18 Aug 2013

The (ir)relevance of academic qualifications

In the process of preparing for to elect a new Archbishop, as well as in the weeks immediately following, there’s been a fair bit of discussion about intellectual prowess, about levels of academic qualification, and about the benefits, or not, of high-level degrees such as doctorates.  At one level, perhaps, this is understandable.  After all, in terms of the two candidates for Archbishop, the level of academic qualification was a clear point of difference: one had done a PhD, the other hadn’t.  Claim and counter-claim were quickly made about the significance of this, and whether or not the candidates were intellectually matched.  Far more important, though, than either of these issues is the underlying assumptions of such discussions. 
What is a proper Christian attitude to academic study, to levels of intellectual prowess, and to the benefits or not of high level degrees such as doctorates?

The positive case

Let’s start with a positive view.  Does not the very nature of God, as well as the very richness and profundity of God’s Word, demand from us nothing less than the very best thinking we are capable of?  I am firmly convinced there are limits in our ability to understand God and his ways.  It’s just a product of God’s God-ness and our creaturely-ness.  Even in heaven, we shouldn’t expect the Creator’s knowledge of all things, for we will still be the creatures. 
And yet as those whom God has redeemed through his Son the Lord Jesus Christ, as those to whom God has revealed himself, as those to whom God has given his Word, should we not devote ourselves completely to growing in our knowledge of Him?  And to understanding his ways?  Should we not meditate on his Word day and night, like the blessed man of Ps 1?  And is this not part of what it means to love God not just with all our heart and all our soul and all our strength, but also with all our mind (Mk 12:30)?
More than that, doesn’t the New Testament’s teaching about the diversity of gifts within God’s people mean that God will have gifted some of us with sharp intellects and fine minds, and that these ought to be used gladly and willingly in service of the body, for the common good, to the glory of God?  Wouldn’t it be strange to come to any other conclusion?
Of course, none of these things, by themselves, mean that we should necessarily develop our mature Christian thinking in the academic sphere, or that we should pursue higher academic qualifications, such as doctorates.  It simply means that each of us, every single one, should strive with all our intellectual might to grow in our knowledge of God our heavenly Father, as we diligently devote ourselves to the study the Scriptures and seek to become more deeply and firmly established in the truth of the glorious gospel of God’s grace.  For some of us, this will certainly involve pursuing higher academic qualifications, and honing our intellectual skills in that sphere.  Even then, though, it should only be in order that we might use our God-given gifts in the service of the body, for the common good, to the glory of God.  Pride or self-promotion is simply never part of the equation.  For many of us, though, it will never mean pursuing higher academic qualifications.  But either way, God always demands our very greatest thinking, and so does his Word.

The negative case

But we sinners find just so many ways of erring in sin.  And even as redeemed sinners, who have come to regard things no longer from a worldly point of view, we are still capable of expressing so much residual worldliness.  At the heart of much of this stands our ongoing struggle with pride.  And this is where we can so quickly go wrong in our attitudes towards high level degrees and intellectual prowess and academics more generally.  Because in a city like Sydney where we have such extraordinary education levels, and in a sub-culture like Sydney Anglicanism where we place such a high value on the study of God’s Word, and in a social context where the Christian voice is increasingly shut out from the public square unless it can try to match the world on an intellectual level, this whole area is one of the quickest ways for us to puff ourselves up and make ourselves feel all very important.  And so we can begin to carry around our little titles.  And we can find ourselves deferring to person with the most letters around their name, simply because they have the most letters around their name.  And it just goes on and on.
I am fortunate at the moment to be doing some study in America.  One of the most clear cultural differences that stands out to me every time I visit the US, is that there is a joyful celebration of the achievement of others, and a glad and willing recognition of the qualifications of others.  It is so much more gracious than the tall-poppy-syndrome that dominates Australian social interractions!
At the same time, though, there seems to me, at least, to be among some of these American brothers a very unhealthy preoccupation with titles, and at times a quite worldly pursuit of higher academic qualifications, as if these will somehow indicate greater ministry prowess.  The course I’m enrolled in is a Doctorate of Ministry.  On both theological and academic grounds, it’s been considerably less rigorous than the Master of Arts in Theology I completed at Moore Theological College. 
I have family members, though, who don’t quite understand the whole Christian ministry scene, excitedly ask whether this means I can soon be called ‘Dr Nathan Walter’.  Personally, I will try to avoid such titles, partly because I think it is only appropriate to use them in very specific contexts, but more than that because in this particular case I don’t think the title is worth comparing to those who’ve done a full-time research and dissertation doctorate.  Others may disagree with that assessment, but that’s how I see things at the moment.
But when I’ve inquired of my fellow D.Min students, it’s amazed me that the majority of those I’ve asked have enthusiastically said that yes, they will allow themselves to be called ‘Dr …’.  This seems to me to be a pride issue, which comes from a desire to self-promote and to appear more qualified than others around us.  Or maybe to appear at least as qualified as them.
The same argument can be made with regard to some who want to pursue a PhD.  Clearly a PhD is appropriate for certain ministries, such as theological education.  But apart from that, is it really that useful?  I’ve often thought about whether I should enrol in a PhD program.  Others have repeatedly asked me the same question.  There’s a part of me that would dearly love to.  I enjoy research.  I enjoy thinking.  I enjoy writing and constructing a macro argument.  Up to this point, though, I have resisted it on the grounds that I think it would be self-indulgent.  After all, no one who is already involved in theological education has ever tapped me on the shoulder and said they thought I should pursue that path.  I don’t want to think of myself more highly than I should in this regard.  And so at the moment, I’m more than content in the parish ministries I am currently involved with.  And I don’t think I need a PhD to keep doing these ministries. 
But I see others involved in the same kinds of parish ministries who are considering a PhD, and my big concern is that the underlying motive in at least some of these situations is pride, and a desire to appear as someone significant, someone to be reckoned with, someone who commands attention simply because of those two letters out the front of their name.
Again, though, remember that we sinners find just so many ways of erring in sin.  And so before those who have higher academic qualifications, or who aspire to higher academic qualifications, jump up to defend themselves, it’s important to say that reverse pride can be just as vain.  It’s not hard to imagine some of us purposefully and proudly disdaining those with higher qualifications, or simply disdaining the higher qualifications themselves.  And we can boast that we don’t have such and such a degree.  Or that whilst that path lay open to us, we chose not follow it.  And we need to get on the public record the fact that it was a matter of choice not inability, or else others may think less of us.  Or others of us, perhaps, can carry a chip on our shoulder, because of the qualifications that we don’t have but others do.  And we feel like opportunities pass us by because we don’t have the same opportunities.  Again, it just goes on and on.  And it’s just as ugly.

Academic qualifications and suitability for ministry

Perhaps the most important issue for us to think through is whether or not higher academic qualifications indicate anything about a person’s suitability for ministry.  The answer is not very much, if anything at all.  To think otherwise is a fool’s game. 
When I was in my final year at Moore Theological College, a few of us floated a suggestion to the rest of our year group.  The suggestion was that when we graduated, rather than presenting graduands in the usual order of the degree they earned, beginning with the pass students, and then progressing from third class honours through to first class honours, why wouldn’t we approach the College to see if we could be presented in alphabetical order, with no verbal reference made to our honours level or anything like that.  The level of honours could still be noted in the program.  After all, if a graduation ceremony is not the appropriate place to note a person’s academic qualifications, what is?  But it really should be an incidental detail, not the focus. 
The amount of angst that this suggestion provoked among some of our year group was both surprising and appalling.  In defence of the idea, some had to speak of how even their secular degree had not anything of a person’s honours level, and yet here we were, about to go out into full time ministry, and we were squabbling about the fact that no one would find out what level of honours we got?  Far more sobering than that, though, is the fact that every year throughout the Diocese, there are some fall out of ministry through ungodliness.  Some of these are the same ones who got first class honours.
The point is that a person’s level of academic qualification is simply irrelevant to their suitability for ministry.  John Woodhouse said it very clearly while I was at College.  He once said: ‘There is a very big gap between the things that College can measure and the things that College can’t measure.  And the things that College can’t measure are nearly always far more important.’  We need to take this seriously.
Think about it for a moment.  If a person has a doctorate, what does that really tell you about their suitability for ministry?  That they are disciplined, hard-working, capable of both critical and independent thought, and highly articulate, at least in writing.  It doesn’t actually validate the theological value of their thinking, just that they can think at a very high level.  To put it another way, that they have a doctorate tells you nothing of their theology.  (Their dissertation may tell you a lot, but the simple fact that they have written one doesn’t tell you anything.)  Apart from the fact that they are generally disciplined and have a good work ethic, it tells you nothing of their personal godliness.  It tells you nothing of their suitability for personal pastoral ministry, or of their leadership of others.  It tells you nothing of their commitment to evangelism, or to serving others.  It simply tells you they’ve got a sharp mind, and they’re willing to use it.
But now consider some of the dangers associated with higher academic degrees.  Academia, almost by its very nature, delights in the ‘new’ – the new theory, the new model, the new understanding.  But the gospel, almost by its very nature, resists the ‘new’ and remains ‘old’.  True Christian faith is always, ‘tell me the old, old story, of Jesus and his love’.  Therefore Christian academics will very rarely come up with something genuinely new.  Their main goal will simply be to help us grow more deeply into the old thing.
More than that, academia, almost by its very nature, is wise by the world’s standards.  Yet in 1 Corinthians 1 the gospel of Christ crucified is utterly foolish by the world’s standards.  And God chooses fools to shame the wise, and the nothings to shame the somethings, and the things that aren’t to shame the things that are.  When the gospel is wise, and when God’s people come from the ranks of the wise and the somethings and the things that are, it’s too easy for pride to get in the way, so that we begin to boast in ourselves rather than in the Lord.  But God’s wants us to boast in the Lord not in ourselves, and so his deliberate and consistent strategy is to overlook the wise in favour of the foolish, and to overlook the somethings in favour of the nothings.  Those of us who are wise, then, in the eyes of the world, ought to be doubly cautious, so that the gospel of God’s grace leads us to humility.

Conclusion

As Christians we ought to sit pretty loose to the things of this world.  Academic qualifications are a thing of this world.  They serve a proper purpose.  But their limits are much greater, especially when we’re thinking about pastoral ministry.  In Acts 6, when the crisis over food distribution threatened the unity of the early church, the apostles decided to have six men appointed for the task.  The requirement: that they be ‘full of the Spirit and wisdom’.  Isn’t that remarkable?  To serve on tables among the people, of God you need to be full of the Spirit and wisdom.  You need to be of sound godly character.  How much more, then, are these the things you need to be a leader of God’s people?  But academic qualifications don’t give you this information.

More than that, with God’s help we must resist all pathways to human pride and vainglory.  There’s no degree in the world that will give us a higher title than the one God has already given us in the gospel.  For once we have become a servant of the Lord Jesus Christ, once we have become a son of God through adoption by grace, the rest just trinkets and baubles.

15 Aug 2013

Good divorce?

‘There are such things as good divorces.’

So said Anne Hollonds, of the Benevolent Society, on yesterday’s Drive program with Richard Glover.  Of course, it’s not too hard to work out what she meant.  There are divorces where the two parties aren’t out for vengeance.  Where they aren’t out to hurt each other.  Where they aren’t out to beat each other.  But where the divorce goes through with mutual respect and concern for the welfare of the other, even though the marriage to that other has come to the point of finishing.And at that level, I guess, there’s a sense in which she’s right.

The moment the words were out of her mouth, though, I found myself thinking of God’s words in Malachi 2:16 – ‘I hate divorce’ (NIV).  And it makes sense that God would say this, given everything else we read about him in the Scriptures.  God is a God who makes, and then keeps his promises.  He tells us to do the same.  God is a God who loves even those who do not deserve it.  In fact, this is the very definition of God’s love – not that we loved him, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for sins, so that whoever trusts in him shall not perish but have eternal life.  He tells us to do the same.  God is a God who remains faithful even when his bride, Israel, is faithless, and prostitutes herself to the nations, and to the gods of the nations.  And so as a living example, he tells the prophet Hosea to go and take for himself an adulteress wife, and to love her just as he has loved faithless Israel.  And when the Lord Jesus was asked about the way Moses permitted divorce in certain circumstances, he reminded those who were listening that it was not this way from the beginning, but that God’s intention was for a man to leave his father and mother and cling to his wife, and the two become one until they are separated by God in death.  Which is what the marriage vows in the Anglican Prayer Book still affirm.

And so, of course, God hates divorce.  It is not the way he works.  It is not the way he wants us to work.  It is not good for us.  But the reality is we live in a world where the effects of sin and selfishness are ever around us.  And this deeply affects even our closest relationships, like marriage.  God’s word testifies to this as much as, if not more than, our experience.

And so divorces will continue to happen.  Especially given the legal ease of such matters in our current setting.  And when they do happen, we should view it as a tragedy.  And as a signpost to the effects of sin in our world, which mean that even a good thing like marriage is utterly beyond us unless God fixes the deep problem of sinful hearts.  And when divorces do take place, the parties involved will need enormous amounts of care and support and love.  And yes, Anne Hollonds is right: when marriages break up, the best outcome is that it will be done without malice or vengeance in the heart.

But there are no such things as good divorces.

11 Aug 2013

A Response to John Dickson's Hearing Her Voice (7 of 7)

Conclusion | Where to from here?

In the conclusion of Hearing Her Voice, John offers a suggestion as to the only way he thinks his broad argument could be invalidated, and then gives three or four possible responses.  
Source: iStockphoto.com
I won't engage with his suggestion about how to invalidate his argument, because I think he wrongly brings together what are actually two separate tasks: showing the faults with his argument and defending the view that he's trying to argue against.  
But what about the three or four possible responses he talks about?  They are:
1.     outright rejection
2.     acceptance of the various speaking activities that the New Testament expects both men and women to be engaged in, along with a fresh decision to give women more of a voice in the church service, inviting them to give ‘talks’
3.     embracing the entire argument, thus opening all sermons to suitable men and women
4.     agreeing that contemporary sermons are not wholly the same as teaching in 1 Tim 2:2, but fearing that they are close enough that to have women give sermons today would be disobedient to 1 Tim 2:2; John seems to accept this possible response, but then taint its validity by associating it with a non-gospel legalism
There will always be different ways to describe people’s responses to a book like this, of course.  It’s interesting, though, that the three main possibilities John suggests are all couched in ways that align the reader into ‘agreement’ with his broad argument.  More than that, they also align the reader into a position of having women preach, whichever words are used to describe this activity.  I simply note that this is fair way on from the goal he identified at the beginning, ‘to invite friends and colleagues to reassess (again) the biblical basis of their own reticence to invite women into the pulpit.’[1] 
But here’s another way of thinking about the different responses people might make to Hearing Her Voice:
1.     some people will agree with it for purely pragmatic reasons.  Some will have been in favour of women preaching for a while, but without having an argument to base it on.  It’s not hard to imagine some of them swinging in behind John and saying, ‘there, that’s my argument’, even though they themselves had never come up with these ideas!  Others will have wanted to have women preach, but not known how to justify it.  Again, it’s not hard to imagine some of them, likewise, swinging in behind John and using Hearing Her Voice as their theological justification.  It is, after all, a much more palatable position to hold.
2.     others will agree with it with good conscience.  That is, they will have tried to work through argument - testing it, weighing it, and ultimately, approving of it.  I don’t think it’s the right conclusion to make, but I’ve no doubt some will make it, and they will do so on the basis of principle
3.     some people will disagree with it for purely reactionary reasons.  In other words, they’ll be sure that it’s wrong, but they won’t be able to explain why they think it’s wrong.  It’s just wrong because it’s wrong, because it’s wrong.  Or it’s wrong because it’s coming from ‘that camp over there’, or something like that.
4.     others will disagree with it on the basis of testing the argument, and finding that it doesn’t work.  Whether or not people think my arguments are sound or persuasive, this is the approach I have tried to take.  I know others who have done, and who continue to do, the same.
It goes without saying (I think!) that we ought to work hard together so that everyone fits into either the second or the fourth category.  The first and the third don't really help anyone.  But if we can land in the second and fourth, then we ought to be able to keep talking about it together, going back to the Scriptures in humility to learn obedience, both together and with God’s help.
In the meantime, though, I think there are some sad but (almost) inevitable consequences of John’s work. 
The most troubling for me is that very quickly among our Sydney Anglican Diocese we may well end up with two streams of churches, two streams of ministers, two streams of staff teams, two streams of congregational expectation ...  One will be in favour of women preaching; the other not.  Again, (almost) inevitably, one group will be endlessly on the front foot and significantly more popular and well received; the other endlessly on the back foot and significantly more unpopular and less well received.  One will sound and look ‘fresh’, ‘relevant’, and sophisticated; the other will sound and look ‘stale’, ‘old-fashioned’, and simple.
Of course, as Christians, we’re not in the game of looking ‘fresh’ and ‘relevant’ and popular or well received.  In and of itself, that's not an argument against John's book.  It’s simply a reminder of something that we all need to take to heart  again and again and again, because our instinct is nearly always to go in the opposite direction.  Our glorious task is to learn the obedience of faith together, so as to bring glory to God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ.
But the problem of developing two streams means it may get harder and harder for some of us to work together, because one group has shifted in its thinking and practice of ministry.  And yet again, (almost) inevitably it will be those who haven’t moved anywhere who cop the criticism of causing disunity!
Only slightly less troubling for me is the fact that this one ministry – preaching – has potentially become the litmus test for whether a church is encouraging a wide variety of speaking ministries from both men and women.  This is a subtle shift that happens towards the end of Hearing Her Voice.  Having rightly argued for a wide variety of speaking ministries being open in the New Testament to both men and women – and John isn’t saying anything new with this; I don’t know anyone who ever seriously disputed it – his concluding challenge is that suitable women ought to now be able to preach sermons.  But hang on.  Isn’t preaching only one form of speaking ministry?
In our church, for example, speaking ministry takes place in all manner of ways, from both men and women, all throughout the week.  And I take seriously my duty of continuing to train and encourage this ministry to keep happening, not just from men, but from women also.  Our whole staff team takes this seriously.  In fact, if I was to stop and write them all down, there are a great more ministries that are open to both men and women than those that aren’t.  Sure, preaching sermons in our Sunday services is one of those that isn’t open to both men and women.  But that is just one 25-minute ministry every week!  Is John seriously suggesting that the task of engaging and encouraging Christian sisters in word ministry can be properly reduced to this one activity?  That we can ‘tick it off the list’ as long as somewhere on that preaching roster we have a woman’s name?  I hope that’s not what he’s suggesting.  The idea is absurd.  And it runs completely counter to the variety of ministries that the New Testament speaks of.





[1] p10.