During my senior year in college it became obvious that God would have me do something other than what I had planned. Subtle hints, powerful experiences, and seamless transitions seemed to propel me toward Yale Divinity School. My father would have preferred a different vocation and expressed that by withdrawing financial support at the last minute. It was a blessing to choose my own path and yet a curse. Suddenly I had to figure out how to finance such a venture, even one called for by God. I clung to Augustine’s advice: “Work as if it all depended upon you and pray as if it all depended upon God.”

An Ivy League education in the mid-1980’s was close to $30,000. I had held jobs since I was fourteen but had not been responsible for putting myself totally through college. During the year of deferment I worked full time and lived with relatives, saving and applying for loans and scholarships. I was in a diocese that didn’t ordain women and so I would need to find other diocesan sponsorship if I wanted to be ordained. Yale would not allow another year’s deferment and so I went ahead without a diocese, figuring I could always teach if this vocational urge proved null and void. I loved being at Yale and over the course of three years, holding down a part time job, I managed, through scholarships and loans, to pay for a $90,000 education with only $22,000 worth of debt. It was worth every penny and I never regretted it or expected anyone other than me to pay for it. I graduated and worked in a church completing the ordination process in Maryland where I was asked to return to yet another Episcopal seminary to “fill in the gaps.” You are never more powerless in the Church than when you are a postulant for holy orders. You do what you are told and you don’t ask questions or refuse to do what is asked of you. School was something I enjoyed and figured if God had called me to this task of ordination, He wouldn’t abandon me and a way would be made. I worked three jobs while at Seabury-Western, one of the poorer of our seminaries. I applied for every national scholarship possible, but because I wasn’t a master of divinity student (having already received that degree) I was ineligible for much of what was offered. Maryland, for reasons that now escape me, had little support to offer either. Two thousand dollars does little to offset $27,000 a year. Again, I figured God would provide. The only other option was not to go and hence not to be ordained. God seemed to provide for other seminarians, some of whom came from dioceses that supported them in full. Others had spouses who worked or supportive parents. Some left seminary and went to churches that took responsibility for their educational debt, knowing that clerical life (unless you are a tele-evangelist) is not a lucrative profession. I worried about the eventual financial burden, but I had worked as if it all depended upon me and I certainly had prayed and hence figured I’d cross that bridge when I had to.

Little did I know the burden of debt! Prior to Yale I had never owed money to anyone. By the time I went to Seabury I had paid back $5,000 in three years of what I had borrowed at Yale on a salary of $21,000 a year. When I left Seabury in 1993 I was $48,000 in debt and will service that debt for another four years - the final total close to twice what I originally borrowed. I tried negotiating with the church pension fund to funnel my retirement into my debt, but they said “What happens if you become disabled or are still paying your debt at retirement? We are here to make sure you are well taken care of.” Needless to say, I took issue with those caring comments

God does provide. I found a job that I love and that offered me a living wage. There have been wonderful people along the way who made those seminary years possible when the diocese would at the last minute ask me to fly across the country for a ‘little meeting.’ There were folks who would offer generous gifts so that I might do something special like going to Israel for a term. There have been folks since who have responded in generous and kind ways to help with the debt. Had I known then what I know now, I would have insisted that the Church be more responsible for those it calls. I would have said, “You have called me to serve the church in the world. How will you help me do that financially?” Money is such a sensitive topic for most of us and particularly when God is involved. Yet, God’s minions are unlike any other

professional group. If you become a doctor or a teacher or a lawyer, your loans can be forgiven if you serve a poor community that needs you. If you serve in the Peace Corps in a developing country, your loans can be reduced or forgiven. Clearly I didn’t choose ordained ministry for the money, but I never thought it would be the institutional church that would create the most burdens for service.