Five Things I Learned in Seminary So You Don’t Have To!
From Dunning-Kruger to Bible Interpretation, the last four years in a nutshell...
I graduated this weekend with my Masters degree in Anabaptist Studies after four years of late-night paper writing, growing book stacks in every corner of the house, a 60-page thesis on the creative arts as non-violent resistance against injustice, and classes every Tuesday night from 7-9:40 PM. I enrolled in the Anabaptist Studies program because, after a giant crisis of faith, the Anabaptist tradition was a single thread tethering me to Christianity when I was ready to throw in the towel. As I’ve reflected on my experience, I wrote down the top five things I learned in seminary that might be helpful for you, too:
1. The Dunning-Kruger Effect
The Dunning-Kruger Effect is the name for when people who lack knowledge and skill drastically overestimate their competence precisely because of their incompetence. Here’s a helpful illustration to explain:
I learned to see this pattern in both myself and others in Seminary. My first class was a Survey of the Old Testament. After I read the books and took my first class, I was like, “Wow! The OT isn’t that complicated after all!” With brazen confidence, I told Todd about covenants and the Dead Sea Scrolls and creation theories every week, certain I had a grasp on this whole Bible thing. With time, though, my professor— an actual expert in the OT— patiently taught us about the nuances and tensions that make the Bible the complicated, beautiful anthology it has always been. The more I learned, the less competent I felt. I seriously think I’m still in the insecure canyon but it’s fine.
The Dunning-Kruger Effect has been helpful outside of Seminary, too. It shows up on social media all day. It's folks who speak with extreme confidence about the Bible, God, psychology, climate change, vaccines, the Supreme Court— you name it, they have the answers. Most often, these extremely loud voices are just at the peak of the Child’s Hill (also called “Mount Stupid” in other graphs). They overestimate their knowledge because of their lack of knowledge. I’ve noticed actual experts aren’t so showy about it because they recognize the complexities of their own fields of study.
My takeaway from Dunning-Kruger is to fight the ego-driven drift which seeks to set myself up as expert. Instead, I want my posture to be as a learner. Comfortable with how little I know. Comfortable with saying, “I don’t know.” Comfortable with changing my mind. Comfortable with being taught. It has also given me a radar to recognize when folks are on the Child’s Hill. It’s all part of development and each of us will go up and down that hill a million times in our lives, but I have learned to take “Child’s Hill claims” with a grain of salt. If I hear folks say something like, “It’s really not that complicated” my antennae perk up because, more often than not, it is that complicated.
2. The Bible is really, really complicated
Part of me wishes the Bible was a simple life manual instead of a complicated, ancient, and sometimes confusing collection of stories. I thought I would graduate with some answers about the Bible… or at least with fewer questions. Instead, I came out with more questions, albeit different ones, about how the Bible works.
I used to think there was only one right meaning for a passage. Only one correct interpretation. Only one way of looking at the text. Seminary taught me there is a long history of Biblical interpretation in which Christians and Jews have worked with the text in a kaleidoscope of ways. There has never been a time everyone agreed about each and every verse. Christians in Haiti in 2023 will not interpret 1 John like Northern Irish Catholics in the 1970s. Your community- wherever you are- will not interpret Genesis like Israelites in the Ancient Near East.
And that’s okay.
The Bible is complicated and so is our practice of interpretation. Yet the role it continues to play in the Jewish and Christian faith traditions speaks to the beauty of its mysterious inspiration.
3. There has never been a time in history when Christians agreed about everything
Church history is extremely human. The arguments. The creeds. The Reformation. The crusades. The politics.
I remember writing about Felix Manz, a Radical Reformer in the 1520s who was executed by a council in Zürich because he rejected their edict and re-baptized adults. At the time, infant baptism was the norm and represented unity with the Holy Roman Empire. Re-baptism symbolized separation from the Empire and a rejection of what was called Magisterial Reformation— a state-backed church.
Manz was the first of over 2,000 people to die for re-baptism. The council tied his hands and feet to a pole and threw him into a river and left him to drown. The council were Christians, of course, and ironically believed they were honoring God. When I learned stories like this it reminded me that there has never been a time in Church history where we agreed about everything. To act like our version of events is the one, true, pure religion is arrogant and ignorant. Too often, we say we are defending Truth when we are just defending our own perspective.
Paul and Barnabas disagreed and ultimately cut ties. Origen and Candidus disagreed over predestination. Pelagius and Augustine disagreed over original sin. Luther disagreed with the Pope because of indulgences, so the Pope excommunicated Luther. Calvin disagreed with Michael Servetus over the Trinity, and Servetus was ultimately put to death because of it. And now, though we have mercifully stopped killing each other over theological disagreements, we continue to be violent with our words and judgments.
If you were a Christian in the 1520s in Zurich, I bet re-baptism felt like a matter of life or death for Christianity. If folks were to get re-baptized and cut ties with the Empire, where would the madness stop? Who would defend orthodoxy? Who would stand for truth?
But now, looking back, it seems Christianity survived after all. And, to the council of Zürich’s dismay, Anabaptism is still a thing. And Lutherans are still a thing. And infant baptism is still a thing. And re-baptism is still a thing. And adults get baptized all the time and Jesus is not freaking out. And, maybe most importantly, two thousand people were executed for no reason.
How do we learn from this part of our history? How do we stop turning knives on each other for disagreeing about theology? Can we learn to humbly submit in love to one another and trust the Spirit’s work?
4. All translation is interpretation!
Every translation of the Bible is an interpretation of the Bible. So when you read the ESV or KJV or NRSV, you are reading someone’s interpretation of the Hebrew/Greek/Aramaic. And because Hebrew/Greek/Aramaic does not function like English, interpretation actually plays a big role in translation.
And— you might be sensing a theme here— but one reason there are so many translations of the Bible is because everyone does not agree about how to interpret certain texts. It’s hard. There are some words in the Bible that we have no cross references for, so scholars have made their best educated guesses about what they mean (authenteō in 1 Timothy is a great example of this, and how various interpretations of this word have had grave consequences).
At first, this scared me because I thought the key to certainty was finding a perfect translation of the Bible or something. But I’ve come to love this part of our Biblical tradition. Humans have played a role since day 1 and we continue to play a vital role today. God seems to insist on it. God does not lobotomize us and insert truth, removing our ability to think, wrestle, make mistakes, and grow. Instead, it seems the whole thing was set up to keep us engaged in the process. From writing to interpreting to translating to speaking, human fingerprints are all over the Bible’s history.
5. Trust is not the same as belief
When differentiating between trust and belief, my professor pointed to a chair and said, “Belief is saying, ‘If I sat in that chair I know it would hold me up because it has four legs, it’s made of wood, etc…’”
“But trust,” he said, “is sitting in the chair.” He sat down and smiled.
This changed everything for me. To trust Jesus is to sit in the chair. It is following him. Living like him. Obeying his commands. Loving my neighbors. Loving him. It is actively being molded into his likeness.
Being a Christian is not defined by a perfect set of beliefs.
Beliefs matter, but beliefs also change. Differentiating trust from belief can be immensely helpful for this reason. Even now, when I am faced with new information about the Bible or history or sociology, I feel less pressure to have all the answers. My beliefs are not the center of my life. They can change without losing my trust in God. Trust is not stagnant doctrine about how chairs are made. Trust is actively putting myself in the way of God and opening myself to the mercy of God.
Now that you’ve read this, you’ve basically been to seminary! Fastest path to a Master’s degree ever.
Sending my love!
-Savannah
Writing Prompt: Do any of these stand out to you in your own experience?
Recommended Reading: In case you’re on the hunt for a different Bible translation, my favorite study Bible is the NRSV Cultural Backgrounds one… and it looks like it’s on sale right now! Yay!
Thank you so much for sharing! These are such great points and takeaways, I’m saving this post to come back to!
The last point in particular is something which struck a chord, that belief and trust are different things. Trust requires more than belief does, but it doesn’t require perfect belief! And I like the way you wrote it, that because of that we can keep trusting even as our beliefs are being formed and altered on the way :)
Because of you, I picked up the NRSV cultural studies Bible...but I have not yet picked it up. Thank you for reminding me of it. And CONGRATS on graduating! 🥳💜