united-methodist-church

Asbury Seminary and the Unmasking of Grievance

As a graduate of Asbury Theological Seminary (1971) and one who served on the United Methodist University Senate for many years (2004-2012) I am all too familiar with the grievance mongering and binary thinking in an article by Dale Coulter in “First Things” journal.

Dale Coulter’s article promises to “unmask” the relationship between Asbury Theological Seminary and the United Methodist Church. Ironically, what remains masked is the much larger story—the shared history, the institutional changes on both sides, and the gradual replacement of missionary imagination with the politics of grievance. The article illustrates what I have come to think of as a binary grievance machine. Every disagreement requires heroes and villains, victims and persecutors, orthodox and apostate. That machine has been in operation for most of my adult life. The history told becomes selective and all nuance or possibility for cooperation disappears.

There is a sad ignorance in this article as to the history of the relationship between Asbury Seminary and Methodism over the years. My father graduated from ATS in 1944 and was required to do an additional year of study at an “approved school.” In his case it was Louisville Presbyterian. Dad spoke of this additional expectation as an important addition to his pastoral ministry and theology – which remained resolutely Evangelical. Serving on the University Senate, I know the efforts made to welcome a fuller relationship between ATS and the UMC during my years as pastor and seminary president.

This is missing from the so-called “unmasking” article. It was always the expectation that for a seminary to be “on the approved list” it should have UMC faculty, even if adjunct, teach the basic courses for ordination. ATS currently is refusing to do this… and they now want special treatment. Also missing in this flawed “unmasking’ is any admission that ATS has been on its own theological journey in recent decades. It has been transitioning toward a neo-Calvinistic theological stance. In my view, this is as much about the societal culture-wars being fought as it is about either institution’s (ATS or UMC) theology, polity, behavior and consistent practices.

There is no mention here of ATS’s loss of accreditation in the early 1950s for the dismissal of FINE Evangelical scholars like Claude Thompson for social reasons: let’s name one clearly – racism. Doug Fitch, one of the early ATS African American students would share with me the bigotry and abuse he faced at the seminary in those years. Racism and what I would call a cultural imperialism has been all too often a bubbling ugliness just beneath the surface. Look at the makeup of the faculty today – I will say no more. Even with all of this, there was a time when ATS struggled to begin to move in a more inclusive way and I value my experience at the seminary in this regard during those years.

So, it has been more than theology. The UMC is not the only institution going through change of institutional life… or in the case of racial equality on Asbury’s part a reluctance to change. When one compares Asbury with the transitions at another Evangelical school like Fuller Theological Seminary, in terms of seeking to welcome all, Asbury has been left in the dust. Asbury increasingly embraced theological and political commitments that many alumni—including me—believe narrowed rather than broadened its historic evangelical vision. It has opened the door to an easy Christian Nationalism and the use of wedge issues to divide, conquer and reduce the influence of Mainline Christianity in the last twenty years.

There is no mention here of the persistent attacks and push toward schism by always painting ATS as the victim, that have been employed by the Institute for Religion and Democracy or groups like the so-called Good News or Confessing Movements. They provided a perpetual set of dichotomies wherein they were the righteous and the United Methodist Church and/or many of its leaders were the truly unfaithful and intolerant ones. It was an impressive slight-of-hand that avoided the many irenic approaches for cooperation.

There is more, but let me end with this observation and question. My pride in ATS and Asbury University upon graduation in 1971 was the critical and imaginative role they played in missions around the world and the work with the underprivileged in this country. A high percentage of missionaries up to the 1950s and 1960s, in Methodism and many other denominations, were Asburians. We were told, “if you are called to be a missionary don’t stoop to be a king.” The likes of E. Stanley Jones, J. Waskam Pickett, James Matthews, Kilbournes, Corbitts, Seamands, Moores, Stewarts, Laws, Eddys and dozens more come to mind. I knew many of them and was privileged to work with some.

This “unmasking” article misses the tragic shift away from mission toward an ecology of cultural, commercial and political success sought after today. Where did that missional impetus disappear? Why is this change “masked” by all the talk of being a victim? Finally, let me ask it this way, the dismantling of much of USAID’s work has already been associated by many humanitarian groups with increased hunger, illness, and preventable deaths for millions around the world. Where is the outcry from today’s Asbury community and leadership? I can guarantee that those names mentioned above, along with thousands of Asbury-trained pastors, university professors, bishops, medical doctors, social workers, nurses and persons who believed in,, and supported Asbury over the decades are, and would be, appalled by this SILENCE.

Also missing is a recognition is that at bottom this is not a binary situation at all. I remember the fear I had as an Asburian that I would not be welcome – but along my long life, I found my fears were wrongly placed. It was not the UMC that sought to limit me, but my own failure to be open to the ways God is at work in both worlds – Asbury and the UMC. Asbury grads CAN still serve in the United Methodist Church. Like my father or me, they may need to do more study. Those who are open to a place of hope and the welcome of others will be surprised by the welcome that the UMC has for persons. All are welcome to this wider place of service. Asbury’s cultural captivity, let me call it the Babylonian captivity, is what is truly being masked. What is masked is the reality of God’s open-hearted and open-minded way of preparing Christian leaders today and for the future.

The deepest Wesleyan question has never been, “Who is right?” It has always been, “How is my love of God and neighbor being perfected in love?” That question is larger than Asbury or the United Methodist Church. It calls both to move beyond fear, beyond grievance, and beyond the divisions that impoverish Christian witness.

Backward Facing, Careful Steps

The Indiana Conference of the United Methodist Church Clergy Session had ended and a childhood memory played across my mind. Perhaps you recall the game often played at picnics, or at elementary school recess. Children would race walking backwards toward a finish line ahead.

I remember some falls and trips and stumbles as I rushed in the opposite direction with backward steps. We were facing where we had been, glancing over the shoulder to make certain we were moving forward, careful not to land on our behinds. Too often my movements proved to be sideways rather than toward my goal.

The Indiana UMC proceedings and language were familiar. Newly ordained clergy were asked to commit to moving forward toward perfection in love. A good thing – Methodism’s understanding of sanctification – being perfected in love.

There were a set of newly determined behavioral standards presented. Thirty-six (36) pages of them! In small print! Coming down to those gathered from some unidentified Mount Saini and without Moses presenting them, they seemed odd and half-baked. The point was made that these “guidelines” were not to be used to police one another, rather these were provided to be clear about “expected personal conduct.”

Later some of us chuckled at this effort to “guide” this group with a document and suggested that 36-pages weren’t enough. Perhaps a 200-page or 300-page document might get closer to capturing our human frailties and failings more fully. Or perhaps there is another way to proceed based more on the Biblical patterns of relationship, narrative, Gospel. This document carried no mention of repentance, restitution or forgiveness. Precious little spoke to communal failings. There was no mention of a failure to visit in the neighborhoods, to offer communion to those in prison or hospital. There was no call to public witness against greed, racism or systemic abuses.

I looked across the sanctuary at St. Luke’s church that was filled with colleagues. Good and fine people they are. I realized that they, like me, were sometimes strong and wise, and often, also, we are “broken people.” I thought of a song by the Cincinnati based folk music band Over-the-Rhine, “All My Favorite People are Broken.” This stanza came to mind:

All my friends are part saint and part sinner
We lean on each other, try to rise above
We are not afraid to admit we are all still beginners
We are all late bloomers when it comes to love

The assembled leaders up on the chancel for this gathering are well intentioned folks and, if honest, they are broken as well. They congratulated one another for service. Okay – it was deserved. Still, old-timers like me recall this was formerly the session when retirees had a couple of minutes to speak. Their brief (and sometimes not so brief) reflections were worth 1,000 pages of behavioral standards. At this session a couple of dozen retiree’s names were read and placed on the screen. No stories from their service were shared. Only seven new elders or deacons were welcomed. Shouldn’t there be some conversation about welcoming more persons into ministry for the future?

Nor was there mention of ways those currently in ministry were seeking to address the gun violence in neighborhoods nearby. There was no mention of the continuing tragedy of an opioid epidemic raging in rural communities, nor a word about the ways the state legislature is engaged in practices that favor the wealthy and disadvantage the poor in education, healthcare, or taxation. There was nothing in the 36-page document calling for pastoral attention to these matters.

The few mentions of the recent decision by the General Conference of the United Methodist Church to remove harmful language excluding LGBTQI persons were offered in a defensive context like backward facing, careful steps! Is it truly a welcoming of ALL in membership and ministry if made only in a backward facing defensive mode? The point was made that “traditionalists” are welcome. That is important, crucial, understandable. Who might be left out in this affirmation? Are persons who are pushing the limits of our current understandings of church and ministry also welcome? What of those who want to do more than talk about justice? Those who challenge the status quo?

I understand the fear, the need to control. I know my temptations to “slow walk” a witness in times of controversy. Thank-you-gifts were shared among those up front who were completing a term of service. Glad. Good people they; they have been faithful and careful in clergy evaluation and ordination. Still, it is strange this is called a “conference” and no conferring is done. The agenda is top-down, pre-arranged, cautious, from some cookie-cutter paradigm designed for control. We left with no story told about ministry in our urban and rural settings. No new story to tell. Looking across the room I thought of the remarkable gifts shared by these pastoral leaders in their communities. There was so much to celebrate since last assembled. One can hardly move quickly or effectively to offer a transforming message of the Gospel while walking backwards, in the hope of forward motion.