Last year, when I was preparing the address I was to offer at my installation in a faculty chair, I read through a number of similar addresses given by theology professors throughout the centuries. One of the great things about century old institutions like the church or the academy is that we’re standing at the shoulders of generations and generations of predecessors. That can be stifling, but also quite inspiring. And so I wanted to know what previous scholars had said.

Reading these old addresses, I was not even so much struck by what these scholars had said but by what they took themselves to be involved in. In our time and age we tend to think about a seminary as a professional school, that is, a place that fosters professional competencies in our students. We want our students to be able to read and interpret Scripture, understand church history, analyze theological texts, and stay abreast of the latest psychological and sociological insights so that they are well prepared for the tasks that await them after seminary, whether ordained ministry, academic study, or other kinds of service.

But earlier generations would say that there is something deeply incoherent in such an understanding of theological education. In teaching our students to read and interpret Scripture, to understand church history, to analyze theological arguments, we teach them to think about God. We help them to understand God better. But if the aim of a theological school is to produce skilled professionals, then the thinking and speaking about God that we do in the context of our school becomes instrumental. Our gaining knowledge of God is not for the sake of God, but for the sake of our own professional development. In treating God instrumentally, our predecessors would hold, we are failing to do the very thing we set out to do: to speak about God truthfully. To treat God instrumentally is to deny the very being that God is: the one to whom all things are directed, not the one who can be directed at all things.

Therefore, these older scholars do not talk about theological education as a form of professional formation. They talk about it as spiritual and ecclesial formation. “What is the goal of the theological education?” asked Gisbertus Voetius, a 17^th century Dutch theologian, in his installation lecture. “It is the contemplation of salvation, of the virtues… And of piety [the goal of which is] the common worship of God.” In other words, these scholars think about theological education not as a preparation for a professional career, but for a way of life.

It strikes me that these earlier generations of theological educators were right. They would be right theologically, if they were to charge the “seminary as professional school” paradigm with incoherence in using God instrumentally. But they would also be right in an oddly more pragmatic sense. We all know how theological education is in turmoil these days. Our enrollment numbers are falling; and the number of our students that expects to go into regular parish ministry is shrinking. The idea that they have clearly defined professional futures no longer matches reality. At the same time, I believe there are significant groups in our churches who never grace the seminary with their presence exactly because they are not interested in a professional ecclesial career, but who might be very interested in high level theological education if differently conceived. Think of retiring Baby Boomers who are looking for meaningful use of their time and talents, or young professionals who are looking for a better understanding of discipleship in a post-Christendom society.

What if we therefore think about a theological institution not so much as a professional school, but as a place where the church sets aside and fosters an academic community? An academic community invited to a common life? A common life shaped by theological reflection, which in turn draws us deeper in knowing, loving, and worshipping God? An academic community which is educational in that it invites students to join in, to walk with us, to participate in our common life, and as such to be formed in the habits of reflection, and knowing, and loving, and worship – be it for the time of a three-year M.Div. or other degree program, for continuing education or a doctorate in ministry, or maybe just for a class or two or three?

Conceiving of a seminary in this way would demand some real re-thinking of what we’re doing. It would maybe ask us to think, as our predecessors, of theological education not so much as preparation for a profession, but for a way of life. But sometimes, the future lies in the past.

The Rev. Dr. Edwin Chr. van Driel was installed into the Directors’ Bicentennial Associate Professor of Theology Chair in May 2014. Over the coming months, he’ll share additional insights from his installation address. You can also read more about his thoughts on the future of the Church and his other research interests on his faculty website. Professor van Driel teaches in the MDiv and DMin programs.

I am a lover of words. I enjoy the cacophony of sound as each syllable is poured from my lips and building bridges from each word like bricks. Being a word smith has led me on many adventures through the tumultuous shifting waters of linguistics. Yet, even with all the joy I procure from unearthing lyrical discoveries in peeling back layers of semantics, I have been no stranger to the question, as I’m staring at the Greek or Hebrew text before me, of

“For what exactly do I need this again?”

Many an argument can and has been made that languages should be cut from the curriculum of those preparing for ministry. How is parsing Greek participle phrases going to help me balance the church budget? How are Hebrew paradigms going to help me fill the church on Sunday morning? How is muddling my way through these ancient languages going to help my congregation embody justice and peace in this world?

Those and many others like them are valid questions. What does a seemingly obscure scholastic endeavor have to do with the practicality of church?

To answer this quandary, I turn to Acts 6: 1-7. In this portion of the narrative, widows, a vulnerable people group, were being neglected. When the complaint is brought before the 12, the 12 gather the entire community and say, “It is not right that we should neglect the word of God in order to wait on tables. Therefore, friends, select from among yourselves seven men of good standing, full of the Spirit and of wisdom, whom we may appoint to this task, while we, for our part, will devote ourselves to prayer and to serving the word.”[1]

Now this can be seen as the 12 shirking hard labor, refusing to roll up their sleeves and get to the real nitty gritty. However, that is not the case. What the 12 saw as the cause for the brokenness in their community was the lack of the gospel. This is the same dilemma the Church faces today.

And how can we fully understand the gospel without being able to hold hands with the language in which the gospel was first understood? As reformer and theologian Martin Luther puts it,

“…we will not long preserve the gospel without the languages. The languages are the sheath in which this sword of the Spirit is contained….If through our neglect we let the languages go (which God forbid!), we shall not only lose the gospel, but the time will come when we shall be unable either to speak or write a correct Latin or German.”[2]

The theological significance then of learning biblical languages is nestled in deep partnership with the mission and ministry of the Church – sharing the good news of great joy to all.

[1] Acts 6: 2-4, NRSV.

[2] Martin Luther, “The Importance of Biblical Languages”, To the Councilmen of All Cities in Germany That They Establish and Maintain Christian Schools, (1524). http://faculty.tfc.edu/juncker/GRK453LutherOnLanguages.pdf

Rebecca Dix is a senior MDiv student at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary. After graduating this summer, she plans to return to PTS for her master of theology degree and feels called to pastoral ministry and the arts.

There have been a lot of discussions pertaining to the future of public education in this country and Pennsylvania has certainly left its marked on the conversation. Almost two-years ago, the Governor of Pennsylvania cut $1B in state funding from the Commonwealth’s budget leaving distressed school districts further distressed—if not taken over—and public universities crying foul.

Pittsburgh is no longer the city of steel but the city of “eds and meds” and certainly the senior administrators of our institutions voiced their concerns about the effects these cuts would have on our colleges and universities. But is education a public good and does it deserve the support of the wider community?

Before the $1B cut, there were school children who were challenged to learn by sharing (or doing without) textbooks and districts that had to cut music and art programs. What then do we think is left to fully and properly educate our children? Many blame poor student outcomes on bad teachers and, as a result, philanthropic organizations have directed millions of dollars toward creating evaluative tools that measure teacher effectiveness. While I do believe parent engagement is critical to the success of public education, fostering animus between teachers and parents and vice versa is not the answer.

You might ask why a seminary trained clergyman would have comment on this. My concern is rooted in my seminary education. The training I received for my master of divinity (MDiv) degree helped me to exegete communities and the issues that give rise to their good or failing health. Separation of church and state is the prevalent excuse many clergy and parishioners use to justify a laissez faire position on anything political but does that align with the will of the God of justice?

A person with a social work degree may find themselves engaged in a family crisis resulting from conditions of poverty and its corresponding under resourced schools. There is room at the table for those with an MA in theology or an MDiv, but only if seminaries are willing to provide the training necessary.

Anna Oliver, a Methodist pastor, once said, “If the intelligence of the community is promoted the cause of religion is advanced.” This was a quote from her in the Saturday morning St. Paul Daily Globe, dated Feb. 24, 1883. One might ask the question, “What relevance is there in a quote from 1883?” This quote has the same relevance as the statement written almost 2000 years ago in Matthew 21 where it states, “for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me…”

When we, the people of God, take the time to promote the “intelligence of the community” by insuring everyone, and especially the least of these, has access to all the resources needed for a quality education whether public or private, then not only is religion advanced but so is Christ.

The Rev. John Welch is a 2002 graduate of Pittsburgh Seminary. He earned his MDiv degree, served in parish ministry, and is now the Seminary’s vice president of student services.