Quilt Theology

I have been reflecting on the feedback that my seminary professors give me.  I am impressed over the time and care that they take.  Having spent my adult working life among teachers, I know that solid written feedback is not always a given.

I've been enjoying writing a weekly journal entry for my Church History I class.  In this writing, I can do the kind of writing that I like best, which is not the kind of writing that is stressed in the more formal papers where I need to demonstrate that I know and understand the history, without inserting my 21st century values.

Here's what I wrote a week ago:

It’s also interesting to think of the varieties of Christian expression while I’m at a retreat surrounded by quilters. I’m thinking that if you gave any of these quilters a pile of cloth, the same cloth in the same amount to the each quilter, we would end up with vastly different quilts. It seems like a great metaphor for so much: all the controversies that have consumed so much church time, all the ways of experiencing the Divine, all the ways of telling the same story, on and on I could go. It is a shame that we can’t simply admire each quilt without ripping it into shreds to prove that it’s not as valid as the quilt we like best.

And here's how my professor responded:

On the last, I take your point; but on the other hand, if someone were to bring in things that were single printed sheets rather than joined segments, and that were joined to their backing with superglue rather than stitching, and without the use of batting of any kind, someone might (reasonably) object that those things, whatever they are and however nice they might be, aren't really "quilts." In considerations either of transmitting the faith faithfully, or defending it against error (whether that error is something distant from us like Eutychian Chrisology, or something rather nearer like white nationalism), it's important to be clear about what it is, and what it isn't.

Back to me, writing this blog post:

I've continued thinking about my professor's response.  I admired how he gave an alternate view without making me feel stupid.  I spent the day thinking about his comments, realizing how I both agreed and disagreed with him.  

I'm grateful to get feedback that makes me feel like my writing has been read and evaluated in a deep way and feedback that stretches me and makes me think about new ways to improve.  The feedback from my seminary professors has helped to remind me that we don't all need to agree on our theology, and that wrestling with these issues can help us define our beliefs in a much deeper way than many believers will.