Saturday, March 15, 1997

Wary of pitfalls, seminarians prepare for their calling

By KEN GARFIELD

Knight-Ridder Newspapers

RICHMOND, Va. - Oh, sure, that course on "Sin and Suffering in the Lesser Known Prophets" is helpful to Union Theological Seminary's 250 students.

But it's probably no more helpful than learning never to be seen getting the paper in your bathrobe by up-at-dawn members of the rural church you've just begun to lead.

Or learning not to panic when a Ku Klux Klan flier appears on the bulletin board, as it did at a Pennsylvania church led by a recent seminary graduate.

Or learning to savor, first and foremost, the privilege of making your ministry matter in the lives of the people you serve.

Today's students master God's word, as I learned while delivering a talk at the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) seminary on how newspapers cover religion. They're also learning to overcome the challenges of sharing it in the real world.

Today's seminary students have lots to fear as they circulate their resumes among search committees.

Seth Weeldreyer, 27, is concerned that a congregation might not be interested enough in theology and scripture - "I hope I won't shut the mind off totally."

After 10 years on college campuses, he also worries about the inconveniences of starting in a small town. "I'm sure there are not stores like Wal-Mart," he said.

Second-career seminarian Tom Waltz, a former corporate executive, wonders who wants to hire a 63-year-old. He also wonders about settling someplace that lacks the arts and a racquetball court. (He regularly whips seminary president Louis Weeks.) Still, he knows God will provide - "You have cable TV no matter where you go."

Marian Carmical of Lumberton, N.C., worries about church politics.

"I've seen examples of church members running all over staff," said Carmical, 38. "I would not want to let someone else's wealth or standing in the church keep me from addressing problems."

Seminary administrator Susan Fox said most worry about pay (some start at $18,000 a year) and social life (singles should never date church members). Women also worry about bumping into the glass ceiling - most offers still stop at associate pastor.

For all of it, Fox urges patience and understanding - the qualities shown by the pastor of the church where the KKK flier appeared. She quietly took it down, then used it as a launching pad to address the pain and bitterness that produced it in the first place.

Before they leave the sanctity of the Victorian Gothic campus, Fox usually gives her students one more piece of gritty advice: "Don't drive a Lexus in Chevy land."

For all their concerns, it was heartening to look into the eyes of ministers-to-be and see the fire burning.

Weeldreyer, headed to a church in Scotland, can't wait to start teaching. Waltz wants to tell Bible stories to kids. Carmical dreams of co-pastoring a church in her native North Carolina with her husband.

Despite the pay, hours and lifestyle, they all await that magical morning when they can stand at the pulpit with their Bibles open, poised to interpret the word of God for the people of the congregation.

At that moment, said Kay Armstrong Sprouse, 25, of Fountain Inn, S.C., inconvenience gives way to inspiration. The job becomes a calling.

"It's a conviction combined with faith that church is a place for sinners," said Sprouse. "That Jesus Christ can change lives. It's a desire to tell other people about that."