Knives, Bear Blood, and Yetis: Denver Seminary’s Very Normal Weekend Retreat

When frat-house theology meets postconciliar formation, you get a vice rector in a yeti costume and an exorcist on cleanup duty.

Well folks, pack it up. The Novus Ordo seminary experiment has reached its natural conclusion: midnight blood oaths administered by a theology professor in a ski cabin trailer, accompanied by a man in a yeti costume and, of course, a camera.

Because nothing says “future priest of Jesus Christ” quite like being blindfolded in your pajamas, led out into the Colorado snow, and told by your superior to scream while bear blood is poured on your hands to signify eternal brotherhood.

Welcome to Mount Haze-More

You may have heard of St. John Vianney Seminary in Denver, a place where young men prepare for the altar of sacrifice. Apparently, part of that preparation now includes acting out a scene from Eyes Wide Shut: Catholic Edition at a ski resort owned by a devout Catholic with a flair for cosplay and bear fluids.

Former vice rector Fr. John Nepil, formator, professor, and (allegedly) moral compass, organized a 2024 ski trip that included a charming little ritual involving daggers, fake blood, and secret society LARPing. Because obviously, what seminarians need isn’t the Spiritual Exercises, it’s Fear Factor with clerical faculties.

Prank or Pact?

The Archdiocese of Denver insists this wasn’t hazing or an occult ritual. No, no. It was a “farce.” You know, like the rest of postconciliar priestly formation.

“No oath was actually taken,” said officials, despite multiple seminarians being filmed with their mouths duct-taped and bloodied rags around their hands. Apparently, that’s just how young men bond now. Gone are the days of ping-pong and rosaries. Today it’s trauma-bonding through simulated ritual bloodletting, followed by a group share with the diocesan exorcist.

Nothing says imprudent but ultimately harmless like needing an exorcism, right?

The Bear, The Blade, and the Budget

Now, before you start thinking this was a planned hazing ritual dreamed up by a bunch of ecclesiastical frat boys, don’t worry. It wasn’t Fr. Nepil’s idea. It came from the ski cabin host, a Catholic man with a penchant for dressing up as a yeti and pouring animal blood on people. As one does.

Imagine being the seminarian who said, “No thanks,” and got rewarded with a new ecclesial euphemism: the “human year.” Which is apparently what they now call “creative dismissal.” You refuse to join the Bear Blood Brotherhood, and suddenly your formation team decides you need twelve months to think about your humanity, and not call yourself a seminarian while doing it.

Makes you wonder what happens if you refuse a group trust fall.

Nepil’s Excellent Apology Tour

Fr. Nepil has issued a heartfelt apology for…being misunderstood. At a Mass after his reinstatement, instead of acknowledging that he spent Christmas break roleplaying as a medieval cult leader with a camcorder, he lamented the trauma of being falsely accused, despite literal video evidence of him holding a knife over a seminarian’s arm and telling him, “This will hurt for a second.”

Weird how everyone’s lying except the guy holding the dagger.

Still, the archdiocese insisted he was removed from formation duties “immediately,” except that he wasn’t. He remained vice rector through the rest of the year, because…administrative continuity is sacred. Also possibly because there’s a capital campaign to fund, and nothing oils the donor gears like covering up bizarre rituals involving seminarians and pseudo-bloodletting.

Bring in the Exorcist

To be safe, the archbishop called in the exorcist. Not because anything demonic was suspected, but “out of an abundance of caution.”

Which raises the obvious question: if it’s just a prank, why are we doing exorcisms? And if it requires an exorcist, why is the prankster still teaching theology?

It’s a classic Vatican II-era dilemma: treat everything as unserious, until it gets so spiritually dangerous that you need deliverance prayers, but not so dangerous that you can’t keep the guy on payroll.

Formation, But Make It Fashion

Ultimately, we’re told this doesn’t reflect the values of the seminary. But according to numerous priests, it does reflect the values of avoiding scandal during a multi-million-dollar fundraising drive.

Let’s review:

• A vice rector simulates a cult initiation with seminarians on camera

• One seminarian refuses and is quietly suspended

• An exorcist is called in

• The rector gets the boot

• The yeti-loving prank priest keeps his faculty post

• Everyone else is told to stop talking about it

Seminary reform, 21st-century style: You can scream with fake bear blood all over your hands, but God forbid you chant the Asperges in Latin.

Closing Benediction

This is the same Church, mind you, where celebrating the Traditional Latin Mass will get you shipped off to the diocesan broom closet with a copy of Fiducia Supplicans and a rainbow flag. But if you simulate a cultic oath with a dagger and a guy in a fur suit, just say you were being pastoral and imprudent.

In the end, it’s just another reminder that if you’re forming priests in a system that doesn’t believe in the sacred, they’ll eventually invent something to fill the void.

Even if it involves a yeti.