Now that theology is effectively excluded from the university, what does it mean to be a Christian scholar?
Newman establishes that theology concerns the fact of God. Religion is not just a custom-based institution that satisfies human emotional needs. In the mid-nineteenth century, this may have been a little easier to argue than it is now. The secularization that Newman feared has been fulfilled. In academia, religion is based on feelings, not knowable truth, and thus has lost its intellectual validity. Because God has been declared dead, theology is no longer knowledge. It is simply a useful sentiment. Our universities have adjusted accordingly: To fit the restructuring of a godless reality, each university discipline has adapted new theories and explanations of human behavior, the mind, the family, politics, creativity, and culture.
As a person of religious convictions, I am certain of God’s all-powerful existence, but I am undeniably influenced by the culture’s demeaning view of religion. I have begun to feel confusion about being a Christian scholar, seeking knowledge of the Truth amidst a general consensus that theology is not valid knowledge. At times, I feel like two people: the scholar who delights to seek knowledge within a framework informed by God’s truth, and the uncertain scholar who is intimidated by the loud voice of modern method.
The university, which is based on relativism, automatically sets up a conflict for those who espouse objective beliefs. Because I believe God IS, I also believe he has established truth, and it is a high, honorable aim of man to uncover that truth. However, in academia, interpretation and mutual appreciation have deposed truth. If I claim to know the right view, I am insulting all the other views. Relativism and objective truth are incompatible…and thus I am incompatible with modern theories.
How does this conflict manifest itself? In the field of Literature, classic approaches are overwhelmed by modern critical theory. Rather than objectively studying the significance of a text, we formulate relativistic interpretations. Instead of looking at how literature speaks to the big questions (What is truth? What is man and how should he live? What is his relation to the divine?), we use narrow theories to examine/psychoanalyze what the text says about the self, “otherness,” female empowerment, sexual tension, etc. If I interpret a text from the stance of knowableness, I am asserting obnoxious objectivity in what Allan Bloom calls “a gray network of critical concepts.” For instance, in my independent study project on the American Puritans, who attracted me by their real, stalwart faith, I am hesitant to show my Christian-based admiration too openly. If I did that, I might be suspected of sanctioning the Puritan sin of intolerance.
In The Closing of the American Mind, Bloom discusses the modern academic opposition to firm belief. He argues at length that the modern virtue of “openness” has closed our minds. To be “open” is to equally value all cultures, religions, ideas, etc.—no one is “right” or “wrong.” After all, history tells us that wars and other evils were caused by people who claimed to be right. Bloom writes, “Relativism has extinguished the real motive of education, the search for a good life” (34). Relativistic openness creates an attitude of indifference among students. If it doesn’t matter which ideas you choose, why bother to learn any?
The alternative to the “openness of indifference” is the “openness that invites us to the quest for knowledge and certitude” (41). If things can be known—if deep, important questions can be answered—then education is water for the thirsty. Relativism-based education is like wandering in a desert—when there’s a bewildering sandstorm and you’re parched. There’s no hope of finding your way, because there is no destination. Eventually, hopeless thirst recedes into apathy, and the traveler stops looking for a path. The soul waits to die. Religious belief gives me a destination, solid footing, spiritual and mental sustenance, guidance on the pathway, and (so to speak) an ever-ready oasis of refreshing water.
Religion is consigned to the realm of opinion, but I believe it is truth. Because it is truth, knowledge of God merits a place in that grand quest for truth: the university. Perhaps you can see why I sometimes feel torn into two people—and experience guilt for feeling that way. I’m still confused about what to do with the situation: Since there’s no reconciling relativism and belief, is there still a way to seek grounded knowledge, while engaging with today’s academic conversation? Is this a war of ideas, or does it call for skilled avoidance?
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Excellent post, Christine. I like the way you write.
ReplyDeleteSome thoughts:
I see relativism as a self contained system that provides an optional framework for looking at certain things (literature, history, human beings) that is often interesting and sometimes useful. Of course, relativism does not account for all of reality as I see it. I believe in the supernatural and the transcendence of God, amongst other things. But I do think there is value to be had in pondering subjective meanings apart from objective ones. I like to consider what meaning a specific event has to a particular individual or community, and what that might or might not say about humanity as a whole, instead of always evaluating things in terms of one theological system, even one in which I believe.
The homeschool curriculum that I used from 3rd grade all through high school taught everything, but especially English and history, from a strictly Christian point of view. It was not a bad curriculum and it provided some religious grounding that may have been good for establishing my thoughts, but it was limiting. Really my understanding of literature has been more deepened and enriched by secular sources of learning I pursued on my own, that approach literary criticism from a more relativistic, postmodern framework.
I think I agree with you about relativism and objective truth being incompatible. I doubt that it is possible to think like a Christian and think like a relativist simultaneously. So, I've come to allow both systems to exist in my mind, but separately, informing my experience and reading in their different ways.
Of course, maintaining and tolerating that (perhaps questionable) split is a fairly easy matter for a passive reader like myself. I'm sure the challenges are very different for an earnest Christian who feels a call to an active academic life. I have no idea how such a person would or ought to proceed in today's intellectual climate. This is partly why I think the idea behind your blog is so cool and look forward to reading more of your thoughts. :)
*munches popcorn expectantly*
God bless!
Hi Leah,
ReplyDeleteFor the “split” you’re talking about, it might be helpful to distinguish between embracing a relativist philosophy and exploring the meaning of literary texts, history, etc. The former is incompatible with objective standards. Relativism says there is no objective truth: you can choose your own.
The latter (seeking meaning) is indispensable to a full view of reality. To analyze a text, I try to see it as it is—avoid “Christianizing” it, but also avoid modernizing it. The question is not: Does this book pass the “Biblically relevant” test? Neither is the question: What does it mean to me? Instead, look at what’s in the text—what does it say about reality and the human experience? What’s the context? What viewpoint is it coming from? And yes, how does the book relate to other works, and to what I know to be true? These questions can begin to uncover meaning. For history, similarly, we look at primary sources and analyze the viewpoint of secondary sources, so that we better understand the meaning of an event that actually happened. Relativism can condone a re-writing of history, according to what anyone wants it to mean.
And in this search for meaning, other critics certainly are helpful. Like you, I benefit from a variety of sources, Christian and secular. I agree with many things they say; however, that doesn't mean I switch my philosophy every time I read a book. We are all going to have a point of view no matter what—that goes for you, me, and every author. There's no neutral ground in the human mind. Critical questions must be asked about the literary critics and historians, to illumine how their beliefs are informed.
Christianity says that truth exists, is knowable, and is applicable. Christianity’s claims are completely comprehensive. Therefore, if Christianity is true, then it is a comprehensive worldview. In order to be consistent, my view of God has to carry into every part of my life. Your curriculum likely presented a truncated vision of Christianity, which really is narrowing. The all-encompassing God is robustly capable of dealing with all arenas, including literary interpretation, without narrowing what we learn. In fact, I’m exploring the idea that firm belief is the best basis for bold, far-reaching, broad-minded scholarship.
Thanks for bringing this up! Responding helped me delve deeper and think through important questions…Actually, in discussing real-world application with you, I articulated a preliminary answer to the questions ending my post.
More posts coming... :)
Hi Leah! I just re-read this answer and realized (with a chuckle) that my style sounds more like a term paper than a message to a friend.
ReplyDeleteBy the way, I found your livejournal and I loved your candid, thoughtful, creative way of expressing yourself. Someone like you probably writes anyway, whether on or offline, but do you plan to start up a blog again?
Hello Again,
ReplyDeleteWow, thanks for the long and well thought out reply to my comment. I enjoyed reading your thoughts (and actually did so several time over). Don't worry, you can address a term paper to me whenever you like and have a grateful recipient. :)
Perhaps you are right and the cure for the "split" is to tinker with my Christian worldview until it comprehends all of reality. Seems tricky though. I don't think my world view is very coherent and consistent at this point. Sometimes I try to make various pieces fit together, and when they won't I say "the heck with it" and go watch music videos on youtube instead, haha.
I think the difficulty may be that I'm not sure how to think Christianly about some of the subjects I'm interested in-- psychology, philosophy, modern literature-- without becoming more narrowly moralistic in my thoughts than seems to do the complexity of the subjects justice.
In other news, I'm glad that you perceive me as a perpetual writer, but I've really hardly written a thing, on or offline, for the last couple years. My focus has been more on marriage, home owning, and pregnancy, but probably once I become more settled in these roles creative writing will find it's natural place again. For now I'm just reading when I can and writing the occasional annoyingly long comment on somebody else's blog post. :)
P.S.
ReplyDelete"In fact, I’m exploring the idea that firm belief is the best basis for bold, far-reaching, broad-minded scholarship."
This sounds hopeful and well worth exploring! Really these kinds of thoughts are quite important to ponder and consider, especially for products of the homeschooling experience like ourselves, who will hopefully be carrying on the tradition.