Faith and scholarship

Review: I (Still) Believe

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i still believe

I (Still) Believe, John Byron and Joel N. Lohr, editors. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2015.

Summary: Seventeen narratives of scholars who address the question of whether academic study of the Bible is a threat to one’s faith.

One of the ironies of seminary studies are the popular stories of those who went off to seminary only to lose their faith. I’ve seen that happen. The question may be asked, “is academic study of the Bible a threat to the student’s faith?”

The seventeen prominent scholars who contributed to this volume (as well as the two editors) answer this question with a resounding no! The editors provided a series of questions regarding the academic journeys of the scholars, instances where their studies posed challenges to their faith and ways their lives have been enriched by their studies, the role of the church in their work, and the advice they would give aspiring scholars.

Richard Bauckham’s response typifies those in this volume:

All this seems to me relevant to the fact that I have never experienced anything like a “crisis of faith” through my study of the Bible–or through any other kind of study, for that matter. There seems to me nothing remarkable about that fact, but people sometimes find it surprising….I think it may be helpful if I go back behind my work to the deeper roots of my faith. I have always loved God (p. 23).

What struck me through these narratives was that the scholars are marked by this abiding love for God and God’s scriptures, a love that began in childhood for some, following conversion for others, but has remained through their lives and scholarly journeys. Some grew up in fundamentalist circles, which often seems deadly for academic studies, but in this case, the experience was one of loving the Bible from sword drills to family devotions.

That does not mean that they did not face challenges to their faith. The greatest challenges were life experiences, particularly the loss of loved ones, as for example narrated by R.W.L. Moberly in the loss of his wife. He concludes:

Probably the greatest challenge that any Christian scholar faces, however, is not different from that which any believer faces: How can I keep my first love fresh? Love for God and love for one’s subject can both become dulled over time. There is no simple solution. For me, at least, it is a matter of life-long learning: learning to bring together head and heart, learning to pursue both truth and goodness, and learning to recognize that any and every place and time and situation is where, in the words of Moses, I must choose life (p. 210).

I saw several other recurring themes in the work. One was the importance of mentors who modeled both faith and scholarship. Names like C.F.D Moule, Brevard Childs, and James Muilenberg came up over and over. There were a host of others as well.

Another was an intellectual openness coupled with a commitment to the authority and inspiration of scripture. For many who came out of fundamentalism, their understanding of the nature of the trustworthiness of scripture changed over time. For many, the constructions of inerrancy they grew up with became inadequate to their understanding of the kind of book the Bible is. This did not mean a rejection of the Bible, if anything scripture grew in its authority and influence in these scholars’ lives.

Reading about the academic journeys of these scholars, from their studies to their teaching was fascinating. Sometimes there were setbacks, particularly when convictions no longer conformed to their institutions. Many of the narratives detail the scholarly questions, publications, and insights these scholars pursued over the course of their academic careers. For some, there were corresponding journeys in the church communions of which they were part. For example Edith Humphreys describes her journey from the Salvation Army, through Anglicanism, to the Orthodox Church.

These scholars see their work as in service to the church and often enriched by their participation in its ministry. Beverly Roberts Gaventa speaks pointedly about the ethos of self-promotion she sometimes sees in the field while the church often offers up thin gruel. On the other hand, Scot McKnight writes about his congregation, one in which his children and grandchildren are part:

It is of great significance to Kris and me that we are handing on our faith to our children and their children–in the context of worship and fellowship. What is doing on there is propped up by an academic career of teaching and writing, but what goes on transcends an academic career. It is there–under the preached Word and in the Eucharist–that Jesus’ death and resurrection bring forgiveness and justification. When my grandkids become adults and begin to think about me as their grandfather I want them to say that their grandfather was always talking about Jesus, even on the golf course or during baseball games (p. 171).

I thought this a quite wonderful collection, particularly for one considering theological studies. The narratives highlight the grace of God, the orientations of our hearts, the providence of God in one’s career, and the delights of research and teaching and an intellectual life open to the Spirit of God, motivated by the love of God, and the centrality of the risen Christ. They invite the pursuit of this work for its own sake, trusting the guidance of God, warning of the uncertainties of academic careers. It left me with a fresh appreciation for the work of these scholars, and the deep life of faith that motivates so many of them.

__________________________

I received this book as a gift from John Byron, executive dean and vice president of Ashland Theological Seminary, where I was privileged to pursue my own theological studies. The views expressed in this review are my own.

Hope for the Humanities?

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?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????The other day, I wrote on the rise of STEM education as well as alternate forms of post-secondary training. I argued that for many these forms of education provide the opportunity for productive work and economic advance. Also, I noted that the traditional liberal arts, humanities-oriented education might be an unaffordable luxury for many who do not come from more leisured, elite backgrounds. You might think I have it out for the humanities. And you couldn’t be more wrong.

The word “humanities” points to the fact that these disciplines have to do with the “human.” Historically, these disciplines have explored what it means to be human, how we have thought and lived out our humanness through history, what the life well-lived looks like, what constitutes the good, the true, and the beautiful, from whence they come, and why they matter. The worth of the humanities have been argued as the intellectual enrichment, and the depth of understanding, and character that informs virtuous life and citizenship. Stanford University defines the humanities as follows:

The humanities can be described as the study of how people process and document the human experience. Since humans have been able, we have used philosophy, literature, religion, art, music, history and language to understand and record our world. These modes of expression have become some of the subjects that traditionally fall under the humanities umbrella. Knowledge of these records of human experience gives us the opportunity to feel a sense of connection to those who have come before us, as well as to our contemporaries.

Some of the courses I took in college (many were Gen Ed required courses) set me on a lifelong journey of learning. Most significant were a couple of courses in history that helped me see that history wasn’t simply about events and dates but understanding the complex variables of politics, economics, personality, beliefs, and so much else that contribute to events. I trace my love of history from those courses that impressed me with the idea that there was a value in knowing how we got here historically. Likewise, literature courses taught me to read deeply and critically, enhancing my enjoyment and appreciation of works. A philosophy course helped me understand the key figures in philosophy and the great questions of ultimate reality, ethics, and the ideas of the good, the true and the beautiful. I didn’t major in any of these disciplines but the courses began a lifelong pursuit of learning in each. This leads me to some observations:

  1. It appears to me that the radical skepticism and suspicion that seems to characterize some of the critical approaches particularly in literature and history may be digging these disciplines’ graves, rather than fostering a love of the humanities among both majors and non-majors. I can never forget the stunned look of a grad student in literature when I asked her when was the last time she had enjoyed a book.
  2. It seems we need to accept the reality that because of the demands of many technical disciplines there will be limited opportunity for humanities education of college students and thought and research needs to be devoted to how this might whet the appetite of the receptive to pursue lifelong learning.
  3. I wonder if there needs to be a conversation between secondary educators and the higher ed world on how to make the most of both high school and Gen Ed courses in the humanities. We saw dedicated high school teachers at my son’s school foster an engaged learning in lit and history courses.
  4. I’m struck with how much interest in the humanities there is among educated adults later in life. There is the example of The Great Courses and other online courses as well as reading groups organized around various interests in many communities. In our state, adults over 60 can audit courses at state universities and this affords opportunities for humanities educators to engage with motivated students.
  5. Departments who want to attract more majors need to be both compelling and honest. Majors may very well need to do a graduate degree or a second undergrad degree in a more employable field. For a student to choose that form of double work means they need compelling reasons to pursue these fields of study, inherent in the discipline.

This brings me to a critical question. The liberal arts developed in the context of the cathedral schools and universities that grew out of the church and the early universities in this country that were almost all church-related institutions. The liberal arts grew out of a perspective that rooted goodness, truth, and beauty in the transcendent, that understood both the greatness and fallibility of human beings, that saw history as having a telos or end and not simply the study of the will to power, or just “one damn thing after another” as Henry Ford saw it. It is striking that so many, like Anthony Kronman, continue to argue for the humanities, acknowledge their religious roots and yet are unwilling to allow a possible role of scholars of faith in contemporary studies in the humanities even though they may be the allies who may play a key role in their recovery.

The demise of the humanities would be a great loss. We are human beings and not just human doings. Understanding what it means to be human, and how to live well, and to understand how humans live best in society are all things the humanities can teach us. Might it not be one of those times when all who value the humanities, whether people of faith or not, come together to re-conceive their place in the academy? Along the way, we all might learn a bit more about what it means to be human.