Reflecting on Princeton

I’ve updated this post a bit as I’ve continued to reflect on my experience. I’ve also added a few more thoughts.

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I’ve been struggling to write the last few days. I wouldn’t exactly call it writer’s block, but every time I start writing, I immediately think “that’s not a good post,” and I either delete it or save it to the drafts. So I’ve decided to reflect on Princeton a little bit because sometimes remembering those important decisions helps me write. So hopefully this post is interesting to you. Especially after working at Fuller, it’s made me appreciate the education that I received at Princeton. Not that Fuller is a bad school; quite the opposite actually. But Princeton, for me, is on a totally different level for a number of reasons, and I’m hoping that I can reflect on that in this post.

When I first started thinking about seminary, Princeton was not my first choice. Not because I didn’t think it was a good school, but because I wanted to save it for my Ph.D. studies. Not knowing the intricacies of post-college education, I thought that I would be better served by going to Fuller for my M.Div., and then going on to Princeton after that. I knew I was going to take a year off between undergrad and grad school, but I still wanted to discuss my options with trusted mentors, and there is one particular conversation that sticks out to me. I remember sitting down with my English professor during my senior year (a graduate of Princeton Seminary), and telling him about my plans. During that conversation, he suggested that I seriously consider Princeton for my M.Div. instead of Fuller. Though Fuller is a good school, he said, it would be too similar to my undergrad education. If I really wanted to diversify my education and get a new and different experience, he thought I should really think about Princeton. It was that conversation that changed my perspective and ultimately led me to apply only to Princeton. Fuller was still my back up, but I felt confident that Princeton should be my main priority. And of course, I ended up being accepted.

My experience at Princeton was not easy. In fact, for most of my time there, I seriously questioned whether I should stay there. The other graduates of the seminary I spoke to had only good things to say and they all felt like Princeton was their second home. I couldn’t sympathize with them while I was there. If you visit my blog while I was in school (theologicalmishaps.blogspot.com), you’ll see some of that uncertainty present. It took me a long time to feel comfortable. I felt out of place, a lonely West Coaster in the heart of the cold Northeast. I was constantly challenged (and behind) in my classes, often feeling inadequate and undeserving of being there, especially during my first two years. I was surrounded by people who were smarter than me, deeper than me, better students, and more involved in the school and community. I would sometimes stare at my readings, re-reading sentences three or four times and still having no idea what was being said. I would start writing papers, and then delete them because I felt like they weren’t up to the level they needed to be.

 

About a month into my first semester, I wrote an email to my former English professor during my first semester saying that I felt completely inadequate, alone, and wondering whether I should continue. Once again, his response gave me new perspective. Much of what he said to me is what I feel now about my time there. What made Princeton special is that it pushed me beyond my comfort zone because of the level of expertise and knowledge I was surrounded by. When students first arrived, everyone’s goes through the same set of fears and worries. Everyone feels inadequate, because we realize that everyone is smart. Not just book smart, but critically thoughtful. We realized that our professors would not let us get away with bad thinking or bad research, and their wealth of knowledge backed up their arguments. They made us feel inadequate by how much they knew, how deeply they challenged us, and sometimes by showing us how weak our arguments were. They didn’t do this intentionally (at least most didn’t) and they did not want to make us feel stupid. Rather, they wanted to show us that we had room to grow. The truth is that we were inadequate, but we didn’t have to remain that way.

During that first semester, that realization was difficult to deal with, but when we realized the standards were raised, we rose to meet those standards too. That was part of what made Princeton great: our community was committed to becoming better. A lot of this happened subconsciously and subtlely, and for some it was an easier adjustment than others, but we were always being pushed to the next level and choosing to meet that next level together. If we met the standard, we were pushed to go beyond it. We were constantly kept uncomfortable so that we could raise ourselves to be more thoughtful theologians, more critical thinkers, and ultimately better leaders and pastors.

At Princeton, I learned to be a more critical thinker. I learned how to ask more questions, dig deeper, strive to go farther in what we were doing. We were asked to to be broader in our thinking, more aware of hidden motivations and subtle assumptions. I was taught to be a better writer and a better thinker, and I learned that the two go hand-in-hand. I was pushed to read more than I’ve ever read in my life, to write more than I’ve ever written, and to think more deeply about issues than I thought was possible. It wasn’t all enjoyable. In fact, it was painful most of the time. I would commiserate with my friends who were also buried in work and being pushed to go farther. But when it was all said and done, I could look back at where we had been and what we had accomplished, the gap between where I had started and where I had ended was farther than I ever realized.

Much of that didn’t sink in until well after I graduated. But as more time has passed, I have come to appreciate that experience more and more. I appreciate the time that I spent there much more now, but I also regret that I didn’t do more. Princeton gave you essentially what you put into it. While I put in a good effort, I often wish I had put in more.

I mentioned this a little earlier, but a great blessing of Princeton was its community. Living at Princeton is an interesting experience. It is primarily a residential school, a bit of an anomaly for seminaries. It was also what made Princeton really special. We were constantly surrounded by leaders in the academy, leaders in the church, and most importantly, our classmates. We all went through the same classes together at the beginning, and our class (about 130 students) was small enough that we all could get to know each other. We celebrated with our triumphs, and we supported each other during our failures. We didn’t always see eye to eye. Some of my most memorable conversations around the lunch and dinner table was when we disagreed. Those were also some of my favorite conversations. Those conversations pushed us to those next levels of critical thinking. Even if we thought we were right, we were pushed hard to prove it. We couldn’t get away with bad thinking whether it was with professors or with colleagues, and it’s a challenge that I miss. As I look at my friends now who are serving at churches, I see that thoughtfulness shine through in their work and sermons, and it’s something I’ve tried to carry in my work too.

The one thing I am most thankful to Princeton for, though, has nothing to do with academics. Princeton restored my faith in the church. In the post about my undergrad, I talked about how my undergrad made me a church cynic. I left the school feeling like the Church was the enemy, not the body of Christ; that it was the problem and not the solution. When I arrived at Princeton, I expected that cynicism to increase. Even worse, I thought my cynicism would help me get through seminary. I was shocked when my cynicism was met with a challenge. Whether fair or not, my perception of Princeton was that it was anti-church. They cared about academics and not the life of the Church. I thought they cared more about producing publications than producing good pastors. Much of that perspective came from people I knew who only knew Princeton as outsiders and not as students, and thankfully I was proven very wrong. We weren’t taught that the church is perfect. The Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) has a pretty sad track record when it comes to being a model of Christian witness (particularly on slavery and civil rights). But we were taught that the Church is still Christ’s body. Despite its flaws, it is still the body that God has chosen to be his witness in the world. It was Princeton, of all places, that taught me to remember this.

In the end, Princeton has come to feel like a second home to me, though I have not been able to go back since graduation. I miss the community that I was a part of, the scholars I was surrounded by, and the thoughtfulness that I learned to appreciate. I don’t particularly miss the work (though sometimes in my odd moments I do), but I do miss the challenge. As I look at the students I have worked with at the schools since I left Princeton, I have come to appreciate that challenge more and more. I don’t complain about large projects or hard work because I know that that challenge is what pushes me to be better. I’m hoping that one day I can continue my education and teach others to have that same passion, but we’ll see if God has different plans. My experience at Princeton is something I will never forget.