Vocation and Avocation

Vocation literally means "calling," though we colloquially use the term to describe what we do for a living, which I'm pretty sure for most people is a far cry from what they really want to be doing, or what they believe God wants them to be doing. Avocation, strangely, would seem to literally mean "non-calling," though to most of us, our avocation--the thing we really want to be doing, and enjoy doing--is much more likely what we are "called" to do in this world.

As I struggle with what educational or career moves to make to escape the boring and thoroughly unstimulating thing I do for a living now, I have been thinking about these terms in both their literal and colloquial meanings. What should I do for a living? What am I called to do? What do I want to spend my time doing? Ideally, these would all be the same, though I know plenty of people make themselves happy by focusing their energy and sense of purpose and well-being on things they do outside of work.

Allow me to analyze the vocation options I've been considering, simply for the sake of getting it out in writing. (If you were hoping for more philosophical musings, you can stop reading now. This post is purely selfish.)

As I said in my last post, I would love to teach religion to high schoolers. Why? It would satisfy my desire to read and discuss topics in religion and culture, and to influence the next generation concerning the importance of such matters. On the other hand, I've learned in my year and a half in the "real world" that I'm not a big fan of being at the mercy of a pre-set schedule. Being a high school teacher definitely does not afford the freedom of control over my own life that I so desire, and that will become even more important when I have children. Though I feel chained to my isolating, fluorescent-lit cubicle now, I probably have more freedom in my current position (in market research for a religious company) than I would as a teacher. My current position affords me the opportunity to study religious trends, which is important to me, and yet I am still unhappy here.

My current job is theoretically a viable option, if I could really make something of this position. I am planning to start a new church-trends newsletter in January that will use my religious education, and also help the company, I hope. Nevertheless, I want to escape this cavern and get an office near a window ASAP, and earn the opportunity to work on my own schedule or in a location of my choosing.

Professorship is something I have long considered, and feel really would be a good fit for me. It affords the same intellectual stimulation and opportunity for influence as at the high school level, but with much more freedom of schedule. (Two classes a day plus one office hour? Sure beats 8 hours in front of a computer!) I can see myself with my laptop or a stack of papers to grade, sitting at the campus coffee shop, chatting with students as they pass by... It's a beautiful image, and not entirely out of the question. The problem is simply the fact that I do not want to go back to Vanderbilt right now (or perhaps anywhere) and trudge my way through the intimidating level of competition one too often finds in groups of young academics. Let's put that one on the back burner.

Being an editor of religious books also sounds very appealing to me. It offers the scholarly environment I crave, while also using some of my primary talents--grammar, rewriting, and attention to detail. The main challenge here is that such positions are rare. I check the job listings on our company intranet every day to see if one has opened, and there must be ten sales or financial positions listed for every creative job that appears. This is my goal for the moment, now, though, and while I feel qualified for such a job (if one would just open up!), perhaps there are things I could do to make myself even more highly marketable. The step I have tentatively decided to take is to pursue a program in graphic design, in order to learn the technical skills I need to professionally do what I enjoy as an amateur now. If I must stay in my current position for another year, hopefully the creative outlet I find in these evening classes will motivate me to find/invent work to occupy my days. If I find an editing position, the design techniques I learn should only enhance my layout and typography skills.

Sounds like a plan, Stan. (Unless I change my mind... again.)

What should they know?

I haven't posted in a while, both because I have been busy (getting married a month ago--yay!) and because I haven't been thinking very many deep thoughts, outside of my own fearful lament that I don't know what to do with my life. The passion I felt in the months right after my Divinity School graduation, the drive to return for a Ph.D. in religion, has fizzled, killed by my feelings of annoyance with the egotystical and overly-competitive academic community. (Thank goodness I audited a class this term--it washed the rose-colored haze off of academia.) Not that I wouldn't still love to be a professor, to help mold young minds to think more critically about issues of religion and culture, but for the moment, at least, I am not willing to put up with the B.S. and constant feelings of inadequacy that I would have to endure to pursue a Ph.D.

I've contemplated pursuing higher degrees in history, rather than religion, taking classes in graphic design, starting my own papercrafting company, and looking for better jobs in the business world. I have days where there are glimmers of excitement around one or more of these ideas, while overall, I just feel blase about work in general, but one thing that sounds (possibly) more appealing than the rest, is teaching religion in high schools. This is constitutional, even in public schools, though public schools are more wary, for obvious reasons. (Some public schools do offer such electives, however.) Parochial schools, of course, offer religion classes of the sacred sort, sometimes to the exclusion of critical reflection on the subject. Independent private schools seem to be the major market for this service, so I think about marketing myself to such schools, but I worry--with no educational experience, and with a subject that many schools shy away from anyway--could anyone be convinced to hire me? Before I even tackle that challenge, though, the question I should really think about is: What would I teach high schoolers about religion? What should they know?

The overall goal of such education is to broaden students' understanding of the world around them, and to help them view and analyze religion as a cultural component like art, politics, entertainment, etc., only with even more power to affect human behavior than those other elements. Religion is, of course, also useful in history and english classes, when one understands the narratives, themes, worldview-shaping doctrines and collective memories of various religious groups. I would want to expose students to the religious texts and major doctrines and histories of the major world religions. We would discuss the major components of religion as a concept (sacred text, ritual, boundaries, etc.), and the differences between cults, sects, and religions. We would talk about the psychology and sociology of religion. The students could analyze data from religious polls, like I do in my current job, and watch for trends in religious perspectives and biases evident in the vocabulary of both survey and respondent. We could read books and view movies that have brought religion into mainstream culture, like Left Behind, The DaVinci Code, etc. We could look at the impact of religion in politics, particularly the last presidential election, and look at the use of religious rhetoric in political arguments. I would give them a paper assignment to analyze how religion affected an incident in history, or how it influences the sides of a political or social debate.

Yeah. That could be really great. Yes, it could challenge the faith of some students, and the comfort-level of their parents, but it would also open their minds, and make them more discerning individuals. It would show them that religion is relevant to practically every part of human existance, and is not something relegated to Sunday School or tiny enclaves of "religious fanatics" (as a classmate of mine in high school used to refer to anyone who was even mildly religious). Maybe I could build relationships with students and engage them in real dialogue. Maybe I could get them thinking in a way that could transform their entire lives. Maybe I could convince someone to give me that opportunity.

Qualified to Lead, part 2

Now almost finished with the (rather boring) book I mentioned in the last post, I’ve been thinking more on the issue of the “qualifications” it takes to serve a church or preach the gospel “properly.” I use parentheses there because those are obviously subjective terms that possibly should not even be applied to spiritual matters.

Who could possibly be unqualified to ponder the mysterious ways of God? We all observe nature and experience love—things that cannot help but turn our eyes heavenward. We all read and hear things that others assert about God and life, and weigh those things against our own thoughts, considering the options and coming up with our own theories. (And yes, we do all do that, even if some people’s conclusions end up looking a lot like what was on FoxNews or what Pastor JimBob said.) Is preaching more than just passing on those thoughts and theories publicly?

The revivals of the early 19th century frontier fed off of random, self-appointed preachers. Some people heard a sermon, had a religious experience, and felt inspired to hop up on a stump and preach themselves, all in the same day! They spoke of what they knew—their own experience of God’s love and power to change lives. Others, of course, were free to hop up on their own stumps and contradict what had just been said, but the revival being such an experience-based environment as it was, the point was not who had the “real truth” about God, but that people had been transformed.

I don’t mean to imply that the “real truth” about God is not important. While I don’t believe anyone can come to a complete understanding of God in this life (or perhaps even in the next), I do believe we can all strive to know and understand more and more, growing closer to God in the process. That is the point—not that one knows the Truth and passes it along, but that all are trying to gain a better understanding as time goes on. There is something about the free discussion of ideas and individual understandings of God that was crucial during those revivals that seems to have become secondary in the modern church. As I concluded in the last post, the role of pastor/preacher is to educate the people on theological matters only to the extent that the people can take that proposition as a jumping off point for their own consideration. Many churches today (and throughout history, I am quite sure) use the pulpit as a platform from which to “tell ‘em how it is,” straightforward, no questions asked; but even in those churches where open-minded, reflective pastors aim to inspire reflection among their congregants, there is little or no public discussion of various laypersons’ ideas and experiences of God.

Perhaps more people would be transformed by preaching nowadays if congregations made it a priority to get up on our treestumps (or sofa cushions) and tell each other what we’ve been thinking about God recently. That’s something for which we are all qualified.

Qualified to Lead

Now that I've finished a few books that were on my personal to-read list, I am diving into Prof. Kathleen Flake's "American Religion Ph.D. Must-Read List." Essentially, the literature in which she believes any doctoral candidate in American Religion must be proficient. First up, Nathan Hatch's The Democratization of American Christianity. I'm familiar with his analysis (not a unique one) that religion in America took on a populist character, in keeping with the democracy guiding it politically. He begins by discussing the debate between Yale- and Harvard-educated theologians/ministers and the illiterate field preachers that were popping up all over the place in the early 19th century.

The elites and the commoners make similar arguments to what one might hear today between liberal divinity school graduates and those who attended Bible colleges, or between long-suffering, hoop-jumping United Methodist candidates for ordination, and young Baptists who were ordained at eighteen with no formal theological training whatsoever.

I definitely agree with Hatch's analysis, in that the freedom to determine for oneself what one believes, and the sufficiency of enthusiasm to empower one to preach is a thoroughly American concept, but I'm not sure where I come down on the issue in practical, modern-day terms.

Raised in the Disciples of Christ tradition (one of Hatch's major examples in this book), I vehemently reject creeds, as well as the notion that ordained clergy have special authority when it comes to administering sacraments like baptism and communion. (In the Disciples church, any baptized person can perform these sacraments.) On the other hand, I have a high-quality theological education, and firmly believe that historical-critical knowledge of the Bible, and objective analysis of religious history make my fellow scholars and I particularly qualified to teach and lead others in matters of religion. I feel that my academic studies have led me to a better understanding of God, and as a result, a deeper relationship with God. Does this make me more qualified, then, to provide leadership to a congregation, than I was when I was "merely" a baptized Christian, without theological education? Should all believers have equal authority and ability to proclaim the gospel (in both word and deed)? Or should academic training be a must for all those preaching from a position of authority?

I believe firmly in my right to accept or reject doctrines based on my own conscience and reason, and also in my capacity to share the blessings available to me as a Christian with others (in the form of sacraments). Leadership of a congregation, however, requires more than a sound mind and a giving heart--it requires the ability to spur other minds to their own understanding of the Gospel. Any faithful person could stand up and tell others what he or she believes about God, and listeners may either agree or disagree. A well-educated pastor, however, can tell others what many various schools of thought have believed, and ask the right questions of his or her listeners, in order to lead them to their own understanding of God. This is true spiritual leadership.