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.