Church and Academy [2]

The Problem with Prescriptions

One of my beloved fellow congregants told me last week that she had read my initial article on church and academy. I said, “Oh, what did you think?” She replied, “I was waiting for you to say what we’re supposed to do.” Or something to that effect.

Fair enough! Though I can’t help but hear, “Be practical.” The irony is not lost on me.

I intend to continue the series, which will inevitably include some advice on how to move forward. But let me make an observation at this stage: theoretical descriptions often require far less courage than practical prescriptions. I confess that my personal preference for theory is often about just that. “Here is what I see” does not carry the same ethical weight as “Here is what you should do.” I am gun-shy about telling people what they should do. I would much rather make the case about what they should understand in order to decide for themselves what to do.

That said, there are some other major factors that commend caution about prescriptions. The first is context. I use this word broadly to refer to the exigent factors that truly practical decisions must address. I would, for example, be happy to make recommendations to my local church but not to some other church in a different situation. And I’m far less eager to blast a sweeping set of prescriptions into the ether on this platform. It matters who is part of a congregation, what they collectively think and feel about scholarship, which scholars or institutions they know and trust, and what their capacity for implementing a given recommendation might be.

The second factor is relationship. By this I mean both trust and presence. Without trust, recommendations fall on deaf ears (which fact academics often fail to appreciate). Without presence, those who recommend practical solutions cannot understand their ramifications for the local church, much less perceive how to adapt unintended consequences.

I mention these concerns because they are a key feature of the historical alienation of church and academy. Think of phrases commonly uttered: “They’re off in their ivory tower.” “That sounds good, but what does it have to do with us?” “We have to deal with realities on the ground.” Others will, no doubt, come to mind. These challenges must not be dismissed in the interest of hasty problem-solving because every solution runs up against them.

Alright, enough throat clearing. I’m writing with my sister Lauren in mind. She’s patiently waiting for an answer. I’ll list some broad practical recommendations and unpack them in subsequent posts.

1. Establish a baseline. The theological academy exists in large part to train ministers for ministry. The vast majority of bachelor’s and master’s students of theology do not pursue a career as scholars. They are, instead, meant to serve congregations with a basic (or advanced) appreciation for and use of scholarly resources. Churches that hire ministers without this formation should expect disinterest in scholarly resources at a basic level of leadership. Well-educated ministers are not meant to be resident scholars—indeed, they usually cannot—but they can bring both a higher level of familiarity with scholarly concerns and a commitment to rely on scholarship. Without this bridge, churches suffer.

2. Talk openly about the problem. Challenge the assumption that scholarly input is unnecessary. Chip away at the cultural status quo by admitting that the church without her intellectual leaders is not supposed to know how to answer every question—or even which questions really need answers.

3. Raise the standard of discussion by reading more together. Varying education levels make this practice a challenge, but in my experience in US American churches, commitment is the bigger issue. Address it directly, and foster commitment. Form habits, and reiterate the reason for them.

4. Acknowledge that, because of the rift between church and academy, the spiritual gifts of knowledge and teaching often reside outside the local congregation. Resist the kind of spiritualization that asserts divine revelation or guidance in isolation from the functioning of these alienated gifts.

5. Recognize the gifts of knowledge and teaching that reside locally, and nurture them. Encourage, sponsor, and support those congregants who are most apt to do the work of bringing scholarship to bear in the local community.

6. As often as possible, use scholarly resources. In every area of the country, there are scholars who are willing to help local churches personally. Inviting them should become a standard practice, especially when churches are tackling difficult questions. Other kinds of resources abound (books, websites, podcasts, online education), but it is not easy to sort through them and decide which are relevant or trustworthy. Here as well, it’s important to communicate with trustworthy scholars who can make recommendations. This is usually a free but overlooked service that churches should rely on.

Again, which of these seems especially helpful or challenging will vary from congregation to congregation. But they all point in the same direction: figure out how to bring the scholarship that is available into the life of the church. Doing so will likely require creativity and persistence, especially if you’re not working with a big budget for consultants or an established expectation among congregants. The question of whether it’s even necessary to rely on scholars can continually preempt addressing who and how. That is an issue of culture change that takes time, experimentation, processing, and celebration.