Seminary Journal 2008 (August) - Virginia Theological Seminary

The prophet Isaiah acknowledges that
Yes, “the grass withers, the fl ower
fades; surely the people is grass.” All
human offi ces are temporarily inhabited.
All good things must come
to an end. If Martha’s tenure among
us seems much too short, perhaps
that says something about how much
we have enjoyed having her lead us.
Those same 13 years could have been
an eternity in very different hands.
Moreover, Isaiah urges us to take the
long view. What we are to “cry out”
is that the word of our God will stand
forever. God doesn’t faint or grow
weary. Even the youngest seminarians
right out of college will eventually
fall exhausted—not until they’ve
fi nished all their exams and papers,
please—but God’s energy is a renewable
resource. If we wait upon the
Lord, God will renew our strength: we
will mount up with wings like eagles;
we will run and not be weary; we will
walk and not faint.
OK, say the members of the Grasshopper
Committee, and by the way, Dean
Horne, “Well done, thou good and fai--”
Oh, no, wait, that’s a mistake, that was
the text we were not supposed to use
today. Please, just strike that from the
record and we’ll go on.
The members of the Parable Committee
have a different question. They
are worried about the long range
implications of the offi ce of Dean and
President. They’ve heard the Psalmist’s
invitation to listen to God’s teachings
and to incline our ears to God’s words:
“I will open my mouth in a parable and
declare the mysteries of ancient times,”
and they want to know: Is everything I
came here to fi nd going to change, now
that we’re changing Deans?
The Psalmist has an answer for the
members of the Parable Committee:
the most important task of the Seminary
remains what it has always been
and what it will always be: to hold in
sacred trust the wisdom of our ancestors
for the sake of the generations to
come, the children yet unborn. This is
the Seminary’s true endowment: it is
the most valuable thing we possess.
We are but stewards of a tradition that
was in place long before any of us was
born and will be in place long after
the last of us has died. It is “the faith
once delivered to the saints” in the
best sense of that phrase: stories of the
praiseworthy deeds of the Lord, God’s
teachings, and God’s commandments.
This does not mean that we will repeat
verbatim everything that earlier
generations have said on every point.
Our ancestors spoke the word of the
Lord in their generations according
to the light given them. In the same
way, we strive to speak the word of
the Lord in our generation according
to the light given us. Just as we accept
the tradition entrusted to us with joy
and thanksgiving, and read the places
where we think we see blindness with
care and with charity, so we hope that
future generations will receive that
same tradition from us and wisdom
for the task of binding and loosing in
their own day. We hope that our own
blindnesses will be forgiven and that
the children yet unborn will discern
the Word of the Lord that is living and
active, sharper than any two-edged
sword, in the words of Scripture and
in our own words spoken in response.
Subliminal messages in advertising.
An interesting psychological phenomenon,
don’t you agree? Scientists
report that ever increasingly large
numbers of people report the experience
of having a song or a biblical text
suddenly come into their heads for no
apparent reason at all. Usually it’s a
short segment, an advertising jingle,
one phrase of a popular song, a biblical
text of approximately seven words,
like “Well done, thou good and...”
Whoops.
Well, yes, speaking of words spoken,
the Noisy Gong and Clanging Cymbals
Committee wants to know: What
difference does it make anyway who
is Dean and President? Ah, says, Paul,
the character and spiritual maturity
of the Dean makes all the difference
in the world to a seminary. All the actions
that a Dean and President does
routinely can be done so many different
ways. An action can be prompted
by several different motives and no
matter how well things are done—and
things have been done very well here
these last 13 years -- none of that is
worth diddly squat —forgive the
technical exegetical term, I know this
is a learned crowd—none of this is
worth anything at all if it’s not done
from love.
And Paul, being Paul, is not going to
let us slide by with some generic or
vague or romantic understanding of
love. Love is hard work, day after day,
whether you feel like it or not; whether
you think it will make any difference or
not; whether there’s anything in it for
you personally or not. Love comes in
on the weekend to answer e-mail. Love
makes sure it knows who is from what
diocese, who’s the bishop there, what
VTS graduates are serving there, what
lay leaders are holding the Church
together, who’s concerned about what
issue and why. Love makes you feel
important because you know that you
really are important to her.
22 VIRGINIA SEMINARY JOURNAL AUGUST 2007