McAfee School of Theology

The Intersection of the Holy and the Human

By: R. Kirby Godsey

McAfee School of Theology – Convocation Ceremony

August 22, 2006

The James and Carolyn McAfee School of Theology – year 10, Founder’s Day – in a university that had its inception almost 175 years ago. Like some of you, I remember when this School of Theology was only a distant dream. There was no shortage of dreamers. Some of those who dreamed are here to celebrate today. There was also an abundance of naysayers – folks who believed the notion of a new and free School of Theology that embraced the traditions of an open search for truth and an open affirmation of our faith was foolhardy, even disloyal.

Mercer did not dream alone. There was considerable energy for a new School beyond the boundaries of Mercer. That energy, that initiative, was clearly a significant driving force for Mercer’s decision. But also within the Mercer academic community, there was a growing ferment to pursue theological education. Many believed that a School of Theology was the highest fulfillment of Jesse Mercer’s dream in creating the University that would come to bear his name.

In a Baptist world that was trying to exercise increasing control over theological education, in a Baptist world that seemed hell-bent on rooting out every vestige of heresy that might lurk within Baptist seminaries, I came to believe that the consideration of such a step warranted calling a special meeting of Mercer’s Board of Trustees. This historic decision was too serious, too wide-ranging in its impact, to be obscured by the consideration of other regular University business.

So, on June 28, 1994, a special meeting of Mercer’s Board of Trustees was called. The meeting was held at Eagle’s Landing – just south of Atlanta. In that session, the Trustees were provided extensive reports regarding the challenges facing the possible creation of a new School of Theology. The news was not all good. In addition to voices of support, the Trustees were also told about loud and vigorous voices of dissent. Independent surveys of Baptist constituents were conducted. The counsel was mixed. Results of a Feasibility Study Committee, which included Trustees, faculty, alumni, administrators, pastors and friends of the University were presented.

In preparation for this historic meeting, I drafted what has now come to be called the founding principles of the School. My notion in writing these principles was not that they might be an enduring document. My aim was far less grandiose, more down-to-earth, much more practical. I believed that the Trustees needed to understand the kind of school we were contemplating. Asking the Board to vote on the creation of a School as a sheer abstraction was subject to someone later saying, “This was not the kind of School I thought we had in mind.” It was important to understand that a School of Theology, especially a new one, should not be begun without some clue as to our theological bearings. In our Baptist world, the Baptist seminaries were, at that very moment, being devoured by a narrow, right-wing, anti-intellectual ideology. Baptist theological education was being shipwrecked on the rocky shoals of irrelevance, crippled by the bitter and hostile winds of a barbaric fundamentalism. And if any person on the Board had any notion that Mercer’s School of Theology would seek to replicate the narrowness that was dismantling the integrity of Southern Baptist seminaries, they deserved to see the priorities we were setting.

Context is important here. Mercer University has a long and noble tradition of affirming academic and religious freedom and of affirming respect for religious diversity. This School of Theology was to be founded in this high Mercer tradition. So, it was critical, I believed, for the Trustees of the University not simply to vote on beginning one more School of Theology. The world did not need and Baptists did not need one more School of Theology. This School was not about gaining political advantage, even in a Baptist world where petty politics had gained ascendancy. This School, above all else, was about freeing the human spirit to learn and to care, without fear of doctrinaire intimidation. What was needed was a new and different kind of initiative in theological education – an initiative that did not fear the search for truth, an initiative that understood Jesus Christ, not the Bible, to be the central word of God, an initiative that affirmed both women and men as instruments of God’s voice, an initiative that sought to reclaim the high and defining traditions of Baptists that were being tossed aside by religious bigotry and ignorance.

So, Mercer University and its Board of Trustees did not meet on that June morning, simply to begin one more school of theology. They met to establish what would become the James and Carolyn McAfee School of Theology – a distinctive place whose destiny, I am more confident on this 10th anniversary than ever before, is to become one of the most promising and faithful schools of theology in the nation.

After hearing the extensive reports and debating the considerable challenges we faced, the Trustees of Mercer voted on that morning of June 28th to establish the School of Theology. The vote was unanimous. And following that action, Trustee David Hudson, now Chairman of Mercer’s Board of Trustees, made a motion that the Principles I had outlined should serve as a guide, a touchstone, for the development of the School.

Somewhat to my surprise, the Founding Principles have come to serve us in two ways that linger: First, they provided a universe, a framework, a clearing, within which we could begin the journey of building a school. Building a school is a process that is never finished. So, these Principles were not a creed to be adopted or a rigid orthodoxy by which to test the curriculum. Never. The Principles are not inviolable rules or barrier-like boundaries. They served more as a clearing in which faculty and staff and the Dean could go about the good and continuing work of crafting the McAfee School of Theology.

But the Founding Principles have come to serve us in a second way, and in this way, their presence can become a metaphor for our own lives and our own ministries in this fragile, war-torn world, a world in which religious devotion run amuck is raining down a deluge of destruction amidst humankind. The affirmation of the Founding Principles by the Board of Trustees on June 28, 1994 marked an intersection of human initiative and the conviction that something of ultimate significance could take place here at this new and visionary School of Theology. I call it the intersection of the human and the holy. The Founding Principles should remind us that building a School is not only human work. It is holy work.

There lies, in my judgment, the chief enduring meaning of these Principles. From time to time, it will be important to return to our Founding, to that moment in our own history where we believe that human initiative and holy purpose converged. It is not important to make too much of the words we have written. The words are human. Every generation of faculty and students must read them with their own cadence. So, here on the 10th Anniversary Year, we should not become trapped by the limits of language, but let the words signal this remarkable intersection of human initiative and the holy purpose. That intersection changes everything. Because of that intersection, it is possible for passion and ideas to be transformed into a School of enduring significance and promise.

Yet, celebrating that will and passion is not enough. That alone will become simply self-indulgence. This moment should call us, as well, to remember the intersections in our own personal histories that have brought us to be a part of the McAfee School of Theology. Every person here, to some measure, is a founder of McAfee. Some of you study here. Some of you have found your way here for the first time and you begin your learning this week with anxiety, mixed with a touch of wonder and eagerness. Studying here will change your life forever. Some of you bring theological education to life in classrooms and beyond. You enable learning and ideas to take on flesh and blood. Your teaching will reverberate through the lives of your students for years to come. Some of you here caucused and dreamed the possibility of this School and persuaded others to join your noble pursuit. Some of you, like James and Carolyn McAfee, secured the foundations and the future of this School for generations to come. So, to some measure, each person here is caught up in the ministry of McAfee. So, hear this word: Every hand that reaches out and touches a broken heart, every sermon that brings grace down to earth, every prayer that comforts somebody’s hurt, every cup that brings renewal and hope to someone’s lips will forever bear the imprint of your presence. It will bear the imprint of your will, and your energy, in the creation of a School named McAfee.

Think about it. Every act of caring has a founding place, a creative source. I call it the intersection of the human and the holy. So, my word this morning is that our lives, even our ministries, will not be defined by the churches we attend, or the beliefs we espouse, or the sermons we preach. Our lives will not be defined by the races we win, or the worlds we conquer. They will be defined by the intersections that capture our imagination and add color and texture to our lives. The intersections of the human and holy are present in all of our personal histories; the only issue is whether we open our eyes to those moments that blaze up and can set us afire with a new sense of understanding what on earth we are doing here.

How profoundly you and I need a creative and compelling reason for being here. We live such fractured and cluttered lives. We are, in truth, intimidated by our own humanness; even while we try to hide our vulnerability. Our human burdens sometimes become woefully heavy. We want to give up. The power of ministry, for which we prepare people here at McAfee, for goodness sake, is not about making the human load harder to lift. It is not about piling on one more layer of guilt for our losses and our failures that leave us feeling defeated. It is about leaning in and lifting one another above the bumper to bumper, stalled-out traffic of our lives – lives that are filled with frightful uncertainty, lives that feel burdens of regret, lives that cope with mountains of fear and shadows of remorse. Ministry is about becoming a voice of light and hope in a world where revenge and violence seem to be unraveling the edges of civilization. Our challenge is to become for somebody who has a face and a name, an intersection where human frailty meets up with holy strength, where tragedy meets up with hope.

The real gift we have to offer is not simply to help a person discover that God is walking along with her at the shadow’s edge. The real gift is to discover that the holy lies within that person and within each of us. In truth, the holy is often hidden by the difficulties and anxieties that consume us. But let us be reminded: The holy is not somewhere else in the world. The holy is in us and in our enemy as well. It is simply covered up by our own preoccupations and our own resentments. The rich, the poor, the sinner, the saint, the upright, the battered and broken, the successful and the failed, are all bearers of the holy.

As we celebrate Founder’s Day, let us understand that theological education, above all else, probes the power and mystery of God’s actual presence in ordinary human experience. The Holy is not our possession to mete out as God’s chosen few. The Holy is not even the possession of Christians. It would be nearer the truth to say that the Holy possesses us.

The Holy is God’s presence in a world where religion has become a part of the human problem. The Holy is God’s presence within those who make war and those who are victims of war. I wonder if we have the courage to see God in such distant places and within the people who call God by another name. Can we understand, do we have the courage to understand, that God is not the enemy of the Shiites and the friend of the Jews. God is not the enemy of the Muslim and the friend of the Christian. God embraces all creation and weeps at our inhumanity and incivility toward one another, while wearing the mantle of justice and righteousness.

Frankly, we too often try to remake the world on our own terms. Having convinced ourselves that we are the instruments of God, we find ourselves sometimes even snuffing out innocent life and we dehumanize our tragic condition by referring to it as collateral damage. We do so with the conviction that God is on our side. Yet, in the deep night, we wonder about our convictions and our actions. Let us have ears to hear: The intersection of the human and the holy changes everything. It changes the center of gravity of our lives. It changes who we are, how we think, the priorities we choose, the paths we take, the people we embrace, the wars we wage. It changes what matters in our lives. The intersection of the human and the holy changes history.

Let us attend to this word: We must listen to the holy if we are ever to become genuinely human. We may pretend that we can chart our course with human initiative alone. We so often live our lives driven by the destructive and treacherous combination of fear and arrogance. On this Founders’ Day, remember this lesson above all else: Only the holy will make us human. Ten years ago, I believe that the intersection of human initiative with holy purpose changed the story of this University. We created a school called McAfee. I believe today that if we will open our ears, if we will open our hearts to the holy, it will change the story or our lives and even the story of our nation.