - I remember when I was confronted with the bureaucratic logistics of “diploma conferral” and the coordination of a graduation ceremony - it was like I had forgotten that these things existed at all or that these were very normal and common motivators for students.