Length of a statement of purpose depends on the specific program’s requirements: Each school will have different limits. As such (and we’re repeating this because it’s essential), be sure to thoroughly read through the program’s website and adhere to any and all guidelines they offer.

Below, we’ll offer 7 successful statement of purpose examples, with in-depth analysis.

Statement of purpose example 1

The following example statement of purpose was written as part of a successful application for Yale Divinity School.

Overview and analysis written by Christine Rose. 

Want to work with Christine through your grad school admissions process? Schedule a call with our team to learn more here.

Overview:

During the years that I served on the Ph.D. admissions committee for a highly selective graduate program, what I looked forward to the most was studying how each candidate crafted their statement of purpose (SofP). No two were exactly alike. Even if they covered all of their bases, which every strong SofP must, the thinkers and scholarship that were foundational for their respective graduate school goals differed, as did their proposed focus, their personal and theoretical investments, their rhetorical flourishes, their nuanced insights, and the life experiences that lead them to seek this particular degree from this particular institution.

The SofP that I analyze below was used to apply to Mat Yale Divinity School (YDS). For readers unfamiliar with MARs, they are generally two-year programs consisting of the academic study of religious histories, texts, art, belief systems, and institutions alongside practical, real-world chances to serve within a community such as a hospital, shelter, assisted living facility, synagogue, mosque, or church. It is a degree open to anyone of any faith—or lack thereof. Yes, agnostics, “spiritual-but-not-religious,” and even some atheists who are drawn to careers in service, activism, justice, and community organizing have opted to go to divinity school.

This SofP gained the author admission to many of America’s most competitive programs: Yale Divinity School, Harvard Divinity School, Princeton Theological Seminary, Boston College School of Theology & Ministry, Boston University School of Theology, and Union Theological Seminary.

Read it in full first, or scroll down for a paragraph-by-paragraph analysis.

I Will Remember Junia

In the introduction to her literary-feminist exegesis, Texts of Terror, Phyllis Trible writes that stories are the “style and substance” of our existence, that they “fashion and fill” our lives. Trible’s assertion is certainly true of my own life: I consumed stories ravenously as a child, and they have defined my personal and academic life thus far. My life has also been defined by the Christian faith. Ironically, I never engaged with the stories most Christians hold dearest until I enrolled in my first religious studies course, Christian history, as a first-year at Grinnell College. In this course, I was rattled by the realization that the Bible had “fashioned and filled” the world around me, my church, the underpinnings of ideas and systems I came in contact with daily, and, perhaps most alarming, the morals and values I had inherited and chosen, without my slightest awareness. As the course continued on, I learned about the first female apostle and was deeply struck by the ease with which a 14th-century translation erased female leadership from the Bible. On the final exam to this course, I was asked “what will you be taking away?” My answer was immediate: I will remember Junia.

I spent much of my undergraduate career after this studying literature and learning to write my own narratives as an English major—a pursuit which, continually, drew me back to the themes I studied in courses for a Religious Studies minor. This range of academic focus allowed me to enter my first Biblical Studies course with an eye not only for theology, but with the skills to study literary elements such as narrative structure, genre tropes, and source study. Further, the tension that arose when I began to grapple with the Bible as a piece of literature alongside its value as my Holy book, was, and continues to be, unexplainably thrilling. Consideration of the text’s discontinuities and human errors in academic discourse has enhanced and complicated my personal reading of scripture; likewise, I believe my identity as a woman of faith has enhanced and complicated what I contribute to an academic discourse. I cannot analyze a story like the rape of Tamar in 2 Samuel rhetorically or historically without also considering modern, female readership. The challenge of considering these texts and stories holistically is precisely what I want to lean into in my graduate studies.

 My academic interests are primarily in studying New Testament and Biblical Greek, as well as early Christian history, through the lens of women, gender, and sexuality. My curiosity also extends to the extracanonical and gnostic texts. In pursuing Yale Divinity’s M.A. in Religion with a New Testament concentration, I believe I will most fully be able to delve into the intersections of these ideas. I am particularly intrigued by Professor Michal Beth Dinkler’s research in applying contemporary literary theory to New Testament scholarship, as her work resonates closely with the questions I have asked most often as a student.

In addition to my intellectual curiosities, I prepare this application while simultaneously engaging in vocational discernment through a 2020-21 service year with the New York Service & Justice Collaborative, an affiliate of the Episcopal Service Corps. Here, I am able to serve 35 hours each week with a nonprofit which works to create communities of belonging for people with and without intellectual and developmental disabilities. I am serving alongside our executive director as the second employee. This work has given me an education in disability advocacy, theology, and the injustices caused by ableism, and has also granted me the experience of witnessing nonprofit work from the ground level. With the Service Corps, I am also spending one day each week in servant leadership and social justice focused “faith formation”. As someone who has continually been drawn to leadership roles in the past, I have valued the chance to think about leadership intentionally and critically. Yale Divinity’s Transformational Leadership program appeals to me as an outstanding support for my vocational discernment process, and as continuing the leadership training I have just started.

It would be negligent of what I hope to experience in a program such as Yale Divinity School’s M.A.R. to state with certainty my current inclination that I will use this degree to pursue a career in education or public service. I wholeheartedly expect that my time in this degree program would radically reshape my approach to Biblical studies, as well as my current understanding of how I want to contribute to the world. Although I did not take New Testament courses during my time as an undergraduate, I believe that my academic background and my interest in studying Biblical Greek will allow me to succeed in this track. I am confident that the programming at Yale Divinity School would both challenge and encourage me in vocational discernment, and grant me the opportunity to learn and contribute my ideas to the field of Biblical studies.

— — —

IN-DEPTH ANALYSIS

PARAGRAPH ONE: INTRODUCTION

In the introduction to her literary-feminist exegesis, Texts of Terror, Phyllis Trible writes that stories are the “style and substance” of our existence, that they “fashion and fill” our lives. Trible’s assertion is certainly true of my own life: I consumed stories ravenously as a child, and they have defined my personal and academic life thus far. My life has also been defined by the Christian faith. Ironically, I never engaged with the stories most Christians hold dearest until I enrolled in my first religious studies course, Christian history, as a first-year at Grinnell College. In this course, I was rattled by the realization that the Bible had “fashioned and filled” the world around me, my church, the underpinnings of ideas and systems I came in contact with daily, and, perhaps most alarming, the morals and values I had inherited and chosen, without my slightest awareness. As the course continued on, I learned about the first female apostle and was deeply struck by the ease with which a 14th-century translation erased female leadership from the Bible. On the final exam to this course, I was asked “what will you be taking away?” My answer was immediate: I will remember Junia.

— — —

ANALYSIS

I’m assuming most of you are wondering who Junia is. One might expect the author to offer her background in the rest of the SofP, but in this case, our expectation would be disappointed, so here’s some background.

Junia is mentioned only once in the Christian Bible, in the Old Testament (Paul’s epistle to the Romans, chapter 16 verse 7). From biblical scholarship, we know that Junia was a woman who worked alongside Paul, the Greek-speaking Jewish guy from Asia Minor who spread the message of Christianity in the first century. As they went from town to town shaking things up and announcing that Jesus was the son of God, they became a threat to local authorities and both were imprisoned.

The significance is not that she’s supposed to have done or said anything highly memorable (scandalous, miraculous, radical, deplorable, etc.). Her historical noteworthiness is that in the 14th century, some scribe somewhere added an ‘s’ to her name, which effectively turned her into a man. Similar to how if one changed the final ‘a’ to an ‘o’ in names like Claudia, Maria, or Julia, readers would no longer assume a female referent but would rather assume the person in question was a guy. Thus by centering the first paragraph around Junia, the author is further situating herself within the history of feminist scholarship that she had already laid the groundwork for in the opening sentence by referring to “literary-feminist exegesis” (exegesis = critical interpretation of scripture).

Now let’s look at the opening sentence:

“In the introduction to her literary-feminist exegesis, Texts of Terror, Phyllis Trible writes that stories are the “style and substance” of our existence, that they “fashion and fill” our lives.” 

— — —

What I like about this opener is that:

1. It shares some of the author’s values (feminism, the power of narrative and storytelling to create meaning).

2. It engages with a specific scholar, text, and concept and thereby avoids generalities.

3. It’s exceedingly unlikely that other candidates that year wrote a similar first sentence, which means that it was

4. Not predictable and not formulaic

5. The book she refers to, Texts of Terror: Literary-Feminist Readings of Biblical Narratives, was written by a renowned feminist biblical scholar and based on a series of lectures she delivered at Yale. The admissions committee reading this SofP would be familiar with the text and that lecture series, and so it additionally demonstrates that this applicant has done her homework and knows the specificities of what kinds of scholarship Yale’s Divinity School has supported in the past.

If I were to point to any weaknesses, I would note that the idea she summarizes is not original. That said, the many strengths far outweigh the one weakness. One final note about the hook: I like it in part because of its simplicity. Oftentimes, we paralyze ourselves with fear by telling ourselves that our first sentence has to be mind-bogglingly brilliant, when the truth is that it simply must be thoroughly designed to inform the reader of something critical we hope to accomplish in our graduate studies.

Again, a grad school statement of purpose is first and foremost an academic statement. In this case, by placing herself in conversation with an influential scholar in the field, the author demonstrates from the get-go that she brings knowledge of the field that she feels she is ready to embark upon at Yale.

Moving on, the rest of the paragraph builds upon the power of stories, specifically within the Christian faith, and the author situates herself both personally (as a Christian) and academically (as a student of Christian history). By far the best sentence in this paragraph is where the author admits to being “rattled” by the realization that so much of her life had been “fashioned and filled” by the Bible unbeknownst to her. I like this for two reasons.

• First: rattled. It’s a cool word! Uncommon, yet familiar. It precisely names an emotion we’ve all felt upon occasion, an experience that is akin to the “Aha” or Eureka moment of sudden realization or insight that psychologists have long studied. But there is an added connotation of dread or fear. Psychologically, it takes courage to probe deeply into what we’ve been rattled by, so …

• The second reason this stands out is that this sentence shows something about the author’s maturity, ability for self-reflection, and character.

In the remainder of the paragraph, the author ties the feminist, literary, Biblical, and historical strands together by sharing her discovery of the 14th-century erasure of a female character from Biblical stories.

PARAGRAPH TWO: BACKGROUND PREPARATION

I spent much of my undergraduate career after this studying literature and learning to write my own narratives as an English major—a pursuit which, continually, drew me back to the themes I studied in courses for a Religious Studies minor. This range of academic focus allowed me to enter my first Biblical Studies course with an eye not only for theology, but with the skills to study literary elements such as narrative structure, genre tropes, and source study. Further, the tension that arose when I began to grapple with the Bible as a piece of literature alongside its value as my Holy book, was, and continues to be, unexplainably thrilling. Consideration of the text’s discontinuities and human errors in academic discourse has enhanced and complicated my personal reading of scripture; likewise, I believe my identity as a woman of faith has enhanced and complicated what I contribute to an academic discourse. I cannot analyze a story like the rape of Tamar in 2 Samuel rhetorically or historically without also considering modern, female readership. The challenge of considering these texts and stories holistically is precisely what I want to lean into in my graduate studies.

— — —

ANALYSIS

A significant chunk of any SofP must address the candidate’s academic qualifications and preparedness for graduate studies. While the author doesn’t go into depth, she briefly explains how her undergraduate major (English) and minor (Religious Studies) prepared her to wrestle with hermeneutic challenges that could easily present themselves to a feminist scholar of a religious text that contains repeated references to sexual assault and the subordination of women.

Sidebar: It’s often—but not always—appropriate to share relevant personal identificatory information (here, the applicant’s religion because she’s applying to divinity school; in other cases, insofar as the information strengthens the overall application or helps tell the story that prepared the person to apply for X degree, it might be worthwhile to share nationality, age, disability, sexuality, gender identity, geographic origin, race, class, and/or ethnicity).