There are 3 types of seminarians:
1. Those who go for an M.Div so that they can pastor a church.
2. Those who simply want to further their theological education.
3. Those who want to go on to get Ph.D's so that they can teach. Or at least have the right to remind others that their name is Dr. So-and-so.
I still can't understand why after a doctorate degree, one gets to be called "doctor". I mean, that's fine and all, but shouldn't those of us with master's degrees get to be called "master"?
I digress.
I am of the third type from the list above. I would like to teach. (I would also like to have people call me "master", but that's another blog for another day.)
So, here's my question: what is the best educational path for those of us who wish to pursue a doctoral degree? What is the best seminary? And how important is my choice of grad school?
I am currently doing some research. I want to see what's out there, what school would best meet my needs, and what I can do to get myself into the best position for the future. It's a lot of confusing work, because I'm not sure what path to take.
So, there it is. Just because one has made it to seminary doesn't mean all the hard decisions are over.
Any suggestions?
DL
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Monday, December 10, 2007
Theology and Ministry: A "both/and" proposition.
I've learned a few lessons as a performing songwriter.
1. Never publish anything you wouldn't want everyone to hear.
2. Never criticize your audience.
3. If you're interested in writing pop songs, the songs aren't good until an audience approves them.
I've just finished my first quarter in grad school, working towards a master's in theological studies. As far as Christian learning goes, there are two general territories.
I operate in the Ivory Tower. I get to look at books, examine theories, make claims about theology in practice that logically should work, and call those who are out in ministry idiots because they don't care about academic study since it's just theoretical.
The other position to have is to be down in the trenches. These are the people that work with the congregations, have fluid, ever-changing theories drawn out of experience, make attempts to do ministry better by trial and error, and call those who are in the Ivory Tower idiots because they aren't in the thick of it, and they're just not practical.
I guess one more division couldn't hurt Christianity, eh?
I have a problem trying to decide which one of these two M.O.'s is the "better" one. Using songwriter lesson #3 above, I see a chance to take this division and bring it to a place of "both/and".
The advantage that theologians have is that we are able to see a broader picture of the church at work throughout history, and make corrective suggestions to maintain both orthodoxy and orthopraxy. For example, without looking at the effects of modernism, how could we know we are ministering in a post-modern culture? Without taking time to examine the church year and Jewish festivals, would we ever consider that celebrating communion weekly rather than quarterly is more in keeping with Christian tradition and theology? These are the things we can worry about because we aren't planning seeker-sensitive services and making sure we have candles for communion Sunday. On the other hand, we tend to have idealistic views of how things should be, even when how they should be could be harmful for a community.
The advantage of being in the ministry is being able to sense the needs of a particular community in a particular time and place. It holds the unique opportunity of contextualizing faith in order to reach a specific group of people. Ministers are the ones being the hands and feet of Christ, bringing his message to the world and continuing in God's redemptive work of all creation. At the same time, ministry can produce bad theology. A committed community of faith can fall victim to preaching sermons that disregard Christianity apart from their Sunday group of gatherers; or it could be so concerned with social justice that it reduces Jesus from God to social liberator.
As I write I can't help but think, "How is this blog going to change anything?" I believe that feeling of inadequacy demonstrates the point well enough. When we are writing about the faith, we can only get so far, but perhaps we can be a catalyst for change. When we are practicing the faith, we can make the change, but maybe we can seek guidance from others.
When it's all said and done, the Church is in need of both: theologians and ministers. As I have learned, a pop song isn't considered good until an audience approves it. And as I am learning, theology must resign itself to the testing ground of the church before it can be approved.
DL
1. Never publish anything you wouldn't want everyone to hear.
2. Never criticize your audience.
3. If you're interested in writing pop songs, the songs aren't good until an audience approves them.
I've just finished my first quarter in grad school, working towards a master's in theological studies. As far as Christian learning goes, there are two general territories.
I operate in the Ivory Tower. I get to look at books, examine theories, make claims about theology in practice that logically should work, and call those who are out in ministry idiots because they don't care about academic study since it's just theoretical.
The other position to have is to be down in the trenches. These are the people that work with the congregations, have fluid, ever-changing theories drawn out of experience, make attempts to do ministry better by trial and error, and call those who are in the Ivory Tower idiots because they aren't in the thick of it, and they're just not practical.
I guess one more division couldn't hurt Christianity, eh?
I have a problem trying to decide which one of these two M.O.'s is the "better" one. Using songwriter lesson #3 above, I see a chance to take this division and bring it to a place of "both/and".
The advantage that theologians have is that we are able to see a broader picture of the church at work throughout history, and make corrective suggestions to maintain both orthodoxy and orthopraxy. For example, without looking at the effects of modernism, how could we know we are ministering in a post-modern culture? Without taking time to examine the church year and Jewish festivals, would we ever consider that celebrating communion weekly rather than quarterly is more in keeping with Christian tradition and theology? These are the things we can worry about because we aren't planning seeker-sensitive services and making sure we have candles for communion Sunday. On the other hand, we tend to have idealistic views of how things should be, even when how they should be could be harmful for a community.
The advantage of being in the ministry is being able to sense the needs of a particular community in a particular time and place. It holds the unique opportunity of contextualizing faith in order to reach a specific group of people. Ministers are the ones being the hands and feet of Christ, bringing his message to the world and continuing in God's redemptive work of all creation. At the same time, ministry can produce bad theology. A committed community of faith can fall victim to preaching sermons that disregard Christianity apart from their Sunday group of gatherers; or it could be so concerned with social justice that it reduces Jesus from God to social liberator.
As I write I can't help but think, "How is this blog going to change anything?" I believe that feeling of inadequacy demonstrates the point well enough. When we are writing about the faith, we can only get so far, but perhaps we can be a catalyst for change. When we are practicing the faith, we can make the change, but maybe we can seek guidance from others.
When it's all said and done, the Church is in need of both: theologians and ministers. As I have learned, a pop song isn't considered good until an audience approves it. And as I am learning, theology must resign itself to the testing ground of the church before it can be approved.
DL
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)