Vanderbilt University Divinity School : 2006 Seminar
Narrative
“ROB’S LETTER”
AN OCCASION FOR CHANGE
VANDERBILT DIVINITY SCHOOL
Vanderbilt Divinity School is a university-based theological school that prides itself on its diversity and its academic excellence. Diversity takes many forms at Vanderbilt. The faculty and student body represent more than 35 discrete religious traditions, from Orthodox Jews to Church of Christ, and from Missionary Baptist to Unitarian-Universalist. Diversity is also interwoven into the public “Commitments” of the school. Where other schools have theological confessions in the opening of their catalogues, Vanderbilt’s key statement of purpose reads, “The Divinity School is committed to the faith that brought the church into being, and it believes that one comes more authentically to grasp that faith by a critical and open examination of the Hebraic and Christian traditions.” From this nuanced academic statement of purpose, the school goes on to commit its common life to overcoming racism, anti-Semitism, homophobia, and sexism, and environmental degradation. At Vanderbilt, these social principles function as a radical commitment to inclusion and to an academic ethos that welcomes a huge array of students on the premise that anyone can study matters of faith together, so long as they commit themselves to respect of others.
Overall, this inclusive, political, and academic environment is what attracts students and faculty to Vanderbilt. At Vanderbilt, everyone is encouraged to be themselves and to delight in others being their own selves. Yet, as one faculty member is fond of saying, “Sometimes the worst thing you can tell somebody is ‘just be yourself.’” At a deeper level, faculty and students have been heard to wonder out loud how students come to know who they are inwardly and spiritually in the midst of a community whose diverse voices sometimes resemble a cacophony more than a symphony.
When the dean got back from his summer vacation, a letter was waiting on his desk. The letter was from Rob, a member of the Class of 2005. The letter began, “Over the summer I have been thinking about my experience at Vanderbilt. I am truly grateful for the education I received at the Divinity School. I was privileged to have wonderful professors and lots of attention, so I do not want to imply that I am dissatisfied with what they did for me educationally. But I think the whole Divinity School experience needs more attention to spiritual formation.” Rob went on to propose three specific actions that the Divinity School take to correct what he saw as its shortcomings in this area:
1. Hire a campus pastor.
2. Institute a spiritual retreat for all first-year students.
3. Offer a required course on spiritual formation.
Upon reading this letter in its entirety, the dean’s first thought was: “Rob?” Of all people, Rob would have been the first person to resist any school or person that “pried into his soul.” Rob was, like so many bright young students at the Divinity School, a recent and earnest religious studies graduate of an excellent liberal arts college, who came to the school weighing ordained ministry against other vocational paths. The dean’s second thought was, “there’s something here.” The dean had taught Rob in a church traditions class, been second reader for his M.Div. thesis, and watched Rob pour out his own energy leading the Divinity Choir and a residence hall of freshmen. How sad, he thought, that an engaged student like Rob was having regrets so soon after graduation about opportunities he’d missed; or opportunities he missed having.
Later, the dean shared Rob’s letter with the academic dean and the dean of students. They reacted first to the three recommended activities: “We can’t do all that!” they agreed, and had a laugh about the neo-pagans, Eastern Orthodox, Wesleyans, Calvinists, Baptists, and Disciples who would all complain that their tradition was not being well-served by the campus minister, whomever that might be. As for the course possibility, they imagined the line outside the academic dean’s door to seek exemptions from the course. “We can’t always persuade our students that they need to take two semesters of constructive theology,” said the academic dean, “Can you imagine a course that hits even closer to home? If they don’t want to share what they really think about God, how could we hope to get them to share their experiences of God and the Holy?”
After a moment, the mirth faded and conversation turned to the question, “What do we owe our students in terms of becoming in touch with their spiritual selves during their time with us?” The associate dean commented, “I thought we were going to get criticized about this during the ATS self study.” “Well now we’ve got it set before us without a visiting committee breathing down our neck,” said the dean, “So what would spiritual formation look like that was respectful, ecumenical, and even interfaith at a place like ours?” The three deans agreed that the question was worthy. They also agreed that they needed help thinking this one through with colleagues.
In the spring semester, three forums with students seemed to indicate two things: First, students want to have opportunities to participate in spiritual retreats, to learn how to attend to their own interiority, and are especially worried about becoming “empty vessels” in ministry. Second, however, they don’t want to be required to participate in these opportunities. When the deans shared the state of their conversations with the whole faculty at a regular meeting, one professor commented, “It’s not surprising that our students don’t want to be forced to take spirituality, no one on our faculty would want to teach it!” Another professor added quickly, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that! We’re a professional school and the profession these students are headed toward is ministry, if we don’t attend to their vocations and persons, who will?” The first faculty member replied, “Oh, I’m all for vocational counseling, I just don’t think it’s our place to lead them in prayer.”
“ROB’S LETTER”
AN OCCASION FOR CHANGE
VANDERBILT DIVINITY SCHOOL
Vanderbilt Divinity School is a university-based theological school that prides itself on its diversity and its academic excellence. Diversity takes many forms at Vanderbilt. The faculty and student body represent more than 35 discrete religious traditions, from Orthodox Jews to Church of Christ, and from Missionary Baptist to Unitarian-Universalist. Diversity is also interwoven into the public “Commitments” of the school. Where other schools have theological confessions in the opening of their catalogues, Vanderbilt’s key statement of purpose reads, “The Divinity School is committed to the faith that brought the church into being, and it believes that one comes more authentically to grasp that faith by a critical and open examination of the Hebraic and Christian traditions.” From this nuanced academic statement of purpose, the school goes on to commit its common life to overcoming racism, anti-Semitism, homophobia, and sexism, and environmental degradation. At Vanderbilt, these social principles function as a radical commitment to inclusion and to an academic ethos that welcomes a huge array of students on the premise that anyone can study matters of faith together, so long as they commit themselves to respect of others.
Overall, this inclusive, political, and academic environment is what attracts students and faculty to Vanderbilt. At Vanderbilt, everyone is encouraged to be themselves and to delight in others being their own selves. Yet, as one faculty member is fond of saying, “Sometimes the worst thing you can tell somebody is ‘just be yourself.’” At a deeper level, faculty and students have been heard to wonder out loud how students come to know who they are inwardly and spiritually in the midst of a community whose diverse voices sometimes resemble a cacophony more than a symphony.
When the dean got back from his summer vacation, a letter was waiting on his desk. The letter was from Rob, a member of the Class of 2005. The letter began, “Over the summer I have been thinking about my experience at Vanderbilt. I am truly grateful for the education I received at the Divinity School. I was privileged to have wonderful professors and lots of attention, so I do not want to imply that I am dissatisfied with what they did for me educationally. But I think the whole Divinity School experience needs more attention to spiritual formation.” Rob went on to propose three specific actions that the Divinity School take to correct what he saw as its shortcomings in this area:
1. Hire a campus pastor.
2. Institute a spiritual retreat for all first-year students.
3. Offer a required course on spiritual formation.
Upon reading this letter in its entirety, the dean’s first thought was: “Rob?” Of all people, Rob would have been the first person to resist any school or person that “pried into his soul.” Rob was, like so many bright young students at the Divinity School, a recent and earnest religious studies graduate of an excellent liberal arts college, who came to the school weighing ordained ministry against other vocational paths. The dean’s second thought was, “there’s something here.” The dean had taught Rob in a church traditions class, been second reader for his M.Div. thesis, and watched Rob pour out his own energy leading the Divinity Choir and a residence hall of freshmen. How sad, he thought, that an engaged student like Rob was having regrets so soon after graduation about opportunities he’d missed; or opportunities he missed having.
Later, the dean shared Rob’s letter with the academic dean and the dean of students. They reacted first to the three recommended activities: “We can’t do all that!” they agreed, and had a laugh about the neo-pagans, Eastern Orthodox, Wesleyans, Calvinists, Baptists, and Disciples who would all complain that their tradition was not being well-served by the campus minister, whomever that might be. As for the course possibility, they imagined the line outside the academic dean’s door to seek exemptions from the course. “We can’t always persuade our students that they need to take two semesters of constructive theology,” said the academic dean, “Can you imagine a course that hits even closer to home? If they don’t want to share what they really think about God, how could we hope to get them to share their experiences of God and the Holy?”
After a moment, the mirth faded and conversation turned to the question, “What do we owe our students in terms of becoming in touch with their spiritual selves during their time with us?” The associate dean commented, “I thought we were going to get criticized about this during the ATS self study.” “Well now we’ve got it set before us without a visiting committee breathing down our neck,” said the dean, “So what would spiritual formation look like that was respectful, ecumenical, and even interfaith at a place like ours?” The three deans agreed that the question was worthy. They also agreed that they needed help thinking this one through with colleagues.
In the spring semester, three forums with students seemed to indicate two things: First, students want to have opportunities to participate in spiritual retreats, to learn how to attend to their own interiority, and are especially worried about becoming “empty vessels” in ministry. Second, however, they don’t want to be required to participate in these opportunities. When the deans shared the state of their conversations with the whole faculty at a regular meeting, one professor commented, “It’s not surprising that our students don’t want to be forced to take spirituality, no one on our faculty would want to teach it!” Another professor added quickly, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that! We’re a professional school and the profession these students are headed toward is ministry, if we don’t attend to their vocations and persons, who will?” The first faculty member replied, “Oh, I’m all for vocational counseling, I just don’t think it’s our place to lead them in prayer.”