The Crisis of Theological Education

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The information revolution that began in the twentieth century and that is taking new forms in the twenty-first, such as the rise of dataism in which worth is assessed in terms of huge aggregations of information, is having a significant effect on the entire educational enterprise, theological education included. Indeed, the digitization of information, beyond the physical limitations imposed by geography, the locations of libraries and actual books, has not only expanded the reach of many seminaries, giving them a truly global imprint, but it has also led to novel methods for the delivery of theological education, some of which may offer handsome and refreshing opportunities. In order to assess properly what challenges the church faces today in this rapidly changing environment, especially in terms of the delivery of theological education, it will be helpful to gain a rich historical perspective that will cast considerable light on how theological education was viewed in the past, but also on its best prospects today. 

In the first-century church there was not the distinction between clergy and laity that we have grown accustomed to today. All members of the church, those who would take up the responsibilities of a local church and those who would not, would receive exactly the same education in the form of catechesis. This intentional period of instruction, which often lasted two years, was not limited simply to learning doctrine, the basic teachings of the church, but it also included moral instruction and hoped-for transformation, as well as an introduction to the liturgical practices of the church.  Catechumens who would eventually take up the duties of a pastor later on would receive the very practical education that the pastoral setting provided, but their education, and it bears repeating, did not differ at all from others in the church. Simply put, catechesis was for everyone simply because the goals of theological education were the same for all: the inculcation of the knowledge and love of God manifested in Jesus Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit, fostering a transformation of being that would result in contagious witness.

Some shifts in theological education began to emerge during the Middle Ages with the ongoing life of well-established monasteries, with their focused educational vision,  and with the rise of cathedral schools. These cathedral schools began with the training of clergy but eventually took up the role of educating the sons of the nobility in order to prepare them for leadership roles in society, whether in church or state. The success of the cathedral schools was one of the many factors that led to the rise of the European medieval university, first at Bologna, late in the eleventh century, and afterwards elsewhere. 

At the University of Wittenberg during the sixteenth century, Martin Luther realized that theological education was becoming increasingly restricted, that is, channeled largely along class lines, such that the poor were being neglected. In light of this, he took up the task of catechesis once more, the ancient practice of the church, by producing both a large and small catechism meant for both adults and children—in other words, for everyone in the church. The Large Catechism, for example, offered the basics of the faith in a law and gospel framework as evidenced by the book’s following sections: The Ten Commandments, the Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, Baptism and Holy Communion.  

Given the challenges that Western Christianity faced during the Reformation of the sixteenth century, it was remarkably enough Roman Catholicism, not Protestantism, specifically the Council of Trent, that created the first seminary. “It was decreed,” as Justo Gonzalez has pointed out in his engaging work, The History of Theological Education, “that each diocese should provide for the training of diocesan clergy by establishing ‘seminaries’” (p. 120). Protestants quickly followed suit. In such a setting those who were training for ministry would be given a distinct and carefully prepared theological education that was not being offered to others in the church. In fact, the origin of the word “seminary” indicates that this was to be a very special environment, indeed.  Derived from the Latin word seminarium, which means a “plant nursery,” a seminary was to be a carefully controlled setting, similar to a greenhouse, in which ideal conditions would be in play (free of weeds and flush with sun, water and nutrients, for example) that would result in—so it was hoped—uncanny and prodigious moral, theological, and even liturgical growth, and all of this in order to prepare seminarians for suitable transplantation afterwards in a rough-and-tumble world. 

In the eighteenth century John Wesley and the early Methodists likewise took up the challenge of catechesis very seriously. To illustrate, after he had consulted the works of two French authors, Claude Fleury and Pierre Poiret, Wesley produced his own catechism in 1745 with the publication of his Instructions for Children, a work that went through several printings. After a description of the basics of the faith—such as the doctrine of God, the goodness of creation, the fall, and the necessity of redemption—the work explored the relationship between God and the soul in considerable detail, what Wesley called “inward religion,” and then laid out in a straightforward fashion the enormous value of discipline in the wake of various unruly childish desires. 

In terms of American Methodism, both Francis Asbury and Thomas Coke urged those preachers under their leadership to employ a catechism in their ministries and to take special care for the instruction of children. Indeed, American Methodists got behind the Sunday School movement, which saw its beginnings in 1780 back in England under the leadership of the philanthropist, Robert Raikes. In 1786, for example, Thomas Crenshaw, a Virginia Methodist, led the first Sunday School in America. What worked well in England could also take place on American soil. Naturally, the task of catechizing was recommended in the Discipline of the Methodist Episcopal Church, an institution that would eventually break up into northern and southern bodies in 1844. Even after the split, however, the emphasis on catechesis in both churches continued apace well into the twentieth century when, for whatever reason, it abruptly stopped: first in the Methodist Episcopal Church in 1928,  and a few years later in 1934 in the Methodist Episcopal Church, South. This cessation was actually a double blow for American Methodism: first in terms of the children, second in terms of the adults who were no longer engaged in this vital ministry of passing on a precious tradition to youth. Twentieth-century Methodists had clearly dropped the ball.

In the twenty-first century, many American churches now have a history of the production of catechisms, the employment of Sunday schools and small groups, as well as the institution of confirmation classes, especially among those traditions that baptize infants. And when this is added to the challenge of educating clergy for the complex tasks of ordained ministry, in terms of whatever form that will take, a problematic picture quickly emerges: Christian education, on the one hand, is now distinguished from theological education, on the other hand; the one is informal, the other is not; the one is for laity, the other by and large is for Christian professionals, whether or not they will be ordained. Gonzalez expresses the difficulties left in the wake of the professionalization of theological education in the following way: “We have developed an entire system of theological education quite apart from Christian education, with the inevitable result that the laity comes to think of biblical and theological studies as a matter for specialists” (p. 173).  

To be sure, several Christian educators today have now come to the conclusion that the contemporary church is for the most part failing in the task of serious theological and biblical education for the laity in a way that the early church did not. What church today, for example, is committed to two years of concentrated study for all of its laity that embraces doctrine, ethics, and liturgy? What church today is committed to the vigorous manner in which the early church took up the challenge of a robust catechesis? New members classes, small groups, and even confirmation classes (which today can mean almost anything, from work projects to the inculcation of someone’s particular politics) are not teaching its members how to think theologically and biblically, across both testaments, and in a way that can meet the challenges not only of an increasingly complex world but also of a cultural environment that is now often hostile to the Christian faith. Again, what church today is teaching its members the inordinate power and the ongoing usefulness of the biblical narrative, in all of its depth and richness, for confronting the challenges of the human condition, itself, over the course of life’s journey in an increasingly complex world? Things have gotten so out of whack here that Gonzalez has called it nothing less than a “crisis” (p. 173). I agree. 

But there is hope. Precisely because many laity are embedded in local networks of jobs and family that are situated in geographical locations far removed from the halls of formal theological education, seminary communities and schools of theology must reach out to these believers in new and helpful ways. One of the more important consequences of the information revolution is that it can now empower Christian theological institutions to become a “go to” academy instead of simply being a “come to” one. In other words, the instruments for the delivery of theological education today are various, ranging from one-week intensives, to online and even hybrid courses, the last of which mixes both the intensive and online formats. Beyond this, many theological schools are now willing to send their faculty to diverse locations all across North America, and even around the world, fully embracing the opportunities of the “go to” format.  

With the challenges being faced today in terms of the prospect of serious Christian discipleship, and coupled with promising technological shifts, laity can now be encouraged to take up the mantle of biblical and theological education specifically in the form, for example, of a five-course program that will result in the awarding of a well-deserved certificate. As a result of such initiatives, a new and much-needed conversation will emerge between laity and the faculty of Christian educational institutions that will not only fortify the church in strengthening Christian identity and purpose, but it will also equip laity in new and engaging ways. Theological education has always been more important than to be limited simply to clergy and to other professional Christian workers. Theological education rightfully belongs to the entire church—to the whole body of Christ—as the early church so clearly recognized. It is nothing less than the gift that we receive ourselves, through the grace of God, for the blessing and edification of others. 

Kenneth J. Collins is Professor of Historical Theology and Wesley Studies at Asbury Theological Seminary in Wilmore, KY, and a member of the Firebrand editorial board.