Associated Mennonite Biblical Seminary : 2000 Seminar
Narrative
Where Angel(ic Doctor)s Fear to Tread
Interested Parties in Sacred Space (/Turf)
Charles, the balding, paunchy, yet curiously appealing director of M.A. studies—with his graying beard, tweed jacket, blue jeans, and button-down oxford-cloth shirt from Lands End, he imitated his own professors of two decades past—assumed the posture of an empathetic listener, assiduously taking notes as senior students discussed the seminary's M.A. programs. The seminar included students enrolled in three different programs—Master of Arts in Christian Formation, Master of Peace Studies, Master of Theological Studies—and, within the last program, students in three different concentrations: Bible, Church History, and Theology & Ethics. While Mennonite students formed a majority in the seminar, it also included students who were Anglican, Methodist, Roman Catholic, and more, who came from various parts of the U.S. and Canada, but also from Africa, Asia, and Latin America.
This was the last meeting of the year-long seminar, and the students, soon to graduate, were suggesting ways to improve the M.A. programs. Charles, who also teaches Old Testament, listened to their disparate voices and their often contrasting criticisms and suggestions with some defensiveness, distracted as he was by anxiety over a woefully overdue book review, an approaching lecture series whose lectures he had yet to write, a sermon he had yet to prepare for a Sunday service three days and two states away, and long-simmering tensions on a faculty committee that would meet that afternoon.
One suggestion provoked extended discussion. Dieter, a theology and ethics student and a Mennonite with long experience in Mennonite churches and educational institutions, suggested eliminating a specific course requirement. The seminary, since before most of its current faculty arrived on the scene, has required one course, Mission and Peace: The Church's Mission in the World, of all students in all degree programs. Faculty of an earlier generation sought to ensure that students had the opportunity to acquire a holistic view of justice/peace-making and mission, which lies at the heart of the school's theological identity. They hoped that requiring every student to take Mission and Peace would help to achieve that end.
Now Dieter said that he found the course repetitive: it went over ground that he covered in other seminary courses or, earlier, in college, and it seemed designed to move students to embrace convictions that he had long since embraced and were among his reasons for coming to this seminary in the first place. Ophelia, also Mennonite and a biblical studies student, expressed a similar view. "Besides," she added, "my advisor said that he doesn't know why just this course should be required of everyone. But I had to take it anyway."
Indira, an Anglican from India, expressed surprise at Dieter's and Ophelia's remarks. "Mission and Peace was for me a transforming course," she said. "It helped me to understand what this seminary is about and why. I think everyone should take that course. My advisor told me that the Mission and Peace course is an expression of the distinctive Mennonite vision: that peace is mission, and that mission has peace as its content and goal, since the gospel of Jesus Christ is the gospel of peace and reconciliation."
Stephan from Rwanda, a peace studies student, spoke in support of Indira, and gave moving testimony to his experience of reconciliation between Hutus and Tutsis. He advocated in favor of the Mission and Peace course precisely for its cross-cultural mission component. "Mennonites," he said, "still tend to understand peace and reconciliation within a North American context, vastly out of touch with most of the world. They need this course."
Martha, a Michiana Methodist from Mishawaka, expressed reservations. She had found the Mission and Peace course instructive, but mainly for helping her to understand the theologically, ecclesially, and culturally alien context in which she was being educated while she pursued a degree in church history and wrote a thesis on Methodist hymnody. "This seminary has not yet learned how to welcome non-Mennonite students. All the professors assume that all the students are Mennonites."
Late in the hour, several students who had not previously addressed the issue suggested that Mission and Peace should become a recommended elective for M.A. students. This suggestion gained the support of the seminar. Charles said he agreed with it and that he would make a recommendation to the dean.
Dean Stoltzfus, also Professor of New Testament and two years from retirement, was editing his latest manuscript when Charles entered his office. As the dean listened to Charles's recommendation, his face fell into a deep frown. When Charles had finished, the dean began to enumerate the obstacles. Professor O'Leary, who teaches Mission and Peace, would object to having it demoted to an elective, with good reasons. The Church Ministries Department, where Professor O'Leary's appointment is lodged, would object to this diminution of the seminary's mission agenda, with good reasons. The Peace and Justice Committee would object to this diminution of the peace agenda in the seminary, with good reasons. Older faculty would object to this cavalier disregard of tradition and of the seminary's very culture.
This conversation seemed to energize Dean Stoltzfus. He reached for a bulging folder in the filing cabinet drawer marked "Curricular Skirmishes." Hoisting the ponderous folder to shoulder level, the dean intoned, "These are the minutes and these are the notes from the discussions that finally led to the introduction of the Mission and Peace course. God forbid that we should reopen that hornet's nest." Adjusting his glasses nervously, Stoltzfus muttered something about likely needing to evaluate the Mission and Peace course again. After musing for a few moments about how such a review might be conducted, he realized, with some surprise, that Charles was still in the office. Dean Stoltzfus concluded that one should not tinker with a well-established curriculum. Besides, even if Charles's recommendation from the M.A. students were to be approved, he added, each of the three departments would then lobby to have one of its courses required instead. "I would have a steady stream of faculty in this office, each of them vigorously mounting arguments, highly principled, of course, and with ‘broad support,' why her department or his should have a larger stake in the curriculum, consistent with our mission as a seminary and for the sake of our students, the church of Jesus Christ, and the reign of God on earth."
Abashed, Charles suggested that perhaps the entire M.A. curriculum should be revisited. After reprimanding Charles for using the hackneyed term "revisit" in his presence—this provoked a brief discussion over whether "hackneyed" was itself hackneyed, and about its etymology—Dean Stoltzfus replaced his frown with a grin. "Charles," he said, "that is a capital idea! And I will happily recommend that discussions regarding curriculum revision begin the very morning following my retirement."
The semester and the academic year having ended, Charles had no need or opportunity to report to the seminar whose students had generated the failed recommendation. But he pondered many of these things in his heart, including the adage of an earlier president of another seminary: "We graduate most of our problems each spring."
Where Angel(ic Doctor)s Fear to Tread
Interested Parties in Sacred Space (/Turf)
Charles, the balding, paunchy, yet curiously appealing director of M.A. studies—with his graying beard, tweed jacket, blue jeans, and button-down oxford-cloth shirt from Lands End, he imitated his own professors of two decades past—assumed the posture of an empathetic listener, assiduously taking notes as senior students discussed the seminary's M.A. programs. The seminar included students enrolled in three different programs—Master of Arts in Christian Formation, Master of Peace Studies, Master of Theological Studies—and, within the last program, students in three different concentrations: Bible, Church History, and Theology & Ethics. While Mennonite students formed a majority in the seminar, it also included students who were Anglican, Methodist, Roman Catholic, and more, who came from various parts of the U.S. and Canada, but also from Africa, Asia, and Latin America.
This was the last meeting of the year-long seminar, and the students, soon to graduate, were suggesting ways to improve the M.A. programs. Charles, who also teaches Old Testament, listened to their disparate voices and their often contrasting criticisms and suggestions with some defensiveness, distracted as he was by anxiety over a woefully overdue book review, an approaching lecture series whose lectures he had yet to write, a sermon he had yet to prepare for a Sunday service three days and two states away, and long-simmering tensions on a faculty committee that would meet that afternoon.
One suggestion provoked extended discussion. Dieter, a theology and ethics student and a Mennonite with long experience in Mennonite churches and educational institutions, suggested eliminating a specific course requirement. The seminary, since before most of its current faculty arrived on the scene, has required one course, Mission and Peace: The Church's Mission in the World, of all students in all degree programs. Faculty of an earlier generation sought to ensure that students had the opportunity to acquire a holistic view of justice/peace-making and mission, which lies at the heart of the school's theological identity. They hoped that requiring every student to take Mission and Peace would help to achieve that end.
Now Dieter said that he found the course repetitive: it went over ground that he covered in other seminary courses or, earlier, in college, and it seemed designed to move students to embrace convictions that he had long since embraced and were among his reasons for coming to this seminary in the first place. Ophelia, also Mennonite and a biblical studies student, expressed a similar view. "Besides," she added, "my advisor said that he doesn't know why just this course should be required of everyone. But I had to take it anyway."
Indira, an Anglican from India, expressed surprise at Dieter's and Ophelia's remarks. "Mission and Peace was for me a transforming course," she said. "It helped me to understand what this seminary is about and why. I think everyone should take that course. My advisor told me that the Mission and Peace course is an expression of the distinctive Mennonite vision: that peace is mission, and that mission has peace as its content and goal, since the gospel of Jesus Christ is the gospel of peace and reconciliation."
Stephan from Rwanda, a peace studies student, spoke in support of Indira, and gave moving testimony to his experience of reconciliation between Hutus and Tutsis. He advocated in favor of the Mission and Peace course precisely for its cross-cultural mission component. "Mennonites," he said, "still tend to understand peace and reconciliation within a North American context, vastly out of touch with most of the world. They need this course."
Martha, a Michiana Methodist from Mishawaka, expressed reservations. She had found the Mission and Peace course instructive, but mainly for helping her to understand the theologically, ecclesially, and culturally alien context in which she was being educated while she pursued a degree in church history and wrote a thesis on Methodist hymnody. "This seminary has not yet learned how to welcome non-Mennonite students. All the professors assume that all the students are Mennonites."
Late in the hour, several students who had not previously addressed the issue suggested that Mission and Peace should become a recommended elective for M.A. students. This suggestion gained the support of the seminar. Charles said he agreed with it and that he would make a recommendation to the dean.
Dean Stoltzfus, also Professor of New Testament and two years from retirement, was editing his latest manuscript when Charles entered his office. As the dean listened to Charles's recommendation, his face fell into a deep frown. When Charles had finished, the dean began to enumerate the obstacles. Professor O'Leary, who teaches Mission and Peace, would object to having it demoted to an elective, with good reasons. The Church Ministries Department, where Professor O'Leary's appointment is lodged, would object to this diminution of the seminary's mission agenda, with good reasons. The Peace and Justice Committee would object to this diminution of the peace agenda in the seminary, with good reasons. Older faculty would object to this cavalier disregard of tradition and of the seminary's very culture.
This conversation seemed to energize Dean Stoltzfus. He reached for a bulging folder in the filing cabinet drawer marked "Curricular Skirmishes." Hoisting the ponderous folder to shoulder level, the dean intoned, "These are the minutes and these are the notes from the discussions that finally led to the introduction of the Mission and Peace course. God forbid that we should reopen that hornet's nest." Adjusting his glasses nervously, Stoltzfus muttered something about likely needing to evaluate the Mission and Peace course again. After musing for a few moments about how such a review might be conducted, he realized, with some surprise, that Charles was still in the office. Dean Stoltzfus concluded that one should not tinker with a well-established curriculum. Besides, even if Charles's recommendation from the M.A. students were to be approved, he added, each of the three departments would then lobby to have one of its courses required instead. "I would have a steady stream of faculty in this office, each of them vigorously mounting arguments, highly principled, of course, and with ‘broad support,' why her department or his should have a larger stake in the curriculum, consistent with our mission as a seminary and for the sake of our students, the church of Jesus Christ, and the reign of God on earth."
Abashed, Charles suggested that perhaps the entire M.A. curriculum should be revisited. After reprimanding Charles for using the hackneyed term "revisit" in his presence—this provoked a brief discussion over whether "hackneyed" was itself hackneyed, and about its etymology—Dean Stoltzfus replaced his frown with a grin. "Charles," he said, "that is a capital idea! And I will happily recommend that discussions regarding curriculum revision begin the very morning following my retirement."
The semester and the academic year having ended, Charles had no need or opportunity to report to the seminar whose students had generated the failed recommendation. But he pondered many of these things in his heart, including the adage of an earlier president of another seminary: "We graduate most of our problems each spring."
Some Teaching and Learning Issues
When the above narrative was presented to the AMBS faculty, The Lexington Seminar team identified several teaching and learning issues inherent in the narrative. The team is confident that this narrative will elicit active conversation about the following issues:
- How does a seminary "teach the tradition" and form students in it when students are at such diverse places with respect to the tradition? Or how do we teach, in the same classroom, students who first have to learn "the tradition" and those who want and need to learn how to handle the tradition critically or how to practice the tradition?
- How do we deal with another kind of diversity, created by the presence of so many international students in our classrooms?
- How does a faculty construct a student-centered (or any other kind of) curriculum when curricular discussions are so fraught with terror?
- How do external factors (such as time pressures, faculty conflicts, inter- or intra-departmental competition) affect teaching and/or learning?
- What role does advising play in the quality of learning