SHARING THE HILL AND MAKING FAITH RELEVANT

BY REVEREND NICK CARTER
Photo by Ben Harmon

An asphalt walking path lines the steep slope alongside Herrick Road, carrying students, faculty and staff heading for Hebrew College, Andover Newton Theological School (ANTS) and sometimes, both. No fences segregate the two scholarly communities, and that's by design. Championing initiatives such as the Interreligious Center on Public Life and joint courses on the Book of Ruth, the presidents of Hebrew College and ANTS believe in open borders and cross-campus collaboration.

Since taking the helm of ANTS in July 2004, President Nick Carter has viewed the growing relationship with Hebrew College as a mutual opportunity for self-discovery and reconciliation. And for the pursuit of peace and justice, which he promoted while serving as pastor of the First Baptist Church in Beverly, Mass., for more than 10 years and as executive director of SANE/FREEZE in the late 1980s. In the following essay, Carter describes crossing borders between faiths—including the one along Herrick Road—as an essential part of his efforts to reinvent the training of Protestant ministers at the nation's oldest Protestant graduate school of theology.

Since my arrival here on the Hill last July, David Gordis and I have been in constant communication: more than we had planned, I guess, but of a far higher quality than many might have expected. We have explored everything from parking to verses in the Book of Lamentations (by the way, we've found that the two subjects are easily related). More important, we have begun a rich dialogue on the critical contributions interreligious study, work and life can make in the preparation of a new generation of congregational leaders. The best gift, however, is that we have been blessed with an ever-deepening friendship.

My first contact with the interactions of our two schools came with a visit to a board meeting of the Interreligious Center on Public Life (ICPL). I was impressed with the intelligence and wisdom of those gathered at the table under the able leadership of Rabbi Sandy Seltzer. But of even greater consequence, I was moved by the degree to which this young organization embodied something I think must be an essential part of future theological education. We are just beginning to build something here and there is much work to do, but I am already convinced that it is vital to each school's mission.

It will probably come as no surprise when I say that across the United States, the Christian community is crying out for new leadership. The contemporary American church is polarized to a point that its activity has become an embarrassing diversion from our deeper calling, and those in positions of leadership seem ill-prepared to help overcome these ever-widening divisions. This is perhaps symbolic of something of even greater consequence: Many of the assumptions upon which Christian churches and denominations have been functioning for the last hundred years are no longer relevant.

The old formulas don't work because the world has changed. We live in a time that is far more global and pluralistic than ever before. Countless ministers, most who are able scholars and persons of fine character, are—by their own admission—simply unprepared for the complexities of congregational leadership in the 21st century. Dramatic, speedy and lasting change has become a critical need. Without these changes, many seminary graduates run the risk of being nothing more than institutional hospice workers to terminally ill congregations and fractured denominations.

So it is that we must ask: What insights and skills are essential to prepare and sustain these Third Millennium church leaders? How will we nurture the next generation of spiritual and moral leaders for whom our country and our world are so desperate? I believe that the answer is nothing short of a total transformation of ministry as we know it; and if our churches must be transformed, so too must theological education. It's not a new course or two; it's not a new brochure with some clever marketing lingo: It is a willingness to change the very way we do education and, yes, the way we do business. It is a challenge of breathtaking dimensions.

We have fallen into the misguided practice of belittling and demonizing the "other." In so doing, we make less of ourselves, not more.

I, for one, am foolish enough to believe that we must turn the world of theological education upside down. We need to envision an entirely different future. As Walter Brueggemann says, "Imagination comes before implementation. We can build anything we want. The challenge is what we can imagine."

There are many parts of this vision, but I think none is more needed than a revolution in our sense of community. It can be our most prophetic act. St. Paul talked about community as that family of faith into which all are invited, a family with a remarkable sense of inclusion and hospitality. It is a vision rooted in some of the oldest of our shared traditions. However, I think that too many of us have lost sight of this fundamental insight. Even worse, we have fallen into the misguided practice of belittling and demonizing the "other." In so doing, we make less of ourselves, not more. We narrow our faith, rather than widen it. We destroy within that which we seek to protect from without. In the name of theological purity, we pollute everything around us.

But it has gone beyond pollution, hasn't it? There is a kind of verbal violence that has crept into our public dialogue. We are fast becoming a nation that barks rather than talks. We are great shouters and terrible listeners. Many psychologists would observe that we are demonstrating a high level of insecurity—a fear that is too often born of a lousy self-image and feeds on ignorance.

We need to snap out of it! We must stop doing violence to those who are different from us. We need to stop protecting our ground on the left or the right. Instead, we need to move to a higher ground. We don't need to join the debate as much as we need to change the debate. We need to be world-class border crossers, with the skills to cross these difficult barriers in our lives so we can communicate with, empower and care for those who don't look like us, talk like us or even worship like us. Our seminaries must become laboratories of reconciliation, not boot camps for religious warfare. I believe everyone who steps on our campus should be committed to both teaching and learning the biblical gifts of peace and restorative justice.

That's why I am so excited about Andover Newton's relationship with Hebrew College and the practical application of our faith traditions through things like the Interreligious Center on Public Life. Our students, faculties and trustees are all rolling up their sleeves and learning how to cross borders. In this imaginative engagement, we are each learning more about ourselves and, often, being transformed by it. The truth is that we can't do this in any serious way and not be changed. However, it isn't a case of watering down our faith but strengthening it, because these interactions provide a wonderful means for self-discovery. I know who I am most clearly in my encounter with you, not in my attempts to hide from you or deny your existence.

We need to be world-class border crossers, with the skills to cross these difficult barriers in our lives so we can communicate with, empower and care for those who don't look like us, talk like us or even worship like us.

Another advantage we have is that these are not "once and done" encounters. We are not a tourist variety of border crossers—shake a few hands, share a meal, take some pictures, buy a T-shirt and head home. Because we share this physical space and encounter each other every day, we are forced to find deeper ways of interacting. We aren't mere visitors. Thus, we are far more likely to be shaped and changed by our interactions.

Realistically, though, despite these advantages, it is always possible for someone to be merely polite and tolerant but avoid the engagement our unique situation offers. No doubt this will occur, regardless of what we say or do. For those who choose that option, their education will probably continue, and they may go on to serve a congregation or a community with dedication. But I believe that they will have missed something of great value, something that can give them the ability to make their faith relevant in a turbulent and ever-changing world. It is something that will ultimately determine the difference between those who merely occupy positions of leadership and those who truly lead.

This is, for me, the crux of the matter. There is no greater threat to any expression of faith than that it be deemed irrelevant. These are challenging times. Men and women everywhere are searching for answers to difficult questions, communities are shaking at their foundations, nations are threatened within and without. If our faith cannot help them, if we are not relevant to the things that matter most to them, then we are not only wasting our time, but we are failing to keep the trust of those who have handed down these great traditions and blessings to us.

So it is that I give thanks to those who crafted this relationship. So it is that I have dedicated myself to making the most of what we have been given. I look forward eagerly to each meeting of the ICPL and each encounter with David Gordis. Through these encounters I know that Andover Newton Theological School has one of its best chances to learn how to be relevant. And it is only in this way that we have a chance to transform the world.

This is our shared blessing.

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