Reimagining Seminary as Neo-Monastic Cohorts

Theological education and pastoral training are in a state of flux. Many seminaries are slashing budgets and laying off faculty in response to declining enrollment. 

This is just the beginning. All institutions of higher education are bracing themselves for the demographic cliff (the number of high school students across the country is about to decline rapidly). Seminaries anticipate fewer graduates pursuing ministry degrees. There’s already a shift away from the cherished Master of Divinity, as more and more students opt for degrees with less stringent requirements. The prevalence of online courses and digital delivery has dramatically reshaped expectations around cost and convenience. What’s more, the anti-institutional ethos of our age combined with the diversity of political and social views among students, faculty, staff, and alumni—even those who adhere to the same confession of faith—make leadership in this era fraught with peril, ever vulnerable to controversy. 

Seminaries are groaning and fracturing beneath the weight of this pressure. Some schools will close. Others will consolidate with larger or sister institutions, as denominations consider more efficient ways to share resources. Some will continue to survive, but just barely, while a few will no doubt thrive in the new landscape.

In the midst of this uncertainty, one thing is for sure: theological education will not disappear. Churches will still need pastors, and pastors will continue to look to seminaries to supplement the instruction they receive in the church; they’ll look to seminaries to equip them with theological education and prepare them for ministry.

But what should the next era of theological education look like? Will it be dominated by online courses? Will requirements to learn Greek and Hebrew fall away? Will there be a return to the traditional model of living in proximity to a seminary and taking classes in person? 

It’s time to reimagine the future of the seminary, to strive for a model that makes affordable and convenient what was best in the traditional seminary experience, yet resists the tendency to move everything online. I believe schools should experiment with a “Neo-monastic Cohort Model” for theological education. Before I sketch out what that looks like, I should walk through the variety of educational options that marked my own pursuit of an MDiv.

A Patchwork of Seminary Experiences

When I started my MDiv in the mid 2000’s, the degree demanded more than 90 credit hours, and it took most students about four years to complete. I entered seminary when theological education was at an inflection point—more flexible options were just emerging. I took full advantage of these alternatives, experiencing nearly every format available—traditional residential, extension center classes, week-long intensives, online courses, and independent study. Each approach had benefits and drawbacks.

Traditional Residential 

I started off residential. For three semesters, I lived with my wife and our oldest son just a few miles from the seminary. I worked two (at one point, three) part-time jobs to cover our expenses while taking eleven to twelve credit hours each semester. Most of my classmates were in a similar stage of life—mid-to-late twenties, living near campus, attending chapel twice a week, juggling work responsibilities, and forming friendships.

This was the traditional model: in-person classes, robust theological conversations, and immersion in an academic environment. The benefits were obvious—face-to-face engagement with professors, mentorship from experienced ministers, all within an atmosphere of serious study. The downsides were financial and time constraints, which in recent years have accelerated for many students the abandonment of this model.

Extension Center

When a ministry opportunity opened up in another state, I took a staff position at a church and transitioned to distance learning. For several semesters, I attended classes at an extension center. Professors from the seminary traveled to the location and taught in three-hour blocks. Every Monday, I devoted six hours for two classes (plus commuting time). 

The extension center delivered a different set of benefits. Because I was with the same students over multiple semesters, we developed the feel of a cohort gaining an education together. The distance-learning students tended to be a little older, already practitioners in local church ministry, and so the conversations reflected on-the-front-lines experience. 

Week-long Intensives

Throughout this season of life, I also took week-long intensives (J-Terms, primarily in the summer). This meant traveling to the seminary for a week at a time. The classes were all-day long and required substantial reading and writing both before and after the week of face-to-face interaction. The upside was the convenience of bundling all the class-time into one intense week, while still maintaining the semester feel due to multiple assignments stretching over several months.

Online Courses and Independent Study

Toward the end of my journey, I dipped in to a few online courses, watching lectures on my laptop (back then, mailed to me as DVDs), participating in forum discussions, and taking quizzes and exams online. The benefit here was excellent instruction from star professors, but the downside was little-to-no personal access to the teachers, and no opportunity for sharpening conversations with other colleagues. 

I finished my degree with what’s called an independent study, an elective course tailored to my interests that required me to work directly with a professor (several times, in person) as I accomplished all the reading and writing assignments. 

Looking Back

To sum up: I experienced every mode of seminary education on offer at the time. (Since then, a newer model has risen—centers or institutes associated with larger churches that partner with seminaries while focusing primarily on residencies or internship programs.)

Looking back, it was in-person learning with access to the professor and fellowship with colleagues (Residential, Extension Center, and J-Terms) that left the deepest impact. I remember the rooms where I first encountered transformative ideas. I can recount even now particular moments of debate in the classroom, hallway conversations with professors, and the sharpening of my thinking through engagement with my peers. 

In contrast, trying to recall the online courses is like peering into a fog. I’m sure I gleaned something from the reading and writing, but I can barely recall anything from the experience itself, even though I sat through at least 40 hours of video for each one (a time commitment much higher than the current average of 10-15 hours, with higher emphasis on discussion boards).

To be clear, I’m thankful for the flexibility and accessibility of online education. I actually think this method can be effective under certain conditions. Still, I fear this trend redefines seminary as “downloadable knowledge from experts”—as if theological training consists merely of acquiring the right information. You watch the videos, do some busywork, pass the class, so you can get your credentials. 

(Some institutions, in response to the lackluster experience of online-only courses, have tried a hybrid model of live-streaming whatever is taking place in the classroom, piping in students via Zoom. The technological capability for this approach was not available when I was pursuing my Masters, but I’ve experienced this method on the other side of the lectern, as a visiting professor at Wheaton College during the Covid era. It is an improvement over online-only courses, for sure, but it still has its drawbacks. Students who tune in to the classroom via live-stream, especially during week-long intensives—while thankful for the convenience—acknowledge the difficulty of looking so long at a screen without succumbing to distraction. And while technological advances have made interaction easier, there’s still an element of awkwardness in the room when a handful of classmates try to participate via the screen.)

Challenges Facing Seminaries Today

It should be clear by now that seminaries are buckling under the strain of internal and external pressures. The number of required credit hours has been reduced for many degrees. Gone is the expectation that students will uproot their families and relocate to a campus. Many schools are shedding their facilities and offering degrees entirely online, accommodating the demand for convenience and flexibility. As in-person education shrinks, the experience of campus life and corporate worship transforms into something optional, not essential.

For faculty, these shifts can be demoralizing. In the traditional model, professors were expected to live near campus, since the majority of students were residents taking a full load of courses. But today, as more students are remote, many professors find themselves teaching to mostly-empty classrooms, or engaging with students via Zoom, or answering questions about pre-recorded lectures. What was once a valued connection to a thriving center of education now feels more like being trapped in a ghost town.

Furthermore, as seminaries scale back the number of full-time positions, remaining faculty members are prodded toward heavier teaching loads that impinge upon their time for research and publishing, or keep them from refining and bringing up to date their class notes and lectures. This scenario stretches even the most gifted teachers beyond their capacity, replacing the joy of face-to-face interaction and mentorship with a harried life of diminishing returns, until the part-time life of an adjunct begins to look attractive.

Likewise, administrative headaches flare up under the increasing burden of buildings. A generation ago, the existence of shiny new facilities signaled to visitors a school’s momentum and expansion. Today the responsibility of maintaining large, underused facilities feels more like an albatross. Even though fewer students live on campus, staff must figure out how to pay for the upkeep of dormitories, a library, administrative offices, and food services. 

Across the country, seminaries are doing what they can to address these concerns. Some have launched new scholarships to make in-person instruction more attractive. Others have started global partnerships to fill the void with students from overseas. Some have rented out their buildings to other ministries in need of offices. A handful have expanded their undergraduate offerings, trading the traditional residency of MDiv students for a college environment—whatever it takes to steward the facilities well. 

The challenges facing seminaries are many. There are hardworking men and women doing the best they can in these fast-changing circumstances, pouring into those who will lead the church in the future. They deserve our praise, and our prayers. But while I applaud the admirable attempts of seminary leaders to find solutions for inherited facilities, it’s good to ask if, long-term, the stewardship of buildings should drive the strategy and vision of seminary education. We should also ask if the trend toward “online-everything” is beneficial for the church.

A Modest Proposal

In light of these challenges, I’d like to paint a picture of a different kind of seminary experience that would stand out in a world like ours.

I worry the push to disembodied education reflects the loss of something deeper, something intangible yet powerful in the seminary experience. If the fullness of pastoral ministry cannot happen except through real-world environments with flesh-and-blood, gathered people, why would we think training for pastoral ministry can happen solely via pixels? An incarnational view of seminary education takes us beyond learning facts, reading books, and passing exams. The seminary experience can play a critical role in spiritual formation, with offerings oriented toward the shaping of ministers who grow in wisdom within an environment marked by worship and prayer. 

The current climate that prioritizes convenience makes it nearly impossible to maintain this incarnational, doxological orientation. So why not experiment with a model that combines the best aspects of traditional residential seminary with the flexibility of modern ministry, while resisting the commodification of theological education through online-only experiences?

A Neo-Monastic Cohort Model

This is where a neo-monastic cohort model might find a place. It might be a fit for successful seminaries looking to add another option, for struggling seminaries in need of reinvention, or for church leaders looking to launch new seminaries in the years to come.

Here’s a picture of what this proposal looks like. (Keep in mind this is a thought experiment, not a fully-formed action plan with all the details established.)

Neo-monastic: The seminary experience invites a student to retreat from the world twice a year for a week of classroom time, with limited access to the internet, where face-to-face interaction with professors and colleagues is paramount. Morning prayer precedes classroom instruction, and evening prayer follows dinner, so that the day is formed around worship. I describe it as “neo-monastic” because it would be like getting away to a monastery where you live a semi-monkish life of training for a week.

Cohort: New students join a cohort of no more than 20 individuals who commit to the multi-year experience of growing together. The number of specific MDiv tracks are limited, as priority is given to the experience of undergoing rigorous theological study together. Friendships are forged over time, and ministries are strengthened by the sharpening interaction that takes place through established relationships.

Let’s say you’re a minister who wants to enroll. What would the experience look like? Upon enrolling, you are selected for a cohort that will meet in person for two courses a year: Winter and Summer (or Fall and Spring). In the lead-up to those weeks, you read the assigned books and work on the necessary papers and projects. For the week-long experience, you travel to a designated conference center for a spiritual retreat, where you will stay for five full days and nights. All meals are catered. Phones are set aside during class, and there’s no access to WiFi for laptops. Part of the experience centers on the gift of your full presence, as you meet in-person with others training for ministry, and glean wisdom from each other and the professor leading the class. Every day begins and ends with corporate prayer. After the retreat, you finish up your papers and projects as the course comes to an end. You take two other courses a year—one that is online, generally focused on mastering particular details (Greek and Hebrew, etc.), and one that is a hybrid between an independent study and a practical ministry course (personal spiritual disciplines, applied theology). Electives are available via independent study with a professor of choice. The goal would be 12 credit hours a year.

The Benefits of This Model 

This neo-monastic cohort model would be a step in the right direction in fulfilling the deeper, formational goals of seminary. It combines the best of the distance-learning cohort model, the intensity of a J-Term’s week-long classes, and the in-person interaction with professors and classmates, within an atmosphere of prayer and worship.

This proposal eliminates the need for a seminary to maintain all the costs associated with a campus. Instead of half-empty buildings driving strategy around stewardship, all the seminary’s resources could be devoted to delivering education designed to deeply form a student’s heart. Little conference and retreat centers dot the American landscape, and more than one could be rented out for this purpose. Larger centers might accommodate multiple cohorts and professors at the same time, bringing everyone together for meals, and morning and evening prayer, while splitting up into their respective classes during the day. By reducing overhead, the degree would be more affordable, perhaps to offset the travel expenses students would encounter twice a year. 

This proposal would also free up professors to live wherever they choose, as long as they can be present for the courses they teach and a faculty retreat once or twice a year. Under this scenario, professors would have more time to focus on their research and teaching, while still cultivating deep and lasting friendships with their students.

I urge seminary leaders to consider piloting something like this, perhaps on a small scale. What if several schools outlined criteria for measuring its success (student satisfaction, spiritual growth, faculty considerations, preparation for ministry) and then implemented this model as a test? The institutions that either incorporate something like this, or reinvent themselves around this model, or start with this vision in place could be the trail blazers for a new era of theological education. 

The reason I’m bullish about this proposal is that I’ve seen aspects of it at work in smaller and larger seminary environments. At Cedarville, I’ve seen how powerful a daily gathering for worship can be for a student body. During the seminar phase of my PhD studies at Southeastern, I experienced the benefit of a cohort model built around week-long intensives. At Wycliffe Hall, I’ve sensed the doxological difference morning prayer makes when we all gather in the little chapel behind the classrooms. Through Wheaton and Talbot, I’ve taught cohorts of men and women with various ministry callings—coming together for week-long intensives in Chicago, New York, Oxford, and Los Angeles—and I’ve been struck by the sharpening conversations that take place once a sense of safety and honesty envelops all the participants on this journey together.

Substance Over Superficiality

To bring these elements together would infuse seminary education with a strong dose of desperately needed monkish-ness. The church today is hungry for ministers of the gospel who stand out as people of substance in a world of superficiality. 

We need pastors whose lives display the wisdom and credibility of being—really being—with people, not merely institutional credentials received after downloading information. 

I’m not suggesting we force a return to the once-dominant model of traditional residential learning for seminarians. That may still work in a handful of places with major scholarships and a high-quality faculty, but most often, seminaries are understandably scrambling to find other avenues for students and revenue. Instead of expanding and extending an ever-widening array of options designed for convenience, what if seminaries considered alternative approaches designed for deeper, richer, spiritual formation, flowing from theological education suffused by worship in community? A neo-monastic cohort would be a good step in a better direction.

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