Writer Turns to a Spiritual Second Act

Back when I worked with Jim Davidson at the Pittsburgh Press in the mid-1980s, he was a theater critic and Sunday magazine feature writer. He was a Harvard alum with an urbane grasp of culture who turned me on to classics ranging from John Coltrane's jazz to Raymond Chandler's detective novel, The Long Goodbye.

Though I didn't grasp its significance at the time, my colleague had another gift as well: He had the sort of gentle, empathetic manner that made co-workers feel comfortable opening up about their problems and worries, and his ability to analyze nuances also made him a sage provider of advice. After the paper closed, he went on to become a writing instructor at Carnegie-Mellon University, but I always thought he might do something more.

Maybe that's why I wasn't totally surprised when Davidson showed up at one of my book signings a few years ago and let slip that he had a new calling. He had enrolled in divinity school, with the aim of becoming a Presbyterian minister.

As it turns out, he may have been one of the harbingers of what is now a fast-growing trend. More and more baby boomers are turning to the ministry as a midlife career change. Pulpit & Pew, a website focusing on the clergy, reports that 56 percent of congregations are headed by second-career ministers. Time magazine notes that boomers are now the fastest-growing demographic segment at the nation's divinity schools, amounting to 20 percent of students. That's up from 12 percent in 1995.

I checked in this week with Davidson, who is now the pastor of a church in Elizabeth, Pa., a short drive from his home in Pittsburgh. He had always been an active member of his church, but the newspaper's demise in 1992 following a bitter labor dispute turned out to be a spiritual catalyst. Davidson landed on his feet quickly, finding teaching jobs and freelance writing assignments, but others were not so resilient, and he found himself spending a lot of time counseling them and offering emotional support. "In a way, I started my ministry then, even though I didn't realize it at the time," he recalls.

In the decade or so that Davidson spent working at Carnegie-Mellon, he found himself gravitating more and more toward his ultimate calling. He joined a training program for lay church counselors and did volunteer work in troubled countries such as Haiti. Then, in 1998, he decided to audit classes at the Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, at first mostly for the intellectual stimulation. Pretty soon, he enrolled in a degree program, fitting his classes in around his work schedule and stretching out his training a bit so that he could pay for it out of pocket.

Seminary school isn't for dilettantes; the rigorous curriculum required Davidson to study classical Greek and Latin, as well as the tenets of Protestant theology. But the studies -- and his internship at a local church -- also compelled him to develop abilities that he'd never realized he had. "It never occurred to me that I had a good speaking voice, that I could get up in front of a group of people and project," he explains. "I never thought I would be able to give a good sermon. But now, here I am, on sermon number 417."

Davidson's work with his congregation of 80 members runs the gamut, from officiating at weddings and funerals to leading Bible study classes and visiting church members who are ill or experiencing difficulties in their lives. When he's not working with his own mostly-middle-class congregation, he's involved with the Lazarus Fund, a religious committee that provides small grants of $200 to assist people who are unemployed or unable to work in paying utility bills and mortgages. (Since 1985, when the effort was started to help workers left high and dry by the closing of Pittsburgh's steel mills, the Lazarus Fund has distributed nearly $2 million.)

Davidson, whose income is about the same as what he earned as a college instructor, loves being a minister, but says he has no regrets about not finding his calling earlier.

"I liked working in newspapers and teaching, too," he says. "When you're at different stages of life, different things are right for you."

He says that the life experience and emotional maturity that he brought to the ministry -- both from his work and from raising two daughters with his wife, an attorney -- has made him a better spiritual leader and counselor. "A month ago, I buried a woman who had overdosed, and the next day, I baptized her youngest child," he says. "There's not a thing in the world that can really prepare you for that, but I know that as a 30-year-old, I just wouldn't have been ready for it."

The still-struggling economy, which has left some churches struggling to support their clergy and programs, has put a bit of a damper on career opportunities for prospective ministers. As this article from the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life details, there currently are many more ministers looking for work than there are available full-time positions as heads of congregations. But there are plenty of other opportunities for fulfilling one's calling, such as working in social programs or activism, or serving as a part-time pastor at a small church.

Davidson, who is 64, says that one advantage of the ministry is that a person can transition gradually to less rigorous duties as the years go on. "I don't think I'll ever retire, as long as I'm physically able," he says.

*Top photo: Ken Andreyo