I have recently had general discussions with a couple friends, one old, one new, on the fact of going to seminary. It has prompted some reflections I have had before with others who ask about it, and I feel like sharing them, for whatever it's worth.
First of all, like all academic experiences, the classroom part is only part of the seminary experience. The relationship between academics and extra-curricular is closer, as I will explain in a moment, but it is only part of it. It is important to remember that people come to seminary for a variety of reasons, from a variety of faith backgrounds, with a variety of goals. It is also important to remember that, like any experience, what one receives is only proportional to what one gives, and what one allows oneself to take in. I had classmates whose theological position shifted one hundred eighty degrees during seminary; I had others who didn't budge an inch, viewing the experience as one more hurdle to get over to the real goal of serving a church.
When I started, I remembered the words of a woman in the midst of seminary. She explained that seminary plants dynamite at the building of your faith, and early on blows it all to smithereens. The remaining task is one of constructing, brick by brick, something stronger. I would only add to this that sometimes the new bricks have to be made first, and it doesn't stop when you walk out, degree in hand. Should you be open enough, the rebuilding of faith takes the rest of your life.
Part of the intensity of seminary is the fact that a person's faith is intricately tied up with their identity. Any blow to something a person believes is immediately construed as a personal attack. Any question that confronts an article of conviction is an attack on a person's integrity. I witnessed discussions in seminary classrooms that could have descended to barroom brawls because each side was much too emotionally involved.
Because of this intensity, there was a whole lot of partying, and laughing, and serious discussions and arguments outside the classroom. Interesting enough, we rarely left issues in the classroom, but talked and argued and drank and laughed about all this stuff together outside the classroom. The degree to which one was committed to investigating all this stuff tended to determine how willing you were to keep going after hours. There were many times we gathered at a pizzeria over on Wisconsin Ave, NW, with multiple pitchers of beer, and ate and drank and talked theology until the wee hours.
Because of the emotional intensity, people tended to become more in touch with their won inner conflicts and problems. The amount of therapy seminary students went through was phenomenal, myself included. You want to investigate your own motives, and the sources of those motives. It could lead people down interesting paths, sometimes scary paths.
I remember well Lisa's crisis. At the halfway point through her first semester, she was sitting and crying on the curb in front of the academic building, because it had just hit her that the last post she had clung to supporting her old way of believing was gone. She wondered if there was any place to go. I sat, consoled her, and reflected on my own journey both to and away from that place. The nice thing, the best thing, is that we have done it together.
Virtual Tin Cup
