Reflective Practice: Formation and Supervision in Ministry

Transcription

Website: http://www.reflective-practice.org
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Reflective Practice is printed electronically as an Open Access journal through the Public Knowledge Project (PKP) of Simon Fraser University, Vancouver, British Columbia and with the generous financial support of the following individuals, centers, and organizations:
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The Editorial Board of Reflective Practice
The Rev. Dr. James G. Emerson
Herbert Anderson, Editor
Rod Seeger, Managing Editor
Pacific Lutheran Theological Seminary
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Mill Valley, CA
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Stanford University Medical Center, ACPE
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Reflective Practice: Formation and Supervision in Ministry is a journal that seeks to understand, expand, and promote theory, learning, and reflection in the practice of supervision and formation in various ministries from diverse ethnic and religious perspectives.
While this journal welcomes essays and readers from a wide range of disciplines, the practice
on which we reflect remains focused on formation and supervision in and for the sake of
strengthening religious leaders. Only articles related to these goals will be considered for
publication. Reflection on formation and supervision in ministry from nations and cultures outside of the United States are especially invited. Book reviews are welcome, also.
Neil Sims
Australia
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Services (Palo Alto, CA). Articles are abstracted in Abstracts of Research in Pastoral Care and Counseling.
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ISSN 0160-7774
Copyright 2011 Reflective Practice: Formation and Supervision in Ministry
All Rights Reserved
Table of Contents
Reflective Practice Joins the Digital Age........................................................................... 3
Editorial Policy
The Editorial Board...................................................................................................... 4
Theme: FORMATION AND SUPERVISION
IN A DIGITAL AGE
Section 1: PERSPECTIVES
Editorial......................................................................................................................... 6
Learning from “Digital Natives:”
Forming a New Generation of Religious Leaders
Richard Nysse..................................................................................................... 11
Technology and Ministry
Stephanie Paulsell.............................................................................................. 20
Shifting Sensibilities: Some Consequences of Digital Technology
Robert S. Fortner................................................................................................ 35
Jacques Ellul’s The Technological Society Re-Visited
John A. Coleman................................................................................................ 43
Comment on Coleman’s Review
Ki Do Ahn....................................................................................................... 49
Section 2: PRACTICES
Editorial....................................................................................................................... 51
Reflections on Teaching Pastoral Care Online
Elaine Ramshaw................................................................................................. 54
Teaching Spiritual Care Online Using Online Spiritual Care Chats
Carrie Doehring.................................................................................................. 65
The Same? Not the Same?
Online Spiritual Direction, Supervision, and Training
John R. Mabry..................................................................................................... 78
Response to John Mabry
Maria Tattu Bowen......................................................................................... 87
In Search of Theory and Criteria for the Practice of Distance Supervision
Gordon J. Hilsman and Angelika A. Zollfrank.............................................. 92
Section 3: Problematic
Editorial..................................................................................................................... 107
A Friendly Arc in a Digital Sea: A Case Study..................................................... 107
Making Time to Reflect in Order to Learn
Eva Marie Lumas............................................................................................. 109
Internet Safety Guidelines
Connecticut Conference of the United Church of Christ........................... 112
Section 4: POSSIBILITIES
Introduction.............................................................................................................. 117
Symposium:
When the Clinical Practice is Digital
Reflections on Supervision at VITAS Innovative Hospice Care
Martha Rutland................................................................................................ 119
My Experience Supervising CPE Units and a
Candidate Supervisor via Video Conferencing
Gary Sartain...................................................................................................... 122
Distance Learning for Supervisory Education: A Frustrating Experience
Jeffrey M. Silberman........................................................................................ 126
Section 4: POSSIBILITIES (CONTINUED)
Supervisory Practice in a Distance-Learning Program of
Formation for Ministry
Susanna Singer................................................................................................. 129
Virtual Reflection or Virtually Reflecting?
Doing Group Theological Reflection Online
Lee Beach........................................................................................................... 133
Overcoming Distance and Time: Online Supervisor
Training in Contextual Education Programs
Susan E. Fox and Stephanie B. Croom.......................................................... 137
Reflections on Practices and Possibilities
Kamal Abu-Shamsieh...................................................................................... 141
Peer-Group Intimacy and Video Teleconferencing: A Response and
Reflections by a CPE Supervisory Education Peer-Group
Kurt Shaffert, Patrick Whiteford, Mary Q. Browne, and Elizabeth Putnam.145
Section 5: OUTSIDE THE THEME
Editorial..................................................................................................................... 149
Collaborative Generativity: The What, Who, and How of
Supervision in a Modern/Post-Modern Context
Joretta L. Marshall............................................................................................ 151
Theologically Reflective Practice: A Key Tool for Contemporary Ministry
Neil Sims........................................................................................................... 166
Ministry Experiences of First-Career Seminarians:
In the Middle of a Life World
Timothy Lincoln............................................................................................... 177
Legitimate Peripheral Participation: Entering a Community of Practice
Matthew Floding and Glenn Swier............................................................... 193
Adult Development and Theological Field Education
Lorraine Ste-Marie........................................................................................... 205
The Art of Supervision: Canvas, Song, and Dance
Susan Freeman.................................................................................................. 228
ACPE THEORY PAPER
AAPC THEORY PAPER
Cheston’s “Ways Paradigm” Applied to Pastoral Counseling Supervision
Desmond Buhagar........................................................................................... 245
Book Reviews
State of the Art in Clinical Supervision
by John R. Culbreth and Lori L. Brown, eds.
Reviewed by C. George Fitzgerald................................................................ 263
Evidence-Based Clinical Supervision: Principles and Practices by Derek Milne
Reviewed by R. Scott Sullender..................................................................... 265
Fundamentals of Clinical Supervision, 4th ed.
by Janine M. Bernard and Rodney K. Goodyear
Reviewed by Dagmar Grefe........................................................................... 267
Learning in Adulthood: A Comprehensive Guide, 3rd ed.
by Sharan B. Merriam, Rosemary S. Caffarella, and Lisa M. Baumgartner
Reviewed by Peter Yuichi Clark.................................................................... 268
Equipping the Saints: Best Practices in Contextual Theological Education
by David O. Jenkins and P. Alice Rogers, eds.
Reviewed by R. Leon Carroll, Jr..................................................................... 270
Book Reviews (Continued)
Pastoral Supervision: A Handbook by Jane Leach and Michael Paterson
Reviewed by Carrie L. Buckner..................................................................... 272
Transforming Spirituality: Integrating Theology and Psychology
by F. LeRon Shults and Steven J. Sandage
Reviewed by Bruce H. Lescher...................................................................... 273
Happiness at Work: Maximizing Your Psychological Capital for Success
by Jessica Pryce-Jones
Reviewed by John P. Martinson..................................................................... 275
Spiritual and Psychological Aspects of Illness: Dealing with Sickness, Loss, Dying, and Death
by Beverly A. Musgrave and Neil J. McGettingan, eds.
Reviewed by John Gillman............................................................................. 276
Siblings by Choice: Race, Gender and Violence
by Archie Smith, Jr. and Ursula Riedel-Pfaefflin
Reviewed by Laurie Garrett-Cobbina........................................................... 277
Women Out of Order: Risking Change and Creating Care in a Multicultural World
by Jeanne Stevenson-Moessner and Teresa Snorton
Reviewed by Isabel N. Docampo................................................................... 281
Welcome to Theological Field Education! by Matthew Floding, ed.
Reviewed by Nancy E. Hall............................................................................ 282
In Memorium................................................................................................................... 285
Subscription/Order Form.............................................................................................. 288
Reflective Practice:
Formation and Supervision in Ministry
Joins the Digital Age
The Editorial Board of Reflective Practice is pleased to announce that
beginning with Volume 31, Reflective Practice will be published electronically at http://journals.sfu.ca/rpfs/.
To fulfill our mission as a global resource in formation and supervision for the next generation of religious leaders around the globe,
Reflective Practice will be an OPEN ACCESS JOURNAL—FREE to
anyone anywhere in the world with Internet access—no registration
is necessary—simply go to http://journals.sfu.ca/rpfs
Volumes 27–30 are available online (and Volume 31 will be available
by May, 2011) in the archives at http://journals.sfu.ca/rpfs.
Printed copies of Volume 31 and past or future printed volumes
of Reflective Practice may be ordered through the journal’s website:
www.reflective-practice.org
eDiToRiAl PoliCY
The publication of this issue is a significant moment in the history
of this Journal. It was first published in the winter of 1978 as The
Journal of Supervision and Training in ministry to foster critical reflection and writing on pastoral supervision and to be a resource
for anyone engaged in preparing people for the ministries of care.
The stated purpose was “to preserve and extend the field of supervision and training in ministry formation through the written word.”
Subsequently, the participating disciplines were expanded to include supervised field education for ministry in general and more specifically supervision for spiritual direction. Each time another context or discipline has
been added to the conversation about supervision, we are revitalized by the
challenge of holding together the increasingly rich diversity of theoretical
perspectives and religious practices. We hope that readers will learn from
reading about and reflecting on the practice of supervision and formation in
disciplines and contexts different than their own.
With the decision of the Board to publish Reflective Practice electronically beginning with this volume, we hope our readership will expand globally. The Board’s decision to make Reflective Practice an OPEN ACCESS journal—free to anyone, anywhere with Internet access—will make it possible
for this Journal to be a resource for formation and supervision in even more
diverse contexts and perspectives.
Welcome! In addition to Volume 31, you will find Volumes 27–30 of Reflective Practice in the archives at http://journals.sfu.ca/rpfs. Our intent is to
add other volumes to the archives as we are able. We look forward to hearing from old and new readers around the globe who discover this Journal in
order that we might strengthen our aim to be a resource in formation and supervision. Send your comments about this Volume or the Journal in general
and its focus through our website, www.reflective-practice.org.
Good practice relies on constant reflection and the capacity for critical
self-reflection is an essential dimension of any habitus for ministry and religious leadership. Pastoral supervision is itself a practice that occurs in relationships that encourage such critical reflection. When formation is added to
supervision, the practices are expanded to include the many ways by which
people are prepared for and sustained in religious leadership. We are also attentive to the ways in which systems, structures, and the environment affect
the actions or praxis that are the occasion for reflection.
The editorial board
5
This journal, Reflective Practice: Formation and Supervision in Ministry,
seeks to provide a framework for reflection on supervision and formation
for a range of ministries, in a variety of contexts, and from different faith traditions. The mission statement of this journal supports that goal:
Reflective Practice: Formation and Supervision in Ministry is a journal
that seeks to understand, expand, and promote theory, learning, and
reflection in the practice of supervision and formation in various ministries from diverse ethnic and religious perspectives.
As an Editorial Board, we are committed to that diverse dialogue. The
various educational centers in the San Francisco Bay Area provide a richly
diverse religious, theological, and clinical context to explore the future of
formation and supervision for religious leaders. We hope that our global
readers will further enhance that reflective practice by contributing articles
from a variety of religious and ethnic/cultural perspectives. Send your proposals or articles to the Editor, Herbert Anderson at handerson@plts.edu.
Again, welcome! We hope you will discover the digital theme of this volume
to be particularly timely.
The Editorial Board
Spring 2011
SeCTion 1
PeRSPeCTiVeS
What Are We becoming with our Technology?
implications for Religious leaders
When the Editorial Board chose “Formation and Supervision in a
Digital Age” as the appropriate theme for this first volume published electronically and available globally because of the Internet, we had no idea that
Social Network, the movie about the origins of Facebook, would be nominated for an Academy Award as Best Picture of 2010; nor did we envision
that social networking would be credited as one factor launching political
revolutions in Egypt and other Middle Eastern countries; nor could we anticipate fully the impact of this rapidly changing technology on how we
shop, solve problems, or create and sustain relationships; nor did we anticipate the power of tweeting and blogging to bring down public figures, using the speed of the Internet to circulate questionable personal information.
It is clear that we are in the midst of a social revolution the end of which is
difficult to forecast.
There are many questions about the “digital age” that are not considered in this volume. We don’t, for example, address the problems of storing
or eliminating unwanted email; who inherits our email property when we
die is already a serious problem. There is very little in this volume about issues of confidentiality or how the fluidity of personal boundaries in social
networks like Facebook or MySpace increase or diminish our capacity for intimacy in daily relationships. It is a revolution with enormous potential for
both good and evil. How will the specter of predators using the Internet to
attract victims affect the formation of online learning communities of trust?
How will the digital capacity to determine communities of interest affect
membership in religious communities?
This first section around the theme “Formation and Supervision in a
Digital Age” presents several perspectives exploring the impact of information technology on living in general and ministry in particular. The critical
issue with the new technology, Philip Hefner once observed, is not “what
are we doing with our technology,” but rather “what are we becoming with
our technology.”1 The digital revolution has created a new culture with new
language and seemingly infinite possibilities. The culture the Internet has
created has changed how we think and interact even when our access to dig-
Anderson
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ital technology is limited. Therefore, eventually, not only how we supervise
will change but the people preparing for religious leadership will be shaped
by the technology itself.
The communication revolution spawned by the computer and the Internet mirrors the upheaval generated by the invention of the printing press.
Like the printing press, digital technology is changing how we understand authority. That is the first consequence of the digital revolution that will affect
formation and supervision of religious leaders. Universal access to information and easy dissemination of ideas alters yet again the boundaries between experts and amateurs. The digital self, as Robert S. Fortner observes
in his essay in this section, “combines quite nicely with the post-modern
sensibility that questions all authority.”2
Martin Luther used the newly invented print media to spread his ideas
widely and quickly. As a result, an unknown monk from Wittenberg, Germany became a revolutionary icon and spiritual authority overnight. If you
have a blog, you can be an authority. Someone I know slightly may write a blog
on her Facebook that intrigues me because it is cogent, relevant, or clever.
She has no credentials and is not endorsed as an authority, but what she
writes confirms my own opinion and so I give her authority by passing on
her blog to many of my friends, for whom she may become an authority, and
then trust what she writes merely because of my recommendation. I may
next discover that a number of my friends have shared the same blog with
others and I am inclined to giving my blogger friend even more authority.
One foolish blog entry by her may cause her authority, and perhaps my own
by association, to be lost as quickly as it was won.
Social media tools like Facebook, blogs, and tweets are redefining our
expectations of privacy. Very personal information is exchanged without
thinking much about the consequences of public exposure. It is, after all,
impersonal technology that makes it happen. This sharing gives the appearance of intimacy without either physical or emotional presence. Eventually,
we will need to learn how to balance between the benefits of openness or
transparency and the security risks of broadly-shared information that is
difficult to retrieve once it is in cyberspace. In the meantime, we are left more
isolated and vulnerable than we expected by these ‘connecting technologies.’ This is
the second impact of the digital age on formation and supervision. We will
need to establish new criteria for evaluating the fluidity of personal boundaries in social networks that inevitably affect the willingness to be appropriately vulnerable in formation for ministry.
8
Section 1: Perspectives
The increasing speed of digital technology is the third challenge for ministry formation. Instant access and a faster Internet speed can make life easier
and the expectations of merely human religious leaders harder to embrace.
Speedy digital gadgets reinforce the expectations of an “instant” society,
where five-second delays at an intersection can be an occasion for rage. We
are not likely to wait to buy something we need or want in a store if the
check-out line is too long. Waiting begins to seems like powerlessness, helplessness, and passivity. Even so, preparation for religious leadership of any
kind, in any context, needs to include attention to patient waiting as an essential quality of leadership. Religious leaders need to wait because congregations are often slower to change or try something new than the people
who lead them. Walking with people through the long, slow process of dying and grieving requires ministers who can live at a pace different than the
speed of a digital technology that is vying for domination in our lives. Embracing Paul Tillich’s observation that “we are stronger when we wait than
when we possess”3 is challenged by the speed of a digital age.
In the first essay, Richard Nysse, a biblical scholar who as been a practitioner and proponent of online teaching for more than a decade, argues
that the digital revolution in teaching and learning should be understood in
terms of language and culture more than in generational difference. In his
review of some literature, Nysse borrows a distinction from Marc Prensky
and invites us to acknowledge that most formation directors or pastoral supervisors are “digital immigrants” who need to learn from “digital natives”
for whom digital languages, and the culture they create, are second nature.4
He insists that the contrast often made between the “virtual” and the “real”
is a false dichotomy. In order to enter into the emerging digital ecosystem,
Nysse encourages us to do what we have always done in times of change:
accompany human beings on the journey, listen carefully, ask critical questions, and be willing to be surprised.
The essay by Stephanie Paulsell explores two themes that have consequences for ministry. The ways in which technology is affecting our capacity
for sustained attention, contemplative thought, and deep engagement is the
first. If it is true, as neuroscience studies suggest, that digital activities are
rewriting the neural pathways in our brains, these religious practices may
be changed as an unintended consequence of digital technology. The second theme Paulsell develops takes its cue from Jaron Lanier’s book You Are
Not A Gadget. She calls for more humanistic forms of technology that do not
force our lives into a grid devised by a Harvard sophomore, but will rath-
Anderson
9
er preserve our individuality and our capacity for sustained relationship,
purposeful, meditative attention, and the disciplined practice of worship,
prayer, study, and service.
We are grateful to Robert Fortner and Word and World for allowing us
to reprint his essay. Since reading the essay, I have had several occasions to
observe his distinction between ‘analog’ and ‘digital’ conversation. Because
so much information is available to us in sudden bursts of disconnected data
that we can combine and recombine at will, it is easy to imagine words or
sentences as discrete entities that can be dropped into a conversation discontinuous with anything that has gone before or comes after. Fortner is
correct in observing that “none of us would be quick to give up our digital
lifelines.”5 Even so, religious communities that value continuity, consistency,
constancy, and collective wisdom will be challenged by a digitally-formed
culture that promotes convenience, speed, access, freedom, interactivity,
and technical sophistication.
With John Coleman’s review essay of Jacques Ellul’s The Technological
Society, we continue a practice of revisiting a classic text begun in the last volume. Coleman finds this book, written 60 years ago, amazingly contemporary. Here is a quote from Coleman’s review that is worthy of reading twice:
“No one, then, so brilliantly unmasks the technological mind and its ability
to lure us into a kind of blind acceptance and complacency in its ascendancy
as Ellul. No one so well details that technology is not neutral or that, while
made to serve humans, actually subverts that hierarchy, so humans are subverted to it. No one so well helps us see that technology is rarely neutral in
its effects.”6
Each of the essays in this perspective raise serious questions about the
impact of digital technology on human life in general, and faithful religious
living and pastoral supervision in particular. The intent of these first essays
in a volume devoted to exploring “formation and supervision in a digital
age” is not to reject the amazing gains of technology or promote a “Luddite”
response to modern culture dominated by those gains. Our intent is simply
to raise questions lest we lose sight of the human and examine closely what
we are becoming because of digital technology.
Herbert Anderson
Editor
Section 1: Perspectives
10
NOTES
1.
Philip Hefner, Technology and Human Becoming (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2003), 9.
2.
Robert Fortner, “Shifting Sensibilities: Some Consequences of Digital Technology,”
Reflective Practice 31 (2011): 39.
3.
Paul Tillich, The Shaking of the Foundations (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1948), 151.
4.
Marc Prensky, “Digital Natives, Digital Immigrants”: http://www.marcprensky.
com/writing/prensky%20-%20digital%20natives,%20digital%20immigrants%20
-%20part1.pdf (Last accessed March 10, 2011).
5.
Fortner, “Shifting Sensibilities,” 41.
6.
John Coleman, “Jacques Ellul’s The Technological Society Re-Visited,” Reflective Practice
31 (2011): 46.
The Internet is certainly a new ‘forum,’ understood in the ancient Roman sense of that public space where politics and business were transacted, where religious duties were fulfilled, where much of the social
life of the city took place, and where the best and the worst of human
nature was on display. It was a crowded and bustling urban space,
which both reflected the surrounding culture and created a culture of
its own. This is no less true of cyberspace, which is as it were a new
frontier opening up at the beginning of this new millennium. Like
the new frontiers of other times, this one too is full of the interplay of
danger and promise, and not without the sense of adventure which
marked other great periods of change. For the Church the new world
of cyberspace is a summons to the great adventure of using its potential to proclaim the Gospel message. This challenge is at the heart of
what it means at the beginning of the millennium to follow the Lord’s
command to “put out into the deep”: Duc in altum! (Luke 5:4)
John Paul II
“Message of the Holy Father for the 36th World Communications
Day” (Sunday, May 12, 2002). Available online at www.vatican.va.
Learning from “Digital Natives:”
Forming a New Generation of Religious Leaders
Richard Nysse
The theme of this issue of Reflective Practice raises serious questions. Are not
supervision and spiritual formation for ministry inherently antithetical to
all the chatter about virtual worlds? I have been asked a similar question by
colleagues as I have taught online classes for the last fifteen years: because
ministry is embodied, doesn’t education for ministry have to occur in an
embodied classroom? My standard answer has been to agree that ministry
is embodied, but then to assert that learning for ministry does not need to
occur in front of my body. Why not give priority to learning in the context of
the bodies present in parish contexts? The primary social location of learners
matters and perhaps teachers must “travel” to the social location of learners.
Learning is disruptive, but the learner does not necessarily need to be displaced (i.e., inhabit a school) for the disruption to occur. I make these statements to provide a context for the comments below.
I write as a practitioner of online learning, specifically in the area of
Old Testament. Although supervision and spiritual formation are not my
Richard Nysse, MDiv, ThD, professor of Old Testament, Luther Seminary, 2481 Como
Ave., St. Paul, MN 55108 (Email: rnysse@luthersem.edu).
12
Learning from “digital natives”
vocational center, I have been deeply engaged in preparing future pastoral
leaders. As a consequence of my online teaching and my commitment to
preparing pastoral ministers, I am pestered by one question that is the impetus for these reflections: “What needs to done to form the new generation of
pastors and supervisors for whom the digital technology is natural?”
What Needs to be Done?
First, those who would classify themselves as outside of this new generation need to listen, observe, and withhold judgment. Deep curiosity and
inquiry would be in order as is the case in any movement across cultural boundaries. (The “new” generation is different enough that speaking of
“movement across cultural boundaries” is not hyperbole.) Questions to be
asked include: How are members of the “new” generation communicating
with one another? What are their rules? What constitutes a violation of their
ethos? What draws them closer to each other? When they communicate with
acquaintances, or with friends, or with those with whom they are intimate,
what are their communication patterns? The listening and observational
skills of a counselor and an ethnographer are in order.
One way to start listening and observing is to contrast “digital immigrants” and “digital natives,” a distinction introduced a decade ago by Marc
Prensky.1 The contrast is apt as a heuristic device even though it is not a formal sociological classification. The “native” versus “immigrant” distinction
is not chronological; rather, it is behavioral. It is a distinction between those
for whom digital communication is a first language (“natives”), not a second
language (“immigrants”). Of course, some “immigrants” can eventually become quite adept at a second language. Framing the distinction in terms of
language and culture is more helpful than a generational framing.
Secondly, there is a need to recognize that power relationships will
be disrupted. The root image in Prensky’s distinction needs to be nuanced
when considering the distribution of power. The “natives” have the needed
information; they are adept at what needs to be learned. The “immigrants”
have more credentialing power; they determine who is certified for ordination or successfully completes Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE). They
have the “power of the grade” (or other symbols of appellation). But when
it comes to learning the second language of the digital culture, the “immigrants” become the mentee or apprentice, while the “natives” assume the
role of supervisors. As with any good supervisor-mentee relationship, the
Nysse
13
communication is not one-way; there is a mix of didactic one-way communication and give-and-take dialogic conversation. For example, when the
abbreviations used in texting need to be learned, a didactic response is appropriate; the transmissional mode has a place in learning. Those who are
teaching, in this case, are the ones with less power. Those who control the
credentialing systems are the ones in need of tutoring, supervision, and formation. Once the needed information is transmitted, however, a more dialogical relationship can once again commence.
Thirdly, there will be a period in which the “immigrant” learner feels
like a beginner. The mantle of “expert” will have to be placed on the hook.
That is not surprising. All learning has a component of unlearning, of beginning again. If that seems too strong, try an analogy to service learning—or
experiential learning in a CPE or field education setting. There is no substitute for practice. Even “experts” need to engage in actual practice. Jumping
into digital learning is necessary; it cannot be learned apart from engaging
in practice.
Valuing Disruptive Digital Learning
If one grants the need for “immigrants” to jump into digital learning, one
must concede the possibility that digital learning has been sufficiently successful to merit seeking what it might have to offer. That is not universally
granted. Member schools of the Association of Theological Schools differ significantly over the appropriateness and success of distance learning for the
formation of theological leaders. Opposition to digital learning, especially in
the form of online courses for students at a distance from our institutions, is
accused of dumbing down, or commodifying, education, betraying the essential embodiment of the faith, and a host of other deficiencies. Although
each of these charges has been countered successfully, in my opinion, I here
wish to assert only that the charges should not be treated as conclusive. We
ought not commence our learning with a verdict already in hand.
I would suggest that we back up a bit (or slow down, as the case may be)
and examine our responses to the terms and the phenomenon we encounter
as disrupting our settled practices. For example, when a phrase like “digital
learning” is used, what does it evoke for us? Much confusion arises because
the phrase does not yet connote a standard referent in our learning cultures.
What mental constructs are operative when we hear the phrase? The image
of a solitary figure sitting before a flight simulator is one operative men-
14
tal construct. Rodin’s “The Thinker” sitting before a computer screen was a
common image used a decade ago to satirize online learning. Grandchildren
punching away at their handheld Nintendo DSi devices, while in the presence of their grandparents, is are another example. There may be grudging
admiration for their dexterity, but most grandparents initially regard it as an
expensive entertainment gadget that prevents conversation.
If one watches a bit longer, however, it is clear that children are asking
each other questions when they are stuck or wirelessly transferring games to
each other or actually playing a game with each other. They are engaged in
considerable exploration, valued interchange is occurring, and social negotiation is taking place. The learning is informal, but it is also significant. Historically, informal learning has suffered varied degrees of suspicion or disregard. It is okay to pick up “skills” or “crafts” informally, but it is often not
valued as “knowledge” apart from folklore studies. While that may sound
like a populist response to the presumptions of cultural and educational
elites, there are new patterns of learning emerging that cannot be ignored.
Even if our first reaction is to fear the loss of standards, quality, authenticity,
and a host of other virtues that are in theory under threat from digital and
social media, we are not exempt from the need to face these questions.
Is the flight simulator the apt analogy for learning in online courses—
or, for that matter, online mentoring and supervision? Granted digital technology speeds up transactional procedures like transmitting and distributing forms filled with data. When we move beyond the transactional, the
response will have to be nuanced. The flight simulator image may be apt for
online courses that are basically electronic correspondence courses. If learning is primarily understood as receiving and retaining the conclusions of
the teacher or supervisor (the subject matter experts), then an online course
working within that understanding of teaching and learning will seem to be
little more than a variation on a flight simulator. (I am assuming, of course,
that flight simulators have a proper and important place.) The didactic voice
of the simulator may seem a bit one dimensional compared to the live voice
and visual presence of a teacher in the classroom, but, in the end, the student
is evaluated on the basis of replicating what the expert voice has communicated. Readers of a journal like Reflective Practice might immediately object
to such a teaching and learning paradigm. Obviously, the student is not a
vessel to be filled through an online course or a classroom lecture!
Objections and cautions are not, on the other hand, automatically dismissible as caricatures or the fearful voices of Luddites. Reverse caricatures
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are not helpful either. I linger on this issue because it often derails explorations of what is now possible in the era of digital technology and social media. Both exploration of emerging affordances and necessary assessment of
implementations of those affordances are sidetracked by either defensiveness or boosterish posturing.
Beyond Technology: Learning New Behavior
A more fruitful approach is to step back from evaluative deliberations (and
pre-judgments) to see what is emerging. The talents that make for good “formation and supervision in ministry” can be put to good use in navigating
the world of digital technology and social media. It is a new world, even
though the degree of disruptiveness (for better or worse) of the “new” may
be disputed. It is worth returning to Prensky’s distinction between “digital
natives” and “digital immigrants.” It reminds us that what is natural behavior for digital natives is, at best, learned behavior for digital immigrants—immigrants are aware of having learned a second language. His distinction is
nomenclature for a shift in behavior, not merely shifts in technology.
Once we focus on behavior, rather than technology, we become students
of human behavior and we are back in the realm in which readers of this journal are particularly adept. Before we pass judgment on digital technology and
social media, we will need to engage in a long period of listening and observing. Perhaps we could even imagine being a good tourist before we lock ourselves into either the native or immigrant image. We might ask whether or
not we come to the new “country” or “culture” with any prior “knowledge.”
Have we read a tourist guide? Have we picked up a batch of hearsay impressions prior to our journey? What values from our own prior experience and
culture are we apt to use wittingly, or unwittingly, as a lens for our new experience? What are we most apt to “see?” We don’t go to Tuscany de novo; we arrive with expectations. What are the myths/assumptions we bring to our journey into human behavior in the era of digital technology and social media?
As a tourist in a new “country,” we may need a tour guide or two. One
such guide is danah boyd.2 She has written extensively on teens and social
media, using her blog as a primary publication outlet. That latter piece of
data about her may already raise suspicions for you regarding her credentials, but welcome to the new world of social credentialing. She does have
the requisite doctoral dissertation to establish initial credibility in academic
circles, but her credibility was established through her use of social media
16
well before she completed her thesis. She is an ethnographic tour guide in
social media country. In September 2010, she announced her intentions to
write a book focused on “myths that we have about teens and social media.”2 Her preliminary list included eight myths:
• Myth #1: The digital is separate from the “real” world.
• Myth #2: Social media makes kids deceptive.
• Myth #3: Social media is addictive.
• Myth #4: Kids don’t care about privacy.
• Myth #5: The Internet is a dangerous, dangerous place.
• Myth #6: There’s nothing educational about social media.
• Myth #7: Kids are digital natives.
• Myth #8: The Internet is the great equalizer.
In listing these myths as the initial organization of her projected book,
she invited her readers to add their “favorite news articles that reinforce
these widespread beliefs.” Dozens have responded and their responses are
not a mere echo-chamber, but a fine illustration of the extent to which collaboration is very easily executed. There is no need for a conference, although
that is not precluded. There is no need for a long delay between request and
response—most comments posted in response were done within two days.
But aside from the altered relationship to space and time, the breadth of respondents is remarkable. The reader does not know their credentials; we
cannot pre-judge the value of their comments based on their degrees or job
titles. Does this mean Myth #8 is not a myth? No, few readers would judge
all the comments to be of equal value for the project that danah boyd is undertaking, but the criteria for participation and subsequent evaluation are
now unhitched from predetermination by hierarchal guardians. If you are
an established guardian, you are likely to feel a considerable loss. If you are
one of the voices that has often been shut out on the basis of gender, race, or
social class, you might find the playing field is a bit closer to level.
I said a “bit” closer to level. Why the hesitant endorsement? Put Myth
#1 next to Myth #8 and you can see the complexity of the world danah boyd
is guiding us through. The Internet has not become the “great equalizer”
proclaimed by its most ardent boosters. It reflects the “real” world, which is
filled with inequalities. Contrary to the impression created by many critics,
social media have not separated teens from each other according to danah
boyd’s research. Their “friends” on Facebook are of two types at a minimum. There are friends who are listed and who’s posting show up on their
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page, but, in contrast, there are friends with whom they actually communicate. The latter are overwhelming their friends in their embodied environments—and, their “real” friends, both in person and online, reflect the social
stratifications of society. The in-groups and out-groups overlap considerably in the two arenas of interaction. Injustice in one is reflected in the other;
racial bias in one is reflected in the other. In short, their online world reflects
their real world; it is, in fact, a single world for them. To return to Prensky’s
terms, the teens who actively use social media are digital natives with but
one world; for digital immigrants however, online and offline remain different worlds.
If we address the myths danah boyd has listed, we will find it hard
to give a straightforward true or false response. Each response will need
to consider context. Part of the contextual consideration will be the other
myths listed. Their interplay multiplies the contextual factors to be considered. If we moved beyond the teen population, responses would again be
altered. For example, the role of Facebook and Twitter in the politics of the
Egypt and Tunisia in early 2011 worked in a manner far different from the
teenage “friending” on Facebook. Obviously, the unfolding events are attributable to more than Twitter and Facebook, but the latter were equalizing
factors. Shutting down these means of communication is not as simple as
placing guards around the printing press. There is no need to ship in paper
for printing or set up transport systems to distribute printed copies. The
analog world has bottlenecks that can be readily strangled. In the context of
political mobilization, the responses to Myth #1 and Myth #8 will be different from those in the context of teen cultures.
At this point, we can add a second tour guide for our journey to the
new “country” of digital technology. Clay Shirky’s recent books3 probe the
social changes that have emerged as a result of employing social media technology. Shirky’s publications emphasize gains more that dangers. That is
not problematic if we are proceeding as “tourists.” Shirky, using many specific instances, sketches the shift from broadcast (newspapers and TV, for example) to networked communication (such as blogs and wikis, for example).
At first, the marvel of digital technology was speed and breadth of access to
information, but Shirky points to access to conversation as the more significant shift. The cost of coordinating communication is much lower; groups
can be formed with a fraction of their prior costs. There is a reduced need
for finding an agreed upon time and place to meet for conversation and interaction. Can more people attend on Tuesday night or on Thursday night?
18
Is the community center or the church basement the better place to meet?
These organizing “costs” evaporate. Shirky asserts that this does not introduce a new competitor in the old ecosystem; rather it creates a new ecosystem. Wikipedia does not compete in Encyclopaedia Britannica’s ecosystem—it
is a new ecosystem. The social media tools that have received widespread
usage are tools that have helped people do what they actually wanted to do.
The impulses for change in Tunisia and Egypt existed prior to Twitter and
Facebook—the latter did not create the passion and combining the two led
to the streets, that is, to the embodied world. The contrast between the virtual and real is, in these instances, a false dichotomy.
Is this all for the good? Of course not—pornography is still present in the
new ecosystem and vulnerabilities can be exploited. Those who hate others
can use the social media to coordinate ethnic violence as readily as those who
use it to expose and oppose violence. It was used, for example, in both ways
following the December 2007 election in Kenya. Humans contest in this ecosystem, for good and for ill.4 If we travel as tourists into the digital terrain with
guides such as Shirky, we need to suspend our judgments long enough to discover what is emerging, but we do not need to totally jettison our evaluative
capacities or responsibilities. We do retain some reservoir of independent judgment even in the presence of tour guides. The shift from scribes to the printing press altered the world in ways that we would not want reverse, but dark
forces were not thereby removed from human experience. Similarly, we are in
a period of transition and there will emerge both things we would not want
to reverse and consequences we will have to mitigate or oppose. Refusing to
make the journey will not stop the negative consequences. We need, as we
have in our familiar ecosystem, to accompany human beings, to listen, to learn,
to converse, to question, and to affirm. The capacities we have will morph as
we journey into the emerging ecosystem, but there will be lines of continuity.
Once the hyperbolic rhetoric of boosters and naysayers dies down, we will still
be dealing with human behavior—changed behavior, but still human.
So, readers of Reflective Practice, enjoy the journey.
NOTES
1.
Marc Prensky, “Digital Natives, Digital Immigrants,” http://www.marcprensky.
com/writing/prensky%20-%20digital%20natives,%20digital%20immigrants%20-%20
part1.pdf (Last accessed March 10, 2011). For a listing of a publications disputing Prensky’s contrast, see Doug Holton, “The Digital Natives/Digital Immigrants Distinction
is Dead, or At Least Dying,” http://edtechdev.wordpress.com/2010/03/19/the-digital-natives-digital-immigrants-distinction-is-dead-or-at-least-dying/ (Last accessed
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March 10, 2011). While one can readily concede points made by critics, most of what
is reacted to are overextensions of Prensky’s point. He did not attempt to make claims
that needed social scientific criteria for validation. The basic heuristic value of distinction in 2001 cannot be denied and it is still serviceable for commencing conversation in
many general audiences.
2.
danah boyd, “Favorite Myth-making News Articles?”: http://www.zephoria.org/
thoughts/archives/2010/09/11/favorite-myth-making-news-articles.html. For a selection of her blogs, see http://www.zephoria.org/thoughts/bestof.html. Her dissertation, Taken Out of Context: American Teen Sociality in Networked Publics, is available at http://www.danah.org/papers/TakenOutOfContext.pdf. (All links accessed
March 10, 2011).
3.
Clay Shirky, Here Comes Everybody: The Power of Organizing Without Organizations
(New York: Penguin Press, 2008) and Cognitive Surplus: Creativity and Generosity in a
Connected Age (New York: Penguin Press, 2010).
4.
For a nuanced review of the role of digital media, see Joshua Goldstein and Juliana
Rotich, “Digitally Networked Technology in Kenya’s 2007–2008 Post-Election Crisis”
http://cyber.law.harvard.edu/sites/cyber.law.harvard.edu/files/Goldstein&Rotich_
Digitally_Networked_Technology_Kenyas_Crisis.pdf.pdf (Last accessed April 18,
2011). In contrast, Clay Shirky narrates primarily the positive effect in Cognitive Surplus (15–16).
Social networking is a vast and unfamiliar world, explored by millions
who are making their way—and making mistakes. When the pastor
joins, she is entering a world where family, friends past and present, and
parishioners past and present are already interacting and eavesdropping
electronically. The first question to be asked once the pastor is on Facebook is whether and to what extent one will be pastor on Facebook…
Given the great potential for both good and evil online, pastors have a
unique opportunity to be engaged in the electronic world in which their
parishioners are active. As with nearly everything, the best use of online
social networking is a critical engagement. After poring through social—
networking research, I became far more discerning, considered online
habits more consciously, and made some changes. I expect to continue
to adapt. Social networking involves courageous steps into a world millions of humans already inhabit. If God calls us into the realities of life
wherever people experience it, then we can go boldly and enjoy the ride,
for this critical engagement comes with a lot of fun.
Amy C. Thoren
“The Pastor on Facebook: Boldly Going Where Everyone Else Goes” in
Word and World 30, no. 3. (Summer, 2010).
Technology and Ministry
Stephanie Paulsell
“The most important thing to ask about any technology is how it changes people.”
—Jaron Lanier, You Are Not a Gadget: A Manifesto1
Open almost any thoughtful magazine, online or off, and you will find
yourself in the middle of the debate about the effects of technology on our
lives. Adam Gopnik recently summarized what he sees as the dominant
perspectives into three categories: the Never-Betters, who believe us to be
on the threshold of a paradise in which we are all connected and information is free; the Better-Nevers, who are convinced that our online habits undermine the human capacity for sustained attention, creativity, and
maybe even empathy, and wish the whole thing had never happened; and
the Ever-Wasers, who delight in reminding us that new technologies for
communication and the sharing and storing of information have been appearing since Socrates at least, stimulating euphoria in some and profound
anxiety in others.2
Stephanie Paulsell, PhD, MA, Houghton Professor of the Practice of Ministry Studies,
Harvard Divinity School, Andover Hall 407, 45 Francis Ave., Cambridge, MA 02138
(Email: spaulsell@hds.harvard.edu).
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21
It is a reflection of how fast everything is moving that Gopnik’s typology, published only a few months ago in The New Yorker, already feels
dated or at least not finely-enough drawn. Even the most dedicated of those
Gopnik calls the Better-Nevers acknowledge that we are in the midst of an
unstoppable and fundamental shift in how human beings interact with each
other. We—I find myself in this category—do not want to give up on technologies that can link human beings to one another across geography and
culture and give us access to vast sources of knowledge. But we do want to
choose how we “position [ourselves] as history makes a swerve,”3 rather
than being passively caught up in changes that might change us in ways
which we had not foreseen.
Many of those Gopnik might categorize as Better-Nevers are now experimenting with a new asceticism: deliberate practices of setting aside
smart phones, turning off computers, experiencing Facebook-free weekends
in order to discover who we are when we are not wired-in, to be present
with those with whom we share our lives, and to resist the undermining of
our capacity for attention wrought by multitasking. These attempts at what
Wen Stephenson has called a “hybrid existence”4 seem to acknowledge that,
as Gopnik puts it, “the real demon in the machine is the tirelessness of the
user.” It is ourselves, not our technologies, that need disciplining.
Is Technology Neutral?
It may seem self-evident that, like any powerful tool, the Internet and the
forms of communication that have developed within it can used for good
or ill. As Secretary of State Hillary Clinton put it in a recent speech, “...on
their own, new technologies do not take sides in the struggle for freedom
and progress.”5 Social networking technologies can be used by students and
workers to organize a revolution or by governments to track the movements
of dissidents. They can be used by pastors to stay connected with former
youth group members who are now in college or by bullies to intensify harassment. Technology is neutral, the conventional wisdom seems to say—it
is how we use it that matters.
But there are dissenters from the technology-is-neutral argument and
not just from the Better-Never camp. A particularly compelling voice is that
of Jaron Lanier, a self-described “digital revolutionary” and a pioneer in virtual reality technology. Lanier speaks lovingly of the World Wide Web as a
near-miracle, born of cooperative, selfless, unremunerated work by millions
22
Technology and ministry
of people. “A sweet faith in human nature” undergirded the early days of
the web, Lanier remembers. “If we empowered individuals, we believed,
more good than harm would result.”6
Lanier’s disappointment in what the Internet has become, however, is
profound. He laments in particular the “torrent of petty designs” that flooded the web at the turn of the century. Web 2.0 technology, with its emphasis
on the collective, is anything but neutral, Lanier argues. In its most familiar
forms—Facebook, Twitter, Wikipedia—Web 2.0 designs enforce a reductive
view of human life, limited to what can be represented in a computer program: “one nation under a format,” as the novelist Zadie Smith put it in her
recent review of Lanier’s book.7 Of course, as Lanier notes, we reduce the
complexity of our lives all the time—when we fill out tax forms or medical forms, for example. In the case of a social networking service, though,
that information does something: it becomes the information with which we
reach out to others. It becomes the basis of new relationships. It is our presence online.
When we fit ourselves to the formats of Facebook and Twitter, Lanier
argues, we lessen ourselves to make those services seem accurate, even as
they de-personalize our communication with others, flatten out our voices,
and equip us with a diminished notion of “friendship.” Lanier compares
our willingness to diminish our individuality to fit the algorithms governing social-networking media to the pressure on teachers to teach to a standardized test so that their students will look good to an algorithm set by the
state. “The deep meaning of personhood,” he argues, “is being reduced by
illusions of bits.”8 This essay will explore in detail some implications of Lanier’s critical observations for the practice of ministry.
The Spiritual Failure of Technology
As more and more ministers and religious communities begin to marshal
the resources of Web 2.0 designs for ministry, Jaron Lanier’s voice is well
worth listening to, not least because he is speaking our language. “Being a
person,” he insists, “is not a pat formula, but a quest, a mystery, a leap of
faith.” He describes the failure of Web 2.0 technology as a “spiritual failure” that denies this mystery and leaves users of the technology no room
to express the dimensions of themselves that lie just out of reach, or the
unknowability that lies at the heart of even the most intimate relationships.
Web 2.0 designs encourage “fragmentary, impersonal communication” that
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23
celebrates anonymity and obscures the uniqueness of human voices. Online
chat sounds pretty much the same, Lanier argues, whether it is created by
poodle enthusiasts or jihadists. “A pack emerges,” he observes, “and either
you are with it or against it.”9 It’s no wonder that such diminished forms
of communication seem “to reinforce,” according to Lanier, “indifferent or
poor treatment of humans.” Read the comments section of almost any online article, and you will see what he means: comments quickly turn toxic as
anonymous respondents react to disagreements with insults. Designs that
elevate the crowd over individual humans, Lanier argues, evoke this kind
of behavior.
If Lanier sounds like an alarmist, consider this observation from a recent article on www.slate.com called “Is Facebook a Fad? What Social Networks Will Look Like in Five Years.” The author, Farhad Manjoo, observes
that we are constantly being urged, as we move about the web, to register
our “Likes” and to alert our social network to our preferences. Why? Because the “trail of Likes you’re leaving around the web forms a picture of
your deepest desires.” And when web companies know our deepest desires,
they will be able to aim content and advertising directly at them in order
draw us to their sites and to sell us things more effectively.10
The day we start believing that a “trail of Likes forms a picture of our
deepest desires” is the day that Jaron Lanier’s worst predictions will have
come true. We will have subordinated our desires to what is available on
a computer and reduced the dimensions of human longing to what can be
bought and sold.
Lanier calls for “a new digital humanism,” marked by designs that
“resonate with human kindness” in contrast to the current 2.0 designs that
do not, with their “pack dynamics” and reductive view of the human. He associates himself with humanistic traditions in computer science and names
among their practitioners Brian Cantwell Smith, son of the great historian
of religions, Wilfred Cantwell Smith. The Web 2.0 designs currently dominating the landscape of the Internet, he argues, are designs that became
“locked-in” at an early stage of development, before alternatives to them
could take shape. Lanier longs for a more humanistic technology that reflects the uniqueness of each person rather than regarding us as fragments
or “component[s] of an emerging global computer.”11 It is not too late, he
argues, to develop online designs that allow us to speak in our own voices about our relationships, our friendships, our “deepest desires.” Such designs would be marked by a modesty about what can be known and ex-
24
pressed about human beings in computer software. “That kind of modesty,”
he insists, “is the signature quality of being human-centered.”12
The Human Work of Ministry
The questions Lanier is asking about the place of the human within Web 2.0
technology and the kind of formation we receive through our engagement
with it should be our questions, too. It matters whether or not we believe
that our ‘Likes’ reflect our deepest desires, or whether the format of any
social networking tool can comprehend who we are, both as individuals
and in relation to other people. It matters whether or not we regard others,
and ourselves, as mysteries that cannot be fully known or described. It matters whether we believe a database can hold our lives or the lives of others
or whether our lives are held in God, who alone remembers all that we are
and might become. “There is right now a lot of talk about whether to believe in God or not,” Lanier writes, “but I suspect that religious arguments
are gradually incorporating coded debates about whether to even believe in
people anymore.”13
Ministry is such deeply human work. It is embodied and incarnational,
it unfolds over time, and it illuminates the connections between ordinary
life and the deepest, most unanswerable mysteries. Gregory the Great once
described pastoral ministry as “the art of arts” precisely because so much
is hidden from our view: “the wounds of the mind,” the motivations of the
heart, and the deepest human longings.14 Through his nuanced account of
offering pastoral care to people from every class, every social location, every
sensibility, every personality and history, Gregory insists that there is no format for ministry that transfers from one person to another, no grid that can
be placed over every situation. One size does not fit all: “what is profitable
to some,” he observes, “harms others.”15 Can we do this human work with
tools which require submission to a format, tools imbued with a limited
view of who we are and who might become?
It would be impossible, I think, to conduct one’s whole ministry in this
way. But, like some of the Better-Nevers described by Gopnik, ministers are
also pioneering a kind of “hybrid existence” that incorporates Web 2.0 technologies into their daily pastoral work. Blogs, Twitter feeds, Facebook pages—ministers and the communities they serve use these every day to reach
out to one another, to organize, to touch base, to alert one another to opportunities to gather face to face. What’s so bad about that?
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25
Although Lanier clearly longs for more humanistic designs to replace
Web 2.0, he does offer some suggestions for supporting a hybrid existence
in which we make use of Web 2.0 tools while resisting the tendency of those
tools to reduce us to “a source of fragments to be exploited by others.” These
practices emphasize the cultivation of individual identity, unique voice, interior life, and duration of thought. They include the following:
Don’t post anonymously unless you really might be in danger.
Create a website that expresses something about who you are that won’t
fit into the template available to you on a social networking site.
Post a video once in a while that took you one hundred times more time
to create than it takes to view.
Write a blog post that took weeks of reflection before you heard the inner
voice that needed to come out.
If you are twittering (tweeting), innovate in order to find a way to describe your internal state instead of trivial external events, to avoid the
creeping danger of believing that objectively described events describe
you, as they would define a machine.16
Reading Lanier’s list made me wonder what such a list would look like for
ministers trying to harness the tremendous power and popularity of Web
2.0 technology for the practice of ministry while also trying to resist that
technology’s tendency towards distraction, speed, and the flattening out
of voice and identity. Those who are more deeply involved in the intersection of technology and ministry no doubt have already developed their own
lists. Here are a few suggestions to add to the conversation.
Engaging Technology in Ministry
In her recent book, Dreaming of Eden: American Religion and Politics in a Wired
World, Susan Brooks Thistlethwaite argues that “those Americans who don’t
understand the religious power of this time as it is generated in blogs, movies, graphic novels, Twitter, Facebook, and cable television (to name just a
few digitized sources of image and story) will be left in the dust, religiously and politically speaking.”17 Lanier would want to distinguish between
movies, graphic novels, and cable television which embody the distinctive
visions of their creators and the Web 2.0 designs of blogs, Twitter and Facebook, which offer fragmented collective communication. Certainly, though,
Thistlethwaite captures the anxiety felt by many religious leaders about be-
26
ing “left in the dust” if we don’t figure out how to engage the technology
that is driving so much communication in our world.
Digital Reach
The emphasis of Web 2.0 designs on social networking would seem to make
them a natural resource for religious communities who also want to reach
people and bring them together. Some churches use Facebook and Twitter as
modes of invitation to gatherings for service, worship, and fellowship. Some
pastors use Web 2.0 technologies to help them “share a distributed, de-centered practice of ministry that values the contributions of others.”18 There
are churches that encourage the congregation to tweet during the service as
a way of enlarging the circle of fellowship and spreading the message of the
gospel outside the walls of the church. Others project the tweets coming out
of their service on a screen at the front, so everyone can see what others are
thinking and wondering during worship.
If we’re using Facebook and Twitter like an electronic bulletin board to
let people know where to gather to meet others, to serve a meal at a shelter,
to join in a Taizé liturgy, or to come to a picnic; the emphasis tilts much more
towards the specific, embodied activities to which people are being invited
than the technology itself. But if we are seeking to cultivate what Elizabeth
Drescher calls “social and spiritual interactivity”19 via our Twitter feed or
Facebook page or encouraging our congregation to tweet during the sermon, then it will be important to ask questions about how technology might
be silently shaping us and those with whom we minister. What vision of the
human do these practices implicitly bear within them?
Personal Formation
The question Lanier would urge us to ask of all of these practices is: what
kind of person is being formed through them? The following questions will
be particularly necessary when Web 2.0 technology is used in supervision
for ministry. They are questions not only for supervisors but for students
as well. How is the “social and spiritual interactivity” we cultivate on the
web different from the social and spiritual interactions we have face to face?
Do they complement each other—compete with each other? Does one seem
easier than the other? Do we put more time in one than another? Are our
choices about how to spend our time driven by the demands of a particular
technology?
When Lanier gives lectures at colleges and universities, he urges the
students not to blog or tweet while listening to him. “If you listen first, and
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27
write later, then whatever you write will have had time to filter through
your brain, and you’ll be in what you say. This is what makes you exist. If
you are only a reflector of information, are you really there?”20
When we encourage our congregations to tweet during worship, what
kind of worshippers are being formed? Are they like satellites from which
the “information” of the service bounces out to the wider world? Is that their
purpose? When we tweet in worship, are we really there? As a student recently explained to me, for some, tweeting is like taking notes on a sermon—
a way of engaging what is going on more deeply. For others, tweeting helps
them feel the presence of those outside the doors of the church—but there
is so much that happens in worship, both inside us and outside of us, that
cannot be said in 140 characters. Indeed, there is so much that happens that
cannot be said at all. Tweeting in worship will keep us alert for images and
insights that can be expressed in a few, abbreviated words; but it might also
make it difficult to reflect upon experiences in worship that lie beyond the
reach of language.
Cultivating Deep Possibilities
One of the most compelling visions of Christian worship and Christian service that I’ve experienced recently is Xavier Beauvois’ film about the Trappist monks who were killed in Algeria during the civil war in the mid-1990s,
Of Gods and Men. When the monks were with the villagers with whom they
shared their lives, they were wholly with them: sitting close, listening carefully, entirely engaged. When they were together in church, they were wholly there, praying with their whole hearts, lifting the fears and hopes of those
with whom they ministered to God; and when they were together, trying
to figure out whether to stay in Algeria or return to safety in France, they
focused on each other, even when they were angry or frustrated or fearful.
It’s one of the most striking things about the film: the monks do one thing
at a time, deliberately and with attention. When someone needs medical
care, they provide it. When the village celebrates a young boy’s rite of passage, they celebrate. When it is time to worship God, they worship God with
their whole hearts. When an illiterate woman needs help filling out a form,
a monk slowly and carefully fills it out for her. It is in this slow, deliberate
approach to their ordinary life, even more than in their martyrdom, that the
extraordinary depths of their humanity are revealed.
There are so few places to go in our culture to explore and cultivate
the deepest possibilities our humanity holds. Occasionally, a movie theater
28
can be that place, or a classroom, or an art museum. Religious communities
have long been such places. From worship marked by long silences to services marked by boisterous, exuberant praise, churches have been places to
gather up our attention and turn it towards our life with God, places to come
to new understandings of who we are as human beings. If church becomes
another place to multitask, will such exploration still be possible?
Hybrid Living: Sustained Attention and Efficient Multitasking
Wen Stephenson, in describing the “hybrid existence” he hopes to live, calls
for “a new kind of self-discipline, a willed and practiced ability to focus, in a
purposeful and almost meditative sense—to step away from the network and
seek stillness, immersion.”21 His longing for a “hybrid existence” that cultivates his capacity for attention is a longing that ministers would be wrong to
dismiss as old-fashioned. For those who seek a “hybrid existence,” it is necessary to offer opportunities for sustained, contemplative engagement with
the world in order to form people with the capacity to be present to God and
others, not just the capacity to do several things at once. These are people who
are worried about how the technology they use is forming them as human
beings, people who are seeking attentive ways of living in the midst of the
current technological revolution. Religious communities carry a great deal of
wisdom about how to remain humanly present in the midst of great change;
how to live out of our connections with others not only across space but also
across time; how to live compassionately and attentively at the intersection
of solitude and community; how to say ‘no’ in order to say a more spacious
‘yes.’ No matter what we’re doing on Facebook and Twitter, we must also offer spaces to explore and share the wisdom from our traditions of how to live
in the most human ways.
Resisting Distraction
The phenomenon of distraction did not enter human life with the Internet, of
course. Human distraction has a long history, and religious traditions have
a long history of addressing it. Reading, meditation, prayer, contemplation,
service, worship—all of these religious practices require the ability to open
our attention to something other than ourselves and have the potential to
develop and deepen that ability. Simone Weil put it most clearly when she
insisted that, without the capacity for sustained attention, we can neither
pray nor be truly present to our suffering neighbor.22
Our wired lives pose unprecedented challenges to the human quest to
cultivate the capacity for attention. Indeed, distraction seems to be the de-
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fault setting of the wired world. Emails appear in the corner of our screens
while we are working on other things, bells sound to remind us of upcoming
appointments, the vast carnival of the Internet beckons when we lose momentum in whatever we’re doing and sometimes prevents us from working up any momentum at all. Resisting the pull of any of these requires
conscious practices, active choices. We can turn off the bells and disable the
application that makes emails arise, unbidden, in the corner of our screens;
but we have to choose to do so. The pull of the Internet is a problem of a different magnitude, but requires the same kind of conscious choice in order
to resist.
A minister told me recently how much he admires his senior pastor’s
ability to practice ministry via Facebook. College students stay connected
with their home congregation; young professionals reach out to their pastor
in the middle of their work days. The only downside, the minister told me,
is that the senior pastor is always checking her phone to see if there’s been
any Facebook activity, even during staff meetings.
The minister who checks her Facebook page during staff meetings is
a minister whose mind is always going to her Facebook page. Although I
don’t have a Facebook page, I know this feeling well. It is difficult to walk by
a computer without wanting to check my email. Sometimes, when I am in
class or in a meeting, I will think of the email piling up in my inbox and feel
impatient to get back to it so it doesn’t rise to unmanageable levels. (And
sometimes, I catch a glimpse of how absurd that feeling is!)
Disciplining the Divided Mind
The problem of the divided mind is a human problem with a long history
that predates email and Facebook by millennia. Christians, Buddhists, Hindus and many other religious practitioners have developed ways of cultivating the kind of sustained attention needed for prayer, friendship, worship,
pastoral care: memorizing scripture, paying attention to the breath, yoga, repeating a mantra, praying the Jesus Prayer, reading prayerfully. Simone Weil
once wrote about trying to pray the Lord’s Prayer with absolute attention.
First, she learned the prayer in Greek so that she wouldn’t fall into unmindful recitation of words she knew well. Then she would start to pray until her
attention began to flag. When that happened, she would start over—and
over and over and over. The point of this was to learn to be wholly present
in prayer, a capacity Weil believed would also bear fruit in human relationships, especially with suffering people.
30
These days we call distraction “multitasking” and some people now
argue that, in our wired world, “the truly wise mind will harness, rather
than abandon, the power of distraction.”
It’s possible that we’re all evolving toward a new techno-cognitive nomadism, a rapidly shifting environment in which restlessness will be an
advantage again. The deep focusers might even be hampered by having
too much attention: Attenion Surfeit Hypoactivity Disorder.23
It is becoming fashionable in some quarters to make these kinds of arguments. Why worry about the erosion of our capacity for attention? The economy born of the wired world will require the kinds of skills we develop
when we divide our attention among many tasks.
No matter what kinds of skills are being rewarded in the economy,
however, ministry remains work that requires the ability to focus on something outside oneself for extended periods of time, in interactions with other people, in prayer, in study, in the cultivation of friendship, in the sharing of meals, in advocacy. A divided mind is not an asset in ministry. If we
are conducting our ministry both face-to-face and on Facebook, it will be
important to be always practicing the gathering of our attention into one
place.
Tolle, lege: Reading as a Practice of Ministry
Recently I read an article about a public school district in Maine buying an
iPad 2 for all children who will enter kindergarten in the fall. The Superintendent of the School, Tom Morrill, justified the high-end purchase by saying, “What we’re seeing is that this is an essential tool—even more important than a book.”24
The loss of our ability to become absorbed in long, complex books, to
read deeply and immersively is one of the fears Gopnik’s Better-Nevers often express—I share this fear. If we teach kindergartners that an iPad is more
essential to their education than a book, it won’t be very long before reading becomes a practice of a specialized elite in our culture—and that would
be a tragedy. The practice of reading is a human inheritance that belongs to
everyone, a doorway to deep, creative, generative thought that anyone can
enter. For Christians, Jews, Muslims, and many other religious practitioners,
the practice of reading is also a part of our religious inheritance. Through
reading, the literacy scholar Maryanne Wolf notes, “we learn both the commonality and the uniqueness of our own thoughts—that we are individuals,
but not alone.”
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The moment this happens, we are no longer limited by the confines of
our own thinking. Wherever they were set, our original boundaries are
challenged, teased, and gradually placed somewhere new. An expanding
sense of ‘other’ changes who we are, and, most importantly for children,
what we imagine we can be.25
The view of the human being in this description of the practice of reading
is marked by the complex relations between the individual and others, the
importance of a unique voice, the cultivation of interior life, and an emphasis
on duration of thought and experience—the same concerns Lanier flagged in
his practical suggestions for cultivating a hybrid existence with the technology we use that keeps a complex view of the human visible. The practice
of reading can help us resist the fragmentation of time and of ourselves,
teach us to allow resonances to accumulate slowly to some greater meaning, help us hear our own inner voice, and open a space within which we
might change.
Reading is often pitted against the use of technology, not only by the
Better-Nevers but also by the Never-Betters like Clay Shirky who, in response to a lament that it was harder to gather the kind of attention to read
a novel like War and Peace than it used to be, asserted that “the reading public has increasingly decided that Tolstoy’s sacred work isn’t actually worth
the time it takes to read it.”26 In short, we don’t need long novels anymore;
we have the Internet. “The only reason we used to read big long novels before the advent of the Internet,” Jim Holt writes, paraphrasing Shirky, “was
because we were living in an information-impoverished environment. Our
‘pleasure cycles’ are now tied to the web.”27
Ministers and religious practitioners seeking a fruitful hybrid existence
between our online and offline lives need to resist Shirky-esque visions of a
world in which we no longer need to read books because the Internet meets
all of our information needs. Reading is a deeply formative practice: it “rearranges,” writes Wolf, “the length and breadth of the brain.”28 We do more
than consume information when we read; we meet ourselves and others in
ways that change us. As Wolf puts it, “the new circuits and pathways that
the brain fashions in order to read become the foundation for being able to
think in different, innovative ways.”29 Using Twitter and Facebook to encourage the practice of reading, to communicate about what we are reading
and how it is affecting the way we view ourselves, the world, and God is
one way to bring those disparate worlds together, to lift up a complex view
32
of the human being, and to resist the reductive ideology of the human that
the technologies themselves embody.
Conclusion
In his discussion of the ways in which web designs become locked-in well
before they are fully thought through, Lanier issues this warning: “If you
love a medium made of software, there’s a danger that you will become entrapped in someone else’s recent careless thoughts. Struggle against that!”30
As many gifted and creative ministers are teaching us, Web 2.0 technology
can be a powerful tool for ministry in many of its forms—organizing, advocacy, the enlargement of the circle of conversation and care. Lanier reminds
us, though, that, like any tool, Web 2.0 technology needs constant evaluation and critique. As long as the technology available to us requires us to
reduce ourselves to use it, as long as the vision of the human embedded in
it is limited to what can be captured in a questionnaire, and as long as the
information we give it about ourselves is used to sell us things, we will need
to struggle against it, even as we use it. Perhaps, as ministers bend Web 2.0
technology towards the deeply human practice of ministry, the technology
itself will begin to change and new, more humanistic designs, better-suited
to the practice of ministry as the art of arts, will emerge.
NOTES
1.
I am grateful to Tyler Zoanni, a Master of Divinity student at Harvard Divinity School,
for discussing the ideas in this article with me and challenging me in several important ways and to Kevin Madigan, my first reader, who made key suggestions for improvement. The quotation at the beginning of this essay is from Jaron Lanier, You Are
Not a Gadget: A Manifesto (New York: Knopf, 2010), 36.
2.
Adam Gopnik, “The Information: How the Internet Gets Inside Us,” The New Yorker
(Feb. 14, 2011): 124–130.
3.
Sven Birkerts, The Gutenberg Elegies: The Fate of Reading in an Electronic Age (Boston,
MA: Faber & Faber, 1994), 216.
4.
Wen Stephenson, “The Internet Ate My Brain,” The Boston Globe (June 6, 2010): http://
articles.boston.com/2010-06-06/ae/29295676_1_cognitive-stimuli-rapid-alterationsdigital-media (Last accessed on April 18, 2011).
5.
Hillary Rodham Clinton, “Remarks on Internet Freedom”: http://www.state.gov/
secretary/rm/2010/01/135519.htm (Last accessed on April 18, 2011).
6.
Lanier, 14.
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33
7.
Zadie Smith, “Generation Why?” The New York Review of Books (November 25, 2010):
http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archives/2010/nov/25/generation-why/ (Last
accessed April 18, 2011).
8.
Lanier, 20.
9.
Ibid., 62.
10. Farhad Manjoo, “Is Facebook a Fad?: What Social Networks Will Look Like in Five
Years,” Slate (March 31, 2011): http://www.slate.com/id/2290039/ (Last accessed
April 13, 2011).
11. Jaron Lanier, “The End of Human Specialness,” The Chronicle of Higher Education (August 29, 2010): http://chronicle.com/article/The-End-of-Human-Specialness/124124/
(Last accessed April 18, 2011).
12. Lanier, You Are Not a Gadget, 53.
13. Lanier, “The End of Human Specialness.”
14. Henry Davis, SJ, trans. Gregory the Great, Pastoral Care (New York: Newman Press,
1950), 21.
15. Ibid., 89.
16. Lanier, 21.
17. Susan Brooks Thistlethwaite, Dreaming of Eden: American Religion and Politics in a Wired
World (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010), 6.
18. Elizabeth Drescher, “Facebook Doesn’t Kill Churches, Churches Kill Churches,”
March 16, 2011: http://www.religiondispatches.org/archive/atheologies/4390/facebook_doesnt_kill_churches,_churches_kill_churches (Last accessed April 18, 2011).
19. Ibid.
20. Lanier, “The End of Human Specialness.”
21. Stephenson, “The Internet Ate My Brain.”
22. Simone Weil, “On the Right Use of School Studies with a View to the Love of God,” in
Waiting for God, Emma Craufurd, trans. (New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1951), 57–65.
23. Sam Anderson, “In Defense of Distraction,” New York Magazine (May 17, 2009): http://
nymag.com/print/?/news/features/56793 (Last accessed April 18, 2011).
24. “Auburn School District Decides All Kindergartners Need iPad 2 (VIDEO)”: http://
www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/01/09/maine-ipad2-kindergarten_n_846948.html
(Last accessed April 13, 2011).
25. Maryanne Wolf, Proust and the Squid: The Story and Science of the Reading Brain (New
York: Harper Perennial, 2007), 8.
26. Quoted in Jim Holt, “Smarter, Happier, More Productive,” The London Review of Books
33:5 (March 3, 2011): 9–12.
27. Ibid.
34
28. Wolf, 64.
29. Ibid., 217
30. Lanier, You Are Not a Gadget, 22.
Theme for Volume 32 of Reflective Practice
VIRTUES IN FORMATION AND SUPERVISION
A virtue is a well-established disposition or character trait guiding thought
and action. To possess a virtue is to be a certain sort of person with a particular state of mind. Classically, virtue is the perfection of a capacity like
trust or courage. The capacity is universal, but its internalization is a matter
of individual cultivation. Virtues have to do with moving toward the fullest
potential of being human. Therefore, because we believe that a discussion
about virtues needs to be part of any conversation regarding the preparation of present and future religious leaders, the Editorial Board has chosen
as its theme for Volume 32: Virtues in Formation and Supervision.
• To what extent formation and/or supervision for religious leadership is, or
should be, virtue forming processes?
• Are virtues formed or are they something that is already present within an individual simply needing to be evoked and nurtured?
• How does the nature and practice of being virtuous change across cultures or
across time in the same culture?
• Are there particular virtues that are especially necessary for the practice of religious leadership in the 21st century?
• If virtues can be formed, how are they encouraged or by what processes are
they formed?
• How do the virtues of a supervisor affect the process of developing virtues in
and through supervision?
• What is the relation between emotions and virtues; between character traits and
virtues; between values and virtues?
• Are there particular virtues that need to be developed to energize and enable
caring action?
Because this Journal is now available electronically across the globe, we hope
that people will write about formation and supervision from their context in order that we may all be enriched by a diversity of perspectives. Proposals are welcome any time. Articles should be submitted electronically to Herbert Anderson,
Editor, at handerson@plts.edu, by January 31, 2012 for inclusion in Volume 32.
Shifting Sensibilities:
Some Consequences of Digital Technology
Robert S. Fortner
Faith in the Digital Age
The digital age that we have entered is moving rapidly toward ubiquitous
technology. Even toasters now have electronic circuits. Greg Shapley writes,
“The history of the human being is the history of technology—of the production of interfaces to interact and communicate with each other and the
rest of the physical world,” so now we have entered a new phase of existence.1 What does this all mean for faith and religious practice—if anything?
The first thing we have to recognize is that this is not merely another change
in the long road of progress. Engagement with digital systems is fundamentally different than engaging analog systems. Let me provide a simple example. Imagine that you are in a conversation with a church member that
is very personal and that has been going on for several minutes. It’s about a
problem with her teenage daughter. She’s explained the change in her rela-
Robert Fortner, PhD, is a research scholar in the Institute of Communications Research
at the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign, IL and executive director of the International Center for Media Studies, 2025 E. Beltline SE, Suite 304, Grand Rapids, MI 49546
(Email: rfortner@center4media.org).
36
SHIFTING SENSIBILITIES
tionship with her daughter and her daughter’s new moodiness, the sudden
spurts of anger, the refusal to do her homework, and so on. The mother is
out of work and has no health insurance. She asks, “Is a psychiatrist worth
what it will cost me?” Just as she asks the question, another parishioner, a
divorcee, bursts into your office. Hearing the question, she blurts out: “My
ex is a psychiatrist, and he’s a worthless bum.”
The conversation you were having with the mother was analog in nature; it was continuous; it rose and fell, became intense and then calmed. Its
emotional content varied—it was an analog of your, and her, internal state—
but the divorcee treated the conversation as though it were digital. She had
no context for her remark other than the one sentence she overheard. She
treated that content as though it contained all the information she needed
to understand the situation—or perhaps she thought she was being clever
or funny. In any case, she inserted her comment as though it had a certain
import, but the meaning you or the mother took from it would be entirely
different. This is the direction of our current culture. Information is available
in bursts of disconnected data that can be combined and recombined at will,
without context, and with nuance left to the mind of the beholder.
The basic shift in sensibility required to function appropriately in this
new cultural context has a variety of implications, not only for people living
their individual lives, but also for community and relationships, for worship and religious practices. It is both social and psychological, and it is
potentially theological. Why? Erik Davis states, “The moment we invent a
significant new device for communication—talking drums, papyrus scrolls,
printed books, crystal [radio] sets, computers, pagers—we partially reconstruct the self and its world, creating new opportunities (and new traps) for
thought, perception, and social experience.”2
I would argue that one reason it is more difficult to convince people
(especially teenagers) that they should not use cell phones for either voice or
text while they drive is that they are creatures of the digital age. They can’t
help it. They see the world with digital eyes: things are not continuous (analog); they are discrete (digital). Texting and driving are two completely different and unrelated activities. So why should doing the one affect doing the
other? History is not a long series of connected, cause-and-effect events, but
something you look up when you need it on Wikipedia. Parents’ warnings
are no more authoritative than one’s own desires or the advice that comes
from a peer group—and the peers are probably seen as more relevant and
engaged. They share a perspective on the world that is subjective, biased,
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and not the result of wisdom gained over time, through professional education, or by the observation of consequences. This is not entirely new, of
course. We all disobeyed parents’ strictures from time-to-time. The generation gap goes back at least fifty years, but in the new digital age, the prevailing philosophy defends and legitimizes such refusals. When parents lament
that “I gave you birth, raised you, cared for you,” as though that merits
some special consideration (as it would in an analog universe), it rings hollow in the digital age where mistakes are as easily erased as the pops and
clicks of long-playing records in the transfer to a compact disc.
Identity in the Digital Age
Where does identity come from in such a world? We haven’t wiped out the
significance of DNA, or the role of parenting and church life altogether, but
these “inputs” are just that—signals to be combined with other inputs that
have equal or greater force, or simply shunted aside. It used to be difficult
and exacting work to edit sound or image in the analog world. Everything
would have to be just right for the splice not to be heard or seen. Now the
analog sentence can be cut up and reassembled word by word, or syllable
by syllable, remixed and processed in such a way that a person can be made
to say just about anything. Jump-cuts in images can be smoothed over with
slick transitions, cutaway images, or changing speed such that it also becomes unnoticeable. We do the same thing in deciding who we are. We take
the bits and pieces of a thousand different inputs, treat them all as equal,
and create an ever-changing, dynamic, pastiche identity that can be represented in various contexts as corporeal or virtual avatars—representation is
everything.
In the Reformed Christian tradition, pastors were often referred to as
“domini.” They had an authority based on theological education and the imprimatur of ordination that demanded they be taken seriously. In the church
today, this sensibility probably continues to hold sway—because the church
is aging and those who stick with it are largely from the generations that
accepted this role. But churches that continue in this vein often see their
young people departing in droves—sometimes to other types of worship
experiences and, sometimes, to none at all. People fret about this and blame
the type of music sung in services, the lack of on-screen lyrics, the fact that
the elders don’t seem to be interested in young people and that worship
committees exclude them from participation. But the problem may merely
38
be that the role of the church in the lives of young people is just one input
among many, and the domini-logic of the church is a square peg that is easy
to abandon in a world of round holes. Young people are less denominationbound, less tradition-bound, and less hierarchical in their thinking because
they are digital in orientation, while the church continues its analog practices. Churches that attract such young people are “relevant,” which really
means that the pastors and staff are relationally driven, not theologically
driven. (They may be both, of course, but it is the former rather than the latter that is the draw.)
Marshall McLuhan once wrote about the impact of radio on young
people that it “retribalized” them. Once FM radio developed as a clear alternative to AM in the mid-1960s and formats began to develop that allowed
people to select a station on the basis of the type of music it played (its format) or the sorts of talk that would be heard, people could organize themselves into tribes that reflected the music that inspired them. We got punks,
Goths, preppies, grungers, and rednecks. Some such groups were there before, but their personas took on new dimensions when they adopted particular musical styles. TV and film helped as well. Out of TV came the Trekkies. Film gave us Wookieepedia and the Jedi religion. These are all analog
connections. But the website that allows you to select a fifteen-second clip of
Star Wars: A New Hope to reshoot so that a new movie can be created (www.
starwarsuncut.com) is digital. So are music remixes and novels written on
Twitter;3 so is the ability to be part of multiple communities with multiple
personas, sometimes made up entirely of strangers—to be dynamic with
one’s identity. This is the new sensibility.
The Confusion of Public and Private
The development of the ability to compartmentalize that has been encouraged by our move into the digital age has many important consequences. I
want to discuss only two of them here. First is the impact on our sense of
public and private. By now we have all heard the stories of people who lost
opportunities for love or employment when someone googled their Facebook page or searched for their name on YouTube. Facebook has actually
resisted the call of privacy advocates to change its policies because, it says,
people just don’t care about privacy. The Internet has allowed us all to become voyeurs—if we so choose. And now we learn that over two-thirds of
people in China use their mobile telephones “in the loo.” In Australia, 10
Fortner
39
percent of people use mobile phones during worship services and 16 percent while making love.4 Talk about multitasking. In such a world, the distinctions between public and private begin to become ludicrous.
Joshua Meyrowitz warned of the tendencies to confuse front-stage and
back-stage behaviors as a result of television’s bringing people into places
where they had previously been denied entry—women into men’s locker
rooms or children into their parents’ bedrooms where punishment was discussed for the child’s infractions.5 Kenneth Gergen picked up on Meyrowitz’s idea and expanded it to include other technologies that led, he said, to
the “saturated self.”6 The Internet provides not only full saturation, but the
implied invitation to share more and more of one’s self with the world, either piecemeal or in one gulp—and, more likely, in both. It also provides the
illusion that we can control the level of saturation by constructing multiple
selves sharable on multiple sites with different sets of others, and that there
is no necessity to think of the self as a grounded, authentic single entity. It
is, instead, one comprised of multiple strands of identity that can be twisted
into a multitude of shapes as occasions require.
In addition to this, the digital self combines quite nicely with the postmodern sensibility that questions all authority. No interpretation is sacred,
unalterable, or superior to any other. If we take this perspective to its logical
end, the result is the death of the meta-narrative—the great myths (including Christianity) that provide shape to our lives and world, provide an interpretive frame within which to understand existence, and give meaning
to existence. “Why believe the Bible?” this logic would say. Why not simply pick and choose from any text (sacred or secular, fiction or nonfiction)
that fits the existential moment and the requirements of that moment? In
the digital post-modern world there is no easy answer to that, as all authority has been leveled. Faith is made shallow, changeable, responsive only to
exigency.
The Relation of People to Space
The second implication, if that weren’t enough, affects the church even more
directly. It has to do with the relationship of people to sacred space. There
are surely different types of worship spaces in America, from the National
Cathedral, to storefront churches, to tent meetings. They each have a purpose. Some spaces have baptismal bowls, some pools. Some have enormous
pipe organs, and others depend merely on the simple guitar. The conduct
40
of worship likewise differs, from high liturgy, to ecstatic dancing, and loud
“Amens.” Some churches center on iconography or emphasize the need for a
mediator to reach a holy God. Others consider God a brother or best friend—
an approachable confidant who is dependable in a pinch. But until now, all
such worship services in all such spaces did share one characteristic: people
entered into them because tradition, or calling, or curiosity, compelled them
to do so. Although such spaces might be used for other activities during the
week, on Sunday (or Saturday, if one was Adventist) the space became the
gathering place of God’s people who had come to worship.
But the digital age, in addition to pulling people into its logic, also allows people to push messages out to others. And just as preachers hailed the
coming of the telegraph as God’s gift to reach the world, some now promote
digital connections, via laptops and mobile telephones, to extend worship
(or at least a taste of it) to the outside world in real time. There is no more
waiting for the sermon to be posted to the web or the church newsletter to
make it into homes via snail-mail; now the goal is immediate real-time connection. If we can’t bring Muhammad to the mountain, then we’ll take the
mountain to Muhammad.
Pastors now encourage those in worship services to “reach out” with
Facebook and Twitter to those who are not present—even as the service proceeds, as the word is preached. Tom Leonard writes, “The sight of churchgoers typing messages into mobile phones during a service is becoming an
increasingly common sight as clergy seek new ways of reversing declining
attendance figures.”7 A North Carolina church, he says, holds “Twitterfests,”
advising its members: “If God leads you to continue this as a form of worship, by all means do it.” “Trinity Church, the venerable Episcopal church
on Wall Street in New York,” writes Leonard, “used Twitter last month to
perform the story of Christ over Easter.”8
The Church in the Digital Age
What will be on the agenda of the church council as a result? Should wireless
be extended into the sanctuary? Is “Facebooking” during a worship service
sacrilegious? Does reaching out horizontally to the world during worship
diminish the vertical connection with God that the service aims to provide?
What is the most important thing going on here—relating to God or relating
to one’s friends? Every pastor or church council that has not yet faced these
questions will have to do so in the near future.
Fortner
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For every proposal that purports to open the portals of the church to
the outside—taking worship there rather than inviting them here—there are
both positive and negative consequences. “Go into all the world” seems a
no-brainer. Of course, of course; but it also has the potential to limit the “fellowship of the saints,” since those in the pews may be there only in body,
with their minds compartmentalizing the world into the part that is “in
church” and the part that is cocooning with friends in the outside world.
Those sitting in the pews could be “tangled up” outside.9
But recall that worship services are analog—they progress; they have
an order chockablock with meaning; they are linear. The message is attached
to the Scripture, attached to the hymn, attached to the congregational prayer
(at least in many traditions). A tweet doesn’t capture that; a thirty-second
video posted on YouTube or a photo pasted into Facebook doesn’t either.
They make the worship service like the proverbial vacation captured for review at a later date—but always as a pale imitation of itself.
Our culture, as a result of the development of digital technologies, has
provided wonderful opportunities for education, interactive communication, entertainment, and continuing connection with distant others. None of
us, I suspect, would be quick to give up our digital lifelines, but, as with so
many other technologies developed in the last century, there are many questions that we have yet adequately to address. Yet address them we must. We
will not do so uniformly, I suspect, and the result will be that those who answer Pilate’s famous question, “What is truth?” in a way that accords with
the digital culture’s biases will thrive, while those who are at odds with it
will struggle. But we should never lose sight of what Gérard Vincent has
written, “In a totalitarian regime all barriers between private life and public
life seem to be broken down.”10 And this creates certain dynamics that the
church will have to deal with in the coming days.
There are enormous questions for orthodoxy raised by these developments. What constituted orthodoxy in an analog culture—continuity, consistency, constancy, collective wisdom, and creeds—is not the orthodoxy of
the digital age. In this new culture, it is convenience, relationship, speed,
access, ubiquity, freedom, interactivity, irreverence, and technical sophistication that attract adherents. Can these two cultures—each with its own distinctive axis—be reconciled by the church; or must some expressions of the
Christian faith be marginalized that others might grow? Is the digital culture
more in tune with the ecstasy of the Pentecostal tradition or the good order
of the Reformation?
42
NOTES
1.
Greg Shapley, “The Re-Wiring of History,” M/C Journal 12/3 (2009): http://journal.
media-culture.org.au/index.php/mdjournal/article/view/148 (Last accessed May 3,
2010).
2.
Erik Davis, TechGnosis: Myth, Magic, and Mysticism in the Age of Information (London:
Serpents Tail, 1999).
3.
See www.twitip.com/how-to-start-a-twitter-novel (Last accessed May 4, 2010).
4.
“Mobile Use: In the ‘Loo,’ Library, Funerals”: www.msnbc.msn.com/id/28896384/
ns/technology_and_science-wireless (Last accessed May 4, 2010).
5.
Joshua Meyrowitz, No Sense of Place: The Impact of Electronic Media on Social Behavior
(New York: Oxford University Press, 1985).
6.
Kenneth Gergen, The Saturated Self: Dilemmas of Identity in Contemporary Life (New
York: Basic Books, 2000).
7.
Tom Leonard, “U.S. Churches Use Twitter to Reach a Wider Audience,” The Telegraph
(London), May 4, 2009: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/technology/twitter/5274071/
US-churches-use-Twitter-to-reach-a-wider-audience.html (Last accessed May 4, 2010).
8.
Ibid.; see also Paul Vitello, “Lead Us to Tweet, and Forgive the Trespassers,”
New York Times, July 5, 2009: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/05/technology/
internet/05twitter.html (Last accessed May 4, 2010).
9.
See the www.tangle.com website, “an online community for Christians.”
10. Gérard Vincent, “A History of Secrets?” in A History of Private Life: Riddles of Identity in Modern Times, Antoine Proust and Gérard Vincent, eds., Arthur Goldhammer,
trans. (Cambridge, MA: Belknap, 1991), 145–281.
Jacques Ellul’s The Technological Society Re-Visited
John A. Coleman
I was asked by the editor of Reflective Practice to pen an essay commenting
on Jacques Ellul’s classic book, The Technological Society, originally published
as La Technique in 1954.1 The concern of the editor was with how Ellul’s argument holds up nearly 57 years later. There is one slight misnomer in the
“re-visited” title that I give to this essay. In point of fact—and in retrospect,
a little surprising to me—I did not read The Technological Society when I was
doing my doctoral studies in sociology in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s—
despite the fact that the English edition carried an introduction by the distinguished sociologist, Robert K. Merton. Various of Ellul’s ideas rattled
around some of my sociological classes at that time but, for some reason,
I never picked up on his work. I was more taken at that time by two other,
somewhat cognate and more hopeful books about technology and modern
life: Lewis Mumford’s Techniques and Civilization2 and Ivan Illich’s Tools for
Conviviality.3
John A. Coleman, SJ, Casassa Professor of Social Values Emeritus, Loyola Marymount
University, One LMU Dr., Los Angeles, CA 90045–4400 (Email: jacoleman@usfca.edu).
44
Jacques Ellul’s The Technological Society re-visited
After finishing my doctorate in sociology, I did a post-doctoral year in
theological ethics at the University of Chicago. Gibson Winter, who taught
there at the time, was a great fan of Ellul (and, behind Ellul, the influence
of Heidegger). Ellul is a bit hard to type, academically. He was profoundly
influenced by Karl Barth and was self-consciously a Christian, albeit an ecumenical one. Many of his books are best-termed theological. Technically,
his position at the University of Bordeaux, where he served as a professor,
was in philosophy. Yet in The Technological Society, Ellul eschews any explicit
theological stance. He describes himself in that book as engaging primarily
in sociological reflection. Perhaps, one apt way to describe the book is to say
it is a dazzling phenomenology of the technical state of mind. Yet, in truth, I
only just got around to reading The Technological Society.
To the question of how does Ellul’s argument stand up, I have one
short answer—despite many changes in the last fifty years (surprisingly, Ellul did foresee the information explosion and something like an Internet, as
well as biotechnology), Ellul is not particularly dated because of new developments. Again as a summary judgment, any flaws in Ellul’s argument (I
will suggest one glaring one) as we read him now were there equally sixty
years ago. As it turns out, reading Ellul today fits closely with a current intellectual project of mine: How to relate moral thinking with sociological
structures and the new forms of a networked society?
For those who have not read The Technological Society, it is an enormously learned and, in places, densely written book and it has a clear and,
on the face of it, compelling argument. By technique, Ellul did not mean just
machines. Rather, as his translator put it: “Technique is the totality of methods rationally arrived at and having absolute efficiency.” Another way of
looking at technique is to see it as the ensemble of practices by which one
uses available resources to achieve values. Ellul seems to refer to technique
as the entire pre-determined complex of standardization of means. For Ellul, technique applies not just to the economy or the state, but to leisure activities, bodily regimes, regulations, psychoanalysis, management and organization, human technique, information, and etc. “Nothing at all escapes
technique today.”4
The Technological Society is, in no way, an optimistic book. It is an almost harrowing inspection of the rise of modern technological society since
the industrial revolution, which allows little lee-way for effective agency to
control its excesses. It is a book that is almost deterministic and, even, fatalistic. In part, Ellul states that he “deliberately refrained from providing solu-
Coleman
45
tions,” even though lurking throughout the book is the question of how to
resist and transcend technological determinisms. To be sure, in his introduction,5 Ellul does admit that he believes in human agency, but “the individual’s acts or ideas do not here and now exert any influence on social, political,
economic mechanisms.” There has been an “application of technique to all
spheres of life.” So, “at present, there is no counterbalance to technique.”6
In earlier societies, before the industrial revolution, there were built-in
limitations to techniques. Techniques remained local and were constrained
by what may now be called “the inefficiencies,” which are caused by deeprooted loyalties to family, religion, culture, public opinion, and a prevailing
morality. But once capitalism arose in its industrial forms, technique came to
spread from economy to society to all spheres of modern life. The technical
mind, Ellul argues, has a built-in totalitarian tendency toward centralizing
varying sub-sections of technique. The precise role of the centralized, planning state is to integrate technique. Technique also shows an anti-democratic tendency, in that it “always gives rise to an aristocracy of technicians who
guard secrets to which no outsider has access.”7
The rise of “economic man” devalued all activities and tendencies other than the economic. The technical mind tends to think of technique as neutral and it eschews moral judgments. The technical mind “tends to create
a completely technical morality.”8 A technological take-over of society inverts means to ends. The most important questions become merely “howto” technical questions—for example, the creation of the atom bomb and biological experiments that exalt artificial forms of procreation. Ellul laments
that “technological man” tends to move, inexorably and without much deep
thought, from what is technically possible to its actuation. Those who resist
the technological mind become isolated or rejected.
The brilliance of the book lies in the way Ellul systematically treats
technique and the economy, the state, and the law (where order and security get substituted for justice as the end and foundation of law—such that
“law becomes merely a complex of technical norms.”9 Technique de-natures
natural society and various techniques converge. Human techniques, such
as propaganda, advertising, and other psychological means, attempt to get
humans to do what they do not spontaneously want to do. Education is reduced to an attempt to produce technicians. Ellul ends up calling this technical world “a universal concentration camp.”10
Some commentators have mused about what Ellul would do with the
elements of a full-blown information revolution. At least some of them sug-
46
gest that he could include them in his analysis. Media applications that use
the Internet, such as Facebook, Twitter, and iPods, and the way they are electronically inter-twined would not surprise him. He would also note that—
as entertainment—it is simply not the case that “the individual, left on his
own, will devote himself to the education of his personality or to a spiritual
and cultural life.”11 Moreover, he would likely lift up the ‘unintended consequences’ of information technology: for example, its tendency to make silence or quiet meditation more difficult.
One citation captures well the basic thrust of the book:
The character of technique renders it independent of man himself. Man,
practically speaking, no longer possesses any means of bringing action to
bear upon technique. He is unable to limit or orient it. The reality is that
man no longer has any means with which to subjugate technique, which
is not an intellectual, or even, as some would have it, a spiritual phenomenon. It is above all a sociological phenomenon, and in order to cure or
change it, one would have to oppose to it checks and barriers of a sociological character. By such means alone man might possibly bring action
to bear on it. But everything of a sociological character has had its character changed by technique. There is, therefore, nothing of a sociological
character available to restrain technique, because everything in society is
its servant. Technique is essentially independent of the human being who
finds himself naked and disarmed before it.12
No one, then, so brilliantly unmasks the technological mind and its
ability to lure us into a kind of blind acceptance and complacency in its ascendancy as Ellul does. No one so well details the idea that technology is not
neutral or that, while made to serve humans, it actually subverts that hierarchy, so that humans serve it—no one so well helps us see that technology is
rarely neutral in its effects. Ellul is effective in showing the folly of trying to
address technological spheres as totally separate (they are inter-twined, as
state is with economy, and labor is with leisure time). He does us a service
ethically by showing how the technological mind inverts the values of the
moral order.
My main complaint against Ellul’s analysis is a fundamentally sociological one. As so many sociologists do, Ellul juxtaposes structure with agency. Correctly, he and other sociologists tend to unmask delusions of individual agency untouched by, un-hemmed in, unconstrained by culture and
agency. We are less free, agile agents than we delude ourselves into imagining. If there are deep structural constraints—theologians might speak here
of ‘structural sin’—then, the address to them must be equally structural.
Coleman
47
Yet, sociological structures (even quite constraining ones) are never totally divorced from human agency and there is a kind of “social construction” of reality. Humans who acquiesce in structures—perhaps, because
they feel they are constrained by them and not free—can withdraw (as happens in revolutionary moments) their consent from them and, again, basically, unmask their de-humanizing character. Nor is all agency merely individual—there exists a collective agency, a more mass reaction and horror
toward the de-humanizing character of the modern technological mind. In
a recent, very brilliant, book, What is a Person?, sociologist Christian Smith
uncovers some of the mistakes of an overly robust “structuralist” sociological model, such as found in Ellul.13
Perhaps, following Lewis Mumford, we will need to distinguish between authoritarian versus democratic techniques. Yet, even there, we may
want to maintain a methodical suspicion about the purported claims for
democratic techniques. The technological mind exalts freedom as an individual sense of choice. It masks how often the range of choices (if, indeed,
there are any) is pre-determined by the regime of technology. So, I take Ellul’s analysis quite seriously about the kind of dilemmas inherent in our
technological society and within our minds. Although, I assume his work
would read differently if his sociology were more informed by those who
juxtapose structure and agency and know that there are elements of human
agency (e.g., acceptance, acquiescence, willful cooperation) in every social
structure. Had I read The Technological Society in the late 1960’s, I might have
missed this point. However, once I read Anthony Giddens’ book, The Constitution of Society: Outline for the Theory of Structuration, I could no longer
accept Ellul’s crass view of sociological structures.14 Having said that, however, I still think anyone who reads The Technological Society will be much
more prone to engage in a truly “reflective” (carefully, suspiciously, and cautiously reflective!) practice.
NOTES
1.
Jacques Ellul, The Technological Society, John Wilkinson, trans. (New York: Alfred A.
Knopf, 1964), originally published in 1954 as La Technique ou L’enjeu du Siècle.
2.
Lewis Mumford, Techniques and Civilization (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1969).
3.
Ivan Illich, Tools for Conviviality (New York: Harper and Row, 1973).
4.
Ellul, The Technological Society, 22.
5.
Ibid., xxvii.
48
6.
Ibid., 301.
7.
Ibid., 162.
8.
Ibid., 97.
9.
Ibid., 298.
10. Ibid., 307.
11. Ibid., 401.
12. Ibid., 306.
13. Christian Smith, What is a Person? (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2010).
14. Anthony Giddens, The Constitution of Society: Outline for the Theory of Structuration
(Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1986).
Close to Home and All Together Very Different
People often ask whether you can begin to have the intimacy in the
online class when you are not together in person. The format we use
allows everyone to see and hear each other simultaneously. Offering
the field education reflection seminar online has allowed students to
sign on from a convenient location and enter into dialogue with each
other. We bring rich diversity of experience and socio-geographic location to the process. We are in cities connected by high-speed fiberoptic cable, and in remote rural locations connected by satellite; we
are in fancy offices, and small closets at the homeless shelter. Even
more, the seminar members are connecting from various sites—their
offices, their homes, a hotel on the road. We see their lives as they are
unfolding. We meet their children, partners, dogs, and, finally, this
semester, we even met an elusive cat. We become close in a way that
lets us enter more deeply into the narrative of the cases presented and
that lets us understand the seminar members more fully in context.
Mary C. Froehle
“Field Education and Online Interactive Peer-Reflection Seminars,”
Loyola University of Chicago and St. Thomas University
Comment on Coleman
Ki Do Ahn
As an Asian theologian, trained and educated in the United States, I’ve been
exposed to the rapid development of computer technology and the Internet
throughout my life. It is from the perspective of someone born within this
era that I was asked to write a response to Jacques Ellul’s The Technological
Society.1 This book first came to my attention eight years ago while I was an
undergraduate, majoring in theology and volunteering with the college’s
computer club; maintaining computers in the School of Theology.
Reading this book again, I was fascinated to see that Ellul foresaw
some of the present advances in technology. In this book, he seems to imply
that when the total integration of technology happens, it will lead society to
a point of completion. “With the final integration of the instinctive and the
spiritual by means of these human techniques, the edifice of the technical
society will be completed.” (p. 426) Ellul seems to envision ideal humans in
an ideal society in which people always agree with one another.
My first response to Ellul is related to the philosophy of modernism
and/or post-modernism—the idea that through technology it is possible to
become an ideal person, even though post-modernism insists that an ideal
person or thing doesn’t exist. Modernism assumes that the edifice of a technical society will be complete at some point in the future. However, I believe
Ki Do Ahn, PhD, is a student in interdisciplinary studies at the Graduate Theological
Union in Berkeley and CPE supervisory candidate at Stanford University Medical Center,
300 Pasteur Dr., Stanford CA, 94305 (Email: kahn@ses.gtu.edu).
50
Comment on Coleman
the edifice of society might not be complete until the end of the world and
therefore forming the structure of a technical society will be more process
than completion.
The recent interest in spirituality can illustrate this tension. People seek
“techniques” that can lead them to more spiritual living, but the focus on
technique will not create a common spirituality—the possible spiritualities
that people might embrace are potentially endless. In particular, digital technology increases access to spiritual information, burdening people to choose
from among too many options. The easy availability of information on the
Internet can lead us into undo complexity and seems to contrast with the
efficient techniques advocated by Ellul. I believe that people receive more
value from the process of online research and the rich resources it makes
available than they would from a simpler, more “efficient” process.
Also, Ellul assumes that people bond through techniques and he foresaw the digital networks that have developed into the current ”cyber world,”
where information flows freely across most of the Earth. One can fashion
several different personalities of oneself and engage in many different types
of social interactions within totally different worlds. In this sense, technology makes it possible and, perhaps, even necessary to be bi-lingual living
in multiple worlds. One can choose to live in one cyber world or in two,
or more, worlds at the same time. Technology offers multiple options—the
simplest example is teleconferencing tools, such as Skype, where people can
have live, real-time interactions with friends and relatives in other countries.
The transformation of technology is ongoing and, as it grows, will
continue to effect human transformation. It may be too early to determine
whether the completion of the edifice of a technological society is possible
or not. Today, fifty years after Jacques Ellul published The Technological Society, many of the themes he envisioned are now a part of daily living. I value
this book and feel it may be helpful to revisit it again sometime in the future.
NOTE
1.
Jacques Ellul, The Technological Society, John Wilkinson, trans. (New York: Alfred A.
Knopf, 1964), originally published in 1954 as La Technique ou L’enjeu du Siècle.
SeCTion 2
PRACTiCeS
Teaching Practices online:
Different—Yes; necessary—Yes
The use of digital technology has already changed many practices in religious communities. Prayer teams respond almost instantly to requests sent by email or text messages. Hymns on projected on walls. Church
newsletters are circulated electronically. Envelopes have been replaced by
online giving. Blogs invite conversation about faith and life. Google makes
sermon preparation easier. There is an iPhone app to guide Roman Catholics
through confession. Churches without walls, religious leaders without an
office, and congregations without membership are undoubtedly future religious practices that have already arrived. There are already multi-campus
networks of satellite-based congregations with technically competent staff
supporting a charismatic preacher who simultaneously addresses millions
of faithful followers around the globe from a location almost anywhere. If
this is a preview of future religious communities, what kind of ministers will
be needed and how shall they be prepared?
The utilization of technology like Blackboard or Moodle, and other
web resources for online teaching, has been part of theological education for
some time. These practices are a response to the “digital-natives” who are
coming to study theology. Blogs, wikis, tags, texts, and tweets are the tools
they use to communicate and connect and learn. Digital technology brings
a rapidly evolving landscape to theological education that has been notoriously slow to change. The next gadget often makes the previous radically
new technology obsolete overnight. While it is undoubtedly true this technology cannot by itself change education because people make change—it is
true also that the life patterns of people preparing today to be religious leaders tomorrow have already been changed by digital technology in ways that
challenge traditional patterns of ministerial formation.
In this section, we examine the use of digital technology, both in the
practice of ministry and in preparation for the practices of ministry. What
can the success of online learning of knowledge-based content teach us
about using digital technology to teach interpersonal religious practices?
Because teaching ministerial practice has depended on community building, personal vulnerability, and personal interaction, what accommodations
52
Section 2: practices
need to be made to make online teaching of pastoral care or other ministry
practices effective? If the future of religious communities and, hence, religious leadership will be substantively shaped by digital technology and its
consequences, should formation for ministry be accordingly digital? How
will digital technology affect our expectations of a ministry like spiritual
direction?
Elaine Ramshaw has taught pastoral care online for a long time. For that
reason, we are grateful for her reflections on text-based teaching online with no
“real-time” conversations and, certainly, no virtual classroom. For Ramshaw,
teaching about being present without actual presence presses students to pay
more attention to their own stories, listen more carefully to the stories of others,
and allow themselves to be deeply affected by what they hear without worrying about making a response in ‘real-time’. Everyone, Ramshaw proposes,
should have an online distance-learning experience because online students often live in very different settings, at very great distances from each other, with
different regional and ethnic cultural assumptions and practices that add richly
to the conversation and leading students into awareness of the cultural intricacies of care.
Teaching intercultural spiritual care online, as Carrie Doehring envisions it, is a bold interactive process including three hour-long spiritual care
‘chats’ between students based on role plays derived from fictional short
stories. In contrast to traditional verbatims that have been used for decades
in teaching pastoral care, these online conversations are an actual account of
the meeting and available immediately for reflection. The advantage of using online transcripts of a conversation, Doehring found, is that she is able
to give much more detailed feedback to the student and students are able to
demonstrate how they used the feedback. The idea of using fictional shortstories for role-playing is beneficial whether or not the course is taught online. Doehring invites readers to share ideas about the use of her method for
teaching intercultural spiritual care.
The third essay in this section is about both the practice of and preparation for spiritual direction. John Mabry reflects on his experience of online spiritual direction using both email and Skype, concluding that they are
not the same as face-to-face companioning but still valuable. Once the work
begins, he observes, the barriers to intimacy drift away. Mabry is correct to
challenge the idea that technology is somehow antithetical to authentic spiritual discernment. The response to Mabry’s essay by Maria Tattu Bowen offers qualified agreement to his claims that in using technology to offer long-
Anderson
53
distance spiritual direction, certain problems, are solved while others are
created. One of the advantages of online spiritual direction Bowen reports
was surprising: because she can close her eyes while listening, she finds herself hearing more nuances in the conversation.
The changes initiated by digital technology, Gordon J. Hilsman and Angelika A. Zollfrank contend, are significant enough to consider changes in the standards for supervision in the Association of Clinical Pastoral Education in order
to insure the quality of supervisory programs. They present two theories of supervision in order to explore the benefits and limitations for using distance-education technologies and then raise critical questions about distance-education
methods in clinical pastoral education. “Careful observation and evaluation of
distance supervision experiments will be vital in charting the future of the use
of electronic media for some educational functions, including the processing of
theological and spiritual core values relative to pastoral care work.”5 This essay
provides criteria for evaluating the descriptions of supervision using distancelearning, as addressed in the next section of this volume.
The seeds for changes in teaching and learning preceded the digital
revolution. The focus on outcomes has challenged teachers to redo syllabi and alter teaching methods and goals. Honoring human individuality
in general meant a greater acknowledgment that people learn differently.
Economic factors have dictated curricular redesign in order that advanced
learning is accessible to, and affordable for, more individuals. Even if online
education disappeared tomorrow, ‘student-centered’ learning is likely to remain. The social media tools have simply made it easier to help people do
what they already had been determined to do.
Along the way, old questions have been sharpened by new possibilities.
What maximizes learning? What kind of human interaction around a subject
is necessary for learning to occur? What is the role of the charismatic teacher
in learning? What is the importance of real-time for learning? What constitutes
distance-learning? How much face-to-face interaction is necessary to prepare
people for the ‘interpersonal’ dimension of digital ministry? How will evaluation be changed by less face-to-face contact? In what ways will online teaching
and formation continue the focus on student-directed learning? In the next section, several possibilities for using digital technology in supervision and formation are described and reflected on in the light of these and other questions.
Herbert Anderson
Editor
Reflections on Teaching Pastoral Care Online
Elaine Ramshaw
I have been teaching Pastoral Care courses online for the past decade for
four different seminaries (Andover Newton Theological School in Massachusetts, Church Divinity School of the Pacific in California, Lutheran Theological Seminary at Philadelphia, and Wartburg Seminary in Iowa). What
follows are my reflections on the drawbacks and advantages of teaching
Pastoral Care online.
There are many different modalities possible for teaching over the Internet and there will doubtless be many more in the near future. My teaching
has been almost completely text-based, with no videotaped lectures, no conversations taking place in “real-time” with people online at the same time,
and certainly no virtual classroom. The students read the assigned readings, often including a written lecture by me; they post their initial responses to discussion questions (“forums”) about those readings; then they and
I carry on a conversation by posting responses to each other’s comments.
There have been occasional phone conversations, when I have thought that
a student needed to talk her way to a more do-able or enjoyable paper topic, or when someone needed assistance in writing a reflection paper. These
conversations have been rare—most courses have gone by without my ever
speaking with a student. Occasionally students have talked to each other
over the phone, usually when they have been working on overlapping top-
Elaine Ramshaw, PhD, teaches pastoral care online from her home in Branford, CT (Email:
Elaine.ramshaw@gmail.com).
Ramshaw
55
ics for their project, or when one wants to share a personal experience that is
relevant to the other’s paper topic. I have used three different instructional
software systems: Blackboard, Moodle, and Andover Newton’s own online
system. Of those three, I have been happiest with Moodle—but all three
have worked adequately.
As online instruction progresses, it is likely that purely text-based
teaching will become less common. Because the digital world is changing
so rapidly, these reflections might be too out-of-date to be useful within a
few years. My hope, however, is that much of what I say will apply in varying degrees to other styles of online teaching. The addition of videotaped
lectures, for instance, probably wouldn’t make that much difference to the
overall experience. Even if forms of virtual assembly become more affordable and accessible, there will be still be a need for courses that do not require students to be online at any specified time, since online flexibility remains valuable for so many.
Drawbacks of Teaching Pastoral Care Online
Obviously, the main thing that is lost in online teaching is face-to-face interaction in shared, mutual, physical presence. As Lorrie Moore has one of her
narrators say of talking on the phone: “People talking were meant to look at
a face, the disastrous cupcake of it, the hide-and-seek of the heart dashing
across. With a phone, you said words, but you never watched them go in.
You saw them off at the airport but never knew whether there was anyone
there to greet them when they got off the plane.”1 In online written conversation, similarly, you cannot read the other person’s reaction to your words
on their face. You also do not hear the other’s tone of voice, breath pattern,
perceive their body language, or subliminally get messages from how they
smell. When people are together in a physical space, they interact on all
these physical levels simultaneously with the verbal communication. They
also create a sort of group-feel as an interacting system on all these levels, as
people unconsciously and consciously react to each other’s verbal and bodily messages. When people are not physically together, some dimensions of
communication are necessarily lost.
Teaching About Presence without Actual Presence
It may seem that Pastoral Care, of all subjects, most demands in-the-body
interpersonal communication. Aren’t we all about teaching the importance
of the ministry of presence? Indeed, there are aspects of the teaching of Pas-
56
Reflections on teaching pastoral care online
toral Care that are not easily possible online. You cannot, for instance, have
students role-play a face-to-face conversation, where all the levels of communication can be observed by the participating students and by the rest
of the class. For this reason, I have not tried to teach a basic, full-semester
seminary Introduction to Pastoral Care course online.
I have been told that research has shown that the best subjects for online courses are those where the students have relevant personal experience
about which they have strong feelings. It is my belief that this is true because the students’ experience and feelings help contribute human interest to make up for the lacking human interest that comes with shared personal presence. The human interest of hearing, seeing, and smelling other
people’s body language, facial expressions, and tone of voice is replaced by
the human interest of my own emotionally-charged memories and others’
deeply-felt stories. Pastoral Care topics may be some of the best subjects for
online teaching for this reason. The subject I have most often taught online
(in a number of variations) is “ritual care for people in transition and crisis,”
where we examine pastoral care and transitional rituals for people who are
getting married, getting divorced, are ill, dying, bereaved, losing a job, moving, adopting, or entering a long-term care facility, etc. Students bring their
own relevant, feeling-imbued experience to the online learning experience.
When I have taught a mini-introductory course (about half a semester) for
all-online certification programs for lay ministers, I have used the topic of
sickness as a focus; which is a good topic in the sense that almost everyone
has had significant, relevant, personal, feeling-laden experiences. When I
taught a course on off-the-cuff praying in pastoral visitation, I listed as a
prerequisite that the student have some experience as a visitor who prays
with people.
Recognizing Uniqueness without Physical Cues
It takes longer to get a sense of each person as an individual in online interaction because one can’t link their words with all the sensory impressions of
their physical self. It takes a while before I have a sense of a particular person linked to each message I read. It helps if their postings make frequent
reference to easily recognizable aspects of their life: a specific ministry site,
an unusual family constellation, a unique-in-the-class personal experience,
or physical condition. Also, it helps if people have a distinctive writing style.
Sometimes I have had to call up all of a particular student’s postings to make
sure I have not confused two students in my mind. (This can, of course,
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57
happen in the classroom, but it is a more common problem online.) Whatever the mode of teaching pastoral care, it is important to be attentive to the
particularity of each person, since we are talking about inherently personal
matters.
The Absence of the Group Creative Process
Group spontaneity that results from brainstorming on a particular case does
not translate well to online classes where there are no real-time meetings.
Individual responses to a case study may be more thoughtful and varied
than they would be in the classroom, but the group spontaneity of bouncing
ideas off of one another doesn’t work quite as well. I miss this as a mode of
teaching about ritual. The group creative process is useful especially for discussions of how to improvise ritual for particular situations.
Managing Misunderstandings Online
One problem associated with online communication that has been much
discussed is “flaming,” i.e., hostile or insulting interaction. This is more
of a problem on anonymous forums than in classes where people’s posts
are attached to their personal identity (and indeed, to their academic record). Nonetheless, the phenomenon of making hurtful remarks or failing
to quickly realize that a remark did hurt someone’s feelings occurs in part
because of the lack of social cues that would come through in face-to-face
interactions, by reading each other’s facial expression and body language.
In general, I have rarely had this problem in teaching Pastoral Care online. It
may be that people who choose to take Pastoral Care electives are just nicer
than average! When misunderstandings and possible hurt feelings have occurred, I have emailed the offending student privately to alert her to how
her words might have come across. I have also found that it is more likely
online than it is in the classroom that one of the more mature students will
step in and help to heal such breaches in communication. Perhaps this is
more likely online because the professor has less overall control of the conversational process.
There are drawbacks to teaching online that affect the professor, in particular, and are related to the difficulties of adjunct teaching, in general. For
one, the pay is pitiful, often even less than an on-campus adjunct instructor receives. In addition, the instructor does not have a sense of community
with other instructors, cannot so easily get a sense of what the students are
experiencing and learning in their other classes, and has little awareness of
58
significant issues in the corporate life of the seminary as a system affecting
the students and their learning environment.
Advantages of Teaching Pastoral Care Online
In spite of all of the challenges in teaching about the importance of full human presence when you’re not fully humanly present, there are yet many
advantages to online instruction/learning. Some of the gains I will list apply
to online teaching in any field, while others are particularly advantageous in
the teaching of Pastoral Care.
Equalized Participation
One of the major gains from teaching online is that group conversational
participation among the students may be equalized. When people are in a
room together, some persons are more likely to speak than others, and some
persons (an overlapping, but not identical, subgroup) are more likely than
others to be listened to and referenced in later conversation. People with a
more assertive personality or more social privilege may be more likely to
speak; people with a more attractive personality or appearance, more social
privilege (including being male), or more facility at “working the crowd”
are more likely to be heard and referenced. In online classes, many of these
differential factors are neutralized in a couple of ways. First, the fact that
people aren’t seeing and hearing each other means that they are less affected by the social cues attached to gender, class, appearance, and personality
type. This is the good side of the lack of many-leveled communication! It
does help level the playing field for women, shy people, people with heavily
accented English, or those with physical disabilities.
Another equalizing factor in a class that does not meet in “real-time” is
that the instructor can require every student to respond to a question in the
initial response period, and expect that each student will read every other
student’s initial posting (this can be monitored to some degree by the software). In subsequent online conversation, some of the differential factors of
gender, personality, and skill at communication may continue to make some
students more voluble and/or more attended to than others, but there is a
good chance that everyone has been heard by everyone else at least once in
each forum’s discussion. In addition, although the conversational phenomenon of an idea’s being credited by the group, not to its originator, but to a
higher-status participant who repeated it (e.g., a man repeats something a
woman suggested and in later conversation the group credits the man with
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the idea) may occur in online conversation, the instructor (or another participant) can go back over the conversation and explicitly credit the idea’s
originator. Also, the instructor can monitor her participation in class discussion more exactly than in real-world conversation and try to identify, and
diminish, her own unconscious favoritism based on factors other than the
content of the person’s postings.
More Time to Listen and Reflect
A second major advantage of online instruction, especially classes that do
not meet in “real-time,” is that there is more time to think and to listen in the
course of conversation. In a seminary pamphlet, one online student put it
this way: “Online, I was given a chance to absorb what my classmates said,
then let it ferment before I responded, enhancing our level of conversation.”2
Communication specialists have helped us recognize that one of the major
impediments to good communication in spoken conversation is that we are
too busy preparing our own speech (continuing our own line of thinking
or our own argument, defending against a perceived attack, or fending off
competing points-of-view) to be able to hear and understand what the other
person is saying. The process of non-real-time discussion online is such that
you have time to read (and re-read) a message and to let it sink in before you
respond. Knee-jerk reactions or dismissive responses are very rare in my experience. Listening gets the edge over promoting one’s own conversational
agenda. I believe that students in non-real-time online classes are more likely to be deeply affected by the ideas their classmates or I bring up in discussion, including ideas which are quite new to them. It is my observation that
students in my online classes are more likely to incorporate and refer back
to their classmates’ insights as the class proceeds than were students in my
on-campus classes.
Another way in which the time to think during non-real-time online
conversation can lead to stronger discussion is that each student has time to
think up a response to a common question on their own, without being influenced by other responses. This is particularly true in the initial sequence
of responses to a discussion forum. In the classroom, because it is harder to
get every person responding to a question after having time to think about
it, the responses will not be as wide or varied. As the online conversation
develops on a topic, students are reminded of parts of their experience they
might not have considered otherwise. For instance, in response to a question
about the ways in which we do our grief work later on in bereavement—the
60
formal and informal rituals of remembering the deceased that occur long
after the death—one student might mention symbolic and ritual acts (displaying a photograph or quilt, retelling a favorite story, or making a recipe
associated with the deceased) done at a family reunion. This may lead other
students, who never would have thought of those behaviors under the category of “grief work,” to share their own stories of informal memorializing
at family gatherings. Alternatively, if one student describes something from
his experience that the others do not share, such as a cultural tradition like
the Days of the Dead, it can lead people to realize how poor our own culture is in opportunities for symbolic grieving later on in bereavement. Any
of these things can happen in classroom discussion, but the pool of initial
responses to draw from won’t be as broad as it is online, making this sort of
thing is less likely to occur.
Online Advantages for the Teacher
This gift of time during the conversation affects my instruction positively. In
the classroom, I am likely to pass over a comment that I do not understand
or cannot immediately see as advancing the discussion. Online, while I still
pay more attention and respond more thoroughly to postings I find more insightful, I do have the time to read each statement and see whether I can find
something from it to pick up and carry into the discussion. At least in the
initial go-round, where every student responds to the discussion question, I
respond to each post. (As the conversation on a topic develops, it would actually inhibit class discussion if I responded to every post.) In the classroom,
while I know I should respond positively whenever possible to some aspect
of a student’s contribution, I often neglect to do that under the pressure of
time. In online discussion, almost every comment I post begins with a “Yes,
you make a good point about X.” I may then go on to suggest alternative
approaches, make a caveat, or challenge a student’s assumption, but I nearly
always manage to start by affirming something the student has said.
There are other major and minor advantages to online teaching from
the instructor’s point of view. The fact that all communication (except possible phone calls) is recorded and preserved can be helpful on various fronts.
I can show that I did indeed tell the class X, Y, or Z as of a certain date. Years
ago, a dean advised me to create a paper trail in the case of a particular student’s problematic behavior; online, there is no need to create a separate
paper trail because all interaction is automatically documented. The complete record of class discussion also makes it possible to be more objective in
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61
grading class participation. It is easy to see the number of postings any one
student has made and even possible to pull them all up and skim through
them again. Though there is always some subjectivity in judging the quality
of a student’s postings, this access to the complete record is a helpful corrective to faulty memory. I have generally been essentially correct about my
sense of how much each student has participated, but at least once I found I
had way underestimated a particular student’s level of participation when I
looked at the number of responses and skimmed over her comments.
Also, it may be a helpful preventative measure that there is no unmonitored group-talk—though, of course, students can email each other individually and, in theory, even set up an independent group discussion elsewhere
online. Once in my sixteen years of full-time on-campus seminary teaching,
I had a class in which a significant subset of the students used the class break
as a gripe session to reinforce each other’s dissatisfaction with the course
(perhaps not surprisingly, it was a course on the volatile subject of sexuality). Online disgruntled students do not have the same sort of opportunity
for a group undermining of the classroom process (or, alternatively seen, to
do necessary revolutionary work!). Another helpful aspect of online teaching in dealing with dissatisfied students is that the student does not have to
come to the professor’s office or catch him after class to raise a concern; she
can post a question on the “office hours” forum or email the professor directly any time.
One minor advantage to teaching online these days is that you don’t
have to fight with the distractedness of students in the classroom who are
surfing the web during class! This is more and more of an irritant in classroom teaching, as students pursue unrelated tasks on the web on their laptops or phones. Students in online classes might, of course, surf the web
while doing their class work, but it doesn’t disrupt their class participation
in the same way.
The Settings for Learning Online
A final set of advantages to online teaching has to do with where the students are as they take the class. They are at home in their familiar context,
they are often actually working as lay or ordained ministers while they participate in the class, and they are often in varied and far-flung settings. All
three of these factors can enrich discussion and can be of particular help to
the teaching of Pastoral Care.
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The fact that the students are usually in their own home-base means
that it is easier to integrate the observation of normal life into the thought
processes of class discussion. Students experience and observe various sorts
of crises, losses, and celebrations and can share their observations with the
class. They can interview their mother or grandmother about her experience of pregnancy-loss during the week that we talk about miscarriage and
stillbirth. They go to funerals with newly informed eyes. Their county has
disastrous flooding during the semester and they share what they see to be
communal and individual pastoral needs—leading to the writing of a final
paper about disaster care.
Embedded Learning
Many seminaries that have expanded contextual education have found that
students’ concurrent involvement in ministry settings can enrich their educational experience in their other classes. While on-campus seminary students may be doing ministry in local parishes while they are taking other
courses, it is more likely that an online student will be doing full-time ministry, possibly in a place he has served for a long time, or she may be doing volunteer or part-time ministry in a place she’s known well over many
years. The fact that many of the students are concurrently doing what one
might call “embedded” parish work, and that some of them are the pastoral
leaders of their congregations, can be a plus for teaching in any of the practical fields. These students have deeper observations of parish life to share
than a seminary intern does who spends ten hours a week at a congregation
previously unknown to him. Also, they have the opportunity to try things
out in vivo. They can start praying for those who mourn in their congregation, not only the week after the death, but for several more weeks, and
again at the one-year anniversary. They can devise a Mother’s Day evening
ritual for those who have experienced miscarriage, abortion, or stillbirth.
They can take a sock-puppet along for the first time when they visit a sick
child. Then they can share with the class how it went! More formally, they
can do a final project/paper for the class, which includes something tried in
their own setting: the beginning of a healing ritual process for a congregation emerging from bitter conflict, a civic ritual for recovering flood victims,
the development of a congregational policy regarding weddings or funerals,
a goodbye-to-the-house ritual for people who are moving, or the blessing/
cleansing of a room damaged by a gang shooting from outside. These examples are all drawn from my courses on ritual care in transition and crisis,
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63
but the parish-based final project would be possible in many Pastoral Care
or other practical area courses.
Often students in an online class live in very different settings and at
very great distances from each other—settings varied in regional and ethnic
cultural assumptions and practices. One can get a lot of variation in contextual education settings within a seminary’s urban area, but the diversity of
an online class’s range of current settings is often much broader and the students’ rootedness in, and understanding of, their local community’s culture
is often deeper. This adds great richness to class discussion. Again, it helps
that you can require every student to say something in response to a common
question. A startlingly wide-range of responses is likely to surface to begin
the discussion.
The Benefits of Embedded Diversity
Whether because of this diversity, or because I as the instructor have less
tight control of the conversational process, I have found that in online classes
more serendipitous connections happen as the students share their experiences. For instance, more than once, someone has remarked during a discussion of the importance of relinquishing one’s own agendas in most pastoral
conversations: “Hey, that sounds like what I’ve learned about the practice
of contemplative prayer—you have to be able to let go of your own agenda,
no matter how holy it is.” That sort of slightly off-topic, but greatly enriching and enlightening, association is less likely to be voiced in classroom discussion. Another example of serendipitous connection has occurred in the
discussion of the question about what your family/community does later
on in bereavement. It often happens that some students’ communities, such
as African-American or Latino churches, do significantly more communal
grieving in the months after a death than does the average mostly-white
Protestant church, which does little in the way of ritual remembering after
the first week. Sometimes, though, there will be students from small, largely
white, rural communities that have significant (formal and informal) ritual
later on in bereavement. This can help the class realize that the determining factor is not a specific ethnic cultural tradition, but rather the existence
of what the sociologists would call “organic community.” This realization
leads to a more informed discussion of the issues for bereavement in a postmodern context. How do we provide support for the ongoing bereavement
journey in the absence of organic community—when they may not, for in-
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stance, in their daily life see anyone else who knew the deceased loved one
or be in any place evoking memories of her?
The fact that an online class can gather people who are spread over
great distances is a gift, especially for students who are ministering in isolated rural areas. It makes continuing education or the pursuance of a degree
or certification possible for someone who cannot commute to a nearby seminary. The online class can also provide a form of community, peer support,
and peer consultation for people serving churches in far-flung rural settings.
Such students’ appreciation of the class as peer-support contributes to their
dedication to the classwork and to the quality of their interaction with each
other. Pastoral Care professors should welcome this, not only because it enhances the level of class discussion, but also because one of the goals we
have in teaching is to model and encourage students to develop practices of
mutual support.
I trust it is now evident why I do not consider online Pastoral Care instruction to be a ‘poor relation’ of on-campus instruction. I believe that each
format has its strengths and weaknesses. In an ideal world, even seminarians who are able to take all their required courses on campus might be encouraged to take some classes online, preferably classes where the majority
of the students do not live nearby. I hope the availability of online classes
will increase the likelihood that ministers with seminary degrees will pursue continuing education, particularly in the field of Pastoral Care, where
the experiential nature of the subject matter lends itself to vibrant online
discussion, and where the students’ deep knowledge of their varied ministry settings leads to a better group understanding of the cultural intricacies
of care.
NOTES
1.
Lorrie Moore, Like Life (New York: Vintage Books, 2002), 142.
2.
Bob Lane, student at Starr King School for Ministry, Berkeley, CA, quoted in publicity
material for the school.
Teaching Spiritual Care Online
Using Online Spiritual Care Chats
Carrie Doehring
Verbatim case studies have been a time-honored learning tradition in pastoral care dating back to the 1930s, when the Reverend Russell L. Dicks, a
chaplain at Massachusetts General Hospital, required his chaplain interns to
reconstruct their pastoral care conversations, reflect upon them, and present
them in case study seminars.1 In learning how to teach spiritual care in an
online format, I wanted to make verbatim accounts of spiritual care conversations the primary vehicle of learning. I decided to give each student two
learning partners with whom they would have a sequence of three hour-long
online chats based on fictional role-plays. In one partnership, students functioned as spiritual caregivers; in the other, as careseekers. The purpose of this
paper is to describe how I used these partnerships and online chats and to
explore how well they worked.
Creating Fictional Online Spiritual Care Case Studies
In a course on multicultural spiritual care, I used fictional case studies based
on short stories from A Celestial Omnibus: Short Fiction on Faith.2 The person
Carrie Doehring, PhD, Associate Professor of Pastoral Care and Counseling, Iliff School of
Theology, 2201 S. University Blvd., Denver, CO 80210–4798 (Email: cdoehring@iliff.edu).
66
Teaching spiritual care online using online chats
role-playing the careseeker selected the story and created the scenario in
which he or she engaged in a spiritual care conversation. I have used short
stories and films in similar ways in my writing and teaching. Usually I imagine what it would be like to parachute into the story and engage the protagonist in a spiritual care conversation.3 All of the stories in A Celestial Omnibus
lend themselves to these kinds of embellishments.
The short story, “Love Medicine,”4 is about a Chippewa young man
named Lipsha, known on the reservation for his healing touch. This story
was used effectively in a learning partnership in which an African-American female student played the role of Lipsha having a conversation with a
Methodist pastor, Eric, visiting the reservation. Eric encounters Lipsha as he
is walking down a road. Here is an excerpt from their first online spiritual
care chat:
Eric:
“Hello, my name is Eric Strader. How are you today?”
Lipsha: “OK. Mr. Eric, what are you doing here on the rez?”
Eric:
I’m on a sabbatical from my life, taking time to breathe deep. I’ve been
staying down the road and am connecting with the divine differently.
I’m sorry; I didn’t catch your name.
Lipsha: “Yeah, well. You may call me ‘brother’ or ‘friend’…”
Eric:
“Tell me about your life, brother.”
Lipsha: “Well, you’re new around here. So, since your visiting, maybe you can talk
‘bout who you are and where you’re from. We seem to get a lot of Anglos
comin’ to the rez wanting to ‘save’ us. Or, some folks are just seekers.”
Eric:
“Thank you for being honest. I will not lie, I am a Christian, but I don’t
believe in saving people. In fact, part of my education at seminary
focused on how the church and government structures had treated
Native American peoples, treated them badly. I wanted to come here
as a way of connecting with another people.”
Lipsha: “Yes, Mr. Eric. I am glad to hear that you’re not here to shove your
ways on us…I’m headed over to visit my grandma down the road…
My grandpa recently went to the other side, and I don’t know how to
move forward.”
Eric:
“I’m sorry. Please accept my condolences his physical presence is no
longer here…”
Lipsha: “He is a strange man. I spoke to him last night in my dream. I saw him
laughing, and teasing me.”
Eric:
Was that pleasing to you?
Lipsha: “I now realize that maybe he is where he wishes to be. I believe he will
guide me, and help me. He is an elder, and my ancestor.”
Eric:
“I assume you have great respect for the presence of your ancestors.
How is your grandmother doing?”
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67
Lipsha: “I saw her yesterday. We are very close. She has made some interesting
comments lately. So, I do think that she speaks to grandpa sometimes...
Grandpa had some mysterious ways about him….So much to cope
with here as our ways have been disrupted. He was wounded from so
much despair here, and maybe he needed to find ways to escape.”
Eric:
“I can understand that.”
Lipsha: “Do you visit your grandparents?”
Eric:
“Not as much as I should…”
Lipsha: “Oh, they are missing you and concerned about you…This is an
important part of our ways, is to honor our elders. They have much
wisdom, and desire to share this.”
Eric:
“And we should receive it from them.”
Lipsha: “I have much to learn still. I wish to see the outside, and work hard to
keep our traditions for the next generation.”
Eric:
“Traditions are important and I hope the Anglo world doesn’t force
you to love them.”
Lipsha: “So, you know some ‘skins’ on the outside? I would like to speak to
some other brothers my age.”
Eric:
“I’ll get them for you. Would you be interested in walking this road
again tomorrow?”
Implementing an Intercultural Approach to Spiritual Care
In this assignment, Eric was implementing an intercultural approach to spiritual care, based upon Lartey’s intercultural paradigm of spiritual care5 that
values contextual, multi-perspective, and authentic participative approaches to spiritual care.6 Lartey uses the term “intercultural” to push spiritual
caregivers beyond recognition of diverse cultures to a critical awareness and
engagement with that which is “other” in careseekers.7 I use the term “intercultural spiritual care” in order to clarify the ways in which students are
comparing their religious tradition with the tradition of the careseeker. Students use the following three guidelines8 as they implement an intercultural
approach to care in their online conversations.
1. First, students need to be mindful of the dangers of imposing their religious
beliefs and practices onto those seeking care. This can happen in subtle ways:
when they look for commonalities, universalize their beliefs and practices,
or assume others believe and practice their religious faith in similar ways. In
order to counteract this intuitive tendency to universalize, they need to pay
attention to differences, which is a way of respecting and valuing what is
unique in the careseeker.
2. Next, students need to be theologically accountable.9 They need to use their
theological education (formal and informal) to reflect critically upon the
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TEACHING SPIRITUAL CARE ONLINE USING ONLINE CHATS
ways they are making sense of the careseeker’s beliefs and practices in order
to be able to set aside these frameworks temporarily in order to see anew
the unique aspects of the careseeker’s beliefs and practices, especially the
embedded beliefs and practices that surface in life-threatening experiences
when irrevocable losses are often experienced. When students are able to
step outside of their usual theological frames and enter the religious world
of the careseeker, especially his or her embedded beliefs and practices, a relationship of trust is more likely to be established, opening up the possibility of
collaboratively engaging in a process of exploring the benefits and liabilities
of the careseeker’s beliefs and practices. Paradoxically, caregivers do all of
this complicated theological self reflection in order to set aside their theological framework and step into the religious or spiritual world of a careseeker.10
3. Finally, a bridge needs to be built between the caregiver’s religious world and
the religious/existential world of the careseeker. Once this trust is established
and this bridge is built, both the caregiver and careseeker are more likely to
recognize and creatively work with the jarring moments in their spiritual care
encounter, moments of “alterity”11 that open up new ways of knowing and
experiencing the sacred. I have described this interaction using an action-reflection action method of theological reflection, paraphrasing the way pastoral theologian, Loren Townsend, describes this method in figure 1.12
1. The caregiver and careseeker
are jarred by aspects of the careseeker’s
story that de-center and push them
outside of the usual ways of knowing.
5. They test these meanings
and practices: do they connect
them with a sense of the sacred?
4. New provisional, contextual
meanings and practices emerge.
2. The sense of “not-knowing”
opens them up to new ways of knowing and experiencing the sacred.
3. They actively engage in
religious world-making in a
dialogical way.
Figure 1. Hermeneutical Circulation method
Reflecting Theologically on the
Careseeker’s Spiritual Meaning-Making
In reflecting on their first verbatim, students articulate how they are theologically making sense of the careseeker’s spiritual practices and meaningmaking, using these steps:
Doehring
69
A.Free association
Think about the spiritual caregiver’s narrative. Let yourself mediate on the
story, letting it “roll around in your mind while asking the open general
question, “What theological, spiritual, religious themes pop into my mind
as I simply sit with this [story]?”13 Write down the theological, biblical, or
literary stories, themes, images or pieces of music (like hymns) that come to
mind.
B.Critical reflection
How does this theme or image help you make theological sense of your careseeker’s experience? How does it fit the careseeker’s experience; in what
ways doesn’t it fit? If you were to engage in further critical reflection on this
theme or image, how would you do this (for example, would you use biblical critical methods, or a particular theologian to think further about this
theme)? If so, write a paragraph on how you would use these readings to
think further about this theme or image. You may need to think beyond your
pastoral care courses in order to retrieve travelling knowledge gained in other courses that are part of your degree program, like courses on the bible,
theology, ethics, and church history. For example, if you have found Susan
Nelson’s five paradigms14 for understanding suffering15 helpful, how might
you use these paradigms to think further about the image, story, or theme? If
there is a biblical critical method you have used in the past, how would you
use it to think further about a biblical image? In answering these questions,
describe the process you would go through to use these second order ways
of reflecting on your image, theme, or story.
C.Preparing for the second conversation
Having identified and elaborated a theological theme/image that helps you,
you are going to try and set aside your own ways of making sense of the
careseeker’s experiences in order to step into the careseeker’s religious/existential world and hear the particular and unique meanings he or she creates.
Describe a spiritual practice you can use just before your second conversation that can help you not impose your theology on the careseeker. This spiritual practice will help you come with an open heart and mind ready to be
jarred by what is new and unexpected.
After their second conversation, students go through the following
steps to identify both the theological meanings they were predisposed to
hear, based on their reflections in their first assignment, and also what was
unexpected. They analyze their verbatim conversations using the following
steps. First, they highlight in bold anything the careseeker says or implies
about her or his religious/spiritual beliefs, practices, or images of God that
they were expecting to hear. Second, they highlight in bold and underline
anything the careseeker says or implies that is unexpected or jarring. In re-
70
flecting on the conversation, students focus on the jarring moments and describe how they gained new insight into the careseeker’s life, and spiritual
practices or meanings. They also use second order theological language to
reflect upon what they have learnt, using class readings. Finally, students
also identify any provisional theological claims or ways of connecting with
God/a sense of the sacred that seemed to emerge in the course of the conversation, especially in the jarring moments. They reflect on how they might
build on these in future conversations and in planning care.
Below are illustrative excerpts from two spiritual care conversations
based on the story, “Mr. Green.”16 In this story a Roman Catholic Vietnamese woman immigrates to New Orleans with a parrot, Mr. Green, which
her Confucian grandfather gave her, his only grandchild, before he died. In
many ways Mr. Green represents her grandfather: his anti-Catholic and sexist prejudices and his commitment to stay behind in Hanoi in order to honor
the spirit of his ancestors.
She has cared for this parrot ever since her grandfather’s death sixteen
years ago. When her parrot becomes aged (ninety-one years old by her reckoning) and cranky, he starts methodically pulling out his feathers. He begins
to imitate the way her grandfather coughed before his death. Mr. Green intones the words, “Not possible” in her grandfather’s voice over and over
again. She tries medical remedies to no avail. For the first time, he bites her
hard and she bleeds. Finally, she decides to end the parrot’s life and she
quickly twists his neck, the way she was taught to kill birds prepared for
dinner by her mother. At the end of the story she describes going to daily
Mass at her church in New Orleans, which has a Mass celebrated in Vietnamese. The story ends with this description:
I sit near the back and I look at the section where all the old women go.
They take Eucharist every day of their lives and they sit together wearing their traditional dresses and with their hair in scarves rolled upon on
their heads and I wonder if that is where I will finally end up, in the old
women’s section at Mass each day. No one in my church will likely live as
long as a parrot. But our savior lived only thirty-three years, so maybe it’s
not important. There were women around Jesus when He died, the two
Marys. They couldn’t do anything for Him. But neither could the men,
who had all run away.17
In using this story to construct a fictional role-play, a Korean male student role-played this woman, whom he named Lanko (she has no name in
the story). His learning partner, Ken, role-played the priest of the parish. In
these conversations, Lanko visits her parish priest to talk about the religious
Doehring
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struggles she experienced when her parrot seemed to be near the end of his
life.
Following are excerpts from the first conversation between Ken, a Roman Catholic priest in New Orleans and Lanko, a forty-year-old Vietnamese
woman in his parish, who regularly attends Mass:
Lanko: “When I was 24, my grandfather passed away...The parrot, Mr. Green,
was left to me.”
Ken:
“I am sorry; that must have been painful for you. Did receiving the parrot of your grandfather help you to feel close to your grandfather after
his death?”
Lanko: “Strangely enough, it seemed like Mr. Green relied on me, and I relied
on Mr. Green…Several weeks ago, Mr. Green began to show what my
grandfather showed in his last days…he began to resemble the cough
my grandfather did before he died…”
Ken:
“I can tell that this has been a very difficult time for you.”
Lanko: “I loved my grandfather. I always missed his love, his touch, and his
warm words...”
Ken:
“It sounds like you had a very close relationship. [Your grandfather’s]
passing, and the sickness of Mr. Green must have been very difficult for
you.”
Lanko: “I decided to release them from pain and from wandering.”
Ken:
“Mr. Green and your grandfather’s soul?”
Lanko: “Yes. It seemed like they wanted it…I could not bear to see them or all
of us being hurt and painful, so I helped Mr. Green to be free from this
world.”
Ken:
“Lanko, I am sorry.”
Lanko: “I pray for my grandfather’s soul, and my ancestors’ souls.”
Ken:
“Praying for others’ souls, and our own, is a good way to pray.”
Lanko: “I see many old women praying and attending the Eucharist every day,
wearing their traditional dresses and with their hair in scarves rolled
up on their heads.”
Ken:
“Ah yes, they are the women who come regularly. It is good that you
are attending regularly too.”
Lanko: “I wonder what will happen to my soul as a Catholic, and to my grandfather’s soul as a Confucian. I realized I also innately have the Asian
traditional spirituality.”
Ken:
“There are many ways of being spiritual, and being Catholic does not
mean you cannot honor your Asian spirituality. While the Catholic
Church has doctrine and teachings, I personally feel that we must al-
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ways apply these teachings and doctrines to our own lives, our own
situations.”
Lanko: “I am glad to hear that. I feel very safe, being comforted…”
Excerpts from the second conversation with expected comments in bold type
and with jarring themes bolded and underlined, as follow:
Ken:
“When we talked last, you were telling me about your grandfather, and
about Mr. Green, the parrot.”
Lanko: “I am trying to be in peace with the confusion I have been experiencing.” (I expected this, as this theme of confusion was in our first
conversation).
Ken:
“Can you tell me something about that?”
Lanko: “When Jesus died the disciples couldn’t do anything.” (This was unexpected and jarring…She feels helpless, as the disciples were over the
death of Jesus.)
Ken:
“The disciples were not able to prevent the death of Jesus; that is true…”
Lanko: “His death makes me wonder about many things like death, soul,
spirit.” (I was expecting to hear this theme: “her confusion about death
and her grandfather’s soul and spirit.). “After all, Mr. Green cannot be
the place for my grandfather’s soul. I know it. I just loved my grandfather, and just wanted to respect my grandfather.” (I was expecting
to hear this theme of respect and love for her grandfather.)
Ken:
“Mr. Green was a way to feel spiritually connected to your grandfather.
I know you were very close to him…”
Lanko: “And I am trying to accept the mysteries of living and death...meeting and parting...Our religion is more about our living, isn’t it?” (I
find it unexpected or jarring that in the midst of her confusion she is
able to make this connection to how her religion can be life-giving.)
Ken:
“This sounds like you are working hard at gathering meaning from
this.”
Lanko: “You know, sometimes, death seems to make people think living
anew.” (Again, this is unexpected because it is a change from the questions about spirit and soul, to an affirmation of living.)
Ken:
“Do you feel you are living anew?”
Lanko: “Maybe because I cannot do anything about death, that realization
seems to allow me to see my living as more precious.” (This is unexpected because she seems to be embracing life here, which is a change
from questioning death.)
In his reflections on this conversation, Ken elaborated on the ways that
the jarring moments offered opportunities in further conversations to build
upon the provisional contextual truth claims that emerged in this conversa-
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73
tion: “our religion is more about our living;” “death seems to make people
think about living anew;” seeing “my living as more precious.” These affirmations seem to be provisional truth claims that have emerged for Lanko
in the course of her spiritual care conversations with Ken. In addition, her
participation in the Eucharist seems to be a faith practice that connects her
more deeply with God in life-giving ways. Her reference to the women at
the cross seems to indicate that she is moving towards an understanding of
how women’s ways of caring and knowing God are life-giving. She may be
at long last coming to terms with conflicts about her faith and gender identity caused by her grandfather’s rejection of her as a girl and a Catholic. This
second conversation gives us glimpses of the kind of spiritual practices and
meanings being co-constructed by Lanko and Ken on the bridge of trust between their religious worlds.
Evaluating Spiritual Chats as an Online Teaching Strategy
There are obvious drawbacks to doing spiritual care conversations in an online format. There was no use of body language or visual cues about the
careseeker’s social location (such as gender, race, ethnic, age identity, etc.).
Some students are more likely to disengage emotionally or, in one instance,
became too emotionally immersed in the conversation. Disengagement
came through in the ways in which caregivers had trouble getting onboard
with the story line and into the flow of the conversation. Emotional fusion
became an issue in one partnership, when the student seeking care became
increasingly angry when her partner did not respond in the way she thought
he should. She had created a character with intense needs, which made her
emotionally reactive in ways that overwhelmed her partner.
There were numerous advantages to using online chat spiritual care
conversations for verbatim case studies. First, students worked with the
actual, rather than a reconstructed, transcript. Second, the transcript was
available immediately, which meant they could move on to doing their reflections without the delay of reconstructing a transcription. Third, students
had a few seconds to stop and think about how they were going to respond.
They had the opportunity to concentrate without distractions (either internal or external). Fourth, they could use detailed feedback about what they
had actually said as they prepared themselves for their second and third
conversations with the same careseeker. Fifth, the teaching team could assess the differences between (1) students who needed to learn skills and who
74
were able to change in subsequent conversations after getting feedback, and
(2) students who either had situational or personality dynamics that made
it difficult for them to change over the course of three conversations. For example, one student experiencing situational limitations had not been able to
clear his schedule to keep up with the weekly assignments. He was trying
to “wing it” in his online conversations without having done the readings,
assignments, and the group discussions. Another student experiencing personality-style limitations took charge of the first conversation where she was
the caregiver and subsequently received detailed feedback from the teaching team about the need to ask open-ended questions and use a listening/
following style so that the caregiver could tell the story in her own words, at
her own pace. She continued to use a directing and informing style of communication in subsequent conversations. She was not able to change her
“take charge” stance, which seemed to have been hardwired from her previous career as a health care administrator.
Overall the students and the teaching team felt that the advantages of
using transcripts from a series of online conversations outweighed the disadvantages of using a reconstructed verbatim from a single face-to-face caregiving encounter. In my twenty years of teaching the introductory course on
pastoral care, I was able to give much more detailed feedback than I ever
had in previous courses and the students were able to demonstrate how
they used feedback. The quality of clinical learning was comparable to the
kind of learning possible in clinical pastoral education or clinical supervision of pastoral counseling in which sessions are tape recorded.18
The illustrations of how students used fictional characters from short
stories to role-play online spiritual care chats suggest ways that the timehonored practice of learning pastoral care through verbatims can be adapted creatively to online teaching. The advantage of using short stories to
construct role-plays is that the artistry of the stories provides multi-layered
narratives that often capture the ambiguity of religious faith. When students
step into the religious worlds of characters like Lipsha and Lanko, they need
to draw upon both theological and intercultural empathy. They need to find
ways to move beyond theological literacy to theological fluency19 as they
imagine being a Chippewa young man combining Chippewa and Catholic
traditions or a Vietnamese Roman Catholic woman finding spiritual solace
in the Eucharist at her New Orleans parish. They are more likely to avoid
becoming re-immersed in their own life stories by playing a role of someone
so different from themselves.
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It is both an advantage and disadvantage for students providing care
to know ahead of time the narrative complexity of the careseeker’s religious
world. Unrealistically, caregivers know all about the struggles that careseekers are experiencing. For example, Eric knows ahead of time the tragic circumstances of Lipsha’s grandfather’s death. Ken knows all about the deaths
of Mr. Green and Lanko’s grandfather. One way to limit this kind of omniscience is to have students role-playing the careseeker pick from a wide
range of stories and not disclose to their partners the narrative source of
their role-play. The challenge of doing this is that it’s often difficult to find
stories that portray faith crises; the sources for such stories are limited.20
Overall, I found the use of short stories as role-plays an engaging and
lively way to create case studies, especially for beginning students who
might not have had many opportunities for spiritual care conversations.
Having students read each other’s verbatims and reflections when they had
access to the narrative richness of the role-playing, offered them several
ways of learning about intercultural spiritual care. After a year of teaching
spiritual care in online formats, I am excited about the possibilities of using
fictional verbatims, especially in online teaching contexts where students
may not have access to real-life opportunities for spiritual care. I invite readers to experiment in this venue. I hope that we can share our experiences
and learn together about how to teach spiritual care in an online format.
NOTES
1.
J. Russell Burck, “Verbatim,” in Rodney J. Hunter, ed., Dictionary of Pastoral Counseling
and Care (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1990), 1300–1301.
2.
J. P. Maney and Tom Hazuka, eds., A Celestial Omnibus: Short Fiction on Faith (Boston,
MA: Beacon Press, 1997).
3.
See Carrie Doehring, “Chapter 9,” The Practice of Pastoral Care: A Postmodern Approach
(Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press, 2006), 143–163.
4.
Louise Erdrich, “Love Medicine,” in Maney and Hazuka, eds., A Celestial Omnibus,
197–216.
5.
Emmanuel Y. Lartey describes three ways which Western and non-Western practitioners of pastoral and spiritual care relate to each other: globalization (the exporting and importing of Western models of pastoral care), internationalization (attempts
at dialogical engagement that continues to see Western practices as normative), and
indigenization (non-Western models and practices are re-evaluated, re-adopted and
utilized in pastoral practice). See Emmanuel Lartey, “Globalization, Internationalization, and Indigenization of Pastoral Care and Counseling,” in Nancy J. Ramsay, ed.,
Pastoral Care and Counseling: Redefining the Paradigms (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press,
2004), 87–108.
76
6.
Emmanuel Y. Lartey, Pastoral Theology in an Intercultural World (Cleveland, OH: Pilgrim Press, 2006), 11.
7.
Pastoral theologian Kathleen Greider helpfully distinguishes among (1) multiculturalism (the coexistence of multiple cultures), (2) cross-cultural interaction across acknowledged cultural differences and (3) interculturality (“...engagement by a multicultural population in cross-cultural communication characterized not only by careful
differentiation and measured collaboration but also by vibrant interrelatedness and,
ideally, day-to-day cooperation.”). See Kathleen J. Greider, “From Multiculturality to
Interculturality: Demilitarizing the Border between Personal and Social Dynamics
through Spiritual Receptivity,” Journal of Supervision and Training in Ministry 22 (2002):
41. See also Kathleen J. Greider, “Soul Care amid Religious Plurality: Excavating an
Emerging Dimension of Multicultural Challenge and Competency,” in Jeanne Stevenson-Moessner and Teresa Snorton, eds., Women Out of Order: Risking Change and Creating Care in a Multicultural World (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2010), 293–313.
8.
Carrie Doehring, “The Practice of Relational-Ethical Pastoral Care” in Marina Riemslagh, Roger Burggraeve, Joseph Corveleyn, and Axel Liégeois, eds., After You: The Ethics of the Pastoral Counselling Process (Leuven, Belgium: Uitgeverij Peeters, in press).
9.
Carrie Doehring, “Theological Accountability: The Hallmark of Pastoral Counseling,”
Sacred Spaces 1 (2009): http://www.aapc.org/sacredspaces/185 (Last accessed June 3,
2009).
10. The term religious world has been coined by William Paden, Religious Worlds: The
Comparative Study of Religion, 2nd ed. (Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 1994). It describes
each person’s religious faith as a compilation or bricolage of multiple religious and
spiritual symbols, beliefs, and schema, all generated out of the web of relationships in
which they are embedded.
11. Elaine Graham was one of the first pastoral theologians to describe pastoral practice
as an encounter with alterity: “Through pastoral encounter with others, participants
will experience the paradox of familiarity and otherness which situates them within,
and draws them beyond, the present and immediate. Can we regard authentic pastoral practice, therefore, as that which draws us into encounter with the ‘Other’, towards a deeper understanding of our own identity-in-relation? The process of going
beyond the situated and concrete in the encounter with the Other may also serve as
a metaphor for the human experience of the transcendent. It speaks of an encounter
with transcendence and authentic faith occurring at the very point of loss of certainty
and self-possession: divine activity and presence encountered in the mystery of alterity.” See Elaine Graham, Transforming Practice: Pastoral Theology in an Age of Uncertainty
(New York, NY: Mowbray, 1996), 206–207.
12. Loren Townsend describes this method of theological reflection as hermeneutical circulation: “Hermeneutical circulation begins (step 1) when counselor and client are
drawn into a therapeutic story and ‘jarred’ by the client’s experience and its relational
meaning. Both client and counselor experience the limitations of their understanding
(step 2) and turn to conversations with theological sources outside the counseling relationship (step 3). These would include conversations with faith traditions, theological principles, biblical stories, behavioral sciences (as common human experience),
and others’ personal experience. These conversations broaden horizons (step 4) and
present new options that can widen the scope of action in counseling (step 5).” See
Loren Townsend, Introduction to Pastoral Counseling (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press,
2009), 140.
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77
13. Pamela Cooper-White, Shared Wisdom: Use of Self in Pastoral Care and Counseling (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press), 74.
14. See Susan Nelson, “Facing Evil: Evil’s Many Faces, Five Paradigms for Understanding Evil,” Interpretation 57, no. 4 (2003): 398–413. Nelson describes five ways of understanding suffering: (1) a traditional moral theology which, in life-limiting embedded
theologies often formed in childhood, emphasizes God as judge and individual sin
as the punishment or consequences of wrong doing; (2) redemptive theology, which
retrospectively sees how new life can come out of suffering; (3) eschatological theology in which life-giving moments of grace and compassion offer hope for the future;
(4) theologies of lament and protest against the irrevocable losses of radical suffering;
(5) theologies of ambiguity about how tragic suffering arises from our embeddedness
in complex relational webs of life-enhancing and life-limiting/abusive power (often
these theologies use process theological ways of understanding God’s power). I use
her article as an introduction to theodicy.
15. Ibid.
16. Robert O. Butler, “Mr. Green,” in Maney and Hazuka, eds., A Celestial Omnibus, 40–48.
17. Ibid., 48.
18. Wilson describes a clinical teaching strategy of having students do face-to-face spiritual care conversations (called virtual visits) with volunteers instead of reconstructions of past conversations. The virtual visits were observed by others sitting behind
a one-way mirror and could also be videotaped with permission. See Douglas R. Wilson, “Virtual Visiting Seminar Replaces Verbatim Seminar in Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE),” Journal of Pastoral Care and Counseling 58, nos. 1–2 (2004): 95–100.
19. Carrie Doehring, “Theological Literacy and Fluency in a New Millennium: A Pastoral
Theological Perspective,” in Rodney L. Petersen with Nancy M. Rourke, eds., Theological Literacy for the Twenty–first Century (Grand Rapids, MI.: Eerdmans, 2002), 311–324.
20. I have also used stories from C. Michael Curtis, ed., God Stories (New York, NY:
Houghton Mifflin, 1998).
The Same? Not The Same?
Online Spiritual Direction, Supervision, and Training
John R. Mabry
“Online spiritual direction?” Karen asked, with a horrified look on her face.
“Oh, I could never do that.” We were catching up after a meeting, and I had
mentioned the work that I was doing with one of my clients via email.
“Why not?” I asked, a little playfully; but I knew “why not.” This was
the same response I received from many colleagues whenever this particular subject was addressed—shock and mild revulsion. The reasons for this
antipathy are usually the same—the diminished intimacy, the lack of information (especially body language), but more than anything else, I believe,
resistance to change because of the attachment we all feel to the familiar.
“It wouldn’t be the same,” she said after a few moments of consideration. She was right. Online spiritual direction isn’t the same—but it has arrived, it isn’t going away, and the ministry of spiritual direction or spiritual
guidance will never be the same either.
Online Spiritual Direction
Spiritual Direction via Chat Rooms
I’ve been doing online spiritual direction in one form or another for almost
as long as people have been going online. My first experience of this was
John R. Mabry, PhD, Director of the Interfaith Spiritual Direction Certificate Program,
Chaplaincy Institute for Arts and Interfaith Ministry, and pastor, Grace North Church,
2138 Cedar St., Berkeley, CA 94709 (Email: apocryphile@me.com).
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79
with an online spiritual ritual group called the “Online Celebration Circle.”
We met in an AOL chat room in the mid-1990s, at 6 pm on Tuesday nights
twice per month. As many as twenty of us and as few as three or four, we
came from all parts of the United States, and using Matthew Fox’s Original
Blessing as a lectionary, we met for ritual, prayer, and spiritual discernment
around the themes presented in Fox’s book.
This was the online counterpart of a real-world ritual group I also organized, called the “Berkeley Celebration Circle.” Even back then, in the
primitive chat-room era, I was comparing real-world experiences with their
digital analogs. What I discovered was enlightening, and has guided all of
my subsequent online ministry endeavors: it wasn’t the same, but it was
valuable.
If my evaluation of the Online Celebration Circle was dependent upon
how closely it conformed to the experience of participating in the Berkeley
Celebration Circle, then it was an unmitigated failure. The experience was
very, very different. Gone were the dances, the smiles, the shimmer of the
tears in candlelight, and the sounds of sighing too deep for words. In its
place was a single candle on my desk before my computer and whatever
light classical or new age music I happened to have on the CD player for atmosphere, and the scrolling lines of text that appeared in the little window
on my screen.
So, not the same, by any means. Yet, what about the content of those
scrolling lines of text? What did they reveal? They connected me with real
people, usually far away from Berkeley, California—Jewish Megan in upstate New York; Willa in Minneapolis, catechist for the Polish National Catholic Church; Wiccan Fanny in Illinois; and many, many others over the couple of years that we met. We celebrated themes that had real impact on our
lives and our spirituality. We shared intimate details, confessed struggles
and doubts, solicited advice and theological opinions, challenged each other, disagreed with each other, edified and encouraged each other. We made
community. We grew as human beings. We grew spiritually.
Was it the same as the Berkeley ritual group? No. Was it valuable in its
own right? Absolutely. Anyone who was a part of it would agree—it was
important to us, it stretched us, it connected us to one another and to the Divine. A couple of years later, as I was touring the East Coast, I stayed with
Megan and her husband. We had never met before face-to-face but we were
already good friends. Our connection was real, even when we crossed the
digital-to-analog barrier.
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The same? Not the same?
Lawson Barnes defines worship as “any activity that helps us to connect—to our deepest selves, to one another, to God.”1 By this definition, the
Online Celebration Circle was an authentic worship experience. My own
definition of spiritual guidance is “facilitating the deepening of one’s intimacy with the Divine.” As a leader of spiritual direction groups, I believe the
Online Celebration Circle succeeded in facilitating its members’ intimacy
with the Divine and with one another. It was different, but it was effective.
Spiritual Direction via Email
Not long after completing my training in spiritual direction at the Mercy Center
in Burlingame, California, I received an email request from Jane, a woman in
New Orleans looking for a spiritual director. She had stumbled upon my website and was wondering if I would consider taking her on as a client and working via email. As you might expect, I found this a novel and exciting prospect.
The history of epistolary spiritual direction is long, well-honored, and
well-attested. The letters of Paul to the churches under his care are the earliest examples in the Christian tradition, but the examples since then are too numerous to name, so successful is this medium of spiritual guidance. The use
of email is no different, except that the time that elapses between exchanges is
almost non-existent.
The strategy Jane and I settled upon was as follows: early in a given
month, she would write me one substantive letter, and would email it to me.
I would read that letter, and then sit with it for a week before responding.
At the end of the week, I would write her a substantive reply. She would
then read that and sit with it for a week before writing me again. I, in turn,
would read and reflect for a week before my response. Thus, every month
she would write two letters, and I would respond with two letters, each
with a week of reflection between the reading and the response. And every
month, she would send me a check equal to my normal fee for one hour of
spiritual direction.
It worked very well indeed. The week in between responses provided virtual “contemplative space” in which to discern the Voice of the Divine and to carefully consider how to reply. I learned that greater personal
sharing on my part was necessary to establish the same level of intimacy
that I was able to achieve in face-to-face sessions, and after a while I found
the proper place to set those boundaries in this medium. While we are on
the subject of boundaries, I should mention that the letters never took me
more than a half hour to write, so my time was appropriately used and com-
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pensated. And real connection happened, real discernment was done, real
growth occurred. The same? Hardly. Valuable? Very.
Not long after, I got another request from a woman in Wisconsin for
email spiritual direction. We tried it for a while, but it was a very different
relationship, and due to a great deal of resistance, the email medium was
not as effective. We switched to using the telephone after several months of
trying email and had a much more fruitful experience. But with my client
in New Orleans, it is nearly ten years later now, and we are still “meeting”
via email.
Spiritual Direction via Instant Messaging
I have not attempted spiritual direction via instant messaging (I/M) so I
cannot report as to its effectiveness first-hand. My opinion is that when
it is used via a small hand-held device such as a cell phone, the length of
exchange and the inconvenience of typing long strings of text with one’s
thumbs make it an unruly medium for serious spiritual direction. However,
when it is used at a full-sized keyboard, where typing can be done quickly
and longer strings of text do not become burdensome, it could work very
well. The “Online Celebration Circle” used a very similar technology, and if
it worked in a group context, I see no reason why it could not be similarly
effective for one-to-one sessions.
Group Spiritual Direction via a ListServe or Facebook
A ListServe or Facebook page set up specifically for the purpose of spiritual
discernment and mutual spiritual support can work very well, allowing a
non-synchronous (people don’t have to be present online at the same time)
environment for reflection and sharing. Advantages are that people can take
as long as they need for contemplation, posting when things are “ripe” for
sharing, and allowing multiple conversation “threads” at one time to develop and unfold. Also, members can share items for prayer or discernment
in real-time, as they occur, without having to wait until the next in-person
meeting.
If someone needs support immediately, all he or she need do is post—
within minutes other group members will reach out, acknowledging their
comprehension and concern, assuring the member in crisis that they are
praying for him or her, offering emotional support and asking what else
they might do. A disadvantage to this kind of group is that members can
easily get off-topic or can respond to one another unkindly. Thus it requires
a moderator with strong boundaries to make sure the group stays on-topic
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and to filter out extraneous and inappropriate messages, especially amongst
groups that are “open” to anyone who wants to join.
When well-managed, such groups can effectively build spiritual community and intimacy, especially in “closed” groups where real trust can be
built among people who come to know one another and can be accountable to one another. The same as an in-person spiritual direction group? No.
Valuable? Very.
Spiritual Direction via Skype
Skype is the single greatest advance for those of us interested in doing spiritual direction online. Skype is a free program (downloadable from www.
skype.com) that runs on any platform, sets up quickly and easily, and allows
one to speak to anyone else running Skype anywhere in the world. Skype is
more than simply a free world-wide telephone service—Skype allows you
to see the person you are speaking to as well. I have a large, 27-inch iMac,
which is perfect for Skype. The camera and microphone are built-in, so all
I have to do is call up the program and call someone. When the connection
is made, her face fills my computer screen, a little larger than real-life. I see
her in her own environment. I see every facial feature, every reaction, every
twitch, whether she leans in or leans back, crosses her arms, smiles, frowns,
or wrinkles her nose.
The immediacy of Skype has been a little hard to get used to. Her face
is huge, about a foot and a half from my eyes. If we were face-to-face and
she appeared that large, she would either be a giant or our knees would be
touching. I had to do some internal adjustment in order to avoid the irrational feeling of having my personal space invaded. This is not a problem
for people with smaller screens. When I am in my office at the church and
working on my laptop, this problem vanishes. I mention this because it was
the most uncomfortable adjustment I had to make with Skype. The problem
was too much intimacy or at least more intimacy with which one is comfortable in face-to-face settings.
Despite this caveat, I am convinced that the main objections to online
spiritual direction vanish with the advent of Skype. Using Skype is almost
identical to being in the same room with someone. They are there before
you, life-sized (or even larger), body language on full display, responding
to you in real time, talking normally. The intimacy and response that one
is used to in face-to-face sessions is actually possible. Intellectually, I know
that the person is not in the room with me, but once our eyes meet and we
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83
begin to talk, once the real work of spiritual guidance begins, the fact that
she is speaking to me out of a glass window actually disappears. In my experience, the intimacy and the intuition that I rely on in a session is fully
present and just as available. The same? Well…yes, actually. Valuable? Infinitely. Here’s why.
Skype opens up the world of spiritual direction because it makes geography irrelevant. I can build up a lively spiritual direction practice even if I
live on a remote farm in North Dakota, because I can meet with my clients
“face-to-face” via Skype whether they live in Mexico, Florida, Moscow, or
Sao Paulo—location becomes a non-issue. If the Internet is the great equalizer for business, Skype is the great equalizer for spiritual direction. Anyone can do it, anywhere, and nothing that one values about the face-to-face
session is lost. The business side of spiritual direction via Skype is equally
workable. One can set up a PayPal account and receive payment for your
services from around the world.
I have several clients whom I see via Skype. Some clients live near enough
that when they are in my area for other matters they will schedule an in-person
meeting, but then we will meet via Skype on months that do not bring them
to my city. Others meet with me only via Skype. I find this way of working every bit as valuable and satisfying as actually meeting in person. There are also
personal advantages to online spiritual direction via Skype. I need not rent an
office or burn fossil fuels to get to the office—and if I work at home, I may be
very casually dressed as long as what is visible on Skype is presentable.
Online Supervision
The Interfaith Spiritual Direction Certificate Program at the Chaplaincy Institute for Arts and Interfaith Ministry in Berkeley is an 18-month, low-residency program. Because we only meet quarterly, for a week at a time, we
have students from all over the United States. After the second week of instruction, students are required to begin to see clients in an unpaid capacity,
one session with one client per month for the first six months and then two
sessions per month with two clients for the next six months.
As Director of the program, it is my responsibility to ensure the quality of our instruction, including adequate supervision for our students. They
are invited to seek out trained supervisors in their own areas, but because
many of them have difficulty finding local supervisors who are comfortable
working in an interfaith context, they often turn to one of our instructors for
84
supervision. When we live in Berkeley, California and the student lives in
Nebraska, this would have been problematic in an earlier time.
It used to be that I would work with such students by telephone. That
practice was far from ideal. With the advent of Skype, however, working
with these students is as easy as working with anyone in a face-to-face context. I am confident that my Skype supervisees are getting the same quality
of care that my in-person clients or supervisees receive and they enjoy working in this medium as well. The same? Very nearly so. Valuable? Since several of our students would not be able to find adequate supervision without
it, absolutely.
Online Training
For many, the idea that you can train people to do spiritual direction online
is even more abhorrent than the notion of doing spiritual direction online.
But at the Institute of Transpersonal Psychology (ITP), we are forging a new
model of training that is doing just that. Like the Chaplaincy Institute program, the ITP program is low-residency, requiring students to attend a week
of face-to-face instruction every quarter. Unlike the Chaplaincy Institute
program, however, ITP offers an accredited Master’s degree in Interfaith
Spiritual Guidance. The instruction continues over two years.
Between the quarterly face-to-face meetings, students are engaged
as full-time students in online classes. These expand upon the theory and
practice they received in the intensives, introducing increasingly advanced
concepts, and offering opportunity to interact with fellow students and instructors via the Blackboard Learn—ANGEL Edition web-based learning
platform, its online message boards, and email. In addition, they are continuing their dyad work, practicing their new spiritual direction skills with
one another via Skype.
As instruction proceeds, student advising is conducted via telephone
and email, and instructors stay in touch with one another via email. When
students are ready to meet with clients, they are encouraged to do so in a
face-to-face context where they live and are supervised locally. However, if
students wish, they may see clients who are not local via Skype and be supervised by Skype as well. To date, the online master’s program in spiritual
guidance has been well received. Is it the same as a completely face-to-face
training program? Not at all. Is it valuable? If the student evaluations of
our first quarter of instruction are any indication, it is very valuable indeed.
Mabry
85
The Chaplaincy Institute and ITP graduates represent a new, emerging generation of spiritual directors who are comfortable with technology.
If they aren’t when they begin their instruction, they will be by the time
they are finished! They will not be limited by geography when seeking clients, but will be available to the world. Furthermore, their creative insights
and ease with technology will take this ministry into places we cannot envision today.
Conclusion
The chief advantage of online spiritual direction is the irrelevancy of place.
It means that people in the most remote areas can find spiritual guidance
with a director who is a good fit. The “Seek and Find” online spiritual director-finder at the Spiritual Directors International website, www.sdiworld.
org, lists directors by region, but will also allow seekers to search by criteria such as religious orientation or affiliation. It also means that those for
whom it is difficult to find a spiritual community that resonates with them
in their own area can find and participate in online discernment groups that
nurture them.
Online direction is a boon not only for lay people searching for appropriate directors or groups, but for those in professional ministry as well.
One of the biggest problems for ministers is isolation. Clergy and other religious professionals often have difficulty finding professional support or
spiritual guidance. It may be that they are working in rural areas or overseas and the only access to spiritual direction they have is with those of
another culture or with different theological assumptions. Online spiritual
direction can help such people find what they need in spiritual guidance,
supervision, or support groups.
Online direction is good not just for clients, but for those of us who offer the ministry. Because we are longer bound by location, people can build
healthy practices no matter where they live. It means that those with no access to training programs where they live can receive training. It also means
that skilled and appropriate supervision is always available.
Spiritual direction, like worship, is about fostering connection between the seeker and the Divine. Online media connect people in authentic
and practical ways that are unprecedented in human history. The idea that
technology is antithetical to authentic spiritual discernment, or is somehow
“anti-spiritual” in nature is a culturally-based assumption. The Generation
86
X spiritual directors we are training today and the Millennial generation,
coming along for training in about ten years, take this technology for granted. It is already part of their lives. It is increasingly how people are being
educated. It will increasingly be the way in which people offer spiritual
guidance to one another as well.
Is it the same? In some ways yes, in some ways no. Is it valuable? To
paraphrase Gamaliel (Acts 5:38–39), if it isn’t, it will wither. If it is, it will
thrive. My money is on the thriving.
Distance education transcends time and space. Some fear that it is a
destructive force that will lead to isolation and greater individualism
rather than community. Some see distance learning as ‘distancing’ the
student in more significant ways than simply geographic distance…
While it is true that at present a computer-generated learning environment cannot duplicate the face-to-face engagement in the classroom,
advances in technology are moving rapidly. A balance between faceto-face communication either on-campus or in a local area and the use
of communication technology is desirable. Community in either case
is not automatic, nor can it be mandated. Both in the classroom and at
a distance, community requires people who look for others who share
their values and interests, people who assume responsibility for learning, actively participate in life, and view new experiences as opportunities for growth. It is important to note that advances in virtual reality
technology and the increasing availability of them on the Internet allow
for a broadening of our understanding and experience of community.
The classroom can now be expanded to include groups of students, experts, and learning facilities from around the world, all with an interest
in giving and receiving information and exchanging ideas.
Anne Reissner
“An Examination of Formational and Transformational Issues in Conducting
Distance Learning.” in Theological Education 36, no. 1 (Autumn, 1999).
Response to John Mabry
Maria Tattu Bowen
John Mabry’s fine article on spiritual direction in the digital age resonated
well with my own experience as a spiritual director, offering long-distance
direction, supervision, and education with growing frequency over the last
fifteen years. Initially I felt skeptical about engaging by telephone in a ministry requiring careful attention to the subtleties of human experience and
which, in effect, excised the sense of sight that had so often aided me in listening. I have since passed from mildly resisting this long-distance-listening
ministry to thoroughly enjoying and even, at times, preferring it for reasons
I will state below.
I first experienced meeting people over the telephone as I began training
spiritual directors at San Francisco Theological Seminary in the early 1990s.
Then, as now, our program featured intensive training for three weeks each
January, followed by a year of long-distance supervision, then another intensive three weeks in January, followed by another year of long-distance supervision, culminating in a final January intensive. Over the years I have begun to
offer Skype as an option to the telephone to both international students in our
program and to my directees, mostly to avoid long-distance phone charges.
As people become more digitally adept, and as the digitally-adept have
grown more comfortable relating to others via technology, I’ve heard fewer
Maria Tattu Bowen, PhD, is Co-Director of Supervision for San Francisco Theological
Seminary’s spiritual direction and supervision training programs, 85 Liberty Ship Way,
#111, Sausalito, CA 94965 (Email: maria@togetherinthemystery.org)
88
Response to john Mabry
complaints about long-distance direction—barring problems with occasionally unreliable Internet connections. However, I am not quite ready to share
Mabry’s conviction that “the main objections to online spiritual direction
have vanished with the advent of Skype.” Some aspects of long-distance
spiritual direction still give me pause.
For instance, in spite of the visual advantages of Skype, I find myself
eschewing the camera more often than not because video Skype, at least the
way it works on my computer, renders it impossible to engage in a mutual
gaze. While using Skype, I find myself further distanced from my alreadydistant conversation partners as I make the difficult choice between looking at my camera—so that they have the virtual experience of me gazing at
them—and looking at them, which results in their experience of me looking
away (from the camera, and so, in their experience, from them). Either way,
I sense that I’m in the unenviable position of eroding mutuality by feigning
a gaze rather than offering a true gaze,1 which leaves me intentionally fostering a connection with a distant other, while using a technology that creates
an emotional gap even as it attempts to close a geographical one. In short, in
spite of its many advantages, using technology to offer long-distance spiritual direction solves certain problems while creating others.
For example, when considering what it might be like to choose an online
spiritual director whom I have not experienced in person, the analogy of computer dating comes to mind. Is it useful to those who do not regularly cross
paths with eligible partners? Absolutely. Are enduring matches made that
way? Undoubtedly. Are there disadvantages? You bet. For, in computer dating,
potential partners do not have the experience of low-risk, in-person involvement over time prior to making a date. For example, they do not go to church
together, sit in class together, or attend group social events together. Each of
these activities would allow them to observe their potential partners from a
distance, gathering data about how they relate to others and to the community.
In a similar way, choosing a director online can leave one with a dearth
of in-person information gathered over time and few options for low-risk
involvement. I want my spiritual director to be kind and faithful, perceptive, skilled, and sensitive to the Spirit. I might find such qualities in teachers, ministers, and retreat leaders I encounter, or a friend might refer me to
someone they’ve personally experienced. One might be able to learn some
things about a spiritual director online, though perhaps not as much as one
would hope. Also, while many excellent directors no doubt work remotely,
I must admit to feeling disheartened when I encounter a growing number
Bowen
89
of slickly self-promoting one-stop spiritual shops online. Such an apparent
devolution in the process of locating a spiritual director leads me to wonder
whether the increasing popularity of long-distance direction might breed
“superstar” directors, floating with little context in a binary sea and impoverishing local communities in the process.
Spiritual directors do not simply listen to those in their practice, but
they serve as significant resources for their communities, offering evenings
of reflection, retreats, and lectures. In addition, they’re available to listen
in the grocery line, on the bus, at church councils, and in every other local context in which they find themselves, offering wise counsel and invitations to discernment. In this way, and not simply in their private practices,
spiritual directors listen for the reign of God as it breaks into the world and
invite us to respond as we feel called. Should local communities not support such listeners by training them and/or offering them stipends to listen,
preferring instead to pay online directors, they will lose a valuable community resource. Like shopping at the farmer’s market and buying shoes from
the local cobbler, receiving spiritual direction in one’s community—rather
than online—constitutes yet another way of “buying local” to support one’s
neighbors.
This sense of the spiritual director’s contributions to the local community counters Mabry statement that “Skype opens up the world of spiritual
direction because it makes geography irrelevant.” Though I sense Mabry
means by this assertion that people distant from one another can now have
direction conversations via Skype that approximate those they might have
face-to-face, his provocative statement that Skype makes geography irrelevant troubles me. In addition to sundering directors from the local community, long-distance conversations will never yield awe at seeing together
through the office window that hill across that valley glowing in that sunset, or engender shared meaning-making in reference to geographical landmarks, or local politics, that both people in a face-to-face conversation share
on a daily basis. Further, one’s geography figures heavily into one’s spiritual
identity and development2 and shared insight about that geography aids the
spiritual direction process.
As one with a sacramental sense of the world, I believe that careful attention to the concrete and particular reveals Divine Mystery, which is, in
part, what makes both spiritual direction and poetry so effective in creating
a sense of spiritual presence: at their best they each provide a sharp, succinct
focus on particular things. It is precisely this loss of the concrete and par-
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Response to john Mabry
ticular in the local environment that creates for me the biggest obstacle to
long-distance direction—a loss whose consequences have been voiced often
in articles about the malaise experienced by those favoring virtual relationships in a virtual world over real relationships in a real world.
That being said, I have both offered and received long-distance direction and never have I experienced these relationships as virtual rather than
real. Still, if my directee in China had an extended hospital stay there, I could
not visit her; if she had a broken leg I might not know it; and if she needed
a referral, to whom would I send her? The referral question alone invites us
to consider the ethical challenges inherent in long-distance direction and to
discern potential solutions to the dilemmas it raises.
In spite of the challenges of long-distance direction, however, I, too,
have experienced many of the benefits Mabry has so aptly named, and I
have another to add to the mix, one whose power has taken me by surprise:
I can close my eyes while listening. As I do, I find myself hearing more nuances in the conversation, much in the way, perhaps, that having one impaired sense heightens those that remain.
What is more, with my eyes closed, I notice and can respond to a far
greater volume of intuitive information, information that I do not have as
much access to when I engage my consciousness in the visual aspects of the
other. For example, I sense in greater detail the feedback my body is giving
me about the conversation and I see more images in my mind’s eye. In a
sense, then, in offering direction long-distance via phone or audio-Skype, I
sacrifice the visual gaze in the external world exchange for enhanced inner
vision. Spiritual directors, whose best work relies on inner vision, may find
this the greatest benefit of all when it comes to long-distance direction.
In closing, I find myself musing on Francis de Sales, a 17th-century
Bishop of Geneva and Catholic saint who shattered the conventions of his
age by involving himself deeply in the spiritual life during an era when
monks and nuns laid claim to the ladder of perfection, while bishops tended
to the workaday tasks of managing the ministries under their care. Not only
did de Sales attend to his own spiritual life, he had the temerity to encourage
the laity to do the same, and he assumed the role of their advisor in matters
of prayer, often by writing letters of spiritual direction. Further, de Sales reenvisioned the monastic ladder of perfection as an ascending and descending thoroughfare between heaven and earth, one that included lay people
and that, far from escaping the world, blessed it.3
Bowen
91
de Sales and others like him invited lay people to live deeply in the
spiritual life, ruffling more than a few feathers along the way. In providing
a means of receiving spiritual direction to those without adequate choices in
their local communities, present-day long-distance spiritual directors have
ruffled a few feathers of their own.
When Mabry asks whether long-distance spiritual direction is valuable, my answer is a qualified yes, as long as one offers it with integrity,
knowing that it solves some problems while creating others and making
provisions to address the difficulties it raises.
NOTES
1.
See works on the importance of the mutual gaze to human relationships by 20th Century philosopher, Emmanuel Levinas, among others.
2.
Kathleen Norris and Belden C. Lane are two of many voices articulating the impact of
geography on spirituality.
3.
See, in particular Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life, John K. Ryan, trans.
and ed. (New York: Harper, 1950).
Advances in technology have created new possibilities for designing
educational experiences that promote interaction, foster community,
and allow for the development of higher order thinking skills. However, a sizable gap still exists between the computer literate and those
who do not have access to the necessary technology. Distance education with a global reach is a desirable goal, but suitable infrastructures for the emerging technology need to be developed in many developing nations. Further, even though peoples are connected, the
skills of interaction, group process, and information access and use
will need to be part of distance learning. Interactivity does not guarantee a learning community or quality of dialogue. Helping students
make sense of information they have acquired but do not understand
is a critical task.
Linda Cannell
“A Review of Literature on Distance Education” in Theological Education
36, no. 1 (Autumn 1999).
In Search of Theory and Criteria
for the Practice of Distance-Supervision
Gordon J. Hilsman and Angelika A. Zollfrank
The growing ease and efficiency of using electronic media for academic education promises to bring significant benefits to the field of clinical education.
Individual phone sessions, along with the use of email for feedback, have
been widely employed in clinical pastoral education (CPE) programs. Electronic access has been combined with telephone discussions to transmit didactic materials within established groups. Cost effectiveness, an increased
demand for CPE programs, the possibility of more convenient continuing
education opportunities for established practitioners, and the expansion of
accredited programs into geographical, or ministerial areas not previously
accessible, have spurred some CPE programs to extend their use of distanceeducation methods to include activities such as the processing of clinical
material and interpersonal relationship sessions, long characteristic of tra-
Gordon J. Hilsman, DMin, CPE Supervisor, Franciscan Health System, St. Joseph Medical
Center, P O Box 2197, Tacoma WA 98401 (Email: GordonHilsman@FHShealth.org).
Angelika A. Zollfrank, MDiv, Director of Clinical Pastoral Education, Massachussetts
General Hospital, Chaplaincy Department, 55 Fruit St., Founders 624G, Boston, MA 02114
(Email: azollfrank@partners.org).
Hilsman and Zollfrank are current members of the Standards Committee of the Association for Clinical Pastoral Education.
The opinions included here are solely those of the authors and not of the Standards Committee or
the ACPE.
Hilsman and Zollfrank
93
ditional programs accredited by the Association for Clinical Pastoral Education, Inc. (ACPE).
Several programs, either not accredited or accredited by organizations
that do not require clinical preparation, are currently offering to train chaplains completely online. At recent regional and national ACPE conferences,
there has been discussion about experimenting with different uses of distance-education within accredited CPE programs. Such discussions have
often focused on what is possible. Providing clinical supervision-at-a-distance, however, is very different from even the most traditional face-to-face,
interactional methods emerging on the Internet. A firm grounding in written
theological, educational, psychological, and group theory has been a fundamental requirement for certification in organizations such as the ACPE for
decades and that requirement will remain important even when students
work within digital media.
It appears that now is the time for us to ask what professional standards may need to be changed to assure the strong formation of future pastoral caregivers and minimize any possibility of eroding quality in CPE supervision. Each CPE supervisor’s educational rationale needs to be designed
to assist students in achieving their individual learning goals while at the
same time continuing to maintain the high quality goals and standards of
the ACPE. Both the autonomy of supervisory practice on the one hand, and
accountability to the broader professional community on the other, will be
served by a well-crafted rationale for the use of distance-education technologies in accord with the standards of accredited programs.
Two theoretical approaches are presented below in an effort to stimulate further reflection. One is written by Angelika Zollfrank, whose practice is guided by systems-oriented methods, psychodynamic understandings, and a constructionist-developmental theory. The second theoretical
approach is written forth by Gordon J. Hilsman, whose supervision has
been guided by psychoanalytic concepts, addiction recovery wisdom, and
human development perspectives along with an evolutionary, personalist theology. The aim is to present theoretical approaches that explore the
benefits and limitations of using distance-education methods effectively
in CPE.
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In Search of theory and criteria in distance supervision
Theory One: A Systems-Oriented Approach to Transformation
in Pastoral Education
The CPE program at Massachusetts General Hospital uses systems-oriented
theory and training as a primary tool to help students work towards achieving their personal learning goals and the fundamental objectives and outcomes of CPE. The following four key concepts are relevant to distance-supervision and expanded on below: (1) the boundaries in of time and space; (2)
attunement to the other; (3) change and conflict resolution; and (4) phases of
group development.
The Boundaries of Time and Space
Theologically, the relational context of the CPE educational system can
be understood as a space that allows for the grounding of a group of colleagues, individual learners, and the supervisor in the space of G-d’s heart.
The heart of G-d metaphorically refers to the holding space of all life. It is
in this holding environment that life unfolds and transformation becomes
possible. In systems-oriented theory, it is assumed that group systems are
defined in space and time. 1 Boundaries in time and space contain and help
organize the energy of any group, enabling group members and the groupas-a-whole to survive, develop, and transform.2 Space has traditionally referred to a shared geographical meeting place.
In systems-oriented training, much attention is given also to boundaries in time and reality. Students learn how to center themselves in the
here-and-now, allowing them to bring their internal experiences into the
group. There is encouragement to check out assumptions as a way of gathering information and coming into reality in interpersonal relationships.3
All of these skills are crucial to effective pastoral caregiving with patients
and families. While in CPE, students learn to take up their roles as learners,
group members, chaplain interns, and professional caregivers. Through
theological and ethical reflection, they each begin to form their unique pastoral identities.
A CPE supervisor who uses distance-education methods needs to pay
close attention to assure that the boundaries in time and virtual-meeting
space are crossed successfully enough to enable productive work. Energy
and information are seen as equivalent and are both important resources in
systems-oriented work.4 A distance-learning-based CPE group needs to be
especially mindful of developing and accepting norms of communication
that enable information/energy to come into the educational system. As is
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true in any CPE group, information that is shared outside of the boundaries of the educational system is lost for the learning and development of
the group.
Attunement to the Other
Key to human relating and spiritual caregiving is a sense of being understood and met as a person. Good-enough attunement is an important ingredient of CPE supervision—attunement refers to eye-contact, the mirroring of facial expressions, and aligned voice tone. This kind of attunement
can be difficult to achieve, even in face-to-face groups, and CPE groups are
tasked to study and become more aware of times when empathic relating
breaks down. Theologically, such mis-attunement and breaking down of
connection can be understood as separation from vital energy and as an
experience of the disruption of community. In Christian language, bearing
the cross of disconnection becomes the scaffolding for authentic human relating in which each person knows herself or himself to be provisional and
ever in need of G-d’s promise to make complete what is not yet finished,
while simultaneously carrying all of G-d‘s creative potential. It is human
to be disabled by disconnection and distance—and such distance may be
intrapersonal, interpersonal, or geographical in nature. Wisely used, technology in distance-education can become a creative tool—assisting connection. However, the same technology, when used less thoughtfully, may
create mis-attunement and disconnection. While some misunderstanding
is inevitable and needed for growth, it is important for spiritual caregivers
to explore each experience of disconnection and associated feelings. How
will distance-supervision methods help or hinder CPE students in studying the pitfalls, and delights, of human connection that are key for their
ministry?
Traditionally, parallel processes and sufficient isomorphism between
the educational system and students’ pastoral caregiving relationships
have been prime resources to the educational process. The primary questions to be answered are:
• Can these prime resources still be employed with sufficient depth and frequency in distance-supervision?
• Are human emotions, relational dynamics, and attunement sufficiently transmittable through electronic media?
• If the above elements are confirmed to be transmittable through electronic
media, how can such information be brought into the educational systems of
group and individual supervision?
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Disconnection and objectification have long been understood as metaphors for human sin. Acts of acknowledging and feeling, seeing and hearing, attunement and mis-attunement, are important aspects of human reality in a broken world. Acknowledging such brokenness holds the promise
for the liberating process of connection within communities of solidarity
and accountability. CPE is unique in that it consistently measures both skill
development and relational, experiential learning. In fact, the quality of a
student’s educational relationship reveals a CPE program’s pastoral and
ethical depth and strength.
The philosopher Emmanuel Levinas speaks of religious things as creating situations of responsibility that one cannot escape.5 Prior to any conscious observation and reflection, each person’s face becomes the face of the
Other, of G-d. In thinking about standards for CPE distance-supervision,
Levinas is instructive—if indeed we are called in spiritual caregiving to
face others with what they struggle to face, how much more are we as supervisors called in a religious and ethical sense to face our students, to experience with them their struggles, to smell their fear in their Gethsemane
moments?
For Levinas, intersubjective experience becomes ‘ethical’ in the sense
that an “I” discovers its own particularity when it is singled out by the
gaze of the “other.” Viewing the other’s face represents an invocation, a
prayer that compels the listener to hear and respond.6 In that sense, the
face-to-face relationship creates a fundamental learning environment that
confronts those who show up to participate in it. Levinas’ philosophical
contribution relevant to pastoral care and supervision is captured in the
following quote:
The relationship with the Other (Autrui) puts me into question, empties
me of myself and empties me without end, showing me ever new resources. Is the Desire for the Other (Autrui) an appetite or a generosity? The
Desirable does not gratify my Desire but hollows me out, and somehow
nourishes me with new hungers. Desire is revealed to be goodness,…
’insatiable compassion…’7
Although a CPE program based on distance-education methods
may be cost-effective and feasible, the following crucial questions must be
answered:
• How can distance-education make space and time for each participant’s self
in the face-to-face encounter, creating a deep, meaningful locus of relationality and transcendence?
97
• How can CPE programs using distance-education methods help inspire in
the participant nourish the insatiable compassion needed for sustained spiritual caregiving?
• How can distance-learning create consistent communities of presence and
blessedness that empty the participants without end, showing them evernew resources for development?
Change and Conflict Resolution
CPE is committed to awaken and nurture a passion and commitment in students to serve people who represent a wide variety of age groups, religions,
spiritual beliefs, ethnic and racial backgrounds, and gender and sexual identities. Differences are seen as a resource for students’ learning and development. Using a Christian metaphor for CPE, a diverse group of disciples is
invited to reach out and “fish” for people. Students, with their supervisor,
leave behind the safety of what seems certain in their individual stories and
identities. Participants are called to become like a church for others8 and
“fish” for a wide variety of human beings. This requires that students move
away from self-centeredness—that they engage in the discipline of connecting to similarities within what is apparently different. This discipline runs
counter to the natural human tendency to come together around similarities
and separate on differences.9
The most important contribution of systems-centered theory is the
use of functional sub-grouping as a catalyst for change and conflict-resolution.10 Students are asked to build on each others’ contributions and to
check whether the group is ready to explore the other side of an issue before
they bring in a difference. Differences are contained in separate functional
sub-groups until the difference, or conflict, can be identified and integrated in the group-as-a-whole.11 In functional sub-grouping, members of one
sub-group are asked to stay in eye-contact, drawing on functional dependency to explore both sides of an issue or an experience. Eventually, the
group-as-a-whole will integrate increasing complexity. Subsequently, students are able to increasingly encounter and be comfortable with diversity
in their pastoral care, while also developing a more solid sense of themselves in their pastoral role. The use of functional sub-grouping is possible
when meeting in-person and or on the phone; however, use of sub-grouping
using email may be unproductive. In email, the subtleties of voice tone and
body language information are lost and reading or writing about emotional
processes can be cumbersome, with ample opportunity for misunderstandings or projections.
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Additionally, the contributions of slower or non-responding members
of the sub-group may get lost. Feedback provided via email needs to be
given thoughtfully—misunderstandings created in email may arouse emotions that are important resources for development and will, therefore, need
to be addressed personally through the educational process. Also, in an
email, there is the possibility that differences may not be acknowledged or
explored as deeply as they might have been in face-to-face CPE groups. In
sum, email communication does may not provide a good-enough container
to serve either the educational process or the task.
Phases of Group Development
Professional education for ministry seeks to help students to integrate cognitive theological concepts and experienced faith, head and heart, past and
present, intimacy and otherness, and task and process. In this integrative
process, students are asked to notice what happens for them in relationship
to the realities of the human suffering and the pain that they encounter. They
are also encouraged to deepen their awareness and learn from their experiences in relationship to self and others.
Using systems-oriented theory in the process of exploration, the supervisor works with the group-as-a-whole to help all members move through a
predictable sequence of stages of development. The goal is to enhance students’ ability to relate wholeheartedly, while being able to functionally take
up their role in their ministry and connect with peer-learners, patients, and
patient’s families in increasingly more effective ways. In systems-oriented
work, the barriers to these goals are systematically weakened to allow the
natural forces of development and transformation to move the group—and
the individual—forward.12
In the first phase of group development13 within the CPE group, students learn to explore, rather than explain, their experiences. The impulse to
flee the actual experience by diverting attention from reality, by creating an
identified patient in the group, or by constricting emotions in tension can be
strong. The facilitators of human relationships, and particularly educational
relationships in CPE, need to be aware of the pitfalls of the “as if,” inauthentic quality of relating during the “flight” phase of any educational group or
pastoral relationship. Vagueness, speculations, and projections are all behaviors that reveal the underlying avoidant or ambivalent dynamics within
the group. Observing and learning more about the dynamics of emotional
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avoidance is useful and moving beyond it leads to increased effectiveness of
students’ work with patients and their families.
In a second phase of group development,14 CPE student groups explore
the impulse to persecute or target others for their differences. Sub-groups explore the pull to act-out in hostility or depression. Eventually groups move
to exploring one-up/one-down role relationships, such as identified patient
and care-taker, scapegoat and blamer, or the dynamics within a defiant versus compliant sub-group.15 After these relationships are verbally identified,
contained, explored, and processed—rather than being acted out—groups
then move on to targeting the leader of the group, often blaming the supervisor for whatever feels wrong or uncomfortable. Usually the projections
onto the leader metaphorically communicate each group member’s experiences within their own primary relationships.16 The work with dynamics of authority in the CPE group is essential to students’ development of
their own pastoral authority. Through insights gained from the group experiences, they are increasingly able to be truly present with those who seek
their care. Also, this developmental and integrative work opens the door to
a deepened use of their strengths and the confidence with their respective
religious and spiritual traditions within pastoral care encounters.
It is questionable whether distance-supervision will prove itself capable of revealing and unraveling the persistent manifestations of emotional avoidance dynamics within the CPE group. Technology may be useful
in bridging distances and offering innovative learning tools that otherwise
might not be possible. However, distance-supervision may make it easier for
some students to avoid authentic connections that are vitally necessary to
interpersonal and group-as-a-whole learning. The following questions still
need to be answered:
• What mode of distance-supervision technology and what frequency of its
use is needed to successfully engage group-dynamics around authority?
• Are distance-supervision groups more prone to flee into premature intimacy,
or exercise other avoidance reactions, as ways of avoiding the challenging
explorations during the “flight” phase?
• How likely is it that group members will stay in modes of “as if” relating?
Lastly, it is often the most difficult and most rewarding part of systemsoriented group work in CPE for students to be able to see and sense the dynamics of the group-as-a-whole. Answers to these specific questions about
group dynamics in distance-learning would be helpful:
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• Would viewing the group on several screens at once make it more difficult for
individual students to observe group-as-a-whole dynamics?
• Is it possible to observe with sufficient acuity and give feedback to individual
students based on behaviors observed in the group that would be impactful
for the students’ ministry?
Clearly, more detailed inquiry needs to be done regarding the use of
distance-technologies in traditional CPE, asking specific questions about
what digital tools are best-suited to CPE, what other kinds of data will be
needed to assure quality supervision, and how that data will be gathered.
Theory Two: Evolution Theology for Intimate, Communal Care
An evolutionary theology relevant for supervision begins with recognizing
that the Earth has developed from a barren rock into a planet populated by
a united global human community of loving people. Communal unity may
not be the end of the evolution of the universe, but it is the most visible
next step. Humans may not be the apex of evolutionary energy, but in our
experience we are the most developed. Against enormous odds, inherent
evils, and at a glacial pace, we are getting smarter, more physically attractive, and increasingly sensitive to one another’s delight and pain century
by century.
Thus far, the process of evolution on this mini-speck in the universe has
taken about 4.5 billion years. The movement from no life to life happened
about 3.8 billion years ago, from life to human thought a mere 2.5 million
years ago, and since then we’ve moved from human thought to love. The
point at which Adam and Eve became capable of making free choices accelerated this human unfolding, so that now some of us actively participate in
the process of evolution—are actually shaping its future. As intelligence increased, groups of our ancestors created over 7,000 different languages that
are still being spoken. The thousands of ethnic cultures who spoke those
languages developed separately over centuries. The languages and cultures
formed gradually by encounters with the natural world, through growing
awareness of the mysteries of their bodies and inner lives, and through communication between each other. At first, these very distinct cultures began
to slowly connect.
For a few thousand years now, Earth’s ethnic cultures have been increasingly engaging one another spurred by technological advancement.
Through animal domestication, ship-building, the invention of airplanes
and electronics, a gradual mixing process has been bringing cultures face-
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to-face with each other’s very different ways of surviving and thriving. The
best of human decisions have been moving human collaboration forward,
from hunting in packs to intimate healing and loving communities. The
current frontier of the evolutionary process seems to be in-depth communication within small groups of care and learning conducted for the betterment of humanity.
Four particular features of world cultures have spurred their development and lend themselves to evaluating the use of new technologies: (1)
interpersonal care—the growing care and love in relationships between individuals; (2) communal healing—collaborative relationships in communities
of others; (3) relationships with obvious transcendence; and, (4) an evolving
capacity for individual self-explorative reflection. Using their newfound freedom, humans have increasingly reflected on themselves, their relationships
with one another, their gatherings and belonging, and their purpose relative to what is beyond. Following is an exploration of what each of these
features reveal about the adaptation of electronic transmission for clinical
education.
Interpersonal Care
A central aspect of all great religions, as they continue to develop, is empathy and concern for the difficulties pertinent to evolving humans—the pain
and struggles of one another—variously called agape love, charity, or ministry in Christian terms. The teachings of Jesus on the essential goodness of
all humans, the idea of Transcendent Power as benignly parental, and the
value of caring for one another still stand as the most influential examples
of interpersonal care in the western world.
Clinical pastoral education, a Christian breakthrough of the twentieth
century, has featured growing excellence in ministry care through small
group dynamics, close examination of actual efforts at pastoral care, faceto-face encounters, and the facilitation of self-exploration in contexts of authenticity among peer learners. The success of these methods raises questions about the new technology’s role:
• Can active care and prescriptive confrontation through electronic media be
felt emotionally on a sufficiently palpable level to supply interpersonal experiences that are transformational?
• It is possible that such experiences between supervisors and group members,
as well as among students, could facilitate radical change in perspectives,
identities, and professional functioning.
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• Will the intensity of interpersonal challenge be accomplished regularly
enough to sustain the essential value of the encounter to educational change
that has characterized group peer supervision in its first 80 years?
Communal Healing
The compilation of written wisdom gathered and taught by Hebrew spiritual leaders—the Old Testament—stands as an example of humanity’s
growing awareness that gatherings of people enhance human living. Mobs,
gangs, and armies have demonstrated the opposite, as well, showing a potential for evil that continues to grow; although it is intertwined with the
evolution of love. The Ten Commandments has become a model of the early
efforts of wise thinkers to curtail evil and promote love.
Hebrew thinkers could see that honoring the truth and personal property spawned trust (7, 8 &10); practicing mercy rather than violence contributed to peace (5); reverence for romantic love and family relationships as sacred reduced chaos (3, 4, 6 & 9); and communally acknowledging a positive
single “Greatest Power” injected hope into the “chosen people’s” everyday
lives (1 & 2).
Christianity followed with the teaching that all people are chosen and
are seen by the Deity with delight and that gathering together to express that
conviction further opens everyone to inspiration. As history has shown, in a
few hundred years the enthusiasm for communal life spread to encompass
nearly all of humanity.
By the twentieth century in the western world, however, the practical use of the spiritual power of communal care had become eroded. This
caused several men and women who were struggling with alcoholism in the
1930s to decide to re-fashion Christian-principled group healing, apart from
church culture, and find a way to live in sobriety. This marvelous community called itself Alcoholics Anonymous and once again the beauty of what
gut-level communal care can offer for growth and healing was re-born.
A decade earlier, clinical pastoral educators had done the same thing,
but quietly and within theological and health care circles, employing group
dynamics to enhance human development, increase caring skills, and heal
dysfunctional communication patterns—in the process, increasing competency in ministry and pastoral care.
Obvious Transcendence
Virtually all cultures have named, personified, imagined, or conceptualized
the Transcendent power that brings the unstoppable rain and eventually
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takes all living things away. Over the centuries, wise spiritual geniuses—
such as shamans and prophets—created and compiled practices, rituals, stories, and beliefs that have guided billions of lives in meeting the challenges
and disasters that comprise our fragile existence—all five great religions
provide examples.
Transcendence is, perhaps, most obvious in the natural world and in
corporal intimacy between two lovers. When compared with the idea of
“distance loving,” the limitations of “distance-learning” become clear—
rich expressions of affection, interpersonal engagement, and bodily expression are not possible. The simplicity of children making sense of the Beyond through experiencing thunderstorms or the death of a loved one; or
the way that adolescents grow intellectually, in spite of the fire of youthful
sexuality, can become examples for adults seeking to care for other people’s
souls.
Dedication to the core beliefs and practices that shape any person’s life
path runs deep and operates with incredible influence and resilience. Religious and spiritual convictions ground lives and direct them. Wars continue
to be fought because of the differences in how we see the Divine. Now humanity has evolved to a place where efforts to change one another’s core
commitments need to give way to mutual exploration, understanding, empathy, and collaboration towards humanity’s broader goals.
The group aspect of clinical supervision arguably remains the most
successful and profoundly appreciated ecumenical movement now in use
among practitioners of differing spiritual systems. Peer supervision thrives
on focusing first on personal needs of people and only secondarily on ministers’ sharing fundamental religious or spiritual beliefs. Group interactions regarding religious/spiritual convictions relative to patient care can
be some of the most intimate, perilous, and life re-shaping interactions that
takes place in peer supervision.
Before we alter the successful system already in place, we need to resolve the following questions:
• Can a new technology contribute to this unique arena for promoting interreligious collaboration?
• Does the use of this technology keep discussion of core beliefs and practices
cognitive, defensive, and shallow?
• Will students’ working to shape deep presentations of their spiritual beliefs
for electronic transmission truncate soul-level processing and re-consider-
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ation of theological stances, assumptions, doubts, and ideological incongruence that ground a person’s care of others?
Academia’s evaluations of distance-learning include recognition that
persons become objectified to a certain degree when relating through material media.17 Careful observation and evaluation of distance-supervision experiments will be vital in charting the future of the use of electronic media
for some educational functions, including the processing of theological and
spiritual core values relative to pastoral care work.
Self-explorative Reflection
The nineteenth-century breakthrough discovery of the unconscious self—
revealing that much of what makes up human personality is beyond our
awareness—brought a new depth to human evolution. The concept of the
unconscious moved human self-understanding beyond virtue and morality. It made possible the ability to pay attention to subtleties of interpersonal
communication as clues to deeper understandings of our own motivation,
human development, and whatever impedes the intimacy we all crave.
This discovery of the human unconscious, and subsequent refinements, increased interpersonal and group self-understanding and grounded the creation of clinical supervision. Ingenious individuals, intent on
improving care, devised simple, solid structures and processes for taking
student caregivers through their own unconscious depths. This personal
exploration prepares students to compassionately enter other people’s lives
to ease their suffering by improving their self-understanding, self-compassion, and ability to relate to others.
Uses of technological developments that enhance the process of selfreflection can become an addition to the established methods that have
made clinical supervision the best educational process for promoting personal and professional integration yet devised. At the same time, flashy
uses of technology that focus a learner’s attention on creating a positive appearance need to be limited. A learner may be distracted from intentional
focus on subtle clues about their own, or others, inner processes or interpersonal feedback that might increase the student’s self-awareness could
be weakened.
One questions to ask is: Can group learning and healing be as rich
when the relationships are conducted only through electronic methods? In
the recovering alcoholic community a phone call may at times help a struggling person refrain from relapse temporarily, but the need to “go to a meet-
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ing,” to actually be in the same room as one’s communal Higher Power will
surely follow soon. Perhaps actual personal presence is equally indispensable in peer supervision.
Group peer supervision can be augmented by electronic transmission
of images, but will not be supplanted by it. The use of parallel processes has
pervaded excellent supervision. How group processes tend to mirror patient-care efforts in a peer group presentation provides some of the best data
in integrative clinical learning. In distance-supervision, even if all students
and the supervisor can view one another on screens, the need for simultaneously observing those images while looking within oneself for salient inner
processes—memories, emotions, attitudes, and assumptions—enormously
complicates the process of learning in a group context. Group relating in a
shared, physical space may be required—and electronic transmissions can
provide augmentation.
The Place of Distance-education in Clinical Supervision
At this point in the evolution of clinical supervision, some limitations can
be suggested as experimentation takes place. Supervisors responsible for
distance clinical pastoral education will need to ground the educational rationale of programs in theoretical concepts that sufficiently relate supervisory
practice to current CPE standards. Accrediting agencies could make provisions to approve experimental programs using distance-educational methods temporarily for the purpose of expanding the reach of pastoral supervision.
CPE programs that experiment with distance-education will need to evaluate these educational methods, particularly those involving clinical and process group sessions. If a CPE program experiments with distance-education
methods, program evaluations will need to include a section eliciting student and supervisor appraisal of those methods. This practice will contribute to the development and amendment of CPE standards.
Clinical and interpersonal group sessions, as well as individual supervisory sessions, will need to allow for two-way interactions and only be used
to augment the supervisory relationship established previously through
face-to-face interaction. Clear guidelines and standards will be needed to
identify percentages of clinical and interpersonal group sessions and individual supervisory sessions that need to be conducted in person. Also, accrediting agencies who authorize programs conducted outside of the Unit-
106
ed States will need to develop guidelines for the use of distance-education
methods to maintain the quality of pastoral supervision.
NOTES
1.
Susan P. Gantt and Yvonne M. Agazarian, eds., SCT in Clinical Practice: Applying the
Systems-Centered Approach (Livermore, CA: WingSpan Press, 2006), 91.
2.
Ibid., 86.
3.
Ibid., 16–17.
4.
Ibid., 92.
5.
Adriaan T. Peperzak, Simon Critchley, and Robert Bernasconi, eds, Emmanuel Levinas: Basic Philosophical Writings (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1996), 29.
6.
Ibid., 106.
7.
Ibid., 52.
8.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship (New York: Touchstone Rockefeller Center, 1995).
9.
Gantt and Agazarian, eds., SCT in Clinical Practice, 93–95.
10. Ibid., 92.
11. Susan P. Gantt and Earl Hopper, “Two Perspectives on Trauma in a Training Group:
The Systems-Centered Approach and the Theory of Incohesion: Part I,” Group Analysis 41, no. 1 (2008): 101.
12. Gantt and Agazarian, eds., SCT in Clinical Practice, 63.
13. Ibid.
14. Ibid., 9–23.
15. Ibid., 94.
16. Ibid., 22–25.
17. Lee Ayers Schlosser and Michael Simonson, Distance-Education. Definition and Glossary
of Terms, 3rd ed., (Charlotte, NC: Information Age Publishing, 2009).
SeCTion 3
PRoblemATiC
With the following case, we continue the practice of including
one case study in each volume of Reflective Practice. This case is a
composite of several actual experiences. The names and genders
are altered so that any resemblance to actual situations is coincidental. Our
intent in using this case is to examine how the digital age presents new dilemmas for formation and supervision. We are grateful to the Connecticut
Conference of the United Church of Christ in the United States for allowing
us to print their “Internet Safety Guideline.” We present these guidelines
knowing that they will need to be adapted to local contexts and be modified frequently as new technologies introduce new digital possibilities for
communication in ministry. We invite readers of this journal to submit case
studies to the Editor around the theme of “Virtues in Formation and Supervision” that might be included in Volume 32.
Herbert Anderson
Editor
A Friendly Ark in the Digital Sea:
A Case Study
Keith Munson finished a unit of Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) the summer before he began his parish internship at First Church in September.
Keith is in his mid-40’s, married and without children of his own. His wife
has three children from a previous marriage—all of whom are either in college or live away from home. Keith is an engaging individual to whom people of all ages are attracted. He became increasingly aware of his impulse
to rescue others in need in CPE and entered into spiritual direction shortly
after beginning his internship to specifically address that issue. People who
are vulnerable and needing love seem to be drawn to Keith. He has a Facebook account under the name “ARK: Almost Rev Keith” and has invited
young people in the congregation to “friend” him on Facebook. Keith re-
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Section 3: problematic
ported to his spiritual director that a number of young people in the congregation had “friended” him and he was touched by the loneliness and the
need to be loved evidenced by so many of them.
Natalie is one of the people who friended Keith. She is a 15-year-old young
woman who was born in Korea and adopted by American parents when she
was 2 years old—she is their only child. Natalie is very bright and carries on
conversations with adults more easily than with her peers. Being the only Asian,
she felt very uncomfortable in the church youth group—until Keith arrived.
He seemed interested in her ideas and, much to Natalie’s surprise and delight,
responded with kindness and understanding when she friended him on Facebook. She found it easy to share her emotions with him. As time went on, Natalie wrote to Keith frequently and increasingly expressed her vulnerably to him.
Natalie’s parents have a policy of periodically checking her Facebook page.
The frequency of the exchanges between Natalie and Keith, whom they knew as
the Intern at First Church, prompted them to read some of her emails. They were
troubled by the revelations from his past that Keith shared with their daughter. Natalie’s mother sent another youth group mother an email in which Keith
shared some of his own struggles in high school with isolation and depression.
When her parents confronted her about the exchanges with Keith, Natalie defended him and told her parents that Keith understood her better
than anyone else. They were alarmed by Natalie’s anger at them and the
support she had been receiving from Keith Munson.
By the time Natalie’s parents reported their concern to Sylvia Smith,
the pastor of First Church and Keith’s pastoral supervisor, all the youth
group parents knew about the exchanges between Keith and Natalie. Sylvia knew of Keith’s desire to develop a social network with the youth on
Facebook, but she was not aware of the level of intimacy of those Facebook
friendships and email conversations. Natalie’s parents insist that Keith must
be removed from the staff of the congregation because he can no longer be
trusted.
Pastor Smith assured Natalie’s parents she would immediately address
the matter with Keith to insure the ongoing integrity of the congregation’s pastoral staff. Despite his insistence that there was nothing inappropriate about
his exchanges with the young people in general, or Natalie in particular, Pastor Smith asked him to suspend digital communication with the youth until
it could be determined whether Keith, because of his impulse to rescue, had
violated pastoral boundaries. Following the brief meeting with his pastoral supervisor, Keith made an appointment to see his spiritual director the next day.
Making Time to Reflect
in Order to Learn
Eva Marie Lumas
Pastoral supervision of a ministry student comes with a dense admixture of
responsibilities made all the more complex by social networking. Recognizing the inherent potential for both good and harm posed by this technology,
the Roman Catholic Church and other denominations have developed parish policies to create a safe environment that protects minors from sexual
and financial exploitation in the virtual world and other pastoral settings.
However, these Internet policies do not routinely address how to safeguard
children and youth from other unhealthy relationships.
In this case, the result of not having comprehensive policies to govern
the use of social communication in ministry has led to a series of pastoral
problems that could have been avoided: The relationship between Natalie
and her adoptive parents may be unduly strained. Natalie’s peer relationships may be further eroded if her peers hold her responsible for losing the
online ministry or for Keith’s dismissal from the pastoral staff. The ministerial integrity of the whole pastoral team could be challenged by what Natalie’s parents perceive as a breach of trust, especially if Keith is not dismissed
from the pastoral team. Keith may have backed himself into a corner, caus-
Eva Marie Lumas, DMin, ThM, Director of Field Education and Assistant Professor of Religious Education and Culture, Franciscan School of Theology, 1712 Euclid Ave., Berkeley,
CA 94709 (Email: elumas@att.net).
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Making time to reflect in order to learn
ing his seminary to seriously question his suitability for ministry—and Pastor Smith needs to initiate the development of comprehensive guidelines
and polices for online ministries before this venue can be reinstated.
It was prudent of the supervising minister to ask Keith to immediately
suspend his online communication with the youth. Still, there are a significant number of unknown facts for which she needs qualitative information.
Her first concern should be an assessment of Keith’s online correspondence
with all parish youth. Her review of the data may reveal exchanges that
other parents might object to as well. On the other hand, she may find that
Keith’s communications with the youth are within acceptable boundaries—
perhaps the fruit of his work with a spiritual director. Either way, Pastor
Smith is forced to walk a tightrope when deciding how to address her findings with Keith, Natalie and her parents, the youth group, and the larger
parish community regarding the use of online technology.
If there is either explicit or implicit evidence that Keith’s self-disclosures to Natalie or his remarks to other youth are inappropriate, Pastor Smith
must contact the director of Field Education at his seminary to report the situation. That conversation could assist Pastor Smith and the seminary to determine if the manner and magnitude of Keith’s impulse to rescue is cause to
terminate his current internship and whether it poses a serious liability for
other ministerial settings. Natalie and her parents and the youth group and
their parents should be informed of her actions in a timely manner.
However, as this case study is presented, Pastor Smith’s next course of
action may not be so clearly defined. She seems to be confronted with a situation for which she has no previous experience. There is no indication that
she instructed Keith on the use of social networking within the parish setting. There is nothing to suggest that she or another parish pastoral minister
either monitored or had access to Keith’s Facebook account. The issue here
is not that Pastor Smith was negligent of supervisory responsibilities, but it
is much more likely that this situation presented a pastoral challenge that
she had not anticipated.
Her next steps would benefit from Joseph Levine’s view of overcoming mishaps within the process of teaching and learning: “…to really learn
from a mistake takes not only time to reflect (on what happened) but also
the opportunity to try out the results of our reflection.” Apropos to this, Pastor Smith might affirm Keith’s desire to be a supportive presence for Natalie, and other parish youth, while explaining that what these young people
most need from him is to be a faithful companion, coach, and cheerleader.
Lumas
111
This would enable him to assist the youth to develop the self-awareness and
interpersonal skills that could help them engage and negotiate with their
parents, and others, in ways that are more mutually effective. She might also
provide Keith with a copy of the social networking guidelines developed by
the Connecticut Conference of the United Church of Christ entitled “Internet Safety Guidelines” (see page 61) and ask him to identify the structural
safeguards he would incorporate into his online ministry to make it more
pastorally astute and transparent.
In order to help Natalie and her parents reconcile their relationship,
Pastor Smith needs to be mindful that simply dismissing Keith or ending
parish online ministries will not prevent a similar situation from occurring
in the future. While assuring them of the parish’s pastoral support for the
well-being of their family and apprising them of how she is addressing their
concern, she must discern the real issues that underlie their current conflict.
Pastor Smith might also need to help them work through the intergenerational strife common to adolescent-parent relationships and/or triangulated
relationships that frequently beset blended or multicultural families. It must
be clear that she is not trying to defend Keith, but to help the three of them
become even more attentive to the particular interpersonal promise and perils of their family.
Finally, as this case is presented, it is clear that the parish did not have
well-formulated policies regarding the ministerial use of social networking. In the interest of enhancing the parish’s pastoral services, Pastor Smith
should not reject the future use of social networking or other forms of digital
communication. At the same time, she has to reintroduce this pastoral venue in ways that reassure her parishioners that healthy boundaries and safe
church practices are built into the social network design.
Internet Safety
Guidelines
Eric S. Anderson
Kim Hoare Marji Hughes
DaVita D. McCallister
Introduction
The emerging “digital age” has presented the Church with a new and evolving set of communication tools which offer great promise for developing
and deepening ministries of relationship. Social networking sites, on-thespot communication devices, and “old-fashioned” email can facilitate faith
sharing and inquiry, organization for mission, and pastoral care. Their rapid
manifestation raises anxieties as well. People legitimately feel discomfort
with the unfamiliar. They certainly experience confusion when confronted
with new tools to accomplish customary tasks. And they feel out of place
in new communities that emerge around new communication technologies.
We offer this document as a guidepost to emerging technologies, and
hope that it provides an opportunity for local church leaders to engage
in conversation. The Church of Jesus Christ and the tradition of the United Church of Christ use the practice of covenanting to found and bound
healthy, faithful communities. We hope this document will aid local church
leaders to give expression to their own groups’ covenants, Safe Church policies, and ministry practices in the new world of electronic communication.
Where we offer advice about specific practices, we make it from a
hope that these practices are more likely to produce strong, healthy relationships in the Body of Christ, and not from a legislative impulse or an attempt
to proffer legal advice. That which builds relationship is a more exacting
standard than public statutes. The whole United States Code may not be
summed up in the commandment “You shall love your neighbor as yourself,” yet it still serves as a sound guide for Christian praxis.
Reprinted with permission of the
Connecticut Conference of the United Church of Christ
ANDERSON, HUGHES, AND MC CALLISTER
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Recommendations—Safe Church
(Minor-to-Adult Relationships)
Social Networking Sites—
Relationship and Group Status
1. Adults should not submit “friend” requests to minors or youth. Youth may
request friendships with adults, and adults should discern the level of contact they want to maintain with youth prior to responding to these requests.
2. When and where available, authorized youth workers may choose to create
separate private and professional profiles on networking sites to create a line
of privacy.
3. If an authorized youth worker chooses to accept friend requests from minors
or youth that are associated with their community of faith, we recommend
that other youth workers (within the same community of faith) have full access to the professional youth worker’s profile and correspondence.
4. Authorized youth workers who choose to accept friend requests from minors or
youth should use all privacy settings applicable to shield youth from any inappropriate content that may exist within the authorized youth worker’s profile.
5. All youth and adults should be informed that any communication that is
sent via digital means (email, social networking site notes or posts, etc.) is
not confidential and may be reported or shared with others.
6. We strongly recommend “closed” groups, but not “hidden” groups be
used for youth groups. These groups should have both youth and adult
administrators.
7. Youth groups should decide within their covenant whether or not their social networking site groups are open to parents of current members.
8. Covenants should be created to govern what is appropriate and inappropriate content to be placed and displayed in the online group for a youth group.
9. Any inappropriate material that is not covered by “Mandatory Reporting” laws
should be deleted from the site. Any material that is covered by “Mandatory
Reporting” laws should be reported to the clergy (within your community of
faith), documented for church records, and then deleted from the site.
10.Any content that details inappropriate behavior (outside of the bounds of the
established covenant) during a church-sponsored event or activity should be
addressed by authorized youth workers and parents.
11.Parents should be informed that content that appears on youth pages or
groups that are not sponsored by the church are NOT within the purview of
authorized youth workers.
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INTERNET SAFETY GUIDELINES
Recommendations—Boundaries
(Adult-to-Adult Relationships)
Social Networking Sites—
Relationship and Group Status
1. Adult members of congregations or communities of faith who seek religious
or spiritual advice from clergy via digital means (email, social networking
site posts, etc.) should be informed that their communication is NOT confidential. Use of digital means to communicate nullifies confidentiality.
2. When and where available, clergy are encouraged to consider creating a personal and a professional account to maintain appropriate boundaries with
members of their congregations or other members of communities of faith.
3. Clergy should consider the impact of declining a “friend” request from
their church members. These encounters may create tension in “real world”
relationships.
4. Clergy who work directly with youth are encouraged to establish churchsponsored digital communications groups to maintain contact with youth
members.
5. Clergy are encouraged to use privacy settings to shield both adult and youth
members from viewing content that may be inappropriate.
General Recommendations for
Communication and Contact
Recommendations for Transitions
1. Clergy who are leaving a specific ministry setting (congregation, cluster
youth ministry, association, conference) should refrain from offering pastoral care through digital communication after the END date of their contract/
call/covenant with their community of faith.
2. Former youth members and adult leaders of youth groups, due to departure,
removal or loss of eligibility (aged out of a program) should be removed
from digital communication youth groups (Facebook groups, list serves, etc.)
(See Covenant recommendations for additional information).
Recommendations for Digital Covenants
1. Digital Covenants should acknowledge that materials posted on Church
Sponsored sites (and or group pages) are not CONFIDENTIAL.
2. Digital Covenants should acknowledge that content deemed inappropriate
will be removed from the site or group.
ANDERSON, HUGHES, AND MC CALLISTER
115
Recommendations for Digital Covenants (Continued)
3. Digital Covenants for communities of faith should address the following issues:
• appropriate language,
• eligibility of membership (do you have to be a member of a local congregation or youth group, are parents of current members eligible, are their age
requirements/ restrictions for participation, etc.),
• content that can be posted/published on the site or page (Rule of thumb: post
your information and not others’),
• who, how and when may photos be tagged (members identified by name; for
example, individuals may tag themselves in photos but should not tag others),
• stipulate appropriate and inappropriate (bullying, pictures that depict abuse,
violence, sexual acts, etc.) behavior of members and the consequence for inappropriate behavior,
• transitions, due to departure, loss of eligibility or removal of youth members
and/ or adult leaders, and
• mandatory reporting laws will be followed (See glossary of terms for additional information on mandatory reporting laws).
Recommendations for Video Chats,
Blogs, or Video Blogs
1. Adults should refrain from initiating video chats with youth.
2. Participants in a video chat or blog should consider what will be shown in
the video such as their surroundings, their clothing/state of dress, etc.
3. All transcripts of online text chats, video chats, blogs, or video blogs should
be saved when possible.
4. All clergy and authorized youth workers should consider the content and nature
of any post that will be read by or visible to youth. Your voice is often considered
the voice of the church, and your content may be viewed as church policy.
Recommendations for Publishing/Posting
Content Online
1. All Communities of faith should take care to secure signed Media Release
forms from adults and guardians of minor children who will or may participate in activities that may be photographed or videotaped for distribution.
2. Any congregation that distributes video of its congregational services or activities on the web or via other broadcast media MUST post signs that indicate the service will be broadcast.
3. Congregations are NOT considered PUBLIC space and therefore must inform participants when they are being videotaped.
4. Photos that are published on church-sponsored sites should not include name or
contact information for minor children or youth.
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INTERNET SAFETY GUIDELINES
Glossary of Terms
Authorized Youth Worker—any adult individual who is designated by a
community of faith to work with minor children: This includes chaperones,
employees and volunteers.
Community of Faith—a congregation, cluster of churches, association or
conference that engages in ministry together.
Cluster Churches/Youth Ministries—two or more congregations that
work together to form, support or maintain ministries to and with youth.
Church-Sponsored Sites—any group, page or list serve that is created by a
designated member of a community of faith for the purpose of establishing,
maintaining or growing ministries to and with youth and/or adults.
Mandatory Reporting—individuals who work with youth are responsible
to report to clergy any activity or language which indicates that a minor
is being severely harmed (sexual assault, physical abuse or emotional torment) by a youth or adult, considering doing severe harm to themselves
(thoughts or plans of suicide) or severely harming others (abuse, homicide
or rape). Any information that is posted on a church-sponsored site that includes this type of information should be reported to clergy, documented in
church records and deleted from the site.
Inappropriate Content—refers both to content that is improper or offensive, but also content that might be suited to the medium but not to the
relationship.
“Internet Safety Guidelines” copyright© 2009
The Missionary Society of Connecticut
Reproduced with minor deletions and modifications, Reflective Practice, 2011
SeCTion 4
PoSSibiliTieS:
A SYmPoSiUm
This collection of supervisory practices using digital technology
provides an opportunity to examine the use, or intended use, of
digital technology in formation and supervision. The emergence
of digital technology has, indeed, increased a wide-range of possibilities
for formation and supervision heretofore unimaginable. Some of the readers may be in contexts in which the digital possibilities described seem
like a distant dream. Others of you may already have surpassed even the
most creative contribution in this section. It has been our editorial intent to
establish a regular pattern of including articles about best practices in the
journal. We welcome accounts of your practice, or your response to these
articles, on our website at www.reflective-practice.org.
The work of formation and supervision in a digital age will be forged
between the bold exploration of the possibilities that technology invites and
the limits imposed by human physicality and particularity. Søren Kierkegaard once observed that too much possibility is one of the great dangers of
life. Imagining that possibilities are infinite ignores human limits. Yet the
capacity to imagine new possibilities signifies human freedom in a way that
can provoke anxiety. Too much possibility overvalues the symbolic self that
is forged between possibility and finitude. Technology rush risks overlooking dimensions of the human that are inescapably embodied. On the other
hand, the anxiety that new possibilities evoke needs to be embraced with
courage, lest we overlook the new freedom that digital technology brings.
Since this Journal is now available around the globe, it is important to acknowledge that digital technology creates barriers as it bridges distances.
Social networking connects people who can afford it and separates those
who cannot.
The possibility of overcoming distance with technology is perhaps the
greatest benefit of the new technology for theological education and preparing future religious leaders. Although distance learning has been common in secular education for some time, it is now both regular and necessary. In 1999, the Association of Theological Schools (ATS) devoted an issue
of Theological Education to the topic of educational technology and distance
education. In that publication, distance education was defined as the “learning experience for students who are geographically separated from faculty
Section 4: Possibilities
118
and other students.”1 Digital technology has not only expanded the accessibility to resources and spawned new learning communities for residential
students; it has multiplied the number of individuals who might consider
ministry or simply study theology through distance learning.
The following articles about new practices of supervision also testify to
the creativity and the courage needed to explore new possibilities without
overlooking the human dimension. The contexts and the supervisory agenda vary but there are common issues about the use of digital technology to
expand the possibilities for supervision and peer-consultation. The hope is
that you might discover new possibilities and limits for the use of digital
technology in your own context. The reflections by four ACPE supervisors
in training introduce a dimension of concreteness to this section. Their observations add another layer to reflective practice in action.
Herbert Anderson
Editor
NOTE
1.
Daniel O. Aleshire and Katherine E. Amos, “Theme Introduction: Distance Education
and the Association of Theological Schools,” Theological Education 36, no. 1 (Autumn
1999): ix.
Symposium
When Clinical Practice is Digital:
Reflections on Supervision at
VITAS Innovative Hospice Care
Martha Rutland
I completed a 9-month program of Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE),
through VITAS Hospice, with Supervisor Rev. Martha Rutland, in 2006.
Our group was diverse in terms of gender, ethnicity, age and religious
background. We met personally once a month for an extended class and
discussion, and met weekly on telephone conference calls. We also communicated by email and by other phone calls, as needed. This combination yielded close and mutually honest relationships between group
members and our supervisor. Perhaps especially because we did meet
personally on a regular basis, the teleconferences continued the intimacy
and vulnerability typical of a good CPE experience. I can honestly report
that the transformation I experienced as part of the CPE process has been
a highlight of my pastoral education.
—Clare Chance, a former ACPE intern when digital learning at VITAS
was just beginning and presently a United Methodist Church pastor
I am currently participating in a CPE group based out of the Orange
County program in Southern California. This is a hybrid program, with
the supervisor Linda Bos, two students on location in the Orange County
office, and me and another chaplain colleague together up here in the San
Francisco Bay Area program. We utilize MegaMeeting software and webcams to allow us all to see each other, and speakerphones to talk with each
other. Although I am not surprised that this plan is workable, I do find myself impressed by the level of intimacy that can be built with this format.
After the initial several weeks of getting used to the technology, and working out the kinks, I now find the technological aspects to be unobtrusive.
—Andrew Bear, VITAS Staff Chaplain and current CPE resident
VITAS Innovative Hospice Care is a model of distance accountability for clinical practice. Because all hospice staff in VITAS is supervised at a distance,
digital communication is an essential part of clinical practice. For chaplains,
the initial contact with a hospice patient and/or family is usually by phone.
Some CPE students have difficulty getting into the home because they are not
able to make enough emotional connection by phone to be allowed to visit.
Bereavement follow-up also begins with a phone call. Students must find a
way to empathically engage family members at a distance. A distance compoReflective Practice: Formation and Supervision in Ministry
120
When clinical practice is digital: a symposium
nent in CPE integrates this aspect of clinical practice with the learning experience in the VITAS Innovative Hospice Care Association for Clinical Pastoral
Education (ACPE) Program
While I have supervised ACPE programs in the hospice context since
1993, it was not until 2006 that I intentionally integrated any distance pieces
into my ACPE supervision. My first experience came out of an effort to respond to students in a rural setting without easy access to CPE. I was able
to create a unit in which once a month we met for a long retreat day, where
we had interpersonal group, verbatim presentations, and a didactic. In order to stay in touch with one another, we had a telephone conference in the
intervening weeks. Additionally, we would read an article or book and respond by email. Conversation focused upon how each one’s clinical work
interfaced with the theory.
Joyce Alexander was an introverted and quiet CPE student for whom
the phone calls were a challenge. The group was even more difficult for her.
She had been a nurse educator in her previous career and could teach specific material or convey information easily. Spontaneous conversation, however, was a challenge. Joyce felt too vulnerable when she was asked to reveal
anything about herself. At the beginning of each telephone call I would have
to ask, “Are you there?” Gradually, her peers began to ask, “Hey, what’s
happening?” Slowly Joyce learned that she had to initiate verbal contact
for anyone to know she was present; she had to give voice to her thoughts
and feelings. As she says, “I had to learn in CPE to re-draw the boundaries,
change the way I related to people from nurse to pastor.”
The phone calls may have colluded with her defenses or they may have
honored them. At any rate, the distance-learning model enabled Joyce to enter the group carefully and at her own pace in order to feel safe. Perhaps the
less intense interaction of our group telephone connections allowed her to
continue learning ministry at her own interpersonal pace.
Joyce was comfortable presenting complex theological interpretations of text. As she deepened her relationships with people and with herself, however, she learned to link her theology with her practice. Our email
CPE communication required this reflection on her work. Gradually, Joyce
brought her clinical work into her preaching. She would email various versions of her sermons until she was able to not only capture new understanding of the material, but also to tell the stories of her ministry in relation to
her preaching. I believe the distance components were a bridge that allowed
Joyce’s head and heart to speak with one voice.
Multiple perspectives
121
One verbatim Joyce presented focused on her ministry with an African
American patient. She was awed by his experiences. She went online and
found pictures of his high school, college, church, and home town. She made
him an illustrated book of the stories she heard from him. The group confronted Joyce with doing too much for him and not being present enough
with him. But when he died, Joyce was asked to participate in the funeral;
she was the only Anglo person present. He had shared the book she had created with everyone in his circle of care. Many people told the student chaplain how they had gotten to know him in a new way through her gift to him.
Joyce had used technology to gather pictures and information that enabled
this man to emerge fully spoken in word, deed, and picture. By listening to
his stories, she wrote for him the book he had always wanted to write.
As she learned to define herself, Joyce began to share with her adult
children on a new level. Just as she was learning to talk with her CPE peers,
she began to share more of herself in telephone conversations with her children. She found herself getting to know them “from the inside,” through her
willingness to be more present herself. At her CPE graduation, she shared
a poem she had written that demonstrated that the nuances of her growth
were real. I am convinced that the distance element, along with the digital communication components of the CPE experience, enhanced Joyce’s remarkable growth.
We are now experimenting with offering CPE to staff chaplains at a
distant site. Two VITAS staff chaplains participate in a weekly CPE group
by video conference. A VITAS ACPE supervisor has visited their program
in person, but their classroom experience is by video. This opportunity
grew out of a request by both the Association for Professional Chaplains
and ACPE to see if I could find a way to offer CPE to staff chaplains needing continuing education for certification. The site managers, students, and
CPE group have been surprised at how effective the learning has been as
Clare reported in the first vignette at the start of this essay. In addition, we
have included presentations by other supervisors with specializations such
as systems-centered theory and the chair of the United Methodist Board of
Ministry provided a didactic on small groups by MegaMeeting (www.megameeting.com). Also, all of our phone conferences are now available visually through MegaMeeting.
Distance-learning has its limitations, frustrations, and sometimes does
not work—but sometimes, by sheer grace and grit, learning happens. Students are “transformed,” as Clare says in the beginning of this piece and as
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WHEN CLINICAL PRACTICE IS DIGITAL: A SYMPOSIUM
Joyce demonstrated. I hope that in a parallel way, when digital tools are the
best way to reach people, chaplains will be able to use these forms of communication in their ministry.
Martha Rutland, DMin, BCC, ACPE, Director of Clinical Pastoral Education at VITAS Innovative Hospice Care, 100 S. Biscayne Blvd., Suite 1600, Miami, FL 33131 (Email: Martha.
Rutland@vitas.com).
my experience Supervising CPe Units and a
Candidate Supervisor via Video-Conferencing
Gary Sartain
In early October of 2009, I was approached by Ministry Health, a large Catholic hospital system centered in Northern Wisconsin, about the possibility of
starting a Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) program. I agreed to meet with
them in mid-October at their Marshfield, WI facility to do further exploration. In the interim, I was contacted by Diane Tugel, an Association for Clinical Pastoral Education (ACPE) Candidate Supervisor, who had just moved to
Green Bay, WI from Richmond, VA, and wanted to find a way to continue in
the process.
I invited Diane to send me her materials so I could get acquainted with
her on paper ahead of time and asked her to meet me in person in Marshfield
prior to my meeting with Ministry Health. Our brief time together that day
confirmed what I had felt from reading her material—that she was a person
we would definitely want to find a way to keep in the process, if we could. After a positive response from Ministry Health and after the willing agreement
by Lutheran Homes of Oshkosh, WI to take Diane as a Supervisory Education
student and allow Ministry Health to become a satellite of that Center, we were
ready to go. A contract was written and signed by all four parties involved; the
necessary work was done to gain satellite accreditation; six students were interviewed and selected; and the first unit was begun late in January, 2010.
Diane and I did much of the preliminary work together using Skype.
We were able to build a working relationship and work out the details of the
unit without the benefit of physical proximity, which I don’t believe could
have happened if we had been restricted to audio communication only. Student entrance interviews were conducted in person by Diane and the Minis-
123
try Health Director of Mission Services with me present via Skype. I found I
was able to participate fully and effectively in the interview process.
I was simultaneously researching various web-based video-conferencing options, particularly looking for a platform that would be more secure than Skype, as well as offer the option of having more than two video
feeds operational at one time. I was researching based both on some of the
needs we wanted to address as a Region (board & committee meetings; subregion continuing education; and supervisory education) and in terms of
what would work for Centers and Supervisors wanting to do individual
CPE units.
While there were a number of programs out there that would have
worked including WebEx, Adobe Connect, and Elluminate to name a few,
we settled on MegaMeeting (www.megameeting.com) because it allowed us
to break up the 25 seats we signed up for into any configuration we wanted,
allowing several meetings to go on simultaneously. We could, for example,
have a North Central Region Board meeting with 9 attendees at separate
sites while two Centers were doing CPE with six students, with each student
at a separate site. MegaMeeting gave us the option of naming any number
of people as hosts, which allowed them each to set up and run a meeting.
Diane and I have now supervised two units together and we are well
into a third. Each unit has had six students. While I was actively engaged
in the process as a co-supervisor at times in the first unit, I have been able
to step back to a very passive observer role for the latter two, as Diane’s
competence (and confidence) has increased. Even though my role is now
primarily to “supervise the supervisor,” I still log-on live for the duration
of her once-a-week group sessions, recording them and uploading them to
the “cloud”—into an online file folder to which she also has access—so that
both of us can view them and make notes, making it possible for me to bring
specific things to her attention when we do individual supervision.
Success All Around
Six students have successfully completed each unit, and several have been
employed by Ministry Health as Chaplains. Four of the six current students
were participants in our earlier groups who have chosen to continue their
CPE journey, while Diane has moved expediently forward in her own process. In addition to co-supervising or observing group activity, Diane and I
have had a very good experience using this technology for individual su-
124
pervision. Also, Diane has taken her equipment with her to monthly Supervisory Education Student (SES) gatherings in Oshkosh, Wisconsin and
Chicago and has set up in those venues so that I could attend virtually on
the occasions when I could not be physically present. If all goes as planned,
Diane will ultimately become an Associate Supervisor and Ministry Health
will move from satellite to ACPE-accredited Center status. Neither would
have been possible without the use of video-conferencing.
It is important to note that it has been far from a perfect experience.
The limitations have been our own learning curve with the technology and
the bandwidth available in northern Wisconsin, coupled with the port restrictions placed on us by Ministry Health’s Information Technology department. MegaMeeting prefers port 1932, but Ministry Health restricts us to
port 80, which slows the transmission. It is normally not noticeable, but during times of peak usage, we can sometimes experience a delay of several seconds. This is not an issue if one is simply observing, as I am now doing; but
when I was co-supervising the first unit, it was problematic—and, there are
rare times when the Internet service goes out completely.
To make web-based video-conferencing work optimally, you need a
fast Internet connection with good bandwidth; a computer with a duo-core
processor; a good webcam; and a good speakerphone. It took us a while to
settle on the right basic equipment. Our experiential learning in this regard
led us to the same conclusion that many of the web-based programs have
now come to—namely that the best equipment (as of the date of the writing
of this article) is as follows:
• The best webcam is a Microsoft Lifecam Studio because it can be mounted on
a tripod and has good optics.
• The best speakerphone is a Phoenix Duet Executive because it has excellent
echo-cancelling technology, picks up a complete CPE group clearly, and can
be ganged with other Duet Executives to provide coverage of a large room or
group.
Even with the proper equipment, we are still currently restricted in MegaMeeting to video screen resolutions of 320 X 240 pixels, which means the
picture is quite grainy if we blow it up to any size at all. Still, the recordings
we do of sessions compare quite favorably to what I have seen produced for
certification over the years—consistently better audio and almost as good,
if not as good, video. I did try another program, called Nefsis (www.nefsis.
com), which allowed us to make the video high-definition quality. However,
it is understandably more expensive. I do feel it’s user-friendly platform and
MULTIPLE PERSPECTIVES
125
flexibility with video quality make its extra cost worthwhile and we will
give it serious consideration when our current contract with MegaMeeting
expires in April of 2011. (What I mean by user-friendly platform is how it allows one to show the desktop or share an application, set the video cameras
of various attendees at different resolutions, record directly to your computer, and monitor bandwidth.)
Also, Skype has just recently added the option of multi-point videoconferencing at a very reasonable price, and there are several freeware addons for Skype that make it possible to record both video and audio, so that
is also worthy of experimentation. While Skype allows some sharing of a
desktop, it does not have the full capabilities that the MegaMeeting or Nefsis options provide, but it may be just fine for some applications.
It is important to note that our set-up has been primarily limited to
two-way. There are several places around the country that are about to attempt doing CPE with students each logging-on from separate sites—it will
be interesting to see how that works. MegaMeeting will allow up to 8 cameras to be open at a time, and the lower resolution video is fine for one person because each picture needs to be small to leave room for several others
on the screen, so the platform should be adequate. What will be vitally important is making sure that each person has the right equipment and knows
how to set it up and use it properly. If that isn’t done, there can be real issues
with echo, which can be very frustrating for our process which requires such
careful listening.
My experience with Diane and Ministry Health has confirmed my previous experience offering a unit via video-conferencing. It is indeed possible
to offer quality CPE education provided certain parameters are met. The primary common denominators in both successful experiences have been committed students who were highly self-motivated; careful attention to assure
the technology is used to its full potential; a willingness to maintain a sense
of humor; and the flexibility to deal with the frustration that the technology
can be counted on to introduce at regular intervals!
Gary Sartain, Regional Director, North Central Region, The Association for Clinical Pastoral Education, Inc., 2177 Youngman Ave., Suite 200, Saint Paul, MN 55116–3084 (Email:
ncracpe@ncracpe).
126
Distance Learning for Supervisory Education:
A Frustrating Experience
Jeffrey M. Silberman
In 2008, I applied for a grant from the Eastern Region of the Association
of Clinical Pastoral Education (ACPE) to explore and develop a model of
“Distance Learning for Supervisory Education.” The application was motivated by (1) the great need for preparing more ACPE supervisors and (2)
that smaller ACPE programs scattered around the geography of the Eastern
Region struggled to meet the requirement for a supervisory student peergroup. There were two priorities: first, we wanted to utilize more supervisors in Supervisory Education Student (SES) education by using distancelearning technology for the benefit of all interested programs in the region;
the second priority was to find a way to provide peer-group experiences via
distance-learning for centers in more isolated areas where one SES had no
real peer-group accessible.
Creating a virtual classroom for supervisory education seemed to be
a reasonable goal. A core of participating supervisory education programs
from the Eastern Region of ACPE were invited to participate. Some of these
programs were already cooperating with one another on supervisory education. While the goals were slightly different in each center, there was a consensus that all could benefit from using some model of distance-learning.
The virtual classroom model used in Veterans Administration (VA) hospitals was chosen for this project.
We began our efforts to test and implement an organized collaboration
by using the Internet to connect the already existing educational programs
more consistently. Initially, there were, however, a range of practical and
technical issues that needed to be addressed. The VA virtual-classroom experience utilized proprietary government hardware and software located in
each VA hospital. This system is maintained to provide secure communication among VA hospitals nationwide. Since our centers did not have compatible Internet-based systems, we were challenged to explore and identify
another model with which to operate.
The decision about software involved several key issues. We wanted
to have an ease of use, given that some centers and supervisors did not consider themselves expert with digital technology. The cost and confidentiality
of the package was another issue. We considered several free applications,
127
including iChat for the Mac and Skype, which works across operating system platforms. Free was definitely “good,” but privacy was not guaranteed
by these options. If student clinical material was presented, our communication needed to have restricted access in order to maintain confidentiality
consistent with ACPE and hospital policies. That decision moved us to consider proprietary software that would cost participants something. No one
objected, so that drove our next decision.
Selecting appropriate hardware was another dimension of our project.
Some hospital-based ACPE programs had dedicated information technology areas used for regular teleconferencing—others did not. One group, Supervisory Training Alliance of Connecticut and New York (STACNY), typically met in a private home outside of the hospital with only a personal
Internet connection available. Access to the necessary Internet equipment
differed significantly in each setting. Some relied on PCs and others preferred Apple Macs. Some computers we used had built-in cameras which
showed the person at the keyboard and other centers had external webcams
which could show the entire room. We struggled to collaborate because of
the varied range of equipment among the supervisory centers. Using different hardware caused an inconsistency of presentation and some confusion
in our trial runs.
In addition, there were issues with the video quality. In some of our
experimental presentations, there were video cameras with differing resolution. With the built-in webcams, we could clearly see the participants. With
other equipment, the pictures were of such poor quality it was impossible
to detect anything more than a general idea of people present. It was practically impossible to read non-verbal cues or to discern what other people
were feeling. Furthermore, placement of the cameras caused limitations as
to what was visible to other participants.
We had been told that the North Central Region of ACPE had experimented with one commercial application provider and purchased their Internet speaker-phone, which allowed participants to hear one another in
real time. Ultimately, this was the application and hardware package that
we adopted, but for some reason it did not work properly when we attempted to use it. We did eventually conduct one session which appeared to work
more broadly, but it was not without new difficulties. In STACNY, for instance, one of our supervisors presented a didactic in a room full of students
and other supervisors were trying to connect with separate computers to
128
take part in the discussion that accompanied the presentation. This proved
problematic with both the video and audio portions.
While not an overwhelming obstacle, the scheduling of the session was
another issue. Each of the participating supervisory education programs
met on different days and at different times. It became necessary for four
groups to change meeting dates to join with the two groups who met on
Fridays. Then, the daily program schedule needed to be adjusted. For example, in STACNY, the decision to run the Internet seminar in the afternoon
meant that we held our typical end-of-day Group-as-a-Whole (GAAW) process session earlier in the morning.
By contrast, there were a few successes in our experience. We had several excellent presentations in the effort to test out various applications. It
was also clear that our SES participants appreciated and supported efforts
to implement online educational models. They suggested several other uses
for Internet communication that might benefit their learning. For instance, a
theory paper writers’-group would allow SES’s to share their concerns and
resources with one another.
In sum, we faced numerous obstacles on a practical level from the start.
Just getting representatives from all six centers on a conference call to do the
planning was impossible. Once we agreed to various compromises, including which service provider and equipment to adopt, our centers possessed
various degrees of technical skill to set up the sessions. Once we had a somewhat successful experiment with the system, there was a lack of enthusiasm
to continue due in part to the technical obstacles and in part to scheduling
difficulties. The time and responsibilities needed to carry on the program
burdened the leadership of each supervisory education group. Therefore, no
follow-up has yet been planned.
Rabbi Jeffery M. Silberman, MAHL, DMin, DD (hc), ACPE Supervisor, Director of Spiritual
Care and Clinical Pastoral Education, Norwalk Hospital, Norwalk, CT 06856 and STACNY
member (Email: Jeffrey.Silberman@Norwalkhealth.org).
129
Supervisory Practice in a Distance-Learning
Program of Formation for Ministry
Susanna Singer
In 2007, an unusual opportunity arose for the Episcopal seminary where I
serve. A neighboring diocese needed a supervised course of academic and
practical formation for priestly ministry for Christopher Wallace,1 a man
called to serve as a priest by the remote, rural congregation in which he worshipped. A full three-year Master of Divinity degree program was impossible
for Christopher because of family responsibilities and inappropriate because
of his age and financial situation.
Because Christopher was a long-time Episcopalian, unusually well-read
and theologically informed, the diocese contracted with the Church Divinity
School of the Pacific (CDSP) for an individualized learning plan. Such an individual local formation for ministry was a new departure for the diocese. I
was the faculty member designated as Christopher’s advisor and supervisor.
Questions Raised
This opportunity challenged me to think about CDSP’s educational and formational strategies and commitments, as well as my own supervisory practice.
We stress the reflective integration of rigorous academic work with ministry
practice. These norms are well-summarized in Educating Clergy,2 an in-depth
study of the ways residential seminary programs form the ministerial imagination that informs our teaching practice and curriculum.
The supervisory practices to effect this reflection and integration rely on
regular, but informal, encounters between faculty and students in the classroom, through the advisory relationship and participation in the worship and
community life. Would the use of email, the telephone, and occasional faceto-face contact provide the same quality of supervision? Would online courses
and reflection on ministry done in a remote setting effect the same coherent
program of formation?
The educational plan we decided on was a two-year combination of online courses, brief residential intensives at CDSP when the community was
absent, reading courses, local apprenticeship, and online reflection on his expanding practice of ministry. Christopher had several supervisors: a retired
priest with temporary charge of his congregation discussed practical issues
arising from their shared ministry there; online courses allowing Christopher
to discuss academic issues with instructors; practical training in pastoral min-
130
istry with a local chaplain provided another arena for reflection and supervision; and regular email exchanges with me which were intended to integrate
his program of formation and study.
Several unusual elements in Christopher’s situation—his high level of
church experience, his strong motivation for self-directed study, and his superior writing skills—were advantages as we began. Additionally, the fact that
he and I had been fellow-parishioners and friends for several years meant we
already had a relationship. For these reasons, Christopher was a positive candidate to attempt a distance-supervision experiment with for the first time at
CDSP and in the diocese.
Insights from Experience
During the two years, there were a surprising number of occasions for supervision: over 150 email exchanges occurred between Christopher and me. In
addition, there were regular email exchanges with his local supervisors, three
formal sermon critiques given by his congregation, sixteen reflection papers
discussed with me via email, one major theological and one major scriptural
paper for which he received faculty feedback, five or six phone conversations
between the two of us, and three visits by me to his congregation—where I
met with Christopher and his local discernment team to review his program.
As I review these largely electronic interactions, I am struck both by the
amount and depth of reflection on academic work and ministerial practice
that Christopher did, and by the relatively large amount of intentional and
critically-reflective supervision he received from me compared to a residential student. The simple fact that using email requires writing, and that emails
can be saved, gave our work a substance that the same work done informally
with residential students does not share. Christopher’s transformation over
time was accessible to further reflection and this compensated for our relative
lack of face-to-face contact.
In Christopher’s formation process, many of the usual residential theological dynamics were reversed. Because residential students have easy access to academic study in the classroom, faculty may worry whether students
get enough ministerial practice to reflect upon and integrate adequately with
their academic study. Christopher was immersed in the practice of ministry in
his congregation as a licensed preacher and liturgist. As he became the de facto
pastoral leader, a more public presence in his community emerged. My worry was providing enough academic content and facilitating his integration of
academics and ministerial practice from “the opposite direction.” Our super-
131
visory exchanges usually began with issues arising from ministry practice,
but Christopher’s academic interests were always brought into the process of
reflection in effective ways.
My supervisory task was to help Christopher make the transition from
being a reflective participant in the life of his congregation to becoming a reflective professional ministry leader. He learned contextual interpretation
by exploring his context to me and within himself. I observed his personal
transformation as Christopher developed into a particular kind of person: a
priest. Over time, his questions and concerns shifted significantly from issues
of academic content to reflecting on the pastoral relationships he had initially viewed with trepidation. His confidence in his skill-set increased and nuanced spiritual awareness of his priestly-calling deepened.
We designed the program to make extensive use of Christopher’s regular preaching as a primary vehicle for reflection and integration. He preached
more than 20 sermons over the course of two years and we used those to reflect on his skills in scriptural exegesis, his theological depth and coherence,
and his creative pastoral imagination. We did the same with the liturgies he
planned and led. The reflection on pastoral and theological issues that arose
more and more in Christopher’s reflective emails was often manifested in his
preaching preparation and in his liturgical design work.
Another key programmatic element was Christopher’s reflection on creating and/or working with two ministry groups (responsible for liturgy and
pastoral care) and his leadership of the Vestry (the governing board). This unusual combination of roles (congregational leader and clergy-in-formation),
gave Christopher the chance to practice what he was learning in leadership
courses, including affecting an intervention of some unhealthy group dynamics. Also, he used his learning in pastoral liturgy to develop an education process that invited the congregation into some new pastoral practices around
death and dying. At all times, the emphasis on his reflective practice of ministry gave our supervisory work concrete foci and enabled a natural integration
of academic material.
As Christopher looks back on his experience from the other side of his
priestly ordination, he offers the following reflections:
• Most valuable to him was the flexibility of the program, its integration of academics and ministry practice, and focused supervision from several sources.
• The email format worked well for him because of his love of writing. He produced extra reflection papers because of the value he found in reflecting on
specific issues.
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• The combination of local mentoring and supervision (his hospital experience
was especially empowering) with overall coordination and integration gave
variety and coherence to his formation.
• His supervisory relationship with me emerged naturally out of our existing
friendship while remaining distinct from it. Positive feedback was empowering
and negotiating the process of receiving negative feedback from me strengthened
his professional self-understanding and awareness of appropriate boundaries.
• He missed the collegial connection with other seminarians that he would
have had as a residential student and wished for more opportunities to talk
things through with peers. Our history as friends made it possible to be frank
and open in our supervisory exchanges.
• Christopher regarded the weakest element of the program the formal online
courses, which varied in quality of content and feedback depending on the
instructor.
Future Directions
Supervising Christopher Wallace provided me with a focused opportunity
to look closely at my own practices of advising and supervision. As a result of my experience with Christopher, I now require regular written reflections and the discipline of intentional meetings with residential students.
Also, it provided an occasion to field-test a different approach to ministerial
education and formation as we consider adding distance-learning options
to our curriculum. As a result of Christopher’s experience, we are adding
regular online advising and supervision to student cohort groups, together
with brief residential intensives that focus on formation in community as
well as academics. A course in practical theological reflection will anchor students’ initial experience of the residential intensive—and reflective practice
in preaching, liturgics, and pastoral care will be integral to their on-site work.
noTeS
1.
All proper names used in this article, except that of the seminary, are pseudonyms.
2.
Charles Foster, Lisa Dahill, Lawrence A. Golemon, et al, Educating Clergy: Teaching Practices and Pastoral imagination (San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass, 2006).
The Reverend Susanna Singer, PhD, Assistant Professor of Ministry Development and Director, Doctor of Ministry Programs, Church Divinity School of the Pacific, 2151 Ridge Rd.,
Berkeley, CA 94709 (Email: ssinger@cdsp.edu).
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Virtual Reflection or Virtually Reflecting?
Doing Group Theological Reflection Online
Lee Beach
Group theological reflection is at the core of many Field Education programs.
Group reflection on real-life case studies produces passion, empathy, tears,
arms around shoulders, laughter, powerful moments of shared insight, and
sometimes even life-long friendships. For many students, this aspect of their
seminary experience is at, or near, the top of their favorite memories. So,
what happens when you take the concept of group theological reflection
and place it in a virtual classroom? Does the same kind of passion get generated? Can a communal transcendent moment happen online? And, ultimately, can good theological reflection take place in an online forum?
These are real questions that must be explored when we choose to use
digital technology to create a virtual world as a venue for the reflective aspect of experiential learning programs. In this context, I use the term ‘virtual’ to describe the experience of being present relationally through the
means of online technology without being present physically.
As a field educator, I oversee a summer field education program that
is almost completely based online. Ministry Formation courses at the seminary at McMaster University can be taken throughout the academic year
(September–April) or during the summer (May–August). The summer program is unique in that it affords students the opportunity to do placements
anywhere in the world without being required to meet on campus for group
reflection on their ministry experience. Instead, students meet for two days
of orientation and group building at the very beginning of the summer
course and for one day of debriefing at the end of August. In between those
meetings, the weekly group interaction—focused on student presentations
of case studies based on their ministry experience—takes place online in a
virtual classroom. This reflection is based on my experience in both faceto-face group meetings and virtual-group theological reflection. Group reflection done in a virtual world holds many of the same obstacles that faceto face group reflection does, as well as some unique options that make it
attractive.
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The Potential and Pitfalls of Online Theological Reflection
The key to a vibrant online community is not that much different than the
key to a face-to-face community—intentionality, authenticity, and meaningful experiences to reflect on together. The two-day initial face-to-face meeting is crucial. When the right tone is set, potential for a genuine reflective
online community emerges that can enable the virtual experience to be as
satisfying as a live one. When they return for a final day of reflection, it has
been my experience that people who began largely as a group of strangers,
come together for a joy-filled, tear-filled day to unpack together the work
they did separately over the summer.
A Written Forum
One of the benefits of online group dialogue is that it must be written. While
we have always known that the process of writing case material and responses is a good way to synthesize our thoughts and cause more careful
articulation, a face-to-face discussion may easily slide into verbal reporting
or responding that favors the verbal group participants. Online group theological reflection demands written material. In my experience, online posts
reflect a genuinely measured, sincere, and thoughtful response to a ministry
experience that is usually repeated in the ongoing, online group interaction.
In a written forum, the discussion tends to be a bit more focused as group
members respond to each other and I attribute this, at least in part, to the use
of written communication.
For those not as gifted in writing, an online forum can be a challenge.
This is particularly true for those for whom the group’s common language is
their second language. In a virtual-forum body language, facial expression,
gesture, and immediate help in finding the right way to express a thought
are eliminated. These missing cues may make it more difficult to engage in
theological reflection online as robustly as in a face-to-face group.
Sustaining Attention
For some, the lack of physical proximity can lead them to take the group less
seriously than they would if they were seeing their fellow group members
regularly and having to look them in the eye. The accountability that seems
more inherent in face-to-face group meetings is diminished in the virtual
meeting, particularly if the group uses written posts as the form for group
interaction. Detachment is easy. When this occurs, even the most eager par-
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ticipant may become less engaged with group discourse. The lack of physical meetings may exacerbate an inclination toward minimal participation.
Other Challenges
It can be harder to ‘coach’ theological reflection at a distance. When a group
or a particular student is struggling with the art of theological reflection in
the virtual classroom, addressing the issue can be trickier than simply drawing someone aside for a conversation and giving them some instruction on
to how to improve. If it is a whole group that needs some coaching, having
a conversation with them is not always easy or straightforward. Anytime
we try to help people develop their ability to do good theological reflection
we are embarking on a journey that will take time. Doing group theological
reflection online will inevitably be more labor intensive.
Despite the fact that I have had many positive experiences with virtual
groups, in general, I have found that virtual theological reflection groups
usually do lack a certain dynamic that being physically together provides.
The assumption that people feel freer to share openly online is not always
true. Some people will be more guarded in a virtual discussion if they are
anxious about how their written comments will be interpreted without the
aid of tone and inflection or if they don’t have the ability to quickly clarify a
misinterpreted comment. Virtual groups are less willing to ask tough questions or address personal issues. The challenges of group refection online are
often the same as the potential benefits. In other words, the things that can
be positive can also take a negative turn and become real challenges for this
kind of approach.
Engage in the Task of Coaching the Group
As already noted, one of the challenges of virtual groups is the feeling of
emotional distance that can pervade a group when they are not sitting down
across from one another on a regular basis. Leaders have to be aware of the
danger of complacency and very intentionally dedicate themselves to offering
the same kind of teaching/coaching with an online group as they would with
any other group. This means working one-on-one with students who need
extra coaching, even if this must be done via email or phone. It means giving
the group good feedback on their presentations, interaction as is appropriate,
and encouraging good performances, privately and in the group as a whole.
Confront Unacceptable Performance
If online groups are going to deliver quality educational experiences to our
students and help them develop as theologically reflective practitioners,
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then we will need to engage the various shortcomings that our students experience (or perpetuate) with equal, or a higher, degree of dedication than
we would when we sit with our students in our office or over coffee. The
online world can make these conversations more challenging, but they must
be part of how we do online theological education if it is to equip students
effectively for their calling.
Conclusion
If at all possible, including face-to-face elements with the virtual component can
help to increase the overall experience and quality of group reflection. In my
program, the opening two days are a vital part of forming group affinity and
trust. In those two days, we discuss theological reflection, explore our expectations for the group, share personal stories, our summer learning goals, prayer
requests, and have meals together. Bonds begin to form and these are carried
into the virtual community that continues to meet throughout the summer.
As the virtual church continues to emerge as a very real option for
people to choose as their primary place for spiritual connection and growth,
online education may become essential in order to train students for virtual
ministry. One of the great needs for the church in the years ahead may be
that of “ipastors.” That is, people who are able to pastor people through online forums. Introducing virtual Field Education options contributes to the
overall equipping of a new generation of virtual ministry pioneers.
When we learn to adjust our expectations and understand that meeting in a virtual classroom is not better or worse—just different—than being
physically together in a classroom, then we put ourselves into a position to
maximize an online experience. When we have helped to create the right set
of expectations and dedicated ourselves to helping develop the life of our
online group, then our virtual reflection community can thrive and, perhaps, even experience some virtual moments of genuine transcendence.
Lee Beach, PhD, Assistant Professor of Christian Ministry and Director of Ministry Formation, McMaster Divinity College, 1280 Main St. West, Hamilton, ON L8S 4K1, Canada
(Email: beachl@mcmaster.ca).
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Overcoming Distance and Time: Online Supervisor
Training in Contextual Education Programs
Susan E. Fox and Stephanie B. Croom
At the 2007 annual meeting of Presbyterian and Reformed Theological Field
Educators (known by the awkward acronym, PRTFE (pronounced “prit’fee”),
there was passionate conversation about a disturbing trend emerging at the
16 seminaries represented in this collaboration. Each school is struggling
to find ways to develop and nurture excellent supervisors and mentors for
our interns. For multiple reasons, increasing numbers of our supervisors
are receiving inadequate, or no, orientation to our contextual education programs. Because a significant number of our students engage in internships
beyond commuting range of their respective seminaries, travel to an oncampus orientation with their supervisors is difficult and expensive. Other
supervisors simply cannot find enough time in their schedules to commit to
a multi-day training event. This trend is clearly impacting the quality of supervision our students receive, with the result that the internship experience
does not maximize the potential benefits for pastoral formation.
Clearly, many current ways of doing supervisory business are not adequate
given the realities of distance, time, and ethos of today’s supervisors. Adult learners are increasingly expecting flexible educational formats. Furthermore, field
educators who have the task of equipping supervisors for their work find that
traditional pedagogies, limited budgets, and increased workloads often make
old models of orienting supervisors untenable. By the end of the PRTFE meeting
in January, 2009, we determined that an alternative delivery system for supervisor orientation was going to be our next major collaborative undertaking.
In a grant proposal to the Committee on Theological Education (COTE)
of the Presbyterian Church (USA), we wrote:
PRTFE members are eager to design what will be the first online field education supervisor orientation, one that will allow all our site supervisors
to receive the preparation they need, no matter how far from our seminary they may be located. Further, this project will result in an orientation with content that represents the best practices in supervisor training
drawn from our fifteen seminaries.
To our delight, COTE responded enthusiastically, valuing both the rationale for the grant proposal and PRTFE’s commitment to collaborative work
among our seminaries.
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Planning for such an ambitious collaborative venture required intense
work sessions during two meetings of the PRTFE caucus in 2009. During that
time, PRTFE wrestled with questions that are inherent to online pedagogy:
1. Who is our audience? Supervisors, certainly, but how comfortable will they
be with this kind of technology?
2. What technology will the supervisors have at their disposal? Some of our
supervisors are in rural areas that are limited to dial-up modems. Some do
not have computers.
3. Are we expecting this online delivery system to provide ALL the content
necessary to ensure base-level competency for supervisors who cannot get to
campus?
4. Will we be able to develop base-line modules on key content that will be applicable for and accepted by all our seminaries?
5. What constitutes base-line competence?
6. How long should each “module” take to complete? How will we know if the
supervisor completes the module?
7. Will experienced supervisors be able to benefit from the online platform we
develop?
8. Where will we lodge this online platform so that it is accessible by all
seminaries?
9. Given that online pedagogy differs from face-to-face pedagogy, do we have
enough competence within our cohort to design online learning modules?
10. How ominous is it that the project director can’t get the data projector to
work during our first meeting?
Over the course of a year, a design team of four of our members took
the insights, questions, and module-content suggestions from the caucus
meeting and shaped, and reshaped, an online design and pedagogy. Of primary concern to the team was the identification of a theological motif to
serve as a unifying thread throughout each module. What is foundational
to our understanding of the web of relationships central to our discipline
and to this project? Intentional, extended reflection on this question led us
to covenant.
The theme of ‘covenant’ clearly reflects a theological perspective common in the Calvinist tradition. We have sought to make this theology visible in the design of our syllabi for field education in the past. How would
it translate into shaping an online course for the future? What are the implications of covenantal theology for content, design, expectations, and accessibility issues? How do we convey our commitment to the covenantal
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connections between seminary, student, supervisor, congregation, and denominational affiliations when digital technology makes distance easier and
cultural trends foster increasingly diverse expectations and learning patterns? These questions remain at the forefront of our work together.
Along the way, we have learned valuable lessons. First, technology
keeps changing. What seems like the outer limits of possibility for technology today may appear as obsolete as eight-track tapes tomorrow. Our original concept for where to lodge this shared online orientation now seems
laughable. Suffice it to say that, today, the site is housed on a free blog site,
in our case, WordPress (www.wordpress.org). PRTFE members can access
the site easily and administrative privileges can be granted as needed (and
as wanted!). Editing the site is simple, which is essential given the wealth of
relevant websites, podcasts, and videos that are being developed. One does
not have to understand HyperText Markup Language (HTML) to develop a
highly functional, helpful site.
Secondly, we have been on a steep learning curve about what resources
are available for online teaching in general and for supervision in particular.
One member of the design team did have some basic training in online teaching, but the three-year gap between that training and this project confirmed
the speed with which technology moves. Who knew that YouTube has some
excellent resources on mentoring? What is the video attention span for the average online learner? What is the best way to use PowerPoint online? What if a
student doesn’t have the software to open a PowerPoint presentation? Will we
be able to employ some form of video-conferencing platform? And on it goes...
Unexpected benefits have surprised and excited us. What began as a
dream to ensure that those supervisors at a distance or those challenged by
time could be equipped for supervision is actually becoming a tool that will
serve ALL supervisors well. Not only is the base-line level material provided for each online module we have developed useful for all supervisors, but
a separate area is also available with more advanced materials for experienced supervisors.
PRTFE colleagues are making plans to use this online supervisor training not only as a distance-learning tool, but also in a hybrid format. Some
of us who still have some supervisors able to attend on-campus training are
considering asking those participants to work through parts of the online
modules prior to coming to campus. This advance preparation will allow us
to maximize our face-to-face time with supervisors, giving us valuable time
to engage at a much deeper level with these on-site partners-in-ministry.
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As of this writing, the first of approximately seven modules is complete, and the content for the others is well under way. PRTFE debuted the
project and the completed module at the January, 2011 biennial meeting of
the Association for Theological Field Education and it was received with
enthusiasm, confirming what has motivated us from the beginning: utilizing technology is now essential to our work in supervision and field studies; we are only now beginning to recognize the potential it has for our work
together.
Perhaps “together” is the operative word. Some of us may have neither
the proclivity nor the desire to become technologically proficient. But good
colleagues, who know how to dream big, work hard, and laugh till it hurts,
can make that huge learning curve look much less intimidating. This is still a
work-in-progress, but once the work is complete, we will be happy to share
it with everyone. Simply contact us at the email addresses below.
Susan E. Fox, Director of Supervised Ministry and Vocation Planning and Professor of
Supervised Ministry, Union Presbyterian Seminary, 3401 Brook Rd., Richmond, VA 23227
(Email: sfox@upsem.edu).
Stephanie B. Croom, Associate Director, Formation for Ministry, Western Theological
Seminary, 101 E. 13th St., Holland MI 49423 (Email: stephanie@westernsem.edu).
Reflections on Practices and Possibilities
Kamal Abu-Shamsieh
Online spiritual care and field education supervision aims at providing future religious leaders with the skills and personal insight needed to understand and empower individuals with whom they minister. In traditional settings, this task is usually accomplished through face-to-face encounters in
the presence of a supervisor. In the examples outlined in the preceding essays, ministry supervisors are making use of digital technology to maintain
the support, empowerment, and guidance of chaplains and other religious
leaders near and far. The essays capture the pros and cons of online and distant learning and the stories share many common aspects.
It is generally agreed that remote chaplains or ministers-in-training
benefit particularly from the combination of online didactic education and
digital supervision. The advantages of digital formation and supervision are
enormous and bridge geographic distance in an era in which the boundaries
of classrooms are being constructed in the virtual sphere. Digital technology
allows chaplains and ministry students to “attend” supervisory sessions at
anytime from anywhere in the world that has Internet access, regardless of
location or time-difference from anywhere. A major advantage of online education is that it allows students to access didactic materials 24 hours a day,
7 days a week.
Kamal Abu-Shamsieh, Director, Islamic Cultural Center of Fresno, 2111 E. Nees Ave., Fresno, CA 93720 (E-Mail: director@icfresno.org).
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Reflections on practices and possibilities
While I have not participated in any digitally-based clinical pastoral
education (CPE), I did enroll in five online classes during my study at Hartford Seminary. The process was both enriching and convenient—but it was
also frustrating. In order to read the professor’s lecture, digest the required
weekly readings, post my comments, read my colleagues’ posts, and provide my own posting, I spent considerably more time than I would preparing for a traditional classroom. The frequent log-on and log-off process
meant that students needed to invest additional time to refresh their memory of the previous posts of their colleagues and respond to their comments.
Some class participants monopolized the discussion with very long postings
in a way that would not be tolerated in traditional classroom. After completing five courses online, I still wondered if the online education process was
worth the amount of money and time I spent. I had that online experience
in mind as I read the accounts in this section about digital formation and
supervision.
A Critical Review of the Benefits of Digital Supervision
This essay will discuss online didactics and the impact of the digital supervision process on chaplains or ministry students and their supervisors. As the
technology continues to change rapidly, it becomes more user-friendly and
in sync with the digital generation. What is at stake in the utilization of virtual meetings? Can ministry students and supervisors succeed using digital
means in what was once an exclusively face-to-face traditional supervision
setting? Can supervisors formed in a previous era adjust to the language
and culture of the digital generation?
One constant theme in these essays is the endorsement of the digital
supervision despite the major challenges the participants encountered. For
example, Association for Clinical Pastoral Education (ACPE) supervisor,
Gary Sartain, faced the challenge of finding a secure platform to conduct online supervision, and ultimately adopted MegaMeeting, which provided the
group with ample technological capabilities. In his case, the process yielded
the results sought. The stress with the system was related to the absence of
technical expertise at some centers or the necessary resolve to overcome the
frustration that accompanies this new era.
One of the successful models was adopted by Martha Rutland. In her
case, the use of combined face-to-face group instruction at the beginning
and end of the program provided the group with the opportunity to break
Abu-Shamsieh
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the barriers of being strangers. Ongoing support between the two meetings
was accomplished through follow-up telephone calls and emails. I was surprised to learn that the students had to initiate their first contact with their
hospice patient by telephone while expecting the result to be intimate and
empathetic. I still wonder if distant students would benefit more from arranging their field education supervision in a local facility, where they can
conduct their clinical pastoral visit and then report on such visits utilizing
distant-learning methods.
The Person at the Center
The basic elements of supervisory success remain unchanged despite the
increasingly diverse background of participants, the kind of classroom (virtual or traditional), or the type of technology used. The person remains at
the center of the process and supervisors need to invest their time and efforts intentionally and authentically to replicate the benefits in peer-review
of their clinical experiences.
First of all, traditional settings allow participants to witness closely the
depth of the experience. In his article, Lee Beach acknowledged that online the analytical depth and length of peer comments varied from one participant to another. Second, online education is a great tool for non-native
English-speaking students who lack the spoken-language proficiency, yet
who might have strong writing skills that would make reading their online
postings a pleasurable experience. Third, introverts, who might hide or otherwise require on-the-spot prompting, blossomed in online supervision by
interacting without the pressure of the traditional supervisory setting that
favors extraverts. Finally, technical difficulties were inevitable as some participants struggled with the limited bandwidth of their Internet connection,
which meant slower performance for sound, video, and large graphics—it
ultimately took too much time to download a presentation.
Digital technology is ever-changing and provides for various interactive possibilities that were unavailable a decade ago. Because the technology
is changing so rapidly, it will be a financial challenge for some supervisory
centers to keep up with the ever-changing software and equipment. This
will be particularly difficult in places around the globe where the preparation of religious leaders occurs in contexts with limited economic resources.
The overwhelming majority of current college graduates are technologically
savvy, is able to navigate online very easily, and can adapt to new equip-
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Reflections on practices and possibilities
ment more quickly than it can be purchased. Do spiritual care departments
have the funds and support staff needed to continually update the technology and train chaplains in its usage? Is it possible for an older pastoral supervisor or spiritual care supervisor, whose whole career has been spent in
a traditional setting, to communicate well with students who speak a digital
language and live in a virtual world?
It is my judgment that the failure to capture real-time emotions will
eventually deprive chaplains of the generosity of active listening, offering
empathy, or strengthening camaraderie. The greatest gift of listening is to
open ourselves and provide an active listening environment based on the
ability to be present in support of one another. Can future religious leaders
engaged in remote learning fully experience the gift of empathetic listening?
I also wonder to what degree the hospitality of being welcoming and open
to a speaker is missing when supervisees are not in the physical presence of
each other? To what degree does the virtual setting compromise the foundation of trust and the gift of vulnerability, an essential foundation for supervision and peer-review? A setting where chaplains can see multiple windows
on the same screen, the impact will be different from a webinar where participants type their comments without the ability to see and speak simultaneously. Are participants aware of their own presence and the presence of
others—and are they knowledgeable of any internal limits? Digital supervision of clinical experiences might capture the basic foundation of good
supervision, yet it compromises the human element in tender moments of
physical meeting. The virtual experience will ultimately fail in the face of
grief and loss. At such times, the silence of the virtual supervision is deafening—it fails to be powerful compared to the silence of group peer-support at
a time when silence is a sacred act of empowerment.
Peer-Group intimacy and Video-Teleconferencing:
A Response and Reflections by a
CPe Supervisory education Peer-Group
Kurt Shaffert
Patrick Whiteford
mary Q. browne
elizabeth Putnam
The four of us are Association for Clinical Pastoral Education, Inc. (ACPE)
Supervisory Education Students located in Veterans Affairs (VA) Medical
Centers in four different states—Connecticut, New York, Pennsylvania, and
Tennessee. We each joined this VA-specific peer group as a special interest
group, supervising students about veterans’ issues. Also, each of us participates in a face-to-face peer group in our local areas. We are an example of
what Gary Sartain alludes to in his article about a group of students logging
in from separate sites. We make use of the VA system-wide technology, VTel, which Jeffrey Silberman refers to in his essay, meeting online for two
hours every other week with a primary Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE)
Training Supervisor. Our shared experimentation with the format has enabled us to form a group that is uniquely our own. Initially, we found it awkward to replicate a traditional CPE Interpersonal Relations Group online. So
instead, we focused our time together on presenting case studies and theory
papers. To our surprise, significant intimacy developed in our relationships.
We have not only become an “I-It” group with a task: we have discovered
also the power and shared intimacy of being an “I-Thou” group by sharing
the vulnerabilities in our respective CPE journeys. Each of us offers a reflection on how we have experienced this digital form of supervisory education.
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PEER-GROUP INTIMACY AND VIDEO-TELECONFERENCING
Holding a mirror: Awkwardness Facilitates new behaviors
Kurt Shaffert
Martha Rutland’s description of a student learning from the challenges of
the medium of communication makes sense to me. Both CPE training and
the teleconference format challenge me to practice sharing myself in new
ways. For instance, in the technology that we use, I see a picture of myself
alongside pictures of each of my peers on the screen. In this way, I have a
mirror held up to me—while seeing myself, I see the facial expressions of
my peers reacting to my sharing. No matter how much I try to relate in my
usual ways, this is both awkward and challenging for me. When there is a
delay in the response time of the connection line or when the screen suddenly breaks into crazy patterns, we laugh and vent together. The awkwardness
of this group form normalizes the clumsiness of this opportunity to try new
behaviors. In these shared uncomfortable experiences, I find we share a kind
of graciousness and gracefulness together as we explore new ways of relating. Through, and perhaps because of, these challenges, the space between
us is alive to me. The unexpected bonus for me is that I can see myself as I
relate to others in this online group. In face-to-face groups, others may give
me feedback, but in our teleconference meetings I have the immediate mirroring of my interactions alongside their responses. That shared mirroring
has intensified the intimacy for me.
Kurt Shaffert, MDiv, ACPE Supervisory Education Student and Chaplain at VA Connecticut, 950 Campbell Ave., West Haven, CT 06516 (Email: Kurt.Shaffert@va.gov).
Pastoral intentionality beyond Touch
Patrick Whiteford
One learning-tool from any CPE experience has been the importance of appropriate, and pastoral, touch. Holding someone’s hand, anointing at the
moments of death, offering a supportive hug—all of these have been sacramental moments that have helped to create a tangible connection between
myself and another. My experience of this VA-based online peer group has
deepened my sense of how we make connection with each other beyond
touch. Despite the inability to offer a peer my physically tangible affirmation, my experience of our group affirms that connection is possible. For ex-
SHAFFERT, WHITEFORD, BROWNE, AND PUTNAM
147
ample, a recent confrontation with a peer resulted in increased understanding and bonding between the two of us. This interaction had a nurturing
effect on the entire group because it expanded our sense of connection and
community. Our relationship as a peer-group has grown out of our collective intentionality of purpose. Even though we cannot physically touch one
another, I feel a sense of loss if I cannot be present for one of our calls—it
means that I have missed an opportunity to deepen my connection with my
colleagues. I think my sense of loss when missing an interaction with the
group reflects the greater intentionality we all share in nurturing and sustaining our group. It is a remarkable experience of intimacy beyond touch.
Patrick Whiteford, MDiv, ACPE Supervisory Candidate and Chaplain at VA Memphis,
1030 Jefferson Ave., Memphis, TN 38104 (Email: Robert.Whiteford@va.gov).
A Distance which Frees
mary Q. browne
Knowing that we do not work together, or even live in the same state, has
enabled me to be genuine and open with this peer-group. Because of the
distance, I feel safer in disclosing very personal information. Over the V-Tel,
I can see myself in relation to the others on the screen and I can watch their
reactions. We have just enough distance to be comfortable, yet intimate. In
risking video-vulnerability, I have felt acceptance. I am honored to experience gentle, kind, yet challenging, reactions. While we share personal details
and offer feedback and critique, we grow in our relationship on an emotional and spiritual level—there is holiness in this intimate communication.
Both our togetherness and our separateness are more obvious, even more
intentional, via video than if all participants were in the same room sharing the same space. On a theological level, this demonstrates the tension
between transcendence and imminence. The peers are out there, intimately
connected to me, but not “in” me until we interact. I then carry them with
me in my heart. Even at a distance, we share sacred space.
Mary Q. Browne, MDiv, BCC, LCSW, ACPE Supervisory Candidate and Clinical Chaplain
at VA Pittsburgh Healthcare System, 7180 Highland Dr. (646A5–125H), Pittsburgh, PA
15206 (Email: Mary.Browne@va.gov).
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PEER-GROUP INTIMACY AND VIDEO-TELECONFERENCING
lag-time as Process
elizabeth Putnam
The lag in communication of my “self” and the group on the screen is itself
a reflection of the process of being a part of a group across distance. Early
on, if something happened that needed processing, it might wait until the
next session, as it took longer for the reaction to be clear. We still have that
delay sometimes. Recently I felt that an interchange between myself and a
peer raised tension. I checked it out and my peer said, “No, no tension; just
interesting differences.” The next time we met online, my peer said, “Yes,
there had been a tense reaction.” There was a lag time required to get us
both onscreen and communicating. Shortly thereafter, I opened up some of
my most sensitive places for reflection and discussion, and found that the
group, over a great distance, could bring both learning and caring. On the
day of our first hug over the screen as we said good bye, I remembered my
Supervisor’s words to me when I first heard about this new format: “CPE
groups over the V-Tel screen work.”
In sum, we are all essentially saying that the “screen” acts as a mirror
for ourselves in group process, much like the parallel process of ministering
out of our own experience. We all value the distance, which frees us to explore our own “stuff” and to interact with less fear. As we have taken risks,
we have increased our personal vulnerability, and thereby, grown closer and
our conversations have become more intimate. While this format has its inherent limits, this group has been “good enough” for our learning together.
Elizabeth Putnam, MDiv, BCC, ACPE Supervisory Education Student and Chaplain at VA
New York Harbor Healthcare System, 423 East 23rd St., (Chaplain Service 16 South), New
York, NY 10010 (Email: Elizabeth.Putnam4@va.gov).
SeCTion 5
OUTSIDE THE THEME
From its inception, this journal has encouraged people to write
out of their particular practice in order to develop a body of general theory about pastoral supervision. As the contexts and disciplines for supervision have broadened, it has become increasingly important that articles embrace a wide variety of issues in supervision. Balancing
the general and the particular is an exquisitely delicate task. Whatever form
of ministry practice you engage in, I promise you that you will learn about
supervising in your own craft by reading what Joretta Marshall has written
about supervising for pastoral counseling. It is remarkably comprehensive
in its scope and yet very evocative in its focus. “Collaborative generativity,”
as Marshall defines that metaphor, is a dynamic and life-enhancing process
necessary for many expressions of ministry. Collaboration is generative because it leads to new and fresh theological and pastoral commitments.
Neil Sims had titled an earlier version of his essay “I Don’t Have Time
to Read This” to emphasize the pressure on religious leaders that makes reflective practice so difficult. He proposes (and even insists) that ‘reflective
practice’ is absolutely necessary for religious leaders of any tradition in any
context. In order to make that case, he revisits and expands the work of Donald Schön on being a ‘reflective practitioner’ and challenges ministers to be
attentive to reflection in many modes: knowing-in-action, reflection-in-action,
reflection-on-action, and reflection-for-action. The practice of theological reflection, Sims suggests, ‘builds muscles’ for a lifetime of interpreting situations
in order to discern the presence and purpose of God. Such disciplined practice of reflection is life-giving not only because it enhances competence but
because it engenders hope in hard times.
Supervision is, among other things, a rite of passage that provides a
framework for an individual to move from observation to participation,
from being an untutored novice to measured competence. As with all initiatory rites, there is also a communal dimension to the process. “Legitimate
Peripheral Participation” is the concept that Matt Floding and Glen Swier use
to track how one enters a community of practice. “The newcomer’s participation at first is legitimately peripheral, but over time is centripetally drawn
inwards and becomes more engaged and more complex until one becomes a
full participant in a social community.” The authors describe the process of
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Section 5: Outside the Theme
becoming a member of a professional society to illustrate the transition from
legitimate peripheral participation to the center of a community of practice.
Although this is an intriguing and sensible idea, I wonder how it will work
with the current under-30 generation whose experience is already authoritative and whose readiness for full participation at the center makes the periphery problematic.
The final two essays in the section examine adult developmental issues
of ministry candidates for formation and supervision from two perspectives. Timothy Lincoln’s essay examines the life world of first career seminarians under the age of 30. Individuals organize their perceptions of everyday life according to a commonsense interpretive frame (life world) shaped
by cultural and social forces. Theological schools shape distinct life worlds
for their students. Within the same life world, however, students will have
very distinct and unique life experiences. Lincoln observes that the differences between first-career and second-career students suggest that theological
educators would do well to provide robust mentoring and advising to firstcareer students to help them integrate the academic program, relationships
with students, life outside of school, and ministry experiences.
Lorraine Ste-Marie has produced a significant, but complex, framework for thinking about adult development among theological students. Although the formation and education of religious leaders has always been
about the development of adults; attention to adult development theory has
been more implicit than explicit in the formation and education of religious
leaders. The essay includes the results of a survey regarding the place of
adult development theory in field education. For example, students who are
more able to critique themselves and their practice of ministry are more able
to do theological reflection. The contribution of this essay for anyone engaged in formation and supervision is the articulation of a complex framework for adult development created by Otto Laske. Although his approach
may not work in every context, Ste-Marie uses the Constructive Developmental Framework to emphasize the importance of attending to development in adults. As the readership of Reflective Practice becomes more global, we will also need to be attentive to the ways in which the formation of
adults is context-specific.
Herbert Anderson
Editor
Collaborative Generativity:
The What, Who, and How of Supervision in
a Modern/Post-modern Context
Joretta L. Marshall
Providing and receiving supervision has been an integral part of the vocational life of many pastors, teachers, and pastoral care specialists. Reflecting
upon what we think we are doing in the context of supervision and how our
commitments are embodied in the process are central to the trustworthiness of our work. For example, when I accepted a teaching position at an
institution with an accredited American Association of Pastoral Counselors
(AAPC) pastoral counseling training center, I was immersed into individual,
group, and didactic teaching and learning in a new way. The first semester
for which I was fully responsible for supervision at the center provided an
opportunity to work with three student-clinicians who clearly self-identified as “narrative pastoral counselors.” The students were thoughtful, theologically diverse, and emerging pastoral theologians.
A Scenario from Supervision
Informed by post-modernity (with varying degrees of commitment to its
tenets), one afternoon in group supervision we embarked on a conversation
about a client who had come to the center and appeared to be under the inJoretta L. Marshall, MDiv, MA, PhD, is a Diplomate and past president of the American
Association of Pastoral Counselors and is Professor of Pastoral Theology, Care, and Counseling at Brite Divinity School, 2855 South University Dr., Fort Worth, TX 76129 (Email:
j.marshall@tcu.edu).
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COLLABORATIVE GENERATIVITY
fluence of marijuana or alcohol. The student-clinician was committed to the
client’s agency, aware of other mitigating complexities of the case (including
a history of substance abuse and a recommendation from a doctor in the client’s country of origin to use marijuana to help with an attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder diagnosis) and noted the lack of systemic support given
that the client was living in a country not of his origin.
As we discussed the case, subtle differences began to emerge among
us that reflected the theological and clinical diversity within the group. One
student, a pastor and emergency room nurse from the Nazarene tradition,
wondered what the ethical implications were of allowing the person to leave
the building and drive home if he was, indeed, impaired. The student-clinician presenting the case, post-modern in commitments and a part of the
Alliance of Baptist tradition, was committed to the agency of the client and
felt it important to follow the client’s lead, opting not to pursue the alcohol/marijuana usage. She was joined by the third student who embodied
post-modernity as an ordained United Church of Christ pastor and who
agreed that it would be an abuse of the clinician’s power to insert one’s
own perspectives into the process, thereby taking away the agency of the
client. Shaped by my own post-modern modernity, I wondered aloud about
what the clinical and theo-ethical implications were of working with someone (and receiving payment for that work) when that person was not fully
present in terms of emotional and cognitive capacities. I was also invested in
exploring what was theologically at stake in the case.
Together we explored obligations to codes of ethics, conflicts between
our theo-ethical assumptions and clinical practices, and musings about any
“risk management” issues within the larger institution in which we sat.
How does one attend to agency in clients and still raise ethical and clinical questions or concerns that challenge that agency? How does one discern new counter-narratives in the midst of theo-ethical and moral stances
that sometimes conflict with one another? How does one avoid the modern
clinical trap of “diagnosis and treatment” as a primary mode of response
and what does this imply about the pastoral nature of our work? Underneath all of this were the multiple understandings about what it means to
be a “pastoral” counselor who holds theological perspectives about human
creatures and what it is we think we are doing in the context of our work as
clinicians and theologians.1 This particular situation parallels supervisory
experiences in multiple contexts. The questions and concerns raised above
are not unique to those who are training as pastoral counselors, but are met
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by supervisors and supervisees, student-pastors, chaplains, clinicians, and
local church caregivers. In this article I will reflect on three aspects that offer a particular perspective on supervision: the “what” or the intentions of
supervision (what is it we hope happens through supervision and why); the
“who” of supervision (who is in the room, literally and figuratively) and
the “how” of supervision (what kinds of processes and theories help us invite others into their own best selves as pastoral caregivers, specialists, and
counselors).The metaphor that guides me in this process is that of “collaborative generativity.” Although the reflections in this article arose out of a
particular pastoral clinical context, the principles articulated here have applications for other contexts of pastoral supervision.
The “What” or Intention of Supervision
Commitments to three underlying values—pastoral theological methods,
teaching and learning theory, and a commitment to engage post-modern
perspectives2 in pastoral work—provide a base for supervision that is collaborative and generative. Before turning to these three values a quick definition of the term “collaborative generativity” is helpful.
The word “collaborative” is used quite often in our contemporary
world to signal that people work alongside one another in some way, often
indicating a hope to move away from more autocratic or hierarchical ways
of being. Drawing upon a particular understanding grounded in the philosophical work of clinicians who self-identify as “collaborative therapists,”
the word “collaborative” refers to “clinical work [that] is based upon mutual
agenda setting and a fundamental trust in clients’ ideas about what is best
for them. It includes holding a client’s views in the highest esteem and using
them as the cornerstones of our work with clients.”3 To be collaborative is
more than working alongside; rather it suggests a particular stance that values genuine engagement with the other. “Generativity” suggests that something that would not have been possible without such mutual dialogue is
constructed in the process. Collaborative supervision values the knowledge
and agency of the supervisee, as well as of the supervisor, and recognizes
the generativity of language and meaning that is co-constructed.
Pastoral Theological Method is Central
Collaborative generativity becomes a guiding metaphor for supervision in
that it suggests something about the qualities and intentions that are hoped
for in the shared work. The three underlying commitments noted at the out-
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set of this section provide a way to develop this metaphor. First, a commitment to pastoral theological method remains central in this model of supervision by building on dialogical engagement between praxis, theories,
theologies, ecclesial traditions, and lived experiences. The primary goal is
not to “teach” someone to be a pastoral caregiver, but to provide a space
for generative pastoral theological dialogue that invites new or altered constructions about self, other, theory, theology, and community.4
Supervision becomes a place where the art and craft of pastoral care
takes shape as persons (supervisees and supervisors) open themselves to
theological wisdom evidenced in the lives of clients, parishioners, patients,
colleagues, peers, supervisors, and communities. Returning to the scenario
with which this paper began, collaborative generativity that intentionally
engages pastoral theological method means reflecting not only on therapeutic elements of a case, but diving into theological and ethical constructions in
our reflection. How does knowing this client change the supervisee’s theological understanding of what it means to be created in the image of God?
Or, how does our mutual conversation and dialogue together generate new
theological understandings of accountability and community? How does
our collaborative work in group supervision challenge each one’s theological assumptions about the agency of God and the agency of humans? These
are the kinds of pastoral theological generative questions that emerge in dialogue together.
Nurturing Generative Learning
Second, a commitment to teaching and learning guides the embodiment of
collaborative generativity.5 The question that drives this perspective on supervision is not, “what it is that I think I am teaching through supervision,”
but, “how do I nurture the kind of relational space that allows for critical
and generative learning to take place?” Four sets of specific teaching and
learning strategies become important: developing relational qualities; enhancing the agency of the supervisee; engaging critical and post-modern
skills; and encouraging an openness to self-reflection and life-long supervision. Each of these will be explored in greater detail in the final section of
this article as I address the “how” of supervision.
Teaching and learning theory that focuses less on the offering of knowledge and more on the development of critical perspectives6 or the post-modern concept of “not-knowing” allows for something new and generative to
emerge. When the focus in supervision remains only on the transmission
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of knowledge from supervisor to supervisee there is less opportunity for a
new wind to blow into the room. Collaborative conversations are less invested in diagnosing someone or discerning the most appropriate intervention,
and more interested in wondering together about what we might learn (about
ourselves, about human beings, about God, about relationality) in the context
of mutual conversation. This shift in focus moves away from teaching people
about psychotherapeutic, or theological, Truths and more toward acknowledging an awareness that we do not know our clients, parishioners, students, or
patients in any complete way, nor do we know what is “best” for someone else.
The Contribution of a Post-modern Perspective
The third underlying commitment of collaborative generativity includes a
philosophical commitment to pastoral methods and work that lean toward
engaging more post-modern perspectives. While I value and appreciate
modern psychodynamic theory that was part of my training (and hence is
present in my supervision in some way), I am more interested in what gets
generated in the intersection of modernity and post-modernity. Maintaining
a more post-modern philosophical stance in supervision allows for greater
possibility and creativity and suggests that pastoral work is not something
learned and applied to people; rather it is a way of being that encourages
speaking and exploring with a person “in the moment.”7
The art and craft of pastoral supervision is more than just learning
tools and gaining knowledge; it is practicing, reflecting individually and in
the context of colleagues and supervisors, changing one’s mind theologically and clinically, and engaging in discourses that hope to eventuate in freshness about theological and pastoral commitments. In the scenario from the
beginning of this paper, collaborative generativity shows up not only in our
wrestling with what the student-clinician ought to do, but in our wondering
about the gifts and vulnerabilities of the client with whom she is working,
the theo-ethical persuasions that are present in the clinician’s work and in
her peers and the client, and in the co-construction of language and meaning that occurs in the context of dialogue and relationships. The overall goal
is not singularly that of making good pastoral caregivers, but of collaborating with pastoral theologians (students, colleagues, supervisors, and others)
who embody in their work a perspective that engenders the liveliness of
open and wondering theological commitments.
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The “Who” of Supervision
On the one hand, it is clear “who” is engaged in supervision: the supervisee
and the supervisor. On the other hand, in a collaborative approach it is important to value the multi-relational connections that are present in every
encounter with other individuals, such as ecclesial traditions and judicatories, theologies and theories, communities, and lived experiences. A collaborative approach is less invested in the hierarchy of supervision (which does
not mean that hierarchy disappears) and more interested in exploring the
multiple ways in which people are in relationship with one another. I would
like to explore briefly two sets of relationships in this context: Supervisees/
supervisors and the learning community.
Supervisees and Supervisors
The word supervision has often been synonymous with training or mentoring.8 Note that the word supervision (while not being the best word but
an adequate one for talking about the activity to which we refer) is defined
as an “overseer.” They go on to suggest that, “[a] supervisor is one who
can cast a detached yet concerned and compassionate eye over the landscape of counseling practice and, in so doing, can often pick out the detail
that hovers at the supervisee’s peripheral vision and which is not always
clearly seen.”9 Moving toward a more collaborative approach, the question
becomes, “How can practitioners [and] therapists create the kinds of conversations and relationships with their clients [and with one another] that allow
all participants to access their creativities and develop possibilities where
none seemed to exist before?”10
A fundamental assumption in collaborative supervision is that those
with whom we work—clients, communities, supervisees—bring their own
“local knowledge” to the dialogue and that the process of mutual inquiry
contributes to the construction of new knowledge. The term “local knowledge” reflects “knowledge, expertise, truths, values, conventions, narratives, etc.—that is created within a community of persons (i.e., family or
work team; classroom or board room) who have first-hand knowledge (i.e.,
unique meanings and understandings from personal experience) of themselves and the situation…“11 Collaborative generativity assumes that such
local knowledge is to be valued, honored, and explored—rather than diagnosed and understood—in order that new options might be imagined.
Maintaining a “not-knowing” stance is essential to supervision, as one remains less clear about what the outcome of a particular supervisory hour or
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experience ought to be. This does not mean that there are no goals, nor does
it mean that conversations are to roam randomly. Rather, it suggests that a
peculiar patience allows for new things to emerge that are not planned or
imagined.
Not knowing the outcome of work with a particular supervisee invites
everyone’s knowledge and wisdom into the space of supervision. As a supervisor, I bring the knowledge of my own social location as a post-modernleaning-modern pastoral theologian, church-related and yet on the edge of
much of my tradition, partnered lesbian, and a pastoral counselor trained in
object-relations and interested in collaborative and narrative theory alongside queer theory. My goal is to invite forth the wisdom and knowledge of
the supervisee without denying that I have things I want students to encounter and learn from a theological and/or practitioner’s perspective. The
supervisee brings the richness of life experiences as well, including what
it feels like to sit in the room with a particular client or parishioner. Yet,
none of us knows precisely what is “best” for the other, even though we
may have leanings based on the wisdom of theory, theology, and experience. The supervisor and supervisee each bring something to the relationship which ultimately changes both as language is discovered and meaning
is co-constructed.12
The Richness of Diversity
Because this collaborative stance values different kinds of experts (as opposed to sole reliance on the authority and knowledge of the supervisor),
conflicting and competing perspectives arise in the process of supervision,
such as those encountered in the scenario with which this paper began. It is
precisely this diversity that adds richness and texture to the work of supervision and to the development of pastoral caregivers. Within a collaborative
model, such differences are not to be resolved, but engaged in order that
something new comes from them.13 In the opening scenario, it was clear that
I did not know what was right for this student-clinician and her client; what
I did know, however, was that together we generated more perspectives, options, and possibilities than the student and I might have done alone. In addition, my own expertise in the room encouraged me to raise questions and
to explore theo-ethical-clinical possibilities that might not have been present
without a seasoned clinician.
Anderson and her colleagues suggest that “withness thinking” is one
way to imagine the kind of relationship that I am describing. “’Withness
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thinking’ is a dynamic form of reflective interaction that involves coming
into contact with another’s living being, with their utterances, with their
bodily expressions, with their words, their works.”14 Hierarchy—while still
present—no longer functions as the primary dominant power in the room
and, instead becomes a structure of relational accountability that can make
a way for openness and honesty. As Orlans and Edwards note in their chapter, “A Collaborative Model of Supervision,” such supervision emphasizes
“the learning of both supervisee and supervisor…A truly joint venture with
regard to learning within the supervisory relationship calls, in our view, for
a transparency in the process, and for explicit attention to be paid to the developing relationship.”15 My own goal is not to “mold” students in my image of what a good pastoral counselor is, but to encourage the development
of their best resources in this endeavor. That does not mean that I do not
have “learning goals” or “outcomes” that I think important for a pastoral
counselor. What I am suggesting is that I want to take the gifts and insights
of supervisees as seriously as I consider my insights or those of other theologians and theoreticians.
Learning Communities
A second set of relationships that are significant in the context of pastoral
supervision might best be called, “learning communities.” London and Rodriguez-Jazcilevich, suggest that,
The goals of a collaborative learning community include: (a) to access every members’ creativity and resources and foster the kind of environment
in which each participant feels comfortable, open, and part of the conversations, and (b) to create spaces and relationships in which each person
has a sense of freedom and belonging, spaces in which everyone can voice
their ideas, ask questions, and express concerns, without feeling blamed
or judged.16
Such learning communities include the multiple partners who are actually present in the room, as well as those who are metaphorically present (including clients past and present, other supervisors in the program
and beyond, institutional partners, ecclesial traditions and connections, theorists and theologians, and others who are more invisible). Three aspects
of these learning communities assist in the development of collaborative
generativity.
First, learning communities embody multiple diversities that bring
richness and new meanings to conversations. As noted earlier, the best
teaching and learning occurs, not simply when there is openness to diversi-
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ty, but when there is a deep appreciation and valuing of the various ways in
which we are different from one another. The question to be asked is: “How
might our differences offer us freshness as we work with others or as we
think about God?”17
Second, learning communities are marked by varying levels of training and experience and enhance collaborative generativity in the moment.
I am often struck, for example, by how the novel questions of newer clinicians generate rich reflections that those of us who are more seasoned have
taken as assumptive truths. Discovering ways to enhance shared learning
and growth as pastoral theologians and caregivers becomes part of my responsibility as a supervisor in the learning community.
Third, learning communities extend beyond the individuals in any
particular group. As a supervisor, I assume that others in the room draw
upon persons, theologies, and theories outside of themselves and ones with
which I am not familiar. Encouraging others to share what they have come
to know offers greater possibilities in enhancing our collective gifts and mitigating our individual limitations.
Supervision becomes more generative as I trust that the supervisees
with whom I work have thoughts and theories that can have an impact, not
only on their particular clients, but ultimately on the field of pastoral theology and pastoral counseling. As McNamee notes, we recognize “knowing as
constructed in our conjoint activities with others—in what people do together. Here, conversation suggests a ‘turning’ together.”18 This turning together
in collaborative work rests less on individual knowledge and more on learning communities as places for engendering collaborative generativity.19
The “How” of Supervision
Four specific strategies assist in crafting a generative collaborativity in the
context of supervision: developing supervisory relationships that are transparent and relationally accountable; enhancing the agency of the supervisee;
increasing skills reflective of a more post-modern approach; and encouraging openness to self-reflection and life-long supervision in both the supervisor and supervisee.
A Transparent, Relational Accountability
Two relational qualities important in collaborative generativity are transparency and relational accountability. Transparency is used in both narrative and collaborative approaches to, “define a moral position concerning
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the therapist’s determination to be genuine in relating to persons and to
avoid a top-down or professionally distanced stance.”20 Noting differences
in power, attending to “inner conversations” and appropriate disclosures
about what the supervisor is thinking in order to make our thoughts “public”21 and being clear about the boundaries and structures of our relationships remain central to supervision. Open curiosity, for example, about how
supervisees interpret, understand, or challenge the power or the concerns of
the supervisor opens all up to learning from the process of mutual critical
thinking or differences of opinion.
Remaining relationally accountable to the various partners in supervision maintains stances that minimize abusive power-over experiences with
supervisees and enhances the development of mutual relationships in light
of power differences that are real. Mutual inquiry and curiosity about the
perspectives of others assists in creating meaning and co-constructing new
language and new visions for what we are about as pastoral theologians
and caregivers. For example, I want to engage students in ways that parallel
how they might engage clients or parishioners by honestly addressing differences in power and working toward mutual conversations from which
everyone learns. Clarity about how we move through disagreements with
one another or how we hold one another accountable for power helps to
avoid an “idealized” version of collaborative work that assumes that everyone’s voice carries equal weight in the context of supervision. Genuine collaborative inquiry is risky and it takes time and energy in order to be clear
about how power is being engaged in our work together. The use of reflecting teams and other strategies provide unique ways to listen intentionally to
supervisees, and for supervisors to reflect openly with one another in front
of supervisees.22
Enhancing the Agency of Supervisees
As noted earlier, the development of the student-clinician’s agency is important in supervision. “Self-agency refers to a sense of competency or ability to
perform or take action, to have choices, and to participate in the creation of
choices. Self-narratives can create identities (meanings) that permit or hinder a sense of self-agency.”23 I do not know what vocational journey will
emerge for a supervisee, or what theoretical and theological language they
will adopt as “theirs.” As I companion with them in supervision, a part of
my role is to offer various perspectives and options from which they might
choose.
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Exploring diverse perspectives, methods, and clinical stances provides
opportunities for supervisees to shape their pastoral care in the context of
a community of others. In the process, my hope is that supervisees begin to
find ways of being that are congruent with their theo-ethical understandings and, yet, open to self-critique and the hermeneutic of suspicion about
their own perspectives. Wosket and Page speak of a tension for those who
educate by suggesting that one of the questions for supervisors, “is how
to promote healthy and creative skepticism in their trainees while delivering a model of supervision that promotes sufficient confidence and personal
conviction to enable novice supervisors to embark on the daunting journey
of accompanying and assisting counselors who are often in difficulty with
their clients.”24 Narrative counselors, Freedman and Combs, provide a list
of questions that are helpful in the process of evaluating theories, practices,
or methods. These include such things as how does a theory “see” persons;
does it invite people to see the therapist or themselves as experts on themselves; do questions lead in generative or normative directions?25
Another strategy for enhancing self-agency in supervisees occurs as
we pay attention to transformations in supervisees and articulate together
changes that occur. In the process, self-transformation becomes a resource
for transformation in others. Anderson suggests that, “[b]y transformation,
I refer to the continual newness in our lives such as knowledge, expertise,
meaning, identity, and futures that are inherent in inventive and creative
aspects of language.”26 Building on the notion of generativity, it is clear that
people continuously unfold and evolve in the context of relationality. Hence,
relationships between supervisor-supervisee, between colleagues and peers,
and between written literature and lived experience provide venues for dialogue that becomes transformative in various ways to each person in the
room. As Anderson notes, attention to “’transforming’ permits me to be ever-mindful of the fluid nature of language. It also permits me to be helpful:
to appreciate that human beings are resilient, that each person has contributions and potentials, and that each person values, wants, and strives toward
healthy successful lives and relationships.”27 Transformation in self and other becomes central to collaborative generativity.
Engaging and Attending to Skills
A third set of strategies focuses on particular practices and skills needed for
pastoral and clinical encounters. Part of the role of supervision is to help
others (including myself) reflect systematically on the kinds of practices that
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enhance a client’s or parishioner’s experience of pastoral care. There are
multiple skills to be honed in a responsive-active listening-hearing model.28
Included in these are such things as building the capacities for theological reflection and construction, relational skills, the integration of psychotherapy and theological anthropology, analysis of social construction and
bio-psycho-logics, and more. Facilitating reflection on the small and important ways that meaning is constructed contextually through specific acts of
care becomes an important practice in supervision. Drawing upon reflecting
teams, peer observations, theological and theoretical reading assignments
and conversations, group reflections, experiences and reflections on those
experiences, and other strategies assist in the development of skills.
Self-awareness and Commitment to Ongoing Growth
A fourth set of strategies in supervision are those that promote ongoing selfreflection and encourage life-long supervision and learning. The more that
pastoral caregivers know their own narratives and have a sense of the meanings they make about their lives, the more accessible and present they will
be to others with whom they offer care. While I am not interested in supervision that is really counseling in a different form, I am interested in assisting
students in identifying the things that arise from their own personal stories
and journeys that might get in the way of others, as well as the strengths that
arise from those narratives.
The art of pastoral care requires an integration of head and heart,
knowledge and skills, reflection and doing that invites one to be authentic
and honest. Peer and group supervision invite people into conversations
and discourses that encourage honesty and compassion in ways that are
important for growth as pastors and caregivers.29 Supervision that is collaborative and generative will pay attention to opportunities that invite everyone (including the supervisor) into a fuller sense of their own narrative
and a fuller sense of making meaning out of their own lives. Additionally,
the group component of our supervisory process continues to be important
as supervisees receive feedback from one another, engage in conversations
that are rich, and find communities of colleagues that support their ongoing work.
Conclusion
Supervision for pastoral counselors is distinct in its content, but not in the
commitments that one might bring to any supervisory process. Living a col-
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laborative life as a supervisor in any context invites us to draw upon the
intentional wisdom of colleagues and peers, supervisee and others, and to
engage in new learning and language. Collaborative generativity recognizes
that supervision is a dynamic and life-enhancing process not only for the
supervisee, but for the supervisor. Reflecting critically on the what, who,
and how of supervision offers new insights into models that can assist in the
crafting of generative contributions for pastoral supervision.
NOTES
1.
A special word of thanks goes to the students and colleagues with whom I work.
Jason Hays, Genny Rowley, and John Thexton were participants in this particular
story. In preparation for this paper, they read and reviewed my account of the story
and offered insight and feedback into the paper. I am also indebted to colleagues at
Brite (Nancy Gorsuch, Christie Neuger, and Nancy Ramsay) and elsewhere who offered feedback for this paper (Duane Bidwell, Ruth Ann Clark, Evon Flesberg, Ardith
Hayes, Andy Lester, Ronald McDonald, and Han van den Blink).
2.
Although there are multiple definitions of post-modernity, I will draw specifically
upon the work of collaborative theorist, Harlene Anderson, who notes that postmodernity is defined by, “a family of concepts that have developed among scholars
within some social science and natural science disciplines that call for an ideological
critique—a questioning perspective—of the relevance and consequences of foundational knowledge, meta-narratives, and privileged discourses, including their certainty and power for our everyday lives.” Harlene Anderson, “A Postmodern Umbrella:
Language and Knowledge as Relational and Generative, and Inherently Transforming,” in Harlene Anderson and Diane Gehart, eds., Collaborative Therapy: Relationships
and Conversations that Make a Difference (New York: Routledge, 2007), 8. Anderson’s
post-modernity commitments include attention to multiple forms of knowledge including the valuing of “local knowledge,” an attention to the social construction of
language and meaning and to multi-authored narratives, as well as an awareness of
the importance of relationality and agency. Ibid., 7–19.
3.
Sally St. George and Dan Wulff, “Collaborating as a Lifestyle,” in Anderson and Gehart, eds, Collaborative Therapy, 406. St. George and Wulff note that the primary elements of collaborative work are: valuation (not evaluation), acting mannerly, attending to the little things, critical self-reflection (including less diagnostic labeling), community (building neighbors), creative actions on multiple levels (Ibid, 407–418).
4.
My concepts here are similar to those articulated by multiple pastoral theologians and
clinicians. See Pamela Cooper-White, “Thick Theory: Psychology, Theoretical Models,
and the Formation of Pastoral Counselors” in Duane R. Bidwell and Joretta L. Marshall, The Formation of Pastoral Counselors: Challenges and Opportunities (Binghamton,
NY: The Haworth Pastoral Press, 2006), 47–67; Carrie Doehring, The Practice of Pastoral
Care (Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press, 2006); Larry Kent Graham and
Jason C. Whitehead, “The Role of Pastoral Theology in Theological Education for the
Formation of Pastoral Counselors” in Bidwell and Marshall, The Formation of Pastoral
Counselors, 9–27; Christie Cozad Neuger, Counseling Women: A Narrative Pastoral Approach (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2001); and Loren Townsend, “Theological
164
Reflection and the Formation of Pastoral Counselors” in Bidwell and Marshall, The
Formation of Pastoral Counselors, 29–46.
5.
In teaching and learning theory, I find most helpful the work of Stephen D. Brookfield
and contributors from an edited volume by Mary Elizabeth Hess & Stephen D. Brookfield, eds., The Power of Critical Theory: Liberating Adult Learning and Teaching (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2005); Mary Elizabeth Hess, Engaging Technology in Theological Education: All That We Can’t Leave Behind (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2005); Mary Elizabeth Hess and Stephen D. Brookfield, eds., Teaching Reflectively
in Theological Contexts: Promises and Contradictions. (Malabar, FL: Krieger Publishing
Company, 2008).
6.
Brookfield, The Power of Critical Theory.
7.
Harlene Anderson and Diane Gehart, “Preface,” in Anderson and Gehart, eds., Collaborative Therapy, xvii–xiii.
8.
Val Wosket and Steve Page, “The Cyclical Model of Supervision: A Container for Creativity and Chaos,” in Michael Carroll and Margaret Tholstrup, eds., Integrative Approaches to Supervision (Philadelphia, PA: Jessica Kingsley Publishers, 2001), 20.
9.
Ibid., 13.
10. Harlene Anderson, “Dialogue: People Creating Meaning with Each Other and Finding Ways to Go On” in Anderson and Gehart, eds., Collaborative Therapy, 34.
11. Harlene Anderson, Collaborative Practices in Organization, Therapy, Education and Research Contexts. Paper presented at the Social Construction Relational Theory and
Transformative Practices Conference, Sarasota, FL, September 2008, 8.
12. Ibid., 15.
13. Harlene Anderson, “The Heart and Spirit of Collaborative Therapy: The Philosophical Stance—A ’Way of Being’ in Relationship and Conversation,” in Anderson and
Gehart, eds., Collaborative Therapy, 47.
14. Lynn Hoffman, “The Art of ‘Withness’: A New Bright Edge” in Anderson and Gehart,
eds., Collaborative Therapy, 69.
15. Vanja Orlans and Dagmar Edwards, “A Collaborative Model of Supervision,” in Carroll and Tholstrup, eds., Integrative Approaches to Supervision, 45.
16. Sylvia London and Irma Rodriguez-Jazcilevich, ”The Development of a Collaborative
Learning and Therapy Community in an Educational Setting: From Alienation to Invitation,” in Anderson and Gehart, eds., Collaborative Therapy:, 238.
17. Nancy Ramsay’s article on teaching and learning and difference is instructive as
she notes the various ways in which race and culture are present. Nancy J. Ramsay,
“Teaching Effectively in Racially and Culturally Diverse Classrooms,” Teaching Theology and Religion 8 (vol. 1): 18–23. See also the following article: Maxine Dennis, “An
Integrative Approach to ’Race’ and Culture in Supervision,” in Carroll and Tholstrup,
eds., Integrative Approaches to Supervision, 145–154.
18. Sheila McNamee, “Relational Practices in Education: Teaching as Conversation,” in
Anderson and Gehart, eds., Collaborative Therapy, 314.
MARSHALL
165
19. Sheila McNamee notes four resources for collaborative educational models: avoiding abstract positions, privileging narrative forms, fostering community, and blurring
the boundaries between classroom and “life.” The latter does not mean blurring the
boundaries between client and clinician, or supervisor and supervisee, but reflects
that collaborative teaching recognizes that what one “learns” in the classroom has an
impact not only on clinical work, but on life.
20. Martin Payne, Narrative Therapy: An Introduction for Counsellors, 2nd ed. (London: Sage
Publications, 2006), 174.
21. Anderson, Collaborative Practices in Organization, Therapy, Education and Research Contexts, 16.
22. Various reflecting processes are noted in Harlene Anderson and Per Jensen, eds., Innovations in the Reflecting Process (London: Karnac Books, 2007). My colleague, Christie Neuger and I have worked some with this approach with our student-clinicians as
well as with one another in supervisory consultation and supervision of supervision.
23. Anderson, “A Postmodern Umbrella,” 17.
24. Wosket and Page, “The Cyclical Model of Supervision: A Container for Creativity and
Chaos,” in Carroll and Tholstrup, eds., Integrative Approaches to Supervision, 18.
25. Gene Combs and Jill Freedman, Narrative Therapy: The Social Construction of Preferred
Realities (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 1996).
26. Anderson, “A Postmodern Umbrella,” 10.
27. Ibid., 11.
28. Anderson, “Dialogue,” 33–41.
29. Val Wosket and Steve Page identify stages of integration as: learning phase (starting training; imitation of experts; consolidation); the unlearning or integrating phase
(exploration; integration; individuation). Wosket and Page, “The Cyclical Model of
Supervision: A Container for Creativity and Chaos,” in Carroll and Tholstrup, eds.,
Integrative Approaches to Supervision, 20.
Theologically Reflective Practice:
A Key Tool for Contemporary Ministry
Neil Sims
The fast pace of modern ministry often leaves little time or space to plan or
assess strategies already in motion or stop long enough to consider the implications of our pastoral actions. These demands work against the thoughtful integration of context, theology, and practice in ministry. Karl Edwards
has described the fast pace of ministry today in this way:
We often find ourselves defaulting to a pragmatism that reflects neither our values nor our beliefs. Instead of being equipped with how to
do ministry, we need to be equipped with how to approach ministry...
We become reflective practitioners who can insightfully evaluate the issues of one’s ministry context, ask meaningful and probing questions of
the Bible and one’s theological tradition, and then continue to act, lead,
choose and do.1
New situations constantly present unique challenges to ministerial competence. Although theological schools cannot possibly train future ministers for
every conceivable situation, they can and must form them in theologically
reflective practice. This capacity for reflection is of growing importance given
the complexity of ministry in an increasingly pluralistic world. In this essay,
I intend to develop our understanding of theologically reflective practice by:
Neil Sims, Director of Studies in Ministry and Mission and Director of Field Education,
*Trinity Theological College, GPO Box 674, Brisbane, Queensland, Australia 4001 (Email:
Neil.Sims@ucaqld.com.au).
*Trinity Theological College is affiliated with Australian Catholic University.
Sims
167
• reviewing the classic work of Donald Schön who sees the professional as a
reflective practitioner,2
• building on this with the adult learning cycle of Donald Wolfe and David
Kolb,3 and
• enhancing this process for the practice of ministry by raising appropriate
theological questions for each stage of the learning cycle.
Schön emphasizes the importance of reflective practice and Wolfe and Kolb
offer a methodology for reflective practice. I will argue the significance of theologically reflective practice and provide a four-step process parallel to Kolb.
The Reflective Practitioner
Since Schön wrote about the reflective practitioner, this phrase has been
commonly adopted as a term to describe the way people ought to engage
in nursing, in education, and in ministry—in any profession—as life-long
learners. Mark Smith describes Schön’s approach as ‘canonical’ because of
the frequency with which it is appealed to by trainers in a variety of professional fields.”4 Schön begins with:
[T]he assumption that competent practitioners usually know more than
they can say. They exhibit a kind of knowing-in-practice, most of which is
tacit…Indeed practitioners themselves often reveal a capacity for reflection on their intuitive knowing in the midst of action and sometimes use
this capacity to cope with the unique, uncertain, and conflicted situations
of practice.5
The search for an “epistemology of practice implicit in the artistic, intuitive
processes which some practitioners do bring” to difficult and demanding
situations6 raises this question: “Is there a knowing that comes from our
practice?” When someone tells of the death of a loved one, do we simply
know how to respond? When a world crisis takes place, do we know almost without thinking how we will acknowledge that as part of worship?
Schön says that we draw on our repertoire. “Practitioners build up a collection of images, ideas, examples and actions that they can draw upon.”7 Have
we formed a bank of possible pastoral responses available when there is no
time to think? Herbert Anderson refers to this process as “forming a pastoral habitus so that our responses in ministry are like breathing.”8 Previous
ministry experiences contribute to a fund of knowing that informs our response without thinking too deeply. Our repertoire may enable us to engage
in knowing-in-action.
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Theologically Reflective Practice
Reflection-in-action is similar to what is popularly called “thinking on
our feet.”9 This is central to the ‘art’ by which in ministry we deal with “situations of uncertainty, instability, uniqueness, and value conflict.”10 We are
often confronted with unexpected situations in which we need to make a
judgment on the spot—with or without careful thinking. The internal conversation that develops in our reflection-in-action “extends thinking in the
tests, moves, and probes of experimental action, and reflection feeds on doing and its results.”11
Sometimes, when we look back on a pastoral encounter or a ministry
event, we are aware that there is room for improvement in the way we minister. We know we need to do more critical thinking about a particular issue
or doctrine, or we know we need to take stock of our behaviour or attitudes.
There is, therefore, a need for reflection-on-action after the event. This reflective practice is more intentional and sustained. For example, in my early
years in ministry, I thought about how I could make my preparation of parents for the baptism of their children more effective. This reflection-on-action
is a form of research which serves to build up one’s repertoire for ministry
practice.
Ideal reflection for ministers asks questions of their current practice in
order to inform and enhance their future ministry. This is called reflectionfor-action, or reflection that looks forward.12 Ministers who continue to practise this reflection for the sake of their future ministry enhance the quality of
their future service. Reflective practice for professionals includes knowingin-action, reflection-in-action, reflection-on-action, and reflection-for-action. Continuing practice of these processes is a prerequisite for our growth as professionals in ministry. However, there is a danger if we rely too heavily on our
knowing-in-action and we spend much time ministering on auto-pilot. It may
mean that we begin to treat all people the same and stop listening to the particular story of the particular person(s) before us.
A Ministry of Continual Learning
Unless we engage in reflective practice, we are in danger of repeating mistakes made earlier in our ministries. Without reflective practice we may
overlook the huge changes happening in the world around us and to our
ministry. The dilemma is that it may be easier for others to recognize that we
really stopped learning when we finished our theological studies. Without
careful reflection, ministry is in danger of losing its vitality.
Sims
169
When candidates for ministry within the Uniting Church in Queensland,
Australia go into field education placements for twelve months, they are expected to do more than fieldwork. They are expected to learn from practising ministry.13 It is education in context or in the ‘field.’ It is not about filling
gaps in the ministry of the local congregation but rather about filling gaps
in the student’s learning for their future practice. I take heart when students
write at the end of their field placement, “I believe I am now ready to take up
ministry.” I am a little dismayed when they may say to me later, “You didn’t
teach us about this at Trinity.” They then describe a new and unexpected situation that could not have been part of their training. What I hope they have
learned is the capacity to stop and think about a ministry situation in order
to respond constructively.
In order to develop this practice, we require them to write critically reflective reports on their ministry experiences. What did they do well? What
was difficult? Were there logistical issues? What surprised them? How did
the family receive their ministry? How did they sense that God was active
in this situation? Would they do anything differently the next time? “When
students experience reflective learning in fieldwork, they gain confidence
in responding to the unpredictable nature of practice.”14 Action and reflection together are the stuff of adult learning. This is the beginning of becoming a reflective practitioner. Emily Click argues that some of our most significant learning happens when we reflect. This kind of “contemplation is
crucial to effective professional functioning because it surfaces foundational
assumptions and interpretations.”15 The continuing discipline of theologically reflective practice equips us to face most, if not all, of the challenges of
ministry.
There was a time when ministers were trained and ordained, and that
training was expected to resource them for a lifetime of ministry. Now, as
with all other professions, there is a common expectation that ministers will
annually engage in professional development or continuing education for
ministry. In addition, a contributing factor to the continuing quality of one’s
ministry may be “regular professional supervision.”16 Both of these activities help foster reflective practice.
The Cycle of Adult Learning from Experience
Typically much adult learning is integrally related to life experience, and
often goes through a number of steps or phases unconsciously. It often starts
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THEOLOGICALLY REFLECTIVE PRACTICE
with a particular personal experience. Wolfe and Kolb have identified four
different learning modes, part of an experiential learning cycle that is a useful descriptive model of this kind of adult learning.17
Concrete experience
Active
Reflective
experimentation .......................................................observation
Abstract
Conceptualization
Figure. Wolfe and Kolb’s learning Cycle
Effective adult learning from experience requires that learners give full value to each of these four stages of learning. To fail to learn at any one of these
stages is a major obstacle to the whole learning experience.
When these stages are applied to ministry, the first stage is about learning to engage in ministry constructively. The second stage requires reflection
on, and analysis of, a ministry event. The third stage is about relating one’s
understanding of what happened to what one already knows—making
sense of the experience in terms of one’s personal worldview or theology.
Once the learning from this experience has been integrated into one’s theology and worldview, there are fresh implications for one’s decision-making
and further ministry. Most adult learning does not involve conscious movement systematically through the four stages. However, this combination of
action and reflection is a cyclical process that ultimately contributes to better
quality action and then even more mature reflection.
The following table gives some further definition to the four stages of
adult learning. The first three columns are from Kolb.18 I have added the last
column which provides a theological perspective.
SIMS
171
learning
Strategy
learning
environment
Primary
mode
Theological
Perspective
Concrete
Experience
Emphasizing
Personal
Experiences
Feeling or
Getting Involved
Sensing
the Presence and
Action of God
Reflective
Observation
Understanding
Concepts
Watching
Discerning
God’s Purpose
Abstract
Conceptualization
Preferred
Logical Thinking
Creating
Ideas
Integrating Into
One’s Theology
Active
Experimentation
Applying
Knowledge
and Skills
Making Decisions
and Doing
Deciding
to Co-Operate
with God
Table. Further Definition to the Four Stages of Adult learning
If we only use the language of learning from our society as the basis for our
reflection, then there is no space for the language of faith or theological reflection. However, when we are in ministry, to act with integrity is to use the
language of faith as a way of keeping open to God’s presence and activity.
Nouwen writes that:
[T]heological reflection is reflecting on the painful and joyful realities of
every day with the mind of Jesus and thereby raising human consciousness to the knowledge of God’s gentle guidance. This is a hard discipline, since God’s presence is often a hidden presence that needs to be
discovered.”19
If the primary language of our reflection is the language of education or psychology or management, we are in danger of shutting ourselves off from God.
Nouwen suggested (in 1989) that most Christian leaders raise psychological and sociological questions, and so are pseudo-psychologists and
pseudo-social workers or sociologists.20 Specifically theological reflection assists ministers in their openness to God and to God’s call on their lives. Click
puts it this way:
Ministerial reflection is the crucial key to all the work of ministry. For only
through careful consideration can you put together pieces that otherwise
seem disjointed, irrelevant, or confusing. Reflection enables you to weave
the integrative thread that you will then offer to the community as its
members weave the tapestry of God’s missional purpose in its midst.21
Consider a fictional case with these four stages. A young minister lost
his temper with the Secretary during a regular Church Council meeting
(concrete experience). The Secretary, a key leader in the congregation, told
him that several longstanding members were complaining about the intro-
172
duction of more contemporary songs into their main worship service. The
minister had reacted, “If you want to grow as a congregation, you need to
welcome some change in your congregational life. I can’t minister here if
you are not ready for change.” There was an awkward and tense silence
in the room when the meeting ended. On his way home, the young minister wondered how it got that bad so quickly. He went over and over the
event in his mind, examining his attitudes and those of the Secretary. He remembered reading that changing congregational culture is a slow process.
He rang his more senior colleague who was unable to attend that specific
meeting but was able to give him a more objective perspective (reflective
observation). Then he went back to his notes on conflict resolution. He also
prayerfully studied the concept of reconciliation in the New Testament (abstract conceptualisation). He realized that he needed to apologize, not so
much for what he said, but how he said it, and he needed to do it promptly,
face-to-face. Finally, he also determined to name what issues were important
for him and to invite the Secretary to explain what was critical to him and
how he felt (active experimentation).
Theologically Reflective Ministry
If we follow Kolb’s experiential learning cycle regularly (including using the
theological perspectives in the fourth column) in order to increase our effectiveness in ministry, then I suggest that our reflective practice will include
all the following stages:
• Sensing the presence and action of God: In a ministry situation we will be seeking to discern where God is present and how God is acting. This will require
a certain humility and attentiveness on our part.
• Discerning God’s purpose: In standing back from the situation, we will be reflecting on God’s desires for the person(s) with whom we are ministering as
well as God’s hopes for the way we are ministering. Perhaps there will be
some new conclusions about the nature and purpose of God.
•Integrating into one’s theology: As we consider our experience of God’s presence
and action and discern God’s purpose, we ask if this is consistent with the current practice of our faith and ministry. This may not be a simple task and may
take a long time to move towards a resolution. We may live with some ambiguity for some time, yet knowing where the tensions are within our theology.
• Deciding to co-operate with God: Our theology may have been revised somewhat and so lead to new implications for our ministry practice. Whether this
is the case or not, our attentiveness to the presence and action of God in a
particular ministry situation and our reflection on God’s purposes will give
SIMS
173
us some clues about our continuing ministry practice and ultimately lead to
some decisions for future ministry encounters.
Let’s return to our young minister in his conflict with the Secretary of
the congregation and apply the four theological perspectives to his situation.
Sensing the Presence and Action of God
By the time the young minister and his experienced colleague came together
for their weekly planning meeting, the following picture had emerged from
their informal conversations with some of the members of Church Council.
A more spiritually-minded councillor felt that they had left God behind once
they had completed the opening devotions and got on with the business of the
meeting. Another shared what she sensed was pain on God’s part over the conflict. A third member agreed with what the young minister said in his outburst
and wondered if the Secretary would have been better to give this feedback to
the minister privately. The Secretary, in a conversation with the senior minister, insisted on the lack of wisdom in the way the young minister responded;
he apparently didn’t like being challenged. Two more experienced councillors
saw this as part of the normal settling into ministry of a new minister and trusted that God would help them negotiate their differences in due course.
Discerning God’s Purpose
The young minister came home from the meeting wondering whether this
was God’s way of telling him that he shouldn’t have become a minister. He
was relieved to learn from his colleague that other members of the Church
Council also got irritated with the Secretary. The colleague went on to say,
“When we pull together as a team, the Secretary is a great asset, and he will
get over your outburst.” The young minister sensed God reminding him that
he was too quick to want his own way. He felt the discomfort of being ‘at odds’
with the Secretary and thought more deeply about how he could work in partnership with the Secretary and all of the Church Council. Ministry was not just
what he was and did, but also about the worship, witness, and service of the
whole congregation. The incident reminded him that he needed to take better
care of himself. If he hadn’t been so stressed, maybe he wouldn’t have lost his
temper. In his prayer, he resolved to listen more to the leaders of the congregation so he would work better with them, and to respect his day off each week.
Integrating into One’s Theology
The initial response of the young minister was that he had misunderstood
God’s call to him. On further reflection, he concluded that it was not a reason to doubt God’s call. When he blurted out his ideas about how the con-
174
gregation should function, God reminded him through his colleague of the
importance of belonging to the Christian community alongside bringing
one’s own perspective. He did not regret what he said, because he genuinely believed it, but he did regret how he said it. There were going to be
more awkward and tense moments in Church Council and the challenge
would be to work through them with grace, sensitivity, and honesty. Living
together as Christ’s disciples would be a continual learning process. God
gently confronted him with the place of proper self-care within one’s calling
to discipleship. These were convictions that he already had given intellectual assent to, but now he knew that he needed to live these out for the sake
of the health of the congregation, and his own health.
Deciding to Co-operate with God
The young minister knew that his attitude in raising his voice at the Secretary was unacceptable. He knew, consistent with God’s call to live in community, that he had to go promptly and apologize, face-to-face, taking full
responsibility for his actions. He knew that living in community did not
mean agreeing on everything, but being honest about differences. It was as
important to listen to the Secretary’s perspective as it was for him to name
his own. Careful listening to God and others was to become something he
worked on to foster Christian community. He would also trust his colleague
to guide him in working with the leaders of the congregation and to keep
him accountable with his self-care.
Conclusions
If we regularly engage in this kind of reflective practice, we will find that our
learning is deep, which is qualitatively different from much surface learning.
Michael Prosser and Keith Trigwell describe this deep learning for students
in this way:
In a deep approach, students aim to understand ideas and seek meanings. They engage with the learning task, trying to relate new things to
other things that they know. In a surface approach, students see tasks as
being imposed on them and they have the intention to cope with these
requirements. Overall they would appear to be involved in study without
reflection on either purpose or strategy. The structure of the awareness of
students adopting a deep approach is broader and more inclusive than for
students adopting a surface approach.22
This kind of learning in the context of our faith is holistic, engaging our
whole being. It is not purely individual learning, but also relational learn-
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175
ing. It is about the gaining of information, growing in understanding, moving towards coherence in our theological foundation, developing skills and
competencies, shaping our attitudes, clarifying our values and beliefs, and
acknowledging our abilities and limits.
Quality ministry is much more likely when it includes theologically reflective practice. The action/practice and theological reflection go hand-inhand and complement each other. Our repertoire in ministry starts with
some basic knowing-in-action from our initial formation processes, as well
as our previous experiences in the church. Reflection-in-action, reflection-onaction, and reflection-for action will each expand our repertoire of knowing-inaction. So Schön offers practical wisdom about being reflective practitioners.
But how do we engage in that reflection-on-action and reflection-for-action?
Kolb’s experiential learning cycle offers a useful method for the reflective practitioner. However, for ministers and their integrity, this reflection must be
done through a theological lens. Sensing the presence and action of God, discerning God’s purpose, integrating these into one’s theology, and deciding to co-operate
with God are four clear steps for theologically reflective practice.
This pattern of reflection is a way of building “muscles for a lifetime of
interpreting situations;”23 to borrow an image from Emily Click. When we
are confronted by complex challenges, or if we are losing our vitality in ministry, or if we are failing to negotiate the stresses of the role, the kind of theological reflection I am advocating will certainly help. It enhances our capacity to function outside our comfort with confidence that we have something
to offer to those in need. If we are currently negotiating with hope this demanding calling, it is probable that our ministry could already be described
as theologically reflective practice.
NOTES
1.
Karl Edwards, “Looking Ahead to the Next Challenge,” The Front Line (Pasadena, CA:
Fuller Theological Seminary Doctor of Ministry Program newsletter, June 2003), 6.
2.
Donald A. Schön, The Reflective Practitioner: How Professionals Think in Action (New
York: Basic Books, 1983) and Donald A. Schön, Educating the Reflective Practitioner (San
Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass, 1987).
3.
Donald M. Wolfe and David A. Kolb, “Career Development, Personal Growth, and
Experiential Learning,” in Issues in Career and Human Resource Development (Madison,
WI: American Society for Training and Development, 1980), 128.
4.
Mark K. Smith, “Donald Schön: Learning, Reflection and Change,” The Encyclopaedia of Informal Education, 2001, available online at: http://www.infed.org/thinkers/
et-schon.htm (Last accessed June 29, 2010).
176
5.
Schön, The Reflective Practitioner, viii–ix.
6.
Ibid., 49.
7.
Smith, “Donald Schön;” Ibid., 138.
8.
Herbert Anderson, personal communication, December 21, 2010.
9.
Schön, The Reflective Practitioner, 54.
10. Ibid., 50.
11. Ibid., 280.
12. Lynn McAlpine and Cynthia Weston, “Reflection: Issues Related to Improving
Professors’ Teaching and Students’ Learning,” Instructional Science 28, nos. 5–6 (2002):
363–385.
13. Trinity Theological College, Field Education Handbook 2010, available online at: http://
www.trinity.qld.edu.au/data/fieldEd%20handbook_master.pdf (Last accessed July 5,
2010).
14. Gwen Ellis, “Reflective Learning and Supervision,” in Fieldwork in the Human Services:
Theory and Practice for Field Educators, Practice Teachers and Supervisors, Lesley Cooper
and Lynne Briggs, eds. (St. Leonards, NSW, Australia: Allen and Unwin, 2000), 227.
15. Emily Click, “Ministerial Reflection,” in Welcome to Theological Field Education, Matt
Floding, ed. (Herndon, VA: Alban, 2011), 36, 32.
16. This is required within the Uniting Church in Australia: Uniting Church in Australia,
“Code of Ethics and Ministry Practice,” 2009, 3.9 (d).
17. Wolfe and Kolb, “Career Development, Personal Growth, and Experiential Learning,”
128.
18. David Kolb, Experiential Learning as the Source of Learning and Development (Englewood
Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1984). The primary modes and theological perspectives have
been added to Kolb, the latter by the author while the source of the modes is unknown.
19. Henri Nouwen, In the Name of Jesus (London, UK: Darton, Longman and Todd, 1989),
68–69.
20. Ibid., 65–66.
21. Click, “Ministerial Reflection,” 32.
22. Michael Prosser and Keith Trigwell, Understanding Learning and Teaching: The Experience
in Higher Education (Buckingham, UK: SRHE and Open University Press, 1999), 14.
23
Click, “Ministerial Reflection,” 36.
Ministry Experiences of First-Career Seminarians:
In the Middle of a Life World
Timothy D. Lincoln
Theological educators are aware that students enter seminary with distinctive life experiences. Many enter seminary after age 30; others are younger
and begin theological studies more or less directly after finishing a bachelor’s degree. It has long been recognized that field education has significant
effects on seminarians of any age, such as assisting students in vocational
discernment.1 Less has been reported on how field education fits with the
rest of a student’s lived experience while in school, because data about field
education are often reported as tallies of forced-choice items on a survey.2
Increased understanding of how students conceptualize their field education experiences within their life worlds will benefit those who supervise
students directly, as well as other faculty members and the churches that call
or appoint graduates to ministry positions.
This article3 reports on how first-career seminarians at one school understood their ministry experiences. The data are taken from a phenomenological study at a mainline Protestant seminary, New Creation Theological
Seminary (NCTS).4 After briefly discussing the concept of life world, I present
a graphical representation of a typical first-career student’s life world. I then
interpret the mindmap using ecological theory and the concept of emerging
Timothy D. Lincoln, BA, MDiv, MS, PhD, Associate Dean for Seminary Assessment, Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary, 100 East 27th St., Austin, TX 78705-5797 (Email:
tlincoln@austinseminary.edu).
178
Ministry experiences of first-career seminarians
adulthood, drawing attention to the complex relationships that respondents
reported between ministry experiences and other aspects of their lives as students. Finally, I suggest how these findings might influence the work of those
responsible for field education in seminaries.
What is a Life World?
The concept of a life world comes from phenomenology as practiced in the
social sciences. Life world “refers to the commonsense interpretive frames
and logic by which individuals prereflectively conceptually organize their
perceptions of everyday life.”5 A life world is the way that things appear to
an individual, as shaped by cultural and social forces. For some, the passing
of a comet is an interesting astronomical event explained exhaustively by the
laws of physics. For others, the passing of the same comet may be fraught
with religious significance. Closely associated with the concept of life world
is its correlate, lived experience.6 Lived experience is the way things are for
me but may not be for you, even though you and I root for Texas Tech, both
consistently vote for Republicans, and belong to the same church. Two students in a seminary lecture hall may hear a talk on Karl Barth. For one the
hour drags; for the other, the hour flies by. The same event spawns distinctive
lived experiences for different individuals. Cultures and microcultures give
birth to diverse life worlds. Ethnographies of seminary students show that
theological schools shape distinct life worlds for their students, encouraging
them to take on new identities and theological commitments.7
In the NCTS study, the life worlds of first- and second-career students
were studied using interactive qualitative analysis (IQA).8 In IQA, elements
of the phenomenon being studied are discovered by a combination of group
and individual interviews. Participants identify key themes and—crucially—relationships of influence between themes. The results of an IQA study
include examples of discourse about themes (reports of lived experience)
and a mindmap, a graphical depiction of the relationships between themes
as experienced by a typical study participant.9 In the research reported here,
seminarians were asked to speak about their experience of being students at
NCTS. Thus, the resulting mindmap describes the life world of students. Another element in IQA is the researcher’s assessment of the dominant timbre
for each theme discovered. Timbre is a way of characterizing the discourse
of participants in this study. IQA, like other qualitative research, strives to
discover the full range of viewpoints, experiences, or moods of participants
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179
in this study. Judgments about timbre parallel a wine connoisseur’s observations about a given sample of wine (dry versus sweet, flavor notes, etc.).
The Life World of First-Career Seminarians
In the NCTS study, first-career participants were enrolled in the Masters of
Divinity (MDiv) program. Each had begun seminary study when less than
30-years-old and had completed at least one-third of the credits needed for
the degree. I selected age 30 as the cutoff point because previous studies of
“younger” and “older” theological students had used this age as the line
of demarcation between first- and second-career students.10 Using focus
groups, the researcher discovered 12 key themes of student experience. IQA
procedures give rules for the naming of themes. For instance, rather than
having two or more themes about emotions (e.g., positive emotions and
negative emotions), a single theme is used. Table 1 reports the themes and
their definitions. Eight first-career students and nine second-career were interviewed individually for approximately 90 minutes about the 12 themes.
They spoke about their experience of the themes and then told the researcher about how themes exerted influence on other themes. For example, in
response to the theme Ministry influenced Transformation, students said:
“Doing Clinical Pastoral Education, suddenly you’re given this ministry,
and you have to transform yourself into a minister. When you are in there
really doing ministry, sometimes you learn what you didn’t expect, and that
can have transformative properties.”11
Analyzing interviews, I found subthemes for each of the twelve key
themes. For instance, the theme of Ministry had five subthemes: (1) the importance of fit between a student and her ministry setting, (2) the variety of
ministry tasks that students took part in, (3) the importance of experiential
or hands-on learning, (4) how ministry experiences clarified an individual’s
call to ministry, and (5) new discoveries that students made about themselves. Both first- and second-career students spoke about these subthemes.
Both first- and second-career students were generally positive about their
experience of ministry while students.
MINISTRY EXPERIENCES OF FIRST-CAREER SEMINARIANS
180
Theme
Definition
Community
The relationships that NCTS students have with other
NCTS students
Emotions
The feelings of students in school
Spirituality
The quest to sense the presence of God
Life management
A student’s life beyond NCTS
Academic program
The curriculum taught at NCTS
School bureaucracy
The official administrative procedures associated w/school
Call to ministry
One’s perception that God is leading them to a particular
form of Christian service
Transformation
Changes that students may undergo while in seminary
Facilities
The spaces and physical resources provided by NCTS
Faculty and staff
NCTS professors, administrators, and other employees
Church requirements
Processes and expectations that church bodies have for
those seeking ordination
Ministry
Pastoral work that seminarians do in congregations and
hospitals, including Clinical Pastoral Education and Ministry Practicum
Table 1. Definitions of Themes, new Creation Theological Seminary Study
In interviews, first-career students reported that Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) and another hospital-based course were valuable, in part, because they allowed them to deal directly with patients:
It was like tossing you in the fire to see if you survive. After orientation,
the next day I had my first referral to a schizophrenic who believed that
Satan was after him. You can’t teach from a book. You have to experience
it. I took the hospital chaplaincy course. It was a blessing from God. You
had orientation, and they told you to go and do your thing. That’s how
you learn.
Students also reported learning things that they had not imagined that
they would learn:
I learned in my Ministry Practicum that a lot of ministry is behind the
scenes, like folding the bulletins and planning. You do a lot in the office
and in the evening in people’s houses. If you only see the public view of
the pastors, you don’t see the late nights working on sermons because you
did four pastoral care conferences during the day. That’s a new discovery
for me.
My CPE in Mountain City wasn’t exactly what I expected. I was expecting
hard-core blood and guts. Instead, I was in the emergency room where
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181
they treat the baby who has strep throat. You had to go find ministry in
the wards with patients who weren’t in the emergency room.
Participants reported that the work done by the director of the Ministry Practicum was valuable because he thoughtfully matched students and
supervisors. First-year seminarians said:
My practicum was fabulous. The director was guiding me. He made
phone calls to get a placement for me. This summer was the best in my 24
years of life. He really cares about the practicum. He gets to know you before you discuss placements. It’s important to be matched with the right
supervisor.
Students frequently said that the benefit of a given ministry assignment depended on the quality of the relationship between the student and
her supervisor. Students said:
A bad supervisor can kill your internship and close down your feeling of
call. I was placed at a wonderful congregation with a great pastor to learn
from, a great leader. I tried to pick his brain.
I did my Ministry Practicum for ten weeks in West Hamlet. I chose it because it was a new development and because it had a female pastor. I
wanted to see what life was like as a female pastor.
In addition to analyzing the discourse of participants for themes and
subthemes, I conducted an analysis of the dominant timbre of each of the
twelve themes. The dominant timbre for first-career students for the theme
Life Management (life outside of school) was positive to neutral. However,
the dominant timbre voiced by second-career students was negative. This
result did not neatly track as a difference between students with young children and students without children. As another example, the dominant timbre for first-career students for the theme Emotions was volatile. Students
reported that their emotional state varied enormously depending on which
part of the academic term they were in. By contrast, the dominant timbre for
this theme for second-career students was negative.
By aggregating participant responses about the relationships between
themes, and following IQA procedures for building group mindmaps, I
derived the mindmap depicted in Figure 1. The figure depicts how a typical first-career seminarian in this study understood her life world. An IQA
mindmap is conceptually a closed system of influences. The arrows depict
the flow of influence between themes. All social science models tell stories
that emphasize some things and hide others. Figure 1 shows a simplified
version of the flows of relationship (shown by arrows) between themes. In
reality, participants reported that School Bureaucracy exerted influence on
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virtually every other theme. IQA procedures remove most arrows, leaving a
topographically compact figure. The justification for this procedure is to create mindmaps that have explanatory power by focusing on the overall patterns of relationships between elements in the system.
In this mindmap, School Bureaucracy and Church Requirements are
drivers. Participants in this study distinguished between the expectations of
church bodies and what NCTS expected from students. Both of these themes
influenced many other elements or themes in the system. At the other end of
the system (the lower right section of the figure), Call to Ministry, Life Management, Emotions, and Transformations form a cluster of outcomes. That is,
many elements in the system exert influence on them, but they exert relatively
little influence on other elements. As understood in IQA, outcomes are not less
important than other themes. Outcomes are simply elements that find their
relative position due to the influence of most other elements in the system.
In this mindmap, for instance, one of the outcomes was Transformation. Students reported that the seminary experience changed them, often significantly.
Students learned new theological knowledge, acquired pastoral skills, and often focused their call to ministry because of being in school. These are the sorts
of important changes that theological educators want students to experience.12
The Figure 1 mindmap contains several elements of recursion, or feedback, between parts of the system. For instance, Spirituality is influenced by
many elements including Academic Program. But Spirituality also exerts influence on Church Requirements, a driver in the system, as well as influencing Ministry. Understood as a system, the mindmap shows the complexity of
relationships experienced by typical first-career students in their life worlds.
For purposes of this discussion, I want to call attention to the location
of the theme Ministry in the mindmap. Ministry sits roughly in the middle
of the system. Seven themes exert influence on Ministry, including Academic
Program. However, students reported that Ministry was a hub of influence
towards both the driver side and the outcome side of the system. Ministry exerted influence on relationships with other students (Community), but also
exerted influence on the driver, School Bureaucracy.
Ministry in the Middle of the Life World
As depicted in Figure 1, the theme Ministry sits in the middle of the life world
of first-career seminarians. It receives influence from drivers (e.g., Church Requirements) and exerts influence both forwards and backwards in the system.
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LINCOLN
School
bureaucracy
Church
Requirements
Faculty
& Staff
Facilities
Figure 1. mindmap, First-Career Seminarians
Academic
Program
Spirituality
ministry
Community
life
management
Call to
ministry
emotions
Transformation
184
Ministry is involved in two loops in the mindmap. The first loop consists of
Ministry/Community/Spirituality. These three themes exert influence upon
one another. It is difficult to determine which element has “the most” influence, because they form a loop. This loop suggests a close connection, in the
minds of students, between their personal quest for God (Spirituality), their
diverse leanings in ministry activities (Ministry), and their relationships with
other students (Community). First-career students generally reported that the
NCTS community was caring and supportive. They also reported that their
experiences of Spirituality were neutral or positive. Both first- and secondcareer students noted that time constrained their participation in worship and
individual devotions. One first-career student said: “Spirituality is easy to let
slide while you’re in seminary. Sometimes I’ve been so focused on studying
or getting papers in on time that I haven’t spent time with God, or praying, or
reading scripture. That’s something that I’m constantly working on.”
At the same time, the theme Ministry is part of a second loop consisting
of Ministry/Call to Ministry/Community. Again, because this trio of themes
forms a loop, it is difficult to argue that one is more influential than the others. This loop highlights the close relationship between ministry experiences,
student relationships, and an individual’s ongoing sense of vocational identity. Students reported that Call to Ministry was a work-in-progress throughout their seminary education. For instance, one student reported:
Your call changes when you’re here. You come in thinking, ‘In three years.
I’m going to be a solo pastor.’ In my CPE this summer I did a lot of discernment. I worked with psychiatric patients and loved it. I believe I’m
being called to hospital chaplaincy. My call changed because of doing
CPE. So, I’m still discerning, always discerning.
As depicted in Figure 1, the mindmap suggests that ministry experiences sit in the middle of the life worlds of first-career seminarians, both
shaping and being shaped by other themes.
The location of Ministry was different in the mindmap for second-career students (Figure 2). The theme of Ministry was an outcome in the mindmap of second-career students. The theme forms a four-part loop along with
Life Management, Transformation, and Emotions. The location of Ministry in
the second-career mindmap suggests that, compared to first-career students,
more themes exerted influence on student understanding of ministry experiences. The mindmap for second-career students has fewer elements of recursion than the mindmap for first-career students. There are no lines of feedback
from elements in the middle of the system referring back to drivers, as was the
185
LINCOLN
School
bureaucracy
Church
Requirements
Faculty
& Staff
Facilities
Figure 2. mindmap, Second-Career Seminarians
Spirituality
Call to
ministry
Academic
Program
life
management
ministry
emotions
Community
Transformation
186
case in the first-career mindmap. This difference suggests that the processing
of experience going on in the minds of first-career students is more complex
and dynamic than for second-career students. In phenomenological terms,
such processing entails an analytical move that supersedes the natural attitude
and pregivenness of the life world. Processing experience through the use of
a Christian imagination is another way of describing theological reflection.13
Why should this processing be more complex for first-career students
than for second-career students? I think that ecological theory and Arnett’s
research on emerging adulthood help to interpret this finding. To be clear, I
am not arguing that second-career students do not seek to make sense of their
life worlds, nor am I arguing that first-career students are “better” at making sense than their older classmates. Nevertheless, the mindmaps for each
group do not have the same flow of relationships. So, one intriguing question
is how to account for the two different configurations of relationships that I
discovered.
Interpreting Ministry in the First-Career Life World
Bronfenbrenner put forward an ecological model of the life course that emphasized how the social environment shaped an individual. He envisioned
five systems that surround individuals:
1. An individual’s immediate environment is a set of microsystems such as family, friends, and colleagues at work.
2. Microsystems interact to form an individual’s mesosystem, “the interrelations
among major settings containing the developing person at a particular point
in his or her life.”14 Thus, a mesosystem is a way of thinking about the interactions that take place in the life of a child, who relates simultaneously
to members of his immediate family, other children at school, and neighbors. Adults may live in a mesosystem containing such microsystems as the
workplace, a congregation, and the home. The analytic point is that these
microsystems exert various kinds of influence upon an individual, and the
interactions need to be given serious attention.15
3. The third level of analysis is the exosystem. The social structures in the exosystem influence an individual but are not part of her immediate context.
Examples include government agencies and the Internet. Although many
people get through their days without thinking about the effects of tax law
or how email is delivered, the exosystem comprised of these factors (and
many others) profoundly shapes individuals.
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4. Bronfenbrenner’s fourth level of analysis is the macrosystem. Macrosystems
are cultural prototypes, “the overarching institutional patterns of the culture
or subculture”16 that convey information, custom, and ideology.
5. The final level of analysis takes into account the ebb and flow of time.
Attention to chronosystems highlight “the impact of prior life events and experiences, singly or sequentially, on subsequent development.”17 For example,
the death of a parent may profoundly affect a child for the rest of her life.
Ecological theory suggests that both first- and second-career students
are broadly shaped by similar exosystems and macrosystems. Participants
in this study were also shaped profoundly by the NCTS microculture, and
individuals came to seminary with diverse backgrounds. However, younger
students had not been shaped by as many previous life experiences as older
students. In the NCTS study, they were less distressed by the demands of
seminary than the second-career students. First-career students spoke eloquently about the need to be open to new experiences and ideas in seminary:
Seminary is a time for you to grow and transform as an individual, to
learn what works for you and what doesn’t work. When you give it a
chance, there is a difference.
First-career students also were more comfortable than second-career students with the fact that engagement in seminary and relationships with other students ate up most of their time. As one student put it:
It’s not that I don’t get off campus. We do stuff in the city. We don’t just
study all day long, but relationally speaking, I don’t have a life outside of
the seminary.
It may be the case that relative lack of life experience combined with
immersion in the seminary microculture pushes first-career students to
work harder than older students to integrate the wealth of new experiences
they undergo in seminary, including experiences in ministry. Exploration of
this claim would require further research.
A similar conclusion results when the position of the theme Ministry in the middle of the life world is viewed through the lens of emerging
adulthood. Arnett18 describes the period between ages 18 and 30 in many
developed countries as an unprecedented time of emerging adulthood. During these years, he argues, emerging adults explore jobs, relationships, and
identities through repeated improvisation. If first-career seminary students
are commonly in the midst of such improvisations, then it also makes sense
that they are actively thinking about the meaning of lived experience rather than simply piling one experience on another. Most participants in this
study reported undergoing profound changes at seminary. These changed
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perceptions are the result of reflection on experience. To point to one example, students frequently reported that they encountered historical-critical approaches to the Bible for the first time at seminary. Students had to make
sense of new ways of reading scripture. Not everyone claimed that seminary
changed them. One first-career participant stated that he had managed to attend seminary while retaining virtually all of his pre-seminary ideas about
God and ministry intact:
I got new information, but in regard to spiritual transformation or transformation in character, none of that came through the academic program.
I’m just reading, writing essays, and taking tests.
According to Arnett, emerging adults want to become more mature
in thought and action. The mindmap showing active relationships between
Ministry and other themes of student experience, I think, shows emerging
adults at work. The flows of influence to and from this theme suggest that
students find ministry experiences important enough to reshape how they
experience School Bureaucracy (the line of recursion back to the driver side
of the system) as well as influencing discussions of what it means to sense
God’s presence (the Ministry/Community/Spirituality loop), what it means
to have relationships with other students (the Ministry/Community/Spirituality loop and the Ministry/Community/Call to Ministry loop) and how
they perceive their specific call to Christian service. Put in terms of a constructionist view of knowledge, students actively make meaningful sense out
of their experiences in seminary. One second-career student said, for instance:
My fall and spring courses were well combined, one thing led to another
and made sense. That happened to me every semester [my italics].
The student constructed meaning out of the suite of courses that she
took each term. Meaning is not a silver dollar lying in plain sight by the side
of the road.19
Implications for Theological Educators
This article has reported on the way that first-career students at one mainline seminary experienced ministry as part of their lives as students. I have
argued that the place of ministry in their life worlds differs from its place in
the life worlds of second-career students, in part, because students have had
fewer life experiences and were more thoroughly socialized into the student
microculture of their seminary.
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I conclude with a brief discussion of three implications of this study
for theological educators. First, I doubt that any reader of these pages has
been surprised that students report that ministry experiences are important
to seminarians. My findings are consistent with data from the Graduating Student Questionnaire (GSQ) report. The GSQ is a standard instrument administered by the Association of Theological Schools (ATS) and widely used by
seminaries. In the 2008–2009 report (based on more than 5,000 graduates from
148 schools), 79 percent of respondents stated that required field education or
an internship was either important or very important.20 However, the same
report also asks students about the three most important influences on their
educational experience. The highest scoring category was faculty (chosen by
22.2 percent). The second most frequently chosen category was interactions
with fellow students (9.6 percent). Field education/internship was chosen by
6.6 percent, and experiences in ministry by 6.2 percent.21
It is possible to read the GSQ data and conclude (wrongly, in my
view), that what faculty do is about twice as important as other parts of
the process of theological education. From the perspective of the student
life world, all of the parts of the seminary experience fit into a dynamic system. Students in seminary are changed through a complex process that involves new information, experiential learning, and skill development. The
findings of this study support Eisner’s view that students learn both from
the explicit curriculum documented in catalogues, syllabi, and lectures and
from the implicit curriculum of unspoken expectations and unplanned experience.22 Quantitative data alone do not do justice to the complexity of
lived student experience. Theological educators would do well to keep in
mind the primary goal of MDiv education, which is training for ministry. Training for ministry—according to seminarians—is not so much a linear process of learning basic knowledge and then moving on to more advanced knowledge as it is an iterative web of sense-making. Students bring
ministry experiences into the classroom, just as they take new ideas from
the classroom to their ministries in the hospital ward, the pulpit, or Sunday
school.23 To put it another way, the experience of theological education is
less like a car chassis moving along an assembly line than it is like being a
novice musician contributing her own interpretations as part of a jazz ensemble. Over time, she becomes more polished in playing.
A second implication of the results of this study relates to the value that
first-career students placed on experiential learning in their formation as apprentice pastors. Participants spoke glowingly of the transformation that they
190
underwent through require field placement, Clinical Pastoral Education (not
a required part of the NCTS program, but often expected by denominational
oversight committees), and optional year-long internships in congregations.
Theological schools who wish to train competent ministers need to continue
to provide for high quality experiential learning, even in a time when fiscal
constraints might be pushing school leaders to consider ways to shorten degree programs or opt for hybrid-programs that combine online and classroom
learning.24 If the purpose of theological education is to form skillful practitioners, it would be false economy to trim experiential learning out of the
curriculum.
A third implication for theological educators relates to the differences in
the mindmaps between first- and second-career students. I have argued that
the mindmap for first-career students has more elements of recursion because
younger students have had fewer life experiences than older students and
that they are, relatively speaking, more actively involved in trying to make
sense of what is happening to them in seminary. If my analysis is correct,
then theological educators would do well to provide robust mentoring and
advising to first-career students. Specifically, first-career students need structured opportunities to talk about the meaning of their ministry experiences
to complement the informal conversations that they have with their peers. In
the NCTS study, participants did not speak in any length about how faculty
members (other than the director of field education) assisted them in active reflection on ministry experiences. The ATS’ Profiles of Ministry assessment tool
may usefully assist educators in speaking about ministry experiences with
students.25
Conclusion
Richard Osmer relates how he was caught flat-footed as a young pastor
when the church treasurer announced that she was quitting and would not
be talked out of it. “I wish that at least one class in my theological education had given me the knowledge and skills to make sense of what I was
experiencing. I realize, in ministry, experience is one of our most important
teachers.”26 His feelings of bafflement are part of the cycle of learning that
seminarians and ministers undergo on the road from novice to skilled practitioner. According to the study reported here, seminarians begin making
sense of ministry experiences while in seminary. Good theological schools
understand the complexity involved in student experience, and find ways to
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191
help students integrate the academic program, relationships with students,
life outside of school, and ministry experiences.
NOTES
1.
Students consistently report that field education/internship was an important influence on their educational experience. Francis A. Lonsway, The Graduating Student
Questionnaire: A Study of Five Years of Use, 1996–97 through 2000–01 (Pittsburgh, PA: Association of Theological Schools, 2002).
2.
The most wisely used instrument for capturing data about student perceptions of
graduate theological education is the Association of Theological Schools (ATS), Graduating Student Questionnaire (GSQ). Some scales in the GSQ ask students to pick three
responses from a set list.
3.
I wish to thank my colleague Dr. David W. Johnson, Director of Ministry Formation at
Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary, for allowing me to present a draft of this
paper to a class of MDiv students. Their critique sharpened my thinking about what
schools might do to assist students in reflecting on their ministry experiences.
4.
Timothy D. Lincoln, The Seminary Experience: Conceptual Worlds of First-Career and
Second-Career Seminarians (PhD dissertation, The University of Texas at Austin, 2009.
AAT 3372630).
5.
W. Fincher, “Lifeworld,” in Blackwell Encyclopedia of Sociology, G. Ritzer, ed. (Cambridge, UK: Blackwell Publishing, 2007)—retrieved from Blackwell Reference Online.
Ultimately, the concept of the life world goes back to Edmund Husserl, The Crisis of
European Sciences and Transcendental Phenomenology: An Introduction to Phenomenological Philosophy, David Carr, trans. from German 1954 ed. (Evanston, IL: Northwestern
University Press, 1970). Alfred Schutz, Husserl’s student, brought phenomenology to
the social sciences as an interpretive framework. See Alfred Schutz, The Phenomenology
of the Social World, George Walsh and Frederick Lehnert, trans. from 1932 German ed.
(Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1967).
6.
Schutz, ibid., 45–96, for an extended discussion of lived experience.
7.
Sherryl Kleinman, Equals Before God: Seminarians as Humanistic Professionals (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1984); and Jackson W. Carroll, Barbara G. Wheeler, Daniel O. Aleshire, and Penny Marler, Being There: Culture and Formation in Two Theological
Schools (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997).
8.
Norvell Northcutt and Danny McCoy, Interactive Qualitative Analysis: A Systems Method for Qualitative Research (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, 2004).
9.
Interactive Qualitative Analysis (IQA) is concerned with the shared meanings of microcultures and therefore emphasizes common themes in the group or groups studied. IQA procedures also can map one person’s flow of relationships in a mindmap.
10. For instance, see Ellis L. Larsen and James M. Shopshire, “A Profile of Contemporary
Seminarians,” Theological Education 24, no. 2 (Spring 1988): 10–136.
11. All quotations of participants in this study are taken from the interviews underlying
Lincoln, The Seminary Experience, 2009. Quotations are edited to reduce redundancy
and preserve sense.
192
12. For a model of theological education that focuses on such transformation, see Timothy D. Lincoln, “How Master of Divinity Education Changes Students: A ResearchBased Model.” Teaching Theology and Religion 13, no. 3 (2010): 208–222.
13. See John Patton, From Ministry to Theology: Pastoral Action & Reflection (Nashville, TN:
Abingdon Press, 1990).
14. Uri Bronfenbrenner. “Toward an Experimental Ecology of Human Development,”
American Psychologist 32, no. 7 (July 1977): 515.
15. Today there is widespread suspicion about theories that assert epigenetic development throughout a person’s life course. See, for instance, Donald Capps, Young Clergy:
A Biographical Developmental Study (New York: Haworth Pastoral Press, 2005), 235–
243. To put it another way, ecological theory makes it possible to understand how persons may become older but not wiser.
16. Bronfenbrenner, American Psychologist, 515.
17. Uri Bronfenbrenner, Making Human Beings Human: Bioecological Perspectives on Human
Development (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications, 2005), 83.
18. Jeffrey J. Arnett, Emerging Adulthood: The Winding Road from the Late Teens through the
Twenties (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2004).
19. On the constructionist viewpoint, see John Dewey, Experience and Education (New
York: Macmillan, 1938) or, more recently, Ference Marton and Shirley Booth, Learning
and Awareness (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 1997).
20. ATS, GSQ 2008–2009, Profile of Participants, Table 16. Available from www.ats.org. The
table documents some gender differences. Women chose “very important” 61 percent
of the time, while men chose “very important” 48.4 percent of the time.
21. Ibid., Table 15.
22. On the concepts of the explicit, implicit, and null curricula for a school, see Elliot W.
Eisner, The Educational Imagination: On the Design and Evaluation of School Programs, 3rd
ed. (Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 2001).
23. P. Alice Rogers and Robert Winstead argue that students who work as pastors while
in seminary are a gift to theological education. See P. Alice Rogers and Robert Winstead, “Pedagogical Lessons from Students in Ecclesial Contexts” in Contextualizing
Theological Education, Theodore Brelsford and P. Alice Rogers, eds. (Cleveland, OH:
Pilgrim Press, 2008), 56–66.
24. For a discussion of such a program, see Meri MacLeod, “Distance Hybrid Master of
Divinity: A Course-blended Program Developed by Western Theological Seminary,”
Theological Education 43, no. 2 (2008):, 79–92.
25. ATS Profiles of Ministry assessment tool is available from ATS and a description is
available online at www.ats.edu.
26. Richard Osmer, Practical Theology: An Introduction (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans,
2008), 3.
Legitimate Peripheral Participation:
Entering A Community of Practice
Matthew Floding
Glenn Swier
Twenty years ago, Etienne Wenger and Jean Lave coined the term “community of practice” in their book, Situated Learning: Legitimate Peripheral
Participation.1 In the book, they argue that learning occurs as one participates in a community of practice. “Learning involves the whole person; it
implies not only a relation to social communities—it implies becoming a full
participant, a member, a kind of person.”2 The newcomer’s participation
at first is legitimately peripheral, but over time is centripetally drawn inwards and becomes more engaged and more complex. This learning theory
holds promise for those of us who wrestle with communicating formational
concepts with our respective communities of practice, whether in person or
digitally within distributed learning formats.
At the time of publication, Wenger and Lave were critiquing educational
assumptions that are largely still with us in public education, namely, that
learning is an individual process, that it has a beginning and an end, that it is
best separated from the rest of our activities, and that it is the result of teaching.3 Further, Wenger observes, “To assess learning we use tests with which
Matthew Floding, Director of Formation for Ministry and Associate Professor of Christian
Ministry, Western Theological Seminary, 101 E. 13th St., Holland, MI 49423 (Email: matt.
floding@westernsem.edu).
Glenn Swier, Associate Director of Formation for Ministry, Western Theological Seminary,
101 E. 13th St., Holland, MI 49423 (Email: glenn.swier@westernsem.edu).
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Legitimate peripheral participation
the students struggle in one-on-one combat, where knowledge must be demonstrated out of context, and where collaborating is considered cheating.”4
The approach to education Wenger critiques is, of course, quite out of
step with the pedagogical approaches of most readers of Reflective Practice.
Wenger and his colleagues’ work is particularly intriguing for those of us in
theological field education where it is our normal practice to provide our students with a place to practice ministry and spaces to reflect on it with mentors
and peers, so that each may grow towards competency within a community
of practice—whether that of congregational ministers, chaplains, or some other form of specialized ministry.
This article will introduce and explore Wenger’s social theory of learning, identify key concepts and illustrate them with specific examples, and will
conclude with considerations around the promise and challenge of leveraging the power of his theory in a seminary experience—whether delivered in
a residential setting or at a distance. Throughout the article “Wenger” should
be understood to include the colleagues he has collaborated with in his other
publications.
Communities of Practice
Communities of practice are groups of people who share a concern, a set
of problems, or a passion about a topic, and who deepen their knowledge
and expertise in this area by interacting on an ongoing basis.5
Community is a buzzword today. The neighborhood in which you or I live
might be referred to as a community. It is not a community of practice, however, since we do not interact regularly with the consequence being that we
learn how to do something better. This does not mean that a community of
practice needs a great deal of formality. One can imagine a group of medical
assistants in a pediatric clinic who eat lunch together finding their conversation drifting toward a particular problem they commonly face and sharing
insights and solutions. Perhaps the old-timers speak from experience and
the newcomer from a new approach learned in their training—each benefits
from this informal give and take. Wenger uses the term “old-timer” in the
sense of a person with a recognized degree of mastery and “newcomer” as
one who is relatively inexperienced.
Wenger identifies three distinguishing characteristics of a community
of practice: (1) domain, (2) community, and (3) practice.6
Floding and Swier
195
1. Domain is the community’s raison d’être. It is the shared interest of the group.
The domain defines the identity of the community, its place in the world,
and its value to members and others. Membership in the community implies
a commitment to the domain and, therefore, a shared competence that distinguishes members from non-members. A well-defined domain will determine what knowledge and skills the community will steward.
2. Community refers to those who engage in joint activities and discussions,
help each other, share information, learn together, and build relationships—
resulting in a sense of belonging and mutual commitment. Members of a
healthy community of practice have a sense that making the community
more valuable is for the benefit of everyone.
3. Practice includes members of a community of practitioners—they share a
repertoire. Among possible shared activities Wenger identifies the routines,
words, tools, ways of doing things, stories, gestures, symbols, genres, actions, or concepts that the community has produced or adopted in the course
of its existence. Those of us concerned with formation for ministry might add
as a shared practice the habitus or life of devotion that sustains the minister. Within a domain, those commonly-adopted practices establish standards
that create a basis for action, communication, problem solving, performance,
and accountability.
To illustrate from experience for some and to spark imagination in others, take the Association for Theological Field Education (ATFE) as an example representing such a community of practice. Field Education’s domain is
formation for ministry through supervised ministry experiences, spaces for
ministerial reflection, and supporting classroom experiences within the context of a seminary or divinity school’s curriculum. This sets the field apart in
graduate theological education.
Community is fostered through professional development and networking, facilitated by the ATFE Biennial Consultation and deeper relationships
can grow around common research interests with others or through participation in an ATFE committee or caucus group.
Practice is especially intriguing for this group in that the baseline of
practice revolves around variations of the action-reflection model of education. Beyond this, since theological Field Educators come to practice their art
informed by their own ministry experiences and varied educational backgrounds, a wide variety of theoretical fields influence their individual practice.
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Legitimate Peripheral Participation
Without dismissing other learning theories, Wenger’s social theory of learning presents an additional perspective, as shown in the following passage:
What if we placed learning in the context of our lived experience in the
world? What if we assumed that learning is as much a part of our human
nature as eating and sleeping…and that—given the chance—we are quite
good at it?7
If we affirm this notion of learning as a social phenomenon, we can appreciate Wenger’s concept of legitimate peripheral participation.
We noted earlier that one enters a community of practice by a process of
participation that is at first legitimately peripheral, but that increases gradually in engagement and complexity. In Situated Learning, Wenger illustrates this
movement in five case studies. One case that demonstrates this principle vividly is the story of how one becomes a midwife in the Yucatec Mayan culture.
A girl grows up in a home where the mother or grandmother is a midwife—
this is a skill passed down through family lines. The young girl knows something about this life, since she sees the midwife go out at all hours, hears birth
stories being told, and sees the kinds of herbs that are collected and remedies
prepared. Eventually, she is asked to run treatment-related errands and invited to come and carry the midwife’s bag, or she may accompany the midwife
on a postpartum visit. Her involvement becomes more involved and bears
greater responsibility, so that after she has had her own child she will become
fully involved, culminating in what is culturally most significant, the birth of
the placenta8—a midwife is born. Participation, which for the young girl was
legitimately peripheral at first, became more engaged, and the formational
process resulted in her being recognized by her community of practice as a
full participant.
One can imagine a similar process with a seminarian entering a ministry context. Seminarians are typically eager to dive in—to experience ministry where negotiated with the supervisor-mentor. At the same time, there
are assignments from their field education professor requiring them to hover
around the edges—the periphery—observing, listening, questioning and reflecting. Some of these might involve congregational studies, such as studying
the worship space as an anthropologist. Meanwhile, the supervisor-mentor is
making observations so that she or he can invite greater involvement and coparticipation to assure that the supervisee’s second and third steps into the
community of practice, pastoral ministry are formational.
Floding and Swier
197
As the seminarian engages more deeply, we can imagine him or her asking interesting questions (some that may have arisen because of a course taken), and in the ensuing conversation some of the tacit knowledge that the experienced pastor possesses being offered. This is often the experience shared
between student and supervisor-mentor when doing ministerial reflection
around a case study or critical incident that the student has written. During
this processing, the experience of the pastor is drawn out in ways that otherwise would not likely occur.
During a training experience for supervisor-mentors, I shared a case
that I had previously shared with their student-mentees. It revolved around
an incident in which the pastor was challenged to share confidential information by the ruling board of the church. I had asked the students to name
all the issues that the case raised for them and recorded their responses on a
white board. On its reverse side, I recorded the relative responses from the
supervisor-mentors. The list for those already in ministry was about twice as
long! This illustrated for them, and later for the students when I showed them
the two lists, the power of using case studies and just how much knowledge
was there for the asking. The point here is that each can be enriched through
shared reflection, but that is especially true for the soon-to-be-pastor.
This process is not diminished by using a digital means for reflecting
on case studies—students also post case-studies online. Fellow students respond, not with “answers” or counsel, but with more questions, which are
intended to bring greater understanding to the case-study presenter. This relatively slower process—without the pressure of face-to-face immediacy—can
produce profound theological reflection.
In Cultivating Communities of Practice, Wenger has an extended discussion of the nature of knowledge that is apropos to this kind of learning
through participation. He describes four qualities of knowledge. First, that
knowledge lives in the human act of knowing. For example, reading Thomas
Long or Fred Craddock on the subject of preaching is quite a different learning
experience compared with stepping into the pulpit and preaching. Second,
knowledge is tacit as well as explicit. In other words, as Michael Polanyi has
observed in The Tacit Dimension, “We know more than we can tell.” Interaction and informal learning opportunities can release this knowledge, as noted
in the illustration comparing students’ and supervisor-mentors’ observations
of a case study. Third, knowledge is social as well as individual. For example,
diversity of persons, experiences, and theological perspectives in a seminary
class adds texture and richness to the experience. Fourth, knowledge is dy-
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namic, not static—it is continually in motion. In fact, Wenger asserts, our collective knowledge in any field is changing at an accelerating rate. Nevertheless, he observes, the core knowledge of a community of practice tends to be
stable and provides the required baseline for meaningful participation.
Legitimate peripheral participation can be further illustrated by the rigorous process one undergoes to enter the Association of Clinical Pastoral Education (ACPE) as a certified supervisor (of which I am not qualified to write)
or as a newcomer to field education becoming a full participant in the ATFE.
As a new professional enters this community of practice and attends his or
her first formal professional gathering, the new member typically marvels at
the breadth of backgrounds and the generosity of spirit with which old-timers
welcome them, assisting them in networking, and freely sharing resources.
The same spirit is evident in the workshops that are offered. The newcomer
feels she or he has discovered a treasure trove and leaves the gathering with
the sense that “these are my people.”9 The experience of these new colleagues
serves to underscore the notion that knowledge is a social phenomenon. In
other words, though our experience of knowing is individual, knowledge is
not.
Returning to the example of the soon-to-be-pastor; the movement of
learning is centripetal, as pictured in figure 1.10 The veteran pastor could also
be represented further in on the spiral as a reminder that one is committed to
life-long learning and that there are others to learn from as well.
Figure 1. Centripetal movement of learning
Floding and Swier
199
“Legitimate,” as in legitimate peripheral participation, suggests two dimensions of the learning experience. First, the old-timer has the power to confer
legitimacy on the newcomer. This can happen through rituals employed to
introduce the seminary intern to the congregation and the public language
used to describe this person and the role she or he is playing while serving
and learning with this ministry. Expectations by the members of the congregation are raised and, as a result, there is a spirit of permission-giving and a
desire to see the newcomer practice their art. That being said, the old-timer
controls access—the supervisor-mentor can control access to the kinds and
levels of experiences that the newcomer is allowed. How this power is wielded is critical to the kind of growth the newcomer will experience. To name this
power and encourage responsible wielding of it, I have posed the following
hypothetical question to a group of supervisor-mentors: Suppose you have
the responsibility to replace yourself in three years. How will you invest your
and your intern’s time over that period so that they can responsibly step into
your shoes? Invariably, their responses sound like a commitment to apprenticeship, a walking alongside, and an intentional rotation of experiences involving greater and greater responsibility; signaling a welcome to the pastoral
community of practice.
Secondly, as noted earlier, it is legitimate for the newcomer to begin on
the periphery, which has two advantages. One, the level of engagement and
performance expected is likely to be appropriate. The newcomer can identify what is, in fact, new (competence and performance concerns) and the
old-timer can help discern what is essential and important. Second, as one
enters a community of practice, this period of time at the periphery may be
special because of the “new eyes” with which one views it. There may be
very interesting observations shared between newcomer and old-timer. For
example, a student might observe that because the faith community is largely mono-cultural they are not only missing out on alternative perspectives,
they may—precisely because of this lack—be hamstrung in their efforts to
serve the larger, more multi-cultural context in which they are situated.
In a good internship experience, the newcomer fortunately does not
remain on the periphery. The newcomer is drawn further in (figure 1) and
is also allowed to practice his or her craft in order to move from the novice
level towards mastery or competency—to go deep. Figure 2 suggests that
as the newcomer moves further into the community of practice, her or his
level of competency—through practice and reflection—grows deeper. One
may call to mind here Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers, in which he catalogues
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LEGITIMATE PERIPHERAL PARTICIPATION
the outrageous number of hours one must practice to be outstanding in any
given pursuit.11
Figure 2. Spiral of Deepening Competency
The depth that figure 2 suggests is the capacity to practice a ministry skill
competently in a new situation—that is, the ability to improvise. What
marks the seasoned old-timer is the ability to approach a ministry-opportunity that presents a new set of variables less anxiously and with the capacity
to respond appropriately and creatively.
ImplIcatIons for supervIsIon
Whether near or far, trained conventionally in an in-service type experience
or through an online regimen, the supervisor-mentor12 must begin his or
her work with a good deal of self-awareness. This would include an honest
self-appraisal about one’s gifts for ministry; how one plies their strengths
and manages one’s weaker areas. When working in an area of strength, for
example, the supervisor-mentor can consider the implications for the supervisee of fostering integration through emulation, while at the same time
encouraging personal authenticity. The goal, of course, is that each ministerial student may become, by God’s grace, what God intends. A favorite reminder to me that attempts at cloning are futile comes from Michael Pollan’s
Botany of Desire, in which he recounts the genetic marvels of the apple.13 Slice
an apple in half at its equator and you will find five small chambers arrayed
Floding and Swier
201
in the shape of a pentagram and each chamber holds a seed or two—imagine that the apple is a Honeycrisp. If you plant these seeds, each would result in a completely new and different apple and none of them would be a
Honeycrisp!
It would follow then, that a supervisor-mentor would be a person of
maturity. This capacity to honestly acknowledge weaknesses and own one’s
feelings about them liberates the supervisor to celebrate the giftedness of
the newcomer and to encourage development using a variety of means, including other members of the community of practice. This disposition of humility and wonder at God’s grace at work in calling and forming ministers
also invites students to communicate with their supervisor-mentor candidly
about their experience. The acronym, “NICE,” has proved empowering to
interns.14
Nis for needs. Do not be afraid to spell out what it is you need to achieve your
learning goals and objectives. It will be an encouragement to your supervisor-mentor to know how she or he can tailor the learning opportunity to address the needs you’ve identified.
I is for interests. Let your supervisor-mentor know what you are interested in,
the more specific the better. She/he is committed to providing space for you
to explore your ministry interests.
C is for concerns. You may at times have concerns about your field placement.
Your supervisor-mentor is the first person to speak with, since he or she
wants the field education experience to go well. However, if you need help
thinking through how you might speak to the concern, meet with your field
education director, who is an expert at this kind of thing.
E is for expectations. Make sure that you and your supervisor-mentor are operating with the same expectations. Your learning covenant or learning/serving contract provides one opportunity to discuss and define these.
Even adult learners may feel they need permission to voice these kinds of
concerns. The hospitable supervisor-mentor welcomes this kind of conversation with a soon-to-be-member of their community of practice. We also
remind interns to add an “H” to the acronym for humility, because as a newcomer to a community of practice there is much for each of us to learn.
How does the perspective of legitimate peripheral participation comport with the experience of today’s seminarians? Over several years, we
asked our students the same question, “What does your mentor do that is
helpful in your formation?”15
• He listens and affirms well.
• She is available and consistent.
202
• She lets me bring questions that concern me.
• He lets me try new things, even experiment.
• They [pastoral staff] genuinely care about me.
• He wants me to experience all aspects of ministry.
• I was asked what I wanted to learn and was taken seriously.
• He pays attention to both the professional and the personal identity stuff.
• She pushes me to be self-reflective.
• She offers encouraging and specific feedback.
• He took me along and introduced me to everyone; I felt welcomed.
• He challenges me to see alternative approaches to ministry.
The above reflections by students on what they specifically appreciated, besides naming laudable practices, reveal intentionality on the part of
the supervisor-mentor that brings the new ministerial student further in and
deeper down into pastoral ministry.
What else might be addressed in preparing supervisors, near or far,
given the challenge of guiding the newcomer further in and deeper down?
The following are some suggestions.
1. Invite the supervisor-mentor to disclose to his or her intern an honest selfappraisal of areas of strengths and weaknesses and some personal history
with reference to the community of practice, such as significant mentors, experiences, and work history.
2. Communicate clearly program expectations and the documentation necessary to evaluate the student’s movement into the community of practice,
such as referencing the two horizons:, which include the broad-range of
skills ministers regularly employ and the narrower and more immediate,
specific competencies, which the student identifies in learning covenants negotiated with the supervisor-mentor.
3. Encourage a cataloging of human resources within the community of practice and others the intern may choose to include. This underscores the importance for the supervisor-mentor of being mindful of the temptation to always
reference “my practice” as opposed to the larger community of practice, in
all its variations, as a resource for the intern.
4. Ask the supervisor-mentor to reflect on the many other human and nonhuman resources that sustain him or her in ministry and enumerate them for
the intern. For example, wellness programs, spiritual direction, significant
books, one’s devotional life, hobbies, etc.
5. Encourage reflection on longevity in ministry, naming that which sustains
one personally in ministry for the “long haul.” Also, reflect and name the
Floding and Swier
203
habits and examples of those further in and deeper down in this community
of practice.
6. Acquaint supervisor-mentors with varieties of ways in which they can beneficially engage their students. For example: faith companion, mentor, coach,
consultant, and evaluator.16
7. Help supervisor-mentors imagine creating risk-taking space for their intern,
even room for failure. Prepare them to consider how they will respond in
that situation and how they will offer support.
Meaningful participation in a new community of practice is a complex process that combines doing, talking, thinking, feeling, and belonging. It involves the whole person, including bodies, minds, emotions, and social relations.17 This is both the challenge and the opportunity of welcoming the
newcomer into a community of practice.
NOTES
1.
Jean Lave and Etienne Wenger, Situated Learning: Legitimate Peripheral Participation
(New York: Cambridge University Press, 1991).
2.
Ibid., 3.
3.
Ibid., 21.
4.
Etienne Wenger, Communities of Practice: Learning, Meaning and Identity (New York:
Cambridge University Press, 1998), 3.
5.
Etienne Wenger, Richard McDermott and William Snyder, Cultivating Communities of
Practice (Boston, MA: Harvard Business School Press, 2002), 4.
6.
The definitions of these concepts are sourced in Lave and Wenger, Situated Learning;
Communities of Practice; Wenger, McDermott, and Snyder, Cultivating Communities of
Practice; and further information kindly shared by Etienne Wenger by email and located online: www.ewenger.com/theory.communities_of_practice_intro.htm (Last
accessed on September 2, 2010).
7.
Wenger, Communities of Practice, 3.
8.
Lave and Wenger, Situated Learning, 68–69.
9.
If this seems a bit “rose-colored” as a description, I claim it only as a report of my own
experience.
10. Figures provided by Ashlee Floding.
11. Malcolm Gladwell, Outliers (New York: Little, Brown and Company, 2008), 239.
12. The use of supervisor-mentor is intentional. In an internship or supervised ministry experience the old timer supervises and evaluates the student but at the same time, as a
member of a community of practice, the old timer is also welcoming, introducing and
mentoring the intern into a community of practice.
204
13. Michael Pollan, The Botany of Desire (New York: Random House, Inc., 2001), 10.
14. This is discussed further from both the intern’s and the supervisor-mentor’s perspectives in Matthew Floding, ed., Welcome to Theological Field Education (Herndon, VA:
Alban, 2010), 6ff.
15. Surveys conducted among field education participants 2005–2008 at Western Theological Seminary, Holland, MI.
16. These ways of engaging interns are outlined in the online supervision training site
of the Presbyterian/Reformed Theological Field Educators: http://prtfe.wordpress.
com.
17. Wenger, McDermott, and Snyder, Cultivating Communities of Practice, 56.
Theme for Volume 32 of Reflective Practice
VIRTUES IN FORMATION AND SUPERVISION
A virtue is a well-established disposition or character trait guiding thought
and action. To possess a virtue is to be a certain sort of person with a particular state of mind. Classically, virtue is the perfection of a capacity like
trust or courage. The capacity is universal, but its internalization is a matter
of individual cultivation. Virtues have to do with moving toward the fullest
potential of being human. Therefore, because we believe that a discussion
about virtues needs to be part of any conversation regarding the preparation of present and future religious leaders, the Editorial Board has chosen
as its theme for Volume 32: Virtues in Formation and Supervision.
• To what extent formation and/or supervision for religious leadership is, or
should be, virtue forming processes?
• Are virtues formed or are they something that is already present within an individual simply needing to be evoked and nurtured?
• How does the nature and practice of being virtuous change across cultures or
across time in the same culture?
• Are there particular virtues that are especially necessary for the practice of religious leadership in the 21st century?
• If virtues can be formed, how are they encouraged or by what processes are
they formed?
• How do the virtues of a supervisor affect the process of developing virtues in
and through supervision?
• What is the relation between emotions and virtues; between character traits and
virtues; between values and virtues?
• Are there particular virtues that need to be developed to energize and enable
caring action?
Because this Journal is now available electronically across the globe, we hope
that people will write about formation and supervision from their context in order that we may all be enriched by a diversity of perspectives. Proposals are welcome any time. Articles should be submitted electronically to Herbert Anderson,
Editor, at handerson@plts.edu, by January 31, 2012 for inclusion in Volume 32.
Adult Development and
Theological Field Education
Lorraine Ste-Marie
The overall goal of theological field education is to equip adult learners for
effective pastoral leadership. In order to achieve that goal, not only must
theological field education be a space for learners to acquire specific skills
and knowledge, but it must also attend to their development as adult learners. Although the formation and education of religious leaders has always
been about the development of adults; the connections between the two
perspective are often more implicit than explicit.1 This separation is understandable, given the fact that the notions of adult development and adult
learning are still fairly new, and it is only recently that we have started to
make explicit connections between the two.2
My own interest in adult development and pastoral leadership education was originally fueled by my own lack of an adequate conceptual framework to face the challenges in working with the action-reflection model of
learning. I needed a way to understand why some learners were more capable than others of reflecting on, and learning from, their pastoral experience.
My conceptual tools for assessing and supporting their development were
Lorraine Ste-Marie, DMin, faculty of Human Sciences, Pastoral Studies, Saint Paul University, 223 Main St., GIG 324, Ottawa, Ontario, K1S 1C4, Canada (Email: lste-marie@
ustpaul.ca).
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Adult development and Theological Field Education
inadequate for the seriousness of the task. This lack has led me through a decade of exploration into the connection between adult development theory
and my experience in pastoral leadership education. I began by exploring
the connection between Robert Kegan’s adult developmental framework
and the learning tool used by Lisa Lahey and Kegan that enabled learners to
uncover and overcome their own hidden resistances to change.3 In 2007, this
research led me to discover and begin working with Otto Laske’s Constructive-Developmental Framework (CDF),4 which integrates the Kegan model
and offers a more comprehensive and variegated perspective for thinking
about and attending to adult development in the process of ministerial formation. Kegan’s stage development theory is the most widely-used in professional leadership development today,5 along with his substantive work
in the area of immunity to change,6 I have found that Laske’s framework
offers the educator important tools for assessing learners’ throughout their
development. I will briefly summarize Laske’s adult development theory
later in the essay.
Survey of Developmental Needs in Theological Field Education
In order to discover what my colleagues in theological field education were
thinking about the developmental needs of students, I conducted an online
survey with members of the Association for Theological Field Education
(ATFE) in early 2010. I wanted to identify the range of developmental issues they were dealing with in the professional education of pastoral leaders. The survey consisted of 21 questions, some of which were multiplechoice, while others asked for explicit comments or examples. Participants
could choose more than one response to the multiple choice questions. (See
Appendix I for the questionnaire.) Out of 100 potential participants, I had
a 30 percent response rate.7 Respondents represented theological field education programs in the United States, Canada, Australia, and the United
Kingdom, in which the cohort size ranged from 10 to over 100. Also, they
represent a broad range of Protestant denominations, as well as the Anglican and Roman Catholic communions. In this article, I address only the
questions that refer directly to the experience of developmental needs in
the theological field education program.
STE-MARIE
207
Question: in your experience, what are the most pressing developmental needs for candidates in ministry?
er
th
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Figure 1: most pressing developmental needs in candidates for ministry
As noted in Figure 1, the responses show a fairly even distribution amongst
all the developmental needs cited, with a slightly higher percentage of spiritual needs. All participants chose more than one category, some of whom
checked all of them. The responses to the “other” category listed developmental needs in relation to leadership, psycho-sexual identity, vocational
call, identity, acculturation, and integration.
Question: Give examples of how learners demonstrate the developmental
needs in the areas they identified.
• Social Development. The need for social development among ministry students is evident in the lack of self-awareness regarding their impact on others. Patterns of relating that polarize people, avoid or heighten conflict and
foster dependency are additional signs of inadequate social development.
The inability to read situations and respond appropriately and the absence of
initiative were included under this category.
• Emotional development issues were identified as anger, little sense of emotional or physical boundaries, lack of empathy, an inability to read situations
and respond appropriately as well as a reluctance to take responsibility for
one’s own learning. This was particularly true for students from non-Western
cultures.
• Psychological development included difficulty in adapting to the dynamics of
new environments, a struggle to manage time and finances, and a persistent
need for affirmation for performing well. In addition, respondents included
ADULT DEVELOPMENT AND THEOLOGICAL FIELD EDUCATION
208
reference to depression and personal woundedness as signs of diminished
psychological development.
• The absence of Cognitive Development was reported as the inability to integrate Scripture into ministerial practice, lack of theological clarity, or the incapacity to analyze a contextual problem. Difficulty in understanding assignments, dogmatism, literalism, or the lack of mental templates to reflect upon
what they already know and are learning were linked to cognitive development. So also the inclination to provide set answers to ministry needs without working them through to an integrated response.
• Spiritual Development issues among students included the absence of trust in
their vocational calling, the inability to connect the Gospel to their own selfworth, and pragmatic emphasis on getting a job and title rather than growing
into relationship with God. In a number of ways, the lack of a habit of spiritual discipline was reported as a sign of insufficient spiritual development.
• Ethical/moral Development was regarded as problematic because of lying, plagiarism, and other instances of cheating, boundary issues, and generally little
clarity about being more “ethical.” Learners had difficulty articulating rationale behind actions and beliefs.
Question: What other language or terms do you use to refer to students’ development in your program?
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10
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Figure 2. Frequency of other terms used to refer to developmental
needs
As Figure 2 shows, the terms “maturity” or “progress” are the most frequently used to refer to developmental needs. In the “other” category, participants
referred to terms such as personal and professional identity formation, integration, readiness for ministry, and spiritual formation. Contrary to the earlier question noted in Figure 1, I intentionally added the term “adult develop-
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ment” to see if the participants would make some connections with this term
and the developmental needs they had already identified. This term was the
used least. One participant explained the reluctance to refer to adult development this way: “Many of our candidates come to [their theological studies]
after adult experiences such as parenting and other responsible employment,
so we don’t often refer to adult development.” In contrast to that comment,
another participant felt this was an important term: “I think we need to continue, and even deepen, our vigilance about finding and utilizing learning
strategies and tools that attend to adult development effectively.”
Question:In your experience what is the connection between a student’s
developmental level and his or her capacity for theological
reflection?
All but one respondent named a strong correlation between learners’ development and their capacity for theological reflection. The responses described that connection in the following ways:
• There is a mutual relationship between the two that can either be positive or
negative. In order to do theological reflection, learners need to have attained
a particular level of maturity.
• Where students are more able to critique themselves and their practice of
ministry, they are more able to do theological reflection.
• Students who have integrity and who are self-aware typically are able to provide superior theological reflection.
• The connection between adult development and theological reflection is critical. The ability of the student to reflect theologically is essential. The [theological field] education course becomes the crucible where students integrate
personal, professional, and theological understandings.
• One response included concrete reference to an intelligent male learner, who
readily grasps theological concepts, but the theological notions are not yet
grounded in the reality of his relationships and life. Theology is, at this point
for him, ‘a world of ideas’ rather than a framework out of which to live and
relate and grow.
These responses were presented in a workshop format at the 31st Biennial Consultation of the ATFE, held in January 2011.8 These findings, along
with the feedback from the participants in that workshop, have given me an
important lens for thinking about the necessity of adult development theory
within theological field education. It is necessary because without an explicit connection between the two, we will continue to dwell on learning skills
and behaviors without taking into account the learners’ developmental attributes that contribute to their emerging professional competence. The fol-
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lowing quote from Garrett McAuliffe captures the essence of this concern in
all forms of professional education:
The fates of organizations and human lives can rely on the competence of
professionals who make judgments and take actions under conditions of
uncertainty. It is imperative, therefore, that the requirements for professional competence be delineated, so initial professional education and ongoing training match those requisites. Developmental capacity, or stage,
is one of those conditions, as professional work requires a high level of
complexity that comes with increasing developmental capacity.”9
An explicit connection between adult development and field education is
necessary, but not sufficient, because no theory can explain the complexity
of the human person living in relationship to the Transcendent. Because the
human person is a mystery, we use insights and scientific empirical tools
cautiously. Despite these limitations, I propose that adult development theory can make a significant contribution to understanding how learners in
theological field education might grow into the fullness of their potential in
response to their respective calls to pastoral leadership.
I have found the Constructive-Developmental Framework (CDF) developed by Otto Laske to be a significant heuristic device for understanding many
(but not all) of the developmental challenges reported in the survey. The CDF
is an innovative approach to adult development in that it incorporates insights
from a variety of theoretical perspectives on adult development. Together,
these offer a unique framework for assessing and supporting developmental
needs. In my own work, I have found the CDF to be comprehensive and practical enough to re-frame many, but not all, of the reported needs listed above and
provide educational strategies for working with those needs. In the next section, I provide a brief overview of that framework and then examine in-depth
two dimensions of CDF that illustrate how it can offer a new perspective for
thinking about developmental learning needs in the formation for ministry.
The Constructive Developmental Framework (CDF)
As its name suggests, this framework is based on an approach to adult development that refers to the social constructing that occurs in individuals as
they learn. Building on the insights of Jean Piaget and others, this approach
recognizes that all humans are on a developmental trajectory in which we
construct our own reality through structures of meaning. These structures are
not static but rather have the potential to change through a process of qualitative shifts. The expectation is that because of these changes, individuals will
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increase in depth and complexity throughout a lifetime. As educators who use
the action-reflection model of learning are aware, developmental learning can
be challenging and even threatening to learners when it calls into question the
internal logic that holds their ways of knowing in place. In this approach to
adult development, the overriding theme is balance or ‘equilibrium’ as Piaget
coined it. Encountering complexity can sometimes feel like losing balance. Increased complexity and uncertainty in our environment may prompt us to ignore what does not fit into our current structures or we can enter into a change
process by first recognizing the limitations of structures that have previously
provided meaning in our lives. Once we acknowledge those limitations, we
may be open to critiquing and transforming them in order to gain a more inclusive way of understanding ourselves and the world.
Otto Laske’s Constructive-Developmental Framework (CDF) adapts and
integrates a number of adult developmental theories to offer a systemic view of
adult development in which there are three primary meaning structures: (1) social-emotional, (2) cognitive, and (3) psychological. The structures of meaning
through which we construct reality are referred to as Frames of Reference (FoR)
which seek to maintain equilibrium in all three dimensions of the learner’s developmental trajectory. Each Frame of Reference asks a different question:
1. Social-emotional: What should I do and for whom?
2. Cognitive: What can I do and what are my options?
3. Psychological: How am I doing?
The writer Anaïs Nin captures the truth about constructing our world with
these words: “We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are.”10 At
every stage of our development, we all have a certain lack of self-awareness
about how we frame meaning. For theological field educators, it is important to increase our awareness of our current FoR so that we can reflect upon
it, question or critique it, lest we repeat our same interpretations and practices. In this article, I briefly describe particular characteristics of the first
two dimensions of the CDF that enable us to re-frame some of the developmental issues named in the survey.
Social-Emotional Profile: “What Should I Do And For Whom?”
Throughout their preparation for ministry, learners are in relationship with
a number of persons from a variety of communities. How they answer the
question “What should I do and for whom?” will depend on their level
of social-emotional development. The social-emotional profile in CDF is
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based on Robert Kegan’s constructive-development theory that consists of
five principle stages that determine our mode of functioning in the social
world.11 As with the developmental trajectory in general, as we reach higher
levels we shed more and more of our subjectivity and acquire a larger and
larger objectivity, including a deeper understanding of self-in-relation to
others. Our progression is realized through a series of four transitions that
follow a developmental pattern of recurring incremental steps in which we
become more and more aware that our current experience or problems no
longer fit our current meaning-making structures. The CDF helps us to pay
attention to how learners are giving evidence of their current or operative
level in the developmental pattern and helps us to offer them support in
making the transition required to respond differently to the problems they
encounter. Social-emotional development is a paradoxical process of selfdiscovery because it happens through self-loss. As Luke 9:24 tells us, it is in
losing our selves in the journey of faith that we are led deeper and deeper
into self-discovery—we gain a self by losing a self
The following brief overview of the social-emotional developmental
journey beyond infancy (Stage 1) highlights both the strengths and limits
of each stage. I also include statistics from research done by adult developmentalist, Suzanne Cook-Greuter, that indicate the percentage of the general
adult population that function at Stages 2, 3, 4 and 5.12 A study of student
populations in seminaries confirms a similar trend in the distribution of developmental levels in North American seminaries.13
Stage 2: In the gradual movement toward Stage 2, the child comes to
see self and other as opposites. Stage 2 is referred to as the “Instrumentalist”
stage in which the self is subject to her own needs, wishes, and interests and
the other is seen as an instrument or resource for her needs-gratification. In
this stage, the self relates to the other in terms of the possible consequences
for her own worldview. She is unable to consider the other’s independent
view without beginning with an account of her own view. Although CookGreuter’s research indicates that about 10 percent of the general adult population is still developmentally at Stage 2, most adult development literature
does not include Stage 2.14 In my experience, understanding this stage is
very helpful in assessing learner readiness to even begin theological field
education. The persistence of this stage in the adult development of seminary students is evidenced by some of the comments reported in the survey:
• lack of self-awareness (subject to her own needs);
• tendency to regard ministry as a job rather than vocation;
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• patterns of relationship that polarize others as well as avoid or heighten conflict; and
• lack of emotional and physical boundaries.
Stage 3: In Stage 3, ”Other-Dependency,” an individual gradually begins
to internalize other(s) who become part of her self. In this stage, the self subordinates her needs to the community or work group. Her identity is determined
by others who are needed to contribute to her own sense of self. Her beliefs and
judgments are influenced by the real or imagined expectations of others. CookGreuter’s research indicates that approximately 55 percent of the adult population functions at Stage 3. Developmental practitioners report that institutions
and culture, in general, offer very little social support to move beyond this
stage. In some cases, there is much pressure put upon people to stay here in an
effort to maintain the status quo.15 Tendencies among seminary students attributed to this stage are found in the following examples given by respondents:
• real or imagined inability to take responsibility for one’s learning;
• boundary issues in dual relationships;
• struggling to take responsibility for one’s own learning and other dependency issues; and
• poor management of change, evidenced by the need to please or fit in.
Stage 4: Those who move beyond the other-dependent state to Stage 4,
the “Self-Authoring” stage, have gained greater self-insight into their needs.
Actions flow from their striving to live out of their own value system. As
with Stage 2, Stage 4 is about psychological self-sufficiency. The difference
is that in Stage 2, the individual maintains her autonomy through personal
control of the external environment, whereas the Stage 4 individual ensures
her self-sufficiency through personal control of her psychological self-definition and her value-directed conduct in the world.
Cook-Greuter’s research indicates that about 25 percent of the general
adult population is at Stage 4, many of whom are in managerial type roles
within their organizations or communities. For many people, it is hard work
to get there and when they finally do, they often feel that they have finally
made it. Stage 4 individuals prefer to maintain the status quo. They have
difficulty standing away from their idiosyncratic life and career history in
a critical way, because they are subject to it. In fact, they may be defensive
when asked to do so. As change-agents, they will try to impose their own
value system on others in order to make the community better and may find
it challenging to go beyond merely respecting others. This can be evident in
developmental needs of seminary students reported in the survey:
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• lack of self-awareness (subject to own norms and value system);
• tendencies to be defensive and polarize people; and
• poor change management skills (try to impose own value system on
community/others).
Stage 5: In the move toward Stage 5, the self gradually gives up identifying with any particular role or value system, especially when it is seen
as an obstacle of getting to know his own limits. This is the highest stage in
the current adult development literature. Cook-Greuter’s research indicates
that less than 10 percent of the adult population achieves this stage completely. Giving priority to self-regulation for the sake of others, the Stage
5 self slowly surrenders her counter-dependent independence for interdependence. Others contribute to her integrity and balance. As the need to
control lessens, an awareness of limitations leads to greater humility. At this
“Self-Aware” stage, rather than being subject to one’s own self-determined
ideological or value system, there is a refinement and redefinition of one’s
views in conversation with others’ who may hold different value systems.
This shift is also reflected in the advancement from being a manager in an
organization to being a system-wide leader, gradually becoming more adept at taking, coordinating, and evaluating multiple perspectives with others. In moving from being an “institution with its own values and laws,” the
individual is no longer subject to being a “self-made” institution as such.
This capacity has an impact on how obligations towards self and others are
determined in response to the question, “What should I do and for whom?”
Cognitive Profile: “What Can I Do and What are My Options?”
As with aspects of social-emotional development, the cognitive dimension
clarifies some of the developmental challenges named above. Distinguishing between “how” we know and “what” we know, the CDF reveals the
structure of our thinking that significantly affects our range of options and
actions. In this framework, thinking has three essential and interrelated
ingredients;
1. the ability for reflective judgment that develops in stages (epistemic
positions);
2. the ability to justify what we take to be “true” in logical terms; and
3. a set of cognitive tools that enables us to engage with uncertainty.
All three ingredients are acquired gradually throughout the course of life
as we move through four eras of cognitive development, each of which has
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its own inquiry system. They are all ingredients of an adult developmental
achievement.16 As with the stages in the social-emotional strand, each era of
cognitive development integrates the previous era into a more complex and
inclusive thinking system—and each era has its strengths and its limits.
The first era, referred to as the Era of Common Sense, is usually attributed to young children whose thinking is usually very concrete and does
not recognize contradictions. At about the age of 10, humans begin to think
logically, moving them into the Era of Understanding. Common sense is incorporated into a more abstract level of thinking in which contradictions are
recognized, but not tolerated. This kind of “either/or” thinking is demonstrated by what respondents in the survey referred to as dogmatism and literalism. From early adulthood on, cognitive development leads from mastering formal logic to practicing post-formal or dialectical thinking, in which
contradictions become included as part of the bigger picture of reality. Here
we move into the Era of Reason in which we become fluid in using abstractions in more sophisticated ways than were possible in the Era of Understanding. The culmination of the process is the Era of Practical Wisdom.
Together the four eras, or classes, of thought-forms offer a dialectical view of knowledge and existence as an open system in which change,
wholeness, and internal relations are integral to the unceasing process of
transformation. In each of these eras, adults choose and act from different inquiry systems, levels of systemic thinking, and degrees of thought fluidity;
thereby performing differently in their respective organizational environments. Each of these eras can be characterized by a particular set of cognitive
tools that progressively become available to consciousness as they predictably transform the previous cognitive dimension.17
The benefit of this framework for formation and supervision in ministry is that by operationalizing dialectical thinking, we can enhance it in
learners by teaching and using dialectical thought-forms in theological reflection. Each of the four eras is differentiated by the degree to which cognitive fluidity can be measured by listening for the speaker’s use of dialectical thought-forms. As cognitive fluidity increases, an individual will use an
increasing number of thought forms with progressively stronger interconnections among them. As the summit of cognitive development, Practical
Wisdom is characterized by what seems to be a return to the simplicity of
Common Sense. In this era, even complex insight becomes entirely natural
and is produced without the effort that dialectical thinking requires. This is
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the degree of wisdom toward which humans strive and yet very few fully
realize.18
There is one additional structure to the CDF system that needs to be
mentioned. The epistemic position is the stance which mediates between
the social-emotional stage and our phase of cognitive development. As one
of the three ingredients in cognitive development, epistemic position reflects our social-emotional stage in the cognitive domain, underlying our
social-emotional attachment to where and how truth is to be found. This insight has helped me to understand why some learners demonstrate strong
emotional attachments to their respective views of knowledge and truth—
the epistemic position defines a person’s conception of these. As with other
dimensions of this framework, the epistemic position is rooted in stage approach and connects our capacity for reflective thinking (see Appendix III).
The epistemic position relates to both our cognitive and social-emotional
development and offers a conceptual framework for attending to some of
the challenges we encounter in our attempts to do authentic theological reflection with our learners.
Cognitive Development and Theological Reflection
The survey respondents indicated a strong correlation between development and theological reflection. The greater the learners’ self-awareness
and capacity for integrative learning, the greater their capacity for theological reflection. In their book entitled The Art of Theological Reflection, Patricia
O’Connell Killen and John de Beer qualify authentic theological reflection
as being “more than mindless obedience to authority or totally self-determined thought and action.”19 As shown in the diagram and explanation below, “mindless obedience to authority” coincides with Killen and de Beer’s
standpoint of certitude. “Totally self-determined thought and action” coincides with their standpoint of self-assurance. Authentic theological reflection coincides with the standpoint of explorer. Because epistemic position
mediates between the social-emotional and cognitive levels of development, it provides a clear developmental perspective to each of the three
standpoints.20
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Standpoint of
Certitude:
Pre-reflective
Thinking
Standpoint of
explorer:
Reflective Thinking
Tradition
217
Standpoint of
Self-Assurance:
Quasi-reflective
Thinking
experience
Figure 3: Standpoints in Theological Reflection21
Standpoint of Certitude as Pre-Reflective Thinking: This standpoint
relies on a given set of knowledge and “rules to direct our lives clearly and
effectively.” This standpoint mediates the social-emotional need for viewing others as a resource for meeting her own needs with the cognitive era
of understanding, in which logic does not tolerate contradictions. This kind
of thinking is effective in dealing with well-structured problems that can
be described with “a high degree of completeness and can be solved with
a high degree of certainty”22 For example, preparing a worship service can
be an example of a well-structured problem. There is knowledge about how
worship has been ordered in the past that could be used in the stages of prereflective thinking. However, when this same learner encounters conflict
among members in the worship committee concerning who should serve
as lectors, she may find herself on unfamiliar ground and be ill-equipped
to address that conflict. This is an example of an ill-structured problem that
“cannot be described with a high degree of completeness and cannot be resolved with a high degree of certainty.”23 Pre-reflective thinkers can tolerate
only what fits into their predetermined categories. The learner relies on her
deductive thinking skills and has little or no ability to take into account the
context or practice into her attempts to solve the problem.
Standpoint of Self-Assurance as Quasi-ReflectiveThinking: In this
standpoint, the learner seeks certitude through self-reliance and tradition
only that which serves to support what he already knows and thinks.24 This
standpoint mediates the social-emotional stages in which he seeks greater
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autonomy and independence and his cognitive era of reason, in which formal logic is only beginning to tolerate contradiction. As an inductive thinker, he feels confident that what he knows from within his own context can
be justified by his own frames of reference. This confidence is subject to the
limits of his embeddedness within family, culture, and traditions, which he
either denies or of which he is unaware. Furthermore, because the learner is
unaware of his own mental templates, he is unable to reflect on them in order to integrate what he already knows into his ongoing learning.
Standpoint of Explorer as a Reflective Thinker: In this standpoint, the
learner engages the tradition in conversation with her experience in order
to let its wisdom emerge in her life and ministry. This standpoint mediates
between the social-emotional stages in which she gradually seeks to re-define her own ideological system in conversation with others who hold different systems, and the era of cognitive development, in which her cognitive fluidity allows for a dialectical view of reality. Her epistemic stance of
exploration is “faithful to the fullest reading of the tradition, including the
experience of the present community of faith.”25 Knowledge is viewed as the
outcome of a reasonable inquiry and decisions are justified on the basis of
a variety of interpretative considerations, including the weight of evidence
and the explanatory value of interpretations.26 It is only in this standpoint
that learners can overcome what one respondent has named as “the developmental challenge of seeing and understanding how the Christian worldview reframes and interacts” with his own economic, political, and sociological environment.
Whether we think logically or dialectically, we take a position toward
what is the nature of truth for us. The higher our cognitive fluidity, the more
cognitive tools we have at our disposal to find and create knowledge. Learners who demonstrate tendencies towards dogmatism and literalism and
have difficulty analyzing a contextual problem are most likely in a pre-reflective stage. On the other hand, those who appear confused, lack theological clarity, and have difficulty dealing with ambiguity might find themselves
in a quasi-reflective stage, in which justification for truth and knowledge is
idiosyncratic and context-specific. CDF is helpful for understanding the recurring challenge of accepting multiple sides of an issue. It gives us a framework for seeing when learners lack the cognitive tools to construct solutions
that can be evaluated by criteria, such as the weight of evidence indicated by
the practicality of the solutions they choose. It is only in the epistemic positions attributed to “reflective thinking” that knowledge comes to be viewed
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as the outcome of a process of reasonable inquiry in which solutions to illstructured problems can be constructed.27
Implications for Pastoral Supervision
The CDF approach to adult education signals that “stages of development
unfold in a specific invariant sequence, with each successive stage including
and transcending the previous one.”28 If theological field education is, as one
respondent claims, “the crucible” for integration and if authentic theological
reflection is to be undertaken as Killen and de Beer claim, from the standpoint of the explorer, then educators must not only posit the goal before the
learners—we must have a sense of where they currently are developmentally in order provide them with the necessary learning opportunities, and
then accompany them through the developmental trajectory toward that
goal. This is where CDF can support our educational practices.
At the core of the CDF are its claims that cognitive development is the
motor for social-emotional development and that dialectical thinking can be
taught.
[I]n contrast to social-emotional development, cognitive development is
to a high degree open to influence by teaching and coaching. A person
can be helped in reaching a higher level of cognitive equilibrium by using
dialectical thought forms as mind openers. No such tools exist in the socialemotional domain, which is a different way of saying that all tools used in
that domain are cognitive by definition.29
Because the cognitive tools can be taught, I believe they can also serve in
mentoring or pastoral supervision for giving feedback and opening other
avenues for reflecting on pastoral and ecclesial praxis.
Theological field education is often marked by ideological debates that
reinforce the division between relativism and absolutism. This is one of the
areas that I believe the CDF use of dialectical thinking makes an important contribution to pastoral leadership education. According to Michael
Basseches, one of the primary sources for the CDF cognitive framework—
dialectical thinking—remediates and transforms these two exclusive forms
of thinking that continue to draw the line between many of our ideologies
and theologies.
“Dialectical thinking as an intellectual tradition represents a third alternative to two powerful styles of thought which have exerted considerable
influence on contemporary humanistic, scientific and social thought in
both their professional and “common sense” forms.” I call these “universalistic formalistic thinking and relativistic thinking.”30
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Both universalist and relativistic thinking are closed-system thinking; that is
they both see reality as closed, static systems—one gives priority to uniformity and the other to diversity. This is evident in the Standpoints of Certitude and Self-Assurance.
Dialectical thinking is the third alternative to both these ways of thinking in that it views the evolution of orderly thought as an ongoing process.
In the Standpoint of the Explorer, the dialectical thinker, “the process of finding and creating order in the universe is viewed as fundamental to human
life and inquiry.”31 If the statistics are right, less than 35 percent of the general population has attained this level of development. The constructivedevelopmental approach to adult education signals that “stages of development unfold in a specific invariant sequence, with each successive stage
transcending and including the previous one.”32 This calls for attending to
where the learners are developmentally in order to support them in their
own developmental trajectory. If a learner is in the Standpoint of Certitude,
the support he will need to move into the Standpoint of Self-Assurance will
be very different from that of a learner who is currently in Self-Assurance.
Otherwise, educators risk simply inducting or socializing learners into a
new conformity with its own set of values, loyalties, and language. Kegan
describes this risk as a challenge to our “teacherly capacities for generativity: Are we willing to support people’s moves to places we ourselves have
already been? Are we able to be good company on the road to fresh discoveries that are no longer fresh for us?“33
If theological reflection is, as one respondent claims, the “crucible” for
integration and if authentic theological reflection is to be undertaken as Killen
and de Beer claim from the standpoint of the explorer, then as educators, not
only must we posit the goal before the learners, we must have a sense of where
they currently are developmentally in order provide them with developmental learning opportunities to accompany them in the sequence of stages toward that goal. This is where the CDF can support our educational practices.
Conclusion
I have reported the findings of a survey exploring developmental issues in
theological field education and have presented aspects of the CDF as a way
of making more explicit links between formation for ministry and adult development theory. I have shown how CDF can re-frame some (but not all) of
the developmental issues noted in the survey. It is my hope that this article
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will offer readers a new perspective for thinking about the way we attend
to developmental learning in formation for ministry. It is also my hope that
this article might open the way to advancing this preliminary study in order
to make this framework more accessible to other educators in a variety of
processes of formation for ministry.
NOTES
1.
There is a growing field of studies on this connection, see M. Cecil Smith and Thomas Pourchot, eds., Adult Learning and Development: Perspectives from Educational Psychology (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Publishers, 1998); Carol Hoare,
ed., Handbook of Adult Development and Learning (New York: Oxford University Press,
2006).
2.
Carol Hoare, “Growing a Discipline at the Borders of Thought” in Hoare, Handbook of
Adult Development and Learning, 3.
3.
Lorraine Ste-Marie, Beyond Words: A New Language for a Changing Church (Ottawa,
Canada: Novalis, 2008).
4.
Otto Laske, Measuring Hidden Dimensions: The Art and Science of Fully Engaging Adults,
vol. 1 (Medford, MA: Interdevelopmental Institute, 2005) and Measuring Hidden Dimensions: The Art and Science of Fully Engaging Adults, vol. 2 (Medford, MA: Interdevelopmental Institute, 2008).
5.
Cynthia. D. McCauley, Wilfred H. Drath, Charles J. Palus, Patricia M. G. O’Connor,
and Becca A. Baker, “The Use of Constructive-Developmental Theory to Advance the
Understanding of Leadership,” The Leadership Quarterly 17 (2006): 634–653.
6.
Robert Kegan and Lisa Laskow Lahey, Immunity to Change: How to Overcome It and
Unlock the Potential in Yourself and Your Organization (Boston, MA: Harvard Business
Press, 2009).
7.
One of the reasons for the low response rate was the difficulty that some potential participants encountered in accessing the online survey software.
8.
Responses compiled for a workshop offered at the ATFE 31st Biennial Consultation,
see The Association for Theological Education at www.atfe.org.
9.
Garrett McAuliffe, “The Evolution of Professional Competence: in Adult Development and Learning” in Hoare, Handbook of Adult Development and Learning, 477.
10. See Wikipedia entry on Anaïs Nin: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ana%C3%AFs_
Nin. Italics added by author of this article.
11. Robert Kegan, In Over our Heads: The Mental Demands of Modern Life (Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press,1994).
12. Suzanne Cook-Greuter, Postautonomous Ego Development: A Study of Its Nature and
Measurement. Doctoral Thesis, Harvard Graduate School of Education (Ann Arbor,
MI: Bell & Howell, 1999), 35, cited in Laske, Measuring Hidden Dimensions, vol. 1, 30. I
have included the statistics for all 4 stages described in this article.
222
13. Martin Rovers, Who’s in the Seminary: Roman Catholic Seminarians Today (Ottawa, Ontario: Novalis, 1996). Although this study does not use the constructive-development
framework, a close look at the criteria for personal autonomy reveals enough similarities to justify this comparison. See Chapter 2, “The Theory of Personal Authority, or
Maturity,” 17–22.
14. McCauley, et al, The Leadership Quarterly 17 (2006): 636–637.
15. Laske, Measuring Hidden Dimensions, vol. 1, 108.
16. Otto Laske, Helping Clients Think Systemically: Tools for Cognitive Process Consultation,
Interdevelopmental Institute, 2007, slide 11.
17. Laske, Measuring Hidden Dimensions, vol. 2, 121.
18. Ibid., 129.
19. Patricia O’Connell Killen and John de Beer, The Art of Theological Reflection (New York:
Crossroads, 1996), 15.
20. Ibid., 1–19.
21. Adapted from Killen and de Beer, Art of Theological Reflection, 17.
22. Patricia M. King and Karen Strohm Kitchener, Developing Reflective Judgment: Understanding and Promoting Intellectual Growth and Critical Thinking in Adolescents and Adults
(San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass Publishers, 1994), 11.
23. Ibid., 11.
24. Killen and de Beer, The Art of Theological Reflection, 13.
25. Ibid., 15.
26. King and Kitchener, Developing Reflective Judgment, 16. This stance also holds for the
“Asserting” stage in James D. Whitehead and Evelyn Eaton Whitehead, Method in
Ministry: Theological Reflection and Christian Ministry (New York: Sheed & Ward, 1995),
76–85.
27. Lorraine Ste-Marie and Abigail Johnson, “The Impact of Constructivist Developmental Framework on Adult Learning in Ministry Leadership Formation,” Zeitschrift für
Wirtschaftspsychologie 12, no. 1 (2010): 76–83.
28. McCauley, et al, The Leadership Quarterly 17 (2006): 636.
29. Laske, Measuring Hidden Dimensions, vol. 2, 221: italics in original.
30. Michael Basseches, Dialectical Thinking and Adult Development (Norwood, NJ: Ablex
Publishing, 1984), 9.
31. Ibid., 11: italics in original.
32. McCauley, et al, The Leadership Quarterly 17 (2006): 636.
33. Kegan, In Over our Heads, 292–293.
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Appendix I
Online Questionnaire to Theological Field Educators
1.Name of institution:
2. Denomination of institution:
3. Denomination(s) served by institution:
4. Average size of annual cohort beginning seminary formation:
• 1 to 20
• 20 to 50
• 50 to 100
• Over 100
5. Geographic location of institution:
• USA
• Canada
• New Zealand
• Australia
• United Kingdom
• Other:
6. Geographic location served by institution:
• USA
• Canada
• New Zealand
• Australia
• United Kingdom
• Other (please specify):
7.In your experience, what has been the most pressing developmental need for candidates in ministry?
• Social
• Emotional
• Psychological
• Cognitive
• Spiritual
• Ethical/Moral
• Other:
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8. Please give examples of how these needs manifested?
9. What other language or term do you use to refer to students’
development in your program?
• Adult development
• Maturity
• Integrity
• Progress
10. Are there particular developmental needs that you would associate more with specific age groups?
• 25 to 35 years of age (please comment)
• 35 to 45 years of age (please comment)
• 45 and older (please comment)
• Not applicable
11. What protocol or procedures do you currently have in place to
assess a person’s readiness to begin theological field education?
• In-house assessment instruments/questionnaires (please specify types)
• Standardized assessments (please specify types)
• Profiles of Ministry
• Personal Interviews
12. Who is responsible for that initial assessment?
• Program Director
• Field Education Director
• Psychologist
13. Are the findings of the initial assessment shared with the theological field educator? If so, how?
14.Is there a procedure in place to follow student’ progress on their
developmental needs based on the initial or subsequent assessments? If so, please comment.
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15. How does your ministry program take into account the levels
of development of specific students in its program design and
delivery (ex. assign in-house mentors, individual growth assignments)? Where is the place of theological field education in that
process?
16. Who decides which learning strategies to implement in order to
address students’ developmental needs?
• Program Director
• Faculty Committee
• Field Education Director
• Other (please comment)
17. How are those strategies evaluated? Please comment.
18.In your experience, what is the connection between a student’s
development and his or her capacity for theological reflection?
19. Do the Adjudicating Committees in the denominations you
serve address the issue of adult development in their pastoral
leadership outcomes?
• No
• Yes ( please specify in which way)
• Not applicable
20. What measures are in place for assessing student’s development
at the completion of their program?
• Final assignments
• Faculty reports
• Exit interviews
21. Any other comments concerning student development issues.
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Appendix III
King and Kitchener’s Seven Stages of Reflective Judgment*
Epistemic Position:
“Where do I stand with respect to knowledge and truth?”
Pre-reflective Thinking: Stages 1, 2, and 3
Stage 1
View of Knowledge: Knowledge is assumed to exist absolutely and concretely.
Concept of Justification: Beliefs need no justification since there is assumed to be an
absolute correspondence between what is believed to be true and what is true.
Stage 2
View of Knowledge: Knowledge is assumed to be absolutely certain or certain
but not immediately available.
Concept of Justification: Beliefs are unexamined and unjustified by their correspondence with the beliefs of an authority figure (such as a teacher or parent).
Stage 3
View of Knowledge: Knowledge is assumed to be absolutely certain or temporarily uncertain.
Concept of Justification: In areas in which certain answers exist, beliefs are justified by reference to authorities’ views.
Quasi-reflective Thinking: Stages 4 and 5
Stage 4
View of Knowledge: Knowledge is uncertain and knowledge claims are idiosyncratic to the individual since situational variables.
Concept of Justification: Beliefs are justified by giving reasons and using evidence, but the arguments and choice of evidence are idiosyncratic.
Stage 5
View of Knowledge: Knowledge is contextual and subjective since it is filtered
through a person’s perceptions and criteria for judgment.
Concept of Justification: Beliefs are justified within a particular context by means
of the rules of inquiry for that context and by context-specific interpretations of
evidence.
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Reflective Thinking: Stages 6 and 7
Stage 6
View of Knowledge: Knowledge is constructed into individual conclusions about
ill-structured problems on the basis of information from a variety of sources.
Concept of Justification: Beliefs are justified by comparing evidence and opinion from different perspectives on an issue or across different contexts and by
constructing solutions that are evaluated by criteria such as the weight of the
evidence, the utility of the solution, or the pragmatic need for action.
Stage 7
View of Knowledge: Knowledge is the outcome of a process of reasonable inquiry
in which solutions to ill-structured problems are constructed.
Concept of Justification: Beliefs are justified probabilistically on the basis of a
variety of interpretive considerations, such as the weight of the evidence, the
explanatory value of the interpretations, the risk of erroneous conclusions, consequences of alternative judgments, and the interrelationships of these factors.
* Adapted and synthesized from Patricia M. King and Karen Strohm Kitchener, Developing Reflective Judgment: Understanding and Promoting Intellectual Growth and
Critical Thinking in Adolescents and Adults (San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass Publishers, 1994), 44–74.
ACPE Theory Paper
The Art of Supervision:
Canvas, Song, and Dance
Susan Freeman
Art invites us into a process of relating, interpreting, and experiencing that
evolves from moment to moment—much like the dialogical art of supervision. While there is a flow, spontaneity, and movement in the experience of
art, achieving excellence requires discipline and commitment. As artist, I
must be grounded in technical skills, yet informed by vision. Art’s capacity
to evoke multiple emotions, ideas, and experiences simultaneously allows
for the expression and integration of paradox and dichotomy. To engage the
expansive nuances in paradox and dichotomy is to appreciate the fullness of
human experience. Art has a special way of articulating and responding to
all the complexities of being a human. For this reason, I introduce each section of this theory paper with an art form; the canvas of theology, the music
(or song) of personality, and the dance of education.
One of the central tenets of Jewish aspiration is tikkun olam or “repairing the world.” To me, the heart of Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) is the
Rabbi Susan Freeman, ACPE Supervisor, VITAS Innovative Hospice Care, 9655 Granite
Ridge Dr., Suite 300, San Diego, CA 92123 (Emails: sfreeman100@gmail.com; Susan.Freeman-Graubart@vitas.com).
This article is an abridged version of the theory papers. The complete set of the theory
papers is available electronically from the author on request.
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notion of making the world a better place. In small steps taken—within the
peer group, in self-reflection, in mentor and supervisory relationships, in
pastoral encounters—tolerance, compassion, and understanding are increased. CPE provides potent opportunities for enhancing healing; for increasing love and peace in the world. In my work as a rabbi and hospice
chaplain, I have had opportunities to enhance my understanding of healing and wholeness, relationship, holiness, middot (virtues), ethics, the teachings of world religions, study, creativity, artistry, and more! CPE supervision
touches on and reinforces my idealism and spiritual values as well as the
idealism and spiritual values of those we supervise.
Theology
The Canvas of Human Experience
I always have been intrigued with Jackson Pollack’s art: splatters of paint—
random and intentional at the same time, on the same canvas. My fascination does not arise so much from the aesthetic appeal of his creations, but
from the way in which his canvases boldly assert chaos and order simultaneously. At times, I experience the harmonious tension as beautiful; other
times as unsettling.
Now, consider another kind of canvas. I met Shaun, a Roman Catholic seminarian in his 20’s, originally from Ireland, when he participated in a
summer unit of CPE. One of Shaun’s goals was to identify and express his
feelings better. In discussing a verbatim he presented, I encouraged Shaun to
tease out various emotions underlying his interaction with a patient. Together
we named them: calm, generous, comfortable, curious, affectionate, self-conscious, happy, and concerned—a veritable canvas of emotion. The reason I
carried out this intervention was to lift up the possibility that upon one “canvas”—that is, within one person, somehow “self-conscious and comfortable,”
and “happy and concerned” can exist in overlapping, harmonious tension.
Whether the “canvas” conveys Shaun’s emotions or Pollack’s release
of color, I highlight these examples to showcase spiritual authenticity. A coherent spiritual identity calls for integration of all we are. My theology calls
upon me to be present in the face of the paradoxes and dichotomies which
characterize human existence. At times I may embrace the paradoxes, other
times painfully endure them. My spiritual aspiration is the integration of
life’s spectrum of experiences, along with the courage and willingness to
stand humbly in the Mystery of the limits of human knowing.
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The Art of Supervision: CANVAS, SONG, AND DANCE
The Supportive Easel
I have labeled the theological resources supporting my ideas: the “easel.” I
draw primarily on Torah, in its broadest sense. Torah can refer either solely
to the “Five Books of Moses” or to all of Jewish writings—from biblical texts
and rabbinic insights through to the teachings of contemporary sages. Especially within the framework of contemporary resources, I draw not only
from those who write, but also from those who express themselves through
other mediums, such as music, art, and dance. Today, as it has been for centuries, Judaism embraces a lively interchange with the teachings of other
communities, engaging the wisdom in other religious traditions. I consider
study a sacred experience and obligation. Accordingly, I appreciate a comment suggesting that humans speak to God through prayer, and that God
speaks to us through study.1
A Jewish way of doing theology synthesizes commentary and ideas
from the totality of Jewish sacred literature. As one scholar summarizes:
“Systematic, even dogmatic practice, not systematic, dogmatic theology, lies
at the heart of Judaism. Rather than the philosophical rigor of Anselm and
Aquinas, the theology of the Jews is more the product of liturgy, commentary, sacred story, poetry, and aphorism.”2 Critical purchase is embedded in
Jewish learning and exegesis. That is, every encounter with a text challenges
the learner to choose or not choose to highlight a certain interpretation, decide how to apply the interpretation, and how one commentary/idea may
be linked to another.
Image and Soul-Breath: A Divine Paradox
I believe a fundamental dichotomy is at play in our human experience as
creatures of God. That is, we are created in God’s image, and we are infused
with Divine breath (Genesis 1:26–27; 2:7). Image and soul-breath, we are
tzelem Elohim and neshamah. Maimonides, the medieval Jewish philosopher,
associates tzelem with cognitive qualities; that is, “intellectual apprehension,
not the shape and configuration” of physical form.”3 Neshamah, our soulbreath relates to somatic experience, our affective qualities, and our aptitude
for connectedness. Our spiritual challenge is to harmonize and integrate our
God-given “image and breath” qualities within the canvas of our beings.
Judaism teaches that as “images of God,” humans are called by God to:
“Walk in My ways...” (Genesis 17:1). The Talmud offers some specifics, such
as clothing the naked, visiting the sick, comforting mourners, and burying
the dead. Another Rabbinic source guides human beings to emulate God’s
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mercy, graciousness, and patience. Other texts encourage emulating spiritual traits of holiness and purity. While qualitative nuances overlay these instructions, their essential thrust is on what to do. Such commitments and obligations arise from cognitive choices we make. As images of God, we claim
our uniquely human capacity for framing morality and meaning.
I am indebted to the ‘Torah’ of Martin Buber regarding neshamah, soulbreath. Our breath is dynamic, life-affirming as it moves inside and outside
of us, connecting our internal and external experiences. Buber’s theology
of ‘I-Thou’ relationships is all about connecting. That is, Buber illuminates
ways of connecting—to nature, other human beings, and God (the Eternal
Thou). We express our way of being, the quality and feel of who we are
through relationships. While I link tzelem with what we do—the thinking
that motivates our actions and decisions, I connect neshamah with how we
are, how we relate, and the quality of our interactions. As breath suffuses us,
so “the primary word ‘I-Thou’ can only be spoken with the whole being.”4
When we invest the whole of who we are, human relationships offer an opportunity for transcendence:
In every sphere in its own way, through each process of becoming that is
present to us we look out toward the fringe of the eternal Thou; in each
we are aware of a breath from the eternal Thou; in each Thou we address
the eternal Thou.5
‘I-Thou’ relationships frame a way of being wholly present and attuned to the
other with an open heart, mind, and spirit. While I value the Buber’s theology, I believe that the mystical notion of d’vaykut has a place on my canvas, as
well. “D’vaykut is the most intense love, such that you are not separated from
God for even a moment.”6 Thus, my theological canvas must accommodate
both spiritual relationship (‘I-Thou’) and mystical union (“d’vaykut”). While
Buber stresses relationship, my spiritual yearning leads me both to want to
relate to and to be at one with God. Accordingly, our most authentic glimpses of
Truth integrate paradox. In being present to truths, we draw closer to Truth,
in all its complex splashes and splatters of color, shape, and pattern. Willingness to live with the tensions, to embrace, and at times endure the paradoxes
allows for the experience of God as Oseh Shalom (“Maker of Peace”).
Thus far, I have named several spiritual paradoxes: order and chaos,
image and breath, relationship and mystical union. Other paradoxes may
challenge us at various times in our lives. For example, our circumstances
may call us to integrate and make peace with such dichotomies as: God is
Everything and God is One, brokenness and wholeness, exile and return, the
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holy and the mundane, justice and mercy, transcendence and immanence,
freedom and discipline, free will and ordained destiny, infinity and creation,
light and shadow, suffering and hope. In the next section, I examine a specific challenge involving brokenness and wholeness, and suffering and hope.
Theological Paradox in Supervision
Ken and Lois, both seminarians, were enrolled in their required one unit of
CPE. From the beginning, Ken made clear his goal of maintaining a healthy
sense of his own brokenness as a way of developing more empathy. He insisted
that not all instances of brokenness can be repaired. Rather, brokenness can still
exist within us even though we may function efficiently enough day-to-day.
Ken’s assertion that paradoxically, to be whole we must honor our brokenness
did not resonate well with Lois. Like Ken, Lois had been through especially
dark times in recent years. However, while Ken sought to integrate brokenness
within his wholeness, Lois shunned her dark and despairing feelings.
In the first weeks of the unit in CPE, she adamantly expressed her determination to be optimistic and hopeful. Such qualities didn’t erase her
pain, however. Lois’s pain emerged in ways which confused and complicated her CPE relationships. As supervisor, I gently confronted Lois with her
denial and encouraged her to surrender to the more complex, but authentic
process of acknowledging, and even embracing her suffering. My guidance
for Lois included helping her consider that the canvas of her being was capable of integrating both her hope and her suffering. In being true to herself,
Lois could and would honor God’s Truth. In fact, this authenticity would
enhance her formation and competence as a compassionate minister.
More on Suffering
The example above touches upon the complexities of suffering and the value
of providing support to students as they integrate their darker sides. The challenge Ken and Lois faced is consistent with the Israelites’ experience in the desert thousands of years ago. In the biblical narrative, Moses shatters the tablets
of God’s Testimony when he discovers his community worshiping a golden
calf (Exodus 32:19). Tradition maintains these broken pieces, remnants of a
shattered trust and despair, traveled in the Ark of the Covenant, along with
the second whole set of tablets. In order for the Israelites to move forward, they
had to accept that brokenness would always be a part of their story. In my supervisory role, I support students as they learn to gather their “broken pieces”
and bring them forward with any new covenants they may choose to compose
for themselves. I support them through affirmation, gentle confrontation, and
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compassionate presence. Doing so underscores objectives related to students’
pastoral formation: Who were they; who are they now; who will they become?
Another insight relevant to suffering is an interpretation of the biblical
Jacob’s experience. Jacob wrestles with a mysterious figure in the night. Similarly, those who suffer often struggle with a dark and threatening force. Just
as Jacob does not let the figure go until he wrests a blessing for himself, “sufferers have the opportunity to wrest from their situation a blessing, to find redemptive meaning and value in the experience. [Though] wounded in a body
that does not fully heal, his inner transformation has been so profound that
it engenders a new identity.”7 I incorporate these ideas in my supervision in
recognition of the need to support students as they struggle to wrest blessings
from their past while honoring wounds their suffering may have left. To make
meaningful strides in personal growth, many CPE students will face the challenge of integrating blessing and suffering.
Human beings still have choices, even within the confines of difficult circumstances. Deuteronomy urges its listeners to choose life and blessing over
death and curse. We do have choices in our expressions of love, the values
we adhere to, and how we come to know God. Similar themes of empowering ourselves in the face of suffering echo through the ages—from ancient
Scriptures and liturgy to Viktor Frankl’s logotherapy or the popular “Serenity
Prayer.”8 As pastoral educator, I work with students as they discern choices
they have made and encourage them to live courageously amidst the paradoxical tension of Mystery and meaning.
While certain interpersonal and spiritual ideals may be experienced in
I-Thou encounters, more mundane and conditional ways of relating in dayto-day life are inevitably what Buber calls I-It interactions. Relating on an I-It
level is still a necessary part of living. Nevertheless, Buber cautions that objectifying people can disintegrate to such a degree that they are no longer seen as
persons. He correlates our vulnerability to the harsher, dark sides of life with
human unwillingness to relate to each other personally. This theological idea
supports the spiritual care ideal of making oneself personally available.
In reflecting on evil, Buber uses the image that God sometimes hides
God’s face; or that at times of radical evil, God is eclipsed. These theological ideas provide insights on humility and limits. Many truths are not accessible to us, but we continue on, living our lives, connecting with each other
as best we can. Such theological humility is significant in the growth of CPE
students, and is integral in caring gracefully for patients and families. I elab-
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orate on themes of being in relationship with self, others, and the Transcendent in my personality theory.
The Interplay between Cultural Context and Theological Formation
Torah presents two versions of the Ten Commandments. The first instructs,
“Remember the Sabbath day...; whereas, the second states, “Observe the Sabbath day...” Jewish tradition reconciles the different words, purporting that
they were expressed in a single utterance (dibur echad). In witnessing Revelation, some listeners heard “Remember;” others heard “Observe.” Thus, when
we listen to each other’s response to the question, “What did you (do you)
hear?” we gain a fuller sense of what was spoken. That is, when various
voices reflect on truths, we are better able to discern a more expansive understanding of Truth.9
Being open to hearing more than one voice underlies the ideal I associate with Jewish listening. Attention to the paradoxes—to the “on the one
hand’s” and “on the other hand’s”—permeates not only my theology, but
worldview. Judaism teaches that many spiritual paths lead to Truth. The
embrace of democratic access and respect for pluralism informs my supervisory ideal. This idea is important in that the CPE seminar table needs to
make room for a wide spectrum of cultures and faith traditions. The canvas
created through dialogue and relationship must integrate dichotomies, such
as majority opinion and minority opinion, affirmation and confrontation, inclusion and exclusion, and so on.
Furthermore, the CPE experience may challenge students to appreciate
and respect theological paradoxes in other traditions. I’ve named several in
Judaism. A couple of examples from other traditions: Christians navigate the
paradox of a God who is both human and divine. Within Buddhism, an essential paradox relates to the definition of self. That is, Buddhism may reject
the notion of individual ego; yet, suggest our self-like entity may experience
repeated reincarnations. I dialogue with students, attending to integration
of individual, internal paradoxes, as well as those manifest in the group. To
me, these reconciliation efforts are spiritual work, connecting group members to a more whole and authentic vision of God’s truth and God’s peace.
God as Creator/Artist
I conclude this section where I began—with art. I believe we are created in the
image of God and that we are Divine breath. In calling God Creator, when we
tap into our own creative resources, we nurture the gift God uniquely shares
with humanity—the gift of creativity. God is Artist Extraordinaire. As we partic-
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ipate in the artistic process, we deepen our notion of God, Artist. CPE supervisors are a variety of artist, welcoming and affirming the gifts—colors, shapes,
and intricate patterns—of their students. They invite students to the open canvas of the CPE experience. As group members express their truths, the canvas
“illuminates itself.” The group tends to experience both exhilaration and frustration in the creative process. A journey that must integrate paradox tends
to encounter harmony, tension, and harmonious tension. Yet, the canvas the
group creates is intricate and intriguing, and understandably so—as it reflects
the complexity of God’s truth. The CPE ideal is that students, as they deepen
their self-knowledge and engage in open relationships with others, grow and
flourish as integrated chaplains. Moreover, the CPE experience supports and
challenges participants in their hope of integrity as human beings.
Personality Theory
The metaphor of music offers a way of understanding personality and its
multiple themes. Superimposed on the steady beat of our personalities are
the maneuvers of melody—bringing us high, pulling us down, taking us in
expected and unexpected directions. I love music because it is about connecting: notes connect to notes; a listener connects with a performer; singers connect with each other; a musician may even connect with God. The
experience of music moves me because it illuminates the vitality of feeling,
inviting me to better know the depths of who I am.
Connecting—being in relationship—is the most significant dynamic of
personality. This emphasis is congruent with my theology which highlights
the threefold rhythms of dialoguing: with ourselves; with others; and with
the Transcendent. I use these relational themes in my supervision to guide
learners toward pursuing lives of meaning, authenticity, and integration. I
understand integration to mean that separate personality elements and behaviors are harmonized into a coherent whole. Moreover, I affirm the aspiration of integrating the dichotomy of personality (beat) and the serendipity
of living (melody).
Understanding Human Nature as Grounded in Dialogue
My personality theory draws upon dialogical theorists, particularly Richard
Hycner, who in turn have been influenced by self-psychology. Following Buber, the dialogical theorist believes that the human person is fundamentally
relational, a theme prominent in both my theology and education papers.
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The developmental foundation of Hycner’s work, and correspondingly my theory, builds on self-psychology. I choose dialogical theory because
dialogical theorists reinforce my assumption that the human person has the
inherent capacity to be in meaningful relationship, and that humans by nature aspire to develop integrity and authenticity of self. Furthermore, dialogical theory
responds to an essential purpose of CPE, namely, the dynamic and ongoing
process of integrating our personality components, behaviors, and experiences as
these emerge in our relational interactions.
I embrace Hycner’s focus on three relational dimensions: self (intrapsychic); other (interpersonal); and Other (transpersonal). Hycner is in sync
with Buber and underscores the assumption that our relationships transcend the interhuman to include the Other. In each thou we address the
Eternal Thou. All three relational dimensions need to be brought into dialogue.
My theological understanding of persons underscores this personality need:
namely that self-actualization (self) and being in relationship (other/Other) are
viewed within a transcendent context, where questions of (ultimate) meaning arise.
Self-psychology provides the developmental foundation for dialogical
theory. As the developing self ‘dialogues’ with the world, it organizes its subjective experience in relation to certain developmental ‘self-object’ needs that
sustain the self. Developing a cohesive self-structure, according to Heinz Kohut, takes place on three axes: (1) the grandiosity axis which refers to a person’s ability to maintain self-esteem, expressed as one’s sense of self worth;
(2) the idealization axis which refers to the ability to develop and maintain
goals, ideals, and values; and (3) the alter ego-connectedness axis which refers
to the development of a person’s ability to communicate feelings, form intimate relationships, and become part of groups.10 Relational or ‘self-object
needs’ correspond to the three axes: mirroring—the need to feel affirmed,
accepted, and appreciated; idealizing—the need to experience oneself as being part of an admired and respected self-object; and twinship—the need to
experience similarity to others and be included in relationships with them.
These needs inform my dialogue with students. To illustrate twinship, I share
samples that document my own mistakes when I began as a CPE intern.
In an Open Seminar during a unit of CPE, Cathy shared her struggle
with overwhelming grief around patient losses. My supervisory goal was to
help her accept her grieving self, as discordant as that might feel, to integrate
that self-state into a fuller understanding of and appreciation for her complex
self. I mirrored the ‘worthiness’ of Cathy’s grief by inviting her to say goodbye
to the patient now, with the group as witnesses. She readily agreed. With twin-
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ship needs in mind, I asked group members to share how they ritualize grief/
loss (e.g., writing, talking with friends, lighting candles, prayer). Later in the
unit, I engaged idealization and twinship needs in modeling my coping with
grief (death of my brother-in-law during the unit) and shared my sadness.
My critique of self-psychology is that it does not emphasize sufficiently the
mutual embeddedness of the interpersonal elements influencing human development. Further, instead of self-psychology’s concept of a privileged, unitary
self, I see the individual as made up of a multiplicity of self-states. Each selfstate represents the experience of internalized relationships with a corresponding “self-representation, object representation, predominant affective tone, experience of somatic body-state, and level of cognitive organization.”11 Reinforced
constellations of self become recognized as the experience of ‘me’—the recognizable essence of who I am. In contrast, I may experience discordant self-object
internalizations as intrusive and even despised.12 Overall, varied experiences of
‘self’ constitute the beat, the underlying rhythm of our existence; our personality.
Assessments, Goals, and Interventions
A key objective in dialogue with students is to invite growing awareness of
the harmonies and discordant notes of ‘songs’ they bring with them, those
they compose as they participate in the CPE experience, and those they
imagine and hope to hear in their futures. As I work with students in clarifying their learning objectives, I develop supervisory strategies that encourage
integration. In supporting students along these lines, besides being available for self-object functions, I engage the following assessment categories:
vulnerability, dichotomous nuances, empathy, and separation/connection.
All have a significant relational dimension.
Vulnerability: an intimate part of interacting (see alter ego-connectedness
axis, above), is at play in CPE supervisory relationships. Awareness and sensitivity are important in this regard because of the emotionally significant
material accessible for processing when channels of vulnerability are open.
Through observation, attentive listening, and dialogue, I assess what’s going
on within a student and between us in our supervisory relationship. I encourage self-reflection and may provide resources or suggest supplemental consultation when significant emotional issues arise.
Dichotomous Nuances: I believe seemingly dichotomous personality nuances can co-exist in a healthy and balanced way. That is, “an array of seemingly conflicting human characteristics” must be painstakingly integrated
in one human being. 13 Dialogical theory supports this area of supervisory
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awareness, in that it purports that the mind can maintain a dialectic encompassing the paradox between “mutually exclusive elements which must
continue to coexist, even while negating each other’s existence.”14 Either/or
thinking does not capture the complexities of persons. For example, consider
freedom versus determinism, that is—whether we have full control over our
behavior and motives or our behavior is determined by outside forces beyond our control. To embrace freedom or determinism exclusively results in
a more superficial understanding of personality than if we allow both to be
operative in dialogue with each other.
Empathy: a third assessment category, is vital to the supervisory relationship and relevant to my personality theory. Hycner is influenced by selfpsychology’s emphasis on empathy as nurturing human growth and development. I affirm the need to be empathetic as I journey with my students. My
intention is to invite the kind of qualitative dialogue that allows for meaningful affirmation and challenge as a pastoral identity develops. My dialogic
perspective implies that effective communication often is the intervention.
Moreover, embodying openness, trust, and empathy models a way of being
which I believe is most conducive for establishing quality pastoral care relationships (parallel process).
Both separation and connection are natural, even essential attitudes in being human, existing in paradoxical tension. Hycner reflects:
Healthy living requires a rhythmic alternation between the two. The tension of connectedness and separateness is present from the moments of
conception. The fetus is profoundly flesh of the mother, yet also is bodying
toward separateness. This physical development is paralleled throughout
life in our psychological development. We are always seeking the balancing point between our separateness and connectedness to others. In fact, it
is the creative tension and integration of the two that is the hallmark of
healthy living.15
Similarly, the human condition is both revealed and hidden.16 In processing my choices for interacting with my students, I assess what kind of feedback may be most helpful, and respond accordingly.
At times, CPE students may resist growth-inducing dialogue. Mindy
made veiled references to the profoundly felt recent death of someone very
close to her. Her grief was brought to the surface as she ministered in the
hospice setting; and yet she did not feel prepared to dialogue openly about
the circumstances behind her feelings. I encouraged her to explore issues of
concern while respecting her vulnerability; reflected back to her the possibility of integrating the dichotomy of experiencing one’s own grief while being
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a comforter; empathized with what she was able to make accessible in our supervisory sessions in order to provide a safe space for further exploration of
grief issues; and tried to be sensitive to her need to honor her own rhythm of
alternating between remaining hidden and revealing her woundedness.
An Important Addendum to My Personality Theory
Equanimity involves being in touch with our emotions and longings, our
traits and tendencies, our achievements and goals. Equanimity also involves
an awareness—a grace and acceptance—of our limits. There are things we
can change in ourselves, growing edges whose boundaries we should try to
nudge. But there are aspects of ourselves that are the beat, the core, and the
unique beauty of who we are. To “march to one’s own drummer” is a familiar
cliché. The assumption—perhaps universal observation—is that each person
has a ‘drummer’ he/she marches to. I strive to challenge my students to maximize the stretch in their growing edges, while cultivating inner peace. Such
integration is the harmony that lovingly affirms them in learning to accept,
appreciate, and value the essence of who they are. And so we sing...
Education
Picture a dancer in mid-leap. She is suspended in the air, one leg stretched
before her, the other behind; opposite arms reaching forward and back. To
gaze at her is to share in a moment of exhilaration. The dancer masterfully
suffuses technical skills with a boldness of presence and spirit. She can risk
flight because she understands the ground; she knows her center. She can
apprehend a moment of velocity because she comprehends gravity and her
relationship to it. Drawn into the action, the observers, too, are uplifted as
we vicariously experience in that one fraction of a second—skill and spirit;
risk and clarity, and the possibility of integration.
My years of experience as a dance student, performer, and teacher provide me with fertile ground for my theory of learning and educating. Though
the education of dancer and chaplain are different in content, my experience in
both roles has shown me how the heart of the learning endeavor is surprisingly similar. The journey toward integration builds dimensionally. It begins with
openness to new experiences, ideas, and feelings, along with trust in the process. More challenging is the integration of dichotomies and paradoxes. In my
theology paper, I presented a paradigm for integrating spiritual dimensions
of dichotomy (e.g., brokenness into wholeness; Divine image and soul-breath)
and paradox (e.g., order and chaos; relationship and union). My personality
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theory paper explores integration of self. Here, I propose that the integration
of dichotomy and paradox is invaluable to educational theory, as well.
My theory asserts that successful learners engage, and effective educators
guide the learning experience through openness, trust, and integration. A key theorist for my learning theory is Malcolm Knowles, supplemented by Parker
Palmer and Donald Schön. I draw on Knowles’ views of self-direction and
life experience in the adult learning process. I affirm Palmer’s stress on the
importance of nurturing certain emotional and social qualities such as courage, truth, humility, integrity, love, and authenticity in order to develop an
open environment in which educational relationships thrive. Furthermore, I
appreciate how Palmer frames educational paradoxes. I resonate with how
Schön deciphers the educational process—his thoughts on knowing-in-action, reflection-in-action, educator transparency, and the use of dialogue. My
own synthesis envisions learning as a process grounded in openness and
trust, while integrating dichotomy and paradox.
My educational culture informs my theory, as well. Jewish learning is
oriented toward a cognitive, academic approach, wherein ‘on the one hand/
on the other hand’ debate flourishes. Jewish teaching does not rely on creed
or set doctrine—the consequence being a plurality of approaches, opinions,
and conclusions. Thus, consistent with my own learning culture and style, I
engage a breadth of ideas. These ideas serve as the theoretical foundation for
my supervision (similar to the dancer’s technical skills). Rigorous scholarship
inspires and liberates me, as it allows for a dynamic educational approach (a
‘boldness of presence and spirit’). My theory includes a commitment to ongoing learning and integration of new ideas (‘being grounded and centered’) in
order that I sustain the confidence to be spontaneous, tolerate ambiguity, and
celebrate diversity (‘velocity’). A dynamic approach fosters my ability to be
most authentic and enhances my effectiveness as a pastoral educator.
Openness and Trust: Learning begins with openness to new experiences,
ideas, and feelings, as well as to new relationships: to self, to others, the subject matter, and learning process. Such relationships thrive best in an environment of trust. Affirming students’ strengths, collaborating with them in
identifying growing edges and goals, and listening carefully to their stories,
experiences, struggles, and hopes forms the basis for trust.
Relationship to self: In deciding to enter an educational program, CPE students, like other adult learners, typically consider questions touching upon
their relationship to self. Knowles emphasizes self-direction in adult education. I draw upon Knowles’ theory in interviewing potential students, look-
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ing for their aspirations for realizing self-potential. Knowles points out the
importance of students’ questions, such as: “Will I be different; how will I be
changed by the learning; how will I grow; who will I become?” The andragogical model includes these adult learner assumptions: The need to know,
readiness to learn, orientation to learning, and motivation.17 As students learn
and grow, I believe their relationship to self becomes new. Renewal portends
change. As new aspects of self emerge (identity and competencies), these need
to be integrated into the old self.
Relationship to supervisor: Knowles’ theory focuses on individual goals
and mastery of specific content. At the same time, I am looking for sources
that complement Knowles’ emphasis and support my commitment to relational growth. For this reason, I am drawn to Palmer’s way of framing the
learning experience. Palmer’s view is that openness and trust between educator and learner is vital. I associate openness with a way of being with students
characterized by: affirmation, encouragement, honesty, humility, sincerity, enthusiasm, loving-kindness, and trustworthiness. Authenticity and sincerity in
my way of being can impart to learners ways they may be present with others.
My intention is that the relational growth students develop in our relationship
increasingly will inform their pastoral relationships (parallel process).
Relationship to peers (i.e., group theory): “We cannot learn deeply and
well until a community of learning is created...” writes Palmer.18 Here again,
Palmer’s relational approach is useful. Openness and trust in the group
supports learners in receiving affirmation that will nurture their courage
to grow; yet ensures that group members feel safe enough to challenge and
confront each other. Setting clear expectations and boundaries communicates that the group experience can be trusted. In addition, I strive to project
genuine caring to help set a tone of openness.
Consistent with my relational orientation, for group theory I focus
on supervisory strategies and ways of being. One strategy is illuminating the
‘here and now’ experience. For instance, I may remark on the energy level in
the group, tensions I sense, a hunch that group members are holding back,
or the tendency of group members to speak abstractly rather than concretely from personal experience. Attending to the here and now helps maintain
openness in the group. Also relevant to group theory is raising awareness
in how dichotomies play themselves out in the peer group. I invite students
to expand options in integrating these: solitude and community; cohesion/
consensus and conflict; speech and silence; and spontaneity and structure.
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Integrating Dichotomy and Paradox
Palmer, along with Schön, appreciates dichotomy and paradox. Schön’s ‘paradox of learning a really new competence’ states that students “cannot at first
understand what [they need] to learn, can learn it only by educating [themselves], and can educate [themselves] only by beginning to do what [they do]
not yet understand.”19 Palmer also has a great appreciation for paradox.20 My
interest in dichotomy and paradox includes, but also extends the areas addressed by these theorists. In my experience, to engage a full range of experiences, feelings, and ideas gives greater access to truth—that is, the reality
of the universe and who we are in it. The image I used to begin this section
reinforces this notion. I describe a dancer, able to take risks because of her
strength, skills, and confidence in knowing her center. Her centeredness allows for nuanced expressions of truth. Our dancer integrates skill and spirit/
spontaneity; flight and groundedness; velocity and gravity; risk and clarity.
Art forms, such as dance, have a unique ability to illumine truth. The
abstract framework, with its capacity to evoke multiple emotions, ideas, and
experiences simultaneously, allows for the expression of paradox. Translating
this idea to CPE, I ask questions and make observations encouraging students
to explore the significance of dichotomy and paradox. My intention is to help
them access a greater range of skills and use of self. Moreover, doing so will
enhance their authenticity, their truth.
Relationship to Self: Schön’s “reflection-in-action” is consistent with my
embrace of the learning process in CPE. Ideally, learning inspires growth
in self-potential through the dichotomous experiences of transformation and
affirmation. The new action emerging from ‘action/reflection/feedback’ encourages movement toward one’s higher self or transformation. Affirmation
comes with learners’ growing confidence and competence. Other significant
dichotomies I address with students are apprehension and comprehension; and cognitive and affective learning, that is, thoughts and feelings. My
awareness of these dichotomies allows me to target strategies for students’
growth and development. For instance, I may challenge one student to tune
into her emotional response to a given situation; and another cognitively,
asking him to think about ethical implications.
Relationship to Supervisor: I strive to model willingness and courage to
be present and attentive to tensions inherent in paradox and dichotomy. I
concur with Palmer’s attention to relational qualities. I am especially conscious of the sensitive balance between intimacy and vulnerability—qualities which ideally evolve in sync with each other. As intimacy deepens, my
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intention is to honor, attend to, and be mindful of feelings of vulnerability that accompany the process. If vulnerability seems to be getting ahead,
such that feelings of closeness are experienced as threatening, then intimacy
needs to slow down. The relationship needs more time and/or more space
to rebalance and re-harmonize so that it can grow in an integrated way.
Grace; sensitivity; intuition; an ability to note, track, and feel the way energy
moves—physical, emotional, and spiritual energy—support efforts to harmonize the dimensions of a relationship as it evolves.
Relationship to Peers: A paradox: In knowing others, we may become
more known to ourselves and vice versa. Or, as Parker Palmer puts it, “My
inward and invisible sense of identity becomes known, even to me, only as it
manifests itself in encounters with external and visible ‘otherness.’”21
I ask learners to become keenly observant of others, themselves, and relational dynamics. I do so to encourage students to sharpen their assessment
abilities and enhance self-understanding. I am mindful of raising awareness in
how dichotomies play themselves out in the peer group. I invite the group to
expand options in integrating especially these: solitude and community; cohesion/consensus and conflict; speech and silence; and spontaneity and structure.
Concluding Thoughts on Education
Just as the heart of the learning experience is surprisingly similar—for chaplain, dancer, and other learners—so is the reward: the attendant joy and freedom of mastery, understanding, and authenticity. While the dancer’s leap is
a proclamation of joy and freedom, for the student chaplain, joy and freedom come with the mastery of skills congruent with pastoral competence;
the deepening of understanding congruent with pastoral reflection; and the
embodiment of authenticity congruent with pastoral formation and identity.
Notes
1.
Comment attributed to Rabbi Louis Finkelstein, head of the Jewish Theological Seminary, 1940–1972.
2.
Jan Katzew, “From Other to Brother,” CCAR Journal: The Reform Jewish Quarterly
(Spring 2005): 30.
3.
Moses Maimonides, The Guide of the Perplexed, Vol. 1, Shlomo Pines, trans. (Chicago,
IL: The University of Chicago Press, 1963), 22.
4.
Martin Buber. I and Thou (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1958), 3.
5.
Ibid., 6.
244
6.
Sefer Haredim quote from Chapter 9, #10 by Yitchak Buxbaum, “D’vekut,” in Jewish
Spiritual Practices (Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson Inc., 1990), 3.
7.
Myriam Klotz, “Wresting Blessings: A Pastoral Response to Suffering,” in Dayle A.
Friedman, ed., Jewish Pastoral Care: A Practical Handbook, 2nd ed. (Woodstock, VT: Jewish Lights Publishing, 2005), 4.
8.
By Reinold Niebuhr, 1943: “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot
change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
9.
Zohar Aviv presented comparable ideas at Congregation Beth El, La Jolla, CA, Spring
2006.
10. Erez Banai, Mario Mikulincer, and Phillip R. Shaver, “’Selfobject’ Needs in Kohut’s
Self Psychology: Links with Attachment, Self-Cohesion, Affect Regulation, and Adjustment,” Psychoanalytic Psychology 22, no. 2 (Spring 2005): 224–260.
11. Mary Gail Frawley-O’Dea and Joan E. Sarnat, The Supervisory Relationship: A Contemporary Psychodynamic Approach (New York and London: The Guilford Press, 2001), 52.
This passage refers to the work of J. M. Davies.
12. Ibid.
13. Richard Hycner, Between Person and Person: Toward a Dialogical Psychotherapy (Highland, NY: The Gestalt Journal Press, Inc., 1991), 11.
14. Frawley-O’Dea, and Sarnat, The Supervisory Relationship, 52. This passage quotes S.
Pizer, “The Distributed Self: Introduction to Symposium on ‘The Multiplicity of Self
and Analytical Technique,” Contemporary Psychoanalysis 32 (1996): 502.
15. Richard Hycner and Lynne Jacobs, The Healing Relationship in Gestalt Therapy: A Dialogic/Self Psychology Approach (Gouldsboro, ME: The Gestalt Journal Press, 1995), 8.
16. Hycner, Between Person and Person, 51.
17. Malcolm Knowles, Elwood F. Holton, III, and Richard A. Swanson, The Adult Learner,
6th ed. (Burlington, MA: Elsevier, Inc., 2005), 64–68.
18. Parker J. Palmer, To Know as We Are Known: Education as a Spiritual Journey (San Francisco, CA: HarperSanFrancisco, 1983), xvi.
19. Donald A. Schön, Educating the Reflective Practitioner (San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass
Publishers, 1987), 93.
20. Parker J. Palmer, The Courage to Teach (San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass Publishers,
1998), 63. See also: Parker J. Palmer, The Promise of Paradox: A Celebration of Contradictions in the Christian Life, Reissue ed. (San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass Publishers, 2008).
21. Palmer, The Courage to Teach, 63.
AAPC Theory Paper
Cheston’s “Ways Paradigm” Applied
to Pastoral Counseling Supervision
Desmond Buhagar
This paper will utilize a broad-based paradigm for the appropriation of a
general counseling identity, and adapt its use for pastoral counseling supervision. In her article, “A New Paradigm for Teaching Counseling Theory
and Practice,”1 Sharon E. Cheston proposes a template which is ideally suited for a wide-range of applications in counseling sub-specialties. It provides
a standardized way of transmitting the essential nature and constitutive elements of counseling in general, while respecting the unique contributions
and aims of pastoral counseling in particular.
Cheston’s “Ways Paradigm” organizes counseling theory and practice
around three foundational principles, which she suggests, play an underlying role in virtually all counseling philosophies and modalities. These are:
(1) a way of being with and for clients; (2) a way of understanding and interpreting clients’ worldviews, and; (3) a way of intervening in their lives. The
aim of this paradigm is to assist counselors “in sorting out the similarities
and differences between the counseling theories and allows them to eclectiDesmond Buhagar, SJ, Lecturer in Pastoral Counselling and Marriage & Family Therapy,
Regis College, University of Toronto, 100 Wellesley St. West, Room 202, Toronto, Ontario.
Canada, M5S 2Z5 (Email: hagar10@fastmail.fm).
This is a condensed version of Reverend Buhagar’s AAPC theory paper. For the full text, contact
the author.
246
Cheston’s “Ways Paradigm” applied to pastoral supervision
cally use various theories and techniques without losing the consistency and
cohesiveness of working within a structure”2 The integration of counseling
theory and practice into an eclectic treatment approach is important because
of the synergy of strengths that can be achieved when various established
schools of thought are combined.3 Such an approach is also well-suited to a
contemporary view of pastoral counseling which is multi-culturally sensitive, and multi-faith oriented.4 As we recognize from the American Association of Pastoral Counselors Code of Ethics, clinicians and supervisors have
a responsibility to adapt their therapeutic approaches to a wide range of
clients, faith traditions, cultural backgrounds, and ways of life.5 Although
eclecticism is not without its pitfalls, it seeks to integrate multiple theoretical
perspectives into a unified whole by attempting to avoid theoretical partisanship.6 This “ways paradigm” does not excuse the random use of differing theoretical and clinical approaches willy-nilly, but provides a way for
clinicians to formulate and structure their own unique pastoral counseling
identities through a common clinical language, in an ethically responsible
and professionally accountable manner.
Research suggests that most counselors already embrace an eclectic
stance in their counseling practices.7 As Cheston points out, “all theories and
their corresponding practices assist clients in changing to meet their personal
goals, however, each of these theories’ proponents claims that their position
is the most efficacious.”8 My purpose is not to debate the inherent value of the
many forms of counseling currently in use, rather to use Cheston’s ways paradigm to illustrate my appropriation of these three essential components—
way of being, way of understanding, and way of intervening and to share
the benefits of this approach with readers. A central goal of this paper is to
identify pastoral counseling and supervision as distinct practices within the
field, and to emphasize the need to foster the clinical identity of supervisees
within the context of its perduring spirit, values, and traditions. Throughout
this paper, reference will be made to Denise (her name has been changed), for
the purpose of illustrating my supervisory work. Let us first take a moment
to see how Cheston defines way of being, way of understanding, and way of
intervening as educational tools for the counseling profession.
Cheston’s Ways
By “way of being,” Cheston refers to the counselor’s presence in the room
with the client, which is intimately connected to the identity of the counselor
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as a person—how they express empathy and respect for clients, the values
they hold, and the way they maintain appropriate boundaries. Virtually every
known counseling theory makes reference to a way/mode of establishing an
atmosphere of acceptance and support whereby change can occur.9 Whether
one adopts a psychodynamic or cognitive-behavioral perspective, for example, there are distinct ways in which counselors present themselves and relate
to clients in order to facilitate therapeutic change. In some cases, this stance is
more passive and observing, and in others, more decisive and engaged.
By “way of understanding,” Cheston refers to the body of counseling
knowledge that explains personality theory and structure, normal and abnormal human development, and the different ways that people change.10
Additionally, this includes various ways of conceptualizing the conscious
and unconscious mind, human behavior, and the formation of belief systems.
A way of understanding operates on the premise that one’s sense of reality
is, by and large, a social and intersubjective construction, interpreted through
the lenses of mind, as information is gathered and processed. It also refers to
the manner in which individuals “assimilate culture, think about themselves,
interact with others, introject family values, develop symptoms of psychopathology, emote, and behave…”11 Naturally, one’s therapeutic preferences are
greatly determined by the particular school(s) of thought that one has principally been exposed to throughout the course of clinical training.
Last, Cheston describes the “way of intervening” as “the work” of therapy. Theories of counseling generally include the ways that change is expected to occur, and include a set of techniques by which the counselor aims
to enhance a client’s mental health and happiness. A way of intervening also
refers to “the means by which a counselor interrupts the client’s cycle of dysfunction and allows for the processing of healthier alternatives of thinking,
feeling, and behaving.”12 Intervening may be conceptualized as the concrete
application of a particular theoretical orientation within one’s preferred modality of care, which may or may not have a primary pastoral focus. In one
instance, it may manifest in the bringing forth of various insights relative to
a deeper reflection on a client’s early childhood experiences. In another, it
may focus on modifying stultifying patterns of thinking or behaving in their
lives. Whichever way of understanding one chooses, it undoubtedly comes
with its own theory of how people actually change, including its own set of
best practices in terms of overcoming such things as clients’ ambivalence,
fears, or troubling behaviors.
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The “Ways Paradigm” and Pastoral Identity
An important question for pastoral practitioners who have adopted
Cheston’s paradigm is whether or not all three modes of treatment need to
be pastorally oriented in order for one to claim a pastoral identity. This writer suggests that at least one of these modes ought to contain a clear pastoral
component. For many pastoral supervisors, this dimension is characterized
by an openness to the sacred dimension of being, which is often manifest as
a longing for transcendence in the client. This does not preclude the possibility that all three modes of the ways paradigm could be pastorally derived
as well. My overriding sense is that when pastoral educators attempt to explain what is distinctive about pastoral counseling, they are almost always
referring to a way of being with clients. This makes sense when we begin to
consider how pastoral counseling interns are frequently drawn to the profession out of a genuine desire to be pastorally and spiritually present to others, guided by deep convictions of the value of religious faith, coupled with
a desire to serve. For Christian counselors, a pastoral way of being is ideally
modeled on the person and ministry of Christ as the compassion of God.13
Notwithstanding, many pastoral counseling programs are beginning to incorporate a wider range of religious traditions into their theoretical outlook
and approach to clinical formation.
Pastoral supervisors, then, have a dual responsibility not only for fostering a sense of the sacred in their work, but for advocating for breadth
and depth in their educational approaches.14 It is my hope that supervisorsin-training will be able to articulate their professional identity based upon
a depth appropriation not only of pastoral traditions, but also of their preferred forms of secular psychotherapy currently in use. This concern for professional enrichment and integration has been a focus of my supervisory
work with the intern Denise from the outset. Part of my adaptation to her
personality and learning style involved an intake interview and questionnaire, the preparation and review of her genogram, and establishing a formalized supervision contract. All of these helped me to formulate an approach which could be tailored to her particular needs and level of training.
Current literature on the ethical practice of supervision emphasizes the
need to delineate the practice of counseling from the practice of supervision as distinct domains of service within the profession, such that, “therapeutic interventions with supervisees should be made only in the service of
helping them become more effective with clients: to provide therapy that
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has broader goals is ethical misconduct.”15 This essential insight highlights
that educators may be unconscious of some of the important distinctions between direct clinical work and supervisory practice, and that they may need
to reflect more deeply on the kind of interventions they do, and why. In the
words of Barry Estadt:
The impact of the personal qualities of the counselor in the therapeutic
relationship makes it inevitable that the counselor’s personal therapeutic
issues will emerge within the context of supervision. While individual
therapeutic issues can be addressed in the relationship to a given worksample, extensive focus on the counselor’s therapeutic issues in supervision will side-track and contaminate the supervisory process.16
As I will discuss in a subsequent section, doing therapy with supervisees like Denise is quite different from being a collaborative supervisor,
namely, inviting them to explore and take up the mantle of their own pastoral counseling identity and practice. Nonetheless, the forum of supervision
itself can be a safe place where supervisees’ personal issues may surface, and
then be appropriately processed and integrated. A common example of this
is to regularly consider and discuss supervisees’ countertransference with
both clients and supervisors alike. As her supervisor, I have been privileged
to walk alongside Denise through her developmental process as a counselor
for over two years. Because of her openness and trust, we have been able to
address some sensitive, personal issues as they have impinged on her work.
From this experience, I have come to realize that “collaborative supervision
centers around reciprocal visibility and the notion of encouraging both space
for the ideas and feelings of therapists and vigilance regarding ethical and
professional issues on the part of supervisors.”17 My conviction is that clinicians and supervisors should be able to name, claim, and articulate their own
personal configurations of these ways, which allow for greater self-awareness and self-communication with other counseling professionals.
Way of Being
My own experience as a pastoral counselor embodies a way of being present
to another person by recognizing and honoring the sacred in them, even if
they do not recognize it within themselves. So, my way of being as a pastoral clinician and supervisor involves the instrumentality of my personhood,
with its various strengths and weaknesses. In this view, pastoral presence
is intimately linked with one’s humanity, from both an anthropological and
spiritual perspective. Experiencing a sense of the sacred in the process of
250
pastoral counseling and supervision is for me the hallmark and distinctive
feature of our craft. This sense of the sacred may be realized through persons,
relations, or even though the use of space, whereby an appreciation for the
abiding presence of divinity within others is experienced and apprehended.
As a Roman Catholic priest, this may summed up in the belief that the
human person participates in the light and power of the divine Spirit, and
that by their power of reason, s/he is capable of understanding the order of
things established by the Creator.18 From this viewpoint, we may see how human nature serves to elevate our work into the realm of a spiritual practice,
whereby the sacredness of all persons is acknowledged and respected. This
awareness provides orientation, not only to one’s therapeutic and supervisory relationships, but also imbues them with healing potentiality. From this
theological perspective, human beings are viewed as embodied spirits, which
celebrates the fact that, “human life is sacred because from its beginning it
involves the creative action of God and it remains forever in a special relationship with the Creator, who is its sole end.”19 This primary existential and
spiritual reality comes from God, is immutable, and allows for personal conversion and transformation to take place. In the words of Ann Belford Ulanov, “Pastoral counselors, unlike other mental health professionals, make a
conscious and explicit acknowledgment of the sacred as part of the suffering
and healing process of clinical work.”20 So, my aim when sitting with supervisees is to engage in a spiritual practice. This may also be described as
facilitating the field of the sacred. As a supervisor, this evokes a kind of threeway listening process, similar to what happens in spiritual direction contexts.
First, carefully listening to the words and intentions of the supervisee; second, listening to my own heart, and third; listening to how God may be informing our work. This kind of interior listening and theological reflexivity
necessitates openness to being guided and directed by God, who animates
and contains the process. While supervisees like Denise are not intended to
be the recipients of direct healing interventions, their lives can be, and often
are, transformed by an immersion into the sacred field and process of pastoral counseling supervision, which in itself is a distinct form of pastoral care.
A pastoral way of being is also ecological, in that the environment of
persons, places, and events are honored as sacred as well.21 Another way of
explaining this is that the presence of God/Spirit resides, and is operative in
all creation.22 What is more, this abiding spirit is holy, having the capacity not
only to empower us, but to facilitate and activate human healing and wholeness from within the human family. From a Christian theological and kenotic
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perspective, “...it is Christ who, as the head of the Body, pours out the Spirit among his members to nourish, heal, and organize them in their mutual
functions, to give them life, send them to bear witness, and associate them to
his self-offering to the Father and to his intercession from the whole world.”23
So being pastoral involves a three-fold reverencing of the sacred in all things—
first in persons, second in relations, and third, in all creation, which constitutes an Ignatian spiritual perspective.24
Emerging from this, a pastoral supervisor is also called to provide a sacred holding environment, whereby supervisees may embrace the role of divinity, especially in the midst of their clients’ suffering and pain. This could
also be explained as an appropriation of Winnicott’s holding environment
adapted to pastoral care and counseling.25 While the word pastoral is a specifically Christian designation, it is now more appropriately applied to all
faith traditions, whether one envisions the sacred as a personal God or an
impersonal transcendent force. What distinguishes a pastoral way of being
from other forms of therapeutic care is that it is not simply defined by theories, techniques, or even the therapeutic relationship, but is imbued with a
spirit of pastoral intentionality, by inviting and enlivening that field of the sacred into our work. Being pastoral signifies a disposition of heart which is
hospitable, compassionate, humanistic, inclusive, and open to mystery. It is
not Pollyannaish, but at times challenges supervisees beyond their perceived
limitations, and asks them to be appropriately assertive when issues or concerns could impede their healing work with their clients.
The Case of Denise
When I began working as a supervisor with Denise, she was an intern at an
outpatient substance abuse treatment program. From the outset, it became
evident that she needed a firm base of support as she struggled to adapt to a
challenging clinical population. As time progressed, she began to recognize
her own counter-transferential struggles in working with disenfranchised clients. As she was learning to be with their feelings of defeat and humiliation,
she was also learning how not to be overcome by such feelings, which could
at times strike a common chord within her own life. Being able to share such
feelings with me served to normalize the situation in a safe, non-judgmental
context. Denise also recognized her need for clearer intersubjective and relational boundaries, so as to avoid taking on clients’ lives and experiences as
though they were her own, and then over-compensating in her interventions.
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Throughout our work together, I witnessed the supervisee’s dual maturation
process involving both intersubjective and interpersonal self-differentiation,
where she was able to accept her need for better self-boundaries with fragile
and sometimes manipulative clients.
A pastoral way of being is not naïve about the existence of good and evil
in the world or in the lives of people, and seeks to amplify the good while diminishing the evil, for the sake of greater spiritual and existential freedom.26
This can be a beguiling task, which demands a discerning heart—a heart
which is wise and loving, humble and reliant on grace and providence.
The supervisor wants to enable growth in peace and freedom. To do this,
the supervisor needs a gift for discernment, the ability to discriminate…
the supervisor must decide what to pursue, what to let go, in all that the
supervisee presents.27
One important objective for me in working with Denise was her need to
have clearer relational standards in situations where she was becoming enmeshed with clients, even if she feared being disliked by them. It meant
reassuring her that she was not being insensitive by sticking close to her
agency’s policy on drug and alcohol screening, or to be more astute about
the wiles of some court-appointed clients. Denise was learning how to stand
on her own clinical feet, and to resist the need to be appreciated by others.
Paradoxically, her clients’ issues became an opportunity for healing grace
to occur for her, insofar as she was challenged to develop greater emotional
and relational autonomy from them. Part of my role as supervisor was to
support and challenge her best intentions, but also to promote a more resilient and mature clinical stance.
Next, it is worth emphasizing that as pastoral supervisors, we dispose
ourselves to the action of grace,28 operating in supervisees like Denise.
A supervisor, who, with God, graces with unconditional acceptance,
stands faithfully with, affirms gifts for the sake of others, can mediate for
the supervisee new power and energy in very complex, stressful work…
The supervisor is active witness, instrument to the movement of Mystery
within the supervisory relationship.29
Being a pastoral supervisor means being open to the transformational
horizon within interns, whereby one seasoned clinician shares responsibility for the formation of a less seasoned one. In the case of Denise, it became
clear that she too was growing and healing in tandem with her clients, so it
was important to me that she feels accepted in light of certain vulnerabilities
in her personal history, without feeling judged or diminished by them. This
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form of mentoring is intended to foster a genuine pastoral identity, and ultimately to equip the intern for an empowering and healing ministry, inspired
by the Gospels.30 Pastoral counseling supervision, as a way of being, recognizes that we never work in isolation, but rather, as part of a faith community. “Whereas religious counseling and some secular therapies commonly
teach particular practices and/or systems of belief, pastoral counseling is
identified by its representation of the community that authorizes it, through
a relationship to a pastor accountable to that community.”31 As suggested
earlier, a pastoral way of being is sacred holding, and from a faith-based,
object-relations perspective, “one may talk about the holding environment
within the spiritual dimension.”32 Pastoral counseling supervision, therefore, is intended to model this optimal, beneficent containment, so that as
representatives of God’s compassion and mercy, supervisors may extend to
interns what they hope will also be practiced in their clinical care of others.
God’s own self, unconditionally offered, creates space for the human to
change and grow. God’s own self welcomes the human heart home. This
welcome, hesed, unconditional love, is undoubtedly the most healing factor in any simply human or professionally helping relationship. In offering this kind of open, receptive care, the supervisor can act as instrument
of God who graces the supervisee, and through the supervisee’s unconditional acceptance in turn, God who graces the client/patient.33
The quality of love and care in the supervisory room can be a palpable
experience of God’s presence which guides and directs the formation process. This leads into my operative metaphor for my way of being as a supervisor—to be “a Held-Holder”—one held by God, and holding the lives and
concerns of others. So as clinicians-in-training experience the sacred holding
of their work by their supervisor, they in turn, can become sacred holders/
containers of their clients’ lives and concerns. To be a “held-holder” defines
my pastoral identity and the role that I wish to impart as a clinician and educator. As Winnicott explained, we do not need to be “perfect” holders, but
only “good-enough” ones.34 So, from a pastoral perspective, the principle
of sacred holding is now extended beyond merely secular object-relations
theory to the realm of the Spirit. As ministering persons, we now become
instruments of God’s divine holding.
Way of Understanding
My way of understanding as a pastoral counselor and supervisor finds its
home in integrative family systems therapy.35 Among the various forms
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of integrative therapy, my approach is systemic-constructivist.36 This means
utilizing a range of family therapy modalities spanning from the transgenerationalism of Murray Bowen, through the structural insights of Salvador
Minuchin, all the way to the post-modern narrative approach of Michael
White. While this way of understanding supports a traditional sense of the
family, it also recognizes that what we mean by family is, to some extent,
culturally determined and time-bound. An integrative family systems approach as a way of understanding brings together the diverse elements that
inform supervisees’ or clients’ often pluralistic, cultural contexts. Family
systems theory awakens us to the fact that we are not simply autonomous
beings living in a social bubble, but that we are more accurately carriers of
our family’s collective memories, who live out of various relational patterns
and unconscious processes on a daily basis.37
One important way pastoral clinicians come to understand others is by
developing a deep capacity for empathic joining. Empathic joining may be
described using the instrumentality of one’s personhood in order to resonate
with the experience of another, as the strings of an open harp sympathetically vibrate as an orchestra plays. An integrative family systems perspective
encourages supervisees to move beyond the limitations of their worldviews
and cultural conditioning, by becoming open and curious about clients’ beliefs and values, and finding ways to work with them both spiritually and
psychologically.38 Perhaps it is this openness to, and genuine wonder about
others, that most clearly defines our work.
Adopting an integrative way of understanding calls supervisors to respect and work from the theoretical starting points of supervisees, while facilitating cogency and congruency in their case conceptualizations and treatment
plans. This accompaniment process allows them to develop intellectual and professional integrity by encouraging them to explain why they do what they do.
Fostering cogency and congruence for pastoral counseling interns means being open to a wide array of theoretical models which may include psychodynamic, family systems, and/or constructivist modalities, to name a few.
Informed by the constructivist assumption that therapists never fully understand a client’s reality, supervisors help therapists recognize the constraints imposed when relying on a limited range of perspectives and
strategies for assessment and treatment. In terms of assessment, supervisors help therapists view their evolving clinical hypotheses as partial
explanations, which highlight the intrapsychic, physical, and/or interpersonal domains for the client.39
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Using integrative family systems as a way of understanding allows supervisees’ sufficient space for their clinical identities to gestate and mature, by
providing a safe holding environment for this development to take place.40
In this way, the supervisor operates like a spiritual midwife. In concrete terms,
this means assisting interns with the simultaneous appropriation of their
personhood and professional practice. Nancy Ramsey supports this integrative analogy beautifully, when she writes:
Midwifery is a valuable metaphor because in its recognition of the expertise of the midwife, it does not diminish the one in labor as gifted and also
responsible…Midwife, for example, is appropriate for those occasions in
which we collaborate with person who are discerning gifts and who need
our support in bringing those to fruition…Midwifery does provide real
help in our efforts to move from unilateral to relational power. This is
a power that seeks to empower others while acknowledging one’s own
labor.41
In the case of Denise, this meant deepening her appreciation for objectrelations theory as her preferred way of understanding and intervening with
clients. From this starting point, she was encouraged to do client genograms
from an attachment perspective, and to sensitize herself to any number of
possible transference and countertransference issues. Pamela Cooper-White
describes the inestimable value of exploring the counter-transferential feelings of supervisees, as they learn to integrate and use their personhood as
an instrument of healing.42 Arising from this is perhaps the greatest contribution of family systems therapy into the domain of pastoral counseling,
namely an awareness of the phenomenon of isomorphism.
For systems therapists, isomorphism refers to the ‘recursive replication’
(Liddle, Breunlin, Schwartz, and Constantine, 1984) that occurs between
therapy and supervision. The focus is interrelational and not intrapsychic.
As Liddle and Saba (1983) suggested, the two fields (therapy and supervision) constantly influence and are influenced by each other…The supervisor who is aware of this process will watch for dynamics in supervision
that reflect the initial assessment that the supervisor has made about what
is transpiring in therapy.43
Becoming aware of isomorphisms attunes us to the kinds of parallel
processes which may be taking place not only at clinician-client level, but
also at the supervisor-intern level as well. In so doing, we become more
aware of any number of transferential pitfalls. Since no supervisor comes
without presuppositions, cultural or clinical biases, part of our responsibility to supervisees is to be transparent about them. When we participate in
256
an intern’s work, we become an implicit part not only of their own family
system, but of the systems of their clients as well. This complex web of interrelationships carries potential benefits and risks in terms of how supervisors
and interns interact. Just as counselors run the risk of unwittingly playing
into the projected expectations of clients, so too, supervisors invariably become part of the transferential worlds of clinicians-in-training.
To sum up, we may say that a pastoral way of being is simply the first
stage in the development of a three-fold clinical identity, and that it is equally important to develop one’s way of understanding and intervening. It is also
reasonable to say that from a pastoral counseling perspective, one’s way of
being is ultimately grounded in pastoral presence and intentionality, which distinguishes it from all other approaches to psychotherapy. By way of extension, it is also possible develop a distinctively pastoral way of understanding and intervening with clients as well. While one’s way of understanding
and intervening may be drawn from a wide body of evidence-based modalities, this may not be necessary in the development of a more fulsome
pastoral paradigm. What is important here is to remember that not all three
modes of Cheston’s paradigm need to be pastoral for someone to call themselves a pastoral counselor.
Way of Intervening
In this last section, I will explore how my way of being (pastoral), and my
way of understanding (integrative family systems), comes to completion in
my way of intervening, within the context of pastoral counseling supervision. For this third mode, this supervisor uses a collaborative, adult educational approach. This school of thought recognizes the importance of modeling, facilitation and coaching in one’s supervisory repertoire. Here, the
adult learner is viewed as someone who already comes with knowledge
and skills. Our goal as pastoral counseling supervisors is to build on these
competencies, and to encourage accountability to clients and the profession.
This is sometimes called an andralogical model, which stands in contradistinction to a pedagogical one. The following description lists eight basic objectives in this philosophy and practice:
The andralogical teacher (facilitator, consultant, and change agent) prepares in advance a set of procedures for involving the learners (and other
relevant parties) in a process of involving these elements: (1) preparing
the learner; (2) establishing a climate conducive to learning; (3) creating a
mechanism for mutual planning; (4) diagnosing the needs for learning; (5)
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formulating program objectives (which is content) that will satisfy these
needs; (6) designing a pattern of learning experiences; (7) conducting
these learning experiences with a suitable technique and materials; and (8)
evaluation of the learning outcomes and rediagnosing learning needs.44
Taking a collaborative, adult educational approach to intervening does not
simply mean transferring one’s own knowledge, experience, and preferences to supervisees. Rather, it means helping them to formulate their own
clinical identities within the broad context of Cheston’s general framework,
now adapted to pastoral counseling. As the constructivist schools suggest,45
this means adopting a naïve stance, without memory or desire, relative to all
the supervisee brings, while being wholly engaged with them in the present
moment. This paradigm provides just enough structure for dialogue, reflexive inquiry and self-appropriation, without dictating the exact parameters for
implementing therapy goals. It is intended to draw the clinician and supervisor into a dynamic relationship of co-responsibility, co-construction and collaboration, towards a final objective of pastoral counseling competence. This
approach may also include moments of direct teaching relative to the modalities being used, and/or encouraging the student-intern to supplement supervision with additional readings in specific areas of therapeutic care.
Operative Metaphors for My “Ways” Paradigm
While the metaphor of midwife works to describes my way of understanding,
another metaphor works well to explain my supervisory stance of intervening. Consider a skating instructor who skates backwards while in front of a
novice skater. So when supervising, I sometimes work in reverse, with the
aim of allowing the supervisee to hold themselves upright and to look forward, while gaining momentum in their clinical work. The instructor takes
the hands of the learner in order to steady and guide them on the ice. They
are sensitive to the distance between themselves and the supervisee, and adjust their presence and support based upon the learner’s needs and skills, like
well-choreographed dancers. Once the learner is able to find their center and
direction, the instructor lets go of the process, and monitors from a respectful
distance. So the metaphors of sacred holding (way of being), midwife (way of
understanding), and skating instructor (way of intervening) express in images
the way I have been supervising Denise. All images share a common spirit of
collaboration.
Using the ways paradigm for supervision does not require one to be an
expert on a multitude of theories and practices, nor does it mean enforcing an
258
unnecessary eclecticism on unsuspecting interns. Rather, it means being open
to learn oneself, and a willingness of become more familiar with a variety of
counseling theories now available to us. With Denise, this first meant inquiring about her three ways/modes of treatment as they began to take shape
and evolve. Second, it engaged us in a process of evaluating the efficacy of
her work from an assessment and treatment perspective. Third, it meant having ongoing dialogue about how we might enhance her skill-set which best
fit for her professed ways paradigm. For this supervisor, coaching metaphors
also address the appropriate use of power in the relationship, and the importance of knowing when to support, when to guide, and when to let go of the
process. Metaphors of coaching have helped me to balance the polarities of
gentleness and firmness, without becoming either too cautious about making suggestions, or authoritarian in monitoring progress. In the words of L. G.
Roberto, “Coaching is a midway supervisory tool between skill-oriented supervision and personal therapy.”46 From this standpoint, coaching and adult
education are complementary means of exercising encouragement, and facilitating a spirit of mutual exploration.
While intervening with interns like Denise, this supervisor found it helpful to offer a variety of possible interventions strategies which are in line with
the intern’s therapeutic aims, temperament, and skills. What is crucial in collaborative supervision is that we are prepared to back away from our own rationale and objectives, and leave it up to the clinician to decide how to bring
various theories into practice. Of course, a supervisor may also need to be
quite directive at times, especially if a client’s safety is at stake, since periods
of crises are not intended to be times of extended reflection, but action.47 As a
pastoral counseling supervisor, I am less interested in the way Cheston’s tripartite paradigm might take shape in supervisees, and more interested in how
it is actually delivered it in the therapy room.
For me, pastoral counseling competence begins with a pastoral way of
being. In its simplest form, this translates into the capacity to reverence the
other as a unique human being, regardless of who they are, or what they
bring. When practicing this stance genuinely, it has the power to convey
to clients that they are also loved and upheld by God, assuring them that
they will never be viewed as objects of therapy, but rather persons who are
called into transcendence, healing and hope. Fostering pastoral presence for
another implies that clinicians and supervisors alike commit themselves to
their own transformational potentials through prayer, meditation, and other
forms of spiritual practice. Pamela Cooper-White links this activity to per-
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sonal self-care when she says, “Self-care involves a commitment to a regular
discipline of prayer and the intentional devotion of time to ones’ own spiritual growth. This is the ground, finally, from which all genuine pastoral care
springs.”48
Conclusion
A pastoral way of supervising, then, culminates in a sense of presence and intentionality, which brings a unique stance to our work. It is characterized by
openness, non-judgment, collaborative curiosity and goodwill. In the words
of Thomas Rodgerson, “This might be referred to as an artistic or spiritual
awareness on the part of the counselor, and would include an intuitive element and an awareness of the presence of God in the process of counseling.”49
Pastoral presence and intentionality implies flexibility in the way we encourage supervisees to be with, understand, and intervene with their clients. Pastoral counseling is not simply concerned with the application of sound methods and practices—as important as they are—but is at home in the domain
of mystery. “The supervisor is active witness, instrument to the movement of
Mystery within the supervisory session…the supervisor’s first and major response is to be open and receptive to the freeing, healing power of Mystery.”50
Pastoral counseling and supervision are therefore vocations involving sacred
alliances. Such an appreciation for a sense of the holy does not turn these into
some form of esoteric mysticism, but rather defines and informs them as interdisciplinary healing arts. “Supervision is an art. Skills can be learned and
refined. Supervision of supervision can be obtained, but ultimately the art of
supervision is a gift that is given, not one that can be achieved.”51 Cheston’s
ways paradigm applied to pastoral counseling supervision represents one cogent and competent way of achieving this end.
NOTES
1.
Sharon E. Cheston, “A New Paradigm for Teaching Counseling Therapy and Practice,” Counselor Education & Supervision 39, no. 4 (2000): 254–269.
2.
Ibid., 254.
3.
Hal Arkowitz, “Integrative Theories of Therapy,” in History of Psychotherapy: A Century of Change, Donald K. Freedheim, Herbert J. Freudenberger, Donald R. Peterson,
Jane W. Kessler, Hans H. Strupp, Stanley D. Messer, and Paul L. Wachtel, eds. (Washington, DC: American Psychological Association, 1992), 261–303.
4.
P. Scott Richards, Roger Keller, and Timothy B. Smith, “Religious and Spiritual Diversity in Counseling”, in Practicing Multiculturalism: Affirming Diversity in Counseling
260
and Psychology, Timothy B. Smith, ed. (Boston, MA: Pearson Education, 2004), 276–
293.
5. American Association of Pastoral Counselors (AAPC), Code of Ethics. (1994) Principle
IIIa—Client Relationships. Available online: http://www.aapc.org/content/ethics
(Last accessed February 5, 2010).
6.
John C. Norcross and Richard P. Halgin, “Integrative Approaches to Psychotherapy
Supervision,” in Handbook of Psychotherapy Supervision, C. Edward Watkins, Jr., ed.
(New York: Wiley, 1997), 203–222.
7.
Allen E. Bergin and Sol L. Garfield, “Introduction and Historical Overview”, in Handbook of Psychotherapy and Behavior Change, Allen E. Bergin and Sol L. Garfield, eds.
(New York: Wiley, 1994), 3–18.
8.
Cheston, Counselor Education & Supervision 39, no. 4 (2000): 254.
9.
Ibid., 255.
10. Ibid.
11. Ibid.
12. Ibid.
13. John 19:11
14. Thomas E. Rodgerson, “Depth and Breadth: A Theory of Pastoral Counseling Supervision,” Journal of Supervision and Training in Ministry 21 (2001): 273–288.
15. Janine M. Bernard and Rodney K. Goodyear, “Introduction to Clinical Supervision,”
in Fundamentals of Clinical Supervision (Boston, MA: Pearson Educational, 2004), 9.
16. Barry K. Estadt, “Toward Professional Integration,” in The Art of Clinical Supervision:
A Pastoral Counseling Perspective, Barry K. Estadt, John R. Compton, and Melvin C.
Blanchette, eds. (New York: Paulist Press, Integration Books, 1987), 10.
17. Marshall Fine and Jean Turner, “Collaborative Supervision: Minding the Power,” in
The Complete Systemic Supervisor: Context, Philosophy, and Pragmatics, Thomas C. Todd
and Cheryl L. Storm, eds. (Lincoln, NE: Authors Choice Press, 2002), 238.
18. Canadian Conference of Catholic Bishops (CCCB), Catechism of the Catholic Church
(1994), 336.
19. Ibid., 462.
20. Ann Belford Ulanov, Spiritual Aspects of Clinical Work (Einsiedeln, Switzerland:
Daimon Verlag, 2004), 228.
21. John R. Sachs, “’And God Saw That It Was Good:’ Spirituality for an Ecological Age”
in Handbook of Spirituality for Ministers, Robert J. Wicks, ed. (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist
Press, 1995), 421–441.
22. CCCB, Catechism of the Catholic Church, 73.
23. Ibid., 163.
Buhagar
261
24. John J. English, Spiritual Freedom: From an Experience of the Ignatian Exercises to the Art
of Spiritual Guidance (Chicago, IL: Loyola University Press, 1995), 238.
25. Donald W. Winnicott, The Maturational Processes and the Facilitating Environment (New
York: International Universities Press, 1965); John McDargh, Psychoanalytic Object Relations Theory and the Study of Religion: On Faith and the Imaging of God (Landham, MD:
University Press of America, 1983); Robert B. Kosek, “The Contribution of ObjectRelations Theory in Pastoral Counseling,” The Journal of Pastoral Care 50, no. 4 (1996):
371–381.
26. Nancy J. Ramsay, “Pastoral Authority: Images of Strength in Behalf of Empowerment,” in Pastoral Diagnosis: A Resource for Ministries of Care and Counseling (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1998), 109–126; John J. English, Spiritual Freedom.
27. Lucy Malarkey and Rea McDonnell, “Epilogue: Approaching Mystery” in The Art of
Clinical Supervision: A Pastoral Counseling Perspective, Barry K. Estadt, John R. Compton, and Melvin C. Blanchette, eds. (New York: Paulist Press, 1987), 295.
28. C. Kevin Gillespie, “Listening for Grace: Self Psychology and Spiritual Direction,” in
Handbook of Spirituality for Ministers, Robert. J. Wicks, ed., 347–364.
29. Malarkey and McDonnell, The Art of Clinical Supervision, 294.
30. 1 Cor 12:4–11.
31. Rodney J. Hunter, “Pastoral Counseling,” in Dictionary of Pastoral Care and Counseling,
Rodney J. Hunter, H. Newton Maloney, Liston O. Mills, and John Patton, eds. (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1990), 850.
32. Robert B. Kosek, “The Contribution of Object Relations Theory in Pastoral Counseling,” The Journal of Pastoral Care 50, no. 4 (1996): 377.
33. Malarkey and McDonnell, The Art of Clinical Supervision, 293.
34. Donald W. Winnicott, “On Transference,” in Essential Papers on Transference, Aaron H.
Esman, ed. (New York: New York University Press, 1990), 246–251.
35. Michael P. Nichols and Richard C. Schwartz, “Integrative Models,” Family Therapy:
Concepts and Methods, Michael P. Nichols, ed. (Boston, MA: Pearson/Allyn & Bacon,
2008), 399–419.
36. Karen D. Fergus and David W. Reid, “Integrating Constructivist and Systemic
Metatheory in Family Therapy,” Journal of Constructivist Psychology 15, no. 1 (2002):
41–63.
37. Nichols and Schwartz, Family Therapy, 417.
38. Edward P. Shafranske and H. Newton Malony, “Religion and the Clinical Practice of
Psychology: A Case for Inclusion,” in Religion and the Clinical Practice of Psychology, Edward P. Shafranske, ed. (Washington, DC: American Psychological Association, 1996),
561–586.
39. Sandra A. Rigazio-DiGilio, “Integrative Supervision: Approaches to Tailoring the Supervisory Process,” in Todd and Storm, eds., The Complete Systemic Supervisor, 199.
262
40. Christie C. Neuger,“A Feminist Perspective on Pastoral Counseling with Women,” in
Wicks and Parsons, eds., Clinical Handbook of Pastoral Counseling, vol. 2., 185–207.
41. Ramsay, Pastoral Diagnosis, 118–119.
42. Pamela Cooper-White, “The History of Countertransference in Pastoral Care and
Counseling,” in Shared Wisdom: Use of Self in Pastoral Care and Counseling (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2004), 26–34.
43. Bernard and Goodyear, Fundamentals of Clinical Supervision, 141.
44. Malcolm S. Knowles, Elwood F. Holton III, and Richard A. Swanson, “An Andralogical Process Model of Learning,” in The Adult Learner: The Definitive Classic in Adult
Education and Human Resource Development, 6th ed. (Boston, MA: Elsevier, 2005), 115.
45. Robert A. Neimeyer, Constructivist Psychotherapy: Distinctive Features (New York:
Routledge, 2009).
46. Laura G. Roberto, “Supervision: The Transgenerational Models,” in Todd and Storm,
eds., The Complete Systemic Supervisor, 166.
47. Richard W. Voss, “Crisis Intervention: Critical Issues in Supervision,” in Estadt,
Compton, and Blanchette, eds., The Art of Clinical Supervision, 160–194.
48. Pamela Cooper-White, Shared Wisdom, 130.
49. Rodgerson, Journal of Supervision and Training in Ministry 21 (2001): 266.
50. Malarkey and McDonnell, The Art of Clinical Supervision, 295
51. Ibid.
BOOK REVIEWS
John R. Culbreth and Lori L. Brown, eds., State of the Art in Clinical Supervision (New York: Routledge Taylor & Francis Group, 2010), 233 pp.
A visitor from another planet might be excused for assuming that extensive professional interactions exist between what appear to be two rather
closely related professional groups: clinical pastoral educators (ACPE and
AAPC supervisors, as well as seminary field educators) and faculty in university departments of counseling and education. Each relies heavily on
personality theories rooted in Freud and elaborated over the decades to
include ego psychology, attachment theory, reality therapy, cognitive therapy, general systems theory, etc. Each develops theory and practice in relation to the interactions between members of the same fundamental triad:
supervisor, supervisee, and client/student/patient. They appear to speak a
common language with emphasis on words like transference, parallel process, authority issues, self-identity, and projection—to name a few. Each is
quite careful to declare that they are doing counseling and not therapy (an
emphasis which may be as much political as theoretical, as the psychological/psychiatric establishment appears to have attained exclusive rights to
the word “therapy”). Perhaps their divergent paths simply reflect our age
of specialization, a host of professional associations to join, and some discomfort on the part of one group with the spiritual/religious organizing
principle of the other group (educators are constantly reminded of the separation of church and state). Hopefully, and I suspect this may be the case,
some degree of interprofessional consultation and sharing occurs among
individuals, as well as a few small groups between educational counselors
and pastoral/spiritual care practitioners. To those individuals and groups I
would strongly recommend, without reservation, State of the Art in Clinical
Supervision. Each will experience an enrichment of their Clinical Supervision supervisory theory and practice by reading and discussing this little
volume.
264
Book reviews
The books consists of ten chapters, eight of which were produced by
a collaboration between two or more authors (not always an easy thing to
accomplish and which may have strengthened the papers). The fact that
twenty of the twenty-one authors possess a PhD suggests the academic milieu from which they write and practice. Most of the writers are from the
southeastern United States, with a few outliers from Seattle, Washington
and Kent State University, Kent, Ohio. The two authors, John R. Culbreth
(University of North Carolina at Charlotte) and Lori L. Brown (a Professional School Counselor and Licensed Professional Counselor in private
practice in eastern North Carolina), have done a superb job of pulling their
material together. Each chapter stands alone as an effective learning module—the chapters complement and enrich one another and there is virtually no overlap or redundancy.
A listing of the ten chapter headings readily conveys the richness and
diversity of this volume: “Multicultural Supervision Competence,” “No
Surprises: Practices for Conducting Supervisee Evaluations,” “Triadic Supervision,” “Innovative Uses of Technology in Clinical Supervision,” “Principles of Best Practices for Clinical Supervisor Training Programs,” “Religious, Spirituality, and Clinical Supervision,” “Transtheoretical Model of
Change in Clinical Supervision,” “Applications of Narrative Therapy in
Supervision,” and “On Becoming an Emotionally Intelligent Counseling
Supervisor.”
While I feel I gained a good deal from each of the chapters, three in
particular caused me to pause and consider how they might be implemented in my supervisory practice. Years ago as a trainee in family therapy, I
inadvertently experienced “triadic supervision,” more as a result of a couple of trainees being absent that day than as a supervisory theory put into
practice. Lenoir Gillam (University of Columbus, Columbus, Georgia) and
Michael Baltimore (Georgia’s Columbus State University), give an excellent explication of how such a model might work out in practice, giving
attention to such issues as: consideration of factors in the selection process, dealing with different levels of competency, and confidentiality issues.
This struck me as a model which might well enrich a year-long residency
program.
The chapter on the expressive arts in supervision was written by six
authors: Sondra Smith-Adcock (University of Florida, Gainesville), Mark
Scholl (East Carolina University, Greenville), Elaine Wittmann (Registered
Play Therapist in North Carolina), Catherine Tucker (Indiana State Univer-
BOOK REVIEWS
265
sity, Terre Haute), Clarrice Rapisarda (University of North Carolina, Chapel
Hill), and Mary Amanda Graham (Seattle University, Seattle, Washington).
They give excellent presentations on the use of four art modalities in supervision: puppetry, psychodrama, bibliotherapy, and sandtray-worldplay.
Finally, the presentation by Debbie Crawford Sturm (University of
South Carolina in Columbia) on the applications of Narrative Therapy in
supervision draws on the innovative work developed in 1989 by Michael
White and David Epston, of Australia and New Zealand respectively, in
the field of family therapy. This also correlates well with the relatively recent emphasis on narrative theology as well as the power derived from the
sharing of stories. As the author states, “A narrative approach to supervision offers a number of benefits including, but certainly not limited to, its
approach to power and agency, its emphasis on lived experience and applicability to a wide range of cultural conditions, techniques such as externalizing the problem that allow supervisees to examine areas of weakness in a
safe way, and the process of curious questioning, allowing a safe, accepting
line of examination” (p. 193).
Returning to our extraterrestrial visitor, perhaps on a return visit a few
years from now she/he/it will discover that educational supervisors and
clinical spiritual supervisors have forged closer bonds of professional interaction in theory and practice. Hopefully, we will have moved beyond our
being “so near and yet so far.” If so, our supervisory theory and practice can
only be enriched—and State of the Art in Supervision may be cited as one of
the important books that contributed to the rapprochement.
C. George Fitzgerald
Stanford University Hospital and Clinics
Palo Alto, CA
Derek milne, Evidence-Based Clinical Supervision: Principles and Practices (london, UK: Wiley-blackwell, 2009), 288 pp.
There are so many varied schools of psychotherapy and counseling. How
does the reputable clinician know which approach is truly effective? In response to this question and several other factors, like pressure from man-
266
Book reviews
aged care companies, there has emerged in professional circles a movement
termed, “evidence-based psychotherapy.” The proponents of this view focus on conducting and surveying empirical research to carefully document
which methods and approaches to helping others are effective. This movement is having an increasingly significant impact upon how psychotherapy
is practiced and taught in the United States.
Derek Milne, Director of the Newcastle University doctoral program
in Clinical Psychology, writing on behalf of the British Psychological Society which has published this volume, has applied this perspective to supervision. He argues that supervision is extremely vital and important to
the success of any human services delivery system, but supervision has
been a neglected research area in terms of reliable empirical studies on supervision and related issues. Nevertheless, he seeks in Evidence-Based Clinical Supervision to provide supervisors with “the best available evidence to
guide their work in the mental health field.” His approach and findings
have much to teach those of us who are primarily serving in theologically
informed ministries of pastoral care, counseling, spiritual direction and
field education.
One of the values of this volume is its careful review of the research
that critiques the various models and methods of supervision. He also
traces the history of supervision back to the apprenticeship model that
evolved in Western culture as the traditional way of passing on a craft.
He identifies three main models of supervision: the development model,
the therapy model, and several supervision-specific models. He discusses the strengths and weaknesses of each model in light of the empirical
research. While this task is valuable enough, Dr. Milne goes on to present what he calls “an evidence-based clinical supervision model (EBCS),”
which is built more solidly upon research and takes into account the limitations of the prevailing models mentioned earlier. In particular, he wishes
to distinguish EBCS from the cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) model
currently popular in English universities. In building his EBCS model, he
draws heavily on the previously unappreciated staff development literature and adult learning theory.
Dr. Milne builds his EBCS model of supervision around four principles or essential tasks. They are: (1) conducting an educational needs assessment, (2) leading to the collaboration with the supervisee of a learning
contract, (3) the facilitation of the supervisee’s learning through the application of various methods, and, finally, (4) the use of an evaluation in or-
BOOK REVIEWS
267
der to monitor and measure the outcomes. The author expands upon each
of these stages in detail in subsequent chapters, again bringing to bear
the relevant research on each issue. He states that most of the attention
has been focused on the various processes and methods of supervision.
Little attention has been given to the very important phases of conducting
a needs assessment and an objective evaluation process. He offers some
helpful insights and approaches for attending to these neglected areas.
Personally, I appreciated the discussion of the role of the supervisee in
the supervision process, that is, what the supervisee brings to the table that
facilitates or blocks the supervision process. I also appreciated his affirmation of the need to provide support systems for the supervisor through consultative services. I also found the discussion of evaluation helpful. How do
we know when we have been successful as a supervisor? Dr. Milne argues
for a measurement process that is more objective, including outcome measures, rather than a mere satisfaction survey filled out by the supervisee.
Increasingly, in whatever institutional context we serve, we who are supervisors are being called to accountability, explaining and documenting carefully what we do, how it is important, and when is it effective in achieving
the institution’s goals.
This is a hard book to read. The writing style is objective, essay-like,
and filled with research, theory, and charts. It would be a tough read for a
beginning supervisor, but for a supervisor fashioning his or her theory paper it is a must-read. Too much of what passes for supervision training in
the theological disciplines is based on oral history, personal experiences,
and often biased by the personal theologies and values of the training program or supervisor. This volume will force us to think about this important
subject with a more scientific, thoughtful, and objective analysis.
R. Scott Sullender, PhD
San Francisco Theological Seminary
San Francisco, CA
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Janine m. bernard and Rodney K. Goodyear, Fundamentals of Clinical
Supervision, 4th ed. (Upper Saddle River, new Jersey: Pearson education, inc., 2009). 433 pp.
Opening this textbook is like entering a workshop with shelves full of tools
and manuals for how to use them. Picking up the tools, checking them out
and putting them to use, the reader becomes immersed in clinical supervision,
“the signature pedagogy of the mental health professions.” Supervision is the
complex task of integrating theory with the practice of the helping profession,
fostering supervisee’s professional growth while ensuring the welfare of clients/patients. Bernard and Goodyear balance a comprehensive review of the
literature and theory of supervision with practical applications. They address
the following topics: evaluation, ethical and legal considerations, supervisory
models, the supervisory relationship, interventions in individual and group
supervision, management, and teaching and research. The chapters about the
supervisory relationship include an extensive consideration of multicultural
issues and take on a central role in the book. The authors also give much attention to evaluation and administration, which are considered by many supervisors as a necessary evil, though they are central building blocks for productive supervision. The theories and applications presented in this textbook
easily translate to the work of spiritual counselors and directors, CPE supervisors, and field educators. Its topics match well with ACPE standards and
make the book well-suited for the ACPE supervisory curriculum.
What’s missing is a look at the tools in action. Four case vignettes illustrating and explaining the supervisory concepts and applications the authors
refer to the complementary text Clinical Supervision: A Handbook for Practitioners by M. Fall and J. Sutton. Still, Fundamentals of Clinical Supervision resembles a workshop that orients novices in the field and is filled with different
tools and ideas, which can refresh and inspire the work of experienced supervisors and educators. It’s a workshop you will want to visit often.
Dagmar Grefe
Manager of Spiritual Care and Clinical Pastoral Education
Children’s Hospital Los Angeles
Los Angeles, CA
Book reviews
269
Sharan B. Merriam, Rosemary S. Caffarella, and Lisa M. Baumgartner,
Learning in Adulthood: A Comprehensive Guide, 3rd ed. (San Francisco,
CA: John Wiley & Sons/Jossey-Bass, 2007), 533 pp.
During my Supervisory CPE training and while serving as a graduate teaching assistant, I gained valuable hands-on experience about how adults learn
and how I could be a more effective educator. Yet I often felt I had shaky theoretical moorings for my pedagogical practice because I did not possess a good
mental grasp of the breadth of educational theory. It is to remedy dilemmas
like mine that Merriam and her colleagues have authored this text—it is thus
a most welcome resource.
Learning in Adulthood is organized into four parts. The first section concentrates on contextual factors that influence North American adult education, such as demographics, globalization, and technology; formal, nonformal (i.e., local, community-based, and voluntarily organized), and informal
(everyday, spontaneous, and self-directed) settings; and parsing the concept
of participation in learning. These chapters set the table for part two, which
focuses on adult learning paradigms, including Malcolm Knowles’s classic andragogical model, self-directed models, transformational models (e.g.,
Mezirow and Freire), and experiential learning models (e.g., Dewey, Kolb,
and Schön). In part three, the authors turn from a cognitive emphasis toward
a more holistic perspective, which for them includes embodied, spiritual, and
narrative learning modalities, as well as giving attention to non-Western lenses (Confucian, Hindu, Islamic, Maori, and African) and to power dynamics,
post-modernism, and feminist theory. Following this cluster is part four, addressing developmental issues. Merriam et al present five traditional learning
orientations (behaviorism, humanism, cognitivism, social cognitive learning,
and constructivism); four angles on understanding adult human development (biological aging, psychological change, sociocultural dimensions, and
integrative theories); a look at cognitive development (the realm of Piaget,
Kohlberg, Perry, Kegan, and Belenky et al); an exploration of intelligence and
the processes of aging; and a tour of the intersection of memory, thinking, and
the brain. The final chapter, “Reflections on Learning in Adulthood,” is the
authors’ effort to articulate their own conception of how a learner engages an
educational process in a given context to achieve learning.
As this summary implies and the text’s subtitle asserts, this book is ambitious in scope and, in many ways, the authors’ discussions match their broad
aspirations. A key strength of the text is the authors’ critical analysis of the
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theories they describe. They conscientiously critique each model they present, highlighting its strengths and advantages. In that same spirit, I venture
to say that the very comprehensiveness of this volume occasionally leads to
redundancy—such as explaining a theory several times at different points in
the text. Further, the logic of placing the fourth part (and especially the chapter on traditional learning orientations) so late in the book was puzzling, as
was the authors’ seeming unawareness of Parker Palmer’s work, given their
emphasis on spirituality in education. Yet even with these flaws, Merriam and
her collaborators have created a very useful tool for all of us who first hear a
call toward spiritual caregiving and then find ourselves teaching, supervising,
and offering formation to others seeking to learn this unique art.
Peter Yuichi Clark
UCSF Medical Center and UCSF Benioff Children’s Hospital
San Francisco, CA
The American Baptist Seminary of the West
Berkeley, CA
David o. Jenkins and P. Alice Rogers, eds., Equipping the Saints: Best
Practices in Contextual Theological Education (Cleveland, oH: Pilgrim Press, 2010), 192 pp.
This collection of reflections had its genesis in a self-study of the contextual
education program at Atlanta’s Candler School of Theology, where David
Jenkins and Alice Rogers were the program’s co-directors. As part of their
research, Jenkins and Rogers visited numerous other schools to observe practices of theological field education. They were intrigued by the variety of
practices encountered in their visits—practices deeply shaped by a school’s
values, contexts, and relationships. Curious about this diversity and supported with a grant from the Lilly Endowment, in 2007 they invited representatives from thirteen seminaries to come together to share “best practices” in
contextual education. Equipping the Saints grew out of these conversations.
The book is organized into two parts. Part One consists of seven chapters, each written by a different author, focusing on “Institutional Values
that Shape Best Practices.” In the opening chapter, entitled “The Evolution
of Theological Field Education,” Emily Click provides an invaluable review of changes that have taken place over time in theological field education. She then defines three basic models used in teaching ministerial reflec-
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271
tion—models that help us understand why schools vary so much in their
approaches to teaching students to become reflective practitioners. The remaining chapters in this section are practical embodiments of Click’s models, with reflections on individualism, multicultural contexts, intercultural
immersions, institutional ethos, mission-shaped congregations and supervisors, and the contextualizing of a theological curriculum. Part Two offers six
more chapters describing “Best Practices of Supervision and Reflection”—a
rich smorgasbord of specific practices that have enhanced contextual education in authors’ seminaries: mentoring, the role of supervision, problems
with praising interns in supervision, feedback from congregational committees, texts for theological reflection, and collaborative discourse.
I only wish this book had been available when I began my career in
theological field education, as it graciously invites us to listen in on the
self-reflections of seasoned field educators as they describe and evaluate
their own practices. Collectively, these discourses are a potential gold mine
for those new to contextual education. Conversely, veteran educators may
well receive from these chapters the “gift of new eyes,” fresh perspectives
for better understanding their own institutions and contexts for ministry.
In overhearing these reflections of colleagues, you may well find yourself
identifying strengths and weaknesses in your own institution and educational practices, and probing theological assumptions in your own teaching.
As the editors acknowledge, one shortcoming of the book is that the
schools represented are almost exclusively mainline Protestant, so the discussion lacks input from other ecclesial traditions. Also, there are inherent limitations whenever practitioners describe their own practices without
benefit of third-party critique, as is the case here. However, Walter Brueggemann is right when he suggests in his “Foreword” that such limitations of
the book primarily point to the need for additional reflections of this sort
that go beyond describing “processes” for contextual education and help
deepen our theological understandings of why we do what we do.
R. Leon Carroll, Jr.
Associate Professor Emeritus of Supervised Ministry
Columbia Theological Seminary
Decatur, GA
272
Book reviews
Jane Leach and Michael Paterson, Pastoral Supervision: A Handbook
(London, UK: SCM Press, 2010), 226 pp.
This is a very practical guidebook with clear theological principles undergirding each chapter. The book is organized by thematic chapters, each one ending with a set of practical exercises for the pastoral supervisor. Each chapter
also explores relevant Christian theological themes and related biblical texts.
Jane Leach and Michael Paterson played key roles in the 2009 formation of the Association of Pastoral Supervisors and Educators (APSE), a British
organization committed to quality standards in pastoral supervision and
education. (For more information about APSE, visit www.pastoralsupervision.org.uk) In Pastoral Supervision: A Handbook, Leach and Paterson draw
on well-known theorists in the fields of pastoral supervision and spiritual
direction, integrating their own approach with clarity. Diagrams, definitions, case studies, and reflective questions for the practitioner make this
book accessible and applicable to theory-junkies and practical theologians
alike. Leach and Paterson integrate head and heart effectively. Exploring
the “three legged stool of supervision” and a concise and useful description
of the “Drama Triangle” (also known as the Karpman Triangle), the book
addresses the basic competencies of pastoral supervision.
The authors articulate four developmental stages of the supervisee
and how the pastoral supervisor engages effective use of self and a narrative approach to pastoral supervision. Exercises include creative techniques
for group and individual supervisory sessions, such as bringing artifacts to
supervision and inviting a biblical character into the dialogue. The chapter
on group supervision provides a practical structure and methodology. The
book ends, quite beautifully, with a chapter focused on ending supervisory
relationships with intention and integrity.
The strength of this book lies in its simplicity. The authors provide
helpful clinical examples, and I appreciate the book’s practical application.
A well-written and easy-to-read text, it’s thoughtfully organized in that
each chapter builds upon the one before. Though certainly not a weakness,
the authors’ Christian viewpoint limits accessibility to practitioners from
more diverse religious and spiritual traditions. I experience this as both
a strength and limitation. Christian pastoral educators will resonate with
much of the theological reflection in this book.
I strongly recommend this book as a resource for pastoral educators
in a variety of disciplines: spiritual direction, field education, and clinical
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273
pastoral education. The chapter on group supervision is especially relevant
for students with an Association for Clinical Pastoral Education supervisory
training background.
Carrie L. Buckner, BCC
ACPE Supervisor
Alta Bates Summit Medical Center
Berkeley, CA
F. leRon Shults and Steven J. Sandage, Transforming Spirituality: Integrating Theology and Psychology (Grand Rapids, mi: baker Academic,
2006), 304 pp.
In Transforming Spirituality, Father LeRon Shults, Professor of Theology at Agder University in Norway and Steven J. Sandage, a licensed psychologist and
adjunct professor at Bethel Theological Seminary, offer the reader a rich and
varied exploration of “spirituality” from their respective perspectives of systematic theology and psychology. Their goal is reflected in two ways that are
both captured in the book’s title: (1) they are interested in transforming spirituality by contributing to contemporary understanding of scholarship in this
area, and (2) they are interested in a transforming spirituality, which assists
people’s spiritual growth.
The book is interdisciplinary, complex, and well documented; it is not an
easy read, but engaging. This text is well worth the effort. The authors attempt
to integrate insights from several disciplines and they do so responsibly. In
laying out their model of spiritual transformation, for example, they draw on
the “crucible” metaphor of therapist David Schnarch, the sociological models of “spirituality of dwelling” and “spirituality of seeking” associated with
Robert Wuthnow, and the classical stages of spiritual growth (purgation, illumination, and union). Their overarching goal is to seek a deeper understanding of spiritual transformation through asking the question, “How do people
change?” Both authors reflect the philosophical move from “substance” to
“relation,” that is, the self as constituted in and through relationships.
The first half of the book, written by Shults, focuses on the need to reform
pneumatology (our theology of the Holy Spirit) to develop an understanding
of “Spirit” that is meaningful and transformative for persons in the 21st century. In doing so, he turns to the underlying longings of the human person
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identified in classical thought: the desire for truth, goodness, and beauty. After
a chapter in which he explains his approach, he then proceeds to three chapters on becoming wise (truth), becoming just (goodness), and becoming free
(as freedom relates to our being drawn to the beauty of the Divine). In each
chapter he looks at the topic from the viewpoint of scripture, the history of
spirituality, and insights from philosophy and the natural sciences. He then
describes what it might mean to know in the Spirit (truth), act in the Spirit
(goodness), and be in the Spirit (beauty).
The second half of the book, written by Sandage, reviews some of the
social scientific literature. In his words, “The differing ways in which people
perceive sacredness or psychologically sanctify their lives can be empirically
associated with other health-related factors” (p. 157). These chapters deal with
spirituality and human development, spirituality and health, spirituality and
darkness, and spirituality and maturity. He draws on a variety of authors, as
well as scripture, to argue for an understanding of spirituality that is relational (to self, God, and others) and culturally mediated. To give a sample of the
richness found in these pages: Sandage suggests at one point that a life-giving
spirituality is intentionally embodied, developmentally generative, relationally connected, justice-enhancing, and narratively coherent (pp. 210–213). Each
of these characteristics invites further reflection!
The authors demonstrate a better knowledge of scholarship in the reformed tradition than in the Catholic tradition (their understanding of the
“dark night” in St. John of the Cross needs further development). Shults’ treatment of the history of spirituality tends to remove authors from their cultural
and historical context in order to focus on concepts that appear similar. That
being said, Shults and Sandage have made a creative and insightful contribution to contemporary understandings of spiritual transformation. In terms
of formation and supervision, this book provides readers with an innovative
and challenging theoretical framework within which to pursue conversations
about spiritual growth and development.
Bruce H. Lescher
Santa Clara University
Berkeley, CA
Book reviews
275
Jessica Pryce-Jones, Happiness at Work: Maximizing your Psychological Capital for Success (Oxford, UK: Wiley, 2010), 254 pp.
In the prologue to this book, Jessica Pryce-Jones writes: “Reading this will
tell you what happiness at work is, why it matters, and how you go about
getting more of it.” I found this to be an accurate summation—but there is
more. Also, reading this book tells leaders how they can go about creating
a healthier, happier, work environment.
Following are some basic principles on which this book is based:
• You are responsible for your own levels of happiness;
• You have much more room to maneuver than you think;
• There is always choice; and,
• Self-awareness is an essential first step.
I liked that the book’s content is based on research. The author tested
the hypothesis that “happiness” is the most significant of all work-related
experience. If the hypotheses are true, the correlation between “happiness”
and other work-related measures will be higher and more consistent than
that between all other work-related measures.
Subjective reports of happiness correlated highly with the following
three behavioral measures:
1)Working more discretionary hours;
2)Taking less sick leave; and
3)Staying longer in the job.
Subjective reports of happiness and these related behaviors were then correlated with a number of other work-related measures. Information was gathered through extensive focus groups and one-on-one interviews involving
more that 80 people, spanning a variety of cultures and industries. An expert research analyst was hired to head up the statistical analysis.
“Happiness at Work” was found to be highly correlated with what
the research team termed the five “Cs”:
• Contribution—the effort you make;
• Conviction—the motivation you have;
• Culture—how well you feel you fit at work;
• Commitment—the extent to which you are engaged; and
• Confidence—belief that you have in yourself and your job.
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A chapter is devoted to each of these “Cs” (two chapters are devoted to
Contribution) with a clear discussion of the nature and importance of each,
the relations of each to happiness, and practical guidance on how to increase
each of the “Cs.” These five “Cs” are surrounded by three attributes: pride,
trust, and recognition. Finally at the heart of “Happiness at Work” is the experiencing of “achieving your potential.”
I like and readily recommend this book for a number of reasons. First, I
trust the content due to its research base. Second, the book is filled with helpful guidance for both the individual seeking greater happiness at work and
the employer/leader seeking to provide a more positive work environment.
Third, the book is well written and helpfully structured with real-life illustrations and concluding summaries and top take-aways for each chapter. I fully
expect to use this book in my work with pastors.
John P. Martinson
Director, Clergy Coaches, Ministerial Health and Leadership Resources
Fairview Health Services
Minneapolis, MN
beverly A. musgrave and neil J. mcGettingan, eds., Spiritual and Psychological Aspects of Illness: Dealing with Sickness, Loss, Dying, and
Death (mahwah, nJ: Paulist Press, 2010), 253 pp.
The recurring theme in this collection of twenty articles will reinforce what
those involved in helping relationships have probably experienced many
times over, namely that “a caring partnership can bring about real benefit
and sometimes healing” (p. ix). The contributions are organized in four parts:
theological, psychological, healing, and personal dimensions. The authors are
primarily from the East Coast, about one third of whom are associated with
Fordham University.
Co-editor Beverly A. Musgrave, a Roman Catholic and professor of pastoral counseling at Fordham, is the founder of Partners in Healing, a professional group that trains clergy and laity for pastoral ministry to the sick and
dying. The inspiration for this work grew out of Musgrave’s own experience
with serious illness in 1990, which landed her body, “stressed beyond…limits,” in a hospital’s coronary care unit. In an article recounting her experience,
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277
she explores the meaning of family, self, and “surrender to the insoluble mystery of God,” as part of the journey to finding meaning in illness (p. 147).
A further description of Partners in Healing is provided by Eleanor Ramos, who sketches the basic training, the qualities, unique gifts, and the call of
those who participate in this ministry. The last article, “Pancakes in Mumbai,”
by Roberta Troilo, is a moving account of the death of the author’s husband
and the support she received from Sr. Kathryn, a pastoral associate, whose
ministry became part of Partners in Healing.
The other co-editor, Neil J. McGettingan, professor of theology at Villanueva, contributed two articles. In the first, after summarizing the views of
five authors (Judith Viorst, Sandra M. Gilbert, Ann Aguirre, Therese A. Rando, Carol Pregent, and C. S. Lewis), he concludes that “our experience of loss
leads us to desire God and to seek release from loss and the only solace from
death [is] possession of God in eternity” (p. 72). Although he briefly refers to
the Buddhist perspective in his second article, “Loss and the Unraveling of
Life,” McGettingan, like most authors in this collection, writes from a Christian perspective. (It may have been helpful to indicate the book’s Christian
viewpoint in the title as a corrective to the description of Partners in Health as
“multireligious” on the back cover.)
Several authors, such as Mary Ragan, illustrate well the application of
theory to practice. For others, the vignettes are less well integrated. Overall,
the collection accomplishes its purpose of underscoring the benefit of caring
partnerships, and will be most useful to the non-specialist. The addition of an
index would make this volume more useful.
John Gillman
VITAS Innovative Hospice Care
San Diego, CA
Archie Smith, Jr. and Ursula Riedel-Pfaefflin, Siblings by Choice: Race,
Gender and Violence (St. louis, mo: Chalice Press, 2004), 174 pp.
Siblings by Choice is an critical analysis of how differently situated human beings work through long-standing historical injustice, experienced trauma, ontological and concrete estrangement, and irreparable hurt to become siblings
by choice. Reading this critical examination requires the reader to not only engage individual analysis, but also contextual analysis. Siblings by Choice con-
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nects teachers and practitioners of pastoral care and counseling to knowledge,
skill, and healing/caring pedagogical practices within communities as historical, social, political, economic, and ecological dynamics that shape communities and our place within them.
Smith and Riedel-Pfaefflin use metaphor, myth, and scripture from the
Judeo-Christian tradition to demonstrate how the concepts of intercultural realities, systemic thinking, and narrative agency help us understand processes
that influence violence between and within cultures, races, genders, and religions. They also incorporate the use of art, social sciences and biological perspectives on change.
The many layers and complexities of race, gender, and class violence
that make change difficult to achieve and sustain are uncovered.
The sibling metaphor for teaching and training pastoral caregivers and
counselors is explored, extensively using Mark 3:33 and 35, “Who are my
mother and my brothers?” “Whoever does the will of God is my brother and
sister and mother,” to propose a vision in which help seekers are offered assistance in facing the depths of suffering within the radical “then” and the radical “now” of the interconnected human community. Moreover, in hearing the
sufferer, the caregiver/counselor stands as witnesses to “encourage the human capacity for resiliency and supports the injured person through a healing
process.” Movement toward living creatively as siblings is grounded in the
belief that there are spiritual resources that are greater than the forces of seemingly insurmountable obstacles to becoming siblings by choice.
Smith and Riedel-Pfaefflin explore two fundamental questions that present a difficult challenge: How is it possible for women, men, and children
from different cultural and spiritual backgrounds to come together and struggle against common forms of oppression? How can we create relationships
and make connections as teachers and practitioners of pastoral care and counseling while we acknowledge and find value in differences?
Smith and Riedel-Pfaefflin offer their own life experiences, scholarship, teaching tools, group exercises, and case studies to build more culturally competent approaches to teaching and training pastoral caregivers and
counselors, and enhancing possibilities for personal and social transformation. Through this approach we learn the social location of the authors, which
make congruent the arguments concerning narrative agency, systemic thinking, and intercultural realities.
A significant strength of the methodological approach in Smith and Riedel-Pfaefflin’s Siblings by Choice is their clearly defined terms and that they
Book reviews
279
remain steadfastly focused on their thesis. They repeatedly refer back to the
theoretical tensions found in the concepts of narrative agency, systemic thinking, and intercultural realities.
Definition of Narrative Agency:
• We are purposeful creatures, born into a particular society and culture at a
particular point in its development.
• We live within layer upon layer of stories.
• That a moral vision is never independent of personal identity, mental health,
and family loyalty issues.
• The developing capacity for self-reflexivity—the capacity to act in relationship with others and with increased self-conscious awareness.
• Where justice has been denied and the effects of traumas remain hidden,
there will surface a need to deal openly with the trauma and right the
wrongs.
• We are moral, purposeful, and responsible beings that, in concert with others help to create maintain and modify worlds that hold meaning for us.
Definition of Systemic Thinking:
• A way of thinking about multipersonal and reciprocal influences within certain contexts and making connections between our social location, immediate life situation, and the wider world of which we are a part.
• Making connections between events in an attempt to see a larger whole and
broader vision, and to gain a comprehensive understanding of justice.
• Working out a systemic, transgenerational perspective and working through
the personal and collective history of the victims and perpetrators of economic or military power.
• A reflexive process of moving back and forth between memory, present-day
events, and social practices.
• A way of looking at the contexts in which behavior occurs and tracking the
reciprocal connections between contexts and individuals, as well as noting
the changes that occur within individuals.
• Challenges us to make the connections between our own moral experiences
and the ethos and broader contexts in which we live.
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DefInItIon of Intercultural realItIes:
• The coming together of influences from many different streams of cultures
and system of meaning.
• The developing capacity over time to gain trust and engage in effective communication between members of different ethnic groups.
• Situations when a moral vision is extended with resourceful acts of justice
and compassion.
• Embedded in layers upon layers of experience; not all of the layers are in conscious awareness.
• Acknowledges the struggles that post-conflict societies are facing.
• Enlarge our understanding of forgiveness issues and make the matter of forgiveness more complex.
• Narrative agency, systemic thinking, and intercultural realities are often denied through a truncated analysis of one’s own situation. It is important to
remember that Smith and Riedel-Pfaefflin’s examination requires the reader
to engage individual analysis, as well as contextual analysis.
As a pastoral care provider and teacher of pastoral care, the personal,
interpersonal, and theoretical tension I felt through Smith and Riedel-Pfaefflin’s analysis made reading slow. I found chapters 5 and 6 on metaphor and
myth very instructive on how to think about and practice pastoral care. These
chapters also generated a slowing response as I found myself staring straight
ahead reflecting on my own systemic metaphors, narrative foundations, and
layered cultural stories. I began to search out and read myths, folktales, and
dramas that seemed to relate to my complex social reality, as well as my pastoral care practice. This time of reflection was well worth the slow read.
For anyone involved in teaching or practicing pastoral care and counseling, it is well worth reading Siblings by Choice. Be aware that it does have
a Christocentric core, however, the concepts of narrative agency, systemic
thinking and intercultural realities are universal. Looking more closely at
the processes, Smith and Riedel-Pfaefflin have highlighted can provide significant support for educational, supervisory, and clinical practices.
Laurie Garrett-Cobbina
San Francisco Theological Seminary
San Anselmo, CA
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281
Jeanne Stevenson-Moessner and Teresa Snorton, eds., Women Out
of Order: Risking Change and Creating Care in a Multicultural World
(Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2010), 352 pp.
This volume is a timely contribution to pastoral care and to church leaders navigating the multi-racial and intercultural landscape of our society
as it pertains to women and pastoral care. Contributors are scholars, pastors, and chaplains representing feminists, womanist, mujeristas, and Native Americans.
The title of the book, Women Out of Order, references how “women can
be perceived as being ‘out-of-order’ or out-of-sync with the stereotypes, or
simply too complex to understand” (p. 5). Each chapter then points out, in
narrative form, how patriarchy’s power constructs gender and race to its
benefit and makes it central to the discussion of women living in a multiracial world. This allows for the complexities of identity, culture, and belonging to be discussed within the context of the inequities of power and
class. It avoids the illusion that celebrating diversity is the sum of our work
and looks behind the veil.
The chapter, “Are There Limits to Multicultural Inclusion?” replaces
the idea of “multicultural” with Emmanuel Lartey’s definition of “intercultural“ as the corrective lens by which to understand our society and relate to each other. “Intercultural” is “aimed at giving many different voices
from different backgrounds a chance to express their views” (p. 323). This
chapter discusses the dangers that come when a dominant culture tries to
establish universal norms and set these as standards for all cultures, and
relates this to pastoral care and religion. The chapter ends with a set of
questions for self-reflection. One example is essential, “Can we hone pastoral skills (such as empathy, attentive listening and mediation), allow one’s
own authority to be de-centered when within another culture, and learn to
study the context closely before speaking or acting?” This question brings
the reader immediately to the realization that their self-identity is also under the construct of power, economics, and race.
In the final section of the book, “Challenges Ahead,” each contributor offers her identification of challenges and solutions for pastoral care in
a multi-racial society. The variety of perspectives offered underscores that
pastoral care in a multi-racial context will always be fluid. If there is one
common factor among the contributors, it is the call for ongoing, commit-
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ted work for justice and respect for the other as the first step to authentic
relationships across cultures and race.
Practitioners in congregations, community hospitals, and in academic circles will find this volume an invaluable resource at many different
levels.
Isabel N. Docampo
Perkins School of Theology
Dallas, TX
matthew Floding, ed., Welcome to Theological Field Education! (Herndon, VA: The Alban institute, 2011), 206 pp.
As one who has been immersed in the practice and teaching of field education for many years, my “ah ha” moment in reading Matthew Floding’s
book was when I said: “I didn’t realize we needed it, but now that it’s here
how did we get along without it?” Welcome to Theological Field Education!
comes to us at just the right time, as our discipline is more needed than
ever, but is also faced with the challenges of changing landscapes in theological education. Floding is director of formation for ministry and associate professor of Christian ministry at Western Theological Seminary in Holland, Michigan, and is also currently serving as chair of the Association for
Theological Field Education.
Floding’s statement at the beginning, directed to students, provides
a simple and elegant definition of our work: “Field education offers you a
place to practice ministry and spaces to reflect on it so that you can grow
toward competency in ministry.” Chapter 1 entitled, “What is Theological
Field Education?” gives an informative overview, not only for students but
for all who are connected to a seminary field education program. Floding’s
“A Word to Supervisor-Mentors” is particularly valuable, lifting up the important role played by our ministry partners who directly oversee the students’ field work. Floding refers to this as a “holy responsibility.” Several
of the contributors include in their chapters reflections that are specifically
addressed to supervisors and mentors.
Book reviews
283
Because theological field education is, as Floding notes in his preface, “informed by many theoretical fields,” Chapters 2 through 11 are
written by fellow scholars and practitioners; colleagues who are seasoned in pastoral and practical theology, supervised ministries, and
leadership studies at seminaries across the continent. Authors and subject areas in these chapters include: “The Art of Supervision and Formation” by Charlene Jin Lee; “Ministerial Reflection,” Emily Click; “The
Use of Case Studies in Field Education,” Tim Sensing; “The Power of Reflecting with Peers,” Donna Duensing; “The Forming Work of Congregations,” Lee Carroll; “Self-Care and Community,” Jaco Hamman; “Ministerial Ethics,” Barbara Blodgett; “Language and Leadership,” Lorraine
Ste-Marie; “Considerations for Cross-Cultural Placement,” Joanne Lindstrom; and “Assessment and Theological Field Education” by Sarah
Drummond.
Each chapter provides clear, accessible, and thoughtful writing on
topics that those of us teaching in field education recognize as the fabric of our rich and complex discipline. The chapters on language and
cross-cultural placement are particularly relevant. In Chapter 9, “Language and Leadership,” Lorraine Ste-Marie maintains that “language
creates our reality.” She includes a “mental map” exercise that can lead
us to identify the language of the assumptions that we hold dear, part
of a larger process we can use for exploring our immunity to change.
In Chapter 10, “Considerations for Cross-Cultural Placement,” Joanne
Lindstrom reflects on themes from Romans 12:1–3: “non-conformity,
transformation, and sober judgment.” These themes become the focus
of her support and encouragement of those who undertake a field education placement that crosses cultural boundaries. Lindstrom indicates
that students, supervisors, and ministry sites engaging in such a crosscultural experience need to understand that the journey “requires great
effort, intent, and compassion.”
Bringing all of the components of theological field education into
one volume honors our work and gives everyone involved—students,
supervisor/mentors, congregations, and field education directors—new
understanding of its breadth and depth. I recommend that those of us
who are field educators purchase a copy of Welcome to Theological Field
Education! and give it to our seminary presidents and academic deans
to read and discuss with us. This book inspires new energy for the tasks
and the teaching of field education and makes me proud to be a part of
284
BOOK REVIEWS
this discipline. Our work has not always been fully understood or celebrated—Floding’s book will be an important resource for changing that
reality.
Nancy E. Hall
American Baptist Seminary of the West
Berkeley, CA
IN MEMORIUM
Don S. Browning 1934–20101
At his death after a courageous battle with cancer, Don S. Browning
was the Alexander Campbell Professor Emeritus of Ethics and the
Social Sciences at the Divinity School of the University of Chicago.
Trained in theology at the University of Chicago, he was equally
conversant in modern psychology, philosophy, ethics, sociology,
and in the last decade of his life, family law. He was much more,
however. Don was at home talking about psychology or the latest movie he had seen or the exploits of his amazing children and
grandchildren or Aquinas or Kant or supervision for ministry. He
was also deeply committed to forming religious leaders capable of
responding to the challenges of an uncertain future.
The readership of this journal will know Don Browning for his
books on pastoral care and ethics or moral guidance. In his early work,
he sought to bridge theology and psychology in the service of pastoral
care around such diverse themes as the atonement, generativity, poverty, personality theory, and the quest for a normative anthropology.
During this period, he produced books that influenced congregational
life and pastoral practice, such as The Moral Context of Pastoral Care and
Religious Ethics and Pastoral Care. As a capstone to this period, he edited a twelve-volume series on Theology and Pastoral Care. Over his
career, Browning also sustained keen interest in psychoanalysis, psychiatry, object-relations theory, self-psychology, evolutionary psychology, and cognitive science. His theological and ethical analysis of the
modern psychologies has had a key impact on the wider discussion of
psychology and religion among secular and religious scholars alike.
Don S. Browning was a member of the first Editorial Advisory Board of the Journal of Supervision and Training in Ministry. He
wrote about “Pastoral Care and Models of Training in Counseling”
286
In Memorium
for Volume 2, Winter 1979 of JSTM. In that essay, he identified three
contexts for pastoral counseling and care: the parish; institutionally-based chaplaincies; and specialized centers for time-limited pastoral psychotherapy. His critical observation about pastoral counseling in a parish or congregational setting remains relevant. “The
ambiguity about the range and limits of counseling in the context
of congregational ministry is of crisis proportions and should be at
the top of our agenda of issues to discuss and take steps to remedy” (p. 101). Browning’s concern was that too many ministers were
confused about the limits and possibilities of counseling in the parish and how it fits with other responsibilities.
While Browning applauded the general direction of specialized pastoral counseling, he deplored its inadequate contributions
to strengthening pastoral counseling in the local congregation. The
following statement is a signature Browning appeal:
It is time to introduce some elements which have been neglected
temporarily. Those elements have to do with training in practical
moral rationality and value clarification. It is also clear that the different types of ministry will use these skills in moral reflection to
varying degrees in their counseling…We should regret that in general an important aspect of pastoral counseling has declined, i.e.
counseling as religio-moral inquiry and discipline (pps. 99, 102).
The need for training in practical moral reflection as a dimension of
counseling is most needed in preparation for ministry in the local
congregation. The minister of a congregation, Browning insisted,
must be an expert in moral inquiry. In the critical responses to his
essay and in his response to his critics, Browning is constant in his
challenge that religious leaders need to be capable of moral deliberation in the midst of the complex emotional and social dynamics
of daily living. At the end of his life, he was embarking on another
project in continuity with his earliest passions about moral inquiry:
the science of virtues. In this Journal, his legacy is reflected in the
theme for Volume 32: “Virtues in Formation and Supervision.”
ANDERSON
Don and I were neighbors for 15 years in Hyde Park in Chicago and continued as friends until his death. Whether we were
watching the Chicago Bears play football on TV or on an evening
walk or discussing his latest project or worrying about the future
of our children, there was a constancy about Don that was also unflappable. He was determined to maintain a “radical centrist” position even though his center moved slightly to the right. More than
once during a tennis match, he would be uncertain whether he
was serving from the left court or the right court. Don had definite
opinions about controversial issues and I did not always agree with
him. At the same time, he always strove to find the middle ground
and to make room for fair, deliberate conversation.
In a time when people are quick to take sides, Don Browning
embodied the intellectual capacity to see the other side with courage
and confidence in order to foster a critical consciousness regarding
the assumptions that shape every theory and all practice. He had the
capacity to hold his own in complicated public policy debates and in
highly sophisticated intellectual circles, and yet was friend and mentor to many. In a forward to the Festschrift published in honor of Don
Browning entitled The Equal-Regard Family and its Friendly Critics,
Martin Marty wrote this: “He is a ‘catholic’ thinker in that he is ready
to defend his approaches and findings while at the same time showing hospitality to and learning from scholars who differ vastly from
his and who may represent other philosophies an diverse religions.”
Herbert Anderson
Editor
noTeS
1.
Portions of this remembrance have appeared in several publications including Pastoral Psychology 60, no. 1 (2011): 1–6.
287
Journal of Supervision and Training in Ministry
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Reflective Practice: Formation and Supervision in Ministry is a journal that seeks to understand, expand, and promote theory, learning, and reflection in the practice of supervision and formation in various ministries from diverse ethnic and religious perspectives.
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Reflective Practice: Formation and Supervision in Ministry

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