Caltech of Christianity
Oct. 1st, 2009 05:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dedalus_1947“So,” Kathy asked, looking up from the newspaper she was scanning. “What are you thinking of doing, now that you’ve decided not to go to Mexico?”
Actually, I’m not sure she framed the question quite so bluntly. It was probably more subtly phrased. But, there was no question that in deciding to forgo my Retirement-Sabbatical (see A Retirement-Sabbatical and Mavourneen) to Mexico for a semester, I was leaving a gaping whole in my academic plans for the year. Kathy was obviously curious of how I would fill it, and she was not prone to avoid asking.
“I’m not sure,” I answered, putting down my own section of the newspaper for a moment. “Classes at the University of Morelia offered a real challenging change of direction, and a thorough immersion into Spanish. I’m not really interested in continuing my undergraduate studies in Mexican History, or my post-graduate work in Latin American Studies. I’m looking for something new and different”.
“Well,” she brainstormed for me, “have you thought of taking some writing workshops or English or American lit classes? There must be plenty of classes at the nearby junior colleges or CSUN”.
“None of those subjects interest me,” I said, giving Kathy my complete attention. “I don’t need workshops to write anymore, and I prefer reading what I find interesting, not an English professor. But,” I admitted, “I have been thinking of a whole new area of study.”
“What is it?” Kathy asked breathlessly, searching my face for telltale clues.
“You may think this is crazy,” I began, “but I’ve been thinking of taking some theological and biblical studies classes.”
“Really?” she exclaimed, sitting back in the couch, absorbing the significance of my announcement. “Well there are plenty of programs,” she volunteered, quickly shifting gears to be a supportive advisor. “Some of the nearby parishes offer good bible study classes, and Holy Spirit Retreat House is publicizing its fall classes. There are plenty of places you could go.”
“Actually” I intervened softly, “I was thinking of programs a little more structured and rigorous. I’ve been considering registering as an auditor at a religious college or university.”
“Really?” she exclaimed again, putting the newspaper down. “You know,” she added, “I can see how that type of program might intrigue you. Mount St. Mary’s College has a strong Theology Department and, of course, the Jesuits at Loyola Marymount University have an excellent program, too.”
“I was thinking of another school,” I said hesitatingly, leaving the sentence unfinished.
“Which school?” she asked, curiously.
“Fuller Seminary in Pasadena,” I announced quietly, looking steadily at Kathy’s face for hints of approval or disappointment.
“Really,” she announced loudly, looking at me in wonder. “A nice Catholic boy like you! What made you think of Fuller?”
I discovered Fuller Theological Seminary one Saturday morning back in the 90’s, when Kathy and I walked onto its campus, while exploring Mid-central Pasadena. Kathy had won a door prize for a weekend stay at the Doubletree (now Westin) Pasadena Hotel on Los Robles Avenue, and we were taking advantage of the getaway opportunity to spend some time alone. That morning we took a walking trip of the nearby environs and visited the shops, stores, and museums along Los Robles, Colorado Boulevard, and Oakdale Avenue. It was while circling back to the hotel that we came upon Fuller. I’d heard of this evangelical Protestant seminary from time to time, but always assumed it was located somewhere near the monumental Lake Avenue Church complex that towered over the 210 Freeway. The subdued and serene grounds of Fuller caught me by surprise. An ivy-covered entrance to a Prayer Garden sat in cool juxtaposition across from a tall, gleaming, modernistic graduate library of steel and glass. In bemused amazement, we walked along the shaded walkways, through well-tended lawns, inspecting the Victorian-style homes that had been converted into offices and dormitories, and the traditional stucco buildings containing classrooms and auditoriums. Slender palms and wide shade trees cast a leafy tarp over the open area between the cement structures and wooden houses. The grounds reminded me of the downtown campus of Mount St. Mary’s College on Chester Place. Anchored by the Doheny Mansion, an ornate, Victorian, historical landmark, the Roman Catholic estate was my first exposure to a academic setting that typified the Greek ideal of “collegiums”; garden-like places where philosophers and scholars gathered to sit, read, mediate, discuss, and learn. Now, at Fuller, I’d found another such setting, only it was Protestant. When we came to the visible boundary of the campus on Walnut Street and Oakland Avenue, we spied the Fuller Bookstore. Unable to resist, Kathy and I walked inside to inspect the store and its offerings.
I’ve been in many quality university bookstores throughout the United States and Mexico, but I’d never been in one deliberately organized to reunite the divided studies of Philosophy and Theology into one body of academic and religious study. Sciences, Arts, and Departments divide all universities and college bookstores, but the Fuller Store was different. Walking through the rows and stacks of books, I could only see names of professors, followed by the course number and name, and all the required and recommended readings. The course titles were new and exotic for me: Hebrew, Greek, Akkadian, New Testament, Old Testament, Medieval and Reformation History, Christian Spirituality, Philosophy of Religion, Family Therapy and Pastoral Counseling, Conflicts and Conciliation. All of these courses, with their required readings sought to achieve a trinity Vision – finding enlightenment, happiness, and God; but the books did not appear slanted toward any overtly, fundamentalist views. I knew Fuller to be an Evangelical Protestant seminary, so I assumed that its bookstore would reflect a conservative and fundamentalist curriculum and bias. I was wrong. The classes seemed remarkably progressive, interesting, and challenging. Catholic authors and writers were also abundantly represented (“Oh yeah,” I said to myself, “we were ONE Church before the Reformation!”) and I walked away very impressed with the bookstore, the campus, and the seminary.
Last week I met with Norma, an academic counselor, to review the course offerings for the Fall Quarter at Fuller Theological Seminary. In July I registered as an auditor, which allowed me to pay a reduced fee (usually half the enrollment cost) to attend one or more classes at the seminary. I would receive no credit for class, or work towards any degree or certificate. This is different from Continuation Courses, which are separate and apart from the regular college or seminary. An auditor attends the same class as full time students and is exposed to the regular teaching staff. They are also expected to do the same reading, write the same papers and reports, and take the same tests and final as students – without receiving a grade (or credit). After inspecting the available classes I chose Old Testament (OT) 502: Hebrew Prophets. Feeling very satisfied with myself, I retraced the steps I took in 1992 and made my way to the campus bookstore, carrying an empty backpack.
I’ve always felt a rush of excitement when buying books for school. Even in high school, I loved walking out of a bookstore, carrying a stack of thick and heavy textbooks, and dying to get home to begin reading them. In the Fuller bookstore, I found a paper sign reading, Scalise, P: OT 502 – Hebrew Prophets, and my eyes opened wide as I saw the piles of books arrayed under it. Six books were required for the class, and another six were recommended. Looking at the size and cost of each book and estimating the total, I decided to save the recommended readings for another time and concentrate on what was mandatory. I stacked up the books, paid for them at the counter, and then walked over to the café in the rear to review their contents. The big, expensive, hardbound textbook was Life in Biblical Israel, by King and Stager. Four paperback books followed: Isaiah by Goldingay, Theology of the Prophetic Books – The Death and Resurrection of Israel by Gowan, Whispering the Word – Hearing Women’s Stories in the Old Testament by Lapsley, and From Promise to Exile – The Former Prophets by Tate. A NRSV (New Revised Standard Version) or TNIV (Today’s New International Version) Bible was also required, but I was so intimidated by the mysterious initials, I decided to confer with a religion teacher friend before purchasing one. On the whole, the class bibliography thrilled me. I knew nothing about Hebrew prophets, except for their names in Old Testament bible stories. In the next ten weeks (beginning October 9, for ten meetings on various Friday and Saturday mornings), I would read about and learn of these ancient saints, holy men, and avatars of early Judaism who sought to teach their nation how to know, love, and serve Yahweh. It would be an exciting fall quarter.
So, why did I choose Fuller? I think four factors influenced me. My first impression of the campus and bookstore was very positive and reassuring. I felt comfortable on the grounds and easily visualized myself sitting in classes, buying books, and studying in the library. When I questioned Catholic educators and hierarchical administrators I trusted about the protestant seminary, they didn’t panic, or think me crazy. My friends, a religion teacher at an archdiocesan high school, and a bishop of a northern California city, spoke well of the school, its teachers, and its multi-denominational reputation. The bishop even admitted having taught classes there, and encouraged me to attend. The history of Fuller confirmed my personal impressions and academic testimonials. Over the summer I learned from Wikipedia that Fuller Theological was the largest multi-denominational seminary in the world, with over 4300 students in over 67 countries and 108 denominations. Fuller’s diverse student body and ecumenical persuasion are among its chief strengths. Charles E. Fuller, a well-known radio evangelist, founded the school in 1947 (the year of my birth). It was the first academic institution to be founded by the neo-evangelical movement, with the vision of reforming fundamentalism from its anti-intellectual and socially isolationist stance of the 1920-40 era. The early founders envisaged a seminary that would be “the Caltech of Christian scholarship”. However, the original theological and socially conservative views of the faculty began changing to more progressive (liberal) thinking in the 1960’s and 70’s. Since then, Fuller has gone through significant transformation and is influential today as a progressive institution with a strong commitment to scholarship and the training of Christian leaders, as well as to social justice and mission. It is frequently at the center of debate among religious and secular intellectuals on issues ranging from politics, religion, science and culture. It seeks to be “the voice of a third way that flows out of biblical values, instead of buying into the political ideology of either the right or the left”. My final reason for attending a protestant seminary was to confront and overcome my irrational, Catholic fear of OTHER religions, especially Protestant denominations.
As a Catholic school child of the 1950’s, I was raised in an academic and religious environment in which there was only one, TRUE Church, and it had a Pope in Rome, cardinals in cities, bishops in dioceses, and priests in parish churches. To be Roman Catholic in America of the 50’s was to believe that we were a persecuted religious minority, surrounded by self-righteous Protestants, wily pagans (Jews, Moslems, Buddhists, and Hindus), and subversive atheists (Communists and Socialists). Our greatest comfort was in knowing that eternal salvation was ONLY possible through OUR Church, and none other. So we were told (by many of our nun teachers and parents, but not all), that we should tolerate the prejudices, beliefs, and discriminations of others, because WE were going to Heaven and they were not. Yet, at the same time, we were also warned to be vigilant and alert, because we could be tempted, seduced, and corrupted by the false beliefs and teachings of these OTHER religions. That environment of persecution and fear did not engender a lot of curiosity about other religions and beliefs. It was better to be safe in the Church, than adventurous outside it. My religious training consisted of memorizing the Baltimore Catechism (a list of proscribed questions and answers about EVERYTHING one needed to know as a Roman Catholic), and receiving as many of the 7 official Sacraments of the Church as possible. This meant receiving Baptism, Eucharist, Reconciliation, and Confirmation as children, remaining free from sexual temptation until Marriage, and then accepting the Anointing of the Sick on our deathbed. If we were really holy, we might forgo matrimony and receive the sacrament of Ordination as a priest. Our religious life, therefore, was one of isolation and indifference to other religious ideas and practices. Life was pretty simple as a child in the 50’s, one knew what was evil and what was good; but then the 60’s came along with Pope John the 23rd and the Second Vatican Council, and everything changed.
The best thing that happened to me in a Catholic high school was being exposed to the world of so many mediocre male teachers, both priest and lay. I only had female teachers in grammar school, and most of them were nuns in the severe, black habits with long rosaries. These sisters were strict and stern taskmasters who commanded obedience with looks, gestures, and frowns. They were determined to drill the Catholic dogma and academic curriculum into our heads. Male teachers and priests, on the other hand, seemed determined to be our buddies, guides, and advisors. I think they all secretly wanted to be college professors, but didn’t realize that adolescent boys were not yet college seminar material. Although my religion teachers were now priests, who were supposed to have all the answers, we quickly realized that they lacked the classroom discipline, pedagogical expertise, and religious creativity to make the subject matter interesting and meaningful to hormonal teenagers. Through the elementary catechism, the nuns taught us the rules and procedures of the Church, but the priests could not explain what purpose they served and why they were important. My father offered the most liberating advice when I expressed my religious disillusionments at the dinner table. He said that the world was filled with many well intentioned, but mediocre teachers and priests. It would be my responsibility in life to seek and find, religious wisdom and truth. He challenged me to go beyond the limitations of my teachers and priests; to read more, study more, and learn more about religion than they could teach. He believed that God wanted every human being to seek, find, and love Him, but how we achieved this goal was up to us. There were many paths to God, he told me, and the Church, through its restricted catechism, rules, and laws, offered a safe one. Perhaps the priests who were teaching me religion were describing this well-trodden path, because they lacked the confidence or creative insight to discuss the alternative routes in the Church and in other religions.
“Do you mean the priests and the Church could be wrong about how to get to Heaven?” I finally asked him, synthesizing all he had said into that question.
“They’re not wrong. I think they offer ONE way to get there. It’s the safest way. Being in the Church, obeying the laws, and following the rules will get you to Heaven. But there are other ways. There are other religions, other churches, and a world of non-Catholics who are on different journeys to enlightenment and God. We are all searching for the same God. You don’t have to follow the safest path, but you do need to take responsibility for your choices. Learn all you can, seek the truth, and make good and compassionate choices.”
I think my mother was a little unnerved at the twist the conversation had taken. She knew the priests at my school, and the conservative, Spanish order from which they came. She preferred the safely marked and laid-out roadmap of the Church and its priests, and talk of other religions and alternative routes to God, guided by conscience, made her uneasy. She conceded the truth to my father’s words but insisted that obeying the Church and its priests was still the best strategy.
Vatican II ended in December of 1965, my senior year in high school, but I did not see or understand its ramifications until I saw the changes in the Liturgy of the Mass and heard them explained by the Paulist priests at the Newman Center of UCLA. Vatican II not only “opened the windows to the Church” but it also opened the spiritual cartographer’s library of routes to God. For the first time I saw and heard beyond the Catechism of my youth. I clearly understood the priest’s words in Liturgy of the Mass, and walked out with new awareness from the thoughtful and insightful homilies about the “Good News” that Jesus proclaimed about the “Kingdom of God”. I learned that the Catholic Church was not the EXCLUSIVE path to eternal salvation, that Jesus was a faithful and observant Jew, and that Martin Luther was RIGHT about many, many things. For the first time in my life I entered a Protestant Lutheran Church to hear a mass celebrated by a Catholic priest, and a Jewish synagogue to celebrate a Passover meal on Holy Thursday. On both occasions I walked in warily and uneasily, imagining I could still hear the dire warnings of my mother and teachers about the seductions of other religions. I’ve never lost that whispered uncertainty. Through the years I’ve taken courses in Comparative Religions and explored the readings and practices of Buddhism, Sufi Islam, and Judaism. These three major religious paths have clarified and extended my own understanding and practice of spirituality, prayer, and meditation. However, Protestant Christianity is probably my greatest area of intellectual neglect, and I’m most curious about it. Fuller offers a safe avenue through which to learn more. It has a strong academic reputation with a tradition of open, progressive, and quality scholarship. I thought it was time to explore the paths of my Christian brothers.
Actually, I’m not sure she framed the question quite so bluntly. It was probably more subtly phrased. But, there was no question that in deciding to forgo my Retirement-Sabbatical (see A Retirement-Sabbatical and Mavourneen) to Mexico for a semester, I was leaving a gaping whole in my academic plans for the year. Kathy was obviously curious of how I would fill it, and she was not prone to avoid asking.
“I’m not sure,” I answered, putting down my own section of the newspaper for a moment. “Classes at the University of Morelia offered a real challenging change of direction, and a thorough immersion into Spanish. I’m not really interested in continuing my undergraduate studies in Mexican History, or my post-graduate work in Latin American Studies. I’m looking for something new and different”.
“Well,” she brainstormed for me, “have you thought of taking some writing workshops or English or American lit classes? There must be plenty of classes at the nearby junior colleges or CSUN”.
“None of those subjects interest me,” I said, giving Kathy my complete attention. “I don’t need workshops to write anymore, and I prefer reading what I find interesting, not an English professor. But,” I admitted, “I have been thinking of a whole new area of study.”
“What is it?” Kathy asked breathlessly, searching my face for telltale clues.
“You may think this is crazy,” I began, “but I’ve been thinking of taking some theological and biblical studies classes.”
“Really?” she exclaimed, sitting back in the couch, absorbing the significance of my announcement. “Well there are plenty of programs,” she volunteered, quickly shifting gears to be a supportive advisor. “Some of the nearby parishes offer good bible study classes, and Holy Spirit Retreat House is publicizing its fall classes. There are plenty of places you could go.”
“Actually” I intervened softly, “I was thinking of programs a little more structured and rigorous. I’ve been considering registering as an auditor at a religious college or university.”
“Really?” she exclaimed again, putting the newspaper down. “You know,” she added, “I can see how that type of program might intrigue you. Mount St. Mary’s College has a strong Theology Department and, of course, the Jesuits at Loyola Marymount University have an excellent program, too.”
“I was thinking of another school,” I said hesitatingly, leaving the sentence unfinished.
“Which school?” she asked, curiously.
“Fuller Seminary in Pasadena,” I announced quietly, looking steadily at Kathy’s face for hints of approval or disappointment.
“Really,” she announced loudly, looking at me in wonder. “A nice Catholic boy like you! What made you think of Fuller?”
I discovered Fuller Theological Seminary one Saturday morning back in the 90’s, when Kathy and I walked onto its campus, while exploring Mid-central Pasadena. Kathy had won a door prize for a weekend stay at the Doubletree (now Westin) Pasadena Hotel on Los Robles Avenue, and we were taking advantage of the getaway opportunity to spend some time alone. That morning we took a walking trip of the nearby environs and visited the shops, stores, and museums along Los Robles, Colorado Boulevard, and Oakdale Avenue. It was while circling back to the hotel that we came upon Fuller. I’d heard of this evangelical Protestant seminary from time to time, but always assumed it was located somewhere near the monumental Lake Avenue Church complex that towered over the 210 Freeway. The subdued and serene grounds of Fuller caught me by surprise. An ivy-covered entrance to a Prayer Garden sat in cool juxtaposition across from a tall, gleaming, modernistic graduate library of steel and glass. In bemused amazement, we walked along the shaded walkways, through well-tended lawns, inspecting the Victorian-style homes that had been converted into offices and dormitories, and the traditional stucco buildings containing classrooms and auditoriums. Slender palms and wide shade trees cast a leafy tarp over the open area between the cement structures and wooden houses. The grounds reminded me of the downtown campus of Mount St. Mary’s College on Chester Place. Anchored by the Doheny Mansion, an ornate, Victorian, historical landmark, the Roman Catholic estate was my first exposure to a academic setting that typified the Greek ideal of “collegiums”; garden-like places where philosophers and scholars gathered to sit, read, mediate, discuss, and learn. Now, at Fuller, I’d found another such setting, only it was Protestant. When we came to the visible boundary of the campus on Walnut Street and Oakland Avenue, we spied the Fuller Bookstore. Unable to resist, Kathy and I walked inside to inspect the store and its offerings.
I’ve been in many quality university bookstores throughout the United States and Mexico, but I’d never been in one deliberately organized to reunite the divided studies of Philosophy and Theology into one body of academic and religious study. Sciences, Arts, and Departments divide all universities and college bookstores, but the Fuller Store was different. Walking through the rows and stacks of books, I could only see names of professors, followed by the course number and name, and all the required and recommended readings. The course titles were new and exotic for me: Hebrew, Greek, Akkadian, New Testament, Old Testament, Medieval and Reformation History, Christian Spirituality, Philosophy of Religion, Family Therapy and Pastoral Counseling, Conflicts and Conciliation. All of these courses, with their required readings sought to achieve a trinity Vision – finding enlightenment, happiness, and God; but the books did not appear slanted toward any overtly, fundamentalist views. I knew Fuller to be an Evangelical Protestant seminary, so I assumed that its bookstore would reflect a conservative and fundamentalist curriculum and bias. I was wrong. The classes seemed remarkably progressive, interesting, and challenging. Catholic authors and writers were also abundantly represented (“Oh yeah,” I said to myself, “we were ONE Church before the Reformation!”) and I walked away very impressed with the bookstore, the campus, and the seminary.
Last week I met with Norma, an academic counselor, to review the course offerings for the Fall Quarter at Fuller Theological Seminary. In July I registered as an auditor, which allowed me to pay a reduced fee (usually half the enrollment cost) to attend one or more classes at the seminary. I would receive no credit for class, or work towards any degree or certificate. This is different from Continuation Courses, which are separate and apart from the regular college or seminary. An auditor attends the same class as full time students and is exposed to the regular teaching staff. They are also expected to do the same reading, write the same papers and reports, and take the same tests and final as students – without receiving a grade (or credit). After inspecting the available classes I chose Old Testament (OT) 502: Hebrew Prophets. Feeling very satisfied with myself, I retraced the steps I took in 1992 and made my way to the campus bookstore, carrying an empty backpack.
I’ve always felt a rush of excitement when buying books for school. Even in high school, I loved walking out of a bookstore, carrying a stack of thick and heavy textbooks, and dying to get home to begin reading them. In the Fuller bookstore, I found a paper sign reading, Scalise, P: OT 502 – Hebrew Prophets, and my eyes opened wide as I saw the piles of books arrayed under it. Six books were required for the class, and another six were recommended. Looking at the size and cost of each book and estimating the total, I decided to save the recommended readings for another time and concentrate on what was mandatory. I stacked up the books, paid for them at the counter, and then walked over to the café in the rear to review their contents. The big, expensive, hardbound textbook was Life in Biblical Israel, by King and Stager. Four paperback books followed: Isaiah by Goldingay, Theology of the Prophetic Books – The Death and Resurrection of Israel by Gowan, Whispering the Word – Hearing Women’s Stories in the Old Testament by Lapsley, and From Promise to Exile – The Former Prophets by Tate. A NRSV (New Revised Standard Version) or TNIV (Today’s New International Version) Bible was also required, but I was so intimidated by the mysterious initials, I decided to confer with a religion teacher friend before purchasing one. On the whole, the class bibliography thrilled me. I knew nothing about Hebrew prophets, except for their names in Old Testament bible stories. In the next ten weeks (beginning October 9, for ten meetings on various Friday and Saturday mornings), I would read about and learn of these ancient saints, holy men, and avatars of early Judaism who sought to teach their nation how to know, love, and serve Yahweh. It would be an exciting fall quarter.
So, why did I choose Fuller? I think four factors influenced me. My first impression of the campus and bookstore was very positive and reassuring. I felt comfortable on the grounds and easily visualized myself sitting in classes, buying books, and studying in the library. When I questioned Catholic educators and hierarchical administrators I trusted about the protestant seminary, they didn’t panic, or think me crazy. My friends, a religion teacher at an archdiocesan high school, and a bishop of a northern California city, spoke well of the school, its teachers, and its multi-denominational reputation. The bishop even admitted having taught classes there, and encouraged me to attend. The history of Fuller confirmed my personal impressions and academic testimonials. Over the summer I learned from Wikipedia that Fuller Theological was the largest multi-denominational seminary in the world, with over 4300 students in over 67 countries and 108 denominations. Fuller’s diverse student body and ecumenical persuasion are among its chief strengths. Charles E. Fuller, a well-known radio evangelist, founded the school in 1947 (the year of my birth). It was the first academic institution to be founded by the neo-evangelical movement, with the vision of reforming fundamentalism from its anti-intellectual and socially isolationist stance of the 1920-40 era. The early founders envisaged a seminary that would be “the Caltech of Christian scholarship”. However, the original theological and socially conservative views of the faculty began changing to more progressive (liberal) thinking in the 1960’s and 70’s. Since then, Fuller has gone through significant transformation and is influential today as a progressive institution with a strong commitment to scholarship and the training of Christian leaders, as well as to social justice and mission. It is frequently at the center of debate among religious and secular intellectuals on issues ranging from politics, religion, science and culture. It seeks to be “the voice of a third way that flows out of biblical values, instead of buying into the political ideology of either the right or the left”. My final reason for attending a protestant seminary was to confront and overcome my irrational, Catholic fear of OTHER religions, especially Protestant denominations.
As a Catholic school child of the 1950’s, I was raised in an academic and religious environment in which there was only one, TRUE Church, and it had a Pope in Rome, cardinals in cities, bishops in dioceses, and priests in parish churches. To be Roman Catholic in America of the 50’s was to believe that we were a persecuted religious minority, surrounded by self-righteous Protestants, wily pagans (Jews, Moslems, Buddhists, and Hindus), and subversive atheists (Communists and Socialists). Our greatest comfort was in knowing that eternal salvation was ONLY possible through OUR Church, and none other. So we were told (by many of our nun teachers and parents, but not all), that we should tolerate the prejudices, beliefs, and discriminations of others, because WE were going to Heaven and they were not. Yet, at the same time, we were also warned to be vigilant and alert, because we could be tempted, seduced, and corrupted by the false beliefs and teachings of these OTHER religions. That environment of persecution and fear did not engender a lot of curiosity about other religions and beliefs. It was better to be safe in the Church, than adventurous outside it. My religious training consisted of memorizing the Baltimore Catechism (a list of proscribed questions and answers about EVERYTHING one needed to know as a Roman Catholic), and receiving as many of the 7 official Sacraments of the Church as possible. This meant receiving Baptism, Eucharist, Reconciliation, and Confirmation as children, remaining free from sexual temptation until Marriage, and then accepting the Anointing of the Sick on our deathbed. If we were really holy, we might forgo matrimony and receive the sacrament of Ordination as a priest. Our religious life, therefore, was one of isolation and indifference to other religious ideas and practices. Life was pretty simple as a child in the 50’s, one knew what was evil and what was good; but then the 60’s came along with Pope John the 23rd and the Second Vatican Council, and everything changed.
The best thing that happened to me in a Catholic high school was being exposed to the world of so many mediocre male teachers, both priest and lay. I only had female teachers in grammar school, and most of them were nuns in the severe, black habits with long rosaries. These sisters were strict and stern taskmasters who commanded obedience with looks, gestures, and frowns. They were determined to drill the Catholic dogma and academic curriculum into our heads. Male teachers and priests, on the other hand, seemed determined to be our buddies, guides, and advisors. I think they all secretly wanted to be college professors, but didn’t realize that adolescent boys were not yet college seminar material. Although my religion teachers were now priests, who were supposed to have all the answers, we quickly realized that they lacked the classroom discipline, pedagogical expertise, and religious creativity to make the subject matter interesting and meaningful to hormonal teenagers. Through the elementary catechism, the nuns taught us the rules and procedures of the Church, but the priests could not explain what purpose they served and why they were important. My father offered the most liberating advice when I expressed my religious disillusionments at the dinner table. He said that the world was filled with many well intentioned, but mediocre teachers and priests. It would be my responsibility in life to seek and find, religious wisdom and truth. He challenged me to go beyond the limitations of my teachers and priests; to read more, study more, and learn more about religion than they could teach. He believed that God wanted every human being to seek, find, and love Him, but how we achieved this goal was up to us. There were many paths to God, he told me, and the Church, through its restricted catechism, rules, and laws, offered a safe one. Perhaps the priests who were teaching me religion were describing this well-trodden path, because they lacked the confidence or creative insight to discuss the alternative routes in the Church and in other religions.
“Do you mean the priests and the Church could be wrong about how to get to Heaven?” I finally asked him, synthesizing all he had said into that question.
“They’re not wrong. I think they offer ONE way to get there. It’s the safest way. Being in the Church, obeying the laws, and following the rules will get you to Heaven. But there are other ways. There are other religions, other churches, and a world of non-Catholics who are on different journeys to enlightenment and God. We are all searching for the same God. You don’t have to follow the safest path, but you do need to take responsibility for your choices. Learn all you can, seek the truth, and make good and compassionate choices.”
I think my mother was a little unnerved at the twist the conversation had taken. She knew the priests at my school, and the conservative, Spanish order from which they came. She preferred the safely marked and laid-out roadmap of the Church and its priests, and talk of other religions and alternative routes to God, guided by conscience, made her uneasy. She conceded the truth to my father’s words but insisted that obeying the Church and its priests was still the best strategy.
Vatican II ended in December of 1965, my senior year in high school, but I did not see or understand its ramifications until I saw the changes in the Liturgy of the Mass and heard them explained by the Paulist priests at the Newman Center of UCLA. Vatican II not only “opened the windows to the Church” but it also opened the spiritual cartographer’s library of routes to God. For the first time I saw and heard beyond the Catechism of my youth. I clearly understood the priest’s words in Liturgy of the Mass, and walked out with new awareness from the thoughtful and insightful homilies about the “Good News” that Jesus proclaimed about the “Kingdom of God”. I learned that the Catholic Church was not the EXCLUSIVE path to eternal salvation, that Jesus was a faithful and observant Jew, and that Martin Luther was RIGHT about many, many things. For the first time in my life I entered a Protestant Lutheran Church to hear a mass celebrated by a Catholic priest, and a Jewish synagogue to celebrate a Passover meal on Holy Thursday. On both occasions I walked in warily and uneasily, imagining I could still hear the dire warnings of my mother and teachers about the seductions of other religions. I’ve never lost that whispered uncertainty. Through the years I’ve taken courses in Comparative Religions and explored the readings and practices of Buddhism, Sufi Islam, and Judaism. These three major religious paths have clarified and extended my own understanding and practice of spirituality, prayer, and meditation. However, Protestant Christianity is probably my greatest area of intellectual neglect, and I’m most curious about it. Fuller offers a safe avenue through which to learn more. It has a strong academic reputation with a tradition of open, progressive, and quality scholarship. I thought it was time to explore the paths of my Christian brothers.
Fuller
Date: 2009-10-02 01:28 am (UTC)I think Father Francis Benedict, the former abbot of the Benedictine monastery at Valyermo,is also in a program at Fuller this year. My understanding is he will be living at Assumption in Pasadena and taking classes. I'll check to make sure this is still on, but he was expected this week.
You might find him interesting. He's also proof that a good Catholic boy can go to Fuller.
LA
Re: Fuller
Date: 2009-10-07 05:37 am (UTC)Thanks for the heads up. I'll look for Father Francis when I'm on campus. In the meantime, please do check with him. I'd love to talk and compare notes.
Thanks,
Dedalus
no subject
Date: 2009-10-02 07:09 pm (UTC)TRH
no subject
Date: 2009-10-07 05:41 am (UTC)Thanks for following along.
Dedalus