Is General Theological Seminary even relevant today?

Volume One, Issue 18, February 2 - 8, 2007

Talking Point

By Tim Gay

Some people say I might be a little biased about the roles that religion and spirituality play in the total community.

My first wife, Susan, was a Methodist minister, and so was Michael, my first lover. Philip, my second male lover, was a former Christian Brother. And I was raised a Southern Baptist, but in the Jimmy Carter social-works tradition. I was employed for a time at the National Catholic Reporter, where we covered migrant-worker issues, free elections in El Salvador, Marxist theology, Archbishop Tutu and apartheid in South Africa, and the rising role of women and homosexuals in the church.

Susan, Michael, Phil and I were taught the ways of Dorothy Day: to do unto others as we would have others do unto ourselves; to understand rather than be understood.

Back in the ’60s, ’70s and early ’80s, there were churches in New York that were synonymous with social justice — Judson Memorial, Washington Square United Methodist, Riverside Church, to name a few. Faith communities such as these joined political organizations to effect change in civil rights and social justice.

On the local level in Chelsea, Holy Apostles provides soup for the homeless, and a home for our LGBT synagogue. Frances Xavier hosted the lesbian and gay Catholic organization Dignity, until Cardinal O’Connor came on the scene. St. Peter’s, on West 20th St., not only opened its pantry but houses the community church for “people of all faiths or no faith.” St. Columba, on West 25th St., transformed itself into a church for Spanish-speaking people from all nations, and, with Guardian Angels, on Tenth Ave., taught generations of neighborhood children. Some years ago, Congregation Emunath Israel moved into an abandoned Methodist Church next to the Hotel Chelsea and serves a diverse population of older and younger people, Jews and non-Jews.

Each of these congregations opened its doors to the community, providing services, meeting halls and support for a number of causes. Parishioners and ministers were and still are an integral part of the community.

But since I moved here in 1980, I can’t recall General Theological Seminary opening its gates to the needs of Chelsea — such as Chelsea Coalition for Housing, ACT-UP, women’s health clinics, Chelsea for Peace. Except for occasional meetings on preservation and planning issues, I can’t really recall any involvement. There were many opportunities for General Theological professors and students to work in Chelsea, but we never knew who lived there.

(Well, that’s not true. Over a decade ago, the seminary would not allow a professor to have her spouse live with her on campus, because they were a lesbian couple. Since professors were required to live on campus, General Theological Seminary was essentially attempting to break up a happy home. The community was outraged.)

Does General Theological Seminary really need a stand-alone gated compound? Will selling the air rights make the tax-exempt institution financially sound, or is it simply buying time? Will the seminary be coming back to the community in 2014, asking for another high-rise to bolster its precarious tax-free financial situation?

Or, perhaps the seminary might want to question its relevance in a changing world — as well as the reason for its existence in Chelsea. What would happen if the professors and students were studying in a homeless environment? What if General Theological Seminary moved to an under-utilized but significantly smaller structure in a disadvantaged neighborhood that needs services and spiritual guidance?

On the other hand, would the long-term residents of Chelsea even notice if the seminary’s students were taught elsewhere? I doubt it.

I’m more political now, where the first lesson is “all politics are local.” My mom, a teacher and church pianist, always referred to the old saws, “Charity begins at home” and “Do good without thinking of any rewards.”

And my first male lover, Rev. Michael Collins, had no patience with slow-moving theological bureaucracies that didn’t get their hands dirty. About the seminary, Michael once said to me, “We should tear down General’s fences and let the people play.”