Whosetory

I was never allowed to celebrate Halloween. Tragic, right? I don't think that I missed much, honestly, and every year was an adventure, hanging dark blankets over the windows and playing very quiet games so that Trick'r'Treaters wouldn't know we were home. Apparently our neighborhood took the "trick" part literally, and they were handy with egg-throwing.

In college I discovered a new tradition. For six years now I have sat in Bible 200 (How to Read the Bible) on October 31 to celebrate Reformation Day. I wish my parents were aware of this tradition when we were growing up - it would have been a lovely counterpoint to the blue velvet drapes. More than that, Reformation Day and events like it have been vital to my faith formation.

That's a strange thing to hear, and sometimes to say. How is a silly party where we dress like we stepped out of the 16th century, eat symbolic foods, and share ridiculous poems about Calvin and Luther helpful for faith formation? The best way I can describe it is history. You know, that subject that you all loved in high school. History gets a bad rap, I think, because we treat it as just that - a subject, no more or less important than learning where commas go in a sentence or how to measure the velocity of a falling object, when it really is much more than that.

Not that English and Physics aren't important areas of study, and more than "subjects" themselves, but History is domething special. Even cultures without written language, where the people are more concerned with survival than with explaining gravity, share stories about where they come from. So why don't we?

Hearing stories about the Reformation never gets old for me, because they help me understand and take heart. Why do we so easily dismiss the faithful men and women who came before us? How audacious of us to assume that our life and times are so much more important than theirs, that we can't spare the time to hear and tell their stories... Maybe it's our individualism that tells us that each life is a free and unfettered start, but we need to get over that. Their stories are our stories, because they are our family, and I, for one, would like to make a habit of learning from their examples instead of making my own mistakes.

Who are you voting for?

Election Season is coming down to the wire, and I hear that tensions over it are running high. On the small college campus of a Christian school, however, it is easy to be insulated from the outside world and the concerns of the nation. For some students, this begins (or perpetuates) a spirit of apathy; between school, clubs, sports and complaining about the food, there is plenty here to occupy young minds. When someone asks our generation to care, don't we normally ask, what difference does our caring make anyway? "It feels like a lesser-of-two-evils decision," and "voting third party is voting for [insert candidate] anyway" are more thoughtful, but express the same sentiment.

A smaller group of students choose to care - intensely. Much like their parents before them, these students know where they stand, who they should vote for, and often what the Bible says about it. The Geneva College Republicans have meetings and t-shirts and an informational table once in a while. There is a quieter, but no less dedicated, group of Democrats furthering their cause on campus. It would be unfair to say that their devotion does no good, but the polarization of their views often lends itself to intimidation rather than honest conversation.

Honest conversation is something that our campus desperately needs, but sometimes the election conversation is ended before it begins because of our fatalistic - or pugilistic - attitudes. This election season, however, I have a new perspective to offer you; new to me, although I can hope that it is not new to you.

Although it sometimes seems that Christians have more to learn about suspending judgment than the rest of the world, there IS something unique about having these conversations at a Christian school, or even more specifically, at Geneva. To summarize the Reformed perspective, we understand the Bible to be God's story which tells us of the good creation of all things, the brokenness of all things, the redemption of all things, and the hope (promise!) of restoration for all things. We, as Christians, are part of the redemption: who we are and what we do, after we have encountered Christ, is inexorably linked to God's love for his creation. It is our duty to represent God well and work toward that final restoration (Romans 8:18-30).

Thinking of the world in this way, therefore, leads me to believe that the real question in our conversations is not, "what do you think about [insert party or candidate]?" It is, "Who and what do you care about?" It is, "How does the current political climate, or a particular election or candidate, impact that thing or those people that you care about?" In the student ministry office we have been drawing attention to the election as often as we can. We frequently disagree - and we know when the conversation starts that we will disagree - but that doesn't stop us from talking about it. None of us questions the others' salvation when we discover that they are registered Democrat, or that they might support a pro-choice candidate, or that they are okay with rich people remaining rich. The discussion is about more than a "position" that can be summarized in one sentence on a political poll. I find it impossible to dismiss the input of a friend when I know that their position, like mine, is driven by a deep love for the poor and the oppressed; our political disagreement grows out of that love, but does not change it.

I find hope in having conversations about politics that end with hope rather than anger, and in having conversations that recognize that one election - or even all elections of all time - will neither fix nor damn the world. Life is bigger than that, and God is certainly bigger than that. In the end, whether there is a Republican, Democrat, or cartoon character in the White House, the things we care about will not change, the people we love will have no less need. Political discussions are important, laws are important, deciding how to vote and discovering the issues is important... but never forget that they are not the most important things.

The conversations that start because of politics cannot end with an election. If we really care about these things, there is no "win" or "lose" for us, only more or less difficult work for us to do as we move forward, with hope, to the work that God has given us:

He has told you, O man, what is good,
     and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
     and to walk humbly with your God? 

                     Micah 6:8 

Teaching and Shalom

As a student of Higher Education, I spend a portion of every day (including Sundays) immersed in literature, in new and old perspectives of what education could be, should be, how it is and might be done, and every now and again I get to meet some of the people who make these things happen. I am always daunted at the prospect of blogging any of my thoughts; first, because I cannot be sure that my audience is familiar with the material, and second, because I might be wrong. (I know, it would be absolutely tragic to put a potentially incorrect statement on the internet - who does that?)

In our most recent class, however, we have been reading from Nicholas Wolterstorff's book Educating for Shalom. I am almost certain, based on the title and a certain repetitive refrain within the collection of essays, that Wolterstorff is arguing that the end goal of Christian Higher Education is "shalom" - that is, the biblical vision for justice that goes beyond our usual definition: "Shalom incorporates right relationships in general, whether or not those are required by justice; right relationships to God, to one's fellow human beings, to nature, and to oneself. The shalom community is not merely the just community but is the responsible community, in which God's laws for our multifaceted existence are obeyed" (23). The byline of the book - Essays on Christian Higher Education - makes it clear that Wolterstorff is writing to a very particular audience; in fact, he writes to an audience that should be easily convinced by his pedagogy.

I have not found a way to deny his premise. To be entirely honest, it may be too broad for anyone to deny: who in their right mind rejects world peace as a worthy goal for any societal institution, let alone higher education? However, since there will always be people who, from choice or disposition, require that all questions be answered, I had to ask the following question of this premise: if this is true, can you - should you - really do it? Again, it would be odd to reject the idea that shalom is the appropriate end of Christian higher education, but what if we believe this but do not have the honor of working at a Christian institution?

Can I advocate for shalom to students who are not looking for it? Is it unfair to a student to "indoctrinate" them rather than to give them a fair "objective" choice between this and any other end? I would say that the question is better phrased "Can I not do these things?" Because shalom is good. Absolutely good. That is the point of it, to be good for all people, closer to the love and reconciliation of Christ. If we really believe it, then we cannot help wanting this. We have to believe that every student wants this, that this will improve their human experience... even if they are not looking for it.

The question is raised again as I write my "philosophy of education." If I were submitting this statement to a public institution, how would I state my case without what I believe about humanity made Imago Dei? If the role of the professor is to profess truth, and what I believe to be true is recognizably Christian, what do I do?

I may be simplifying the issue, but I am convinced that there is nothing for it - at some point, perhaps far earlier than we would imagine, the only answer is Christ. Christ-followers may be reacquainting themselves with the embodied gospel, the gospel that demonstrates love and justice instead of simply talking about them, and that is a good thing. However, we cannot hide behind our actions and pretend it is enough. If we truly believe what we claim to believe, action will not be enough.

At some point, the words must be said; God help us say them well.