The Future of Divinity
Matters of faith were at the core of Yale's founding, and have been carried forward by the Divinity School. But changes in the ministry, the growth of the University, and a physical plant in disrepair all called for a review of the School's future. The conclusion: Smaller, and better.

March 1996
by Bruce Fellman

The ministers who created Yale had in mind an institution dedicated to, in the words of John Davenport, founder of the New Haven Colony, "the better trayning upp of youth in this towne, that, through God's blessing they may be fitted for publique service hereafter, in church or commonweale."

The need for such a place was clear. Harvard, once the pride of Puritan New England, was, argued firebrand minister (and Harvard alumnus) Cotton Mather, in a "low and languishing state." Mather's father, Increase, added that the Massachusetts school was "sending forth degenerate graduates who were at once recognized as the visible tokens of paradise lost." Yale's founders hoped to counter that trend in the College, and their aspirations have been carried on with notable success in the Divinity School. Although more Yale divinity students are now trained for service to the "commonweale" than to the chapel, divinity has remained a fundamental part of the University's offering.

But when President Richard C. Levin and Provost Alison F. Richard convened a committee in October 1994 to conduct the first in-depth review of the Divinity School in more than 30 years, a groundswell of anxiety passed from pulpits, over phone lines, and even across the Internet. Despite Divinity's strong reputation for scholarship, its production of influential and effective ministers, and the general agreement among outside observers that, were such institutions to be ranked (they are not), it would be right at the top, it has been plagued in recent years with declining admission statistics, occasional internal dissent, and a crumbling campus. Many close to the School worried that, in a period of restructuring and retrenchment, Yale's administrators might be contemplating drastic action, perhaps even closing the institution down.

That fear was unfounded, says review committee member David H. Kelsey, a professor of theology. For while there were certainly problems to address, the charge to his group was never "should there be a divinity school, but rather, what shape should it take?"

The committee's recommendations are contained in a 100-page report that was completed last fall and made public over the winter. The YDS of the future, say the reviewers, should be smaller and more selective, and it should undergo curricular and administrative changes. These alterations are "not drastic," admits Kelsey. "They're basically designed to provide us with a clearer focus on what we call our tripartite mission: training ministers and lay leaders, making possible the academic study of Christianity in a university setting, and helping to shape the role of religion in society by educating the educators."

So Yale, which has had a formal divinity department since 1822, will continue the endeavor. And that, says the Reverend Willam Sloane Coffin '49, '56BD, is all to the good. "Yale needs the sense of purpose, direction, and conscience that YDS represents," says Coffin, who served as University Chaplain in the turbulent 1960s and 1970s. Nor, he explains, is the relationship all one-way: "The School needs the knowledge and discipline that comes with academic learning."

This symbiosis is one of the distinguishing characteristics of Yale's divinity school, notes Thomas Ogletree, the outgoing dean and a professor of theological ethics. "We talk about God here. We're self-consciously Christian and very much linked to the churches," he says. "But because we're also linked to a great research university, we actively engage in critical reflection and study of the traditions of faith and practice."

Many religious denominations maintain their own seminaries for the training of clergy, and there are numerous university departments devoted to the creation of scholars of the world's religions. But only a handful of divinity schools -- most prominently Yale, Harvard, the University of Chicago, and Vanderbilt -- have attempted to weave together the two often disparate and sometimes contradictory threads.

YDS is itself something of a hybrid. Not only is it part of a university, but the school is composed of several interlocking pieces. In 1971, the Berkeley Divinity School, an Episcopal seminary, became a YDS affiliate, and while Berkeley retains a separate institutional identity, its students are an integral part of the Yale community. In 1973, thanks to endowment funds provided by musician and hymnologist Clementine Tangeman, the Institute of Sacred Music (ISM), an organization dedicated to the training of professional church musicians through a partnership with the Music School, also joined YDS.

These three segments, which are augmented by ties to the Department of Religious Studies and Yale's other graduate and professional schools, have enabled YDS to fashion an educational experience that, according to Coffin, links "devotion with sophistication. You don't honor the higher truth in Christ by ignoring truths found elsewhere. Today's ministers must recognize that parishioners need a helping mind, not just a helping hand -- a blend of spirituality and intellectualism."

For more than half of YDS's students, that blend is achieved through the completion of the master of divinity degree, a three-year program that can lead to ordination in a number of denominations. Increasingly, however, MDiv candidates, particularly those who are Roman Catholics, are intent on training for church careers as nonordained leaders; many are women. According to Kelsey, they are being called upon to pick up the leadership slack as the number of men entering the priesthood continues to decline. Regardless of which career path MDiv candidates might choose, he says, the review committee felt that the degree needed to be modified.

"We decided to abandon the time-honored device of distribution requirements in favor of requiring a certain set of courses we felt everyone had to have," Kelsey explains. These should, the committee suggested, include the subjects of Old and New Testament interpretation, the Christian tradition, and ministry studies. In addition, the reviewers felt that students ought to study at least one non-Christian tradition and be well-grounded in the principles of running a not-for-profit organization, instruction that Kelsey says could be developed in concert with existing coursework at the School of Management. YDS also offers a two-year, master of arts in religion degree. The committee suggested few changes in this program, which provides the fundamentals required for advanced research in religion. A third degree program, the one-year master of sacred theology, would be modified to become a kind of "continuing education" program for working clergy who wanted to take a sabbatical from their studies to pursue advanced training in a particular pastoral skill such as counseling, preaching, or management.

One thing was clear to the reviewers: There should be fewer students at the School, and it should be harder for them to gain admission. Between 1980 and 1994, enrollment averaged 373 (it went as high as 417), and since officials weren't overly aggressive about attracting applicants, maintaining that level of student population meant that there were times when more than three-quarters of all those who applied got in. (By contrast, last year fewer than one in 13 applicants to the Law School received "yes" letters.)

While Kelsey counsels against equating selectivity with excellence, he is well aware of Yale's reputation as a selective institution. So was the committee, which recommended trimming enrollment to between 270 and 280 students and admitting somewhere in the neighborhood of 50 to 60 percent of qualified applicants.

There is some concern that, given YDS's primary constituency -- the "mainline" Protestant churches, many of which are shrinking -- any attempt to increase the applicant pool may be futile, but Guy Martin, who recently became the school's director of admissions, doesn't agree. Martin, who came to Yale after successfully boosting the applicant pool at the Harvard Divinity School, has solid statistics to back up his optimism. As a result of a marketing program -- a dignified, low-key one, but a marketing effort nevertheless -- HDS experienced a 50 percent jump in the number of applicants. "We weren't selling soap, and there was no TV advertising," he quips. "Basically, we were providing an increased amount of information to two markets: the philosophy and religion departments of colleges and universities, and college-educated people who were looking to change careers."

This latter group Martin and his fellow recruiters reached by going to individual churches and the annual meetings of church groups. "We wanted to let them know that the divinity school was there and that it could be useful both to people who wanted to go into the ordained ministry, as well as those who needed to become more theologically literate," he says. Primary among those prospects were such professionals as doctors and nurses who were interested in advanced training in medical ethics.

That the effort worked in Cambridge is particularly impressive, Martin continues, because while Harvard was considered excellent at training scholars of religion, it had a less-than-sterling reputation for preparing master of divinity students for the ministry. "There was the feeling out there that if you went to Harvard, you'd lose your faith," he says.

But there was never that impression about Yale, says Martin, so his job here would appear to be substantially easier. "I want to reach people who don't know about us, and I don't need to gild the lily. YDS is so high-quality that it will sell itself," he notes. "All we have to do is get applicants to see it."

While the School's program may be strong, its buildings are not. The heart of its campus, located north of Science Hill and about one mile from the New Haven Green, is the Sterling Divinity Quadrangle. Completed in 1932, it was graceful, even soul-stirring, in its time. Today, however, it evokes more the press of years of deferred maintenance than the timelessness of its architectural inspiration, Thomas Jefferson's University of Virginia. The paint is peeling, the trim on the facades is rotting, and there are fears that the steeple of Marquand Chapel could topple. In fact, many of the YDS structures are in such bad shape that there exists a standing order calling for the evacuation of the top floors should more than six inches of snow accumulate on certain roofs. (Because this winter's storms came during vacations, no forced exits were necessary.)

While a detailed architectural evaluation has yet to be undertaken, officials familiar with the state of the quadrangle estimate that a complete overhaul could cost as much as $50 million. That is a formidable -- and perhaps, prohibitive -- sum for an institution whose total endowment is $76 million, much of which is used to support teachers and to fund scholarships. The review committee suggested ways in which more funds could be raised, but no one anticipates being able to garner the kind of multimillion-dollar capital-improvement gifts that made possible the renovation of the Law School or the construction of the Luce Center for International Affairs. Nor, despite the committee's recommendation that YDS remain in its current location, has the University made a financial commitment to the restoration.

Some observers feel that the best course of action for the future would be to abandon the Sterling quadrangle and move the School downtown to a site near the main campus. The current location may be "pastoral and peaceful, with a welcome sense of community and with plenty of room for reflection," says Harry S. Stout, the Jonathan Edwards Professor of American Christianity, but continuing this "monastic" climate was, in his view, "the worst possible choice for the future of religion at Yale."

Stout, who served on the review committee and also edits the works of the 18th-century minister Jonathan Edwards, quoted a sermon the pastor delivered in 1735 to support the current argument for coming down off the hill. "A man of right spirit is not of a narrow, private spirit; but he is greatly concerned for the good of the public community to which he belongs, and particularly of the town where he dwells," said Edwards. "The kind of separation we have maintained here wouldn't have appealed to Edwards," says Stout, "and it shouldn't appeal to us."

Stout is calling on Yale to build an integrated "religion center" that would house YDS, the Department of Religious Studies, and the chaplains' offices. "The Divinity School's best hope for survival and excellence is to wrap itself so tightly around the University at all levels of student and faculty life that it simply cannot be disentangled," he said.

Kelsey acknowledges that there could be advantages to a more central location. "It might facilitate our being able to interact with the rest of Yale's faculty, but we shouldn't romanticize this," he says. "You can be insular when you're next door." Moving downtown was not, Kelsey and the majority of the review committee agreed, considered essential to accomplish the objective of better interaction with the rest of the University.

The main form of current interaction is between the School and the religious studies department, where many YDS professors hold joint appointments. "Geography can translate into mental distance, but [the present] arrangement prevents isolation," says Robert Wilson, the Hoober Professor of Religious Studies and chairman of the department. Wilson, who specializes in Old Testament research, calls the existing relationship "synergistic. We provide a base from which the divinity faculty can concentrate on the academic study of religion, and their presence gives us a depth we could not otherwise afford. Together, we're a high-powered package."

Three decades ago, however, there was considerable antagonism between the two entities. When the religious studies department was created in 1963, the doctoral program in religious education was eliminated and several professors were not given joint divinity school appointments. The people who were shut out were bitter, says Wilson, and the resulting tensions "have lived with us since then. One hopes that this wound has been healed, and anyway, this is a new academic generation. Our current relationship is extremely cordial, and though our interests and methods may diverge, we feel we're part of a common enterprise."

While the ultimate decision about where the School should be located rests in the hands of President Levin, the fact that many of the review committee's recommendations have already been accepted by Provost Richard should convince even skeptics that the Divinity School has a future -- somewhere -- at Yale. To be sure, it will be leaner. The committee recommended that the drop in the student population be accompanied by a modest downsizing in the number of faculty members (about three professors over ten years). But it will not, following the corporate trend, turn mean. According to faculty, administrators, and students alike, the notion of community remains as bedrock, and the academic verve and breadth of a curriculum that enables students to study virtually everything from religious iconography in church architecture to spiritual ecology to African Christianity to how to craft and deliver a sermon, will, if anything, be enhanced.

"Our communities desperately need mentors," says Richard Chiola, a Roman Catholic priest who teaches courses on various aspects of the life of the congregation. "If we don't have well-prepared leaders and pastors, who will our leaders go to for mentoring?"

Clearly, YDS has a role, so while the "rigorous self-study" of the review was, Kelsey admits, painful at times, the result may well be an institution in far better shape than before to "enter the 21st century in a fresh way. We've always been an intellectually lively place that educates an extraordinary group of talented people for leadership positions that play a major role in shaping the quality of our lives. We have a distinguished history, but the religious scene is changing rapidly. We can't sit tight."

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