The School of Athens by Raffaello Sanzio

Dean Lindsay Whaley recently led a seminar concerning “Faith and the Academy.” This class explored how Christians should operate in a secular academic environment, and how Christians can glorify God through scholarship. A key aspect of the discussions was the necessity of humility in a Christian’s “life of mind” and academic pursuits.

Approaching scholarship from a secular perspective, one holds human academic accomplishment in high regard. Advanced degrees, published papers, cutting-edge research, and strong rhetorical skills certainly prove an academic’s excellence in his or her field. Such credentials, viewed in a secular framework, may lead one to believe that scholars discover or create or have dominion over knowledge. Today’s scholars are, in a sense, approaching the pinnacle of human knowledge, having the advantage of hundreds, even thousands, of years worth of academic work to draw upon. Though academic progress will presumably continue in future years, today’s researchers do, essentially, know more than any before them. It is easy to view scholarship as a supreme act of human accomplishment, the crowning achievement of a highly evolved mind. This view does not, however, entirely align with a Christian view of knowledge. The Christian’s approach to academia must be tempered with a different cosmic perspective.

The Biblical perspective poses God as the revealer of knowledge and wisdom, and man as their humble recipient. Scripture frequently compares knowledge and wisdom to hidden treasure. Job 28 describes the search for these things, lamenting that they are more difficult to procure than “jewels of fine gold,” “coral or crystal,” and “pearls,” among other riches. Wisdom and understanding are posed as practically inaccessible to humans. Verses 20-21 read, “From where, then, does wisdom come? And where is the place of understanding? It is hidden from the eyes of all living…” The frustration and desperation in these words show man’s inadequacy in the pursuit of “understanding” and “knowledge”; indeed, these things are actively “hidden” from him. The passage does, however, open a doorway for man to find the “treasure.” Verse 28 reads, “…Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom, and to turn away from evil is understanding.” Man finds wisdom in humble reverence for God, rather than in his own aggressive efforts. Understanding involves a flight from evil – reconciliation with a perfect Creator, rather than a process of self-deification through intellectual accomplishment. The ability to think and study comes from God. He provides any inkling of “understanding” or “wisdom” we experience.

This perspective, with God as the source of all wisdom and knowledge, alters how the Christian approaches the academic world. 1 Corinthians 1:20 reads, “Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?” This passage calls into question the quality and value of human knowledge severed from God. God “makes foolish” what the world praises; the knowledge of the great “debater” and the clever “scribe” pales in comparison to God’s wisdom. Considering this, Christians can respect, but not worship, the great academics and thinkers of “this age.” Ultimately a human’s intelligence or accomplishments do not alter his or her worth in God’s eyes. Revering and submitting to God, in academic respects and otherwise, allow man to serve, follow, and glorify Him.

This attitude of humility in academic pursuits has practical possibilities. As one example, Dean Whaley noted how scholarship involves critiquing others’ work. As a Christian, an attitude of humility and love makes this process constructive and encouraging rather than malicious and self-aggrandizing. 1 Corinthians 8:1b reads, “Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.” Essentially, criticism should “build up” the community, while still being tactfully corrective. It should not “puff up” individuals as all-knowing scholars, self-secure in their achievements. 2 Corinthians 1:12 emphasizes  “conducting ourselves…in the holiness and sincerity that are from God.” Maintaining a humble, open, and sincere attitude in academic practices is edifying to the academic community; communication is not blocked by arrogance, and open receipt of constructive criticism allows for sharpened and improved ideas.

All in all, a scriptural approach to academic pursuits emphasizes humility and perspective. By seeing knowledge as God-given, rather than humanly achieved, the Christian appreciates the privilege of learning as a gift from God. At the same time, man’s knowledge, while still impressive by worldly standards, no longer elicits the same degree of awe when compared to God’s infinite wisdom. Finally, a God-centered, humble attitude towards the pursuit of knowledge can impact the practical actions of the academic, in his or her interactions with colleagues and contributions to his or her field. Essentially, as said in Proverbs 2:5, “…you will understand the fear of the LORD and find the knowledge of God.” Humility and reverence towards God can and should define the Christian’s approach to academia.

A noticeable feature of 19th and 20th century thought was the growth of skepticism about nearly ever feature of life, from moral truths to philosophical reasoning. As the project of the Enlightenment was coming to its fullest flowering, and Christian conviction was, at least among the most educated, reaching rock bottom, reason itself was being contracted. Because of the work of philosophers like Hume and Kant, people became less and less sure that we could have any accurate intellectual grasp of truth, of the moral, philosophical, or even common sense variety. So philosophies like relativism and skepticism and non-cognitivism were born.

This strikes me as a very natural effect of Christianity’s weakened influence and power. There seems very little reason to suppose that we can know moral truth, or investigate the world scientifically, or reason philosophically once we have formally (if not actually) removed theistic premises from our mental culture. Why should there be a perceptible rational structure to reality? How can we know that the world we perceive matches the world as it exists? How can we determine the moral course of action in a given situation? That these questions are unanswerable in an atheist universe was clear to the atheists of the 19th and 20th centuries. Nietzsche believed that nihilism would necessarily follow Christianity’s decline (though he hoped the human race would respond to the abyss with creativity, power, and grandeur). It is no accident that Hume was both a thoroughgoing skeptic about our ability to know the external world and also an atheist. The Christian God who was logos had guaranteed our rational and moral capacities. Once that God was removed, there was nothing left except nihilism, relativism, and skepticism.

Friedrich Nietzsche

Or that is all one would have expected to be left. That was clearly the path 19th and 20th century thought was on. But for some reason Western thought pulled away from those philosophies, and today’s atheists advance positions which only make sense in the Christian universe. They are importing Christian assumptions into their thought. The most aggravating thing about the new atheism, and the modern world in general, is its refusal to acknowledge the theological assumptions that animate our institutions, culture, intellectual life, and moral intuitions. Perhaps the most obvious example of this point is the constant assertion by the new atheists that atheists can be moral too.

Of course, very few Christians would disagree. What Christians would say is that there is no identifiable philosophical reason why one should be moral absent theological premises. When asked to provide reasons why, for instance, one should not kill, today’s atheists generally appeal to some foundational premise that they don’t seek to prove. For instance, in his book Morality Without God, Walter Sinott Armstrong rests his entire attempt to build up an atheist morality on the basic belief that “harm is wrong.” He does not really try to prove this principle, because, well, he can’t. Instead, “harm is wrong” is set forth as an intuitive truth that all can agree with. While it is intuitive for us today, it has hardly always been so in the past, and we can’t guarantee that it will be in the future.

This is because, while there is moral truth, the ability of any particular society to grasp it is always imperfect. The moral and philosophical truths that a particular age latches onto are always contingent and variable. For instance, it wasn’t clear at all to pre-Christian pagans that when one’s primary form of entertainment is watching people die in gladiatorial spectacles or, as in the time of Nero, being killed in a tragic play, something might be wrong. Pre-Christian pagans also generally had no sense it might be one’s duty to care for a poor person unconnected to you by blood or relation. The fact that today we can talk about non-violence and charity for the poor is purely a result of the effect Christianity had on the pagan world. Pagan moral intuitions were very different from ours; our moral intuitions today are only what they are because we live in a world where Christianity’s vestigial influence can still be felt.

All this is to say that the new atheists have no right to continue to live off of Christian moral capital while simultaneously attempting to destroy Christianity. Why should our intuitions be more sound than those of the pagans, unless the force that shaped our intuitions- Christianity- is itself sound? As distasteful as we may find some of the conclusions of 19th and 20th century atheists, we can at least honor them for being philosophically consistent. The new atheists cannot claim even that. Instead, in philosophy, science, morality, and culture, they continue to profit from Christianity. If they want to be honest philosophers, they have got either to embrace Christianity or instead to face the moral and rational abyss that, philosophically speaking, necessarily follows from its abandonment.

Much like last week’s Tolle Lege writer Anna Lynn, I attended the Wheelock Conference three weeks ago, and like her I was particularly interested in the Government and Law panel. My greatest interest in the panel did not involve the relationship between Christian faith and the legal profession, but rather the association between religious faith and government itself.

America’s Constitution enshrines freedom of religion, and the general separation of church and state is largely taken for granted today. Most people agree that this is a good thing, since oppression is deplorable and it’s impossible to compel genuine belief anyway. At the same time, though, the separation of church and state has created accompanying questions on the matter of faith itself and the state. If we don’t want an outright theocracy, what is the correct way for Christians to incorporate their faith into their positions on law and government? The question is especially important for elected public officials, since they represent not just themselves but the interests of all people who voted for them.

Daniel Webster debates in the Senate

For a great many Christians, the answer is to seek the same kind of separation that prevails between church and state. Interpreting Jesus’ call to “Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s,” they endeavor to leave faith out of their approach to civic matters. One example of this attitude is on the ever-divisive issue of abortion, where one is used to hearing Catholic politicians declare that while they are personally opposed to abortion and would never want somebody to have one, they do not want to impose their “personal beliefs” on others. The more red-hot the issue, the more likely one is to see individuals advocating the importance of not letting faith “interfere” with public life.

I believe that this is a misguided viewpoint, simply because for all but the most committed libertarians government has a decidedly moral element. Laws against inhumane working conditions, discrimination, or violence against animals are all morally based more than anything else. Similarly, approaches to criminal justice are grounded in moral considerations of what punishments are just. Our public schools are expected to teach the basics of right and wrong to children. Whether one likes it or not, government has a very moral side to it.

If morality cannot actually be separated from government, then how can Christians justify leaving their faith outside the voting booth or city hall? I was quite happy when Conference panelist Stephen Smith ’88 pointed out that attempting to exclude faith from civic matters makes no more sense than trying to discount any other part of our identities. Just like race, nationality, political persuasion, and interests, religion is a fundamental part of what makes each of us who we are. To toss it aside, Smith said, is to essentially say that Christianity is an invalid source of philosophical attitudes. Obviously, a true Christian cannot hold any such belief.

Therefore, I believe it is important that Christians (and, indeed, all religious people) embrace the role religion plays in shaping their opinions on government and not be afraid of deploying these opinions in the public. Of course, this is no excuse to be intolerant, and Christians should never seek to repress the expression of alternative viewpoints. Furthermore, Christians should be willing to engage non-Christians on their own terms if necessary. One excellent idea articulated at the Government and Law panel was the idea of Christian “bilingualism” when it comes to government. A Christian may oppose torture or take some other moral stand using expressly Biblical reasoning, but should be willing and able to make non-Christian arguments for any positions they hold. In this way, Christians can improve the level of dialogue with others and avoid the impression that they simply seek to force sectarian beliefs on everybody.

Of course, the exact degree to which Christians should seek to incorporate morality into the law is up for debate. Individual beliefs certainly play a role in deciding which parts of moral life it is worthwhile for the government to intervene in. I won’t attempt to argue for a particular approach to take. However, as a general principle, Christians should never be ashamed of allowing their faith, which we believe must come before everything else, to mold their views on government and lawmaking.

Two weeks have now passed since the Dartmouth College Wheelock Conference, and yet I am still reflecting upon the many, unexplored ideas presented there.

Strongly considering a future legal career, I attended the Government and Law panel.  Immediately I was struck by the guest panelists; there was not an active practicing lawyer among them.  Stephen F. Smith, J.D. D’88 was the only former lawyer, having retired from practice to teach courses on criminal law, criminal adjudication and federal criminal law.  His report from the court room was not encouraging.  Smith noted that while working for his first large D.C. firm he found a surplus of ambitious young lawyers and a dearth of faith in action.  Stating that a “religious aspect [in his career was] necessary to breathe with two lungs,” Smith afterwards explored his call for justice in the classroom.

Not what I wanted to hear.  Leaving the conference that day, I felt less sure of my path and questioned my willingness to enter into a field intent upon separating church and state.  Do Christians have a place in the law?

The Ten Commandments outside a State Capitol

A passage of scripture my friend and I stumbled upon one week later sent a resounding yes.  1 Corinthians 6: 1-5 states:

“If any of you has a dispute with another, dare he take it before the ungodly for judgment instead of before the saints?  Do you not know that the saints will judge the world?  And if you are to judge the world, are you not competent to judge trivial cases?  Do you not know that we will judge angels?  How much more the things of this life!  Therefore, if you have disputes about such matters, appoint as judges even men of little account in the church!  I say this to shame you.  Is it possible that there is nobody among you wise enough to judge a dispute between believers?”

In his epistle to the Corinthians, Apostle Paul stresses the necessity for Christians to settle disputes amongst one another.  In Paul’s day, however, Romans allowed Jews and Christians to settle their own legal affairs.  With the United States’ commitment to separation of church and state, the liberty of a Christian trial by Christian jury is somewhat idealistic.  Smith also observes that separating church and state from a Christian’s decision making is impossible.  True Christians cannot endorse the inevitable falsehoods sometimes appearing within the practice of law without guilt and shame.  Therefore, does God desire Christians to enter these spiritually dark professions?  Again, Paul addressed my concerns in 1 Corinthians 9: 19-23:

“Though I am free and belong to no man, I make myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible.  To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews.  To those under the law I became like one under the law (though I myself am not under the law), so as to win those under the law….To the weak I became the weak, to win the weak.  I have become all things to all men so that by all possible means I might save some.  I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings.”

Here, Paul testifies that he is called to witness in realms of spiritual darkness.  In subjecting himself as a “slave to everyone,” Paul demonstrates his love for Christ.  Theoretically, the practice of law exists to protect the freedoms of man under earthly law.  For a Christian, the law profession presents another opportunity to serve God through serving his children.  As fellow Christians, we are expected to uphold this servant’s heart, especially in areas with little overt Christian representation.

In philosophy courses at a secular college like Dartmouth, it is hard to find discussion of a moral system that is satisfying to a Christian worldview. Utilitarianism leaves no room for compassion or hope of a better world. Deontology seems too severe. Intuitionism and, really, all of secular morality seems implausible without some sort of divine purpose and assistance. But, at least in my limited academic experience in the area, Kant stands out as one secular philosopher who seems to approximate Christian ethical beliefs.

What makes Kant’s philosophy so appealing is his belief in treating people as ends instead of means. In the centuries prior to Kant, contemporary philosophy had been moving away from the virtue ethics of Plato and Aristotle toward a more consequentialist system. Thinkers from Machiavelli to Bentham advocated viewing people as tools to achieve an end that, though it may be noble, was nonetheless arbitrary. Kant’s philosophy was unique because it realized the limitations of these consequentialist systems. Instead of orienting his ethics towards a goal that would be necessarily limited by our human weaknesses and failures, Kant sought to base his entire moral system off of rigorous logic. In short, the test Kant came up with was this: When deciding whether an action is moral or not, one should determine whether it would be desirable for everyone in the world to live by that same maxim. To put it in Kant’s words, “I ought never to act except in such a way that I could also will that my maxim become a universal law.” This often led him to extreme conclusions, including the famous example of needing to tell the truth to a murderer who was looking for someone hiding in your house. In order to do live according to this formula, Kant said, we must have what he believed was the greatest good that there is—a good will. As he wrote, “It is impossible to think of anything at all in the world, or indeed even beyond it, that could be considered good without limitation except a good will.”

When presented in the midst of writings from utilitarians and other consequentialists, Kant’s thinking holds a strong appeal to a Christian. Kant’s rejection of consequentialism is certainly one reason why his philosophy is so attractive. In many ways Jesus was the ultimate non-consequentialist; after all, he told his disciples and others not to tell people about certain miracles he performed (Mt 16:20, Mt 8:4) and willingly gave himself up to the provincial authorities. Furthermore, Kant’s philosophy comes close to the ideas of many Christians in several areas. For example, his idea of a good will approximates the virtue ethics held by many Christians, and his belief that moral truths can be determined by man echoes Aquinas’s commitment to using reason to arrive at the natural law.

However, there are certainly objections that Christians have to Kant’s philosophy. For one thing, Kant saw happiness as incompatible with a moral lifestyle. This could not be farther from Christian doctrine. While the faithful life may certainly cause difficulties, we are promised that virtue will ultimately bring happiness. For philosophers, this is the Aristotelian, virtue ethics approach—there is a motivation towards doing what is right that is inherent in our nature, and it is in keeping with this aspect of our nature that we receive full fulfillment and become happy. As Elihu tells Job, “If they obey and serve him, they spend their days in prosperity, their years in happiness” (Job 36, 11); as the master told the servant who had traded the five talents for another five, doing right will yield joy and prosperity for us: “Well done, my good and faithful servant. Since you were faithful in small matters, I will give you great responsibilities. Come, share your master’s joy.” (Mt 25, 21)

Kant also contrasts in many interesting ways with Aquinas. Kant and Aquinas were, in my opinion, men of similar thought. Both were convinced that there existed a set of universal laws that could be determined by men and women, and both prized logical reasoning as the key to determining this law. Some have even interpreted Aquinas as saying that God is bound by the rules of logic (although, of course, those may be rules he himself set down). Kant’s philosophy also overlapped with Aquinas’s in its focus on a good will. While Aquinas has been called a consequentialist for his view that the right is to be subordinate to the good, he believed that what was most important was that one was pursuing the good. However, for Aquinas doing what is good never must, and I would venture never will, conflict with the good.

This last point is where Christian thought most diverges from Kant. Christians see an integration of morality and happiness, of joy in Heaven and the possibility of joy on Earth. The dilemmas that faced Kant—the necessity of giving up happiness to live morally, and the conflict between doing what is right and doing what benefits the greater good—do not exist in Christian conceptions of morality. While Kant shared many of Jesus’ values, such as those of a good will and the universality of the moral law, he did differ in this one important way. Though there may be times when the moral life brings unhappiness or when doing what is good does not seem to be what is right, Christ, Scripture, and Christian tradition assure us that it all will find union.