Problems and Prospects for the Measurement of Christian Seminarian Formation: Spiritual Measurement and the ‘Uncertainty Principle’

The Contested Arena of Formation

One major source of ambivalence concerning the measuring of formation is rooted in a more basic concern with the enterprise of ethical and spiritual formation itself. Character formation—let alone spiritual formation—is contested territory these days. While colleges once assumed that the moral formation of students was one of their most essential responsibilities, today the world of secular higher education is quick to eschew such a mission. Stanley Fish speaks for the dominant point of view when he writes that “it is not the business of the university” to engage in character formation, since this would involve the university in taking a stand on divisive moral issues and “would deform (by replacing) the true task of academic work: the search for truth and the dissemination of it through teaching.” ¹ Fish argues, further, that moral education encourages a “discipleship that is itself suspect and dangerous.” ²

At first glance, things are very different in a seminary context in which the language of spiritual and ethical formation remain familiar. Christians, after all, understand themselves to be summoned precisely to discipleship, called to follow Christ and be formed after his image (Romans 8:29, 12:2, Galatians 4:19). “Personal and spiritual formation” are among the learning goals of the Master of Divinity degree as defined by the Association of Theological Schools (ATS). While the ATS grants that schools may use different terms to describe this formation, the current ATS Standards for the M.Div. degree state that personal and spiritual formation include “development in personal faith, professional ethics, emotional maturity, moral integrity, and spirituality.” ³

While the world of theological education would thus seem to be much more hospitable to formation than the world of higher education as conceived by Fish, the reality is considerably more complex. Anxieties over formation abound, some akin to those expressed by Fish, and others more specific to the seminary context. First, there is the general deference to autonomy and freedom in modern Western culture, and a pervasive distrust of institutional authorities. Faith and spirituality are regarded as private matters, subject only to the jurisdiction of a person’s own conscience. The language of virtue and formation is used more prominently by cultural conservatives and is thus often perceived as politically coded. Scholars of color often read virtue talk as encoding whiteness and distracting attention from structural analyses of power. ⁴ As Willie Jennings writes, “a number of scholars of color carry an abiding skepticism that Christian intellectual formation can be anything other than white European masculinist formation.” ⁵ Then, too, there is the fact that seminary students are adult learners—over 60% of M.Div. students enrolled in ATS schools in 2019-20 were 30 or older. ⁶ If formation is regarded as inappropriate for college-age students, it can be seen as even more problematic for older students, whether because they are more fully autonomous or because they are too old to be formed. Further, there is the fact that many seminaries and university-based divinity schools transcend denominational divisions, and are thoroughly ecumenical and even multi-faith. Even where the school itself has a denominational affiliation, this embrace of diversity is often expressed in a reluctance to impose one particular tradition or denomination’s understanding of spiritual and ethical formation on all students. Additionally, both the secular university and the seminary are deeply shaped by a longstanding theory/practice divide that elevates the head over the heart, the abstract and conceptual over the concrete and embodied. Within the seminary context, this is visible in the disciplinary divisions that separate Christian theology, including moral theology and Christian ethics, from practical theology, religious education, and spirituality, and in the effective demotion of the latter disciplines. Institutional resources tend to flow toward the theoretical disciplines, which are also typically more central to institutional identity. Formational concerns thus have a place at the table, but often this is not a place of honor, or attention to formation is squeezed out given limited time to cover “core content.” Students absorb these institutional priorities and thus make formational concerns a lesser affair.

Beyond all of these broader cultural trends and institutional realities lie two further, specifically theological, concerns. Do human efforts to guide and control—and measure—the process of spiritual formation infringe on the free agency of the Holy Spirit? If spiritual formation and transformation are the work of divine grace, is it sinful hubris to attempt to institutionalize these processes and seek to bring them under human management? And finally, can whatever formation takes place in the seminary context be neatly identified with conformity to Christ, or formation in Christian discipleship? Who are we to say? Only God knows the human heart.

Defending the Formational Pursuit

What can be said in response to this large and varied collection of concerns? We have already noted that it is and remains a proper activity of the seminary to engage in moral and spiritual formation, supporting growth in the virtues and devotion to God, even if this does run against the cultural grain. But we may go further than this, and add that despite that discomfort, ethical formation also takes place in all educational settings, whether of an intentional or unintentional nature. Wherever this formation is happening, there is a responsibility on the part of those leading such institutions to do what they can to ensure that it is not malformation. ⁷ So Jennings, while sounding a warning about seminaries as settings for formation into white masculinist self-sufficiency, does not turn away from formational aspirations, but rather reconceives them as a “work of joining fragments aligned with the work of loving and learning together.” ⁸ Ethical formation need not amount to indoctrination; it can take forms that are dialogical and foster reflection. ⁹ While the Aristotelian tradition of virtue ethics speaks of habituation in the virtues, virtues are not mindless habits, and are not acquired through mere repetition, but involve reflective awareness. ¹⁰ And while the infused virtues are gifts of divine grace, these gifts can still grow through intentional cultivation. Processes of both ethical and spiritual formation properly respect the agency of the those participating in formation. Crucially, participants have freely chosen to enter into formation. Furthermore, it would be self-defeating for formation to undermine the maturity of those whose maturity is being sought. The alternatives are not indoctrination or atomistic individualism; adult formation is an active, self-involving process that at the same time is highly relational; it is formation for relation and in relation to others. The fact that seminary students are adult learners, many of whom are beyond even the stage of emerging adulthood, does not alter the fact that they remain engaged in processes of moral and spiritual development, since these are lifelong, even if appropriately taking different forms at different life stages. ¹¹ Emerging research on adult brain plasticity supports this understanding of formation as a lifelong potential. ¹²

When it comes to the denominational diversity that characterizes many seminaries today, this might be viewed as an opportunity for rather than as an obstacle to formation. While differences exist, the arena of formation has never been the site for the kind of conflict that has characterized doctrinal disputes. Traditions of spiritual practice and formation flow rather easily across denominations, with cross-fertilizations continually taking place. Moreover, insofar as Christians are committed to the ongoing pursuit of unity in the Body of Christ, ecumenical endeavor is an imperative. ¹³ This does not mean that differences may not be recognized and honored. It may be perfectly appropriate for a seminary to offer opportunities for students to understand and participate in a range of spiritual practices stemming from diverse traditions as part of their process of formation. This, too, supports spiritual maturity, and formation in a manner appropriate for adult learners. The challenge of healing the theory/practice divide, and the hierarchies of knowledge that attend this divide, is ongoing. A first step is to name and acknowledge the ways in which this hinders the accomplishment of the mission of theological education, as well as the mission of any educational institution that aspires to improve the human condition.

Much could be said in response to the specifically theological concerns swirling around formation. ¹⁴ The central point to be made is that historically, insistence on the necessity and priority of divine grace in spiritual and/or moral formation have not translated into the abandonment of human efforts to promote and discern formation. Augustine, for instance, surely insisted that spiritual formation requires divine grace; for Augustine, “we cannot see, or know, or love God unless He is in us, unless He gives himself to us.” ¹⁵ At the same time, Augustine did not hesitate to follow the Roman rhetorical tradition in presenting to his readers and listeners exempla, narratives presenting persons, actions, or attitudes to be imitated by those aspiring to spiritual growth. Exempla are both a site for human effort—on the part of both teacher and student—and a site of divine activity, creating the very desire for God that nourishes human aspiration. As Lewis Ayres writes, “the Confessions presents exempla as a tool in the hands of providence.” ¹⁶

Thomas Aquinas, similarly, devoted much of his career to the training and formation of Dominican preachers, understanding the words of the preacher as a form of exterior speech through which God speaks to the listener in an interior way. Human modes of formation are thus a kind of vehicle freely employed by God for the Spirit’s work of grace in inclining the will and illumining the intellect. ¹⁷ God is the cause of faith, but this hardly means that human preachers should abandon their work—or teachers of preachers theirs.

There are of course Christian traditions that express suspicion that human effort devoted to habituation or formation in the virtues competes improperly with divine formative agency. Luther, for instance, famously insisted that the righteous are simul justus et peccator, their sinful character and actions evident to human eyes, even as God sees that they are clothed in Christ’s saving righteousness. ¹⁸ Faith accepts that we are justified by Christ’s merits, not our own. Yet even here, this is not the whole story; Luther speaks of both “grace” and “the gift,” distinct in that grace remedies the sinner’s forensic status before God, while the gift gradually transforms character. ¹⁹ (WA 8:106-107; LW 32:227–229). And here there is room for those who trust utterly in God’s grace and gift to allow God to effect God’s work with and through their own agency ²⁰ (WA 6:52; LW44:52). While it is necessary to examine on a case by case basis traditions that question the appropriateness of human participation in processes of moral and spiritual formation, it is difficult to conceive of any tradition that would embrace seminary education while disavowing formative efforts wholesale. Indeed, we might suggest that seminaries offer rich contexts for reflection on the relation between grace and human effort that ought to inform their formational endeavors. Is it hubristic, though, to claim to be able to discern whether spiritual and ethical formation is genuine, whether it amounts truly to conformity to Christ? It is possible to affirm that indeed, only God is finally equipped to assess spiritual and moral standing, while nevertheless accepting responsibility for what we in our institutions do in terms of supporting and shaping formation.

Measuring Formation: Further Challenges

Thus far I have sought to surface and briefly address a broad range of concerns surrounding the enterprise of striving to foster spiritual and ethical formation, with particular attention to the seminary setting. Of course, one might unequivocally support formational enterprises in the seminary context while harboring concerns about efforts to measure such formation. I therefore turn to consider several of the particular challenges that face the undertaking of measurement, starting with questions concerning the definition of what is being measured and moving on to consider advantages and disadvantages of a meta-theoretical approach, the impact of even slight terminological/conceptual variations from one tradition to another, and issues with self-report measures generally, as well as specifically in relation to the measurement of spirituality and character. I consider, finally, the concern that measuring spiritual and moral formation distorts these processes by introducing an inappropriate objectification and distanciation into processes that ought to be intimately self-involving. Careful refinement of survey instruments can address some of these issues. However, these concerns should lead to sustained attention to the Uncertainty Principle. How might the measuring of spiritual and ethical formation be done in ways that support, rather than undermine, these processes of formation?

First then, one might worry over whether we have adequate clarity concerning that which we are measuring. A measure that is psychometrically sound may be attractive to researchers for that reason, even if it lacks theoretical coherence. ²¹ Researchers often make use of pre-existing scales to measure spiritual and moral development, which is helpful in that it enables easy comparison of results across studies, and the accumulation of a coherent body of research. This may also have the effect of sedimenting distortions, however, as it becomes increasingly difficult to set aside an existing scale around which research programs have been built, even if the scale is problematic. ²² In order to address such problems, it is important to give ample attention to the conceptual adequacy of various instruments, both at the time of adoption and over time, continuing to refine and, at times, to set them aside altogether.

A Potential Meta-Theory of Spiritual Change

Perhaps the greatest challenge here is simply the fact that there is little theoretical consensus surrounding the processes of spiritual and ethical formation, and great variety even in the language used to describe these processes. Spiritual and ethical maturity are in themselves complex and there is no agreement across or even within traditions concerning its precise characteristics. Is spiritual maturity bound up with emotional expressiveness? Speaking in tongues? A practical commitment to advance social justice? A disposition to obey human authority figures as God’s representatives? ²³ No instrument for measuring spiritual maturity can be neutral. Some Christian traditions regard emotional expressiveness as a central element of spiritual maturity; others would regard such expressiveness as an indication of immaturity. Where one tradition seeks “a closer walk with Jesus,” another aspires to “joyful obedience to God’s will.”

A recent effort to develop a “meta-theory of spiritual change” addresses these issues by identifying six core theological concepts of Christian formation grounded in an ecumenically Christian framework. ²⁴ The authors concede that such a meta-theory will necessarily be “fairly abstract” and “higher-level,” operating “at the level of genus of which there would be a wide variety of species.” ²⁵ The six principles are as follows: (1) “positive spiritual, characterological, and moral change is valued and expected; (2) “positive spiritual change is interconnected with positive characterological and moral change”; (3) “positive spiritual, characterological, and moral change takes place in community; (4) “there exist various obstacles to positive spiritual, characterological, and moral change; (5) “a variety of practices are enjoined to facilitate positive change; (6) “acquired virtue is included in positive change.” ²⁶ The authors offer an detailed and thoughtful discussion of each of these principles, showing in particular how deeply rooted they are in both scripture and Christian tradition. A more recent essay approaches the same task by inviting representatives of various Christian traditions to discuss how spiritual and ethical formation are understood within their traditions, thereby providing a concrete basis on which to conclude that many traditions of Christian spirituality, despite their distinctive features, are consistent with the this meta-theory of spiritual change. ²⁷ No tradition uses the stripped-down, experience-distant language of “positive change,” but by the same token the theory can accommodate those who experience positive spiritual change in terms as distinct as those of intimacy, obedience, openness, or empowerment. ²⁸

As abstract as this meta-theory is, it is important to note that it is not neutral. Positive change might be taken to be impossible; here it is expected. Spiritual development might not be seen as correlated with characterological improvement, or bettering of one’s actions; here all three are taken to be correlated. Further, spiritual development is defined centrally in terms of “growth in relatedness to God.” ²⁹ The authors take there to be a truth of the matter concerning Christian maturity, and the theory seeks to reflect this truth. They are not interested merely in identifying a common core or least common denominator of spiritual formation as practiced by various traditions. ³⁰ Rather, they suggest that “the plurality of Christian spiritualities approximate and embody to varying degrees” the “actual dynamics of Christian maturation,” and insist that the goal is to test for “the actual nature of Christian formation.” ³¹

It turns out, though, to be rather challenging to distinguish the meta-theory approach from a least common denominator approach. If the meta-theory seeks to delineate and measure the actual dynamics of Christian maturation, why not give an account of these dynamics that is more determinate than the six principles constituting the meta-theory? On the other hand, efforts to show that a broad array of Christian traditions can endorse the meta-theory seem to suggest its proponents are concerned not simply with ideal Christian maturation and how this ought to develop, but with showing that existing Christian traditions, diverse as they are, succeed in fact in describing and fostering genuine Christian maturity. There is, then, a certain ambivalence in the meta-theory approach. At the same time, there is much to be said for an approach that, while not neutral, abstracts from some level of detail in order to construct an instrument that might be welcomed for use by those situated within a broad range of traditions.

Priming Effects, Self-Report Distortions, Longitudinal Complexities

If the meta-theory approach is embraced, new challenges attend the effort to preserve the strengths of this approach in the construction of an actual survey instrument. For the language used in the instrument matters. A question such as “I am uncomfortable allowing God to control every aspect of my life,” intended to measure attachment/avoidance in relation to God, might puzzle or even alienate a respondent whose tradition does not speak in terms of human beings “allowing” God to do things. ³² A question like “Growth in intercultural competence is a vital part of Christian spiritual formation,” measuring intercultural competence, might mean little to a student who has not heard the term “intercultural competence.” ³³ Some respondents may resonate with the language of “prayer life” but not with that of “spiritual life,” or with talk of “going to Mass” versus “going to church.” Various sorts of priming effects might be operative. Since religious identity is so often bound up with in-group identifications, small differences in terminology could carry a great deal of weight for some respondents, leading to misunderstanding or disengagement from the survey. Hill and Maltby rightly note that existing measures of religion and spirituality are biased toward the practices of white Protestants. ³⁴ Yet measures tailored to particular traditions are of limited use for considering the effectiveness of formation across traditions or in ecumenical contexts. ³⁵ These considerations might favor the use of a mixed methods approach incorporating both meta-theoretical elements and tradition-specific elements. ³⁶

We might note further that it is widely recognized that relying on self-report measures is problematic in studying both personality and character. Respondents to surveys routinely engage in impression management and exhibit social desirability bias; someone who desires spiritual maturity gives answers reflecting their aspirations and investment in spiritual growth, but these answers may not reflect their actual state. ³⁷ Spiritual grandiosity, the tendency, associated with narcissistic personality disorder, to rate one’s own spirituality more highly than others, is a recognized factor that must be taken into account in analyzing results. ³⁸ Respondents may simply not have a good understanding of their own spiritual and moral maturity. “Would one base a grading system on evaluations of how well students believe they have mastered the material rather than an actual test of performance?” asks one critic of self-rating measures of mindfulness. ³⁹

This issue is particularly challenging in the areas of spiritual and ethical formation. For how and what we see is shaped decisively by the state of our character; as we acquire the virtues, our understanding of ourselves, others, and the world is transformed. ⁴⁰ Those who have made significant advances in spiritual practice and the cultivation of the virtues are likely both to be more aware of their distance from perfection and more able to admit this; hence, the more mature are likely to discount the advances they have made. ⁴¹ Steven Porter has suggested that we might dub this the “maturity paradox.” ⁴² He and his co-authors note that “[s]piritual growth over time can bring about a more honest and accurate assessment of one’s virtues and vices that may show up as a decrease in spiritual maturity on a self-report measure when it is actually representative of an increase in spiritual maturity.” ⁴³ Porter et al. acknowledge that the maturity paradox poses a significant challenge: “if ‘a mature Christian does not have consciousness about his own maturity, but longs for it’, then self-report measures are in trouble. If the converse also holds true—that it is a sign of immaturity to be conscious of one’s own maturity—then the immature will score higher on self-report measures than the mature.” ⁴⁴

A well-designed instrument can seek to correct for ceiling effects, desirability bias, and the like, for instance by designing items for which there is no obvious “right” answer. ⁴⁵ It can also be applied in ways that anticipate changes over time. However, this is not simple to do. A longitudinal study of undergraduates at a small evangelical university found that changes in spirituality and character followed a u-shaped trajectory; negative trends in the first 2 years of college were followed by positive trends in the latter 2 years. ⁴⁶ Should this be projected as normative, such that decline in the first year of seminary be regarded as a form of positive change even though it registers as negative change on the survey instrument? Should a similar longitudinal trajectory be expected for adult seminarians as for undergraduate students? Given the widely varying ages of seminary students, is there reason to expect rather that they might individually be at widely varying points along a path of spiritual transformation? Is a 2-to 3-year degree program simply too short to expect any discernible pattern?

While these challenges are real, empirical studies have the potential to yield insights that might shape understandings of spiritual and ethical formation, forming positive feedback loops. For instance, studies have found unexpected correlations, for instance, between humility and a quest orientation. Those affiliated with a tradition that highly values the virtue of humility, but that is suspicious of a quest orientation, might be led to reconsider their commitments. Similarly, those attached to petitionary prayer might be led to question that form of prayer practice when learning that petitionary prayer (but not meditative prayer) correlates with spiritual grandiosity and insecure attachment. ⁴⁷ While it is sensible to examine critically empirical results that challenge one’s practices and commitments, it is also reasonable to remain open to the possibility that empirical results might feed into the ongoing development of traditions of spiritual and ethical formation.

Quantitative Reductivism and Motivational Distortion

A different kind of concern about the measurement of spiritual formation arises from the thought that spiritual and moral development are not appropriately quantified, or that attempts to quantify them disrupt the attitudes proper to participating in them, introducing an improper objectification and distanciation. Bruce Hindmarsh has recently articulated a powerful critique of this kind. The enterprise of measuring spirituality represents a dangerous temptation, he argues; in the modern age, “we have come to view human beings more and more through the lens of quantitative measurement,” but this threatens to reduce “human nature to fit the tools of our analysis.” ⁴⁸ When we abstract human beings “as interchangeable data points on a statistical array,” we lose touch with the irreducibly personal character of our experience: “I cease to live the life present to me immediately, here in my own body, in this moment, in this place, with my own unique history.” ⁴⁹ There is, Hindmarsh argues, a reductionism inherent in statistical analysis, and we must resist this for both ethical and theological reasons, honoring the vastness of the human person, made to be a dwelling place for God. ⁵⁰ What is intriguing here is that while Hindmarsh argues that the predilection for quantification and measurement is distinctively modern, he also traces a rich tradition of quantified spiritual measurement that extends from medieval efforts to quantify sins in order to ensure appropriate penance, through the detailed tabulation of spiritual health that earned the early Methodists their name, to Jonathan Edwards’s encouragement of spiritual book-keeping. While documenting this tradition, and the fact that it is not distinctively modern (even if statistics is a 17th-century invention), Hindmarsh simultaneously discounts its significance, arguing that while early evangelical leaders were enthusiastic about measurement, “they came finally to realize this was a dead end,” turning from quantitative to qualitative forms of assessment. ⁵¹

What are we to make of this critique? Certainly there is a potential danger of taking up a stance that abstracts and alienates us from our spiritual lives. On the other hand, we might question whether spiritual measurement truly is a modern innovation. Hindmarsh acknowledges medieval antecedents, but we might extend Hindmarsh’s historical narrative to locate the roots of Christian practices of systematic spiritual and moral stock-taking in ancient Stoic spiritual exercises. ⁵² The Stoics took up a calculatedly objectifying relationship toward their own inner lives, and Christian thinkers followed suit. On the other end of the historical narrative, we might also question whether in fact evangelicals, or other Christians for that matter, ever abjured measurement. It is certainly illuminating to see how the language of spirituality shifts with the times; the popularity of spiritual book-keeping goes hand in hand with broader cultural enthusiasm for account-keeping, for instance. We should expect that novel cultural practices will from time to time enjoy particular salience as tools for advancing or lenses for reflecting on spiritual and moral development. ⁵³ The contemporary impulse to partner with the psychological sciences to study and measure spiritual development is itself part of the history of Christianity and might be read as standing in fundamental continuity with the impulses of the Wesley brothers and Edwards.

Hindmarsh reminds us that one cannot live well in a state of alienation from one’s immediate embodied life and particular relations with others. This is true. It is also true that we must often temporarily depart from our own situated particularity and arrive at a more objective perspective in order to live well. If I fail to appreciate that your child is as precious to you as mine is to me, for instance, or that diverting the river to irrigate my fields will leave your fields parched, I am rightly seen as having failed to appreciate that I am one among many, my unique and irreducible experience only mine, and properly to be relativized and abstracted from in myriad ways. But if this recognition leads me to regard my child as just another child, or my field as just another acre of land, I will not properly love my child, or tend my land. It can be challenging to recognize the limitations and biases of one’s immediate affections and responses, and to arrive at a more objective perspective without thereby becoming alienated from our own particular affections and commitments, yet this is also an everyday reality of human existence. As Thomas Nagel writes, the external point of view “cannot remain a mere spectator once the self has expanded to accommodate it. It has to join in with the rest and lead this life from which it is disengaged. As a result the person becomes in significant part detached from what he is doing. ⁵⁴ We create a host of practices and institutions that serve both to honor and to constrain the situatedness of our perspectives, affections, and commitments. So, for instance, we recognize that spouses ought not be compelled to testify against one another. At the same time, that if my spouse happens to be applying for a position at my company, we agree that I ought to recuse myself from the hiring process.

The perspectival character of human experience is an aspect of the “deeper anthropology” in which quantitative analysis ought to be embedded. ⁵⁵ The key question is this: how might the measuring of spiritual and ethical formation be done in a way that itself supports spiritual and ethical development rather than distorting, undermining, or detaching us from these inherently self-involving processes? Take for instance the possibility, explored through an ever-growing and complex literature, that extrinsic rewards and punishments decrease intrinsic motivation. ⁵⁶ Let us assume that we have a tested and validated survey instrument for measuring spiritual and ethical formation. Even then, it matters how this instrument is employed. Research on survey incentives suggests that response rates are decreasing in U.S. society due to oversurveying. Incentives increase response rates, but their impact is complex. In one of the early landmark studies of intrinsic motivation, children who had previously enjoyed drawing were significantly less likely to engage in drawing after having received a reward for doing so. ⁵⁷ Subsequent research has shown how complex the question of incentives is. ⁵⁸ For instance, extrinsic rewards have been shown to decrease the motivation of the highly motivated while increasing that of the previously unmotivated. ⁵⁹ Prepaid incentives boost response rates more than postpaid incentives, and it has been argued that they do so by inducing participants to feel that they have received a gift, rather than payment, and have thereby assumed an obligation to reciprocate. ⁶⁰ This is intriguing, as it suggests that when incentives do work effectively, it is because they provide a form of incentive that is not merely extrinsic. If seminarians are given an incentive to take the survey or required to complete the survey in order to receive their diploma, the survey may be perceived as an obstacle set up in the path of a reward that they have earned (that is, the diploma is not an unearned gift), and students may therefore be unlikely to complete the survey with care and attention. This might well distort results. Even more significantly, it might have a lasting negative impact on seminarians’ own engagement with and commitment to their spiritual and moral development, as these come to be perceived as performed in order to receive an external good (an iPad “prize” randomly awarded to one who completes the survey) or avoid negative consequences (another hoop to jump through in order to graduate).

Essentially the same dynamic affects the faculty and staff required to measure spiritual and moral formation for purposes of assessment and accreditation. It is something of a catch-22; insofar as we are committed to our institutional missions, we ought to care about whether we are living up to these with regard to the spiritual and ethical formation of students. Indeed, this ought to be part and parcel of our own individual vocations. On the other hand, once assessment is regarded primarily as something that we are required to do in order to be accredited, our intrinsic motivation may be drained. Furthermore, the time and energy involved in attempting to determine how well we are carrying out the formational mission takes time and energy away from actual engagements with students, and resentment may set in at having been forced to step away from immersion in the formational vocation.

Third Person Reporting and Second Personal Encounter

Previous discussions of the problems attending self-report measures for spiritual and moral formation have acknowledged the possibility that “third person, informant reporting might prove necessary.” ⁶¹ Informant responses to survey instruments suffer less from things like social desirability bias. Third person reporting also addresses the more specific concern that results will be distorted by virtue of the fact that the immature are unaware of their immaturity, while the relatively mature are increasingly aware of their distance from perfection. These are significant advantages to informant reporting.

Of course, informant reporting comes along with its own challenges, most obviously, whether the informant knows the subject sufficiently well in order to be able to provide accurate responses. But I want to emphasize something else, which is that an adequate third person response to a survey of spiritual and moral formation would need to be based on a second personal encounter between the subject and the respondent. Even more than this: this second personal encounter would need to be of a kind that did not treat the seminarian as an interchangeable data point, but rather as an individual person, enmeshed in the particularities of their lives. In fact, once we begin to think in terms of a third-party instrument, we begin to conceive of the measurement of formation as part and parcel of the process of formation, rather than something detached from this. We can begin to envision how processes of formation and assessment could potentially be designed in ways that work hand in hand. Use of a survey instrument might be built into regular meetings between the seminarian and a formation mentor or spiritual director. ⁶² The survey might potentially be administered both as a first person and third person assessment, providing a basis not simply for institutional measurement but also of personal reflection and discussion between seminarian and mentor. The measurement process might thereby be transformed from an extrinsic carrot or stick that drains intrinsic motivation into a kind of spiritual exercise. Seminaries would have good reason to ensure a sustained second personal encounter between seminarian and formation mentor, not just so that third person evaluations would be knowledgeable, but so that formation itself is supported. Should a model of this kind be adopted, it would still be the case that survey language too distant from that of the tradition(s) in which seminarian and mentor are enmeshed would be unlikely to be effective. This provides additional reasons for favoring a mixed methods approach, such that aspects of the instrument are tradition-specific and employ language that is native to the seminarian’s own tradition.

It is important to underscore that the turn to informant reporting, and its integration into formational processes, is not a cure-all. It would remain the case that the processes and results would be shaped by the wisdom (or lack of wisdom) embedded in both the survey instrument and the mentor. We can advance only by acknowledging this effect and working with it.

Conclusion

This essay has identified a broad range of concerns with the enterprise of institutional involvement in spiritual and ethical formation, and with efforts to measure formation. Seminaries rightly regard it as part of their remit to foster the spiritual and ethical formation of students, and it is appropriate to assess their success in this endeavor. Measuring spiritual and ethical formation is a daunting task, however. It is critical to recognize that the act of measurement is itself an intervention in the formational economy. Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle is apt: the act of measuring becomes one of the forces interacting in the system being measured and has its own effect on what is measured. Integrating measurement into formational processes can help address key concerns, but it is no substitute for wise mentors. ⁶³