Every religion in every age has experienced an uneasy truce between the university and the local congregation, between theology and the pastorate. Seventh-day Adventism is no exception. In some respects, the meeting of church theologians and administrators last summer at Glacier View, Colorado, was a tacit admission of this problem. In this article I wish to examine some of the reasons for this tension and suggest steps that might establish cooperation between these two vital communities within the church.
When I speak about theology, I refer to the plethora of diverse questions, concerns, and disciplines that shape the beliefs and practices of the church. On occasion the term theologian will be used instead. The term pastorate refers to the entire life of the congregation, with its rich diversity, as well as church administrative structures. From time to time, I may substitute terms such as pastor or laity for pastorate, but I will always have the entire church in mind as a background, no matter what terms I use.
Stereotypes
When I taught religion at the college level, I heard pastors and evangelists remark that the colleges and seminaries get young people who are studying for the ministry so concerned about theological issues they lose their zest to do anything. Theologians were stereotyped as abstract thinkers who gave their students ideas but no passion for the world of action in which people sinned and suffered. Even conference presidents have chided theology teachers for producing interns who want to study but balk at getting their hands ditty fixing the plumbing in the school building.
I attended one meeting in which several theology teachers responded sharply to such criticisms. They asked why young people who were so eager to get into the ministry became disillusioned after onlyone year in the churches. "Could it be," one asked, "that much of what is being asked of these young pastors is irrelevant to true ministry?"
For their part, theologians are critical of the ways in which local congregations live out the gospel and particularly of how some pastors use the Word of God in their ministries. They feel that much of our preaching is un-Biblical, poor in quality, and that the church is starving for the "meat" of the Word. Spiritual malnutrition is everywhere, they charge. Further more, some in the universities wince at the arguments used by some evangelists in their presentation of our beliefs. They feel that such arguments are not sound and that well-informed listeners will reject what they hear without giving it a fair chance.
Interdependence
In spite of such tensions, theology and the pastorate need each other desperately. In some ways, the friction between them is the result of brushing against one another in interdependence. For example, the pastorate needs theology to give it trenchant criticism in the light of the Scriptures and to help point the church in the direction it should go. By its very nature the pastorate is inclined to be conservative. It is the bearer of the tradition, the "conserver" of what has been handed down. Therefore, it can derive the courage to change only from good theology that speaks a clear word from God. By its nature, theology is not as bound to the past as is the pastorate because it is more "critical" (and in that sense more "liberal").
Likewise, theology needs the pastorate not only to test the truth of its insights in the world of action but also to be the soil out of which much theological reflection grows. Theology that arises only out of the classroom cannot serve the church adequately. Dealing with students and focusing on academic problems is a limited and somewhat distorted matrix for defining the theology of the church. That thin slice of experience sandwiched between high school and one's early 20s is important to the church, but it is not all-encompassing. Neither is the daily milieu of the classroom expansive enough to encompass the questions and answers the church must be concerned about.
In some respects theology starts in the abstract and works toward the concrete, while the pastorate starts in the concrete and works toward the abstract. It seems to me that were theology to begin in the concrete whenever it can, it would be more relevant to the pastorate. In recent years the emphasis on "story and theology" as well as the use of the "case study method" in theological education has signaled a new alliance between theology and the pastorate. Questions about ecclesiology, ethics, morality, philosophy, and systematic theology naturally arise out of the life of the church. When people ask about the relationship between "laity" and "clergy," or about the ways in which the church should relate to people who are divorcing and remarrying, or when nonbelievers come and admit that while they enjoy the fellowship of the church, they are struggling with the very existence of God in their spiritual lives, theology is arising out of the pastorate. These same questions are asked in the classroom, to be sure, but they are never asked in precisely the same way, and, as we are all aware, the nature of the question affects the kind of answer one receives. In addition, I must confess that I have found, to my chagrin, that real life is always considerably more complex than my classroom theories allowed and that glib answers sound more plausible behind a lectern than they do behind a pulpit.
Theology flowing from the pastorate would also focus on translating thought into praxis. For example, attempts would be made to turn the theological beauty of the Sabbath into the beauty of the Sabbath experience- A New Testament study of the divorce and remarriage passages would be concerned not only with theology but with how that can be translated into policies that churches can use both to hold its divorced/remarried members accountable and to manifest mercy in harmony with the gospel teaching.
Theology and real life are also joined together in our attempt to interpret the Bible. There is a sense in which one element in the interpretation of the text must be how our present situation encounters that text. Our "living," human experience is a part of our hermeneutic. I cannot simply read a passage in the original languages, understand the necessary con textual and historical background, and automatically assume that I understand what the text is saying to me. I may know now what the original writer intended to say to his readers, but grasping what the writer is saying to me under the guidance of the Holy Spirit is a different matter. I must apply the text to the contemporary situation. Accomplishing that task depends to some extent on the way in which I, as the interpreter, perceive that situation and on the assumptions I inevitably bring to the text—assumptions that are a part of my situation.
A recent example is the question of ordaining women to the ministry. For centuries the church simply could not see through such passages on women as 1 Timothy 2:8-15 and 1 Corinthians 11:2- 15. Because society had so clearly defined the role of women as subservient, we simply never thought there might be a conflict between Galatians' great universal principle that in Christ there is "neither male nor female" and its application in the other Epistles. Our understanding of Scripture on this question was obviously the product of our coming to these texts from the standpoint of our own time. Only when conditions changed were we able to see these passages in a new way.
When the issue came up in the Sligo church of ordaining women merely as local church elders, I was surprised at the theological turn it took right from the beginning. Inasmuch as the General Conference had voted to allow the ordination of women as local elders under certain conditions, I assumed that the members would have few questions about the theological correctness of the idea. To my dismay, a number of members publicly challenged the theology of ordaining women for any position other than deaconess (for which there is no ordination service). To deal properly with such a challenge, the whole congregation had to be exposed to an incredible range of theological reflection including the nature of God, the Creation, the nature of human beings, revelation and redemption, ecclesiology and hermeneutics. Our division on this question as a congregation illustrated an important point: pastors and people must often interpret and apply the Scriptures in the midst of a critical situation for the community. The luxury of indefinite time and suspended judgment is not as available as it is in the classroom. That is why our theological thought must anticipate the problems we shall face and not merely react to them in a crisis.
Development of theology
Historically, Seventh-day Adventist theology has developed rather informally. Positions were preached by evangelists or taught by college teachers and administrators until they became the view of the majority of the membership. All kinds of ideas permeated our literature, some of them contradictory and all of them appearing to possess equal authority. No defined procedure existed to arrive at theological agreement. "New light," as it were, had to become so familiar that it became "old light."
Then Walter Martin, a researcher who was preparing a book on our church, pushed us for more official and precise theological statements. He recognized that our theology was dynamic and had been changing over the years; and so, for the sake of accuracy, he wanted us to make up our minds. He was not interested in the "consensus" view in the field, only in the presently held beliefs of church leadership. For the first time in recent memory, the issue of who would decide Adventist theology had to be addressed. Walter Martin wanted "official" answers. Our problem was that we really did not have "official" positions in all his areas of probing. We could give him only the answers of leading officials who would remain anonymous when the book was published. Thus Questions on Doctrine (the volume that eventually incorporated the answers given Martin) appeared to be an official statement of the church rather than a statement by church officials. Only specialists and experts were consulted. The pastorate as a whole was left out. This has proved to be an unfortunate oversight.
The importance of the pastorate in theological work should never be underestimated simply because most pastors are not technically trained, especially in linguistics. All the disciplines make a contribution to our Biblical understanding. As Bernard Ramm points out: "The best interpreter of Homer and Hesiod is not necessarily the expert in the Greek language; it is the person with specialized background in literature. The expert interpreter of Aristotle and Plato is the philosopher and not necessarily the expert in Greek grammar. The best interpreter of Milton is not the historian of the English language nor is the expert in German grammar the best interpreter of Goethe. Why is it then that in theological education such priority is given to linguistic experts in the interpretation of Scripture?"—"Who Can Best Interpret the Bible?" Eternity, November, 1979, pp. 25-28, 43.
This passage suggests not only that a literary sensitivity is helpful in interpreting the Scriptures but that each church member brings a different life "expertise" to the text. Psychologists, sociologists, anthropologists, artists—all have something to contribute. The reflection of each-member is needed.
Clearly, this would mean that our members must be involved in the process of theological growth from the start; we should all be doing theology. It is another way of affirming the doctrine of the priesthood of all believers. People are hungry for profound study. They want to dig deeply in the Word of God. Were their hunger satisfied in papers full of careful documentation, the appetite for tapes (a poor way to study) might assume its rightful place.
Even now, Adventists outside the English-speaking world are being forced to develop theological understandings in unique milieus. How does one preach the three angels' messages in the People's Republic of China, where the forces of oppression are not primarily religious ones at all? What, if anything, does the gospel have to say to the Third World, racked with hunger and the oppression of the poor? We must address these concerns without losing the distinctiveness of our theology.
Cause of spiritual sterility?
One notion that has contributed to the lack of involvement of the pastorate in theology is the idea of some pastors that studiousness and learning are sure signs of failing spirituality. Only those truly "active" in the Lord's work are doing the work of the gospel ministry. Apparently, Ellen White thought otherwise: "Thou sands of men who minister in the pulpit are lacking in the essential qualities of mind and character because they do not apply themselves to the study of the Scriptures. They are content with a superficial knowledge of God's word, and they prefer to go on losing much in every way rather than to search diligently for the hidden treasure. " Gospel Workers, pp. 249, 250.
It is unfortunate that theology has acquired an ethos associated with the alleged sterility of academia. Pastors tend to regard theology as an area reserved for specialists; general practitioners better stay out. But Seward Hiltner wants the blame for this attitude distributed fairly: "On this matter, the specialists are not innocent. They have, in two ways, intimidated ministers into dissociating themselves as theologians. First, they have taught the various branches of theology so academically in seminaries that the students come to regard all theology as the work only of specialists, and apparently nonministering ones at that. Second, while acknowledging that the ministry is a good place to use theology, they have not admitted that it also involves theological construction, and hence have helped remove from the minister any sense that he is a creative participant in the larger theological enterprise. Thus the minister comes to feel like a salesman who gets his products from the factory by way of the warehouse, but who would answer No to the question about his creative participation in making the product."—Ferment in the Ministry (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1969), p. 158.
Within Adventism, pastors must be encouraged to be more theological. Those who are able to produce creative scholar ship should perceive their ministry as including that scholarship. It is not antithetical to visitation and evangelism. Because pastoring is by its very nature interdisciplinary, pastor/theologians may often see how theology interfaces with the whole of life in ways the academician cannot. But as long as pastors are isolated from theological work, leaving the local pastorate for the classroom will be seen as an elevation in stature. Perhaps it should be noted that pastors who go into the classroom almost never go back to the local parish. The few exceptions have been enticed back by unusual or prominent pulpits that allow them ample time for study.
Some will object to my encouraging pastors to adopt this role, because it has little or nothing to do with "finishing the work." Such objections do not impress me. Some time ago I watched an evangelist prominent in evangelical circles on a nationally televised talk show. As a conservative Christian I was embarrassed. His responses to questions from the audience about various doctrines and the meaning of moral terms were simplistic and naive. The Christian faith came across as narrow-minded, dogmatic, and unable to grapple with profound questions. Similar challenges to the faith are encountered every day by those in the pastorate. God's Word must not sound ambivalent to people who are hoping to hear clarity.
Teachers in our colleges and graduate schools minister in important ways to their students and to the church at large. But they cannot minister to everyone. We pastors must also be teachers of the Word and, in a very real sense, encourage our members to be teachers as well, teachers even of us. Studying, praying, and working together for theological accuracy will produce, I believe, a rich harvest for the work of God in the earth.
