Saturday, March 22, 1997
Those who hear call to ministry later in life
gladly trade in old careers
By Mark I. Pinsky
The Orlando Sentinel
Deborah Hanson remembers the moment her life was changed. She
was in her late 30s, a single mother of a teenage daughter, doing
marketing for a family printing business in Minnesota.
"The call came," she said, "and it came suddenly:
'Go. Study. Be a pastor. Now.' "
Ever since Jesus called two fishermen on the sea of Galilee
to put down their nets and become "fishers of men,"
people have been leaving more lucrative careers to join the ministry.
For some, this has meant returning to an early interest in
ministry they never pursued. For others, it is an outgrowth of
extensive volunteer work at church.
But a common theme among second-career pastors is finding meaning
that has been missing from their lives. And it is a phenomenon
occurring throughout the country.
Nearly half the people who have entered seminaries in North
America over the past decade are older than 35. Although anecdotal
indications suggest this trend may have leveled off in the past
few years, communities around the country are beginning to feel
the impact as these new, middle-aged graduates begin stepping
into pulpits.
Those graduates include Hanson, 43, the new pastor at Atonement
Lutheran Church in Orlando, Fla.
"I was very strongly called to go to seminary," she
said.
Four years later, Hanson has more than $50,000 in student loans
to repay and a new profession. She says she will be lucky to pay
off the debt by the time she reaches retirement age.
"Some people might not consider it a good career move,"
she said. "It's more of a gamble."
Hanson attended Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minn., the largest
seminary operated by the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America,
a mainline denomination with 5 million members. This school year,
half the student body is older than 35.
In the fall of 1995, more than 40 percent of the people studying
for the most common pastor degree - master of divinity - in North
America were older than 35, according to the Association of Theological
Schools in Pittsburgh. This represents a rise of several percentage
points since the fall of 1991, according to the organization,
which accredits 232 Protestant, Catholic and Orthodox seminaries.
Nearly 40 percent of second-career students in these seminaries
are women. Like Hanson, many have grown children or are not married.
While Hanson's denomination has ordained women for more than two
decades, other Christian faiths have opened their ranks to female
clergy more recently. Thus, women in their late 30s and 40s have
opportunities not available to them when they graduated from college.
Hanson sees her age as a greater asset to her ministry at Atonement
Lutheran, a congregation of about 100 people, than her gender.
When providing pastoral care, she said, "You look at your
life. Everything that has happened helps prepare you for what
you are today."
Some second-career ministers report that, while their income
levels tend to drop sharply, so does their stress level.
"I am more at peace with myself now that I am truly serving
God the way God wanted me to serve," said the Rev. Tim Daly,
41, a recently ordained priest at St. John Vianney Catholic Church
in Orlando.
"I'm much happier," said Daly, a former University
of Central Florida professor. "I feel that joy every day."
Job satisfaction makes up for the sacrifice, second-career
ministers say. The Rev. Anthony Hanna gave up a career as an audio-visual
consultant in California to head St. Mary & Archangel Coptic
Orthodox Church of Central Florida.
"One hour before the altar, saying the Mass, is worth
the whole world," the 39-year-old priest said.
Scott Pryor agrees that the career change is worth the effort.
The 42-year-old attorney gave up his practice in Milwaukee
and moved with his wife and three children to attend Reformed
Theological Seminary in Maitland, Fla. His goal is to teach at
a law school where he can combine Christian ethics and values
with his instruction.
"Things came to a point at last that I believed God was
leading me to seminary," Pryor said. "I had reached
a plateau at work. While I continued to enjoy law, there was a
more demanding calling in my life."
The move to Florida and seminary was "tough," he
said, requiring considerable adjustment. In order to support his
family, Pryor does part-time legal work, and his wife has returned
to work.
Because of their relatively late start, second-career seminary
graduates often begin in specialized ministries: as hospital or
prison chaplains, or as associate pastors of larger churches,
frequently for youth or music activities. Those who do take congregational
pulpits start at smaller, rural churches. Not all second-career
ministers come from the private sector. In fact, some have military
backgrounds.
Reformed Theological Seminary student David Temples, 33, had
an early attraction to the ministry. "Even as young child
I felt I would be a preacher when I grew up."
But Temples accepted an ROTC scholarship to the University
of Florida and joined the Marine Corps after graduation.
He heard the call while serving in northern Iraq just after
the Gulf War. In a tent that served as a makeshift church, Temples
found himself thinking, "I love what I'm doing, but I'm not
happy."
Temples took "a step of faith" and resigned his commission
in order to attend seminary, and he has no second thoughts about
his decision. "I'm happy and I enjoy what I'm doing."
(c) 1997, The Orlando Sentinel (Fla.).
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