A Shout-Out to the Jesuits

Image of Ignatius from Jesuits.org

Today is the feast day for Ignatius of Loyola in the Roman Catholic Church, and is the day on which the founder of the Jesuits died in 1556. A brief sketch of his life may be found here. My interaction with the Jesuits has been limited but as I think about the legacy and influence of Ignatius, I cannot help but think of the influence of two of my Jesuit professors at the University of Notre Dame. Brian Daley, S.J., is an award-winning theologian and patristics scholar, and Jerry Neyrey, S.J., is a (now retired) New Testament scholar who was instrumental in bringing social scientific approaches to the study of the Bible. Aside from their impressive scholarship and influence in their fields, both are tremendous teachers, mentors, and living examples of “faith seeking understanding.”

During my time at Notre Dame I worked more closely with Father Neyrey since he served on my dissertation committee, and I have always deeply appreciated his intellectual generosity in sharing of his time and his own research findings and source materials. I also appreciate his ability to provide pithy and incisive critique—a skill of his of which I was often the beneficiary and which I know has greatly influenced my own work.

In a recent interview in America, Father Daley called for “well-informed, generous moderation” in theological discussions today, in contrast to the kinds of polarizing and caustic kinds of expression that are seen in many quarters of our culture today. Such well-informed, generous moderation is what he and Father Neyrey modeled for me at Notre Dame. He explains: “A thoughtful and sympathetic understanding of tradition…frees us to imagine what the church can best be today and tomorrow.” This, to me, is a large part of what a university education, within the context of an institution grounded in a particular faith tradition, can provide to students. It can help them to understand their tradition in ways that allow them to appreciate it more fully. And it also gives them the tools to think critically and creatively about their tradition, the traditions of others, and the ways in which these traditions can inform the problems and challenges confronting the world around them.

In the interview, Father Daley noted his plans to continue researching and writing and also providing spiritual direction and pastoral ministry even after he retires in a few years: “For Jesuits, thinking and writing and teaching are all forms of what St. Ignatius called ‘helping souls,’ which is what we do.” I very much resonate with that idea and have found that for those called to higher education--even as other tasks, roles, and responsibilities press in--, thinking well, writing well, and teaching well remain at the heart of our work.

Mercy Themes in the Song of Zechariah

Being at a Sisters of Mercy university means that the concept of mercy, and what it means for our educational context, our pedagogy, and our institution, is often part of the conversation.  Today I was struck by the way in which mercy is explicitly invoked in the infancy narrative of Luke’s Gospel in the Song of Zechariah (Luke 1:68-79) Though not necessarily a psalm sung by the early Christians, this passage does seem to reflect the Jewish milieu of the early church and also probably reflects themes and expressions prominent in early Christian worship, particularly with its psalm-like style. For a detailed treatment of the psalm as a kind of didactic hymn, see pp. 311-314 in my book Teaching through Song in Antiquity. There I argue that hymns, psalms, and prayers included in other genres (such as narratives and epistles) often have a didactic function: while ostensibly directed in praise of God, they serve to instruct the reader by promoting a particular view of reality that the reader is urged to embrace. The power and impact of using a hymn in this way is that the author can move out of the normal expression of writing history or a letter, and can engage the reader or hearer with language, imagery, and expressions that have a greater affective impact. Thus, the ways in which hymns and psalms convey their instruction is somewhat different than the direct instruction of someone simply saying, “This is how it is.” The didactic impact of a hymn or song is in some ways more "caught" than directly taught.

In the case of the Song of Zechariah (commonly referred to as the Benedictus), by including it in the narrative Luke is able to highlight a number of themes important to his overall Gospel. In particular, through the psalm style and allusions to key events of deliverance in the history of Israel, Luke is able to show that Jesus and John are both to be understood as part of that history of God’s mercy. The reader learns this without Luke ever having to say it explicitly. The portions of the passage that explicitly invoke the theme of mercy are:

Thus he has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors (v. 72a)

And

By the tender mercy of our God,
the dawn from on high will break upon us,
to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the way of peace. (vv. 78-79)

It is thus the mercy of God which is the originating impetus behind a number of favorable results for humanity. Following the logic of the psalm, we might note that this divine mercy results in: incarnation (faithful presence of the promised savior); illumination (light for those in darkness); guidance; progress along a good path; and peace (shalom; well-being). These are the kinds of values and practices that Luke promotes by including this hymnic passage within his narrative. In singing this song, Zechariah serves as a model of someone who recognizes and experiences God’s mercy and responds with praise. He has also become a teacher, instructing the reader in the way in which the story of Jesus is to be understood, and holding up the values to be put into practice within the Christian community. The story of Jesus is thus a story of God’s mercy resulting in the sending of the savior (v. 68) and the resulting illumination of those living in darkness.

Those seeking to embody and practice this kind of mercy today can consider ways in which they can participate in the same kinds of redemptive tasks: embodying faithful presence to those in need; offering illumination and instruction that can change lives; offering guidance and mentoring to the next generation; and working for the well-being of humanity and of our world. To participate in these kinds of redemptive tasks today, even on the smallest scale, would seem to be ways of bringing the mercy of God to those who need it: all of us.

Contemplation and Action

Having just begun a new position at Carlow University, I find myself in an exciting and energizing phase in which I am daily meeting new colleagues, learning about new programs, and becoming acquainted with the culture and traditions of my new school. Among the many positive things I am discovering, I am really pleased to be learning about the ways in which Carlow University embodies the values and practices of its founding order, the Sisters of Mercy. Founded by Catherine McAuley in 19th century Ireland, the Sisters of Mercy practice a kind of spirituality that is marked by contemplation and action, and is thus an approach to the Christian life that values mercy, hospitality, and service, as well as a sense of wonder at the mysteries of creation and a respect for all that God has created. I am just beginning to learn how these aspects of the tradition are brought to life in the curriculum, on the campus spaces, in extra-curricular activities, and in the way in which Carlow faculty and staff go about their educational work in ways that place a high value on relationships and concern for the whole person.

One dimension of this that is new not only to me but to everyone on campus is a new core curriculum called the Carlow Compass. This undergraduate general education curriculum is being implemented this fall with a first round of new classes. While the curriculum as a whole is quite unique in its design, one especially innovative aspect of the Compass is the way in which this idea of contemplation joined with action is built into a student's experience. Specifically, in a discipline-specific “Contemplation and Action” course, students identify a real problem or challenge that is of concern to them, and then they work with their professors to consider how they can draw on the wisdom of that academic discipline to begin to address it. Regardless of the problem students identify, or the academic discipline they are studying, students learn to practice and value contemplation—deep, reflective, critical thinking—as well as meaningful action informed by that kind of reflection.

This process reflects the Mercy heritage as reflected in the writings and life of Catherine McAuley, who was a person of action and a person of reflection. In reading about her the other day I came across this poem which bears this theme out well:

Sweet Mercy! – soothing, patient, kind –

softens the high and rears the fallen mind;

knows with just rein and even hand to guide

between false fear and arbitrary pride.

Not easily provoked, she soon forgives:

feels love for all, and by a look, relieves.

Soft peace she brings wherever she arrives,

removes our anguish and reforms our lives;

makes the rough paths of peevish nature even,

and opens in each heart a little heaven.

(cited in Helen Marie Burns and Sheila Carney, Praying with Catherine McAuley [Winona, MN: St. Mary’s Press, 1996], p. 36.)

I and my faculty are looking forward to seeing how students respond to this new approach to the core curriculum. I applaud the work of the faculty and administration here who have taken such a thoughtful and purposeful approach to helping students develop the perspectives and skills that Carlow University claims to value.

A Christmas Hymn of St. Ambrose

For Christmas, I'll venture a little beyond the Second Temple Period and New Testament era to a fourth-century advent hymn of St. Ambrose, Veni, Redemptor gentium (Come, Thou Savior of Our Race). Among his many accomplishments as a bishop, theologian, and doctor of the Church, Ambrose of Milan was also a gifted hymn-writer whose works have been used in worship for over a millennium. The English translation below is from http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/c/t/s/ctsoorac.htm.

Wishing all readers of this blog a merry Christmas!

Come, Thou Savior of our race,

Choicest Gift of heav’nly grace!

O Thou blessèd virgin’s Son,

Be Thy race on earth begun,

Be Thy race on earth begun.

Not of mortal blood or birth,

He descends from Heaven to earth;

By the Holy Ghost conceived,

God and man by us believed,

God and man by us believed.

Wondrous birth! O wondrous Child

Of the virgin undefiled!

Though by all the world disowned,

Still to be in Heaven enthroned,

Still to be in Heaven enthroned

From the Father forth He came,

And returneth to the same;

Captive leading death and hell—

High the song of triumph swell,

High the song of triumph swell!

Equal to the Father now,

Though to dust Thou once didst bow,

Boundless shall Thy kingdom be;

When shall we its glories see,

When shall we its glories see?

Brightly doth Thy manger shine!

Glorious in its light divine:

Let not sin o’ercloud this light,

Ever be our faith thus bright,

Ever be our faith thus bright.

An Innovative Approach to Addressing Student Debt

It is widely recognized that one of the most serious issues facing undergraduate and graduate students today is the problem of student debt. This issue is particularly significant for divinity students whose vocational aspirations tend toward fields like ministry, teaching, working in non-profit organizations, and other kinds of service professions which do not hold out the promise of high salaries. Divinity schools and seminaries across the country are exploring a variety of ways to address this problem including shortening degree program lengths, using innovative delivery methods, providing debt counseling, and limiting tuition increases. My institution, Regent University School of Divinity, has taken each of these steps, but is also trying an innovative new approach to deal with the problem of student debt.

Thanks to a generous $250,000 grant from the Lilly Endowment's Theological School Initiative to Address Economic Issues Facing Future Ministers program, the School of Divinity has launched a three-year program called "Partners In Ministry Training." This program will  help educate students with regard to securing funding and financial support for their education, as well as provide a means for helping churches partner with divinity students for mutually beneficial relationships. A series of special seminars and training events is planned for students in the program, and the increased availability of ministry opportunities within local churches during students' time at the School of Divinity is also a focus. The program is currently in the process of identifying churches and other organizations who will partner with the School of Divinity in this endeavor. Applications are also being accepted for students who will be beginning their theological studies in Summer or Fall 2015 and who wish to participate in this program. More information is available at this website.

Sixty-seven schools received grants from Lilly totaling over $12 million to experiment with a wide range of new programs to help address the problem of student debt for people going into ministry. It will be exciting to see the results of these efforts in the lives of students and alumni--and the churches that will have partnered with them--in the years to come.

Psalms of Solomon and Pauline Studies

This weekend I’ll be presenting my paper on “Psalms of Solomon and Pauline Studies” at the annual meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature. The session occurs on Sunday from 1 to 3:30pm at the Hilton Bayfront (Sapphire Ballroom M). I’ll make a case that the Psalms of Solomon have more to offer the study of Paul than has been realized. By reading the Psalms of Solomon as a kind of poetry of resistance we can be more attuned to the ways that these psalms functioned for their readers in helping them maintain their deuteronomic and covenantal perspective in the face of current events that might otherwise have led to despair and even abandonment of their cultural and religious traditions. We can also recognize that Paul would have been familiar not just with the theological content within the Psalms of Solomon but more so with the praxis of poetic resistance which they represented--a tradition with deep roots in the Hebrew Scriptures (see the work of Hugh Page along these lines). Thus when Paul uses bits of early Christian psalms or hymns about Christ, we can consider that these may likewise be instances of Paul’s own poetic practice of resistance as he offers his readers an alternative vision of reality from that which was on offer in the world around them.

In addition to the papers of my fellow presenters, prepared responses to my paper are to be given by Pamela Eisenbaum, Iliff School of Theology, Ward Blanton, University of Kent at Canterbury, and N. T. Wright, University of St. Andrews.

Toward a Philosophy of Integrated Learning

In the first chapter of The Heart of Higher Education: A Call to Renewal, Parker Palmer outlines some elements that contribute to a philosophy of what he and others have called “integrated education.” Integrated learning models typically center on techniques and approaches to learning that can help bridge the gap between discrete disciplines and enable students to make connections across the curriculum in ways that are holistic rather than piecemeal. These models include many now familiar elements such as capstone courses, linked courses, service learning, team teaching, first-year experiences, and other creative ways of engaging students as whole persons. While the value of many of these techniques have been recognized, in his chapter “Toward a Philosophy of Integrated Learning,” Palmer addresses not the practices themselves but an underlying philosophy of education that drives the integrated education model. He does this by outlining four categories: ontology, epistemology, pedagogy, and ethics.

The “ontological reality” that Palmer discusses (pp. 25-26) is based on new developments in science that have moved from atomic theory (an understanding of reality as a bunch of individual atoms) to a quantum theory which sees each particle as existing only in relation to other particles. This more relational approach to reality leads to seeing the cosmos as “a historical community of interdependent beings” (citing Ian Barbour). This understanding supports learning that is integrated and understood in ways that are interactive and interconnected across many disciplines.

Palmer discusses an “epistemological necessity” (pp. 27-29), by which he means that “we cannot know this communal reality truly and well unless we ourselves are consciously and actively in community with it as knowers” (27). Here he draws on Polanyi’s Personal Knowledge. He also discusses the issue of objectivity and argues that one can “know a relational reality only by being in relation to it” (28). He gives a terrific example of geneticist and Nobel Prize winner Barbara McCLintock who eschews remaining distant and objective: “Over and over again she tells us one must have the time to look, the patience to ‘hear what the material has to say to you,’ the openness to ‘let it come to you.’ Above all, one must have ‘a feeling for the organism.’“ (28, citing Evelyn Fox Keller’s book chronicling her work). As a scholar of early Jewish and Christian texts, I was struck by this statement and the realization that my own study of these texts has been most enlivened when I’ve approached these texts not as “ancient artifacts to be studied” but as the words of poets and authors who wished to communicate something that was of deep significance to them as human beings.

As “a pedagogical asset” (pp. 29-31) the ontology and epistemology lead to teaching that attends to the nature of the relationships between teacher and student, student and student, and student and subject. Hospitality becomes a key feature here as space is made for safe relationships where—I was surprised to see—academic and intellectual rigor can be expected. This approach to teaching brings together the “hard” virtues of scholarship and the “soft” virtues of community so that the deepest kind of learning can take place.

The “ethical corrective” (pp. 31-33) of which Palmer writes is the result of this relational learning: it results in an engagement with the world with a moral component. Not as an “add-on” but as a natural consequence of relating to the material rather than objectively learning facts about it. Palmer gives an example of his own learning about the Holocaust (in an objective way) versus later coming to grips with the kinds of systemic practices and forces which lay behind the Holocaust and continue to shape aspects of human existence even in Palmer’s own world and own mind.

In these ways, Palmer outlines a compelling case for seeing integrative education as a model for education that accords with the latest scientific research on the nature of reality as being interconnected and relational, that aligns with the rich and deep ways in which humans can truly come to know things, that has specific implications for classroom instruction, and that leads to meaningful ethical reflection rather than an artificial, ethically-stunted distance from a given subject. Those unfamiliar with the work of Parker Palmer but who are interested in seeing their students grow and learn in ways that prepare them for lives of meaningful service beyond the walls of the university will find some welcome assistance here in understanding why those aspirations make sense and why they should not be abandoned even in the face of many other pressures.