What Project Runway can teach us about Christian formation

By Marshall Scott

So, there I was, watching Project Runway, when I found myself thinking about Clinical Pastoral Education.

Perhaps I need to back up a bit. I’m not a fan of most “reality shows” or “unscripted television.” The first such shows, focused on a combination of manufactured events and cutthroat gamesmanship, couldn’t hold me. Neither could the next generation, even though I think music and dance have value. Somehow the weekly wager, which seemed less about the contestant’s talents than on the confrontation of the contestant’s apparent hopes and a judge’s rigorous, not to say scathing, response, largely left me annoyed.

I must admit, however, that I do eat and I do cook; and so there’s hardly a cooking competition on television that I don’t catch. I’ve been a fan of “Iron Chef” since it was only available dubbed from the Japanese. And I do dress and care what I look like, and even sew a bit (I at least repair my own cuffs when the hems sag); and so I found myself interested when my wife was watching “Project Runway.”

I think what I find most interesting in these shows is the interplay of personalities. To some extent, I mean the interplay between contestants, and between contestants and judges. More than that, though, I mean the interplay between each contestant and his or her own work. I find interesting the process of creativity, of how each person sets a vision and pursues it, in light of the demands (the “secret ingredient” or the special client), the limitations (of time and resources), and the qualifications of the judges.

I must admit, too, that I am something of a geek, and in each of these shows there is a “geek moment.” That’s when some person, whether one of the judges or a special consultant, comes to each contestant in the midst of the process and asks what the contestant is doing. Now, the initial response of the person makes more sense to the geek than to me, with its bare description set in professional jargon. However, there is after that another question or comment, intended to understand how the contestant is thinking: something like, “You’re using capers; do you worry that the dish will be too salty?” or “Is a skirt that short going to make your model look cheap?” The comment doesn’t always stop or even sway the contestant, but it presses the person to think, and invites the audience to think, too.

That sort of question is also relevant to CPE. For those not familiar, “CPE” is clinical pastoral education. It is an opportunity for students in ministry to experience ministry first hand, and to learn in the process of doing. It’s called “clinical” because the first such education centers (and the great majority of centers today) were in hospitals. It’s “pastoral” in that the point is for students to learn how to be better pastors, largely by understanding their own gifts and learning needs, and working to improve on both. Most folks in professional ministry have some experience of this sort, whether in CPE or in supervised ministry experiences and internships in congregations. However, since CPE is the primary educational experience for my work as a hospital chaplain, it’s the model with which I’m most familiar.

I even thought, for a few years, that I might have been called to be a clinical pastoral educator, a CPE Supervisor (in my program; other programs use the title “Diplomate”). For several years I was in clinical education focused on, not only how I might be a better pastor, but on how I might help others be better pastors. I was deeply involved in educating “reflective practitioners” (some readers will recognize the influence of the work of Donald Schon), professionals who were not only good at what they did, but who were also thinking about what they were doing so as to consider how they might do it better. The goal to which I wanted to call students was reflection on practice, not only after the fact, but in the midst of practice.

And that, I think, is how I found myself watching “Project Runway” and thinking about CPE. I was watching the “geek moment,” when the estimable Tim Gunn was asking a contestant both what the contestant was doing and what the contestant was thinking. Connections flashed in short order (sometimes when my wife asks what I’m thinking, I respond, “I’m bouncing.”). I found myself thinking about Tim Gunn’s tenure as a professor of fashion design, and wondering just how one teaches “design.” Then I realized that it had to do with teaching reflective practice, which brought to mind Donald Schon’s work (especially Educating the Reflective Practitioner, which was important in my own study). And so I found myself thinking about CPE.

I also found myself thinking about formation. After all, any process of pastoral education (indeed, of any professional education) is about formation. It’s more than simply imparting a body of knowledge or a set of skills. It’s also about shaping the mind and the heart of the practitioner so as to know what information is relevant, and what skill to use and when.

This is at the core of many kinds of professional practice, really. It’s the idea behind the Quality Improvement/Quality Management movement in business and industry. It underlies the focus in healthcare on Performance Improvement and even the current discussion of Comparative Effectiveness. All such programs are really about paying attention to what we do in practice so that we can think about how to do better the next time.

Which is, actually, what all formation is about, including Christian formation. This is not simply a part of the vocation of the religious “professional;” it’s part of the vocation of every Christian. Every Christian is called to “profess,” which is the core requirement of a professional. We are all called to this sort of vocation, to be formed as “professional Christians.”

Now, we might shy away from that title. I fear that the title “professional Christian” has taken on a narrow image; or more specifically an image of a narrow Christian, full of knowledge, with known skills, and prepared to be critical – largely of others.

But that’s not really the call of the professional, as entertaining as it can be on a reality show. The call of a professional is to be self-critical, to be a reflective practitioner. The thoughts I’m called to are first “How can I be a better pastor,” and second “How can I improve the pastoral work of the Church,” and not, “I know what he or she needs to do to be a better pastor.” (And, yes, there is a time and place for that question; but it’s in the voluntary relationship of student and educator, of directee and director.)

So, I think we are called to be formed as, and to help form “professional Christians.” Indeed, I think that it’s well established in our faith. Think about Paul’s image of the athlete, always in training to do better. Think about our ascetical tradition, with its attention to how we might be ever more open to God in our lives. Think, indeed, about our continuing use of the sacrament of penance. Granted, we repeat that aphorism, “All can; some should; none must,” emphasizing most often that “none must.” However, the rite itself is about recognizing our failures as grounds for amendment of life, not wallowing in our wretchedness. It is, if you will, a tool for reflective practice and performance improvement.

We are all, I believe, called to be “professional Christians,” and “professional” specifically in the sense of being reflective practitioners. Moreover, when we are called to be educators and directors, I think we are called to help others form as reflective practitioners. I know this isn’t really new thought; but like many classic thoughts, it’s worth returning to now and again. If we can be attentive to our lives as Christians, not only acting but reflecting on our actions; not only caring but attending to our caring; we will discover how we might better live out our lives as Christians. We will discover how we might be more “professional” in our professing. We can make the phrase “professional Christian” representative of the best the Church has to offer, and not of a narrow caricature. It is a part of our vocation to become more professional in our professing. It might even help us attract new folks who want to profess with us.

The Rev. Marshall Scott is a chaplain in the Saint Luke’s Health System, a ministry of the Diocese of West Missouri. A past president of the Assembly of Episcopal Healthcare Chaplains, and an associate of the Order of the Holy Cross, he keeps the blog Episcopal Chaplain at the Bedside.

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