By Torey Lightcap
Those who normally attend to this space are doubtlessly, increasingly aware of what would appear to be a disconcerting trend. I refer to the apparent financial state of seminaries in schools and programs affiliated with The Episcopal Church.
This is not to say that the education itself suffers. Indeed, in their own way the minds and hearts of students and teachers have never been more active and attuned to how God is speaking in the here-and-now. As an alumnus of one such institution who has remained somewhat connected to his alma mater, I am heartened and excited by what I see and hear, and of the lessons emerging of what people have been able to do with what they have been given.
The problem, inasmuch as I am able to scrutinize and diagnose, is that the investment corpuses of these institutions have hit on very hard times, and that the upticks seen in cloudy economic forecasts have yet to be realized on the daily profit-and-loss sheets watched over by deans and other administrators. Hard times dictate big decisions; support staff are lost; everything is trimmed, yet every effort is made to still maintain programmatic intensity and integrity.
How long can that trend possibly continue? Until things break open and the long-dormant economy rebounds from recession, or until things are simply broken?
I wish that a billion dollars would fall out of the sky so that I could write a gigantic check to all Episcopal seminaries and end the fuss. But as my salty grandmother was fond of saying, if you wish in one hand and spit in the other, see which one fills up first.
Such times call for moments of unrestrained creativity and off-the-map thinking, after which the practicalities follow on. In that spirit, here is an idea that both fails to recognize the problem and starts new ones, but that seizes on the already uncertain moment.
What if all education in Episcopal seminaries was offered for free for one academic year? Just what if?
As the rector of a medium sized parish in the Midwest, I know. I get it. I watch the bottom line, too; I’m a practical person, and I get concerned when our income is outweighed by our expenditures. But occasionally you have to set aside implicature and ruminate about the question itself. What harm can it do, after all, just to entertain one little question?
So how about it? Laughable, right? Totally naïve. A little hand-grenade of a thing. But…
Can you imagine what it would be like to throw open the doors of our hallowed halls and invite in everyone predisposed to learn more about where their faith came from? Can you imagine the excitement and goodwill generated by a gesture so large and so caring?
Holy Scripture could be understood and read in a more generous and intellectually rigorous way. The past would dance off the page for students of history. The insights of individual and parish spirituality would be given to as many as were desirous to learn. Chapels would brim with students seeking regular doses of healthy Anglican worship. Students without a professional ministerial interest could challenge and affirm the clergy to be, and vice-versa. Participating institutions would advance considerably in name recognition as “those crazy seminaries” for good or ill. In short, it would be an absolutely brilliant mess.
I can think of a hundred reasons why something like this wouldn’t possibly work, and they all have to do with completely practical things: money and space and coffee supplies and goodwill worn thin. All good points, all very well taken. But what an amazing gesture of charity and hope for the future of the church.
It’s just a thought.