Trinity Lutheran Seminary : 2005 Seminar
Narrative
ETERNAL LIFE’ IS FINE AS AN ESCHATOLOGICAL PROMISE;
RIGHT NOW WE DON’T HAVE TIME FOR IT!
TRINITY LUTHERAN SEMINARY
November 5, 2004; Faculty time in LeSage Lounge with Dr. Rita Laundis, a candidate for the worship professorship.
It was Dean Wendy Herschede’s job to spot the lull in the conversation when she could ask, “So, Dr. Laundis, you’re here with members of the faculty with whom you would serve if called. Do you have any questions for us?”
“Yes, thank you, Dean, I have three. First, what is it like to carry on your scholarly pursuits here: reading, research, lecturing, and writing?”
A couple of colleagues ticked off a few quick comments:
“It’s possible, but not easy.”
“Who’s got the time?”
“You live for Interim Term and the summer!”
“Yeah, assuming you’re not teaching!”
Greg Wyler said, “There are a few faculty who manage to make the whole research and writing thing work. In less mature moments I secretly wonder what they are getting out of in order to find the time, but overall, we’re glad for them … and glad that they reflect well on the seminary as a whole.”
Professor Miller was sitting with his face in his hands. He sat up, sighed a bit and said, “You know, I’ve got to tell you the truth. Between family, teaching, committee work, and the added burdens of the denominational candidacy process? Good luck finding time to think, let alone get those thoughts down in writing. I’d have to say that after 15 years on the faculty, I am way behind where I thought I’d be when it comes to contributing to my discipline. I’ve kept up with the literature in one or two areas of interest, but I’ve lost my sense of the big picture.”
Kintaro Seiko seconded that, “You’re right, Howard.” Then, turning to Laundis, he went on, “As I told you last night at dinner—and by the way, thanks again for the conversation at the restaurant, last night was the first time in a long time that I’ve enjoyed a second cup of coffee with someone at table … anyway—I’m supposed to be finishing my dissertation while I teach full-time. But it didn’t strike me until too late how hard that would be here. I mean, I have to take responsibility for lack of focused attention to my writing, but I hadn’t even written my comprehensive exams before the administration insisted that I begin teaching! I know that by doing that I helped solve some institutional personnel problems and I am glad to be a team player … but I’m probably too glad.”
“But that’s part of our life here—being pulled by competing loyalties,” Connie Hauer leapt in. “Last spring quarter I had three significant meetings over a period of three weeks. The first was with Dean Herschede when she asked how my book proposal was coming along; she really encouraged me to get back to my research and writing and to give an extra push during the summer. I was so motivated! Second meeting was with a bishop’s assistant asking me to help implement some lay ministry training in my home synod. On the one hand, the preparation for that would synchronize with my research and that’s a good thing. But on the other hand, the actual implementation and training would eat up some of my spring and summer weekends—not so good for writing. Third meeting was with Wendy again when she pleaded with me to accept the president’s offer to supervise a component of our Field Ed program, an administrative position that involves a generous stipend, but no reduction in teaching or committee load. Of course, my fall back had to be to use a major part of that summer for groundwork and planning.”
Herschede responded, “I know that you all receive requests from the judicatories of the denomination; those are beyond my control. But part of the issue from my perspective is that our committee and program structure assumes close to 30 faculty; we’re trying to make it work with barely 20.”
Professor Thomas chimed in, “What makes me sad is that even time spent doing important stuff starts to feel like just punching the clock. I love all the individual parts of my job. The problem is, there are too many of them. For instance, I love grading student papers. But some years the break between quarters is only three days, and even when we get a whole week, we schedule meetings. I’ll admit that part of this is just my adjustment from the four-one-four schedule I came from, but when grading gets pushed aside, my responses to student papers end up being exclamation points in the margin in the general vicinity of a good idea. This is anti-formational! Minimalist marginalia communicates that ‘rushed and overworked’ is okay and that students are pretty much on their own.”
Laundis responded quickly, “Formation, yes! My second question has to do with formation: what is Trinity’s strategy for responding to that need—expressed by both students and the Church—for spirituality and leadership formation?”
Dan Waltham quipped, “That’s easy! We hold a yearly ‘Spiritual Retreat for Busy People.’ The joke is we don’t mean it ironically.”
Professor Elgin added, “Rita, I hope you can hear that we do laugh together about the frenetic pace around here. I think it was Seth who referred to our calendar. I’ve always liked dividing the year into quarters, and many of our students like it because they can take a larger variety of courses. Others find it a challenge. A student last week in my intro course stopped me and said, ‘Professor Elgin, this stuff is all so new! I’m never going to be able to think through it all before break, can we talk about an extension or an incomplete?’ We made an appointment to talk about her course work and she did calm down a bit. But then she added, ‘I have never been wound so tight! If this were a monastery we’d never have time for praying the hours, we’d have to pray the minutes!’”
Herschede stood and pointed to her watch, “Dr. Laundis, I know you have a third question, but it’s ten ‘til ten, and you’re leading Taizé worship right on the hour. Maybe you can ask the students your question—you’ll be right back here with them promptly at 10:30.”
As the meeting broke up, Jack Cartier walked out into the cloister with Waltham and Iona Patek. “One thing that would free up a lot of time is if everyone didn’t feel like they had to be in on every decision. Old Dean Maelzel used to say that our faculty was just small enough to want to be a committee of the whole but just big enough that we could never accommodate the desire.”
“I don’t know, Jack,” Waltham mused, “that’s not still a problem is it?”
Herschede came up behind, overhearing the two, “It is better than it used to be. The tradeoff is this: instead of all of us sitting through the committee and faculty marathons of yore, I get to sift through 10 or 12 e-mails in which colleagues share all the stuff they used to say out loud at the meetings!”
Patek mused, “You know what this seminary needs? It needs a good funeral. (No, Jack, I’m not talking about you … necessarily!) I used to love funerals in the parish—they give you an excuse to clear the calendar for two days and give full and loving attention to just a couple of important things—ultimate things. Lavish time, to think, to feel, to grieve, and to be there—to have a second cup of coffee. We just don’t trust that un-programmed time is faithful time.”
“What would you do with the time, Iona?”
“Oh, I don’t know … talk mostly, I think. Talk to students (assuming I could get them to slow down long enough), visit colleagues and talk informally about visions and long-range hopes, maybe find ways for us to play a bit more together, and certainly take the time to reflect on my vocation and get some clarity about my priorit … Omigosh! We’re late for contemplative prayer!”
ETERNAL LIFE’ IS FINE AS AN ESCHATOLOGICAL PROMISE;
RIGHT NOW WE DON’T HAVE TIME FOR IT!
TRINITY LUTHERAN SEMINARY
November 5, 2004; Faculty time in LeSage Lounge with Dr. Rita Laundis, a candidate for the worship professorship.
It was Dean Wendy Herschede’s job to spot the lull in the conversation when she could ask, “So, Dr. Laundis, you’re here with members of the faculty with whom you would serve if called. Do you have any questions for us?”
“Yes, thank you, Dean, I have three. First, what is it like to carry on your scholarly pursuits here: reading, research, lecturing, and writing?”
A couple of colleagues ticked off a few quick comments:
“It’s possible, but not easy.”
“Who’s got the time?”
“You live for Interim Term and the summer!”
“Yeah, assuming you’re not teaching!”
Greg Wyler said, “There are a few faculty who manage to make the whole research and writing thing work. In less mature moments I secretly wonder what they are getting out of in order to find the time, but overall, we’re glad for them … and glad that they reflect well on the seminary as a whole.”
Professor Miller was sitting with his face in his hands. He sat up, sighed a bit and said, “You know, I’ve got to tell you the truth. Between family, teaching, committee work, and the added burdens of the denominational candidacy process? Good luck finding time to think, let alone get those thoughts down in writing. I’d have to say that after 15 years on the faculty, I am way behind where I thought I’d be when it comes to contributing to my discipline. I’ve kept up with the literature in one or two areas of interest, but I’ve lost my sense of the big picture.”
Kintaro Seiko seconded that, “You’re right, Howard.” Then, turning to Laundis, he went on, “As I told you last night at dinner—and by the way, thanks again for the conversation at the restaurant, last night was the first time in a long time that I’ve enjoyed a second cup of coffee with someone at table … anyway—I’m supposed to be finishing my dissertation while I teach full-time. But it didn’t strike me until too late how hard that would be here. I mean, I have to take responsibility for lack of focused attention to my writing, but I hadn’t even written my comprehensive exams before the administration insisted that I begin teaching! I know that by doing that I helped solve some institutional personnel problems and I am glad to be a team player … but I’m probably too glad.”
“But that’s part of our life here—being pulled by competing loyalties,” Connie Hauer leapt in. “Last spring quarter I had three significant meetings over a period of three weeks. The first was with Dean Herschede when she asked how my book proposal was coming along; she really encouraged me to get back to my research and writing and to give an extra push during the summer. I was so motivated! Second meeting was with a bishop’s assistant asking me to help implement some lay ministry training in my home synod. On the one hand, the preparation for that would synchronize with my research and that’s a good thing. But on the other hand, the actual implementation and training would eat up some of my spring and summer weekends—not so good for writing. Third meeting was with Wendy again when she pleaded with me to accept the president’s offer to supervise a component of our Field Ed program, an administrative position that involves a generous stipend, but no reduction in teaching or committee load. Of course, my fall back had to be to use a major part of that summer for groundwork and planning.”
Herschede responded, “I know that you all receive requests from the judicatories of the denomination; those are beyond my control. But part of the issue from my perspective is that our committee and program structure assumes close to 30 faculty; we’re trying to make it work with barely 20.”
Professor Thomas chimed in, “What makes me sad is that even time spent doing important stuff starts to feel like just punching the clock. I love all the individual parts of my job. The problem is, there are too many of them. For instance, I love grading student papers. But some years the break between quarters is only three days, and even when we get a whole week, we schedule meetings. I’ll admit that part of this is just my adjustment from the four-one-four schedule I came from, but when grading gets pushed aside, my responses to student papers end up being exclamation points in the margin in the general vicinity of a good idea. This is anti-formational! Minimalist marginalia communicates that ‘rushed and overworked’ is okay and that students are pretty much on their own.”
Laundis responded quickly, “Formation, yes! My second question has to do with formation: what is Trinity’s strategy for responding to that need—expressed by both students and the Church—for spirituality and leadership formation?”
Dan Waltham quipped, “That’s easy! We hold a yearly ‘Spiritual Retreat for Busy People.’ The joke is we don’t mean it ironically.”
Professor Elgin added, “Rita, I hope you can hear that we do laugh together about the frenetic pace around here. I think it was Seth who referred to our calendar. I’ve always liked dividing the year into quarters, and many of our students like it because they can take a larger variety of courses. Others find it a challenge. A student last week in my intro course stopped me and said, ‘Professor Elgin, this stuff is all so new! I’m never going to be able to think through it all before break, can we talk about an extension or an incomplete?’ We made an appointment to talk about her course work and she did calm down a bit. But then she added, ‘I have never been wound so tight! If this were a monastery we’d never have time for praying the hours, we’d have to pray the minutes!’”
Herschede stood and pointed to her watch, “Dr. Laundis, I know you have a third question, but it’s ten ‘til ten, and you’re leading Taizé worship right on the hour. Maybe you can ask the students your question—you’ll be right back here with them promptly at 10:30.”
As the meeting broke up, Jack Cartier walked out into the cloister with Waltham and Iona Patek. “One thing that would free up a lot of time is if everyone didn’t feel like they had to be in on every decision. Old Dean Maelzel used to say that our faculty was just small enough to want to be a committee of the whole but just big enough that we could never accommodate the desire.”
“I don’t know, Jack,” Waltham mused, “that’s not still a problem is it?”
Herschede came up behind, overhearing the two, “It is better than it used to be. The tradeoff is this: instead of all of us sitting through the committee and faculty marathons of yore, I get to sift through 10 or 12 e-mails in which colleagues share all the stuff they used to say out loud at the meetings!”
Patek mused, “You know what this seminary needs? It needs a good funeral. (No, Jack, I’m not talking about you … necessarily!) I used to love funerals in the parish—they give you an excuse to clear the calendar for two days and give full and loving attention to just a couple of important things—ultimate things. Lavish time, to think, to feel, to grieve, and to be there—to have a second cup of coffee. We just don’t trust that un-programmed time is faithful time.”
“What would you do with the time, Iona?”
“Oh, I don’t know … talk mostly, I think. Talk to students (assuming I could get them to slow down long enough), visit colleagues and talk informally about visions and long-range hopes, maybe find ways for us to play a bit more together, and certainly take the time to reflect on my vocation and get some clarity about my priorit … Omigosh! We’re late for contemplative prayer!”