Changing the World with Lentil Stew

So, apparently there’s now this new…group..or organization…or something…of “Seminaries that Change the World.”   

“Seminaries that Change the World is an invitation to a generation of idealists, activists, volunteers and servant-leaders who have demonstrated a commitment to community service and social justice.”

According to this website (and I should note that mostly the reason I care is that my alma mater, Luther Seminary, is a part of this group), people should consider going to seminary as a route to changing the world.

Ugh.

The leading quote on the website is, “Give me a place to stand, and I will move the earth,” supposedly uttered by Archimedes (about, um, physics, not metaphysics, but whatevs, right?).  Anyway…no quotes from the Bible.  Nothing about the words of Jesus or the empowerment of the Holy Spirit.  Not even anything about a generic non-denominational, genderless “God.”  

All, 100%, totally in curvatus se.  So, definitely something Lutherans would want to be involved with.  (For those of you who are sarcasm-impaired, that last sentence includes a gigantic eye roll.)

Now look, if they wanted to throw some Jewish or Muslim seminaries (is that what they’re even called?) on this list, and then they’d need to back away from the Jesus stuff a little, okay.  I get that it is possible to be a trained leader in a non-Christian religion, and I don’t begrudge people that. (I think they’re wrong, but I don’t begrudge them, and I certainly don’t want to take away their religious freedom to believe and practice as they see fit.)  

But.  But.  All of the schools in the group are Christian.  

And Christians know – or at least, they used to – that the only person who has any real power to change the world is Jesus Christ.  Even if you’re operating from the perspective that “changing the world” is coterminous with “God’s mission in the world,” you still have to contend with verses like Phillippians 2:13, “…it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure.”

It’s just not about you.  It’s just not about you.  Say it with me, Christians, it’s just not about you. 

Carl Braaten, in discussing the “Two Kingdoms Theory” says this: 

“Historical liberation and eternal salvation are not one and the same thing. They should not be equated. The gospel is not one of the truths we hold to be self-evident; it is not an inalienable right which the best government in the world can do anything about. There are many people fighting valiantly on the frontline of legitimate liberation movements who are not in the least animated by the gospel. The hope for liberation is burning in the hearts of millions of little people struggling to free themselves from the conditions of poverty and tyranny. When they win this freedom, should they be so fortunate, they have not automatically therewith gained the freedom for which Christ has set us free (Gal. 5:1).”

This is excellent.  It is utterly, and absolutely, perfectly stated.  Yay, Carl Braaten.  (Why, why, oh why are there no theologians like him left in “this church”?)  “Changing the world” is great, so far as it goes.  But if we learned anything last week from Jesus’ takedown of the Sadducees, it’s that “this world,” and all it has to offer, is not the last word, and it is certainly not the only thing we have to look forward to do.  

“Changing the world,” is, I suppose, a noble task.  But it is not, in and of itself, Christian ministry.  And Christian seminaries should know this.  If the best we can be about is “changing the world,” with a little sprinkle of Jesus on top, then what the hell are we doing????  

“If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied….If the dead are not raised, ‘let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.” (1 Corinthians 15:19, 32)

Should seminaries be encouraging their students to live and practice the faith, and not just hunker down inside their own heads full of knowledge?  Of course.  Go forth, “change the world,” if that’s your thing.  So much good has been done, so much love has been shown, and so much gospel has been proclaimed in the concrete acts of love and mercy done by the Church throughout the ages, and let us pray that these might continue!

But these acts of love and mercy, of “changing the world,” have been done by a Church that was, as Braaten puts it, “animated by the gospel.”  By people who know that the death and resurrection of Jesus has already changed the world, and that we live and move and have our being on the basis of that reality.  Any so-called seminary that can’t see clear to that (and by choosing to associate with this “Seminaries that Change the World” it seems that they can’t) really doesn’t deserve to call itself Christian.  

Not only that, but the mission will ultimately fail.  Because “changing the world” comes from God, at the end of the day.  Because the problem with the world is not just that people aren't nice enough.  The problem with the world is sin, death, and the devil.  And the only - only - fix for that is Christ crucified.  Christ, and only Christ.  “Then the one who is seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new.’”  Not – “Then the one who is a nice person said ‘go out and make all things new.’” 

A seminary that is teaching its students to paint a veneer of religion over the mission of the Peace Corps is trading its rich heritage for a bowl of lentils, Jacob-and-Esau style.  

May the Lord have mercy upon us, and may He come quickly, to at last, once and for all, “change the world.”   

Thoughts from an alum

Given the news coming out of Luther Seminary today, I thought I'd offer my reflections.  A couple of things I write here are suggestions of actions I believe would be helpful; some are simply my thoughts, feelings, and reactions.  Other people may disagree with my suggestions, or feel, think, and react differently.  That is fine.  Also, please note: I am a very recent alum.  I am not an HR guru, a finance person, or a higher ed administrator.  I am not a current student, nor a an old-timer with a degree from LNTS.  I'm a first-call pastor at a smallish congregation in a small Midwestern town.  So, here goes.

• I like Rick Bliese.  From his rosy Santa Claus cheeks to his "dad jeans", by all accounts, he is a good, caring person who loves Jesus and the students, faculty, and staff at Luther.  He has personally been very supportive to me during my time at seminary and in candidacy, and I feel bad that this is what eventually "had" to happen.
• We need to be in prayer for him and his family - obviously this is a huge, and hugely negative, transition for them, down to the fact that they live in seminary housing and so will need to find a new place to live.
• The seminary is going to have to find a way to start handling pastoral care for students.  I'm aware Luther just hired a new campus pastor - I know nothing about her except that she's supposedly good.  I hope she is, although she has no institutional memory at this point, and in times of major upheaval such as this, that can be somewhat limiting.  Others are going to have to step up.  Students on campus are literally (yes) dying for someone to care for them.  Administration is generally available to meet one-on-one, or hold a "forum" in the chapel for people to (sort of) air their concerns.  But very few individuals offer one-on-one prayers, or hugs-and-tears.  Students feel trampled-upon at frequent intervals, and the sense, I believe, is that even when policies, decisions, transitions, whatever are "good" or "right", they are handled in a way that communicates that students aren't all that important.  Just like churches that want to grow need to start asking, "If I were a visitor, how would I react to this?", Luther staff/administration needs to start asking, "If I were a student, how would I react to this?"  
• I feel lied to.  For years, we have heard from President Bliese and others that, "Look, the economy [and the 2009 decisions] have been rough on everybody.  We're struggling, but we're making good decisions, and we're going to be okay.  We're certainly in better shape than the others."  I'm not sure whether Luther is "struggling, and not going to be okay", or whether the other 7 are already 6-feet-under, as it were.
• This raises huge vocational questions.  What are any of us doing as pastors in the ELCA, receiving graduate education from her seminaries, when they are all barely - barely - keeping their heads above water? What is the long-term survivability of the ELCA?  And if the answer is "not much", then why are we all dragging ourselves through the torture that is candidacy?  
• It also raises huge vocational reminders: I don't believe (or at least, I haven't heard anything that would make me think) Rick Bliese is guilty of true illegalities: fraud or embezzlement or such.  Apparently he asked forgiveness today for "poor fiscal leadership".  Mismanagement and poor leadership are not illegal, but they are sinful.  As pastors/youth leaders/professors/etc, we need to be aware that our own mismanagement and poor stewardship of what we've been given (not necessarily, or only, money) is just as sinful in the eyes of Our Lord as embezzlement. 
• I love Luther, and I thoroughly enjoyed my time there.  (Well, most days...)  I love the faculty and staff, the administration, my fellow students.  I learned a lot of really awesome facts and ideas there, and I grew tremendously.  But I have a ton of educational debt, as do most of my fellow students.  The cafeteria is barely open anymore.  Contracts prevent students from purchasing books...at the bookstore. And yet, certain individuals and departments spend ridiculous amounts of seminary funds on high-end coffee and cookies every day of the week.  There are flat-screen TVs in every corner of Northwestern and the OCC.  NW and OCC have both recently undergone major asthetic remodels, while the dorms and apartments battle bedbugs and mold year-round.  I understand that fundraising is not as simple as "write us a check, please, and make it out to 'cash'".  I understand that donors want to earmark their money for things that they might not realize aren't totally the top priority.  But the administration needs to realize that students notice these things, and fair or not, find statements about "concern for rising student debt" to sound rather platitudinous against the backdrop of a flatscreen TV  hanging on the wall in the lunchline. 
• "Where there is no vision, the people perish."  Look, this isn't about Rick Bliese.  It's not really even about the economy, or about 2009 decisions that torqued off rich old ladies, or spending money on frivolities instead of necessities.  It's about the fact that much of the ELCA and many of her associated enterprises - Luther Seminary among them - has taken its eye off the ball.  We are told that we are to be missional - but missional about what?  A vast cohort of students, faculty, and staff (and therefore pastors, bishops, and synod staff) get more worked up about personal pronouns for God than personal relationships with God.  We are taught that to "want people to come to church on Sunday morning" indicates a lack of understanding that God works outside the church.  We are taught that the Church, and Word & Sacrament, are nice, you know, but so are justice and advocacy.  I spent more time in seminary learning about "family systems" than I did sacramental theology.  No, for realz.  I was assigned more papers about why we shouldn't evangelize, than about how and why we should.  I recognize that this is a huge indictment of the entire system, and I want to be clear that I do not, by any means, include anyone and everyone who is part of the system in this.  There remain many, many good and faithful students, faculty, staff, pastors, bishops, and synod staff.  But donors (and your average layperson trying to decide whether to venture out into the cold to go to church on Sunday, for that matter) don't get excited about advocacy for advocacy's sake, or "training students to reflect a baptismal approach to missionality blah blah blah", or even "buy your own hymnal!"  You know what's exciting?  Jesus.  Jesus is exciting because He forgives sins - our own, and everybody else's.  He is exciting because by the power of the resurrection, he transforms lives in the here and now.  He is exciting because he is constantly creating us anew, he promises us eternal life, he has already begun to set this upside-down world right-side-up again and one day he's going to finish the job, there's gonna be a new heaven and a new earth, where everything is going to be fixed, and how awesome is that going to be? Tell little old ladies that we're training pastors to reach out to the world around us and share the everlasting love of Jesus Christ.  Tell them that with passion, and conviction, like it's the best thing you've ever heard about (because it is - even better than sliced bread) and they'll start writing checks.  Tell them you've got students who are slogging through the economy just like the rest of us, but who are so in love with Jesus that they'd be here no matter what, come hell or high water, bedbugs or mold, learning how to spread the Good News in the 21st century just like Paul did in the 1st, and people will be fired up.   

So there you've got it - just some honest first impressions from the recent grad. Feel free to chime in with your own, or tell me I'm totally wrong.  But something's gotta be done, that's all I know.  And remember to pray for Rick Bliese.  

All Over But the Shoutin'...

And just like that, I'm done with seminary.  How weird.  Actually, I've been done for a week now, since senior grades had to be turned in last week, but today was my last class.  I'll be honest - it feels weird.  Like, wait, what just happened?  The last four years have absolutely flown by - where did they go?  Lost in a whirlwind of classes and friends and CPE and internship and crazy people and awesome professors and "vocational discernment" and work and books and tragedy and comedy and just ... incredibleness.  It's just...gone.

I'm not sad, per se.  Just...sentimental.  The saying-goodbye piece is different here than in high school and college.  Of course, there's the last day of classes and baccalaureate and graduation and and and.  And maybe I'll be sad then.  But my friends are all leaving at different times and different paces.  You bond differently in seminary, or at least, I did, than in high school or college.  There are a couple college friends that are people I care about very much still, but very few of them are people that weren't in "my class".  Those few who weren't are people who, for whatever reason, I just stayed - or became? - close to.  But so much of high school and college revolves around "your class".  Basically everyone is in and out in 4 years, and while we all go off to different colleges or jobs or grad schools, being that graduating class is the main thing.

Seminary has been much different.  I've bonded with people over faith, over key experiences, over classes and professors and - frankly - the important things.  The things that have made me friends with people from high school and college who were in "not my class".  There are people who have graduated before me - and who will graduate after me - who are my true "classmates", my true friends, the ones who I know will be there with me and for me when the road ahead is tough. We all come from different places, and we are going different places.  Some of us have been here 4 years, some 2, some 10.  But love - the love of Christ - has brought us and bound us together.  And I am so, so grateful.

I'm not much of a name-dropper, but I'm doing it here.  Maybe because I need to tell this to myself, maybe because I want to let the people I love know that I love them, maybe because I need to give thanks to God for all that he's given me.

I am grateful for Katie - who I think was possibly my first "seminary friend" - one of the first, anyway.  And she is also, I think, my "last seminary friend."  I am grateful for her companionship, her laughs, her hugs, and her always understanding what I'm trying to say.  I'm grateful that she has been attached to my hip, and that she drinks wine with me, and tries to convince me that I need to not tolerate people's crap.

I am grateful for Liz - she who understands the strangeness of home.  I'm grateful that she never judges, never condemns - I'm grateful that she lifts me up and dusts me off when I need it.  I'm grateful that she is such a good listener, and that she loves Jesus and is always as excited to see me as I am to see her.

I am grateful for Rachel - I'm grateful that she pushes to places that I need to go, and I'm grateful that she tells me who I belong to and how much I am worth.  I am grateful to her for showing me what freedom in Christ looks like.

I am grateful for Brian - I am grateful that he has taught me to stand my ground, and to seek the Truth at all times.  I am grateful for his ministry, and the call on his life, and his ability to preach the Gospel - even to me. 

I am grateful for Andrea - I am grateful that she is kind and sweet and loving and pastoral.  I am grateful that she so often confirms my suspicions about what ministry looks like, and I am grateful that she teaches me so much.

I am grateful for Angela - I am grateful for her quirky, honest takes on life, love, and ministry.  I am grateful that she makes me reevaluate my presuppositions, and I am grateful that she makes me laugh and loves so deeply.

I am grateful for Susan - I am grateful she picked me, Angela, Andrea, and Brian.  I pray that, in the end, it may turn out to have been as life-giving of a choice for her as it was for all of us.

I am grateful for Will - I am grateful to him for reminding me that good guys do still exist, and that they love Jesus, and that said love bleeds out into the rest of their lives.  I'm grateful that he has been such a fantastic co-HR, that he humors me and my quirks, and pushes me when I need to be pushed.

I am grateful for Tim - I am grateful to him for teaching me about boundaries, and how hard they are to draw, and how necessary.

I am grateful to Melinda - I am grateful for her honesty.  I am grateful for her laughter, and I am grateful to her for reminding me - the former MA - that MAs still exist.

I am grateful to Susan - I am grateful to her for her faith and for her witness.  I am grateful for her prayers and for her example.  I am grateful for her help with my Prophets paper.

I am grateful to Dr. Jacobson - I am grateful to him for slowly, by example, teaching me what it means to live the life I've been given.

I am grateful to Dr. Koester - I am grateful to him for providing the inspiration for so many sermons I will preach.  I am grateful to him for asking the important questions.

I am grateful to Dr. (?) Fever - I am grateful to him for showing me what responsible, faithful Biblical scholarship looks like.  I am grateful that he provided a setting where I could learn to get along with St. Paul.

I am grateful to Dr. Malcolm - I am grateful that she taught me what it means to be free.  I am grateful that the Holy Spirit works so powerfully through her words.

I am grateful to Dr. Throntveit - I am grateful that he understands what it means to teach the Bible specifically to people who are becoming pastors.  I am grateful for his faith, and for his desire to build up the faith of his students.

I am grateful to Bishop Foss - I am grateful that he is kind and caring and loves Jesus so much.  I am grateful that he has accepted God's call to be exactly where he needs to be.

I am grateful to Mike - I am grateful that he pushed me towards this vocation, even when I didn't really want him to, and even when I thought he was wrong because of so many things I couldn't tell him.

I am grateful to my candidacy committee - I am grateful that even though they are crazy, they made me fight for my voice, and fight for my call.

I am grateful to God - I am grateful that he has stuck by me, his unworthy servant, despite my repeated attempts to not listen, my repeated instances of totally misinterpreting him, and my general failure every day to live as though I actually believe in him.  I am grateful that he still loves me. 

Reentry

So...there's all these rumors about how hard "reentry" from internship is.  I don't know if I believed them, but I kind of do now.  On the one hand, things have been pretty good.  I live in a great room, everything is unpacked and organized, I've gotten to see most of my friends, I've made some new ones, classes are going pretty well, etc...

But on the other hand, something just seems...off.  Different - better - last week, than this week?  I think part of it is my classes - I hardly see any friends in my classes.  Theologically, I feel very isolated - not so much in terms of who I eat lunch with, but in terms of who I deal with in class.

I've got one foot in the ELCA, and one foot out.  One foot in ministry, and one in the academy.  One foot in Lutheranism, and one foot...not.  One foot in the college dorms on campus, and one foot desperately wanting a house and home and husband to share life and love and ministry with. 

I feel like I don't really belong anywhere.  I feel like I'm the only person who came back from internship not 100% in love with it.  I'm more - and less - committed to certain things theologically, ecclesiologically, and practically, than ever, and I feel like I don't have a safe space to work that out and ask questions about the things that I'm thinking.

I feel like the questions we are asking in class are not the questions I am asking at all.  At all. 

I also feel a certain depression and disconnection that tends to come about whenever I've come through a major discernment and revelatory process.  Not sure whether that's Satan trying to destroy my joy and conviction, or the sadness of saying goodbye as certain doors close, or just coming down off the high of feeling really super good about God, or what.  Probably a combination. 

I feel like in the last year I had a ton of people to love, and now I don't really have anyone.  I'm one of the few unmarried seniors still hanging around - which is depressing, and I'm really struggling with hope, trusting God to change that. 

I feel really busy, and not busy at all.  Internship was actually fairly relaxed for the most part.  My first two years at seminary, though, were packed.  Packed.  Packed with work and with school and more work and friends and classes travel and just on-the-go all the time.  Now, I'm not working.  I'm taking a ton of classes, but the work is all backloaded to the end of the semester in all of them (ugh), so I'm kind of spending lots of time just laying around reading for class. 

So many of my friends are gone - or at least, not living with me anymore - which is strange.  All the parts of my life seem really disconnected. 

And I need an attitude adjustment.  I will admit that I came back to school convinced that everyone I met was going to be a raging heretic, and it was going to be my job to preserve orthodoxy for all to hear.  Which turns out to not be totally accurate.  Some days it's true, but not always.  I've kind of been reveling in the "crabby senior" mentality I seem to have acquired.  Elijah complex, anyone? 

So, you know, pray for me. 

The State of the ELCA

It is a weird, weird time to be in the ELCA, and even stranger to be in seminary. It's not something that is very popular to say, but the whole denomination is in a lot of flux right now. Money is extremely tight, individuals and congregations are leaving for any number of other smaller, alphabet soup Lutheran "denominations", others are staying and waiting for better options. There's not a lot of leadership within the denomination - for those inside or outside the seminaries. This adaptation of Luther's "my conscience is bound to the Word of God" to "my conscience is bound to me and my personal opinion" has, in my personal opinion, left a lot of people scrambling.

Everybody has to say that what everybody else thinks or says is okay, even though no one actually thinks that anything other than their own opinion is, in fact, okay. There is miscommunication, distrust, suspicion, and rudeness on all sides. Seminary students and professors have to guess at each other's opinions from classroom vibes or campus rumors. Seminarians and candidacy committees play footsie with each other, trying not to talk about the thing that everyone is talking about and no one is talking about, all at once.

As a new friend of mine has been prone to say, "It all comes down to authority." Who is in charge, who is leading this bandwagon of crazy ELCA-ers, and where is that person (people?) leading us?  I wish I knew...