When I was applying for Ph.D. programs a year or so ago, I received one consistent piece of advice: “Hide your Masters of Divinity.” Downplay those two preaching classes that you took, and let’s just not talk about that course on the Passion Plays. Don’t include that church internship on your resume. And above all don’t tell them that you want to be a minister.
There is something about ministry that many folks in the academy find scary. Perhaps they think I will begin every paper with “The Bible says…,” or start serving communion in the quad.
Ultimately, I ended up phrasing my call to ministry on my applications like this:
“My personality and own faith commitments motivate me to pursue ordination in the United Church of Christ. This goal is very important to me, but I know that it is not enough.”
That was one big lie. My desire to become a minister is enough – it is more than enough. My academic life is not somehow beyond my faith life, it is instead my faith life that surrounds it all. My faith is with me in the library at 2am. My faith rubs my shoulders as I write paper after paper. My intellectual interests will take me far in my Ph.D. to be sure, but my faith will always take me farther.
I do understand how my ways of knowing the world can be threatening to our modern university. The notion that I can know something through faith, simply because God has moved me in one form or another, does not exactly follow the steps of the scientific method. But just because I am a person of faith, does not mean that I cannot also operate effectively in the world of “publish or perish.”
I know that not all faculty and not all campuses would be turned-off by my walk towards ordination. There are many open-minded and supportive faculty out there and many campuses with religious leanings. In fact, one of the things that attracted me to my current Ph.D. program was a third year doctoral student who is also a Catholic priest.
Still, I lied. I want to be taken seriously as a scholar in both faithful and secular circles, and in order to do that I hid a fundamental part of myself. Yes, there are some things I have come to know about the world through faith and an evolving relationship with God, and there are some things I have come to know about the world through reading and sharing in university classrooms. These two ways of learning need not be mutually exclusive. The faith life and academic life can nurture and support each other – and do for so many already.
Yes, I know my M.Div is showing, but don’t worry: I do all my communion serving on my own time.
This photo is of St. Joseph’s Seminary, Upholland is the copyright of Andy Davis and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.
Thank you, Jessica. We are constantly having conversations about these tensions even within a Theology and Practice program where I am studying Homiletics and Liturgics. It is the life of higher ed when you are serving in the “hybrid” of church and academy that is theological ed (see Aleshire’s Earthen Vessels). Best to you!
Thank you for your thoughts Casey! It has been great to hear these issues resonate with so many! Best wishes on your studies, Jess
I’m fascinated, first, that in the USA (a country I see as being suffused with religion and religious privilege) that you were given advice to hid your religious position. Perhaps that shows how different universities in general, and graduate programs in particular, are from US society as a whole!
The most intriguing part of your post, for me, is this:
“I do understand how my ways of knowing the world can be threatening to our modern university. The notion that I can know something through faith, simply because God has moved me in one form or another, does not exactly follow the steps of the scientific method. But just because I am a person of faith, does not mean that I cannot also operate effectively in the world of “publish or perish.””
I think you identify here a key question that people like me, who profess no faith, struggle with when it comes to understanding people of faith. What on earth does it mean to “know something through faith, simply because God has moved me in one form or another”, and can that “knowing” be shown to be epistemically responsible in the way that “knowings” from subject disciplines like mathematics, history, music theory etc. can be shown to be responsible?
If the answer is “yes”, then clearly we’re dealing with something that isn’t particularly special here – just another way of generating knowledge like the other disciplines. If the answer is “no”, it’s hard to see any role at all for this sort of “knowing” in the academy (indeed, it’s hard to see why it should be termed “knowing” at all).
I’d be very interested to hear you elaborate on this!
Hi James,
Thank you for your comments! It is true that in many ways universities are far from the rest of American public life – and in many ways they are very similar…all reasons why I find the relationship between religion and higher education so intriguing.
In terms of what you said about “knowing,” it may be helpful to step back a bit. I think there are lots of ways of “knowing” things. Lots of those ways are ones I suspect you know well – following the scientific method, and all the other ways we come to “know” things in the humanities, social sciences and sciences. The kind of “knowing” that I and many others experience through faith is just one other form of coming to conclusion. These two ways of knowing are often positioned in opposition to one another (and if you look at the history of higher education it will show you some of the history of that – it was certainly not always this way) but they do not need to be.
I think it is also worth noting that there is not one way of knowing something through faith – there are as many ways as there are Christians, Buddhists, etc. For the academy to dismiss these ways of looking at the world, is a big loss. Perhaps more directly: are ways of knowing through faith epistimcally responsible? Well, likely not as we would traditionally understand it, but I would challenge that as a criterion for including a means of understanding the world in the academy.
Universities are filled with a growing number of religiously diverse students (campus religiosity dropped post 1970, but has been rising again for a while) and many faculty as well – if the two are to work together, grow and learn together, than it is important to understand the ways in which each other come to know the world. One is not better or worse, and I think both are worthy of academic study and a place in the academy.
Best Wishes,
Jess
I’m fascinated that a number of people posting here have faced a similar dilemma to yours – I’ve learnt something from this thread!
I suppose the challenge here, then, is to try to understand why universities might take this tack – why might they want to encourage people who have taken an MDiv to take a different type of Masters degree before heading into their doctoral program, or to head to a theological school, or hide their MDiv?
There are a number of possible reasons I can imagine, including simple prejudice against MDiv programs and students (a possibility I am certainly willing to consider as someone with degrees in Education, who has faced some prejudice from certain quarters because of this). But one reason might be that MDiv courses legitimately might not prepare people well for doctoral study.
I am not in a position to make a hugely informed judgment on this question, but I have now taken four courses at the divinity school at Harvard (presumably a good example of the type), all of which can count toward an MDiv, and in my view only one had the required rigor to be helpful in my doctoral study. The other three were supremely valuable, don’t get me wrong – some of the most valuable courses I have taken at Harvard, in fact. But they were not scholarly in the sense I understand the requirements of doctoral study.
Which brings us to the question of how we know things. My suspicion is (and I don’t have a lot of evidence to back it up, but it’s an informed suspicion at least) that one of the things that good universities are concerned about is a certain epistemological purity, in the sense that they want people to produce research that is responsive to the standards of the given discipline of study (and meets those standards minimally). This means, by definition, that some forms of “knowing” are going to be disallowed – they won’t meet the public standards of any given discipline.
So, when you say, of the “ways of knowing through faith” we have been discussing:
“are ways of knowing through faith epistemically responsible? Well, likely not as we would traditionally understand it, but I would challenge that as a criterion for including a means of understanding the world in the academy.”
I think that may precisely be the sort of thing some universities are worried about. Because once epistemic responsibility ceases to be a criterion of acceptance of a method of understanding into the university, literally anything goes – there is no way to ensure any sort of rigor or standards on university work.
In other words, in my view, epistemic responsibility is a sine qua non of the academy, and ways of “knowing” which are not accessible to public verification through methods such as those used in the subject disciplines are probably rightly barred from consideration in universities – this is, indeed. precisely what universities are there to do.
If it is further the case that such ways of “knowing” are promoted in MDiv programs, then it’s possible that the skepticism of universities regarding MDiv students is at least somewhat justified – they represent, potentially, an existential threat to the foundational values of the institution.
This isn’t an idle problem – the potential that students will indeed “begin every paper with “The Bible says…,”” is one that has come to pass, to the horror of some professors (we faced a similar problem recently at the Ed School at Harvard). Further, given the consistent attacks from religious quarters against the teaching of science and history in high school, the increasing phenomenon of religious home-schooling etc., it is not unreasonable to think that there might be good cause for universities to be particularly careful about who they admit.
This having been said, it is critical that universities think deeply about whether the individual they are considering brings valuable experiences to the table which might enrich their school’s culture and intellectual life. Too narrow a set of considerations would certainly keep out people who would offer valuable, perhaps revolutionary insights, and would be detrimental to the health and vigor of the institution.
So, in conclusion (epic reply!), I suppose I think that 1) considering precisely what a person actually did during their MDiv is perfectly legitimate in making admissions decisions; 2) some skepticism might be justified given the nature and goal of universities; and 3) this skepticism should take second place to considerations of the worth of the individual in question.
I appreciate your passion and your candor, Jessica. This academic suspicion toward “[our] ways of knowing the world” has also shocked and saddened me.
As a final-year MDiv student, I am researching doctoral programs. I was SO excited that my amazing alma mater, the University of Texas at Austin, is finally offering a Religious Studies PhD…
but right there on the website was a kindly but firmly written disclaimer that MDivs need not apply. They referred me/us to the “several fine theological schools” in the Austin area and warned that any MDiv wishing to get this PhD would have to apply for their MTS program first. It was so disappointing to discover that in some academic eyes, spending years gaining knowledge specifically linked to one’s own faith and ministerial practice is a detriment to her resume.
We spent much of our Systematic Theology class at Perkins learning how to discuss matters of theology in a logical, academic, not purely “churchly” manner, so that we could be in meaningful dialogue with academics who do not share our faith (or any faith).
I have more to say on this issue, but am currently distracted by the practice of ministry 🙂
Hi Sara,
I looked up the UT Austin program after reading your post and it is unfortunate that they seem to nudge M.Div.s away. It is also interesting to me that though there are many religious students in PhD programs across the country – religious studies programs seem particularly nervous admitting them – especially those that are particularly enthused about their own faith. Personally, I think it is hard to study theology, or religion (your own or another’s) more generally without having experienced it yourself. But I also know that view is controversial.
Best wishes on your last year in your MDiv program and keep focused on the practice of ministry!
Jess
Jessica:
Thanks for this post. It resonates with me tremendously. I started my academic career studying theology and Biblical criticism and switched to politics and policy. I can’t count the times I was ‘advised’ to leave my master’s degree and experience off my ph.d. applications and now my C.V. I am still hesitant about admitting I went to seminary or studied religion. Again, thank you for such a cogent articulation of this problem.
Damien
Thanks for your comments Damien! It has been interesting to read others share their experiences with this.
Thank you again for your comments and best wishes on your studies!
Jess
Thanks for sharing! I understand wholeheartedly!
I just (just!) finished the first complete draft of my PhD statement of purpose. I’m hoping to compare Indo-Tibetan Buddhist and Western political philosophies. So, I faced a dual dilemma: do I admit that I am not only a Buddhist with a MDiv, but also (gasp!) an activist? How will I ever produce objective scholarship?!
Of course, no one ever produces objective scholarship, but modern religious studies departments haven’t yet gotten to the point of actually taking postmodern theory seriously enough to apply it to themselves.
And James: I was a MTS at Harvard and switched to the MDiv. The only difference was that the MDiv required me to take three additional classes (one of which was a Theories and Methods in Religious Studies, a PhD-worthy course if ever there was one), and it required me to take more language courses. So, if anything, the MDiv at Harvard is better preparation for a PhD than the MTS!
“modern religious studies departments haven’t yet gotten to the point of actually taking postmodern theory seriously enough to apply it to themselves.”
There’s hope for them yet, then 😉
I am reminded of one of my favorite quotes:
“if you can’t make a move without support from a French intellectual, put down your Foucault. Take up your Voltaire.”
– de Zengotita
Thanks so much for this post! I FEEL EXACTLY THE SAME – just having a passion for interfaith and religious dialogue while doing a masters in peace studies, it’s hard to even be able to relate to my peers without feeling like I have to hide that interest. I’m beginning a MDiv at HDS in Fall 2014, it’s honestly something I’m looking forward too, but at the same time saying that I’m doing it out loud at times I can also see some people in my current academic environment cringe thinking I’m about to lay down some religious law. What’s more annoying is that the outdated perception that only Christian’s attend divinity school, and not people of other faith. I have a Muslim heritage combined with ministerial experience in a Unitarian Universalist’s church, but I hate to be only perceived for one or the other.
Thanks so much for this post! I FEEL EXACTLY THE SAME – just having a passion for interfaith and religious dialogue while doing a masters in peace studies, it’s hard to even be able to relate to my peers without feeling like I have to hide that interest. I’m beginning a MDiv at HDS in Fall 2014, it’s honestly something I’m looking forward too, but at the same time saying that I’m doing it out loud at times I can also see some people in my current academic environment cringe thinking I’m about to lay down some religious law. What’s more annoying is that the outdated perception that only Christian’s attend divinity school, and not people of other faith. I have a Muslim heritage combined with ministerial experience in a Unitarian Universalist’s church, but I hate to be only perceived for one or the other.
Hello, I am currently an university senior in South Korea and I got to read your posting while I was googling to het some help with my M.Div SOP. I am preparing to apply for a M.Div program in the States. I just wanted to leave a comment because your posting was very inspiring to me. I think your confessions are awesome and when I get to have the same things in my mind in the future, I hope to have a confession as your’s. I just wanted to say this! God bless u 🙂