Eucharist

The first time I heard Ted Wardlaw deliver a “State of the Seminary” address, I marveled at how one human being could be so knowledgeable, wise, and prescient about what seminaries—and the church—face in the future. Such detailed insight seemed to me almost unbelievable, so much so that I resolved to keep tabs over time on Ted’s annual addresses. They never failed to deliver. How did he do it?

Finally I realized that such perception and prognostication come not only from intentional research and long experience in his field, but even more importantly they emerge from vision. Ted has a vision for the church’s work clearly drawn from a vast and long-nurtured imagination for the Kingdom of Heaven—simultaneously here and yet, not yet.

Among the many meanings of the Eucharist—baptism resealed, mission renewed and empowered, sins forgiven, boundaries bridged, the believer lifted into Christ’s presence—the meaning to which I now most closely cling is how, at the Table, God offers us a foretaste of the coming Kingdom. As we leave the Table, the values of that Kingdom fresh on our lips, God grants us vision for living peacefully, fruitfully toward God’s dreams. And for those most receptive to that vision, its essence still on the tips of their tongues, imagination for working toward it appears all the more natural.

Such it is with Ted Wardlaw.

Liturgical purists rightly warn us never to return full offering plates to the Lord’s Table lest we create even the unintended appearance that the Eucharist is transactional. What we receive at Table is gift, not payment; grace, not reward. Communion conveys all that it does precisely because it is unearned, and precisely because it is divine gift, it is completely trustworthy.

Which is why Ted was so compelling as a seminary president. He is so certain of the vision he has received that walking alongside as he strode toward it seemed wholly natural and good. Fun, even. His vision was clear and motivating. His insight was convincing and exciting.

And while this is true of Ted’s entire ministry at Austin Seminary, it is breathtakingly obvious in his ability to attract generosity towards the Seminary’s future. Ted and his team raised nearly $100 million for the Seminary, a reality I am convinced possible primarily because Ted trusts God’s vision, and people trust Ted. People intuit that Ted is the real thing, the genuine article, an authentic Christian.

Having peered directly into The Giver’s heart, Ted could inspire givers’ hearts. And students’ hearts. And worshipers’ hearts. And professors,’ and board members,’ and congregations’ hearts.

Thanks be to God for Ted’s ministry among us.

– The Reverend Karl Travis Member of the Board (2008-2016)

When I was a student at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary, I often participated in the weekday worship life of the community in the chapel. One of my favorite aspects of worship, as a future minister in training, was listening to how worship leaders offered an invitation to the table. As a lifelong church goer, I’ve more often than not felt welcome and at home at God’s table, but as I’ve grown and become more aware of the dynamics of privilege and marginalization in the life of the church—its “growing pains”—I’ve come to appreciate to an even greater extent the importance of a strong, Christ-centered welcome. When it’s done well, an invitation gives us a heightened awareness of our belovedness and draws us into the life of God. When we feel nourished by both the welcome and the feast itself, we truly become a nourishing people, and everything that we aspire to in the kin-dom of God feels possible. Being nourished at a welcome table gives me a heady feeling, and it’s in those times that I find the greatest clarity about the church’s calling, and, thanks be to the Spirit, the greatest energy for whatever lies ahead in order for me to journey more faithfully as a minister and child of God.

President Ted Wardlaw is someone who, throughout his years of service, leadership, and ministry, offered lifegiving invitations. Although I’ve only had the privilege of sharing table fellowship with him for just a portion of his ministry career, I’m confident that Ted’s ministry has been defined by his invitational way. It seemed (and seems) to be a rule of life for him. Ted invited us to the table to share the Lord’s Supper in the sacred space of Shelton Chapel … and frequently encouraged us not to neglect this time devoted to our spiritual lives for the sake of essays or exam cramming. He invited us to the table in the president’s boardroom for collaborative dialogue on student leadership initiatives. He undertook the courageous work of inviting us to the table to reflect on the climate of campus and opportunities for God’s divine welcome to be manifest more sincerely and supportively in our little community of the body of Christ at Austin Seminary.

I’ll never forget the sermon that Ted preached a few years ago in Utah, a guest at the church I was serving. He spoke of Jesus’s invitation to James and John to drink from his cup in the tenth chapter of Mark’s Gospel. Ted recalled a time in which he studied this passage in a small group with Fred Craddock, who observed to their group that to drink the cup in one swallow was “far easier” than “sipping on it for forty years,” or the span of a ministry career. And yet, Ted reflected that day, the faithful life of ministry is a life of sipping: praying, visiting, mentoring, comforting. At times, in sorrow, and at times, in joy. On the occasion of his retirement, I can’t think of a better image to capture Ted’s legacy in the church, or at least, in my small corner of it. Thank you, Ted, for welcoming me and others well, invitation after invitation, year after year. Thank you for every small sip of faithful ministry that built a wider and more welcome table.

– The Reverend Meghan Vail (MDiv’17) Associate Pastor, Community Presbyterian Church, Pinehurst, North Carolina