Oh, hello, internet. Remember me? Remember that night, when we sat on your porch looking at the stars and listening to the cicadas, the nervous energy and romantic frisson causing us both to laugh a little too hard about things that weren’t all that funny? And remember how I cupped your face tenderly in my hands, looked lovingly into your eyes, yammered on about vaguely religious-themed topics to you, promised to call… and then weeks went by?
Have you left me for another, my dear? I can’t say I’d blame you. What can I possibly say to make up for it? Shall I explain that my husband and older son went on a European vacation for ten days and left me with the 2yo? And that I’ve been facing my dissertation, course prep for the new semester, and a lingering cold? As I write it all out like that, it seems so flimsy.
Well, you think about it, internet. I’ll blog while you ponder. Because, like the saying goes: if you love the internet, set it free! If you come back, you’re mine; if you don’t, you never were. (Or else you have appropriate boundaries and don’t like being jerked around by a flaky blogger. Maybe they’re the same thing.)
(Seriously, sorry for the long absence.)
First thing: Enough people have said smart stuff about the Ground Zero Falsely So-Called Mosque Falsely So-Called, that I don’t think I have a lot to add. Do you have a good link to share, though? By all means, do so.
Second thing: So, theological education. This might be one of those inside baseball topics, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot and am curious what smart internet friends have to say.
I think you know I teach at a seminary affiliated with the Disciples of Christ denomination. Here’s a little history lesson, and a contemporary problem, that I frankly find fascinating: Seminaries used to be places that young men would go to for a few years, to study how to interpret the Bible (because this knowledge wasn’t generally available elsewhere), at the end of which time they would have a credential (a Master of Divinity, say) that allowed them to be ordained by their denominations (e.g. Disciples of Christ) to go serve as the pastor of a church (an occupation for which there were ample openings that paid a living wage).
No longer. Seriously, every single clause in that paragraph has completely changed. People often go into the ministry as a second or a third career. Higher education is one of those information industries thrown into flux by the new economy; its role as official disseminator of information, skill sets, and credentials has been challenged now that information is more available and skill-building more entrepreneurial. Denominations? The doctrinal and organizational factors that historically made Presbyterians different from Methodists have less and less traction (and mind you, I’m not complaining about this; but inasmuch as seminaries’ donor bases come from denominations, it affects theological education.) There aren’t nearly the jobs for “ministers,” if what you mean by that is “person paid to be in charge of this particular congregation that meets in this particular building.” The jobs there are often don’t pay a living wage. And of course, women are going into ordained ministry in greater proportions (which is not to say that they always find accepting congregations on the other end).
To say nothing of the fact that the “train the trainer” model has not proven sufficient for (at least) theology of even the most lukewarmly “tolerant” variety. By that I mean that giving the clergy a theological education, in the hopes that they would go back and educate their churches, has not gotten the job done. All too often it means that seminary graduates know (for example) that the Bible is a historical and very complicated document, but are scared to preach it that way because they fear how the people in their congregations — who they have to keep happy while living on ramen and possibly not having health benefits — will react.
This is one of the things my colleagues and I have been talking about at our recent faculty retreat. Everything about theological education as we’ve ever known it is in the midst of this massive, massive upheaval. I suppose I should fear for my career prospects and earning potential — and sometimes I do — but I can’t help seeing in this a tremendous opportunity. This is the time to be entrepreneurial, to re-invent theological education: make it more socially just, more widely available, and less hierarchical. (And, I would say, more -ism-dismantling and privilege-aware. MUCH more.)
Internet? Your thoughts? What would this look like? The model I keep rolling around on my braintongue is (in shorthand) “the “the Etsy of theological education.”
Third thing: Our favorite dim sum place has moved from waaaay across town to a mile from our house. Also, the nasty heat wave has broken. For the record, I approve of these changes.
Thank you for your incisive analysis of the state of clergy employment today. I can’t speak to theological education, but when I compare my co-pastor parents — who have been at the same church for 31 years and counting — to the population at the divinity school up the hill, I see many of the trends you describe. As a historical question, I’m particularly interested in the divide between pulpit and pew over the complexity of biblical interpretation, and the risk of alienating the people who pay you to make theology simpler. This isn’t new, but I wonder if a tighter job market in mainline denominations makes the gap particularly salient for current students.
Fascinating post. I agree that changes in the Church need to happen. The fact that the big Mega-churches are becoming increasingly popular while many Mainline churches are dying is evidence of this. Congregations would rather hear from the pulpit what they want to hear, not what they need to hear.
There needs to be a balance between the old and the new. Theological education should be adaptable, while not forgetting the past.
You know … I had an interesting week at my orientation. I was one of the oldest people in the room. There were 60 new MDivs and most of them were fresh out of college. I was stunned. Having cut my theological teeth at our seminary, where I was one of the younger people, I didn’t know what to make of it.
I suppose I’m glad for that, but I don’t know what it means. One to three churches in my denomination close a week, I’m told. Mine isn’t the only one that’s closing churches. As mainline churches, which require degrees, close, so goes the need to educate ministers. Denominations are even moving to allowing ordination without a degree. So goes the need for theological education. Yes, we’re picking a bad time to get into this. I’m just hopeful that something else will come up. I was told, not just at orientation last week but also at a seminar I attended this summer, that scholars are being called upon more and more to be public intellectuals, rather than the keepers of esoteric knowledge. I’m hopeful for that, but I’m really hoping that someone comes up with a way for us to get paid in the process.
@Thealojin — Just… yes. Yes. To everything you wrote. Seconded, thirded, fourthed.
Most of the MDivs were fresh out of college?! Interesting. The entering class at PTS this year was markedly younger. The MDiv class at Duke Divinity has been very young (and very male) for several years. Yet Gen Ys are reputed to be suspicious of institutions, and the U.S. is becoming less religious, with “none” being the fastest-growing religious group.
Hmmm. Any guesses what’s going on?