Summer school: why it's good for you & for the church.

One of my favorite students milks cows for a living. An organic farmer from the heart of Lake Wobegon (Freeport, Minnesota, is the home of Charlie's Cafe, the inspiration for Garrison Keillor's fictional Chatterbox Cafe), Rick Scherping works the same land his father did. He, just over fifty, and his wife, June, have seven children, three of whom were adopted from Guatemala. For nearly a year, Rick has served the diocese of St. Cloud as a deacon, working in a cluster of three parishes.

I first met Rick when I taught ecclesiology two summers ago at St. John's University in Collegeville, Minnesota. There were twelve of us, and four times a week for six weeks we worked through Scripture, tradition, the documents of Vatican II, and contemporary theologians. We were a surprisingly diverse group for a smal central-Minnesota campus: monks, nuns, and laypeople; young and older, single, celibate, and married; Easterners, Southerners, Midwesterners; urban, suburban, rural; cradle and convert Catholics alike.

I had dreaded teaching that summer. Tired from my first full year of teaching theology and my first months of fatherhood, I would have preferred to stay home in St. Paul avoiding the long commute to Collegeville. To top it all off, two weeks before class I cut my wrist severely and was unable to drive, tie my shoes, change my son's diapers, or even hold him. I joked that my wife was caring for two babies. She didn't find it funny.

Rick enrolled in the class as part of his diaconate formation. With only a high-school education, and faced with the demands of running a farm and raising three newly adopted children, he found the course work nearly overwhelming, and he almost quit. He persisted only because of prayer and the support of his family and church.

On our first day of class, Rick said that he didn't like to speak much and so would remain quiet. His nervousness was evident, but so was his smile. He seemed at once uneasy in the classroom and comfortable in his own skin.

As the weeks progressed, Rick blossomed. He was moved by words on evangelization from Vatican II and Pope Paul VI. He brought our class to silence when recounting stories of his mission work in Guatemala over the past decade and his brush with death there. The liberation ecclesiology of Jon Sobrino, SJ, was no abstraction to him. Rick had the authority that comes from integrity, intelligence, simplicity, and being close to the land. Not many students come into a 9:45 a.m. class after having spent the night helping a cow birth.

The course, it turns out, went well. The students formed a cohesive group, were respectful of one another, and despite having a wide range of abilities, did excellent work in discussions and in their final papers. They proved to be like the students I would meet in subsequent summers. Several hoped to pursue doctorates in theology, and one was to be ordained a priest, but most were lay ministers and teachers, or those preparing for such work. They represent the changing face of ministry, and their preparation in summer courses and workshops is one of the most promising and daunting challenges facing the American Catholic Church.

In their 1999 study, Parishes and Parish Ministers: A Study of Parish Lay Ministry, David DeLambo and the late Msgr. Philip Murnion set forth the outlines of a rapid and dramatic shift that is taking place in Catholic ministry in this country: the emergence of what has been inelegantly termed Lay Ecclesial Ministers (LEMs)--those laity (in canon law, nonordained religious are considered lay) who work at least twenty hours a week in salaried parish pastoral roles like catechesis and liturgy (but excluding parochial schools). Statistics about these ministers are bracing:

* In 1997, LEMs, for the first time, outnumbered parish priests (29,146 vs. 27,154), a striking change from five years before (21,569 vs. 30,955).

* Over 70 percent of LEMs are members of the laity (in the ordinary sense of the word, that is, they are not members of religious congregations); 82 percent are women.

* Religious LEMs average thirteen-plus years of Catholic education, while lay LEMs average eight years.

* One percent of religious lack college degrees; 26 percent of lay LEMs lack them.

* LEMs report substantial deficiencies in their knowledge of Scripture, moral theology, justice issues, and family life.

* Eighty percent of religious report a prayer routine, compared to 39 percent of lay LEMs.

* Racial and ethnic minorities compose less than 7 percent of LEMs.

* Over 90 percent of LEMs find their work "satisfying," "respected," "spiritually rewarding," "appreciated," and "life-giving."

Murnion and DeLambo concluded that these new ecclesial ministers are predominantly lay, women, local, and "ministerial" (their work is based on ability rather than office). These qualities, I would add, can lead to tension in a church whose traditional structures have been largely clerical, restricted to men, tied to the universal church, and based on ordination. If the U.S. church is to adjust to the emergence of lay leadership--which has only continued to grow since 1997--much will depend on the formation of lay ministers and teachers. Summer institutes and schools are an obvious starting point.

My summer teaching experiences have been my most satisfying as a teacher. Students want to be there. Almost without exception, they are generous, eager, passionate about the church and its mission. In the words of Belgian Cardinal Godfried Danneels: "[they are] sick when the church is sick ... [they rejoice] when the church rejoices." Virtually all of them have sacrificed greatly for their education: the mother of four, for instance, who teaches high school religion in North Dakota and who was in the third trimester of another pregnancy; the deacon candidates and their wives who make marital and career sacrifices to serve the church; the twenty-something Nebraskan who hopes to return to campus ministry despite her college loans and low ministerial salary.

Summer teaching can bring out the best in teachers as well. In my case, a more participatory, dialogical style emerged, thanks to the students' interest and enthusiasm. I quickly came to admire their varied experience, which allowed for flexibility in assigning readings and projects based on their creativity. I was most impressed by their final papers, in which they drew upon the documents of Vatican II to write a homily for their imagined installation as diocesan bishop or as pope. We studied the texts of similar homilies by Popes John Paul I and II and by English Cardinal Cormac Murphy-O'Connor. The students responded wonderfully--often with meditations that could be read out loud in under twenty minutes. Preachers, take note!

Summer programs themselves are both rewarding and much needed. Professors are often leaders in their fields, known for both their teaching and research. Full-time ministers and teachers can take classes for which they would otherwise not have the time, and those who live far from universities are afforded a rare opportunity to study. Once on campus, some find that the compressed time frame and residential setting of many programs allow for deeper immersion in study and in prayer than is possible during weekend or night classes. Many summer programs offer regular, even daily, opportunities for celebrating the Eucharist and the Liturgy of the Hours.

These very strengths, though, can also be challenges. The shortened schedule can overwhelm, preventing nuanced engagement with complex or controversial topics (as the class found when I asked them to discuss Vatican II's theology of the papacy and the episcopate in ninety minutes). The hurried pace likewise precludes the slow, sometimes meandering work of reflection that a traditional semester allows. Students can get burned out, especially if they are taking another course. Writing suffers; it is nearly impossible to prepare a decent term paper in a three-week course.

These programs suffer from the same problems full-time theology and seminary programs experience, but more so. Some students are simply not prepared for (or even capable of) graduate study. Others frequently enroll in whatever classes are available or seem appealing, and finish without a comprehensive or systematic formation.

More problematic, summer students usually lack the philosophical training necessary for doing basic theological work; traditional creedal Christological and Trinitarian doctrines rely on familiarity with Greek metaphysics. Students trained in business or education may have little background in the humanities; often they are unfamiliar with the close reading of texts and uncomfortable with ambiguity and multiple layers of meaning.

Some have a hard time grasping the role of ordained authority in Catholicism, or of the diocesan, much less the universal, nature of the church. Good at grasping Vatican II's image of the church as the people of God and its recognition of the universal call to holiness, some students seem less able (or willing) to give more than verbal assent to the council's teaching that the church is "one complex reality comprising a human and a divine element," that charism and hierarchy, structure and Spirit are inseparable. This is a troubling situation for present and future LEMs, since it could lead to an anticlericalism and a congregationalism that would be harmful to both them and the communities they are called to serve.

Furthermore, ministerial formation must be holistic and not simply academic. It must be concerned with the students' spiritual practices. As Murnion and DeLambo note, LEMs report weak prayer structure or training; whatever deficiencies seminary or monastic-religious formation may have had, structure and practices were present. Lay spirituality is necessarily different in its rhythms and its disciplines; it is difficult to find time for silence and retreats, for traditional practices like lectio divina or Eucharistic adoration. But ministers and teachers will not be able to give what they do not have. Without a solid prayer life and in the face of difficulties (78 percent of LEMs report finding their work "stressful"), they will tend to burn out, and the church will suffer.

Because of these factors, I see four pressing tasks for improving summer programs. First, money. In ways good and bad, money is the lifeblood of education. Money funds lasting programs. Money attracts faculty. Money provides students with financial aid and time, a precious commodity for those--especially women--raising families and caring for elders. As theology and ministry become increasingly lay enterprises, all sectors of the church need to contribute in order to ensure that laity called to ministry and education can afford to pursue their calling. Catholic higher education must continue to make summer schools and institutes a priority both in mission and in budget. Boston College, for one, offers scholarships for employees of New England dioceses.

Schools must also do more to attract individual donors and foundations. The Lilly Endowment has given tens of millions to fund dozens of vocational and ministerial initiatives in higher education. One such program, in which I have taught, is St. John's University's Youth in Theology and Ministry (YTM). YTM provides theological, spiritual, and ministerial formation both to high-school students and to their teachers and ministers. Over a period of four years, adults from Minnesota and the Dakotas take four courses a year--two in the summer, two on weekends during the academic year--toward a master of arts in pastoral ministry. At the program's end, they have been prepared to receive certification as LEMs. Thanks to the generosity of the university and Lilly, students pay only $1,500 of the $5,184 annual tuition cost; many would not be able to attend without such help.

Dioceses should likewise see money as a sign of their commitment to, and partnership with, ministerial education. The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops is currently preparing a document on the theological foundations of lay ecclesial ministry. Its effect will be minimal, though, if dioceses don't do enough to ensure that their offices and parishes can attract and retain qualified ministers. Successful organizations invest in their people; so, too, must the church. Summer programs are perhaps some dioceses' only opportunities to do so.

Second, doctrinal literacy. As John Cavadini notes in his April 9 Commonweal article, "Ignorant Catholics," there is plenty of blame to go around for the frightening religious illiteracy of most Catholics, even otherwise highly educated ones. Summer institutes must organize the curriculums they offer on the presumption that even ministers and educators lack a grasp of basic Catholic doctrine. A more focused and structured sequence of courses needs to present the content of the faith. Greater attentiveness to the documents of Vatican II is one possible approach; theologies of revelation, liturgy, Christ, church, sacraments, ministry, ecumenism and interreligious dialogue, social mission, and evangelization can all be treated in this context.

The pastoral consequences of theological illiteracy are immediate. The ecclesiologist Richard Gaillardetz writes, in By What Authority?, that confusion, contention, defensiveness, and anti-intellectualism result from a fuzzy, faulty grasp of church doctrine. It seems that many in catechesis and in theology worry about doctrinal litmus tests and hierarchical control. At a time when church teaching finds little comprehension within and little welcome without, it is imperative that the church's ministers be able to understand and articulate core beliefs in a concise, confident, and convincing manner. Catechesis and theology, as Cavadini argues, must be seen as intrinsically bound to each other. Failure here cannot be an option.

Third, spiritual formation, especially for laypeople. Such formation should be addressed in courses, as well as in communal and private prayer. Students should be exposed to the great streams of spirituality in the church (for example, Benedictine, Franciscan, Ignatian) and their distinctive practices. They should read such spiritual masters as Augustine, Catherine of Siena, John Henry Newman, Gustavo Gutierrez, and Jean Vanier. Contemporary developments such as small Christian communities and Sant'Egidio could be presented. Schools themselves should examine how they can foster community life. Whatever shape such formation takes, it should help students see themselves not only as ministers, but, more fundamentally, as disciples. And, it should be woven into the daily routine of summer programs.

Fourth, there is much to be said for simple professional competency. Peter Steinfels, in A People Adrift (Simon & Schuster), recalls Cardinal Danneels saying that part of the liturgical renewal's failure may be due to a lack of craftsmanship: bad preaching and presiding, banal music, poor sound systems, little congregational participation. Steinfels also notes the destructive effects of many ministers' lack of accountability and feedback. Summer institutes, like all educational programs, must continue to develop better tools and criteria of assessment--be they student portfolios, practicum evaluations, genuinely comprehensive exams, or other means--to ensure that their graduates are competent.

My former student Rick Scherping is a happy deacon. He enjoys his ministry, especially with the elderly for whom rural life can be isolating, and finds preaching both humbling and life-giving. Still, he wonders about younger generations. Even in Freeport's traditional, homogeneous rural culture, where most residents are German Catholics whose families go back well over a century, he sees a noticeable decline in Catholic belief and practice. Sunday Mass attendance is slipping. The type of osmosis through which he was formed as a Catholic is a thing of the past. A greater intentionality is needed to sustain faith.

As an organic farmer and as a Christian, though, Rick has no choice but to be hopeful. Farming is a hard life, and both bad weather and a bad economy can be catastrophic. But Rick has learned to trust that, in calling him to something new, God will provide, be it Rick's switch to organic farming some years ago or his family's adoption of traumatized children. His faith serves as a reminder that God is doing something new in the church and in its ministry, and that our bold response is the only way forward.

Christopher Ruddy is an assistant professor of theology at the University of St. Thomas in St. Paul, Minnesota.