What theological tradition do you belong to?
I belong to the Church of the Nazarene, a small denomination. It’s familiar to many Americans, especially those in the Bible Belt, but lesser known elsewhere. Doctrinally, it is very similar to the Methodist Church.
How did you first hear about the Gregorian University, and what made you decide to study here?
While studying Church History in college, I developed an interest in the pre-1515 and early church, and I wanted to study theology in a different tradition. My mentor, a Nazarene professor who had studied at Leuven, was the first person I expressed this desire to. When I met with him to discuss options beyond our Wesleyan-Evangelical world, he suggested several universities, including the Gregorian in Rome. The name ‘Gregorian’ may have initially stuck out due to the image of monks chanting, but after researching its diversity and the history of Jesuit education, I decided it was the place for me.
What has your Jesuit education at the Gregorian given you?
I’ve been profoundly impacted by how they connect the academic world with the lived reality of the church. Many Jesuits seem equally comfortable in a pastoral role as they are teaching theology. In contrast, I’ve often felt that various Protestant movements have historically divorced or strained these
two realities. It is a tension in every tradition, but the Jesuits, in my experience, actively live within that tension and strive to hold the two together. Their commitment to being both deeply academic and deeply spiritual has really impacted me.
You’re also a pastor. Can you tell me about that journey and how it happened?
I felt the call to ministry as a teenager and began the discernment process in college. I was ordained in my tradition after completing my STL. I jokingly say I took the “Jesuit route”: I completed the STB and STL, returned to pastoral ministry for three years, and then came back to pursue my doctorate.
During those three years pastoring my church, I learned the role while also navigating the challenges of the COVID-19 pandemic. I was surprised by how much joy I found in ministry, and I truly mean that. My first congregation was such a loving and supportive community, and they constantly made me laugh.
Did your time in Rome influence your ministry? If so, how?
It absolutely did. I constantly drew from what I learned here in my work as a pastor. I used Fr. Brodeur’s books on Paul for preaching; I pulled concepts from Prof. Costacurta’s beautiful lessons in Biblical studies for a study on Job; Fr. Kowalczyk’s integrative but orthodox approach to the Trinity deeply impacted my general approach to theology; and Fr. Renczes’ relational approach to grace resonated with my Wesleyan heart. I also returned often to Chrysostom’s Six Books on the Priesthood, which Fr. Carola assigned in our Patristics seminar. I reread them especially during seasons when ministry felt heavy, and I’ve recommended them many times since, telling others that every minister should read them. I truly can’t name all the ways Rome formed me. It was a deeply transformative time, even as a Protestant woman sitting in a sea of Catholic seminarians.
What are you studying now, and what drew you to that field?
I’m currently working on a PhD in the Church Fathers — Athanasius, to be exact. What drew me to that time and to those early thinkers is something I mentioned before: I love theology, but I care about the life of the Church. Patristic theology was very much written out of a “rubber meets the road” kind of time and situation. Many of the Fathers were pastors and bishops doing the best they could in seriously messy circumstances.
I think we take for granted how much had to be worked out in order to articulate the faith well. Many of them embodied — imperfectly, but faithfully — a deep concern both for the lived reality of the faithful and for careful study and theological reflection. They are also an important point of reference for ecumenism, since they are studied, read, and influential across all our traditions.
How has your time here shaped your view of ecumenism?
I’ve spent much of my adult life studying what is, in many ways, theoretical. There are certainly aspects of ecumenism that remain at that level, including differences in paradigms, vocabulary, and fundamental convictions. But my ecumenical experience here has been deeply “flesh and blood.”
I became the pastor not only because of what I learned in the classroom, but because of the sincere friendships built around faith that I developed with many of my Catholic peers. We share a mutual understanding of one another’s faith journeys – often, even more than I do with people with whom I might be more closely aligned doctrinally.
One of the most fascinating things to me, as simple as it may sound, is how many experiences are shared among Christians. It often takes encountering those experiences together and sharing our own stories to find a common way of speaking about them: experiences of conversion, compassion, and the joy and hope of the Resurrection. That may sound like something an evangelical would say, but I believe it goes beyond subjective feelings to the Mystery of the Incarnation at work among all baptized Christians, which is the only reality powerful enough to draw us together.
How have benefactors helped make your studies and experiences here possible?
I wouldn’t have been able to do it without them. I am very sincere in saying that, and I am deeply grateful. Leaders in my church were supportive of me coming here in the sense that they were open to me studying at a Catholic university, but it was my own initiative and largely self-supported. I have worked part-time here in Rome throughout my studies to get by, and I received help with tuition for the STB and STL, as well as support for school fees during my doctorate. Some periods were much harder than others. I remember in my second year, budgeting as carefully as possible and still having to stretch 25 euros over the 7–10 days of the month before pay day.
There were years when I simply could not have continued my education without this support. Over time, through conversations with others, I have realized that many others in similar situations would not have been able to continue either. Beyond scholarships, the reason I did not have to take out massive student loans, as is so common in the United States, is that most of the school’s needs are covered by donors rather than placed on students, a burden that most could not manage. The university would not exist without them. The mission of this university is not publicly funded, even though society desperately needs well-formed, well-educated, faithful Christians right now.
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